#I almost jumped out of the window trying to get the gifs to stick together

[satoruhgojo]

My one and only

[queenslimeball]

Living in a Bush

Kurt Kunkle x male!reader

Requested by; @batzfailz

Contents; Fluff

Summary; M/n gets in Kurt's spree before recognising his childhood bestfriend.

Kurt bobs his head along to the music in his car while he sits on his phone. He's been driving people around on spree all day, but just now he's started to get tired. One more. He keeps on telling himself. Just one more, then I'll go home. There's been seven one mores.

The wait for one more passenger seems to be forever. There's no shock to it, though. It's the middle of winter and it's almost 1am. Kurt puts his car into drive, about to give up and drive home, but he gets a notification from his phone. One more.

He instantly clicks on accepting the passenger and puts his phone down. He doesn't really care who he picks up. He's just excited to talk to one last person. He follows the directions, and pulls up to where he hopes the person he's getting is.

Kurt lowers the window and sticks his head out to look for who he's getting. Nobody around. Strange. Kurt jumps and almost yells when he hears the door open and close behind him. He twists around with a smile to see what kind of person he's picked up this time.

"Hey, my name's Kurt!" He introduces like usual. But something seems different. He feels like he knows the boy sitting in his backseat and he can't quite place it. He opens his mouth to ask if he knows him, but the boy has already started talking.

"Nice to meet you, man. I'm so glad you could pick me up, like– you would not believe the day I've had." The boy starts. Kurt turns around and looks at his phone. He starts to drive with the directions from the app.

"I went over to my friend's for a chat, right? And she ended up inviting every damn person she knew, so it ended up a fuckin' party when I was not after that. But then her dog ran out because someone left the door open and everyone went out to find it and..."

Kurt's mind channels out the boy's non-stop talking as he stares at the name on his phone. M/n. He knows this guy from somewhere. But he just can't figure out where. He dives real deep into his memory, but can't find anything.

He looks into the rear view mirror and stares at M/n for a moment. Not to be creepy, but as if trying to solve the puzzle. Solve the puzzle.

While their parent's chat away, incoherent to their little ears, the two boys sit on the floor, rummaging through a pile of puzzle pieces to try and complete it. There are only few pieces layed out already. Neither of them can seem to figure out what next.

"Kurt, seriously, kid? You got the right piece in your hand." His dad says, pointing at where it should go. All the parents look his way. A small Kurt looks at the piece in his hand and looks at the floor. He fits it in place, looking rather proud of himself after. The small M/n looks just as proud of him, like he's just changed the world.

M/n! Kurt smiles to himself as he remembers his childhood friend. He looks in the rear view mirror again. He wants to tell him about it, but M/n just keeps on going on. It's like he doesn't stop. Kurt hears a slight pause and quickly jumps in.

"Hey, uh! I think I know you." Kurt says quickly, not wanting to let M/n start rambling again. He glances over his shoulder at him with a smile, hoping he remembers.

"...I don't think so, man." M/n replies, looking directly at Kurt, as if to try and remember his face.

"I think so." Kurt replies. "When we were kids... we went to school together... our parents were friends.. but I moved away. Kurt!"

M/n's face changes very quickly. "Woah! Oh my god, Kurt? Like, Kunkle? No way!"

"See, I told you!"

"Wow, I couldn't even recognise you. Sorry about that, man." M/n laughs, more out of embarrassment. Kurt shrugs, not taking any offence to it. "I guess it's the hair..?"

"It's all good. I wouldn't recognise me either, so it's okay."

Kurt runs around the garden, searching every perimeter. He spots a bush rustle, and he narrows his eyes. He slowly approaches, grabbing a toy sword on the way to prod at the bush. It rustles again, and Kurt giggles.

"Are you in there?" Kurt asks, sticking the sword further in. The "ow!" That comes from the bush proves him right. Kurt lowers down and crawls into the bush. He finds M/n curled up inside. He playfully gives him a push.

"Found ya!" Kurt exclaims, curling up with M/n in the bush. "It's nice in here, isn't it?"

"I don't really wanna leave." M/n nods in agreement.

"We could stay here forever." Kurt suggests, confidence in his gentle voice. "My parents can have the house, it's fine."

"Really? That sounds so fun!" M/n replies excitedly. They both giggle, Kurt's dirty blond hair becoming ruffled by the lose twigs. "Boys! Dinner is ready!" It's Kurt's mother.

"Shh! shh! shh!" "Quiet!"

Kurt had pulled over somewhere, anywhere, it doesn't matter. He's climbed into the back so he can catch up with M/n after so long.

"So what brings you to Azusa?" Kurt asks.

"I moved out, but it's more affordable here, so..." M/n shrugs.

"You have your own place!? That's crazy, man. I'm still at my parents'." Kurt replies, scratching the back of his neck.

"It's crazy we're not living in a Bush together, right?" M/n jokes.

"Oh my god! You remember that?" Kurt laughs. "We were so sure we'd stay out there forever."

"The rain kinda put me off, to be honest." M/n chuckles.

The laughter dies down, and they're left with a silence. Not exactly awkward, but unreadable. Neither can quite tell what's going on as they stare into each other's eyes.

"I missed you." Kurt admits, breaking the silence. What he intended to say was "How's life treating you?" . But, his mouth has betrayed him.

M/n is flattered. He doesn't know how to react at first, just making sounds between a laugh and a heavy exhale. "I missed you, too."

Kurt stands by his family car as he stares into M/n's eyes. Tears have already escaped down his face. His parents are moving back and forth from the house to the trunk with bags.

"You're leaving?" M/n is crying now, too.

"I didn't know." Kurt admits, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"You can't leave.."

"I'm sorry!" Kurt cries out as they both dash into each other's arms, sobs escaping from both of them. Kurt's parents awkwardly try to step around them as they hug and cry for what seems to be a little too long.

"C'mon, kid. We're going." Kurt's dad says, opening the door and nodding towards it to try and get Kurt to hurry up.

Kurt looks back to M/n. It's the hardest decision of his life so far, even when it's not a decision that he can even make. He can't choose to stay, as much as he wants to. He slowly steps back from M/n, their arms falling limp from each other.

"I'll never forget you." Kurt promises.

"I won't forget you either."

"I'll find you. I know I will." He says, looking over his shoulder as he gets in the car. Kurt's dad slams the door shut, and gets in the car, too. The car gradually starts to drive into the distance, but M/n chases after as fast as his little legs can carry him. Which, ultimately, is not very fast. He trips over a pothole and hits the asphalt on his forearms and chest. He lifts his head in a whip, not caring about the physical pain, but the emotional.

He makes eye contact with Kurt through the back window as the car disappears from sight.

"I, uh– Really don't wanna say goodbye again, y'know. So I was wondering.." Kurt murmurs quietly, feeling too awkward to spit the words out he needs.

"Are you gonna ask for my number?" M/n said it for him, which is a huge relief. Kurt points and nods.

"Yeah, that!"

"I'd love for you go have it." M/n assures, making sure Kurt doesn't feel nervous about this. They exchange numbers and save their contacts, making sure they've got it right before anything else.

"Haha... uh... maybe we could go out sometime?" Kurt questions.

"Like a date?"

"Like a date, yeah!"

The boys had snuck into M/n's sister's room. It's much different to their usual hangout spots, but they're too young to care.

Kurt sits at the small, child's table, pushing a teddy bear out the way, and M/n sits opposite. They pretend to sip tea from the empty teacups, discussing all sorts of things that go on in their underdeveloped minds.

"I brought you to this restaurant to ask you something." M/n says, getting off the chair and standing by the table. He slowly sinks onto one knee. "Kurt, will you marry me?" He asks with a haribo ring.

Kurt feigns an overdramatic gasp. He nods. "Yes, yes, yes!" He stands from the table and M/n puts the ring on the wrong finger, but neither notice. They jump about, holding onto each other.

"What are you boys so happy about?" M/n's mother asks as she enters to put some clothes away into the sister's wardrobe.

"I'm gonna marry Kurt!" "We're getting married!"

"That's nice, boys."

[stuckyrogersbarnes]

'Oh, you are in trouble, y/n stark' (Loki smut)

Fem!reader

"Bye, Dad! love you!" you say to your dad, Tony as he leaves for yet another mission with his crew. You were 18 years old and lived with your dad and the crew. He only had one rule: that as long as you were living in the same house as him, no boys could stay over or even come over for that matter. I mean, he had informed you of this rule when you were 12 years old when you had developed your first crush on this guy called Jake in the 7th grade. You guys hadn't really talked about it much ever since then, but it was established that that rule was still in place.

"Hey, he's gone," you say to the person on the other side of the phone. "Finally, I've been waiting for this for too long my love. I'm coming up" He cuts the phone and soon, you hear your window opening. As soon as you see him in that green suit of his you run towards him and jump into his arms. You passionately connect your soft lips to his luscious pink lips and grip his hair as if you were about to fall from a 20-foot building, but Loki didn't mind...He loved every second of it. He groans into your mouth as he drops your feet to the floor. You grind on his torso as he says, "No hello, how are you? Just straight to the point, y/n stark?" You moan as you continue to kiss him, giving him his answer. He smiles at how childish and cute you are. "oh, you're in trouble, y/n Stark." he says while kissing your neck deeply. You moan. 

You and Loki had been together since 1 month after your 18th. How you met was a story for a whole other time. But you hadn't seen each other in like 2 weeks which was a lot for 2 people in a relationship. especially with those of a high sex drive like you and Loki. 

"Mmm...why can't people commit crimes more often? it would make life so much easier. I mean, your father would never be home." Loki says as he throws you on the bed. "I agree," you say. Loki climbs on top of you and you both try to catch your breath as your lips connect again. You moan into the kiss. Your hand travels down to his leather pants which are getting tighter by the second. You move your hand in an up and down motion and he chuckles in your mouth. He removes your white t-shirt and moans at the sight of your breasts and hard nipples. He puts his mouth to one of them and starts sucking. You moan as you put your hands in his trousers and start stroking his veiny, gigantic cock. He gets up and slips off his trousers along with his shirt, while you simultaneously taking off your pants. He climbs back on the bed and kisses your stomach all the way to your wet vagina and licks your slit. He slowly sticks his tongue in your wet hole. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the incredible sensation. He thrusts in and out with his tongue right until you're about to orgasm. But then, he stops. "you thought I was going to let you off that easy huh?" he smiles.

He lifts you and puts you on the bar counter in your room. You open up your legs as he enters you slowly. He grunts as he starts to thrust. You can hear the slaps of your skin banging together. He grabs your face and kisses you roughly. "Mmm, I missed this so muchhhh" you moan. "me too, darling." He lifts you again and puts you on the ground, you bend over and he groans and smirks at the sight. He slides into your tight, wet pussy. His big cock pulsates at the sensation of you almost reaching your orgasm. Your knees begin to shake. He picks you up and throws you on your bed, and enters you again. He starts thrusting even deeper now, hitting your G-spot every. single. time. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you begin to see stars. You could feel his warm pre-cum spilling in your pussy. He moans and keeps moving in your tight walls. Your entire body begins to tremble. "d-daddy?" you say. "yes, my love?" he says. "i-i think I need to pee." you had never felt this sensation before but it was the intense need to pee (in a good way). "no, baby you just need to cum." he starts pounding you deeper, your words begin to slur. you close your eyes tightly. As soon as he pulls out, you bite your lips and squirt, all over his beautiful, defined abs. He begins to rub your clitoris and you begin to shake again, he rubs it harder. You cry out loud. He grabs his dick at the sight of you squirting again. He begins to stroke his dick slowly. He enters you again, and your sensitive hole begins to pulsate at the sensation. You both moan in sync. He pounds you, harder than ever before and just keeps going until he releases his warm cum inside you and pulls out, as you squirt all over him. "oof, you are one hell of a drug y/n."

[pebblestar]

Donnie x reader

Unexpected

(( hurt >> fluff. ))

"These look great Donnie- With these plans the new route you came up with may just be a tad bit easier to navigate. Less of shredders army of zombie mutants." At your words, The faintest smile makes it way onto Donnie's face. It'd been some time since you'd even seen a genuine smile on his face. Not since the apocalypse had practically shook New York. You draw in a breath as you shift from one foot to the other as anxiety begins to creep it's way up your spine. For the first time in nearly five weeks now, You two were finally talking. You should be happy. After all, it should've meant that maybe just maybe there was still hope to salvage the both of your relationship together. But that thought was immediately snuffed out by the negative thoughts nagging at the back of your brain- Of just how the turtle may wind up never speaking to you again. Still, you had to try. "Don look... I know with everything that has happened... Mikey falling into a coma, Leonardo losing a arm and Raph nearly becoming zombified in the process..." At your words, A realization seems to dawn on the turtle and almost immediately he's spinning around in his chair to face the scattered papers in front of him. "Y/n, Now really isn't a good time." "Please Don just listen to what I have to say-" "I'm really busy." "I understand that but if I could just-" The loud slam of Donnie's hand hitting the metal desk has you practically jumping backwards in alarm.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes but you will yourself to be strong.

With a intake of shaky breath you manage to voice your frustrations.

"You have no right to be pissed off at me Donnie. I respect your decision to break up-"

The turtle begins to make a sound of protest or maybe to agrue with you.

But you only ignore him and contuine.

"I think you forget that Mikey, Leo, and raph are my family too. Fuck I'm just as upset as you are."

You find yourself pausing- Uncertain of how exactly go about what to say next.

But with the anxiety weighing heavy on your shoulders, You find yourself shrinking into yourself.

You couldn't get out with it.

It'd only make things worse for Donnie.

"...I...This is a bad time. You are right. Sorry for bothering you."

Now with the loss of your confidence, you find yourself turning around and trying to hurry out of the lab before you can fully break into tears.

But before you can even reach the exit, A hand reaches out for yours.

"Wait. Wait..."

Donnie seems to finally take notice that you aren't yourself.

And maybe you haven't been in weeks and he just didn't care enough to notice.

With the turtle now moving to stand in front of you, He draws in a breath.

"I'm being the real asshole here. I'm sorry. Please, Tell me what you were trying to say?"

You pull away from Donnie as frustration bubbles up to the surface and without another word your reaching into your pocket and practically shoving the three pink sticks into his hands.

The tears are soon blurring your vision and any frustration you feel toward the turtle is out the window.

You try stepping past Donnie only for the turtle to mirror your movements with a look on his face you can't quite place.

"Your pregnant."

He stares almost in disbelief at the pregnancy stick in front of him.

"This... Your actually serious."

You give a nod not trusting yourself to speak just yet.

Donnie sets the pregnancy sticks down.

"I... I didn't know. Y/n I'm-" "It's fine. I'll handle it on my own and you won't have to worry, Don. Because I know your busy, I know and I don't want to- Don't want to..." The tears that streak down your face have Donnie practically freezing in place and his heart clenches at the sight. "Let's sit down. Come on." He gently coaxes and leds you to the couch. Donnie reaches for your hands but pauses uncertainly. There's no time for overthinking, As your reaching out for a hug from the turtle despite everything that'd happened between the two of you. With a hand running soothingly along your back, He holds you just a bit tighter. He'd missed you so much. And internally he's kicking himself for being such a idiot. A silence seems to envelope the lab and patiently Donnie waits for your sniffling to subside. It takes time for you to fully calm down. But he doesn't mind. After all, you were worth it. With gentle hands, He carefully cups your face. "It'll take a lot of hard work from the both of us... But," A hand reaches down to brush against your stomach and for a brief moment you swear you can see a look of warmth flash in Donnie's eyes. "I'm more then willing to put in the effort for the both of you. You're both worth it. I'm not going to leave your side." You look into Donnie's eyes wanting to silently hold him to that promise. "... I know that we have a lot to talk through. But I want to be here for you especially now, Y/n." With a intake of breath, You reach out to grasp Donnie's hands in yours. "Then let's take it step by step. Slowly." Donnie gives a nod at your words before letting out a sigh of relief smiling softly.

There's a brief pause then, ".... I know where Mikey stashes the chocolate," He presses a kiss to your forehead before standing up. "I'll be right back. Why don't you find us a movie to watch?" "m'kay. Don't keep me waiting too long." The turtle sends a wink your way before exiting the lab altogether. While there was much to talk about and things that still needed to be mended, for now this was a good first step toward fixing the both of your relationship.

That was enough for you.

[funnylittlelad]

Rules Made To Be Broken - Steve Harrington x gn!reader

Masterlist - AO3

<< Prologue | Rule Two >>

summary: As you and Steve grow closer, things seem to be going perfectly. That is until your police chief father steps in. The more you lie the deeper a hole you dig, but what else can you do? No matter what your dad says, you're not staying away from Steve Harrington.

wordcount: 6.4k

notes/tags: Hopper!reader, secret dating, sneaking around, fluff, friends to lovers, almost teenage car shenanigans, events of season three do not take place (canon divergent), Hopper is a bit of an (redeemable) overprotective helicopter parent, mentions of/talks about: abusive parents, tumultuous relationships, divorce, death, and family trauma., brief description of a minor cut.

Rule One: No Hanging Out Alone, Unless It's In Public

“Aren't you seeing Robin tomorrow ?” Your dad asks in response to a question you asked him.

He and Joyce are watching a rerun of some show they like.

“Yeah, but it’ll be with Steve. Robin wants some one-on-one time before that. I think there's something going on at school,” you lie a little too easily, “She’s been anxious about going back. I'm trying to help her not think about it this early.”

“Someone giving her a hard time?” Your dad quirks a protective eyebrow.

“It’s high school. I don't doubt there is.”

He hmphs and nods.

“Do you need a ride over there?” He checks.

“No, I can walk. It’s nice out,” you smile.

Robin truly doesn't live far. She's just a street away. Plus, it's late June and just after five. The air is warm and breezy as the sun starts to lower slowly.

“Alright, if you aren't home by nine the door will be locked,” he warns.

“I know,” you drone.

“You’re like a broken record,” Joyce chirps from beside your dad on the couch.

“At least a broken record would be pleasant to listen to,” you jab.

Joyce laughs, but your dad is unamused.

“Watch it or the door'll be locked at eight,” he threatens with a playful finger pointed at you.

“Okay, okay,” you chuckle.

You bid them goodbye and set out for Robin's. It's a short walk that you spend humming. You haven't seen Steve since his father cornered the two of you at the award ceremony. The rest of the evening was spent quietly making fun of other people there with your dad at the table. It was a light-hearted night after everything. Yet, you spent the whole time wondering if Steve is okay. 

The sudden change in his demeanor is crossing your mind as you approach Robin’s. She’s reading on her porch swing already waiting for you. 

“Hey, Rob,” you greet.

She smiles and snaps her book shut. 

“You made a clean escape?” she asks.

“It's not really an escape,” you roll your eyes, “They knew I was leaving.”

“Barely,” she teases.

You plop down on the porch swing right next to her. Once you're settled you rest your head on her shoulder. It’s a nice quiet evening, like most in Hawkins. It’s only marred by the first rule your dad gave you, watching you from behind the line you crossed.

“Thank you for doing this, Robs,” you sigh.

She rests her head against yours. The two of you gaze at the sherbet sky above the house across the street.

“Don't mention it. I like you two together,” she tells you softly.

Her words bring a smile to your face.

“You do?” 

“Yeah, you’re both so giggly and happy. It’s disgusting.”

You laugh and give her side a little pinch. She squeals and jumps. Before she has a chance to retaliate, Steve's car rolls up her driveway. You’re up and jogging over in an instant. 

“Hey, Rob!” Steve calls by sticking his head out his window.

“Sup, dingus!” She calls back.

Steve’s head returns to the interior of his car as you climb in. He catches you in a quick kiss before you can say anything. You scrunch your nose at him dramatically when he pulls away. He mimics your expression causing you both to laugh. He pulls out of the driveway smoothly. As he drives down the street, he laces his fingers through yours. The back of your hand gets brought up to his lips so he can press a sweet kiss to the skin.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against your hand.

You smile at him as he drops your intertwined hands onto your lap.

“Missed you too,” you reply softly. 

A smile spreads easily across his lips. He hums happily. A breeze brushes through his hair from where his window is cracked. After a moment, his smile tugs downward.

“I'm sorry about my dad,” he says.

“Me too,” you sigh.

“I’d rather deal with the Chief than my dad,” he admits.

“Yeah, you seemed… different around him.”

Steve takes an even breath through his nose. 

“Yeah, I kinda have to be. I’m sorry if it was weird o-or-”

“No, Steve, it was fine. I just want to make sure you’re okay,” you assure him.

He glances at you with a tiny smile that you want to cradle in your hands. His hand squeezes yours.

“I’m okay now,” he says. 

“You sound sweet on me, Harrington,” you smirk.

“Sweeter than pie,” he flashes you his own world-ending smirk.

“Aren't I the luckiest?”

“Oh, no, honey, that'd be me,” he’s quick to correct you. 

You’re quick to look away to hide your flushed face. His hand tugs at yours for your attention.

“Hey,” he coos, “C’mon, don't get shy on me.”

Your glare is sweet on him. It earns an adoring smile that makes your fingertips buzz. 

“What exactly d’you plan on doing with me once you get me alone in that house of yours?” You ask quietly as you creep up on his driveway.

“Honestly?” He lets out a breathy laugh, “I plan on wrapping you up in my arms and not letting go until I absolutely have to.”

“That right?” You inquire as he parks.

“That’s right,” he nods and kills the engine.

You lean in toward him, eyes on his pretty pink lips. He inches closer to you in response, eyes hooded. Just before your lips can brush against each other you speak.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” you tell him.

“Wha-” he starts, but you’re already gone.

You’re scrambling out of the car by the time he processes what's happened. He calls out for you as he struggles to free himself from his seatbelt. When he finally does he races up behind you. You’re so close to the front door, but it's been a while since you've gone running. Steve’s arms wrap around your center. He lifts you into a spin as you let out a shriek-like laugh. 

“Steve,” you giggle as you struggle in his hold.

“Caught you,” he murmurs in your ear.

He doesn't let your feet touch the ground. Rather, he walks right up to the door holding you like that, only letting you go to open it. Once it's open he’s lifting you again to carry you in.

“Are you gonna let me go?” You laugh.

“Nope,” he chimes, “Already told you, m’not letting you go until I absolutely have to.”

“Fine,” you huff as if it's a chore, “If this is my fate, I guess I’ll just have to accept it.”

“Guess so,” he mumbles into your hair and kicks the door shut. 

He brings you to the living room and drops onto the couch with you landing on top of him. The tip of his nose is warm as he burrows into your neck.

“What’s got you so touchy-feely?” You ask teasingly, loving this mood.

“You kidding? I haven't seen you in days and even then I couldn't touch you. I’m surprised I didn't go nuts,” he complains, “Plus, my parents had me practically ripping my hair out. I just… need this.”

You wiggle to turn in his hold. He loosens his arms to allow you. When you're nose to nose you bring a hand up to his cheek, drinking him in through every source you can. Those caramel apple eyes pour into you as if you’re the cure for everything that ails him.

“D'you wanna talk about it?” You whisper.

His mouth tightens and you think he’s going to say no. You expect him to shake his head and change topics. Steve nods so minuscule you nearly miss it.

“My dad was on top of me about wasting my life away. As far as he’s concerned, I’m basically promised to his stupid finance company in the city. My mom just goes along with whatever he says. I don't want to suffocate in a suit while stuck in some board meeting,” he vents.

“What do you want?” You ask softly, raking a hand through his hair.

His eyes flutter close at the touch. 

“I don't know exactly, but not that,” he sighs. 

“You’re eighteen, you don't have to know anything yet,” you tell him.

“It'd be a lot easier if I did.”

“Well, it may not be easy, but you’re not alone,” you mumble shyly.

His eyes open and find yours. A smile that warms you from the inside out spreads across his face.

“No, I’m not…,” a thoughtful knit of his brows and twist of his lips takes over, “Is Diane your mom?”

The stillness that grabs you doesn't go unnoticed by him. His hand starts to rub soothing circles on your back. 

“She was, at some point. I haven't spoken to her since about a year after we moved back,” you answer.

His hand trails up until he’s cradling you where your jaw meets your neck. A warm calloused thumb skirts back and forth over your cheek. Your muscles loosen, the tension seeping out of them as you allow Steve to surround you.

“What happened? You don't really talk about when you lived in New York.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. Steve’s thumb moves to gently pull it free before he continues speaking.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

“I want to,” you reply quickly, “I do. I’m just not used to talking about it.”

“Take your time.”

You give him a small smile. 

“Things were fine in New York. We were happy, at least I thought we were,” you sigh, “I think my parents were having problems for a little while, but then Sara got sick.”

He nods in encouragement as you take a breath. 

“They were better after that. For a while, anyway. Then Sarah got worse. She just kept getting worse and we tried to make her feel like she wasn't, but… But she knew. The-” your voice cracks a little and you clear your throat of the thick emotion that's settled there, “By the end, they were barely even speaking outside of the hospital. My mom was gone after the funeral. They divorced a few months later and I was given a choice.”

“Mom or dad?” Steve asks.

You nod.

“Hawkins or New York. Honestly, part of it was how pissed I was at my mom for leaving my dad like that, but New York was starting to feel haunted. A new start sounded nice. Besides, I couldn't leave my dad he was… God, he was such a mess. I’m not sure he would've even been eating if I wasn't there to make sure he did,” you get a little lost in the memories.

Your voice becomes a touch distant. Steve frowns.

“So, you came back to take care of your dad?” He questions slowly.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Who took care of you?” 

You blink at him blankly for a moment.

“I- I- uh- Well, at- at first my mom. Y’know she called to check in or I would call her. At least once a week, but then… Then Bill showed up one day. Next thing I knew there was a wedding and a baby,” you say the word like it's dirty, “and I… I wasn't important anymore.”

“Who’s taken care of you since then?”

“I’ve gotten pretty good at taking care of myself,” you shrug insecurely.

Steve clearly isn't a fan of that answer. He wears it on his face, not even attempting to hide any emotion from you. It's a swift motion as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

“M’gonna take care of you from now on,” he kisses the promise into your warming skin.

He pulls back to take in your flustered features. 

“I think I’d like that,” you tell him quietly as you take him in with wide eyes.

You’re drowned in kisses after that. The two of you make a mess of giggles, light kisses, and cuddling limbs on the couch. The night passes you far too quickly. There's never enough time with Steve. An untouched VHS sits on the coffee table. You had picked something to throw on but never got that far. Instead, you spend most of the time as Steve promised, wrapped up in his arms while he takes care of you. He’s absentmindedly pressing gentle kisses to your hand as you wonder how your dad could ever think he’s capable of anything else. 

The clock on the wall ticks closer and closer to nine. Each stroke of the second-hand sinks dread in your chest a little more. You don't want to leave Steve. Even if you will be seeing him again tomorrow. 

“How d’you think your dad would feel,” Steve starts quietly as he plays with a piece of your hair, “if you spent the night at Robin’s?”

“He might go for it…,” you trail off with a smirk. 

Steve shoots up into a sitting position. He snatches the phone from the end table and hands it to you. The goofy smile on his face causes you to roll your eyes as you chuckle. You dial Robin first. She picks up after a handful of rings.

“Buckley residence.”

“Hey, Rob, would you be able to cover for me tonight?” You ask.

“I’m confused, I thought I was already doing that,” she answers after a beat.

“Yes, you are, but I was going to see if my dad cared if I stayed at your place tonight,” you explain.

“Oh, I mean, sure, as long as you don't think he’s going to show up on my front porch with a rifle,” there's a shrug in her voice.

“You’re the best, Robin. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, just remember that when you're writing your vows,” she teases.

You ignore Steve's curious eyes as your face reddens.

“Alright, goodbye.”

You don't waste a moment hanging up and dialing your house.

“This is Hopper,” your dad answers lazily. 

“Hey, dad,” you greet.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You need a ride?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. I was actually wondering if you cared if I stayed at Robin’s tonight,” you grimace as you ask, expecting nothing good.

“When would you be home?”

“After work tomorrow. I’ll just go there from here, it’s not a big deal,” you answer.

“You sure you’ll be able to get there?”

You roll your eyes at the expected third-degree.

“Yeah, she works with Steve tomorrow so he can give us both a ride in.”

There's a moment of loaded silence.

“Alright,” he sighs, “As long as you’re home for dinner.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there,” you promise, “Love you, good night.”

“Love you, good night.”

You hang up and beam at Steve. He beams right back. An entire night with Steve. It doesn’t even matter if nothing happens tonight. Just the simple act of being with him is enough. The movie finally ends up on after that, but it's mostly background noise. When your curfew comes and goes, Steve leaves to find you clothes to sleep in. You explore the images on the walls of Steve growing up to a certain point. If you believe the story that the pictures tell, he never grew past fifteen. 

A subtle pang echoes in your chest at the thought of Steve being left alone for so long. At least you have a family that loves you, despite their problems. Steve doesn't even have that. If he’s determined to take care of you as no one else has, you're determined to love him as no one else has. Even if you’re not sure you're ready to call it love. It’s toeing ever closer to that line.

Steve comes back with a pair of green basketball shorts and an old swim team shirt. They aren't as big as you’d imagine, but they smell like him. Crisp and sweet like cinnamon and apples. His eyes drag up and down your form when you step out in the clothes. Pink blossoms on his cheekbones as you smile shyly under his gaze. The moment you're within reach, his hand shoots out and takes hold of your wrist. He pulls you into him in a fluid motion, kissing you as soon as your chests press against each other. When he pulls back he rests his forehead on yours.

“You look good,” he comments.

“I’m in your clothes,” you chuckle.

“Yeah, exactly,” he grins.

There’s a good thirty minutes of you making fun of his room and the sheer, ungodly amount of plaid. He pouts as you tease him.

“My mom did it when I was like seven, okay?” He whines. 

“Why haven't you changed it?” You laugh.

“I don't know, I never thought about it,” he shrugs.

“My point exactly, Stevie.”

It's when you’re settling in for bed that reality catches up with you. It crashes down with all the force of a tsunami. Thankfully, you have Robin to sound the siren and give you a head start. The phone trills obnoxiously as you cozy into Steve’s bed. He lets out an exasperated sigh before answering the landline next to his bed.

“Hello?” he answers.

When he freezes you look up at him curiously.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “O-okay, we’ll be there in ten just stall until we get there.”

He slams the phone down and turns to you with wild eyes.

“Your dad is at Robin’s, we have to go,” he informs you.

You’re confident you've never moved so fast in your life. You don't bother with your clothes or any nonsense like that. Steve doesn't even put on his shoes, opting to drive in his socks. 

“Why did he show up?” You agonize.

“He brought your uniform. Robin told him you were in the bathroom, she said she left the window open for you to climb in through,” Steve explains.

You nod, trying very hard not to hyperventilate. All it takes is for your dad to see Steve’s car. Everything is so close to falling apart. Steve parks on the street behind Robin's house. You plant a rushed kiss on his lips with a promise to see him tomorrow before sprinting. There are two backyards between you and the window you need to get through. Silently, you thank whatever is out there that you did track in high school. The fences were the hardest part, but you managed to haul yourself over them with only a scratch as evidence. 

A bottle of soap gets toppled over as you crawl through the window. Quickly, you pick it up and try to straighten yourself out. Your face is beet red, your chest is heaving to catch air, and your skin feels ablaze. As fast as you possibly can, you splash water on your face and collect yourself. Before leaving, you flush the toilet for good measure. With one final steadying breath, you kick off your shoes and exit the bathroom. You can hear your dad’s voice carry down the hall. 

“Dad,” you feign surprise, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes snap to you. You swear there's relief in there. As if he was moments away from interrogating Robin about your whereabouts. He holds up your folded arcade uniform.

“Figured you’d need this,” he says. 

You take the clothes gratefully.

“Thanks, you really didn't have to,” you smile.

He manages a smile in return, but there's an uncertainty behind it. It’s an uncertainty usually reserved for suspects, not you. 

“Are you feeling okay? You look feverish,” he comments, examining your still half-flushed form.

“I’m fine, I just- erm- ate something that didn't sit well with me,” you cringe as you lie.

He immediately holds up his hands to stop you before you have a chance to elaborate. You smile meekly. 

“What happened there?” He nods toward your arm. 

An angry red scratch tears across your upper arm, right beneath your sleeve. The offending sleeve had gotten caught on Robin’s fence on your way over it.

“Robin got a cat,” your eyes flicker to her.

“Yeah, it’s in my room,” she backs you up.

Your dad’s eyes bounce between the two of you for a moment. Ultimately, they land on you. He eyes you for another moment before deciding there's not enough evidence to charge.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he sighs.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say. 

The two of you hug before he leaves. You press your back against the door once it's shut. Robin’s wide eyes meet yours. 

“Holy shit,” she states slowly.

“Holy shit,” you echo.

“He was definitely suspicious,” she tells you.

“It’ll be fine,” you shake your head mostly trying to convince yourself, “He has nothing to prove I did anything wrong.”

“You’re dressed like the dingus,” she gestures to your clothes.

You look down at the offending garments. Steve’s scent still sticks to them. Cold pours over you as you realize you just hugged your dad while looking and smelling like Steve.

“You don't think he noticed, do you?” you ask with furrowed brows.

She frowns, causing you to frown. The answer hangs silently between you. Sleep isn't restful tonight. Guilt plagues your dreams showing you distorted images of your father. In some he’s angry, in others he’s hurt, and in the worst ones, he’s just as depressed as he was when you first moved back. It was such a close call. Too close a call. Yet, you still find yourself longing to see Steve again. 

You get more careful and it pays off. Rendezvous with Steve has become a weekly thing. Jonathan isn't too happy, but your dirt on him is enough to stop him from snitching. Mostly, he just hates having to wait up to make sure you come home. Your dad’s suspicion seemingly dies, making inconveniencing Jonathan worth it. 

Lying doesn't feel good, but you’re getting better at it. At least, you think you are. There are still times your dad levels you with an uncertain stare that twists your gut, but you can ignore that. You don't attempt another sleepover. The first time scared you enough to wait a while on trying that again. 

As mid-summer crawls into late summer, the heat closes in like it's tightening its grip on Hawkins’ throat. Before you know it, you're staring down the barrel of the anniversary of Sara’s death. A few days before, your dad knocks lightly on your open bedroom door. You look up from where you lay on your bed reading. He’s in uniform.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey, d'you wanna grab lunch?” He asks.

“Sure, all of us?”

“No, just us.”

You give him a small smile with a nod. He leaves you to get ready, shutting the door behind him. When you're finished, you meet him in the living room. Will and El are playing a board game, waiting to leave for the Wheeler’s. You hug them both before you go. If either of them thinks it's weird they don't make any indication of it. It’s a tough week. Everyone in the house knows that. 

The sight of the chief’s truck tightens your chest. Any space of your dad’s has felt different since you started lying. As if just by being here, he can read your mind and catch your lies. He gives you control of the radio. You turn it to a rock station you know he likes. 

You don't think to ask where you're getting lunch. When you get there you kind of wish you did. Your heart skips a beat as you stare at the diner where Steve and you had your first kiss. You don't know what difference it would have made, but the warning of such a reminder while you're with your dad would've been nice. 

“How’s everything going?” He asks as you slide into cracked a booth.

He smiles at the waitress to signal for menus. 

“Good,” you reply, but it comes out more as a question.

“I'm just checking in,” he explains a little defensively.

“Okay, sorry,” you chuckle.

The waitress drops off the menus and takes your drink orders. Coffee and a soda.

“So, you're good?” Your dad checks.

“Yeah, I’m good. I have an interview for the supervisor position next week,” you tell him.

Both of you thumb through the menu noncommittally. It's a diner, you already know what you'll be getting. 

“You’re feeling good about it?”

“Yeah, I think I have a decent shot,” you shrug, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How are you? How’s everything with you and Joyce?” You ask with a silly effect in your voice.

It earns you a chuckle from him as the waitress sets down your drinks. Your dad orders you both waffles with eggs and bacon. It's what the two of you always get from diners.

“We’re good. I’m good,” he answers when the waitress walks away, “I think El is adjusting well. Can't tell about you on the other hand.”

“I’m adjusting just fine,” you assure him, “I’ll be a lot better adjusted with my own room…”

“We're working on it,” he sighs.

The Government gave you hush money for all the Upside Down-related trauma. The trick is finding something that will fit all of you and keep you relatively distanced from the greater Hawkins population. The latter is your dad’s request. He isn't a fan of neighbors. You had enough of those in New York.

“I know, sorry,” you say, “I almost have enough saved up for a car.”

“Jesus, when did you get so old?” He breathes with a shake of his head.

“When did you get so old?” You shoot back playfully.

You both chuckle.

“When did I get so old?” He agrees in disbelief. 

“How’s the station?” You ask.

“You know those jokers. Same shit as always. Flo’s still bothering me to set you up with one of her grandkids,” he answers.

“Let me guess…,” you tap your chin in thought, “the one that's going to be a dentist.”

“Yup,” he nods.

“Boring,” you scrunch your nose.

“Nothing wrong with boring.”

“Except that it's boring .”

He rolls his eyes.

“What I mean is, you've been through your fair share. No shame in taking it easy… settling,” he attempts to reason.

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh my god, are you trying to pawn me off on the dentist?” You gasp dramatically.

“No, I just mean that not everything has to be this grand adventure,” he levels you with a steady stare, “Sometimes I worry you’re more attracted to the thrill of something, and that ends up getting you hurt, or leading you into life-threatening situations.”

You frown as you meet his eye. He isn't completely wrong. That's what hurts about it. Your dad has seen a pattern and he’s trying to help you out of it. The only thing is, if the way out of it is someone like the dentist, you’re not interested. You’re not interested in taking the easy way and settling.

“Are you settling? With Joyce?” You ask quietly, toying with the straw in your cup.

“What? No, that's not- You’re taking what I said out of context,” he protests. 

“Am I? I mean you just told me I should settle .”

“Okay, maybe I used the wrong words, but all I’m trying to say is sometimes you can be more interested in a situation than a person. Just try to be mindful of which is which,” he says. 

“Yeah, okay,” you sigh, “is that why you brought me out? To grill me on my dating habits?”

“No, it's… It’s a hard week for both of us. Figured this would be nice,” he rubs his eyes.

“It is nice,” you promise, “But why have you been so weird about me dating?”

“It's not-” He pauses as the waitress places your food in front of you.

You both smile up at her and thank her before she goes. When she goes he continues.

“It’s not being weird. It’s being your father. At the end of the day, you can make your own decisions-”

“Can I?”

“What?”

“Can I make my own decisions?” You challenge.

“Yes,” he pauses, “to an extent.”

“There it is,” you chuckle dryly.

“Look, you might technically be an adult, but you live under my roof-”

“I know, I know.”

“Can we just-” he gestures curtly at the food on the table, “please?”

“Yeah,” you mumble and start cutting up your waffles.

The two of you eat in silence for a moment. The local news drones on a tv hanging in the corner of the ceiling behind the counter. Your dad empties his mug down his throat and sets it back down steadily.

“Are you seeing someone?” He asks suddenly.

The question causes you to choke on your waffle. You glare at him red in the face, thankfully able to pass that off as being from almost choking.

“What makes you ask that?” You counter.

“You've been different lately,” he shrugs, “Not bad different- just different.”

“And what if I was?” 

“You can make your own decisions.”

“To an extent,” you remind him sarcastically.

“Right, to an extent,” he confirms pointedly, “So if I say they're bad news then they're gone.”

“Dad, try as you might, you can't police my life. When there’s something to tell you about my dating life, I’ll tell you,” you state evenly.

“I don't want- It feels like- I-,” he sighs in defeat, “It feels like something's changed with us. You don't come to me anymore.”

Your heart cracks in two. Hurt pours down until every inch of you is drenched in it. Guilt comes next. 

“I just grew up, dad,” you shrug noncommittally, “I get to grow up.”

He nods solemnly, going to take a sip of his coffee before remembering the mug is now bone dry.

“Just because you’re grown up doesn't mean you can't come to your old man, alright? No matter how old or grown you get, I’ll be here when you need me,” he promises, “Even if it's stuff you think you can't come to me about. I’m here.”

Another hot streak of guilt tears through your chest.

“I know, dad,” you give a small smile.

He nods curtly, gesturing to the waitress for more coffee. The rest of lunch is spent talking about lighter subjects like stories of Callahan being dumb at the station. A little monster made of guilt comes to life, gnawing at your calves.

On the anniversary of Sara’s death, everyone knows to leave the Hoppers to do their thing. Your dad hides away in his room for twenty-four hours, sometimes more. You float around like a ghost haunting the house. You don't speak or interact, you just do what you need to do to fulfill your needs and go back to bed. Jonathan made himself scarce to allow you some privacy. It's not a well-thought-through plan. Hell, you’re willing to admit not a lick of thought went into it. All you know is that you’re falling into a deep spiral of guilt and grief and there’s only one thing- one person you want.

“Harrington,” Steve answers on the fourth ring. 

“Hey, Steve,” your voice comes out much quieter and more strained than you expect.

“Hey,” he coos softly, “What’s wrong? What's going on?”

“I- uh- um,” you swallow your emotion, “Could you come over? Jonathan is gone tonight. I’ll sneak you through my window.”

“Your dad isn’t-”

“My dad won't be a problem today.”

“Right.”

“So, can you?”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

You spend that ten minutes tidying up your side of the room. Steve can think what he wants about Jonathan’s slightly frenetic side. You drift through the house to see where everyone is. Your dad is locked in his room, Joyce is watching the Price is Right, and the Wonder Twins are going over something nerdy in their room. No doubt Will fell down a rabbit hole trying to explain one thing to El. When you go back to your room you lock the door and sit on the edge of your bed.

Not too much later. Steve's lovely face appears at your window. You fling it open and pull him in for a frazzled kiss. He’s smiling when you pull back. You realize you are too.

“Can I come in?” He asks. 

“I guess,” you reply playfully.

Steve takes you into his arms on your bed. He sits with his back against the headboard and your back to his chest. His arms circle you to play with your hands. It's so easy to melt into him, to allow yourself to feel consumed by him. 

“What can I do to help?” He whispers after a moment of silence.

He doesn't need to ask what the problem is. He knows. You told him the day was coming up.

“Just be here with me. I’m a-always alone. I j-just want you here,” your voice wavers as a couple of stray tears run free.

Steve is quick to wipe them away with sturdy hands.

“It’s okay. You're not alone anymore,” he promises softly, but earnestly.

“I’m not alone anymore,” you echo, confirming it to yourself.

There’s a beat where it feels like you're holding your breath. As if someone stuck a cork in you to trap all the emotion, careful not to spill any on Steve.

“You don't have to hold back. You can let go,” he whispers.

The tender touch of those words breaks the dam. Fat juicy tears stream down your face. At first, the sobs are ugly and make anything you say incomprehensible. After a few seconds of Steve wiping at your tears, you're able to calm down enough to speak and cry at the same time.

“Sometimes,” you hiccup, “I wish it was me instead of her.”

Steve holds you tighter.

“That’s normal. It’s like survivor’s guilt,” he murmurs into your ear, “but it’s not your fault that it was her and not you.”

You nod as a few sobs shake your system. Steve’s lips trail gentle kisses all over the top of your head. His fingers trace soothing shapes into your shoulder. 

“I think…,” you stop yourself before deciding that you can say anything to Steve, “I think my parents wish it was me instead of her sometimes too.”

“Whoa,” Steve breathes while taking hold of your face to make you look at him, “That’s not true. I can tell you just from knowing your dad, that’s not true. I can guarantee that he would rather trade himself than you.”

“Then why aren't I ever enough?” You break in a whisper.

“What?” Steve’s brows furrow deeply.

“My parents- after me they had Sara. Which, fine, people have multiple kids. Then after everything m-my mom went off and had another kid, b-but I was right here! And I love El, I really really do, but I took care of my dad for years and he still needed someone else around,” you finally let long hidden emotions rise up and spill over, “Wh- why aren't I ever enough on my own, Steve?”

His hold tightens like a love-filled hug from a boa constrictor.

“You’re enough. You hear me? You're more than enough. It isn't you. Everyone handles loss differently. It isn't you,” he hushes reassurances into your ear. 

The two of you fall asleep like that. When you wake up your eyelids feel like stone. Your face is sticky with drowsiness and stale tears as you process the sky outside the window. When Steve arrived the sun was setting. Now, it’s well below the horizon. Then it registers why you woke up. Someone is knocking carefully on the door. 

“Shit,” you hiss, “Steve, wake up!”

Steve stirs with a groan. You clamp your hand over his mouth causing his eyes to widen fully alert. You press your free pointer finger to your lips to tell him to be quiet.

“Is everything okay in there?” Joyce’s voice asks. 

“Y-yeah, just give me a minute,” you call back, voice hoarse from crying. 

Steve’s expression is startled when you look back at it. The two of you scramble up trying to figure out what to do with racing hearts. You shove Steve down. He gets the hint, sliding underneath your bed. You take a breath to compose yourself. Joyce has dinner for you when you open the door. 

“Is someone in here with you?” She asks, straining to look a little to check.

“What? No,” you lie.

She shrugs and hands you the plate.

“How are you holding up?” She smiles warmly.

“I'm okay. I’ll be okay,” you shrug.

She nods.

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?” She raises her eyebrows at you.

You smile tightly and nod. She walks away and you quickly close the door. Steve’s head pops up over the side of the bed, hair a little disheveled.

“Anything good?” He jokes.

You can't help your laugh, covering your mouth to muffle the sound. He shouldn't, but Steve stays for a little longer. Mostly he just makes you feel normal, which is exactly what you need today. He looks nervous as he gets ready to leave.

“What’s up?” You tug at his hand for him to look at you.

He looks from where he stands in front of you, besides the open window. There’s a halfhearted tug of his lips.

“I told my parents I’m dating someone,” he tells you, “They were on me about going out with some corporate partner’s kid.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. The butterflies have escaped your stomach and now flutter in your throat.

“Wh- what did they say?” 

“Not much, but they want to meet you.”

You blink in surprise.

“When?”

“We can work out the details later. I just wanted to tell you. I know it's complicated, but this is still important to me and I wouldn’t ever leave you alone with them,” he tells you. 

You nod slowly, still really taking the idea in. The logistics don't matter right now. This is important to Steve. You’ll figure it out.

“Yeah, okay,” you agree.

A wider smile grows on his lips. He swoops down and steals a peck.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?” He quirks his eyebrows up.

“Yeah,” you smile.

Then he’s gone and you're left with the memory of sharp green eyes on you. You’re going to be meeting Steve’s parents. Steve’s parents who you promised to not go near. Now, you’ll be officially meeting them, holding a conversation, and shaking hands. The guilt monster officially reaches your hip now.

<< Prologue | Rule Two >>

[heartbreak-sandwich]

☠️Full Circle Warnings☠️

A/N: This fic is inspired by always wanting to do some cave exploration with my friends. Starting a beautiful day exploring the caves near Skull Rock with your friends quickly turns into mayhem and terror as you go against your friends' advice and converse with a friendly stranger in the depths. I hope you guys like this one! Finally featuring the loveliest Eddie Munson 💕 This is my first ever thriller/horror fic, so hopefully it's okay!

TW: Blood mention, altered reality, smoking.

MAY 2023

The weather was fair and mild that May, so you and your friends decided it would be the perfect time to scope out the caves near Skull Rock. You sat in the passenger seat of Kyla’s Toyota 4Runner while she sped along the dusty, winding roads to the trailhead. Looking down at your phone, you noticed you had lost service, so you set it to airplane mode and secured it in Kyla’s glovebox, knowing there was no need to bring it into a cave where you could possibly lose it forever.

Over the booming of the music, you could hear Brent checking everyone’s flashlights and reminding the group to all bring extra batteries, extra water, and what to look for if you want to take home some natural quartz. Lelia was listening intently as Brent explained how certain rocks and crystals formed in caves, her ginger hair flowing in the wind as Aliya held a cigarette out the window. You and Kyla were singing along to the music when Aliya leaned forward between your seats, almost startling you.

“Just remember,” she piped up loud enough to be heard over the song. “If you see a person down in those caves, no you don’t.”

“What does that mean?” Kyla grimaced in confusion and laughed.

“It means they’re probably not real, especially if they try to lead you further in. Don’t listen, don’t follow, and don’t get separated from the group. Caves are like liminal spaces or some shit. They don’t play.” Aliya was smiling, so you couldn’t tell how serious she was, but goosebumps perked up on your arms anyway.

“Oh, slay,” Kyla replied nonchalantly, both of them bursting into a fit of laughter at her deadpan reaction. You were lost in your thoughts as the trees started to thin on your trail, and you felt the car slowing to a stop. Pulling off into a quarry, your group exited the vehicle and secured your packs for the trip.

“Remember, try to stick together. The map to these caves is really old, but as far as the websites have said, only these two tunnels have caved in,” Brent instructed, marking two areas on the map. You examined the tunnels, names, and distances marked on the cave map, and you took mental note of the areas to avoid just in case you got lost in the dark.

“Everyone have extra batteries?” Kyla held up the pack of D batteries as everyone double checked their packs, a resounding “Yep!” signaling the beginning of your group’s journey. You stacked an extra water bottle in your pack, zipped it up, and slung it over your shoulder, following the single file line uphill to an opening in the side of the mountain, glancing back one more time to see Skull Rock resting at the base of the quarry where the car was parked.

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

Arriving at the mouth of the cave, everyone turned on their flashlights and gathered around Brent to take another look at the map. He explained the three paths you could take through the tunnels, where the arrows on the walls should be, and which places to keep a lookout for quartz. After everyone agreed they were ready, the five of you entered the cave and started down the long tunnel.

“Mind the grade!” Brent’s voice echoed through the dark as you felt the ground start to slant downward. You jumped with a gasp when you felt a hand grasp your sleeve.

“Sorry, buddy.” It was just Aliya. “Trying not to fall on my ass.” She giggled, and you smiled back, both of you helping each other down the hill, slow and steady, as the light behind you swiftly disappeared, leaving all of you in total darkness except for the spots of your flashlights darting around.

The grade leveled out after a few minutes of careful walking, and you could see three branches of tunnels off of the main chamber you all stood in.

“This way is the easiest,” Brent pointed his flashlight down the path to the right. Everyone started in that direction, pointing their flashlights at the walls, the ground, the ceiling, taking in the scenery as best as they could in the vast darkness. Pointing your flashlight at the wall, you noticed a blue arrow spray painted on the stone.

“Is this a safe arrow?” Brent approached where you were standing and shone his flashlight on the arrow.

“Yep,” he said simply. “Blue means go, green means slow, red means no.” You nodded, repeating the phrase quietly to yourself for future reference as the five of you continued the path.

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

You all enjoyed exploring the first couple of tunnels you came across, and you had found yourselves in a wide chamber with a bit of water dripping into one corner, making a small pool. Brent explained that this chamber was consistent with the map, and it was a great place to look for quartz formations, so everyone had chosen a corner and started searching the rocks around the floor and walls for signs of crystal growth. Everyone was laughing, joking, and talking amongst themselves when you noticed a strange, familiar smell.

“Is someone smoking in here?” You pointed your flashlight at your friends one by one, each of them holding up a hand and squinting their eyes in turn.

“No. We’re not that fucking stupid,” Aliya scoffed and giggled.

“I know.  I just – I smell smoke.” You sniffed the air, looking around, swearing you detected the scent of cigarette smoke thick in the air.

“Nope. That’s just cave smell,” Brent said confidently.

“Cave smell?” Kyla asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Cave smell,” Brent continued. “A mix of chemicals, probably gas, old water, and bacteria trapped in the cave. The only way for it to go is up and out the entrance. It’s normal.” You didn’t have any counter for his explanation, so you tried to let it put your mind at ease. Your friends went back to talking amongst themselves while you examined a few rocks at the mouth of a tunnel off to the left of the chamber, everyone’s voices fading into the background as you focused on your task at hand.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, clink. You heard footsteps followed by what sounded like a small object falling on the floor. You stood up, pointing your flashlight down the tunnel, finding nothing but an empty path. Weird. You figured it was probably just the echoes of your friends ricocheting off the cave walls. You busied yourself with the rocks and tried to put the thought out of your mind.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. There it was again. The footsteps were fading farther down the tunnel. You stood up and stared down the stone hallway again, your flashlight finding nothing in sight as you slowly crossed the threshold from the chamber into the long pathway. You took tentative steps, glancing back one more time to see your friends not far from you, still mingling and paying attention to their rock formations. You continued down the path, pointing your flashlight straight ahead until you spotted a small object on the ground.

You picked up your pace, approaching the object and shining your flashlight on it – a small, shiny rectangle. Picking up the object, you turned it over in your hand. A Zippo lighter? You fumbled the lighter and dropped it, hearing it land with a familiar clink. That was the sound you had heard along with the footsteps. Someone dropped this only moments ago – you were sure of it. Looking behind you again, you could see your friends’ flashlights moving around in the distance. You were confident you wouldn’t get lost if you continued in this tunnel and went straight back after investigating.

As you continued forward, you noticed the cigarette smoke smell again. It grew stronger with each step you took down the tunnel, so you followed it. Coming to a fork in the road, you decided one turn wouldn’t hurt. You took a sharp left and continued onto a new path, your flashlight gliding over the walls and ceiling, searching for arrows. You froze in your tracks when you finally found them – a string of red arrows pointing in the opposite direction you were going.

“Red means no,” you muttered to yourself as you looked ahead, shining your flashlight down the empty stone hallway. You reasoned you’d be able to see any unsafe terrain or pools of water before you got to them, so, against your friend’s advice, you persisted. A few more steps in, your flashlight started to flicker. You gave it a smack, a shake, turned if off and back on again…nothing worked. It flickered, buzzed, and flashed until it finally turned off. You were completely alone in the dark. You couldn’t hear your friends anymore.

Crunch, crunch, crunch. Hearing the footsteps approaching from behind you, you panicked. Without thinking, you broke into a sprint. The tunnel was long, but you kept a hand outstretched in front of you just in case so you didn’t hit a wall. You ran without looking back.

“Kyla! Brent! Anyone!” You yelled hoping your friends could hear you, wherever they were. They would notice you were missing and come looking for you, right? You ran until your chest was burning and you could hardly suck in another breath. You looked behind you and saw only darkness.

“Ugh!” You ran into something – someone – and screamed, your flashlight bursting back to life, illuminating the stranger you had collided with.

“Woah, hey! Hey, hey, it’s okay! Are you all right?.” A man stood before you, holding your shoulders steady and looking at you with concern in his big, brown doe eyes. His dark, wavy hair dusted his shoulders, bangs resting on his lashes, and he wore a denim vest adorned in patches over a leather jacket and a homemade cotton shirt that said Hellfire Club on the front in big, bold letters. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” You stepped back away from him, and he held up his hands.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Your voice was shaking as you looked the man up and down. He obviously hadn’t been in these caves for long. He looked clean, his high top shoes still white, and he didn’t seem to be in any distress.

“I should ask you the same question.” He smiled and chuckled a little. He could sense your fear, so he offered, “It’s really okay. I won’t even touch you, I promise. Just trying to help.” He smiled again, softer this time, and you smelled it – the cigarette smoke.

“Were you smoking down here?” He snickered, clasping his hands behind his back and kicking a small rock with his foot.

“Yeah, you caught me,” he said, pretending to be sheepish. “Do you need a smoke?” He patted his pockets and furrowed his brows. “I guess I lost my lighter. Damn. It was a nice one, too.” You remembered the lighter you collected from the previous tunnel earlier.

“Is – is this it?” You held out the Zippo and shined your flashlight on it.

“Hey, yeah! That’s the one. Where’d you find it?” He took the lighter from your hand, gave it a toss, catching it again and flicking the top open.

“I found it in the tunnel back there.” You pointed behind you with your thumb, and the man flicked the lighter to life.

“Huh. Well, thanks for bringing her back to me.” The man smiled again, closing the lighter and holding out his hand for you to shake. “Eddie Munson.” You stared at his eyes as your hand met his, giving it a firm shake.

“Nice to meet you, I think,” you answered, still feeling cautious. “Do you know these caves at all? I kind of wandered off and lost my group.” Eddie sighed and patted your shoulder.

“Like the back of my hand, sweetheart.” He smiled and gestured into the dark in front of him. “Follow me.” You nodded, walking alongside Eddie, pointing your flashlight ahead of the two of you, the sound of both of your footsteps the only thing reverberating in the long hallway as you continued on. You noticed his bandana sticking out of his back pocket flowing behind him, the silver rings that adorned his fingers, and the large image on the back of his vest: DIO.

“You like Dio?” You offered some conversation to soothe the beating of your own heart.

“Worship him,” Eddie replied, smiling proudly. “Dio, Metallica, Motorhead, Iron Maiden, W.A.S.P., Ozzy…I like music.” Eddie smiled wide and skipped forward a bit, dancing in place with his air guitar. “And I play guitar,” he said, still committing to his theatrics. You giggled at his display, and the two of you kept walking. You noticed he didn’t keep still very well, but he seemed to be enjoying making you laugh.

“Oh, yeah? You in a band or something?” Eddies eyes lit up, a devilish smile growing on his face.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said. “Corroded Coffin. You can catch us Tuesday nights at The Hideout.” You heard crinkling as Eddie unfolded a flier from his vest pocket and handed it to you. THE HIDEOUT BAR PRESENTS: CORRODED COFFIN; TUES 9PM; 4462 CORNWALLIS AVE, HAWKINS, INDIANA.

“Hawkins?” Your mouth fell into a frown, and your eyes grew wide as you noted the address on the flier. Hawkins had been a ghost town for decades after a mysterious earthquake tragedy annihilated most of the population and made the entire town uninhabitable. You were willing to bet The Hideout didn’t exist anymore. Something was very wrong. Eddie’s face fell at your reaction, and you looked into his eyes again, shining your flashlight in his face. He put a hand up to block some of the light from his eyes and grimaced. Your breathing became ragged, and you started to shake again.

“What? What’s wrong?” Eddie craned his neck, trying to avoid the light in his eyes as he questioned you, putting both of his hands up to block out the glare.

“Where did you come from?” Your voice was stern, low, and deliberate. You dropped the flashlight slightly, surveying Eddie’s form once more. He looked like he was from a different time.

“I don’t know what you’re asking me,” he replied impatiently, his hands out in front of him, shoulders shrugged. “I need you to be more specific. Where did I come from? I was born. What more do you want to know?” You could tell Eddie was trying to stay calm in the heat of your panic, but he was struggling.

“How did you get down here in the caves?”

“I walked.” Eddie scoffed. “At least I think I did.” He turned and looked at the cave wall, touching it lightly. He seemed confused all of a sudden. “I had to have walked, right?” He turned to face you, his eyes filled with anxiety. “How did you get here?”

“My friends and I drove here, and we walked in from the entrance next to Skull Rock,” you said, backing away from him slightly.

“Skull Rock,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s where…we are.” The hand holding your flashlight started to tremble.

“You didn’t know where you were?” Your eyes stung as you felt your tears welling up, and each breath caught in your chest as you felt fear rising in your throat.

“No, I – I did. I just…forgot.” Eddie’s face contorted into confusion, and he brought a hand to his mouth, chewing on the skin around his fingernails as he seemed like he was concentrating very hard on trying to remember something. He started muttering to himself about Steve, Dustin, Wheeler, the lake, the trailer, and the bats.

“Eddie?” Your voice shook violently as you trembled from head to toe. Eddie’s chocolate brown eyes met yours, and you could see they were wrought with terror all of a sudden.

“I have to get back,” he said, his eyes filling with tears as he lunged for you, gripping you by the shoulders and shaking you. “I have to get back to them. You know Steve?” You shook your head no. “STEVE! DO YOU KNOW STEVE!” Eddie was yelling now, his panic too much for him to contain anymore.

“I don’t know Steve! What are you talking about?!” You gripped him by the wrist and tried to pry his hands from your shoulders, but his fingers only dug in deeper as tears streamed down his face.

“Dustin! Where’s Dustin! The bats!” Nothing he was saying was making any sense, and your own tears started to spill over, and you were pulling away, trying your best to writhe out of Eddie’s grip, but it was iron strong.

“I don’t know, Eddie! I DON’T KNOW!” He was yelling over you, talking gibberish almost, and your flashlight started to flicker again. You swore you saw blood start to drip from his mouth and soak through spots in his white cotton shirt as he continued to bellow with despair in his voice.

“I stayed, and I fought, and I LOST! I LOST! I need to warn them. My friends, I NEED TO WARN THEM!” You dropped your flashlight and used your now free hand to take a downward strike to one of Eddie’s hands on your shoulder, and you were freed from his grasp. You turned in the opposite direction and ran for your life.

“HOW DID I GET HERE?! COME BACK! HELP ME, PLEASE!” Eddie’s voice ricocheted over the tunnel walls, growing farther and farther behind you, but never going quiet. You ran harder than you ever had before, taking every turn you came across until you tripped over a lip in a chamber and hit the ground, knocking the remaining wind from your chest. You scrambled backwards until you found a wall, hugging your knees to your chest, breathing ragged as you cried silently. What the hell was that? After pulling yourself together as much as you could, you decided that if you were doomed to die in these caves, the least you could do was give yourself a chance by trying to find a way out.

You unzipped your pack, took a long drink from your water bottle, and used some extra water to wet your hands, face, and hair. After packing everything back up, you slung your belongings over your shoulder and started wandering aimlessly in the darkness. You wandered for what must have been hours. It felt more like days, but it couldn’t have been because you never slept. And you never saw Eddie in the tunnels again.

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

Just as you were about to give up hope, you were grazing your hand along a wall in the darkness when you heard voices.

“Skull Rock! In your face, man. In your stupid, cocky little face.” The voices weren’t echoing. They must be coming from outside. You followed the sound, keeping your hand along the wall.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Another voice. You kept going.

“Yeah, yeah. Even when it’s staring you right in the face, you can’t admit it. You just can’t admit that you’re wrong, you little butthead.”

“I concur.” A third voice. “You, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.” Dustin? The third voice almost sounded familiar.

“Jesus, man, we thought you were a goner.” You picked up your pace, the three boys’ words becoming louder with every step. The ground turned swiftly uphill, and you were running again. You broke into a sprint when you saw the light coming down through an opening. You burst through the opening and out into fresh air to the alarm of six strangers who stared at you like they had never seen anything like you before.

“Holy shit! Are you okay?” A young teen girl with ginger hair, bright blue eyes, and a pair of headphones around her neck was the first to speak to you. All you could do was breathe heavily and stare in terror at the people before you. An older boy in a yellow sweater put his hands up, eyebrows raised, and spoke next.

“How long were you down there?” You still couldn’t answer them. Another girl looking about the same age as Yellow Sweater Guy took a step forward, her shoulder length brown curls bouncing as she reached out a hand toward you.

“Are you hurt?” You searched for words as you scanned over the strangers. Each one of them looked like they were from a different time. The ginger haired girl’s headphones were plugged into a walkman attached to her hip that was playing a cassette tape. You couldn’t make out the song, but it sounded like 80’s music. The dark skinned boy with a flat top haircut looked completely bewildered as he side eyed the ginger haired girl, stepping slightly in front of her.

“What year is it?” It seemed like the only sensible question for you to ask. You had no clue how long you had been down in the caves, and everything you had seen in the last day made you feel like you were losing your mind.

“What?” A boy holding a compass with curly hair poking out of his hat looked at you like you were an idiot.

“What year is it?” You asked the question again through gritted teeth, your hands balling up into fists at your sides. You were starting to panic again, and anger was the only emotional response you had left. The last of the three girls present tilted her head to the side a bit, her blonde, chin length bob swaying with her.

“It’s 1986,” she finally answered. Your eyes widened as you turned around to face the cave you emerged from. That’s when you saw him. He was squatted on the ground, elbows on his knees, holding a canteen as he stared, mouth agape. It was Eddie.

“YOU!” You pointed at him, your entire body trembling furiously as he pointed to himself in disbelief.

“Me? Who the hell are you?”

“EDDIE.” You snarled his name, and his eyes grew wide with fear.

“How do you know me? Are you one of Carver’s little henchmen?!” He jumped to his feet and backed away from you, both hands outstretched defensively.

“No, dude! She’s covered in dirt and blood, and she just came out of a random cave in the woods. Who knows how long she’s been down there! She obviously needs help,” Yellow Sweater Guy reasoned.

“Where am I?” You yelled loudly at them, backing a couple of steps away. Seeing Eddie had your terror ramping up again, and nothing felt real anymore. The boy with the hat put his hands out, gesturing calmly and speaking in a low, kind tone.

“You’re in Hawkins. Everything’s going to be okay. We can help you.”

“HAWKINS?!” You were almost screaming, tears building up again. You looked around at the six strangers and Eddie and could do nothing more than sit down in your place, stare into the distance, and let yourself cry. Stuck in a different time, in a different world, you regret now more than ever not heeding the words of your friend. “If you see a person down in those caves, no you don’t.”

[not-krys]

I remember your details for things I've never considered, in your fanfics! Oddly its mostly the pregnancy fanfics that stick out to me the most, how Arthur warms up the stethoscope before using it on her, or the one about Abby waiting for vincent to come home. They've always stuck in my mind due to some of the details and how easy it was to visualize them super well, so thats what I remember the most! Good details and great at putting together scenes.

I also remember the zoned out mitsunari fanfic hehehe

Anon or not, tell me what passage, fic, line of narration, or anything you remember about me as a writer (ask was sent to the wrong blog, but I'll answer it here anyway since it is a writing related question!)

About details! I usually try to keep two main things in mind when I come up with them. First one is to keep who I'm describing in mind. With the Arthur x Reader pregnancy fic in particular, I remembered that he was a former doctor and that he has an knack for noticing and remembering small details. In the fic, he says that his partner complained last time he had checked in that the bell was cold, so for this checkup, he warmed it for his partner's sake.

Funnily enough, the stethoscope moment almost didn't happen as when I looking through my original notes, it was up for debate. Screenie below to show how the thought process sort of went (and with the timestamp pictured because I wasn't kidding when I said this fic came to me in the middle of the night, not even fully convinced I was gonna participate in Arthur Week then)

Same can be shown with the Abby waiting for Vincent fic. I'm assuming you're talking about the 'First Kicks' fic where Abby is waiting for Vincent as a storm brews outside as I also a WIP Wednesday where Vincent comes home to find her sleeping, but I'll go with First Kicks for example's sake.

Abby's a nervous person, especially worried when Vincent was caught in the storm. She calms herself when she looks at her reflection and sees her anxious self, realizing that's she's making a mountain out of a mole hill, and talks to her son to settle her nerves.

The other thing I keep in mind is an offshoot of 'show don't tell' in that, to help enrich a scene, evoke the five major senses (sight, sound, touch, smell, taste).  The quiet of the room while Arthur's listens to the baby's heartbeat (so quiet, a pin dropping would sound like a gun going off), the blue satin ribbons on the reader's clothes, how the stethoscope tickles when it makes contact, etc.

Same thing with Abby's story: Abby looks at herself in the window with the rain pouring down, which breaks up her reflection as rain does on windows; hearing the door open and some muttered Dutch lets Abby know that Vincent's back; smelling the rain on him because he was just outside and got soaked in it; feeling those cold hands on her belly and her jumping back because cold (previously wet) hands touching your belly? It'd be a surprise at the very least!

And because I'm feeling cheeky, all the things can also be applied to the zoned-out Mitsunari fic (mind the summary and the tags, this is a smoot fic). Keeping both characters in mind (Houki is a proper lady that wants to try something but is a little embarrassed about it so she sneaks around to get what she wants, while Mitsunari is also a curious critter and wanted to see what Houki was trying to do and isn't judging her for tricking him) and scene-chewing in describing things with the five major senses (salty taste of Mitsunari's finger, feeling the cool air on her [redacted], hearing his whispers against her ear, seeing that Mitsun has two hands (two hands!) and where they decide to travel), things like that.

(No, I'm not screenshotting an example from that fic for propriety's sake, ya filthy animals.)

So, yeah, that's a little bit about me explaining how I do some details and how it all can come together to make a scene in a story. Kinda sorry for the rambling if this was something you knew about already, but I had fun discussing details either way.

Thanks for the ask, Scummy!

[simpurnatural]

Fucked Up - Fez

Fezco x Reader

Simpurnatural’s Grand Masterlist

Note from Nat: “Season 2 has been so good so far!”

Warning ⚠️: SPOILER WARNING FOR EUPHORIA, Smut, Swearing, Violence, Angst

Pairing(s): Fezco x Reader, Maddy x Reader (siblings/platonic)

As it turns out, the guy you’ve been hooking up with is the dude who just beat up your sister’s ex boyfriend. And just before you think it couldn't get worse, you still went home with Fez.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! I AM WORKING ON (3) REQUESTS <3

“No Church In The Wild” - JAY-Z, KANYE WEST, FRANK OCEAN, THE-DREAM 

Growing up, Maddy was the kid her parents always put in the spot light. No matter how big or small her accomplishments were. It didn’t matter if what she was doing was molly or being in cheer, she was their little princess. 

Y/n on the other hand? Became overlooked the day Maddy came into this God forsaken world. Yet she loved her little sister more than anyone could even imagine. But when their mom began sticking her nose in where it shouldn’t be, that’s when shit went south.

“You know that Maddy looks up to you!” your mom sobs as she began throwing away all the weed scattered around the room. “¿En dónde te equivocaste? (Where did you go wrong?)“ she asks.

“Me? You should be asking yourself because frankly, you don’t give a flying fuck about me!” you reply, mascara running down your face. “It’s always Maddy did this! Maddy does that! Do you know why I smoke?” you interrogated.

“¡Oh Dios mío! (Oh my God!)” your mom proclaims and ran out of your clearly neglected room.

“Because it helps me forget for just a second how much of pain in the ass everyone in this house is!” you proclaimed before getting up and following her out the door.

“Don’t speak to your mother like that!” your dad hollers from his ottoman causing you to roll your eyes.

“Oh please. You haven’t slept anywhere else besides that fucking chair for years. Shut the fuck up,” you spat as a door creaked open. 

“Y/n?” Maddy croaked, peaking her head out slightly. 

Now she didn’t deserve the brunt of your anger, especially if she didn’t fully understand why you were so upset. It became dead silent in the house for a moment. Your dad still taking swigs at his beer while your mom’s entire being shook with every quiet sob.

Instead of saying anything, you marched into your room and slammed the door shut. You checked every crevice and hidey hole in your room for a blunt but to no avail. 

“Fuck,” you grumbled before grabbing your wallet and keys then sneaking out your bedroom window.

Jumping into your car, Maddy stuck her head out her window. Sharing a sad smile, she waved to you and you waved back. 

You were heading to Fez’s apartment because you needed him to hook you up with the good shit. The two of you share an interesting history together, it was all touch and go from the start. He introduced you to marijuana at the beginning of last summer...

Fresh out of high school, you were planning on taking the fall semester off as an extended break. Someone hosted a house party for all the graduates but basically all of student body was there. As expected, the party was a fucking banger and you found yourself face to face with the all-around-town drug dealer, Fezco. 

“Ever tried weed?” he asks as you both walked around the packed backyard. 

“Nope,” you replied quickly, “I have never done drugs or smoked anything in my life,”

“I can tell. But you drink?” he asks, motioning to your red solo cup.

“Only on occasion. Mainly parties,” you explain and looked down at the tequila.

“Well you gon’ like this,” he chuckles before lighting a blunt. “Try,” he insists.

“Okay,” you blush, taking it from him and putting it to your lips. “Shit-” you coughed after taking a sharp inhale.

“Nah you gotta do it like this,” he instructs as he took it back and took a hit. 

You did as you were told and that was the moment you got hooked. At that point, you weren’t sure if it was to Fez or the drugs. Almost every day that summer consisted of you hanging out with him. And you didn’t tell a single soul.

Your parents would flip if they figured out that you were seeing Fez. But it was fairly easy to sneak in and out of the house since everything else took up all their time anyway. It’s not like they gave a shit about you in the first place.

“A kiss here,” Fez says, pointing to his cheek. “Here. And right here,” he says pointing to the other then to his lips.

You were having a smoke on the steps next to his place. The sun was setting and neither of you had a care in the world.

“Yeah?” you asked as the blunt stayed steady between your finger tips. 

“Yup,” he nods before you leaned closer.

“Here. Here. And-” you cut-off once your lips landed on his. 

One hand was on your cheek and the other was on your upper thigh. His kisses were better than drugs and that’s saying something. Despite his reputation, you had never been so at ease with someone like him in your entire life...

“Nah man,” Fez tsked, shaking his head.

“Why not? I have the money,” you reply, holding the wad of cash in your hand

“I don’t need you goin’ crazy and shit,” he says. “Weren’t you here like two days ago?” he asks.

“Yeah but my mom went through my room and threw everything away,” you groaned. “Please Fez,” you sighed and crossed your arms.

“Is that why you lookin’ like you been crying?” he asks.

“Yeah. So please just...” you voice trailed off as you handed him the cash.

“Okay,” he says, pulling some pot out of his back pocket. “But one thing though-”  he began as you leaned forward to grab it. “Come with me to that New Year’s party,” he smiles with your faces now centimetres apart. 

“Bet,” you hummed before swerving to give him a peck on the cheek and took the bag.

“Ay, gimme a real kiss!” he sighs as you made your way to the front door. 

“Come here and take one,” you reply, pouting your lips. 

Fez made his way over and pulled you in. You giggled into the kiss as his hand squeezed your ass slightly.

“Fuckin’ nasty,” Ash grumbled.

...

“What’s good McKay?” you asked as your former classmate approached.

“College. You?” he asks before taking a sip of his drink.

“I’m about to head to the east coast for uni! Spring semester!” you replied, trying to be heard over the loud music.

“Dope, have you seen Cassie?” he questions and you turned to scan the room.

“Not yet,” you replied, “Her sister is looking for her too, said that she took off on their way here,” you inform.

“Oh thanks!” McKay responds before walking further into the house.

“Guess who?” a familiar voice asked as a hand covered your eyes.

“Fez?” you ask and spun around, making eye contact with his ocean blues. “Hey!” you smile then offering him your cup.

“What’s in it?” he asks as he placed his hands on your hips.

“Malibu!” you replied, watching him take sip a before handing it back. “Good right?”

“It’s tight,” Fez nods with a smile. “I like what you got goin’ on here. The aura and shit,” he says then motions to your black leather jacket and corduroy mini skirt. “Hey, is that my shirt?” he asks, tugging on your top.

“Yeah,” you shrug as you moved your body to the music. “Wanna dance?” you offered.

“Nah I don’t really dance,” he shook his head with a chuckle. “I’ll watch you dance though,” he offers causing your ears to perk up.

“Okay,” you reply and moved towards the crowd, Fez watched in amusement as propped himself up against the sofa.

Raising your drink to the ceiling, you swayed your hips to the beat. You kept eye contact with each other and his smile just kept growing wider. Carefree suited you despite your ambitious dreams.

“I hope you get some dick tonight!” Maddy said as she shimmied through the sea of people. 

“What?” you asked, thinking you heard incorrectly. “Get dick?” you reiterated.

“These are like your final days of being a bad bitch!” she reminds, “You’re moving out for college and shit. So go all out!” she cheered and began grinding on the guy behind her.

“You’re right!” you hollar, nodding to her, “Have fun with him!” you oohed before going off to find Fez.

“Y/n!” he hollered, getting up from his seat on the couch. “Hold this for me?” he asks and handed you his sweater.

“Of course,” you nod and inhaled his cologne. 

“Everyone, everyone! One minute till fuckin’ New Years!” the guy who hosted cheered and everyone else joined in.

Fez took your hand into his and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. But his eyes drifted to someone in the distance, Nate Jacobs. You quickly put two and two together. He was about to sucker punch him into the new year.

“We’re gonna head out soon, okay?” he asks over the everyone’s ten-second countdown.

“Yeah,” you smiled, still holding his hand. 

“5...

4...

3...

2...

1″

“Happy New Years, baby!” he shouts before reeling you in for a kiss.

“Go fuck him up,” you whisper in his ear after pulling away.

From a safe distance, you watched him shatter a glass bottle over Nate’s head then proceed to beat the shit out of him. You didn’t know Fez had that much anger built up in him. A smile couldn’t help but creep its way onto your lips.

“Oh my God!” Cassie exclaimed. “Fezco stop!”

“Get off of him!” Maddy shouted as McKay tried to pull him away from Nate.

“Chill, chill, chill! Come on, guys!” the host sighed, pulling them apart before it got any crazier.

“Y/n help us!” your sister pleaded, you stopped in your tracks.

Fez grabbed your hand and began pulling you towards the door. Maddy looked up from the floor to you, mouth agape in surprise.

“No wonder you’re so fucked up in the head,” she scoffed. “You’re dating a crack-ass!” she says and you dropped his hand. 

“Says the little girl that dressed up like a fucking slut!” you reply and pointed at her accusingly. “That lied to everyone about blacking out and getting raped! And always goes back to the same abusive psychopath! Quit acting like you’re the shit and grow up Maddy!” you ridiculed.

Everyone oohed as the scene unfolded, you flipped her off before heading out. Fez was right behind you with his hand on the small of your back.

“That shit was crazy,” he muttered as you both made your way to his car.

“Tell me about it,” you huff as his brother emerged from the driver’s seat. “Hey Ash,” you waved and crammed into the backseat.

“What took you guys so fuckin’ long?” he asked, the car pulling out of the driveway. 

“Fez just whooped Nate Jacobs’s sorry ass,” you inform.

“Damn,”

...

Ash said he’d rather shoot himself in the head than hear you two fuck, so he stayed in the car. You and Fez barely got through the door and his lips crashed against yours.

“Fez,” you moaned as his lips attached themselves to your neck. 

“Yeah?” he mumbled against your sweet spot. 

Something inside you bubbled at how his eyes looked into yours with such adoration. 

“I wanna ride you,” you confessed as you both stumbled into his room. 

“Be my guest,” he replies yanking off his shirt and kicking off his jeans and boxers. 

Pushing him on the bed, you climbed on top of him before pulling your shirt over your head. Fez pushed himself up against the headboard as you kissed him again, pumping his length. 

“Fuck you’re so hot,” he says, “Keep the skirt on,” he instructs before resting his hands behind his head. 

He watched you guide your pussy down his cock, moaning as your walls expanded around it. Rocking your hips back and forth and throwing your head back at the euphoric feeling. 

Fez wished he could capture this moment, not because of the sex but because of how intimate the moment was. There was something almost forbidden about your relationship with him which made it so thrilling. He was your poison and you were his antidote.

[deceitfuldevil]

Hurt

Peter Parker X Reader

Summary: You and Peter made it into MIT together, and were now living together in an apartment on campus. As much as you were both focused on school you also went out to some parties on occasion, some nights when Peter was on patrol just to get out. But tonight some frat boy asshole decided to hit on you and wouldn’t take no for an answer, and when Peter came home and saw a bruise laid across your face he didn’t think twice about harming whoever did this to you.

Warnings: depictions of fighting, mentions of blood, bruises and slapping, Peter being protective!, hints of smut towards the end.

Word Count: 1.4K

Peter came in sneaking through your apartment window to find you softly crying in your bed holding your face. All this was because a drunk guy tried to hit on you, and didn’t want to take no for an answer when you told him you had a boyfriend. You tried to get out of his space but he grabbed hold of your wrists and slapped you clean across the face. You immediately ran out of the party and all the way home after that. Not wanting to stick around to see what else that asshole had to offer.

Peter slid through the window with quiet ease, not even alerting you that he had come home. Tonight was quiet and he wasn’t left with any cuts or bruises thankfully, but he never imagined that one night he’d come home and you’d be the one with bruises.

Slipping his suit off and throwing on a random t-shirt Peter placed his hand on your shoulder as to comfort you, but you just jumped. Still keeping your face turned away from him you said: “hi Pete… didn’t even hear you come in” you said trying to cover the fact that you had just been crying.

“Y/n baby what’s wrong?” He asked, trying to get you to turn over but you wouldn’t budge.

“Nothing, just a tough day y’know?” You said, brushing his hand away. But he saw red marks around your wrist when you pushed him away. Now Peter forcefully grabbed your shoulder and made you look at him, seeing a deep blue bruise forming on your cheekbone.

Peter backed away as you sat up and tried to insist it was nothing.

“Who… who did this to you?” He asked, chest heaving and eyes blowing dark.

“No one Peter I just tripped” you tried making a cheap excuse, staring down at your hands in your lap to avoid his eyes. But he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

“I said..” Peter now walked back to you and gently but firmly took your chin in his hand and forced you to look at him. “Who hurt you?” you swallowed slowly, almost fearing your boyfriend at the moment with how wide his pupils were blown.

“Just this guy at a frat party.. couldn’t take no for an answer.” You explained, not breaking eye contact.

“Does this prick have a name?” He pushed on, urging you to continue.

“I think it was uh.. Justin Sommelier. But Peter, he's the Dean’s son, you can’t just go after him, you'd be expelled.” You spilled out, silently begging Peter to leave it be.

“I don’t care if I get expelled, someone needs to teach that entitled asshole a lesson.” Peter said, letting go of your chin and throwing a pair of his sweatpants on. He walked out of the door saying no more than “stay here”.

“Peter wait no!” You called out after him, only to have the door slammed in your face. You begrudgingly sighed, grabbing your coat and chased after him but he was nowhere in sight, asshole must’ve swung to Justin’s frat party. You sped walked there amidst the cool breeze of a Boston night, hoping you’d get there in time to stop Peter from making any rash decisions.

You arrived back at the party and things still seemed to be going as normal, maybe you even beat him there. You walked around the party keeping an eye out for anyone thrown against a wall, but nothing. But when you hear a girl shouting and then stomping down the stairs holding her discarded clothes to her chest.

You figured that was your best bet as more of commotion started to arise upstairs you followed the noise, leading you to an open bedroom where Justin was haphazardly throwing his pants back on and shouting at your boyfriend.

“I was about to get laid dude! What the hell is your problem?!” Justin shouted at Peter, starting to back him into a corner.

“My problem is that you can’t take no for an answer and hit my fucking girlfriend!” Peter said, clearly stepping up to the challenge.

“Oh boo who, so what? You don’t deserve such a hot piece of ass anyways, she wanted to sleep with me I just know it.” He said, puffing out his chest and looking over to you and now many others standing in the doorway.

“You’re gonna fucking learn man” Peter said before taking a heavy swing at Justin out of nowhere, nearly knocking him to the ground.

“Oh, you are never going to see the light of MIT ever again. Just wait until my father hears about this!” Justin claimed, winding up another punch that Peter easily dodged.

“That’s if I ever let you see the light of day ever again.” And the next thing you knew Peter was on top of Justin delivering blow and blow to him. Absolutely pummeling him, you didn’t even realize you were screaming when another girl came to your side trying to comfort you.

Justin laid helpless on the ground as Peter beat him to a pulp like you had never seen him do with any bad guy before. This… this was personal. This was for you.

At this point he was passed out, face bloody and swollen. Peter was still throwing punch after punch and said “I should kill you right now.” as he stopped pulling his punches all together.

When Justin started coughing up blood, you knew you had to do something. Freeing yourself from whoever was trying to comfort you and hold you back you brought yourself in-front of Peter and crossed your arms in front of your face to block his fists from colliding with your face too. But as soon as you stepped in front of him he stopped his violent actions.

“Y/n, step aside.” He said, not looking at you as his chest heaved and he stared down at the man he had beaten into a pulp. He tried to nudge you aside but you stayed planted in your place. Mimicking his actions earlier you brought one hand to his chin and forced him to look you in the eyes.

“Peter please, stop this.” You begged, eyes furthering your silent plea with him. He stared back at you and it almost looked as if your boyfriend wasn’t even there for a second as you stared into his eyes. You took a deep breath and whispered “please come back to me.” As you gently pressed your lips to his, pulling away you saw his eyes return to a normal state and his tense form softened up. He stood up and looked around him, seeing the scared and worried eyes everyone was giving him. He took your hand and led you out of the now dead and silent frat party and took you home.

The walk back to your apartment was silent, things between the two of you stayed silent as he brought him to your shared bathroom to clean up his bloodied fists. Once cleaned, you stayed standing between Peter’s legs staring down and not meeting his eyes.

“Y/n I’m sorry, I went too far and I shouldn’t have—“ Peter was cut off by you smashing your lips onto his, eagerness radiating from your core. When you pulled away, he gave you a dazed and cheeky look.

“Now what was all of that about?” He asked hopping off the counter and walking you back towards a wall as he raised his hands to your hips.

“Never got to see your fight firsthand before… I liked what I saw.” You confessed, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him in for another heated kiss.

You got a few more bruises that night, but those all came consensually <3.

—

A/N

Holy hell is it been a fat fucking minute since I wrote for Peter Parker… I last posted an imagine for him in summer of 2020 for context. Anyways I wrote this with dark! Peter (like when he was beating on green goblin at the end of no way home yk?) in mind because shit was so hot. Hope you all enjoyed and thanks for reading!!

Much Love,

—Skyler

[artemiseamoon]

The Speakeasy

Spy! f** reader x Jake Lockley

Week 9 of @writer-wednesday

Words: 731

⚠️ warnings: overall the crowd is spies, hit men, trained killers, mentions of sexual activity, no mention of DID but we know it’s very relevant bc Marc has it & Jake is one of his alters.

**biooc, woc readers to the front. Anyone can read though. I’ll give her a nickname eventually, if you want to read as an OC, let’s give her the spy name Cobra 😁 so, options!

An: I wanted to try something new and I love characters we know nothing about yet. So I’m going for a Jake Lockley drabble. Just for fun. No I have not read the comics & won’t pretend I have 😁 this is all new territory for me. I’m just going off what I googled. I liked the whole him getting intel from a “network of informants & spies” thing, so this was born. I did find that on Google so if it’s a lie it’s cool, I’m still sticking with it.

As the smoker passes, you wave the cloud of nicotine away from your face and head south on Canal street. Avoiding a pile of melting snow, you take a wide leap and jump over it.

The bustling nightlife dims as you move further away from it. Turning into the alleyway, your eyes take in everything even though you’ve done this walk a hundred times.

Exposed brick, cigarette butts on the floor, a pair of dumpsters, a greasy-looking puddle. You can hear someone playing music loudly in the building to your left, likely on the second floor with the open window.

Continuing your walk, while staying hyper-aware of your settings, you finally reach it. The black door with red trim. You can hear a cat meowing in the distance, followed by the sound of a siren. Using the secret knock, you wait for the door to open.

Bruno greets you with a small nod. He was a massive man whose facial expression never changed, perfect for the front door. You greet him back and head down the staircase. There was just enough red light to see, but you’ve heard and seen your fair share of liquored-up people trip on these things.

Making your way to the lower level. You greet the next set of guards who grant you entry. The underground speakeasy emerges after one more small hallway. Music plays at a moderate level, it's slightly busier than usual for a Wednesday night.

Your eyes scan the room as you walk in until you spot him, Jake Lockley. He’s in your booth, the small two-seater in the middle of the back wall, with a direct view of the door. He’s dressed up compared to the last time you saw him, and he’s capless with his hair combed back.

There was something about Jake that was hauntingly attractive, he was both mysterious and intimidating, and you were thoroughly intrigued. You knew pretty much nothing about him, except the name he gave you, he drove a cab, and he was sinfuly good in bed.

You met when Jake was looking for some information that led one of your connections to recommend you. You gave him what he was looking for, he paid you handsomely, and less than an hour later, you found yourselves in a hotel room. The sexual attraction was immediate, almost animal.

You’ve had 4 meetings over 7 months and slept together 3 out of 4 times. This has been the longest stretch between meetings. Jake went MIA. Then, this afternoon you got a call from a burner phone. It was him.

His dark eyes follow your every move as you take a seat opposite him. He doesn't smile, barely moves, just watches. Under that gaze it was easy to feel like prey; it made your pulse quicken, it made you sweat.

You were equal parts scared and entranced by him. You didn't scare easy, you couldn't, especially when you dealt in trading information and the fucking over the criminal underworld.

“What a surprise.” You smirk and slip out of your jacket.

“I had business. I’m back now.” He places an envelope on the table and slides it over to you. You take it and tuck it away in your inside jacket pocket.

“You gonna get me a drink or what?”

You see the first tinge of a smile, Jake motions toward his left, where the cocktail waitress is approaching with drinks. “Already on the way.” His eyes fixate on your lips, lingering there for a second.

As the waitress places the drinks down, you thank her before she walks away. “So, Jake,” you pick up the glass, bringing it to your lips, “when do you need this?”

“Thursday night.”

“It’s 11:36pm Wednesday.” You crook a brow.

“I need it fast. If anyone can do it, you can.” He takes a sip of his drink before sitting back.

The conversation goes quiet as you drink and study each other. His eyes are heavy with need, desire, and lust. Jake leans forward, “one round here. The place is around the corner. Get to work in the morning. You’ll have plenty of time.”

You feel his words touch the deepest parts of you. Resisting the urge to shift in your seat, you stay still and admire his face, his bone structure, lips, nose, eyebrows…all of it.

After a moment, you lean forward over the table, getting closer to his face, and whisper, “it's a deal.” ‘

More writer Wednesday

More Oscar

More Moon Knight

If I add to this, and you want to be tagged, ask below or send an ask 💕

[sour--disposition]

Take Me By The Hand

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harry lewis x fem!reader

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requested: Heyy, could you do the ‘take my hand’ concept that you did with JJ, but with Harry?? Love your writing sm! Xxx

please see my pinned post for masterlist and request info!

One taking the others hand to help them up

You were 4 when you first met Harry properly. You’d been running around the playground, chasing after one of your friends when you’d taken a tumble and ended up in a small heap on the floor. Harry had come trotting over, sticking out a hand to help you up.

“Is your knee okay?”, he asked you.

“I don’t think so. It’s bleeding”, you told him sadly. 

Harry kept hold of your hand, dragging you over to where the teachers on duty were standing. “She hurt her knee”, Harry said bluntly, poking one of the adults and then pointing to your knee.

Harry followed you and the teacher inside, sitting next to you as you had your knee cleaned and a plaster stuck on. The teacher left to fill in the accident book and write a note for you to take home. “I’m Harry”, the boy said as soon as she’d left.

“I’m Y/N”, you told him with a bright grin.

“Shall we be best friends?”, Harry asked with a toothy smile.

“Yes!”.

-

Holding hands whilst one walks on a small wall

You and Harry had stayed best friends from that day forward. There wasn’t anything that you didn’t do together. Harry would always be the first person you’d turn to whenever anything was wrong. He held your hand through every trip you took to the first aid room in your primary school and he shouldered his way through to sit next to you whenever you were in a classroom together.

Harry asked you out on your first date when you were both 15. You’d gone to his house after school, pestering him until he did his homework before you let him outside. He’d been pacing around the lawn in front of you, completely distracted from his kickaround with Josh, as you sat on the deck with Rosie.

“What’s wrong with him?”, she asked from beside you.

“I have no idea”, you told her. “You know what he’s like though”, you dismissed, all the while worrying about your best friend.

Rosie and Josh ran inside 20 minutes later to help set the table for dinner, leaving you and Harry alone in the back garden. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up with you?”, you asked him.

“Do you wanna go on a date?”, Harry blurted, leaving you stunned. The two of you were wide-eyed in surprise, both with words caught in your throat that you were desperately trying to say. 

“Yeah”, you smiled.

A week later you met Harry by the beach. You’d seen each other through the week during school and spending the evenings after school together, but this evening felt different. This evening would be the one that potentially changed yours and Harry’s relationship forever.

You walked side by side down to the sea front, stopping and sitting on a small wall there. The two of you talked for hours, like you always did. Harry telling you about his family, about what happened in the few classes that you didn’t share together, telling you about his day and you returning the favour. You laughed well into the sunset, a soft silence falling over you as you watched the sun dip beneath the Guernsey horizon.

“It’s getting dark, and it’s cold. Let’s head back”, Harry suggested. As soon as you’d stood up, you stepped up onto the wall you’d just been sitting on, making you ever so slightly taller than Harry. With your arms held out for balance, you took a few tentative steps.

Harry reached out, grabbing your hand to keep you steady. You looked over to him, a shy smile on his face that you soon mirrored, paired with a rosy blush. Harry kept your hands entwined as you walked along the wall, matching his pace with yours so he didn’t rush you and cause you to stumble.

When you reached the end of the wall and jumped down, your hand didn’t leave Harry’s.

-

Holding hands whilst driving

Harry had never let whatever Youtube success he was gaining get in the way of the two of you. He always made time for you, always made you feel important. As soon as he’d learnt to drive and got a car, you and Harry would spend hours traversing the coastline, wind pouring into the window and billowing through your hair as you watched the cliffs and waves pass you by.

If you were in his car, Harry would insist on you being in the passenger seat, no matter who else was joining you. His hand would always rest on your thigh as he drove, only ever moving to change gear before quickly returning to its place.

Your fingers were wrapped loosely in his, making sure he was able to let go and reach for the gear stick whenever he needed to. The roads along the coastline were fairly straight, only ever bending slightly and no sharp turns in sight.

With the road empty bar from the two of you, Harry snuck a glance over to you. Your face was illuminated by the soft glow of the sun, hair windswept against the headrest and over your shoulders.

“I love you”, Harry said simply. It was no massive declaration, it didn’t have to be. You and Harry had been friends for 13 years, together for nearly 2. He’d loved you for as long as he could remember.

“I love you, too”.

-

Possessive hand holding

The first time you visited Harry in London was quite the nerve wracking experience. Aside from helping him move his stuff into his flat with Lux and Freezy, you’d barely seen him since he’d left the small island you both called home.

You waited by baggage claim, leg shaking with restless, nervous energy. It was just your luck that your suitcase was one of the last to make its way through and round the conveyor belt, the hall almost empty by the time you’d got your belongings.

Harry was waiting for you just outside arrivals, just as restless and nervous as you were. His eyes had been glued to the door from the minute you’d text him to let you know you’d reached baggage claim. Every person that walked out of the sliding doors that wasn’t you irritated him even further. It had only been a few weeks since he’d last seen you, and he was going mad.

At last, you trudged through the doors, looking a little worse for wear and incredibly pissed off. But you were there.

Harry wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. “I’ve missed you so much”, he whispered into your hair. “The guys are already at my place, I hope that’s alright”, he told you. “They’re really excited to meet you”.

At Harry’s apartment building, he kept a tight hold on your hand as he led you upstairs. “Harry, it’s okay”, you assured him, squeezing his hand.

“Just nervous”, he told you.

Harry led you into the apartment, pausing for a second so you could drop your case by the door and kick your shoes off. His deathly tight grip on your hand never waned, like he was scared you were going to escape.

“Lads, Y/N”, Harry said awkwardly as he led you through the doorway. “Y/N, both of the Cals, Ethan, JJ, Simon, Josh, Tobi and Vik”, he introduced, pointing to each man in turn as he said their names.

“Nice to meet you”, you smiled happily.

You sat next to Harry on the sofa, squeezed up against his side. His hand was still gripping onto yours, squeezing tighter whenever any of the guys started to talk to you. “Harry”, you whispered, wiggling your fingers in his grip. “What’s wrong?”.

“Someone looks a little jealous if you ask me”, Freezy poked, wicked grin shooting across the living room.

“Oh, give over”, you scoffed, flicking Harry in the chest. “You buffoon. There’s nothing to worry about. Now ease up, you’re cutting off blood flow to my fingers”, you teased.

-

Rubbing their thumb over the other’s hand 

“I don’t wanna leave”, you sighed, leaning further into Harry’s chest. “I miss you too much”, you whispered.

“I miss you, too”, he told you, wrapping both arms around your body and pulling you closer.

Harry watched over your shoulder as you opened your phone and pulled up flight times for a few weeks time, scrolling through them to find the cheapest option. Seeing Harry as often as possible was taking its toll on your finances and Harry knew you’d only accept so much help from him.

“What if this was the last time you flew home?”, Harry asked into your hair.

“What do you mean?”, you asked, thumb pausing over the screen.

“I spoke to Cal about it the other day, before you came”, Harry started. “How would you feel about moving to London?”, he asked.

You turned in his arms, facing Harry. “Are you being serious?”, you asked, a blossoming grin eager to bloom over your face.

“As I’ve ever been”, he whispered.

3 weeks later, you waited at the gate in Guernsey airport, surrounded by your family. “I’m so happy for you”, your mum whispered as she pulled you in for a tight hug. When she pulled back, you were both laughing through the tears that had begun to shed. “You and Harry deserve to be happy”, she told you.

They watched and waved as you walked towards the flight bridge, knowing that this would be the last time they’d see you for a while. You sat in your seat, watching as Guernsey got smaller and smaller below you. Although leaving home was never going to be an easy thing, you knew that you could build a home wherever Harry was.

You’d already shipped a lot of your stuff over to Harry, leaving you only to bring a large suitcase with you on your flight. You had no idea what to expect when you arrived, whether your stuff would be in Harry’s room or boxes strewn into whatever corner of the apartment they could fit into.

“Here”, Harry said as you sat in the car in the car park outside of the apartment building. He handed you a key on a keyring. “House keys”, he told you.

“Thank you”, you smiled

Harry pulled your case behind you as you walked up to the apartment. You stilled in front of the door, Harry pulling to a stop next to you. “Are you okay?”, Harry asked, voice filled with concern.

“Yeah”, you assured him quietly. “It’s just a lot, y’know”, you murmured.

“I know”. Harry’s thumb skimmed across the back of your hand in a soft, repetitive, soothing pattern. “I love you”, he reminded you, thumb never halting its soft reassurance against your skin.

“I know”, you smiled up at him. “But I love you more”.

-

Unconsciously searching for the other’s hand whilst asleep

If you were to ask Harry when he knew you’d be in his life forever, he’d have told you when the two of you were 5. Teasing from the other kids about you being best friends with each other was almost never-ending, but you and Harry always found a way to make light of it.

It wasn’t uncommon to see you and Harry playing with the dolls amongst the other little girls or racing around through the mud with the other boys. Everyone quickly learnt that where Harry went, you went and where you went, Harry went.

Harry knew you were going to be his bestest friend forever when he’d sat down on the grass to play and realised that there were no toys left. You’d come and sat down next to him and you’d played in the mud together, making daisy chains and mud pies and potions that you stirred with sticks, never caring about the dirt coating your pretty pinafore dress.

If you were to ask Harry when he knew that your relationship was meant to last, he would fumble and stumble over his words, not really knowing what to say. It was something that brought his friends great joy, asking what he saw in the future for the two of you. After all, you had been together since you were 15.

The night Harry realised you were his one great love was rather anti-climatic. There was no fireworks or mind-blowing kiss or Earth shattering sex. In fact, you were curled up asleep next to Harry, hair piled on top of your head and the hem of one of his Sidemen Clothing shirts riding up on your thigh.

He’d shut his computer down and gotten ready for bed, sliding in next to you as quietly as possible. Whilst he was lounging in bed next to you, attention focused on the screen of his phone, you’d started shifting beside him. Harry laid stock still, not wanting to wake you up with any movements.

Instead, you reached a hand across the bed, seemingly searching for something. When you couldn’t find whatever it was you were looking for, a frown settled itself onto your face. Harry was sure you were dreaming, but couldn’t resist closing the gap between your fingers and his.

The minute Harry hooked his fingers around yours, the frown on your face disappeared, replaced by a soft, blissful smile. Harry had known you long enough and knew you well enough to know that you were still fast asleep, the gentle sighs falling from your mouth being a dead giveaway.

So, if you asked Harry when he knew that your love was meant to last, he’d tell anyone that listened that it was the moment he realised you loved him even in your dreams.

[beigehearts]

You're the newest spider of the phantom troupe and Phinks decides to help you out in your time of need.

story idea from: @illumisdirthole

this some yummy shit

TW: dubcon, oral sex, fingering

Never in your life did you think you would become a spider of the infamous phantom troupe. But here you are, the newest member who follows the others around like a duckling. Luckily you get along with everyone so it doesn't seem to be a burden to them.

But day in and day out of heists and missions... you get needy. You may be a killer but you're also a woman. It's only natural that you feel this way.

Chrollo booked some hotel rooms for the troupe, putting people in pairs. This mission requires that you be in pairs so it's easiest if you room with your partner.

The rest of the troupe went out for some drinks but you decided to stay back, and hopefully catch up on some desperately needed sleep.

You rifle through your bag to find some comfortable clothes, deciding to just wear shorts and a tank top. Nothing better than snuggling into bed with your bare legs against the sheets.

The room is absolutely freezing but that's how hotel rooms always are. You jump into the bed nearest to the window and sink into the mattress. How long has it been since you've slept on an actual bed? Weeks at least. But all of the days on the ground, against trees, sitting in chairs, was all worth it for this immense comfort you get to sink into.

You snuggle up under the covers and pull them up above your head to shield yourself from the cold air. Ah... So nice... So warm... So soft...

But now that you can relax for once, your body decides to notify you of what you've been missing since you joined the troupe. You rub your legs together and whimper, for some reason you can't stop this desperate need and want between your thighs. You've never been this... wet, when not even thinking of anything lewd.

There's only one thing to do in this situation. There's no shame in a woman pleasuring herself, and you're well acquainted with that fact. You trail your hand down and prod at your holef Quite honestly you're not sure what to do with yourself (without a toy), but you'll try. You've never felt so hot and bothered before so it's never been a necessity to pleasure yourself before you find a toy of some sort.

You press a finger into your hole without much preparation and recoil at the weird feeling. It's just not quite right... You work your hole and find yourself panting and whimpering at the odd feeling. What is it? Why can't you get it right? It's so different when someone else does it or when you push a vibrating stick inside of you.

Unbeknownst to you, the hotel door opens and shuts almost silently. Phinks looks over at your bed to see you sleeping and heads towards the bathroom for a shower. But... maybe you're not sleeping.

Under the sheets he can see your body moving and twitching and hear your pathetic heavy breathing. A knowing smirk tugs at his lips and he watches as you writhe under the sheets for a few minutes, listening to the wet squelching sounds from your pussy.

That's enough for him though. He walks over to your bed and grabs the sheet, throwing it off of the bed and completely exposing you. You freeze in place and go wide eyed with your hand still in your panties. But you come to your senses and sit up, pulling your hand from your shorts quickly.

"Ah, Phinks! It's really not what it looks like, I ju-" As you try to find some feasible excuse he cuts you off.

"Lay down." Is all he says.

You look at him, doe-eyed and stutter out, "What?"

Phinks groans and grabs your ankles, pulling you so that you're laying down again. You yelp at the sudden forceful tug. "I'm not going to repeat myself."

He kneels on the bed between your legs and scoffs, "Obviously you don't know how to pleasure yourself. So let me do it for you."

Your face flushes with embarrassment. "But- I uh-"

He places a hand on your thigh, trailing his calloused fingers up and down your soft flesh. "No strings attached. Okay?"

After contemplating his words for a moment, you nod hesitantly. He wastes no time after your consent, and presses a hand between your shorts and panties, rubbing your folds expertly. An instant moan escapes your lips as he uses sorcery on your desperate pussy.

He runs his fingers up and down on the cloth, fingers bathing in the juices you produce. You cover your face with an arm to avoid his cold and hungry gaze. You're not sure that so little touch has ever felt this good before.

His fingers press against your hole, the fabric rubbing against your sensitive parts. You whimper and your legs begin to shiver at the invasion. His finger pushes into your hole but not much, being blocked by the cloth.

You groan and grit your teeth, "Please Phinks..."

He halts his movements and decides to take this opportunity to tease you, "Please what?"

With an exasperated and frustrated groan you yell out, "Phinks please just finger me!"

He removes his hand and tugs at your shorts and panties, pulling them down your legs. "Oh sweetheart, I can do much better than that."

He throws your clothing to the side and positions his head between your thighs. When he speaks you can feel his hot breath fan over your womanhood. "Let me know if it's too much."

You nod your head and prepare yourself for an uncomfortable incursion. But it's not uncomfortable, it's not uncomfortable at all. His tongue tastes you just barely, leaving you whining.

But you're not left hanging for long, he laps up your juices and is practically making out with your clit. He nips it and you let out a soft mewl. These sensations are so new and overwhelming. And too pleasurable.

He draws his head back and bites your inner thigh, sucking at the traumatized flesh. Your legs shiver and he grabs one of your thighs and holds it down firmly.

"Don't fucking move." His commanding tone sends a spark of fear and interest through your body.

He dives back in and begins licking at your entrance, making sure it's more than ready for his intense penetration.

There's no time to react when his tongue dives inside of you, licking at your soft walls and twisting inside of you. Just from so little, you're already so close. You can feel a tight knot inside of you, ready to snap at any moment. It leaves your head spinning and so gratified that it's almost painful.

"Phinks it's too much..." You gasp out, unable to control your next few moans.

You let out a loud moan, something that's sure to travel through the walls. Your back arches from the bed and that knot snaps. You grip the sheets beside you and find yourself gasping for air. All of your juices covers his tongue and he's more than happy to drink it all up. Not a single drop wasted.

He sits up from between your legs and licks his lips while watching you intently.

"Ph-" You let out a breath, "Phinks that was so good."

He stares down at you and something in his eyes disturbs you. You call out again, "Phinks?"

You hadn't noticed his hand snaking it's way back down to your abused hole. He presses a finger inside of you in one thrust and you take in a sharp breath.

"Phinks" You say shakily, you try to form the smallest of sentences despite the sudden overwhelming feeling. "Phinks that's enough..." You pant out.

Another finger presses inside you, sliding in along his index. You bite your lip as his fingers split, scissoring inside of you and creating a more than embarrassing squelching sound. You try to think of something else but all there is, is him. His fingers, inside of you. That's all there is.

But that's nothing compared to what happens next. He pulls his fingers out slowly only to push them back in. He thrusts his fingers in and out of you relentlessly and all you can do is moan and shake in the sheets.

You try to sit up and move away from Phinks but he grabs your thigh and digs his nail into your flesh. He holds you down so that you can't escape him. His fingers start massaging that perfect spot and you let a sound out that's just short of a yell. Your hands grab fistfulls of the sheets again and your head starts to feel fuzzy, vision blurry. It's too much, it's too much. You can't take anymore-

Your hole clenches around his fingers, pull ing them in deeper and Phinks finger fucks you straight through your orgasm. Once you've regained some sense of intelligence, you realize that you've bitten your lip so hard that it's bleeding. You collapse into the bed and go limp, unable to even attempt to sit up or pull your panties back on.

Phinks retracts his fingers from your sopping cunt and looks at them in amazement, "You really drowned my fingers ,cupcake."

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Angrily in love

Summary: Wanda and Reader are on the run after a mission goes wrong, and they do not have a good relationship. When Wanda is approached in a diner by strange men, Reader confronts them. And some other things. Based on prompt from stay-casual, thanks again dear.

Warnings: Language; All fluff, but also humor. enemies stubborn idiots to lovers.

Words: 3.002 K ////// Read on AO3

Marks > @stay-casual @mionemymind @wandamaximoffpuppy

You and Wanda didn't get along very well.

Which was a problem since you were running away together.

It all started two and a half weeks ago, and honestly, you would blame Steve if anyone asked.

You were both assigned to an infiltration mission into a drug trafficking headquarters in Mexico. It was not your typical job, but there was evidence of Hydra involvement.

And so you and Wanda were team partners, and everything was going very well, until she pissed you off for some reason, and the two of you started to argue. Maybe you miscalculated the impact of your words, because the second you call her "angry little witch" Wanda used her magic to push you, but before you could think of fighting back, there were about fifteen rifles pointed at both of you.

Disguise completely blown, Wanda was quick enough to get you two out of there, and with the entire country on alert, you needed to keep a low profile until it was safe to return to the compound.

So now you were forced to deal with each other's company, and you broke your cell phone when Natasha sent a emoji and a message telling you guys to enjoy your vacation.

At this moment you were driving the van that you managed to steal from the barracks before you left, while Wanda slept in the passenger seat. You reached out to turn on the radio for a bit, but when you started humming the music, it stopped playing. Looking quickly to see what had happened, you let out an incredulous sigh as you saw the familiar red light dissipate in the air.

- I'm sleeping. - Wanda grumbled, and you frowned in irritation as you turned on the radio again.

- Not my problem.

The music started again, but then stopped. You let out a angry whimper.

- Be quiet. - She said without opening her eyes.

And then you turned the sound back on. And Wanda turned it off. And then you did it again. This went on for three minutes, until you hit the brakes, and Wanda opened her eyes with the sudden movement.

- My God, what is your problem? - She shouted, and you ignored the honking sounds behind you as you took the keys off.

- You know what, Maximoff? - You replied angrily, unbuckling your seat belt. - You're driving now.

You dropped the key in her lap, and got out of the vehicle. Turning around, you opened the back door of the van and climbed in. You heard Wanda grumble angrily as she jumped into the driver's seat, but you just leaned against the wall of the van and closed your eyes. A minute after she started the car, you heard the sound of the radio.

Ignoring the urge to break the equipment, you decided to fall asleep.

//-//

Driving for about three hours, Wanda finally parked the van. The lack of movement woke you up, and you yawned lightly as you stretched.

You heard the door open and close, and caught a glimpse of Wanda's red hair as she walked away from the van, so you got out next.

It was a motel, and judging by the amount of cars in the parking lot, it was decent enough to not have diseases in the sheets.

You hurried to catch up with Wanda, and when she entered the reception area, she didn't hold the door, and you almost hit your face on the wood. Swearing softly, you then entered.

- Good evening. - You heard her greet the receptionist, who didn't look very pleased to serve more people. - Two rooms please.

- Sorry, honey. - He said chewing on a small stick between his teeth. - We only have one spare room.

- Wait, what?

- It's the season for Los Muertos, senorita. - clarified the man, and seeing Wanda's expression, he added. - All the places will be crowded with tourists, you are lucky to find anything available around here. - He says with a fake disappointment in his voice.

Wanda let out a sigh, while you were distracted by the fish in the aquarium on the premises.

- It's okay, Wanda, you can sleep on the couch. - You tease without looking at her, but she ignores your comment and hands the money for the room to the receptionist.

- Have a nice stay. If you want something to eat besides the minibar, there is a dinner behind the pool area. - The man says as he hands over the key. Wanda doesn't smile, and leaves the place, you lightly tap your fingers on the aquarium while smiling at the fish before following her.

You two walk to the room in silence, and you sigh as you enter, observing the place. It was simple, yet cozy. The redhead commented softly "thank god" when she notices that there are two beds, and threw the bag she was carrying on top of one of them, before walking to the bathroom, while you start looking for the remote control.

//-//

Two days sharing the same room, and you were surprised that you hadn't killed each other yet. There were a few arguments, mainly over having to share the television, or the delay in the shower, but otherwise things were going pretty well.

It was lunchtime, and you had just used the street phone to try to get in touch with Natasha when you saw Wanda leave the room in the direction of the dinner. She gave you an angry look before she left, and you rolled your eyes before following her, after all, you were starving.

- Why are you following me? - she asked angrily as you walked beside her.

- I'm not following you, I'm going to lunch. The restaurant is not yours. - You retort, and she rolls her eyes.

- God, and you have to have lunch with me now?

- Who says I'm having lunch with you? - you retort impatiently. - I intend to sit fifteen tables away.

- Great!

- Great indeed! - You retort as she opens the door and hurries inside, taking a seat at one of the first empty tables. You curse softly to yourself, and then enter the restaurant.

Unfortunately the only empty table you can find is the one in front of Wanda, and you can see her staring angrily at you. You smile wryly in her direction, and she waves her middle finger at you. But then the waitress approaches, and she looks away. You scold yourself for holding your gaze on her longer than necessary, and then you are served next.

The restaurant was considerably crowded, there were many groups of diverse people eating together, and you noticed that there were also truck drivers, and families, and even young people your own age. Fortunately the service was very good, and soon you were having some fries and meat.

You were finishing your milkshake, slightly distracted by the newspaper that was left on the table for the customers, when a sound of male laughter caught your attention.

Two men, considerably older than you, approached Wanda's table, both exchanging mischievous laughs.

- Come on, let's ask her out. - You heard one of them remark with a chuckle. And then you were already getting up, anger boiling in your chest.

- Hi there, sweetheart, what's your name?

- I'll give you five seconds to leave before I shove my shoe up your ass! - you shouted before Wanda could answer anything. Both men looked at you with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

- Who the hell are you? - One of them sneered, but you shoved him hard enough to make him realize that you were no ordinary girl as he stumbled backwards, his eyes flashed with fear.

- Leave her alone.

The man stumbled backwards poking his friend in the chest, and they both gave you a angry look before leaving. The restaurant was bubbling over with small comments, but you exchanged a glance with the waitress and she didn't seem willing to kick you out for this.

You turned to Wanda next, and she had a very annoyed expression on her face.

- Fine, Wanda, what is it? - you asked impatiently when noticing her face.

- I don't need your help. - She retorted angrily. - I can handle these things just fine on my own.

- Wow, you are really ungrateful. - You sneer, crossing your arms. You look around for a moment, and notice that men in the same profile are still assessing Wanda from afar. You feel your body boil with irritation at the malicious looks they cast at her, and you stare back at them, a murderous expression on your face. They exchange a startled look and you wait for them to stop looking before turning your attention to the redhead - Can I sit with you?

- Excuse me? - she asks angrily, but doesn't even wait for you to answer. - No way! Piss off!

- You are so annoying. - You grumble before going back to your desk.

But you're not even hungry anymore, feeling a strange irritation at the tip of your stomach as you remember the way the men looked at Wanda, so you take the last sips of your milkshake and stand up again. Wanda pretends you don't exist as you walk past her table, and you roll your eyes at the childishness.

- Good afternoon. - You greet the cashier with a smile. - Sorry for the mess. The idiots were harassing my...colleague.

The cashier smiles, accepting the money you gave her. Then she frowns at the amount, and you clear your throat when you say to include Wanda's table bill as well, and she just nods in agreement.

- She's a pretty girl. - The cashier comments as she separates the money. You make a noise of agreement, without really paying attention. - She seems like the kind of girl who breaks not only boys' hearts.

She gives you a suggestive look, and you blink in surprise, averting your eyes and feeling your face heat up.

- Thank you. - You grumble as you get your change.

Leaving the restaurant afterwards, you chide yourself for immediately looking for Wanda through the windows. Turning your head forward, you go back to your room.

//-//

Wanda really got annoyed with your little scene in the restaurant, and didn't talk to you when she came back to the room, not that you were complaining.

And then it was time for her to watch some stupid program, and you left the room, because you were not in the mood of arguing about who's turn it is to watch.

You thought about getting a drink, so you returned to the restaurant, which at this time was considerably emptier.

The cashier from earlier was now serving tables, and smiled at you when you sat down at the counter.

- What will you have, dear? - She asked.

- A hot chocolate please. - You asked, leaning your elbow on the table and your face in your hand. With your free hand you tapped your fingers lightly against the counter.

It didn't take long to get your order, and you and you got a little pensive when the waitress returned, wiping the counter beside you.

- That was quite a scene earlier today. - She comments with a smile. You laugh, slightly embarrassed, but willing to talk.

- Yeah, sorry about that.

- No problem, sweetie. - She comments. - Young people are always so nervous when jealous.

You choke in surprise, feeling your face heat up.

- Jealous? I wasn't...

The waitress giggles, placing the cloth on her left shoulder.

- It's all good, child. - she says. - My husband used to be jealous of truck drivers in this region too. And with a beautiful girlfriend like that, I imagine it's hard for you.

She remarks with a smile before going to serve another customer, and you widen your eyes in surprise, feeling your face very warm.

Then you spent the next five minutes frowning, repeating how absurd it was that anyone would insinuate that you were jealous of Wanda, until the waitress was back again, serving you a doughnut that you didn't ask for but accepted anyway.

- Just to clarify. - You start between one bite and another. - I am not jealous.

The waitress giggles, arranging a few things on the counter.

- I also noticed that you two sat at separate tables, reminded me of my Miguel. - She says with a smile. - We used to fight so much that he would sleep on the balcony.

You laugh lightly, running your hand through your hair.

- But you know, all the fights were just an excuse to get each other's attention. - She says, leaning her hands on the counter in front of you. - To this day, I still believe he would leave the key off the key chain just to hear me grumble and squeeze my butt when he apologized. - She says with a smile that makes you laugh.

And then she is pouring you some more chocolate, and you are ignoring the growing nervousness in your stomach at the thought of her insinuations that you and Wanda were like a couple fighting.

- Rosa. - You call out after reading her name on the badge, she looks at you curiously. - How... How did you know you were in love?

- During a fight, of course. - She says, laughing. - We are in high school, and we had a fight during a soccer game. It was so hilarious. We started fighting about who would play the penalty kick for our team, and one of our classmates tried to get into an argument with me, and Miguel punched him in the nose, yelling that no one could fight with me but him.

You widen your eyes in surprise, but then laugh, finding the story a bit absurd. But the waitress has a nostalgic look in her eyes, as if she is missing something, and you frown.

- What... what happened to Miguel?

You watch her smile slowly die, and something in her gaze change. And then you cough uncomfortably, feeling a pain in your stomach.

- My Miguel was trying to improve our life when the German agents arrived. - She said in a somber tone. You stumbled out of your seat, trying to breathe. - The avengers had no right to take him away from me.

Fucking great, you thought wryly as you felt your throat closing. You stumbled out of the restaurant, falling to your knees. You think you saw a red light before you lost consciousness.

//-//

Something was moving, and it took many minutes for you to realize that it was the surface you were lying on. And then you slowly opened your eyes, blinking as you progressively tried to regain awareness.

- Finally, spitfire. - A female voice commented with irony, and you were startled to see Natasha sitting beside you. You tried to sit up in bed, feeling your body ache to do so.

- Damn it. - You complained of pain, and then you realized that you were on a spaceship. - Wow, how did I get here?

- By being the worst field agent. - Nat scoffed lightly, getting up from her seat to get you some water. You noticed that you were in the medical compartment of the ship. When she handed you the glass of water, you let out a satisfied grunt, drinking it all quickly.

- Let me guess, that lady really poisoned me. - You say, handing the glass back, and Nat sits down beside you on the bed, laughing lightly.

- Seriously, you went out on a simple recognition mission, and now you have shooting, escape and poisoning in your report.

You laugh before you ask.

- How did you find us anyway?

- Wanda, of course. - She tells. - I think you collapsed and she wrecked the whole place. We arrived before the Mexican government arrested you two. Also, the waitress will be questioned, but I don't think she knows much.

- Wait, what do you mean by wrecked the whole place?

Nat laughed, shrugging her shoulders.

- You know how Wanda's magic gets when she is nervous. And well, she was very nervous.

You nod, looking away, feeling a warmth in your cheeks and chest. And then Nat is getting up again.

- Well, I have to tell Steve that you are awake. You've had enough sleep so join us when you can. - She comments with a smile before leaving.

When you look down you notice the needle marks on your arm, where the antidote was probably placed, you sigh slightly.

You stand up, realizing that you feel almost no discomfort in your muscles. Before you can move toward the other room however, there is someone coming in.

- You're really awake. - Wanda comments seriously, stopping in the doorway.

You laugh lightly, deciding to tease her.

- Ah, yes. And I heard that you lost your shit when you saw me pass out. It's touching, really.

- And you are still a complete idiot. - She retorts as she approaches.

- Yes, and yet you still love me.

- I do.

- Wait, what?

But then Wanda advances on you, kissing you on the mouth. It takes a microsecond for you to overcome the shock, and kiss her back with your hands on her waist. You both sigh against each other's mouths, and when air is needed, Wanda pulls her face away slightly.

- Don't ever do that again. - She says breathlessly.

- I didn't choose to be poisoned, you know. - You retort with mild irony. Wanda rolls her eyes smiling as she lets her hands go up to your cheeks.

- I don't want to lose you, even if you are an annoying jerk. - She says and you laugh lightly.

- Thanks for the compliments, dear. It helps my self-esteem. - You reply with irony and Wanda laughs, stealing a few kisses from you.

- Don't be such a crybaby. - She jokes, but something in her eyes changes. - You're also brave, and funny. And sweet, and infuriating attractive.

- Wow, this is turning me on. - You mock lightly, stroking her back and making her laugh. And then you're stealing kisses between your giggles, until you rest your foreheads together. - Just for the record, even though you are a temperamental annoying little witch, I am completely in love with you.

Wanda nods smiling, kissing you again.

[kyberphilosopher]

Cerise

Those are people who died, died Those are people who died, died They were all my friends and just died.

Word Count: 5736 Warnings: Crime, Weapons, Mentioned Murder of a R/pist, Crude humor.

Jason’s friend and roommate, another Gotham villain, is ordered to return to Task Force X.

ce·rise/səˈrēs,səˈrēz/ [noun] a bright or deep red color.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Let’s open up our story on a colorful note: Fuck Amanda Waller. 

Nobody likes her. You don’t like her. Jason doesn’t like her. None of the characters in this story like her. Arguably, none of the characters in your present universe like her, either. There’s a reason why people call her “The Wall”. It’s because that’s what it’s like talking to her. And that’s what it would be like trying to deny the request she’d passed on to you in her letter. 

It weighed on your mind briefly as you walk up the stairs of your apartment building. By the third flight, the weight’s pretty much disappeared. Sure, there’s anger at Waller for violating your agreement, but it’s so useless being annoyed with her that it washes away fast. So by the fourth flight, the whole thing is settled in your head to completion. You’ll go back to your Suicide Squad- or a Suicide Squad, considering most people Waller selects are idiots. Then you’ll do the job, and walk away bing, bang, boom. 

You tip your head politely as if in salute to the older woman, Mallorca, who occupies the apartment across from you. She returns a warm smile that raises her prominent and wrinkled jowls, igniting the fire in her warm brown eyes. “You need me to do your laundry again?” 

Of course an angel such as Mallorca would make such an offer. It’s not a bad offer, either. Your dark, silver lined chest plate is splattered with blood all over the front. It’s nobodies blood that doesn’t deserve it, as per your agreement with Waller. Just some perverted little prick who thought with his dick instead of his brain with the wrong girl. She looked frightened, and you saved her, and since the prick had just hit 18 (a fact you learned after rummaging around his wallet after), you had permission to bash his brain in. Hence the blood splattered vigilante armor. 

The first time Mallorca had seen such a sight, she had no reaction whatsoever. You weren’t sure what else you were expecting from an old woman living in a back alley apartment building, but it certainly wasn’t that. She offered no shock to your red masked, blood stained roommate either. Mallorca is simply an otherworldly being. And is that cocaine you see on the collar of her shirt?

“I got it,” you throw in return, rounding the corner so she’s at your back, and nearing the climb up the next and last flight of stairs. “Hey, is Jason home?” But when you turn around fully, Mallorca shows no intention of responding and has disappeared down your previous staircase. You clasp your hands against the sides of your thighs, “Oh, okay.”

You make your way up the final steps and stick a hand in a secret back pocket to fish around for your keys. You wince when you begin the rigorous task of tugging the lanyard free from the depths, which unfortunately fell near to your back hole. Then you slip the key into the lock and twist. 

Inside your apartment is near emptiness. There’s a couch, a rug, some windows, a TV, and to your immediate right is a small kitchen beside a hallway that leads to a bathroom and two bedrooms. You see the large plant you’d stuck in the corner is wilted and tinged brown, and the TV is playing some movie with the sound muted. No sign of your roommate, however. 

You toss your helmet and keys onto the couch. Then you make your way to the kitchen to search the fridge for a snack (that you know is not there) or perhaps some water. You bend down to peek an eye in, only to stand back up and close the thing. Then you pass over to the counter, and reach up to now peek an eye in the overhead cabinet. 

“You’re home early.”

You let out a short-but cathartic- scream, jumping as you turn around. You relax quickly. It’s only Jason, and your face changes from shocked and panicked to simply annoyed. 

The man at the other side of the room pulls his infamous red helmet from atop his face. Underneath is a classically masculine, handsome face with eyes that blend between green and blue. Black hair falls free in messy strands, accented by the one white tuft that you’ve claimed reminds you of a skunk. You tilt your head lazily in defeat. “How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Jason shrugs in his red hoodie and jeans, walking across the room to set the helmet on the coffee table. “Four. Any particular reason you’re home so early?” he flops himself onto the couch and kicks his feet up, crossing them tastefully next to the Red Hood helmet. 

You turn back around to continue the task of grabbing a cup from the top cabinet. “It’s been five, and I apologize for assuming I could do what I wanted in my own home.”

“If you have to ask me to stop sneaking up on you five times, you’re probably a really bad vigilante.”

“Fuck,” you mutter as you fill the cup with tap water. “That’s true.”

You turn around to face Jason. His eyes are already on you, illuminated by the blue glow from the television. They linger purely on your form for a moment, then they dip down to narrow at your armor. “Were you the one who killed that guy on the back of main?”

You furrow your brows and look up with pursed lips in thought. “Are you talking about the main diner or the main records shop?”

“Main diner on main street.”

“No, that was Azrael. This was by the records shop.” You raise the glass to your lips.

Jason snaps his fingers. “Oh, that guy. The kid?”

You nod and take another sip of the water. “He just turned eighteen, so you know. Free game. So, what do you want for dinner? Pick something good. I’m going back to the squad so I won’t be here for a few weeks.”

Jason’s brows furrow for a split second, then he perks up attentively. “You’re going back to the task force?” he repeats, though it sounds defeated and disbelieving. Distraught- is that the word you’re looking for?

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I got the letter-” you set the cup of water down and reach a hand into your pocket. Then you pull the crumpled envelope free of its confines and toss it onto the counter, “-today.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow again. This time the movement is quick and curved and almost offended. “So, that’s it then?”

“What’s wrong, Jason?” you smirk. “Did you finally fall in love with your roommate turned friend? I always knew this day would come.”

“Uh, no?”

“Suit yourself.”

You turn back around and begin rinsing the cup out. Jason watches your back, something in his chest sinking. You weren’t his best friend. Besides living together, you weren’t really all that close. You were living a life a lot like his, running around at night as some antihero vigilante. The only difference was that you’d crossed paths with Waller and had managed to make it out of her system alive. Most antihero vigilante’s weren’t so lucky. Most of them died. But now you’re telling Jason right to his face that you’re going back. That you think you’ll only be gone a few weeks when it could just be forever. Sprayed with dark blood all over... what if it was yours?

“Actually,” Jason leans forward. His legs drop from the table and spread open, elbows resting against his knees with a hunched back. “Why don’t you pick dinner tonight?”

The glass clinks against the metal of the sink as you set it inside. Jason almost always picks dinner. Most of the time he chooses burgers or Chinese. Your apartments stove isn’t working, so eating from home really just means a BLT sandwich for the both of you. 

“Are you offering because you’re hoping I’ll choose that new steakhouse?” you smile.

“I’ll get you anything you want,” the man replies. “It’s on me.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Jason meets you on the roof of the building about an hour and a half later. You wanted to go with him, since you’d say his behavior is different from usual, but he was very adamant about you staying in. Jason even encouraged you to go ahead and pick your favorite movie to watch while he’s gone. 

When you told him you’d decided on the steakhouse option, you meant it ironically. Between the two of you, money could be described as ‘tight’. Going to a new place like that would mean saving for a while. Furthermore, you hadn’t even given him your order before Red Hood was gone. 

To his credit, looking at him now, you wouldn’t change a thing. The first bite of the food is phenomenal. The second bite is just perfect. Jason must have mind reading powers to be so aware of your taste in food- you’d thought he never noticed. 

He gets a steak, as predicted. Jason loves steak. 

Gotham looks most like itself at night, a view shared between the two of you. Two sets of legs dangle over the side of your building, both of which are clad in heavy boots and armored knees. Jason had decided to go out as his alter ego- a fact he thought he could keep from you by putting his hoodie under his leather jacket. 

“I saw you put your helmet by the door,” you tell him. “I know what’s under that sweatshirt.”

“No you didn’t,” is all he says back. 

The wind tickles the back of your neck. It ripples through the air in lazy waves, making Jason’s hair ruffle. The white skunk streak disappears and reappears between the darker-than-midnight-sky strands. Behind Jason, the moon is full and lonely. Its only company is the two of you. 

“Oh my god,” you stuff your mouth. “This is so good.”

“Hm,” Jason hums in agreement, stabbing his steak once again with a fork in his black to-go box. It’s the next movement of his shoulder that catches your eye. 

“Jason, is that cocaine, or powder donut dust?” 

Jason glances over at you. 

Your eyes linger on the white splotch of something in the wrinkles of red fabric. “Because I asked you not to eat them since there’s only two left.”

Your face slowly falls to one of horror as Jason stays still. With a face of steel, he finally says, “It’s cocaine then.”

“Then?”

“Look what I got you.”

Jason sets his box to the ledge beside him and leans down. 

“Worst subject change ever.” You take an angry bite of your meal in an attempt to both silence yourself and to make you feel better. Unfortunately as you pull away from the bite, crumbs attach themselves to your chest plate and stick to your fingers. “Crap. Jason, your dumb food is getting shit all over my stuff!”

When you look over, Jason’s orbs are already on you. His eyes pierce yours, almost unintentionally daring them to look away. The skunk strands glow this close. He holds two things in his hands. The first is a small, brown pot you could balance in the palm of your hand, filled with miniature yellow and red flowers. Scarlet tulips, golden sunflowers, and blonde alstroemerias. In the other hand is a Blu-ray copy of your favorite film. 

“Oh,” is all you can muster out. 

When was the last time the two of you had actually exchanged gifts? You weren’t lovers, or best friends. You were just friends. It had to have been last Christmas, when you had gotten him a TV subscription for South Park and a pair of socks. Jason had gifted you a new bedframe that he later helped you put together. 

A big smile reaches your eyes and makes your cheeks sore. “I haven’t been able to find this anywhere,” you say, taking the movie from his fingers. Your voice comes out pure and genuine. “Thank you.” Your smile grows even larger when you cup the pot of flowers with both hands. 

“All of the flower shops were closed,” Jason explains. “Those are plastic. They won’t die anytime soon.”

At that moment, you swear you could’ve kissed him. He’s looking at you like this is all nothing, like he didn’t just drop big money on dinner and flowers for you. Jason knew what food you wanted before you did. He knew your favorite movie when you can’t even remember saying a thing about it. When had any other man or woman been so thoughtful? So romantic? So caring?

You glance down to the film in your lap. “I didn’t think you payed attention this well.”

Jason’s brow quirks upwards. Something flashes in his eyes as he adjusts his position, seven stories up from the ground. “What kind of roomie would I be if I didn’t?” he asks. Something tells you there’s a shyness blooming in that broad chest of his. Jason’s eyes flit downward to the blood on you, before his head dips back upwards to lock a stare with you once more. “You smell nice,” he states.

You look up at him simply. You know your eyes are filled with pure adoration, and that it’s showing all over your face, but you don’t care. Your red hooded, drug pedaling, bat wrangling, gun toting equal roommate is your favorite person in all of Gotham at this exact moment. 

Behind Jason, a small bird flits overhead with a flash of crimson. “Hey, look,” you pat Jason’s shoulder. His eyes follow yours until they land on the floor of the roof behind you. “I think it’s a robin.”

“I know that bird,” Jason scowls. “That’s the son of the bitch that keeps waking me up in the morning.”

“Hm?”

You watch as Jason swings his legs over the side and pushes himself from the ledge. One hand reaches into the back of his pants while the other searches his leather jacket pocket for something. After a few seconds, he produces both a clip of ammo and a gun, which connect with a click. 

“Ah!” you yelp, placing both the flowers and movie on the brick before copying your friends actions and standing on the roof. Jason hasn’t shot yet, but the gun in his hand is aimed right at the little birdie. He’s got a clean shot. His face remains neutral and unmoving as you take your place beside him. 

It’s a full minute, and the robin is still alive and intact. He nibbles on a little crumb of bread. “He looks happy,” you think out loud. The air of Gotham goes quiet up on that roof, despite the distant sirens, music, and people throughout the city. “Are you gonna shoot?”

Jason’s finger lingers over the trigger. Even the slightest of a squeeze would set the weapon off at this point. The balls of your feet move to and froe, anticipating the bang you’re so familiar with. But then Jason lowers the gun completely, and the robin flies away at the movement. “Nah. He’ll feel the pain I dish out in the morning.”

“Don’t be sad,” you nudge Jason. “He’ll be back at six AM tomorrow to wake you up.” You turn to return to your beckoning food on the ledge. “Thanks for all this, anyway.”

“You’re welcome,” you hear Jason respond. “Hey Y/N?”

Jason watches you spin until you’re completely facing him. He can see the blood again. How it’s completely standing out against the darkness of your outfit. You look powerful, yeah. And you look like the antihero you’re labeled as. But all Jason sees is a corpse of a... of a friend. “Yeah?”

“You’re sure about this Waller thing?”

“Yeah?” you reply, as if it were obvious. The stain on you is so haunting it’s easy to think otherwise. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. It’ll only be a few weeks. I’ll be back before you know it. Then I can show you this sick ass movie.”

Then you go back to walking towards the ledge to retake your seat. But Jason remains standing. He watches as you, the person he thinks of naked so often, get comfortable, your back facing him. And, despite your word, Jason has the sinking feeling that some Suicide Squad mission isn’t the only place Amanda Waller will send you to. 

This time, Amanda Waller will send you to your grave.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was supposed to be out on August 16th, for Jason’s birthday. But the concept came to me too late and I spent too long on it. Anyway, here’s some symbolism for ya.

Tulips symbolize unconditional love. Sunflowers symbolize adoration. Alstroemeria’s symbolize devotion. The reader describes the plant in their apartment as turning brown, suggesting it may share a similar fate as the reader as plants go brown when about to die. Robin’s symbolize optimism, a trait the reader displays towards the idea of returning to the Suicide Squad. Robin was also a former identity of Red Hood. Both of which could be why Jason decides to spare the bird. 

I’ll go back and proof read this in the morning.

[starlessea]

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Chapter 2. Manic Pixie Dream Bitch

A/N Make sure you read the prologue and other chapters first! Things are starting to pick up - I hope you stick around for the ride.

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 5374

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury, Domestic abuse mentions

The evening was cool, and a breeze hung in the air.

The midday Georgia heat had all but melted away, leaving behind tepid winds that rustled leaves on the trees — and the canvas tents. They fluttered around you as you walked, like the beating of butterfly wings, or ripples atop the ocean.

It was peaceful. It felt safe.

All eyes were on you as you followed Daryl to the firepit, taking a seat on a low log beside him — but not too close.

The night was still too young to turn in yet, so the man had begrudgingly led you out of his tent when the silence became stifling. For some reason, conversation didn't come as naturally to the two of you as it once had.

There was tension there. You could feel it.

But you didn't have the slightest clue why. The last time you had seen Dixon, it was in the midst of a tremendous thunderstorm. The two of you had laughed, and ran through the rain until your clothes were soaked through, and your skin was cold.

It was one of the best nights of your life.

Yet, here you were — sitting beside the man in stagnant silence as he kicked at coal embers with his boot, and pretended not to feel your stare seeping into the back of his head.

Across from you were the people you had briefly met earlier — the two officers by the names of Shane and Rick, or helicopter boy — the asian man named Glenn, and Carol who was sitting beside her husband. Their individual conversations were low, barely audible against the crackling fire, but one-by-one they seemed to filter off, until there was nothing but silence once again.

Shane stood up.

He stoked the fire a little with a branch, careful not to let the flames rise too high. "So, tell me," the man spoke, his voice wide and assertive,"how's a sweet young thing like yourself figure out how to fly a Sikorsky Hawk?"

His presence was big.

It made you shuffle in your seat as his eyes dragged down you, resting on your arm — which was bound by a sling. "Well, minus the landing part," he murmured below his breath.

You didn't like the way he smirked when he said that, like it had been amusing to him — funny to him that you'd almost died. Daryl let out a sound beside you, a low rumbling noise from the back of his throat that only you could hear. But you didn't bite to his words.

After all, men like that could only bark.

"I was in the military," you answered, meeting his eyes and not breaking the stare.

Your throat was still sore, but your words rang out clear, atop the thrum of the evening air, and flickering flames. Shane stuffed his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on the balls of his feet — as though he was putting on some type of show.

"Air force, then?" he questioned, but it was starting to feel more like an interrogation.

You caught the whites of Carol's eyes across from you, as they darted between the officer and yourself, and to her husband, then back to the other officer. She seemed as skittish as a person could possibly be — just watching, waiting, for something to happen.

You cleared your throat and forced a smile. "Training to be," you clarified.

For some reason, the exchange didn't feel like a conversation. The mood was too tense, too untrusting. It reminded you of the few minutes you'd spent alone with Dixon, back at his tent.

Something felt wrong.

Shane stalked around the firepit, his police boots crunching against the leafy bed, and kicking up dirt where he walked. He stopped directly in front of you, looming a shadow down onto you and Daryl — and making the other man scoff as he looked up.

"So not actually a pilot yet?" Shane smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your smile faltered, he was asking too many questions.

The other officer, Rick, took off his sheriff's hat and tracked his partner's movements with his eyes, as though anticipating something that hadn't happened yet. It made you feel a nervousness you were ashamed of.

You never did play well with men like Shane.

"And tell me this," he said, lowly, as he crouched down to your level, "why aren't you at Fort Benning?" He looked back over his shoulder, at Rick who was sitting stiff as a board, before cocking his head back to you."Or were you part of the group that showered Atlanta with napalm?"

The word hung heavy in the air — even though he had practically whispered it.

Your mind flickered back to the day it rained fire down upon the city, to the sounds of screams, and the charred remains you'd stumbled across on the occasions you wandered too close to the centre.

You shook your head immediately, feeling the pain shoot up your shoulder. "I had no part in that," you hissed — much more viciously than you anticipated.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you curled in on yourself. You didn't miss the way the man recoiled slightly from your face, and you'd even caught a fleeting glimpse of your reflection in the blacks of his irises.

You wore a look of pure disgust.

"I was discharged," you whispered, after taking a few moments to collect yourself. "Couple months before all this." You glanced to your right, to where the former mechanic was sitting — trying to pretend like he wasn't watching you. "Got sent to Georgia afterwards, which is where I met Daryl," you explained, noticing his eyes narrow at your words. "Briefly."

He looked away. He didn't seem to like that choice, either.

Shane stood back up, stretching out his knees, and then his neck. He rolled his head back in a circle, before glancing to and from you and Daryl with a smirk.

"Makes sense," he murmured, before turning on his heels to walk away, "dropouts tend to stick together, no?"

And for the second time today, Dixon went wild.

The tension finally snapped, like an elastic band having been stretched to its limit, and Daryl shot up to his feet, lunging for the man.

But you reached out for him at the same time, trying to grab his hand so that the night didn't end in the way you were almost certain it was going to end.

After all, you'd only seen Daryl go off once before — back in the old world — which had left an aftertaste of bloodstains over your bar, and maroon-tinted bruised knuckles that needed tending to well after your closing time.

But now he seemed even worse — more tightly wound than a coil beneath your boot, always ready to jump up and spring.

He was playing the part of a man far more angry than you had ever known him to be.

Although you still couldn't figure out why.

The ticking of the wall clock was stark against the silence. Joe's Bar had been cleared out more than an hour back, but the two of you remained — like ghosts haunting whiskey bottles and looming around the jukebox until it played a song you liked.

Dixon hissed as you tipped alcohol over his knuckles, watching as it seeped into the cuts and spread over his bruises like a clear film. They weren't that bad, really — only a purplish hue to them.

After all, you'd seen the other guy.

But you'd never seen Dixon get so riled up before. He'd always been a cocktail of shy glances and dumb wonder around you. That was until tonight at least, when a drunken customer slapped your ass at the bar, and the mechanic beat him bloody.

He'd probably seen how rattled it had made you, and how you looked ready to either snap or break.

"Ya don' have to do this," the man rasped, purposefully avoiding your eyes. "Save the vodka."

Your hand stilled over his knuckles, as you breathed in the strong, sharp scent which made your lungs burn. You laughed, pointing back over your shoulder at the shelves atop of shelves — stacked with an array of bottles, all different shapes and sizes.

"We've got plenty to spare, don't you worry," you hummed, before tipping more Smirnoff onto a cotton pad. "And you didn't have to do that, either," you chided, narrowing your eyes at a particular cut — which had already begun to crust over. "I could've handled him."

The mechanic scowled, glancing back over his shoulder to the place where it had all gone down — as though watching the scene play out once more in his mind.

He shook his head. "Ya could'a lost yer job."

"I'm used to that by now," you bit back, not once looking up from his bruise-splayed knuckles. "But Dixon," you cautioned, "don't go doing that again."

A car drove by outside, its headlights streaming in through the window and illuminating the dark husk of the bar — the pool tables that had been otherwise cloaked in shadows, and the expression of the man sitting opposite you, studying your every word.

"Joe might bar you next time," you whispered, screwing the lid back onto the bottle.

But Dixon only laughed.

"Barred from a bar?" he scoffed, stretching out his fingers to inspect your work, "he ain't gonna do tha'."

The stool squeaked as the man stood up, dusting off his jeans and retrieving his jacket. It was long past midnight, and you knew you'd be catching a ride back with him as he sped down the streets, reminding you to hold on tighter.

"What makes you so sure?" you teased, untying your apron and leaving it at the end of the counter.

Daryl held the door open, and fished around in his pockets for something that jingled — pulling it out to show you.

It was a set of car keys, with a tacky coke-bottle charm hanging from them.

"Still got his truck sittin' in the shop," he smirked.

The scuffle between Shane and Daryl was interrupted before blows could even be exchanged. Rick grabbed a hold of his partner, whilst you pulled the former mechanic back down to his firepit seat, trading places with him until you were face-to-face with the other asshole — a few inches shorter but a whole lot more pissed.

Daryl tried to stand back up again, but you flashed those eyes at him — the ones that made him immediately second guess the action.

"Sit down," you seethed, punching out each word as you spoke them.

And surprisingly, Dixon did as you said.

You weren't angry at him, exactly, but you didn't want him fighting your battles for you anymore — especially not whilst he had a chip on his shoulder more noticeable than the sling on yours.

Then you turned back to Shane, looking up at him as he stood with his chest almost flush to you, completely ignoring Rick's pleas behind him. He knew exactly what he was doing. That comment wasn't off-handed — he made sure you could hear it.

"I don't like you," you said lowly, not backing down from the glare he shot your way.

You didn't want things to turn out like this. There was nothing more you hated than making a scene.

Well, there was one thing, you thought.

You couldn't fucking stand men who abused their power.

"Don't have to like me, princess," Shane retorted, reaching out a hand in your direction. "I'm just here to keep you alive."

You smacked his palm away — as though it were a fly buzzing much too close — before he could make contact with your skin. And you saw red.

Daryl would have punched a man for less, if you'd so much as given him the right look. But this time, you shot a warning glance at him, telling him to stay put.

"Don't fucking touch me," you whispered, but your words held more weight than if you'd screamed them — and Shane retracted his hand. "I can take care of myself."

Except, he made a point of letting his eyes drag over your injuries, lingering on the makeshift sling, before settling on your stomach — as though he could see your stitches underneath the material of Daryl's shirt.

"Clearly," he remarked, before turning on his heels once again.

Nobody stopped him this time — not even Rick — as he stalked around the fire, and into the night. You caught a glimpse of his metal dog tags as he did, glinting off the light of the flame and jumping around his neck with every step he took. You thought it was ironic for him to even wear them.

Or maybe not.

After all, he seemed the same as every other military man you'd encountered — a goddamn animal.

"Make sure you take care of your manic pixie dream bitch," he yelled, probably directed at Dixon. "Wouldn't want anymore helicopters fallin' from the damn sky."

And so Shane disappeared into his tent — into the shadows you couldn't quite make out — and Daryl stood up straight after, heading in the opposite direction. The remaining group was uneasy, tentative almost, as they watched your head whip back and forth between them and the mechanic as he left.

Dixon stalked away into the brush, despite the shouts and warnings not to stray too far from the campsite.

And you followed him.

With each step further from the flickering flames of the bonfires, it became harder to navigate the night. Your injuries had slowed you down, and you flinched every time a twig snapped, or leaves rustled near your ear. You didn't even have a weapon anymore — since it had burnt up with the rest of your gear in the crash.

But it didn't take you long to track down Dixon. After all, his smoke trail gave him away.

He was sitting on a grassy bank, over facing the quarry waters. There was a full moon out, and you could now see it peering above the tops of the trees — ghostly white against the stark, black sky. And cigarette smoke swirled around it, leading back down to the shadowy figure on the ground, legs tucked up to his chest as he breathed deeply.

You approached, wincing as your shoulder caught on a low-hanging branch.

"Yer gonna bust ya stitches messin' 'round like tha'," Dixon spoke, not even turning around to confirm it was you. But still, he outstretched a hand, helping you sit down beside him.

The moonlight was beautiful. It drizzled over the treetops in the distance, and the spindly branches that reached up to the sky. It even reflected off Daryl's skin as you glanced at him in the corner of your eye — watching as the smoke poured out from his lips and settled in the air.

You tucked yourself into his side just a little, missing the heavy feeling of your jacket which smelt like him — and was almost just as warm. Part of you expected him to shrug you off, or make some remark in-keeping with how withdrawn he'd been throughout the day.

But, he didn't.

He let you sit beside him, as he blocked you from the breeze — as though you weren't the one person who would be used to it.

"Got a spare?" you asked, eyeing his packet of cigarettes.

Dixon hesitated for a second, before placing them down in the space between you. "Thought ya didn't smoke," he replied.

You shook your head and laughed. "I don't."

In truth, you'd only recently taken up the habit — smoking much too scarcely to even call it a habit, really. It had all started when you'd stumbled across a rundown convenience store, and looted a packet of cigarettes without thinking — just because they were the brand that Dixon smoked.

The first time you lit one, you'd cried. They smelt like him.

They'd smelt like your only friend, and reminded you of just how lonely the end of the world was. So, you started to smoke — only when you missed him — and you continued because, even though he was now sitting beside you, for some reason you still felt empty.

Neither of you said anything after that, but you could hear his thoughts — those questions he wanted to ask but didn't. After all, he'd voiced them once before, back before the world ended. Except, it was you who wasn't willing to answer.

"What'd ya do tha' got yer ass sent here?" Dixon asked, one day whilst you were hanging around at the auto-shop, watching him scrub down that Honda bike. "Y'know, locked away in rural Georgia."

You laughed at his words, taking a swig from the ice cold cola you'd skimmed from Dean's fridge.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I was training to be a helicopter pilot," you admitted into the air, answering that question truthfully for the first time.

But he'd already guessed — after the day you'd both had.

"Why didn't it work out?" Daryl mumbled, the cigarette bouncing between his lips as he spoke the words.

You watched as the smoke formed white clouds against the black night, before finally reaching for the packet yourself.

"Fear of heights," you told the man, letting out a breathy chuckle that blew out the lighter's flame.

It was a lie, but the truth was much more bleak.

Though, perhaps that was what nights like this were for. Out here, there was no one else to hear you speak your thoughts, or even see the two silhouettes sitting in the dark. Maybe you could even start trusting the man called Daryl Dixon, since he'd done nothing but pick you up and set you back onto your feet ever since you fell from the sky — and even some time before that.

"No matter how long I would fly for, I always had to land at some point," you explained, though it didn't really sound like much of an explanation. "But the people on the ground made me wish that I never had."

Daryl met your eyes, and in that moment you swore you saw a glimpse of that former mechanic — the one who was street smart but still clueless to people.

"That was until I met a man at a garage who promised to show me the world on his bike," you smiled, before letting the smoke trail from your lips, "but we ended up watching the stars instead."

Dixon didn't smile back.

And somehow, the smoke on your lips tasted more familiar — felt more like Daryl — than the man sitting beside you.

"Ya can take the tent tonight," he mumbled, snuffing his cigarette butt out on the grass.

You pulled a face, but he didn't retrieve it like he normally would — he probably thought there was nothing left in the world worth preserving anymore.

"And what about you?" you asked, making an expression he couldn't even see. "You should rest up before tomorrow."

But the man shook his head in the dark, pushing back on his knuckles to stand up — and offering you his hand once more.

"I ain't none of yer concern," he dismissed, whilst his palm was still warm in yours, "'m gonna sleep out under the stars."

The stars were bright overhead, with no light pollution, or mysterious blinking flickers that could have been mistaken for planes of satellites. But somehow, you didn't fully believe his story.

You laughed, but it wasn't the warm kind. It was the kind that felt foreign on your tongue, because it was a far cry from the fits of giggles the man normally had you in.

"Well, enjoy the view," you replied, shortly.

But you failed to notice the way Dixon watched you the entirety of the way back to camp — as though he already was.

Once Daryl had walked you there, and left you at the tent doorway, he did indeed roll out an old blanket over the grass, to lay back underneath the stars — just as promised.

He was far enough away that he didn't feel like you were right beside him, but still close enough to make out your silhouette against the lamp-lit canvas walls of his tent. That way, he didn't have to worry about walkers — but he didn't have to worry about you, either.

The night was quiet. The full, bright moon beamed down on him like a streetlight and the stars blinked in the sky like peering sets of eyes — staring back at him whilst he looked up. Daryl sighed, and crumpled his packet of cigarettes in his fist, crushing any left inside.

He needed to stop smoking them, because now they'd become tainted by you — and had become another thing that inescapably reminded him of you.

The lingering scent of them on his fingertips alone made him remember just how intoxicating you were. It made Daryl feel like he'd gotten a high from the scent of unbottled moonshine, or from that smile of pure starlight which could make a man go blind.

Though, he'd only had the pleasure of seeing it once today. The rest of the time you'd been pissed, confused, hurt.

He'd probably caused a lot of that — he wasn't that oblivious.

But you were the type who could break his heart without even knowing, and then offer to mend it like it had been someone else who'd done the damage.

He didn't understand how you could act so nonchalant, so blasé, as though you hadn't nearly died, and as though you hadn't just come back from the dead — where Daryl had thought you'd been this entire time.

He laughed, and it almost sounded as cold as the one you'd directed at him earlier.

Merle always called him naive, but Daryl often overcompensated for the fact with blind curses and bruised knuckles from butting heads those who suspected him of being as much.

But it had been the truth.

He was naive — especially when it came to you.

But, Daryl was also angry and hurt. And he didn't know how to fix that without bruising his knuckles — or his ego.

He bit his lip, wetting away the dryness with his tongue, whilst trying not to focus on how dry his throat felt, too. Then, Daryl rested his arm over his eyes.

He didn't feel like watching the stars anymore.

When you awoke, light had filtered into the tent through the mesh netting, speckling over your face like glittering gold as you blinked.

But when you awoke, the man was gone — leaving only another shirt behind in his place.

It almost made you cry, because of how familiar it felt. It smelled like Joe's Bar, of Marlboro cigarettes, of Georgia, and of home.

But you couldn't cry; you hadn't done since the day everything fell apart. So instead, you pulled on your big-girl shirt — the one belonging to the man twice the size of you — and grit your teeth as you threaded your bruised arm through the sleeve, and caught your stitches on the buttons.

You spent the whole morning trying not to notice the glaringly obvious absence in the camp — the men who'd left in search of Merle Dixon. But at the same time, you grimaced at the sight of the ones who hadn't left, the ones like Shane, and Carol's husband — who leered at the women as they washed his fucking underwear.

"Carol, why don't you ask Ed to come and help us," Andrea remarked, glancing towards the man resting languidly by his jeep, "make himself useful instead of just standing there smoking cigarettes."

Beside you, Jacqui laughed a high-pitched laugh, as she wrung out another damp t-shirt in her fists. You had only been formally introduced to her this morning, but her smile was infectious — and for a minute, it made you forget about the anxiety deep in the pits of your stomach.

Carol was quiet, but eventually chirped up once she mustered enough confidence.

"If I knew how to get him to do that, I would have done it years ago," she muttered, and shyly rolled her eyes.

Andrea boomed out a laugh, whilst the others chimed in at the appearance of Carol's unexpected humour. You tried not to let the chuckle wrack up your body, since every slight movement sent shockwaves to your injuries. But at this moment, you didn't really mind.

Carol had a pretty smile, and an even nicer laugh.

Except, her husband didn't seem to think so.

He stalked over with the same bravado Shane had mastered the night before — probably taking inspiration from the other man who wore boots three times his size. You could make out the sneer on his face before he even got within a few steps of you all. It was just that deep.

The man flicked his cigarette in your direction, and it barely missed the toe of your boot.

"What's so funny, hmm?" he jeered, but his tone was anything but light. You didn't have to hear them twice to recognise those words as a threat. "Gotta be somethin' if it's got you ladies so distracted."

Each of the women stayed silent as a grave — as though in some secret pact Ed was unaware of. He sauntered around, weaving in between Jacqui and Andrea, until the latter eventually snapped.

"Is it really any of your business?" she remarked, frustration clear in her voice. "After all, we're the ones doing your laundry."

She thrust the damp clothes she was holding at the man's chest, before letting them fall to the floor. The moment you heard them hit the ground, your hands were already shaking with adrenaline. You knew that look — the one Ed wore — and nothing good ever came from it.

He stepped up to Andrea, his pride damper than the shirt at his feet. "Know your place, little bitch," he hissed, shoving her back with his shoulder.

And chaos broke out.

Jacqui's screams sounded very much like her high-pitched laughs had done, and Lori called for Shane like a broken record that only knew a single name. You wanted to get everyone to calm down. You wanted to diffuse the situation like how you'd been trained to do.

But all you saw was red.

Carol interjected, lacing herself around her husband's arm as she begged for him to stop. "Ed, please don't-"

The man backhanded his wife, sending her to the ground with a single strike.

And that was your queue.

You rushed over, feeling your feet sink into the pebbles deeply with each step. You had a dozen stitches in your stomach, but you would rather pop every damn one open than let him get away with that.

"You dare lay your hands on her?" you roared, approaching the man — the monster — from behind as he loomed over Carol like a shadow of cowardice.

Ed reacted out of instinct, flailing his arm backwards and hitting you across the jaw with his elbow as you tried to pull him away. Immediately, your mouth pooled with the taste of copper, and you spit it out onto the pebbled stones beneath your feet.

You looked over at Andrea, who was dumbstruck as she watched blood drizzle from your lip, before you wiped it away by the sleeve of Daryl's shirt — with your one good arm.

"Get Carol out of here," you said, so quiet that it might as well have been a whisper.

You looked at the man, sizing him up as he stared you down.

"She isn't gonna want to see this."

The evening sunset was a vibrant salmon, tinged with deeper, darker hues the further you got from the sun. Those parts of the sky were the same maroon colour as your jaw — you'd caught glimpses of it in Andrea's compact mirror.

You'd spent the latter part of the day avoiding Shane's lectures, and the women who meant well but fussed over you far too much. So, you retreated back to Dixon's tent — icing the ripe bruise on your chin with a pack from Dale's RV cooler.

The scent of Marlboro cigarettes lingered around you — faint but still present in the fibers of the blankets beneath you, and in your shirt which was now bloodstained. You tried to ignore the pull of it, not wanting to smoke.

The tent puckered as someone fumbled with it, and soon the entrance flap was unzipped — revealing Carol, who timidly ducked inside.

"We meet again," you greeted her, thinking back to how she'd tended to your wounds in this very spot, not even a full day before. "I was going to apologise for beating your husband into the ground, but I couldn't bring myself to say that I'm sorry."

You grimaced as the words left your mouth. They sounded a lot more sharp than you'd intended.

But she still smiled warmly at you, a smile that you didn't think you deserved, and shook her head. The woman sat down on her knees opposite you, coaxing the ice-pack away from your skin for a second to inspect the damage.

"I don't blame you," she said, as gentle as her touch. She smelt like citrus, and summer days as her palm ghosted over your face. "I came to thank you, actually. For being the first to stand up for me."

Your gaze dropped down to where her sleeves had risen up, revealing the yellowish bruises dotted over her arms — in the shape of fingerprints.

"Well, someone had to," you noted, sadly.

She caught the way your eyes lingered, and quickly adjusted her shirt, pulling it back down to her wrists.

"Was it really that obvious?" she chuckled, nervously.

But you felt like she already knew the answer.

Her stance was practiced, even sitting down. She wasn't at all relaxed, hovering on her knees like a small rabbit, ready to dart to safety at a moment's notice. You felt like you were looking into a mirror — one that only reflected the past.

You nodded. "When you know the signs, it is," you admitted, sitting back against Dixon's pillow. "I had my suspicions before."

She hummed in return, acting much more casually around you than she had done a mere moment before. "What gave it away?" she asked — curious more than anything.

Light streamed in through the little plastic windows on the tent, falling in a stream between you — warm against your lap.

"Your hair, for one thing," you confessed, gesturing with your free hand. "You shave it yourself? To stop him grabbing it during fights?"

She remained silent at the accusation, but her eyes gave her entirely away.

You nodded. "They always tend to stoop that low."

And Carol bit her lip in response, not pointing out how you'd done the same with your braids — keeping them tight to your scalp, not even a strand out of place.

She excused herself then, making some remark about how she best ought to go check on her husband, before letting you catch a glimpse of the brave scowl which made its way onto her face as she said it. The sun hung high in the sky as she ducked back out, almost as bright as that full moon had been the night before.

"Hey, Carol," you said, loud enough for her to still hear it, "if he gives you trouble again, don't hesitate to come find me."

The woman nodded once more, and waved you off.

"Just you wait until my good arm heals," you called after her. "My right hook's even better than my left."

Then, you winked — watching as she debated letting out the laugh she had stifled — as you recalled the actual reason that got you hauled off to Georgia in the first place.

Dishonourable discharge, my ass.

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[yourfavouriterival]

THOMAS SHELBY - flora

note : I RLY LIKE THIS ONE BECAUSE I WANTED HAPPY AND I GOT HAPPY WRITING THIS OKAY

warnings : is fluff a warning?????? uhhhh, sleepy humor, tired reader, teasing tommy, mentions of boobies, this one is just super fluffy, slight anger

word count : 1451

summary : tommy visits a sleepy y/n at two in the morning

pairing : tommy shelby x female reader

masterlist

Y/N woke up to a nice breeze blowing onto her, the crisp air fluttering her soft bed sheets and causing her skin to erupt in goosebumps. It was late in the night and she flicked her eyes to the clock that was propped up on her bedside table — why was I awake at two in the morning?

But her blood froze when she heard a thump coming from her kitchen and she sat upright, clutching the bedsheets to her chest and — oh, why in fuck did she sleep naked tonight? She’d been too tired to change her clothes and decided to just throw her clothes off and fall into bed.

So, when she finally stood up, she pulled on her robe and tied it around her waist before opening her drawer and pulling out her gun — just for safety’s sake. When she walked down, she made sure that the safety was off and that she was ready to fire if the need arose. She made it to her kitchen and with the help of the moonlight, she saw the shadow of someone — someone who was obviously taller and stronger than her.

She stepped in cautiously and almost laughed — both in relief and at the pure ridiculousness of the scene she walked in on — when she saw Thomas fucking Shelby, her best and closest friend, trying to hold up one of the plants she kept on her kitchen counter. It was obvious that he had knocked it out of where it normally was and he was trying to find the same support.

“May I ask what the fuck you’re doing?” Her question made him jump, but he turned around and saw her and his tension disappeared. She sighed as she put the safety back onto the gun and thumped it down on the kitchen table.

“You may not,” he replied lowly, not taking his hand off the plant.

“Alright,” she sighed, coming up to his left. “What did my plant ever do to you?”

“Was looking for a light.”

“In my plant?” She shook her head, bringing her hands up to his and removing them quickly. “Let me fix it. You can sit down and stay away from my greenery.”

She heard him grumble something before her chair scraped as he plopped down. She quickly supported the plant with one of the sticks that held the top of it up and then turned around, standing behind him. “You don’t have lights at your place?”

“I needed to make sure you were alright,” he sighed.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She let her hands wander up to his head, gently removing his cap and then running her fingers through his hair. Their dynamic had always been more couple-like than friendship-like, but that’s the way they worked together. Tommy let his head fall back against her hands, closing his eyes.

“Business,” he replied shortly, and she hummed.

“Alright,” she smiled before she giggled down at him. “How’d you break in?”

“I have an extra key,” he explained, but immediately winced when she yanked his hair and then let go of him completely.

“Since fucking when?”

“Since always.”

“What?”

“Look, it was just a safety precaution—”

“Like Hell it was! I have a fucking gun? What, you think that an intruder’s going to be stopped by you having a fucking key?” She took a couple steps from him, now standing with her back pressed against the window of her kitchen, glaring down at the ground with her arms crossed over her chest. “I have a gun for a reason.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head. “Don’t roll your fucking eyes at me, okay?”

“Oh, get off your fucking high horse. I can do what I please with my eyes,” she spat. “In fact, I can do whatever the fuck I want with my body.”

“Of course you can,” he sighed, standing up and moving to stand in front of her, towering over her slouched frame.

“So, you came here at two in the morning to ‘get a light’, eh?” She scoffed out a bitter laugh and kept her eyes trained on the floor. Her arms tightened around her body when she remembered that she was only wearing a flimsy robe in front of her best friend, legs out and about and now covered in goosebumps. “Or is it because you might actually care about me?”

“Of course I care about you,” he sighed, bringing his large hands up to rub over her arms, breathing deeply.

“Just ‘cause you care about me doesn’t mean that you can make copies of m’keys without telling me,” she frowned, her lips forming a pout when Tommy tilted her chin up.

“Okay,” he said, dropping his head down slightly. “I won’t make copies without telling you, alright?”

“And you won’t fuck with my flora.”

“And,” he breathed before a chuckle escaped him. “I won’t fuck with your flora.”

“Good,” she grinned, letting her arms fall from her chest, thumping against the windowsill, dropping her head down onto her shoulders. A cold breeze flew through the kitchen and she shivered, barely noticing how her nipples pebbled and pointed through the robe, nor did she notice how Tommy’s eyes flickered down to her chest. “It’s a bit cold in here, innit?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, distracted by her legs in between his pressing together. Her eyes flicked up to his face and she frowned when she noticed how distracted he looked.

“Tommy, my eyes are up here,” she laughed, snapping her fingers in front of his face and smiling, shaking her head when he finally tilted his head up to meet her eyes. “There we are,” she giggled, lifting her hands up to his face and cupping his jaw. “What’s got you all distracted, eh?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, bringing his hands up to hers and pressing them tighter to his jaw.

“Liar,” she teased, rolling her eyes and rubbing her thumbs across his cheekbones. “Tommy—”

“You.”

“What?” It was silent for a moment and her hands froze in his cheeks, her finger twitching at the feeling of his soft skin.

“You’re distracting,” he said softly, moving his hands from hers and sliding them to her neck, his hands cradling the back of it and she let her head loll into them, closing her eyes and letting a soft smile fall onto her lips.

“Your flattery will get you to many places, Thomas Shelby, but it won’t get you into my bed,” she laughed but the laugh faltered when she felt him move closer, moving his head to speak into her ear.

“What will, then?”

“Show me a good time,” she giggled, hooking her arms around his neck. “Then we’ll see—hey!” In that moment, he had moved his hands down to her ass and grasped it tightly. “Sneaky,” she taunted, pushing her hips into his hands and opening her eyes, winking at him.

Then there was only him, and there was only her. It was silent, save for the wind rushing past the windows and the occasional thump of a branch on another branch and their breaths mingled in the soft atmosphere they created. It was so peaceful, even if Y/N’s eyes were still burning slightly from waking up so abruptly.

“Tom.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re still holding my arse,” she giggled, leaning her head forwards onto his chest and breathing in his smell.

“I know,” he replied cheekily, squeezing one more time for emphasis.

“Dick,” she muttered.

“Sure,” he murmured back, placing his chin on the top of her head and breathing in her shampoo.

“You must be tired,” she said softly, closing her eyes as her head moved to bury itself in his neck.

“Think you’re projecting, love,” he hummed.

“Ooh, call me ‘love’ again, please,” she hummed.

“Why?”

“‘S nice,” she said, lifting her head up to look him in the eyes. “Like your voice.”

“Yeah, you’re way too tired.”

“Am not! I fixed a plant,” she whined but a squeal escaped her throat when he suddenly lifted her into the air, letting her legs wrap around his hips. “Taking me to bed, are you?”

“Yes, and you’re going to sleep—”

“With you?”

“No.”

A frown planted itself on her face when she felt him lower her onto the bed. “You’re s’strong,” she whimpered, curling into a ball.

A loving smile fell onto Tommy’s face as he pulled the covers over her. “I’m a man.”

“Women can be strong, too.”

“Never said they couldn’t.”

“You kind of did,” she whispered, letting her voice drop to a quiet breath.

“Whatever you say, love.”

“I do say that—”

“Hush.”