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m00nlight-ramblings · 11 months

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I Wanna Be Yours

(I've had this idea since I've seen like, a million 80's movies in succession). You're close to valedictorian, a known smarty-pants. So imagine your surprise when you become friends with Eddie Munson...and then fall in love with him.

Pairing: Eddie x female reader, friends x lovers, dual pov

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), swearing

*MINORS DNI*

Word Count: 4.16k

REMINDER: My inbox is open so please request some stuff because I'm dying to write!

"Oh, fuck where is it?" You loudly murmured, shuffling the books in your locker. They clanged around, sending soft bonk! noises and reverberations through your locker, which only made you more annoyed. You huffed, dropping your arms by your side. You only had a few minutes before you had to be in class, and you couldn't find your fucking book.

You groaned and started the process again, knowing you'd probably be fruitless - you've only checked like, 100 times, so at this point you'd just have to accept the fact that you'd somehow forgotten it at home. It also didn't help that your locker was stacked to the brim with books, folders, papers, and miscellaneous things you've collected in just a month since school started

"Um...you okay?" A voice asked behind you, startling you out of your frustrated trance. You turned to see Eddie Munson standing there, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear and tilting his head. Slightly embarrassed, you shrugged and huffed (again).

"Yeah I just...can't find my chemistry book. And I have class in-" You checked your watch, "Seven minutes." (And it also just so happened that chemistry was your worst class so you like, really needed this damn book).

"Want me to check?" He offered, gesturing to the locker. You paused a moment, and furrowed your brow. Then, you stepped aside, giving him access to your locker. He stepped forward, leaning into the locker and started gently exploring.

"Yeah, you can try but I don't think you'll find it. I've checked, like, a hundred times and I think I just left it at home and-"

"Here it is! Chemistry you said, right? You're looking for..." Eddie took a moment to examine the cover of the book. With a boisterous (and very silly) voice, he spoke, "Chemistry 301: Principles of Organic Chemistry?"

You gasped and smiled at him, snatching the book from him and staring at it. How did he find it? "Oh my god, are you kidding? I've been looking for this thing for like, 10 minutes. Where was it?!"

Eddie chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly, "Right in the front."

You looked at him, "I could hug you right now, oh my god! Chemistry is my worst subject and I can't even focus in that class if I don't have the book with me and...ugh. You're a life saver. Thank you." You beamed, hopping on your toes a little.

You and Eddie never really spoke, but of course knew each other - everyone in Hawkins did. Having a few classes with him over the years, any conversation you ever had with him was in passing. But after him your book for you, and seeing his smile..."The Freak" didn't actually seem all that freaky at all.

"Yeah, well, no worries. I'm just a good ole knight in shining armor, I guess." He bashfully made a face, causing you to giggle. "Actually...I just wanted to come over and thank you for something."

Confused, you cocked my head to the side, "Thank me?"

Eddie nodded, stepping aside so you could close your locker, "Yeah. I heard from Wheeler the other day that he dropped all his books and shit in the hallway and you helped him grab everything," His smile was soft...if you weren't looking so hard at his face (why were you staring?), you'd have missed it, "That was nice. So...thanks."

You nodded, mirroring the small smile. "Wheeler as in...Mike Wheeler? The freshman?" You thought back to a few days ago, "Yeah...he said he tripped, but Craig from the football team was lurking around so I have a feeling Mike didn't trip all by himself," I rolled my eyes, "People can be dicks sometimes so...anyway. I know what it's like to be a freshman." You slowly started to walk to class, Eddie following in line next to you.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence before Eddie cleared his throat and spoke again, "So...chemistry's not your best subject, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, "Definitely not. I hate it...it's so hard. My favorite class is English."

"English? Hey, mine too. What's your favorite book?"

You pause, furrowing your brows again, "...don't laugh."

He throws his hands up in an "I'm innocent" movement, "Cross my heart."

You take a moment before you speak, "I like 'The Hobbit'. I've read it, like, a million times. I re-read it like, once a year-"

"'The Hobbit'? I like that one too!" Eddie smiled widely, "...do you listen to Led Zeppelin by any chance?"

You laugh, "Are you about to tell me that 'Ramble On' was inspired by 'The Hobbit?" You watch his eyes widen slightly.

"You know that already?"

You nod, "My dad loves them. Has all their records. He can't help but spit out random fun facts about that stuff. I like them, too," You find yourself in front of your chemistry class, "Well...this is me. Thanks for finding my book again, Eddie."

He leans his shoulder against the wall and smiles. You notice his eyes flicker quickly to your lips and back to your eyes again before he speaks, "No problem. Thanks for helping Wheeler. I'll...see you around, I guess?"

You nod, looking back at him while you head into class, "Definitely."

And that was the start of you and Eddie.

Eddie didn't know what had come over him that day, helping you out at your locker. Wheeler had mentioned once that you seemed cool (Henderson enthusiastically agreed), and ever since then, he was convinced he had to thank you. Not just because you had helped his friend (which was cool), but also...had you always been that pretty?

Sure, you two didn't seem to have anything in common - you were known for being one of the smartest kids in school, with like 1,000 extracurriculars, bound for some Ivy League on the East Coast, and Eddie was...well, Eddie. Now in his third try at being a senior, school wasn't necessarily his strongest subject. But, you hadn't ever played in him being a freak, and always seemed kind so...he figured it would be safe to thank you for being so nice to his friend.

Because that's all he wanted to do...was thank you. That was all. Definitely not flirt with you or anything.

After that moment at your locker, Eddie seemed to run into you everywhere - lunch period, the hallway, even the mall that one time he actually went because he needed to pick up some D&D books from the bookstore. And slowly but surely, "running into each other" turned into:

"What do you mean she's just watching?" Dustin asked one day, setting up the drama room for Hellfire Club, "You never let people just watch. They always have to play. Is she going to play?"

"No, Dustin, for the hundredth time explaining, she is not playing. She is watching. Do you have a problem with her? Mortal enemies or something?"

Dustin eyed Eddie and shrugged, eventually going back to setting the table up, "No I just...you never let people watch..." He starts to grumble, "I guess in order to watch you need to have boobs, or something..."

That night at the game, Eddie wasn't his best DM self. He was distracted - probably had to do with the hours of homework he "needed to do", and definitely wasn't because you were there, sitting next to him, intently watching the game and reacting. It definitely didn't have anything to do with your cute gasps, or little squeals, or laughter whenever something happened.

Definitely not, at all.

At one point in the game, you tapped him on the shoulder. He leaned into you, not taking his eyes off of the rest of Hellfire Club, who were currently engrossed in trying to figure out their next strategy.

"Yes, m'lady?" Eddie asks in a British accent.

"Wouldn't Henderson's character be able to go through that door? Like...isn't he really charismatic? So like...can't he convince the guard to let them pass? I know he's not like, the main dude in the game or whatever but..." Your voice trails off as you realize that maybe you were too off base. You didn't really know the game at all, but that seemed right...right?

Eddie nodded slowly and his eyes darted over to you quickly...you were right. Holy shit...you were right, and Eddie totally didn't see this lapse in judgement. He smiled at you and took note of how his heart seemed to flip into his stomach, sending a quick shiver down his spine.

Shit. He was in trouble.

"Eddie, can you turn it down a little bit? I'm trying to concentrate." You groaned slightly, shifting your head in your hand as your eyes scan the textbook in front of you. Not that it's really doing anything since you can't seem to retain any information at the moment.

Eddie, who was currently practicing his air guitar solo to Metallica's "Ride the Lightning", gave three quick headbangs before turning down the music, but immediately went back to air guitar.

"Aren't I supposed to be helping you with your science homework?" You asked, a little annoyance rising, "If you're gonna be distracted, I'm gonna go home. I have like, a million college brochures to go through and-"

"No! No!" He immediately stops and stands at attention like a soldier, salute and everything, "Okay. I'll stop." He jumps on the bed next to you, sending a pencil fly in the air. He caught it and stuck it behind his ear, "Okay. Science!" He clapped his hand and rubs them together like a mad scientist.

You chuckle and roll your eyes playfully, gently shoving his shoulder beside you. "Okay, so, when dealing with organism structure, you have to remember that everything is made up of cells, right? So when thinking of specialized parts of the body-" You look up to see him staring at you, definitely not paying attention to what you're saying. "Eddie..."

He snaps to attention and smiles bashfully, "Sorry. I'm...distracted?" His eyes dart to your lips again and your heart does that annoying "pounding in your chest" thing it does basically every time Eddie looks at you.

"Do you want to be a senior for a fourth time?"

He playfully shakes his head, "Nope. Definitely not."

"What's got you so distracted, anyway? Thinking about your date with Mindi tomorrow?" You probed him a bit, trying to get more information out of him. When you had become friends with Eddie, he definitely had his fair share of..."girlfriends". Which at first, you didn't mind.

Not that you minded now, but...five months after initially becoming friends with him, you would just prefer if you were his girlfriend.

Eddie's face flushed and he looked away, throwing the pencil behind his ear on to his dresser across the room, "Oh, Mindi? No, I...cancelled that. Like, a week ago." He suddenly got off of the bed and started to pace around his bedroom a little. I watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Why? Weren't you like, so excited to take her to the movies? You said she was soooOoo hot and blah blah blah-"

"I'm just not interested in her anymore." He interrupted you, stopping his pacing. He turned to face you and didn't break eye contact, his eyes seemingly staring into your brain.

Did he know? Did he know how you had fallen for him?

It started slowly, in a way you didn't even recognize - he made you laugh more than other people, you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, and he was so kind...not only to you, but to his friends, and even your parents when he'd come to pick you up on a Friday night with the group. He'd always come to the door, always make small talk with your mom. Not only that, but he was a gentleman, which surprised you - opened doors, pulling out your chair...

Not to mention, when it was late at night and you couldn't sleep, you couldn't help your thoughts turn to his hands in your hair, his dick inside of you, whispering your name over and over again.

The sudden realization that you were falling in love with him slapped you hard in the face - one day after school, you two were walking to his van for a ride home and someone's car blew past you in the parking lot, seemingly out of nowhere. You were about to step out but Eddie pulled you back, your body immediately pressing against his, your face mere inches from each other.

The air was electric, and you couldn't look away from his eyes. Finally, he spoke, "...you okay?" His voice was husky, low. It sent goosebumps down your arms, which were currently being held by Eddie's. You could only nod, words escaping you. Finally, Eddie broke the spell by screaming at the car, "JESUS CHRIST YOU PIECE OF SHIT WATCH WHAT YOU'RE DOING BEFORE YOU FUCKING KILL SOMEONE!"

Back in his room, you eyed him. "Why aren't you interested in her anymore?" You asked quietly, sensing the air shift. It felt more tense, more heavy.

What the fuck was going on?

Eddie, seemed to zone out for a second, taking a piece of his hair and chewing on it lightly. His eyes were focused on the floor, "Maybe...I think because...I'm interested in someone else?" It came out as a question, not a statement.

You swallowed hard. He was acting strange. Your heart started to beat strong enough that you heard it in your head. "...who are you interested in, then?" You asked. You took the textbook you were reading and closed it, putting it on his bedside table. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Please be me, please be me, please be me! Your brain was shouting so loud you were surprised he couldn't hear it.

Eddie looked up at you quickly and then back down again, his face unreadable. Which was concerning, because Eddie's face was always an animated as a Muppet.

Was it hot in here?

Taking a step forward, he was standing at the foot of the bed now. It seemed like he was thinking...hard. "I..."

Before he could even start, he finished. The single word hung in the air, causing your heart to race even faster and your head to swim. You WHAT, Eddie? You felt like you were about to lose your mind. Was he going to say it or not? Were you going to find out, or not?

"I'MINLOVEWITHYOU." You said loudly, the words spilling out of your mouth before you could even stop them. You gasped and clapped your hand over your mouth, hoping that somehow that action would suck the words back in, as if it never happened. Eddie's head snapped up and he stared at you. The air had been sucked out of the room in one fell swoop, and you could feel embarrassed tears prickle at your eyes. "Oh, god, Eddie...I-I-"

Oh no...what had you done? You had just ruined something between you and one of your closest friends. No more movie nights, no more homework sessions, no more late night phone conversations-

In a single motion, Eddie was on top of you, his lips crashing into yours. You didn't have time to even think, but your hands immediately found their way into his hair, cradling his scalp as he pressed his body into yours. You gasped at his initial contact but quickly found yourself melting into the kiss. Eddie moaned into your mouth, his tongue gently asking permission to open. Once granted, he hungrily kissed you, pressing your back into the bed.

"Eddie..." You breathed as you pulled back a bit, looking at him. He smirked and started to pepper your chin with gentle kisses, a far cry from the kiss that had started the whole thing.

"Mmmmyes?" His eyes were twinkling as he looked at you. Suddenly he pulled back, his mouth agape, "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! No-" You almost shouted, "No, I-"

"I love you too." He said quickly, a flush coming to his face, "I...love you too. I have. For a while."

You smile, heart feeling like it's about to explode. You pulled him back into a kiss, using your tongue to explore his immediately. He moaned, pressing his groin into yours. You felt an instant rush of wetness to your panties as your hands found their way to the nape of his neck. Eddie pulled away from the kiss, his hand gently finding it's way to the top of your pants. He looked at you and you nodded, and he quickly undid the button, pulling them down, exposing your pink cotton underwear, which you felt was already starting to soak through.

Eddie hissed as he slid down your body, pressing his mouth to the wet spot on your underwear. You gasped lightly, watching him. He was quite beautiful - his hair starting to dampen with sweat at the hairline, his eyes shimmery, hungry for you. He pressed his tongue down flat on your wet spot once - teasingly - and leaned up again, removing his shirt.

Your head was still swimming as he fully pulled your pants off at your ankles, gently spreading your legs, and pushing your underwear aside. He laid on his stomach, getting comfortable, and wrapped your legs on his shoulders. He quickly glanced up at you, his eyes dark.

"Your pussy is so fucking beautiful." He said, his voice a low growl. His voice caused you to whimper slightly, and before you could even think, his tongue was moving in action, teasing your clit in small, wet motions.

"Oh, fuck, Eddie-" You couldn't think as the pleasure started to rise.

"You're already so wet for me, princess," He said, going back to your clit again. He paused to pull your underwear off but was quickly back in your pussy, moaning as if he was eating a delectable meal. He switched between quick, teasing moments, and flattening his tongue against the entirety of your pussy. You weren't sure if it was because he was just that good, or if it was because you had quite literally been dreaming of this moment for a while, but after a few minutes, you felt the coil in your lower belly start to tighten.

"Fuck Eddie...you feel so fucking good. I-I-I'm close, I think-"

"Come for me." He spoke into your pussy, suddenly slipping a finger in. Slowly at first, he started to finger you, curving his finger in an upwards motion while inside. You shrieked, immediately grabbing his hair with both hands. He responded by growling into your mound, concentrated on sending you over the edge.

Suddenly, the coil snapped and you moaned his name, no longer in control of what came out of your mouth. Your head was swimming with hot pleasure, beads of sweat gathering on your temple as your hips bucked into his mouth. Eddie slipped his finger out and gave your clit a final, gentle kiss before he slid out from under your legs and sat on his knees. He stared at you and started to shake his head, smiling.

"So fucking sexy..." He murmured, unbuckling his pants. Quickly, you reached up to help him and he looked at you.

"Just trying to get your pants off faster," You said, a blush rising to you.

"And why's that?"

"I need you. To fuck me. Right now." You said, dragging his pants down. He chuckled and stood up, shaking his pants down to his ankles. The length of his cock sprung up in his boxers, creating a tent that your eyes immediately fell on. He paused a moment and took his boxers off, his cock already glistening with precum. He slowly made his way back to you, laying on top of you. His cock laid in between the lips of your pussy, causing you to moan slightly. He sucked on your neck, a hand finding it's way to your hair and tugging slightly.

"You're awfully greedy." He purred into your ear teasingly. You heard him open his bedside table drawer, grabbing a condom and snapping the draw shut. Kneeling up again while discarding the condom wrapper, he rolled the condom on his dick achingly slow, never taking his eyes off of you. You felt a new rush of wetness slide through your pussy, and you opened your legs up more.

Eddie stroked his cock a few times before lining himself up with your entrance, which was already aching with pleasure. He leaned forward, his forehead touching yours. Your breath hitched in your stomach as he looked into your eyes and you nodded, giving him the go ahead. His dick slid in without resistance, causing you to moan loudly and his eyes to roll back.

"Shit, baby, you're so fucking wet," He hissed, starting to thrust slowly into you, "So fucking tight. Fuck s'good."

Eddie's cock filled you, every thrust sending a new wave of pleasure through you. You couldn't help your moaning - thank god Eddie's uncle wasn't home - and you felt like you were almost having an out of body experience. As Eddie started to speed his thrusts up, your hands find their way to the back of his hips, and your nails started to dig in deeper and deeper.

"Yes. Right there. Right there, Eddie. Fuck, you fuck me so good!" You stammered as he hit your walls. He grunted, panting, his hair tickling your face.

"Right there, baby? You like it right there?" He spoke, his voice a guttural growl, "You gonna come for me again, sweetheart? Be a good girl for me and show me."

His words shot through your pussy in combination with his thrusts, the sound of his dick slipping in and out of your wet pussy driving you over the edge. Sloppy kisses were exchanged as one of Eddie's hand found it's way underneath your shirt and bra, fingering a nipple.

"Fuck...I should've taken this shit off before we started." Eddie mumbled, still thrusting. You replied by whipping the shirt above your head, unhooking your bra and throwing it to the ground. Eddie's eyebrows raised and he smirked, leaning down to immediately take your nipple in his mouth. Your back arched and you gasped, one hand pushing Eddie's head down on your tits, and the other pushing his ass down to fuck you harder.

"Harder and you're gonna make me come again." You whimpered. Eddie responded by taking your nipple in his teeth, sucking harder and harder.

You started to see stars. You had never felt this type of pleasure before, and you never wanted it to stop. The combination of Eddie's cock, his mouth, and his words were about to send you careening over the edge.

"Oh, god-"

"Oh fuck, baby. I'm gonna come." Eddie said, his face finding your neck again. The hand on his head found its way to his chin, cradling it. His hair swung back and forth, and his eyelids were half shut, a deep crimson rising in his face.

"Come for me. Come with me-" Was all you were able to get out before one final thrust from Eddie sent you over the edge, causing you to scream his name, your hands finding his sheets and gripping for dear life. Hearing your screams caused Eddie to moan loudly, his whole body tensing as he spilled into the condom. He said your name, not quite as loud as your screams, but with matching intensity.

The only noises that could be heard were panting from the both of you. After a moment, Eddie slid out from inside of you, falling to the side of you and immediately taking you into his arms, kissing the top of your shoulder.

"So..." He finally said, a small chuckle playing on his words. You giggled and turned to face him, looking into his eyes.

"So."

"Now that we've established we're absolutely head over heels for each other", Eddie started, placing a kiss on your forehead, "And we're both incredibly sexually compatible..." Another kiss, "Is it like, totally corny to ask you to be my girlfriend or...no?"

You giggled again, running a hand through his hair, "I don't think so. I'd say yes, i think."

"You think?!"

"I'm kidding!" You laughed, sitting up on your elbow. You started to trace circles on his chest, the air falling back into place again. "So what now?"

"What now?!" Eddie asked. Boasting his best DM voice, he sat up and waved his arms in the air, "There's a whole big beautiful world we get to discover now together!"

You smirked, running a hand down his bare thigh, "But what if...I just want to stay in bed?"

A blush rose on Eddie's face and he smiled, looking at your lips, "Oh, well in that case, there's a lot to discover in here, too."

He reached over to his bedside table and opened the drawer again.

------

Whew, a doozy! What did you guys think?! My first time writing smut but it was just a little idea I had on my mind for a bit so I had to get it out. I love me some cute Eddie ideas.

REMINDER: My inbox is open so please request some stuff because I'm dying to write!

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fan fiction

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urhoneycombwitch · 9 months

Note

eddie who's cynical and grumpy only because he hasn't had proper aftercare. most people just roll over or leave when they're done and those that do stay to cuddle, it's Eddie holding them and never the other way around. He doesn't want to admit that it makes him feel dissatisfied afterwards, like the sex wasn't even worth it, because he got laid, that's the point, why complain? But there's just something... missing (and I figure aftercare wasn't as talked about in the 80s so he isn't really too sure what that something is)

Until a night with reader where they have absolutely mind-blowing sex, parting with heavy breaths and as Eddie's heart rate starts to slow back down to normal again, he's waiting for reader to grab their clothes, roll over on their side, something that breaks the connection and makes his heart drop. But they don't, reaching out a weak hand (because they're sluggish waiting for their soul to return to their body) to rub his arm. A gentle back and forth, which feels nice, but Eddie's suspicious. What is this, why are they doing it, and why does it feel good?

And then, "Can I play with your hair?" (from the muse prompt lol) and he's agreeing with a shrug and when reader starts to card their fingers through his curls and massage his scalp, Eddie melts. It's like a whole brain recalibration. His icy heart getting thawed out just because someone made sure to take care of him too. And if reader wakes up earlier in the morning just to ask how he likes his eggs? Eddie's already decided that he's gotta lock them down.

+18 mdni

cw: p in v sex, cockwarming

It’s you tipping over the edge into orgasm, choking his cock with your velvet walls, soft whine spilling from the back of your throat, that takes Eddie with you.

As he comes, he burrows his face into your neck. Your hands reach for his skull to draw him closer, and he unintentionally bites down a bit too hard on the soft skin of your neck.

You let out a gasp, fingers seizing in his hair, and he’s quick to pull his mouth up, kissing and soothing over the spot he’s left with his teeth.

“Shit, sorry, sweetheart,” he pants, the affection slipping out despite himself.

“It’s’okay,” you mumble out in one word, limbs going to putty, hands extricating themselves from his hair.

Eddie rises to his elbows and moves to gingerly pull out but you stop him, fingers flying up to dig into the meat of his biceps.

“Wait, can you- will you just stay in? For a little bit?”

You’re not kidding, he can tell- you’ve got a wounded puppy look that he’s dying to change. Eddie sinks slowly back into you, rotates his hips a bit so you take less of his weight, and settles his head on your collarbone.

A big, dreamy sigh, from you- like you’re perfectly content because of how close Eddie is.

His eyes flutter shut when you begin tracing light lines with the pads of your fingers over his bare back.

“What’cha doin’?” Eddie murmurs into the skin of your sternum.

Up his spine, circling under the curtain of hair against his neck, down the spine again; looping and rhythmic. Your hands don’t slow as you whisper “Lovin’ on you, weirdo. Hush.”

You can feel the well of his dimples against your skin as he smiles.

“Can I play with your hair?” you ask quietly, and before he’s even finished nodding you’ve got both hands winding into his dark locks.

You start gentle, thumbs at his temples, light touches against his scalp, but when your hands find the roots you give a short but hard tug.

The little flash of pain goes straight to his dick, and he bucks into you with a low groan, half filled-out already.

“You gonna give me another pretty mark to look at?” you purr.

Eddie lifts his head from your chest and grazes his teeth into the opposing side of your neck just below your ear, in tandem with a sharp snap of his hips.

He catches your clit beneath his thumb and grins wicked when you moan, pulling up again to look down at you as he says, “Gimme another one of your pretty orgasms and we’ve got a deal.”

#eddie munson x reader #lu’s anons #e.m. thots from lu #thank you anonnnnnn #eddie munson smut

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abbyshands · 2 months

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𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ YOU GOT ME, DARLING 𓄀 part 1

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

𓄀 pairing: cowgirl!reader x city girl!abby anderson

𓄀 includes: masc!reader, tall!reader, reader has tattoos and piercings and is implied to be muscular, established friendships (abby x ellie, dina, and manny), reader has an established backstory, modern setting, flirting, reader has an accent so read as such!

𓄀 summary: you decide to represent your business, cowboy classics, at seattle’s annual farmer’s market, unaware that the universe would send an angel with blonde hair and blue eyes to your feet.

𓄀 notes: so i had a lil’ idea and i ran with it so i present this lil’ series i’m gonna start <3 i have lots of ideas for it so be prepared for it to be a lil’ all over the place if i’m being honest. also, eventual smut of course! please comment or let me know if you want to be tagged. alright now, enjoy! ♡

𓄀 wc: 3k

every year, seattle hosts a farmer’s market that lasts a week, the hottest week of the summer. for the last, dear god, however many years you had lived here, you had never come to it, much less represented your business at it. but this year, you figured, why not? all your other friends were pooling into the heart of the city to attend the yearly market, so why couldn’t you?

you weren’t the biggest fan of seattle when you first arrived here. it was a stark contrast from where you grew up, a little prairie in rural texas. you remember shuddering each time you passed by a building the first week you lived here, wondering, where the hell are the fields?

seattle was just so different. rainy, cold, urbanized down to the last letter. you had moved here from texas when you were only 18 by your parents’ wishes for you to go to a college, get a degree, and get a damn job. your parents had been hard on you growing up for reasons unbeknownst to you, not like it mattered. not then, and not now.

after studying in college for two years and narrowly managing to get an associate’s degree in business, you decided to not pursue your bachelor’s, instead getting right to work. you earned yourself a job as a construction worker, the closest you had gotten to home since moving to seattle two years prior. the hot days when the sun came out in the summer, the rigorous work outside, the dirt on your skin by evening to show for a job well done. it was all you could have asked for and more.

when you managed to get yourself afloat, considerably well off, you ventured right outside urban seattle and scored yourself a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, far up a mile long dirt road. it was perfect, reminiscent of that old texas charm you had missed so dearly since leaving it. and then, when you finally settled down, you purchased a place bordering the urban and rural areas of seattle to make your own, where you used your associate’s degree and your casual texan charm to open a business.

cowboy classics read the sign hanging off your stand as the hot summer sun beat down on your back, shining down on your skin, which glistened with sweat as you set up your stand. thank god your stall had a roof, or else you’d be a goner for the next few hours that you’d be at the farmer’s market.

the market was crowded that morning, and more people were drawn to you and your stand than you were ready for. you couldn’t say you weren’t flattered, especially when you made a solid hundred dollars in the first hour and pretty girls were all but falling at your feet to buy your merchandise.

cowboy classics consisted of several products right off your farm. fruits like apples, berries, and melons, veggies like corn and peppers, and herbs of all kinds, such as cilantro, parsley, and rosemary, which you had grown yourself. dairy products, like fresh milk in classic milk jugs, regular and strawberry, cream cheese, and smooth butter. jams and jellies that the folks back home and your friends here in seattle could die for. and last but not least, handmade soaps and candles.

one would wonder why your shop was called cowboy classics when you were clearly a girl, if it weren’t for your heavily masculine energy. it seemed to radiate off of you, like the very sunrays shining down on your skin. from your voice, deep and low, thick with a rural texan accent, to your attire, a flannel and jeans, a belt with a big buckle and boots, and you couldn’t miss the cowboy hat, to even your scent, musky cologne mixed with the smells of your farm and all the products you produced from it.

now, city girl abby anderson couldn’t be further from a cowgirl. having grown up in the heart of seattle, washington, abigail “abby” anderson works as a personal trainer at a gym a few blocks away from her house. as tall, big, and muscular as she is, she couldn’t be more awkward. she wasn’t clueless, she just preferred her bed to being so human as to socialize. she was a little shy, but complex in nature, her sweet blue eyes easy to get lost in, her blonde hair shaping her freckled face to flawlessness.

the yearly market was always fun for abby. her dad would always take a few days off his shifts at the hospital just to bring abby to the market, unable to resist the way her eyes lit up when they settled on all the wonders the place had to offer, at least for a little girl. now that she was older, she had grown to adore it even more. it was all so raw, so natural, and the products at the market were inexpensive and could actually be of use to her.

abby was walking through the market with a few friends beside her. her best friend, ellie, her girlfriend, dina, and one of abby’s closest friends, manny. manny liked the market as much as abby did, though it was less for what you could buy and more for what you could take home with you. in other words, the pretty girls. ellie previously just liked to accompany abby to the market, but since having met dina, she came more for dina’s love of it.

“shit, it’s hot,” abby said, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead for the third time in the last ten minutes. her pale forehead glistened with sweat, little blonde baby hairs plastered to it.

ellie chuckled, nodding. “this heat wave’s no fucking joke. we’re going to be liquid by the time we get out of here.”

“ooh, look at that! those shirts are so cute!” dina suddenly exclaimed, causing the group’s attention to snap to a stand of hand knitted shirts and randomized accessories, like scarves, purses, and gloves. before ellie could even respond, dina was dragging her by the hand to the stand.

abby chuckled, having grown quite used to dina’s impulsive nature. when she turned to her side to look to manny, she realized that he had also wandered off, easily finding him chatting up a pretty girl at a different stall. abby rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. those were her friends for you. looks like she was on her own.

if she was being honest, she preferred to walk through the market alone, at least when she was actually looking through the vendors for good finds. it was reminiscent of her childhood, this little piece of seattle that gave the city girl a taste of what it was like on the other side of urban, even if it only lasted a week.

abby was walking through the market, having yet to find a stand that piqued her interest, when one poked out at her. curiously, she squinted to get a better look at it, her feet approaching it of their own accord. the owner’s back was turned, but abby could tell that it was a woman, one that was a sight for sore eyes, at that. but what interested her, too, was the variety of products at the stand, produce and dairy products, jams and jellies, paired with what looked like soaps and candles.

it was only when she turned around that abby’s attention was hers, and hers only.

who the hell is that?

the closer abby got to your stand, the more intrigued by you she was. you had a face that could bring anybody to their knees, clad in a flannel and dark blue jeans, a brown belt with a huge buckle, and jesus christ, a black cowboy hat to top it off. it was like she had looked one way and been in seattle, washington, than turned and teleported into rural texas. she couldn’t help the way her eyes raked over your body, taking you in in all your glory, tattooed arms and hands with a prominent tattoo on your neck and collarbone, several silver piercings in your ears.

alright, she’d bite.

and she hoped you would, too.

your interest was piqued when you saw her walking up to your stand. the girls who had approached you thus far were pretty, but this girl was a downright stunner. blonde hair tied back in a braid that fell over her right shoulder, exposed by her black tank top, paired with her brown cargo shorts. she had these pretty blue eyes, too, pretty blue eyes that sparkled like sweet diamonds in the burning seattle sun, accompanying the prominent freckles on her nose and cheeks.

she was muscular like you, only it peaked out in her arms, hands, and thighs, whereas your muscle presented itself in your broad shoulders and chest. you can’t wipe the grin off your face as she approaches your stand, and you set down the soaps you’d just picked up from a crate behind you on the stand, seeing as you had just sold out for the second time since arriving at the market.

“hey there,” you smile at her, and shit, even your voice is alluring, and it matches your face just right. dark, deep and low and thick with rasp, a texan accent to it that was impossible to miss. it was embarrassing for the blonde, just how fast her face heated up, that is, and she gave you a shy smile in response, along with a little awkward wave. “see somethin’ ya’like, baby?”

yes, you.

abby cleared her throat, nodding, trying so hard to ignore the way her stomach flips at the way that last word slipped off your lips. “uh, yeah. your stand is really cool,” abby said, a rosy blush covering her cheeks and nose as she inspected the soaps you had just set down on the counter. before you can respond to her compliment, she asks, “did you make these yourself?”

you nod to confirm, looking down at the soaps she was referring to. “sure did. handmade all day. the folks here quite like ‘em. sold out twice,” you said, leaning over the counter, eyes settled on the blonde girl before you. abby’s battling to ignore how nervous she feels at being in the presence of such a handsome woman, heavily aware of how much taller than her you are.

and she never meets girls who are taller than her.

abby takes one of the soaps into her hands. pine, her scent of choice in cologne, hair products, air freshener, candles, whatever it may be. she would marry the damn scent if she could. reading the label, she realized the scent of the little handmade bar of soap was a mix of pine and vanilla, and she lifted it to her nose to give it a smell, earning the blonde’s instant approval. “well, i can see why. this smells great,” abby commented.

“i’m glad’ya like it,” you chuckle as your tongue darts out to lick your lips, your eyes raking over the girl for the millionth time since she had walked up to your stand. you can’t help but be curious about her. unlike most of the girls you had met at the market thus far, she wasn’t throwing herself at your feet.

though you wouldn’t mind if she did.

“i’m abigail, by the way. abby,” abby said with that awkward grin of hers, putting her hand out for you to shake. abigail. jesus christ, she never introduced herself like that. you were making the poor girl so nervous she couldn't even think right. you take her hand into yours, kissing the back of it before telling her your own name, tipping your hat. shit, even your name made her heart skip a beat.

was there a damn thing about you that abby anderson wasn’t attracted to?

“it’s nice to meet you,” abby smiled, unable to tear her eyes away from you and all the products your stand had to offer. she walked over to a little shelf beside it, stocked with candles of all scents. “did you make these, too?”

“that i did, darlin’. use the same scents as i do the soaps, so if’ya like that pine one, it’s there,” you say. abby nods. you didn’t have to tell her twice. somehow, it only smells better to her when the scent of pine and vanilla fills her nose in the form of a candle. and, of course, because you made it. she sets the candle and soap onto your stand, timid as she slides them over to you, a small mumble of, “just these,” leaving her lips.

you take the candle into your hands, grabbing a piece of brown wrapping paper from the stack of it you had behind the stand. you put it down, setting the candle in the middle of the sheet of paper before wrapping it up and putting it into a little bag alongside the soap. abby would be drooling if her lips were parted, watching the way your muscles flex at even the smallest movements as you wrap the candle up for her.

you give abby a price, to which she takes out her wallet and hands you the bills, graciously telling you to keep the change. you smile at her, more than thankful for her kindness, but not needing the extra money. “that’s alright, baby. i’ll get’ya your change, though i appreciate the gesture,” you return, reaching behind you to fetch a few ones and coins. but not before abby cuts you off.

“n- no, really, i insist. you deserve it,” abby says a little too quickly. an angel this one was, that was for damn sure.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “well, aren’t you sweet. insist, huh?”

abby nods firmly, though the blush on her cheeks betrays the show of confidence. “yes, i insist. you’re going to be here all day, you’re selling awesome products, and you’re hot. it’s the least i could do,” she says, like the fact was common knowledge. you lean in just to tease her, raising an eyebrow.

“ya’think i’m hot, darlin’?”

abby’s eyes widen at how close you get to her face, and how suddenly aware she is of her own existence. she almost can’t hear you over the sound of her heart rattling in her ears, pumping in her chest as the musky scent of your cologne fills her nose. she tries and fails to not let her eyes wander down to your lips and fuck, her head was spinning, spiraling with the handsome cowgirl she could die happy now that she’d met.

you sure as hell don’t miss it.

“well, thank’ya kindly, darlin’. you’re mighty fine yourself,” you smirk, and abby’s head was spinning. how did people like you even exist in real life? you were right of of a western movie, the way you looked, the way you sounded, even your energy alone was enough to throw a city girl like abby for a loop. “but you’re damn right. fuck, sweatin’ like a damn sinner in church in this heat,” you say, taking a second to stretch as you do.

abby can’t help the way her cheeks burn at the simple act of you cussing. and she’d tear her eyes from you right now, if it weren’t for the way your flannel rises when you stretch, revealing the lower part of your torso. you make direct eye contact with her and shoot one of your signature smirks her way before speaking. “well, if you’re gonna be such a sweetheart, s’only fair i do a little somethin’ in return,” you say. you reach behind you to the little cooler that’s filled with all the dairy products you make on your farm, rummaging through it. “d’ya like strawberries?”

abby nodded, wondering what you were getting at. “i do.”

“alright, then,” you nod in return, pulling out one of your jugs of strawberry milk and sliding it across the counter towards her. “can’t have a pretty thing like you burnin’ up in this heat, now can we? promise you’ll like it.”

abby cursed the blush on her cheeks, hoping you’d think she was getting sunburnt instead. pretty. you think she’s fucking pretty. “i- i’m sure i will, but i don’t think the change i gave you covers this,” abby said, just about ready to reach into her wallet and give you every last bill in it. but you shake your head, taking her previous words.

“ah ah ah. i insist. alright?” you say, and there’s a no nonsense way about the words that leave your lips, like you won’t take no for an answer, so firm that it sends chills down abby’s spine. she pouts and she’s fucking adorable as she does it. and when she gives you a reluctant nod, you smile. “attagirl.”

jesus christ.

“i’m going to pay you back for this. somehow,” abby says, a hint of brattiness to her voice. you can’t say you don’t like it, especially when it’s accompanied with that cute pout of hers. you chuckle as she asks, “what do you want?”

“hm,” you pretend to think about it, putting your hands on your hips as you push your tongue into your cheek. abby’s trying and failing hard not to look at the sweat dripping down your tattooed arms. you make up your mind, then look down at her. “why don’t’cha come back tomorrow? late, when the market’s ‘bout to close. i’ll show’ya how to make it up to me,” you say with a wink.

abby’s heart skips a beat at your words. she doesn’t think she’s ever been more happy to hear a promise like that one. her smile is equal parts coy and shy as she responds to you. “i’ll be here.”

no matter how confident you look on the outside, butterflies are swarming ‘round your belly within. a pretty girl like this one, shy and sweet, generous and kind, was going to come back tomorrow to see you, no convincing needed. had you died and gone to heaven? you smile, blowing abby a little kiss. “alright, then. take care now, abigail,” you tease, just as she’s about to walk away. abby playfully rolls her eyes at you.

“abby.”

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ taglist! @aouiaa @plutolovesyou @soupycloud @xayn-xd

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rkiveinmarvel · 5 days

Text

upon a different life - james bucky barnes des. barnes never trusted you, not once. but upon a different life, he would. notes. angst/comfort, establishing relationship, slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers, i miss bucky, avengers being siblings (and weak for plot),mentions of violence,

hello! it's my bucky fic! i had a bucky fic back then but I deleted it anyway, this was supposed to be a one part but i got carried away, enjoy barnes knowing you! *i wrote this around 3am so, if i have some mistakes, i'm sorry!!*

(part i) (part ii) | w.c: 3.5k

James Buchanan Barnes is slowly getting used to in living with Avengers and the era he is in, in general, he enjoys the slowly yet steady step to forgive himself and earn forgiveness to those people around him as well familiarizing the more advanced world, but nightmares and remarks of his past action come and go; everyone notices it, especially his friend Steve Rogers, but despite this minor setback, he still move forward because it’s not every day, that you die in the 80s and woke up 75 years later.

In terms of forgiving, the sergeant doesn’t know if the genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist have forgiven him—it’s not a secret Stark gives the money and sponsor on the compound they live in but despite his hesitation to live with them, Stark still offered him—it might be a silent agreement with Rogers but somehow, Barnes hopes Stark acknowledges how sorry he was.

But among other things, he wishes he can finally get used to. He finds himself not getting used to you. Even the entire team knows how much James hates you; to you, it’s no secret: you’re his last handler afterall and if the tables are different, you would hate Barnes too. Before Zemo took control of Barnes as Winter Soldier, you were his last boss, a menace actually, you would let him be used. He gets used by someone, you get rich, a simple deal between HYDRA and you. But that changed, when the Winter Soldier regained his memory; with no leverage in making a deal with HYDRA, the Black Widow offered you a place to stay.

It was a nice place, really, a lot nicer than the one you lived in, except, maybe for the fact that you’re still under someone jurisdiction: while the sergeant is able to roam around the city, you keep staring at the wonderful electronic tag in your ankle: in your deduction, you believe that the Avengers are only keeping you alive because of what you know—it’s not even sympathy why the Black Widow offered you stay with them, it’s more of a business.

From the moment you receive glares from everyone in the room, you know damn well that this is just another business. So, it is indeed a surprise, when the A.I enters your room.

“Ha, did Stark send you to check on me again, Vision?” You asked as the artificial intelligence gave you a look. Despite the team’s lack of enthusiasm with you, Vision, Clint, and Thor are the only ones who seem to talk to you. You have talks with Natasha, Tony, and Bruce as well, but it is more of a business than a talk.

“No, I was wondering if you wish to join me, Clint, and Wanda to watch Dick Van Dyke, she seems very excited about it.”

“What makes you think she wants me to join you guys?” You asked hypothetically.

Vision nodded as he glanced at your electronic tag. “If it makes you feel better, they don’t really hate you that much. In my defense, I think you only did the things you have done because you want to survive.” You scoffed as you said that.

“Well, tell that to Sergeant Bar–” but Vision cut you off. “People won’t always use you. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you realize you’re more than just a HYDRA pawn.” You stared at him, as he continued. “At least, that’s what I observed with Sergeant Barnes.”

“Thanks, Vision.” You gave a bland smile, as he left your room. A part of you wants forgiveness, but for someone who learnt life in a hard way, you’re hesitating to give this one a try. Yet for once, a robot was more human than you.

A year after an endless discussion between the Avengers, they decided to remove the electronic tagging and let you roam freely, but still under their jurisdiction. Somehow, Stark and Banner acknowledge your knowledge while the rest give respect to your fighting ways and quick judgment; well, all of them are getting used to you. Well, maybe except for Bucky. Steve told you it takes time, but to your knowledge, it won’t take time because it won’t happen. You accepted the terms that Barnes will not and never forgive you, you don’t blame him though, mostly you blame yourself.

In this scene, you finally learn to adjust, not going out of your room if he was outside, not training–the same time as him, and definitely not talking to him; even a spare glance, felt like a struggling pain of unforgiven lingering. The team respected Barnes more than they respected you, but somehow, it felt like you finally belonged to something. Well, atleast, that’s what you thought.

Their mission to infiltrate HYDRA failed terribly, despite the information you gave them, they weren’t prepared and outnumbered. Despite their failure, they were able to take a hit on HYDRA’s camp, it’s not much but still affected HYDRA. As the quinjet landed on the hangar, the medical team supported those who were injured. A lot of them were, including those who sometimes get out without a scratch.

In the med bay: you saw Clint and Sam—they somehow, took a toll, as you walked further, you saw the entire team taking care of their small cuts, with them helping another, they were able to close the wounds, well, maybe except for the Winter Soldier—or as they call him the White Wolf. On the back of his right shoulder, he was bleeding badly, despite having all the needed things to tend his wounds around him, he sat on the bed feeling out of place, besides it’s only a shoulder wound.

Due to the lack of people in the med bay, you offered help in the team. As you finished to tend some of the team’s wounds including Rogers’ and Romanoff’s. Your eyes met a struggling Bucky Barnes, grasping his right shoulder with his metal arm. Your footsteps were slow as you walk towards him.

“...Do you need help?” He wanted to say no, everything part of him says no, but as he glanced that there’s no person who can help him in his injury, he nodded. Afterall, you’re also the one who patches him up whenever he gets injured in his missions back then.

You carefully clean his wound as you tend him, you wipe the dirt and the things visible that might infect the wound, as you try to start a talk. “Was it bad out there? In the mission, I mean..” He just let out a grunt, which you expected, but he replied with. “They have three more Super Soldiers and one enhanced, just like Wanda.”

You didn’t respond, just continued stitching his wound. As you finish, you put on some bandages as he asked. “Did you know?” Barnes asked.

“Did you know about the Super Soldiers?” He asked again, for a quick moment, you realized that he is still an assassin, you felt his anger and bloodlust. At that moment, you wish you didn’t work with HYDRA. In truth, you didn’t know where they were but you knew HYDRA didn’t stop making them. But your stuttering left the Sergeant furious even more.

“I–I..” That was the only thing you could say when you suddenly felt his metal hand around your neck, at other times this can be hot and daring, but at this time, you were damn sure that the Sergeant would be able to crack your neck: he could kill you. The team in the med bay immediately sat up.

“Buck, put her down.” You assumed it was Rogers who was talking to the Sergeant. As it was getting hard to breath, James starts to explain that you knew there were Super Soldiers, in that Rogers asked you.

“Did you actually know?” Barnes shook you, as you met the Captain’s eyes. “I did.” Before James finally kills, you continue. “I didn’t know they were stationed there.”

If this was a HYDRA facility, they would’ve shot you despite you telling the truth, Wanda nodded, a confirmation that you were telling the truth. Steve asked Bucky to let go of you, with an angered stare, he let go. As you try to catch your breath, you notice some of the bandage of Rogers came off. You reached your hand to help him but a metal hand covered your wrist.

“Stop pretending to be a good guy, we know you’re глупая игрушка of HYDRA.” He grabs your wrist tighter. “You’re not even part of the team.” That was the last straw, you pulled your wrist away, as you searched for someone to stand with you but all you saw was them looking away from you, even Vision. You nodded as you felt some tears sting. You never actually belonged in the team. Just like Barnes said, a глупая игрушка.

A stupid toy.

Stark spotted you, making tea in the middle of the night. “So, you’re the one that’s drinking tea.” His voice echoed in the empty kitchen. You nodded as you asked him if he wanted some, as he nodded. “Heard what happened.”

“Of course, you do.” Stark eyed you as you finally sat down and Stark rolled his eyes. “I forgave Terminator a while ago.” You looked at him.

“I know he took everything from me, but, I guess it’s just the way it is…Pepper is really good at convincing , I give her that, well, maybe because we–”

“Are pregnant…?” You asked, in which Stark immediately shook his head and chuckled. “Well, no, but, I just want peace, you know.”

“That’s a bit out of character.” You commented. “Ah, the secret service have their humor.” The billionaire chuckled. As he glanced at the stair towards the rooms. “You did not know about the soldiers but, the information you gave was really helpful. We can start with that.” As Stark stood up. He added.

“Oh, and next time, make sure you suit up. You can tag along in the mission if you want, secret service.” Stark walked away with a smug smirk. “You sure, they’ll allow me in the field, Mr. Stark?”

“Maybe not. But, we have a higher chance of winning if they don't know what they’re up against.” He said as he left. But, when the morning comes, there’s no trace of you—only the cup of tea you shared with Tony and a room filled with your stuff, as well as, a folder with all of HYDRA’s information and coordinates in sticky notes. As the team assembled, they wondered if you were stolen from them or you were actually planning to betray them a long time ago.

And there’s only one way to find out.

As the Avengers rode the quinjet, Stark drove peacefully as Romanoff shared her side. “Steve, if we do this and see her there, we can’t save them like we did back then.”

“We didn’t save her, Romanoff. We used her…” Steve added. “But, you guys cared for them too.” His eyes fall on Bucky. “Buck, I know this is—”

“It’s a mission. As long as we’re done. I don’t care what happens to them.” James added.

As they reach the base of HYDRA, with the coordinates in the folder, they immediately search for you, but to their mistake, they fall right into a trap. Not even their strongest and the witch was able to see the trap, as they sat and chained in chairs, Natasha cracked a joke.

“This is probably their revenge.” In which none of them find them funny. Especially the guy with a metal arm. As the time passes with the endless blabbering of the man on the computer, lights and warning signs alarmed the area: as the Avengers look for an escape. It was an unfamiliar site, even for Bucky, all of the soldiers on HYDRA are getting deployed, what could possibly be the reason? As the chain, holding the Avengers finally loose, they stood up immediately, they ran in the door meeting you.

“ROGERS?!” You asked breathlessly. They were all confused but much more concerned about the blood painting your entire body. “Oh, it’s not mine.” You said in a smile. “We have to run, quinjet is outside the building.” As the team sprinted outside, surprise to see the number of bodies you took down.

“You took them all down?” Natasha asked as the quinjet was finally visible. “Ah, yeah. I was raised by them so, nevermind, we have to go.”

It was going so well, but in the escape, a lot of missiles were aimed at the quinjet, as you, Sam, Tony, Wanda, and Sergeant Barnes fought the trailing jet in the back of quinjet, James rode a jet that is about to crash with another, he dodged the explosion but fell unconscious. Without thinking, you jumped out of the quinjet to save his unconscious body, hoping it’s water underneath all the chaos.

As the cold temperature of water hit you, you swam to get the sergeant’s body. People in quinjet knew what happened, but in the height of the situation, they had no choice but to continue to flee; hope to save the sergeant and you, tomorrow.

The sergeant woke up in a bed made of leaves and an open night-sky. As he familiarize with his surroundings, he saw the heat radiating from a bonfire and you sitting by the shore. It was as if you sensed him.

“You’re finally awake.” You said as you walked towards him; he immediately tensed up. “Oh, right.” you placed the sugarcane on the sand as you sat down. “Tony would probably search for us tomorrow, once the sky is cleared.” You added but he is still weary of your presence.

“What’re you playing at?” He asked, as you looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You being a goody-two-shoes, you know, none of us trust you.” He added finally, grabbing the sugar cane munching it. “And now, you leaving and suddenly appearing at the HYDRA facility, makes you more of a traitor than a help to us, so, what’s really your play?”

“...I want to help—”

“You have a funny way of showing it…” He grumbled as you replied. When you hear him grumble, you grab a swiss knife in your pocket, as you did when he was on guard but then, you place it on the sand and look at him. “I wasn’t there because I wish to betray anyone, I was there because…..”

You sighed and looked at him. “I wanted to apologize to you. What I did in those years is unforgivable, hell, even I would be angry if I was in your position. I wanted to apologize to you and your family, the one you grew up with. I want to see if HYDRA knows about them, in that way, I can apologize for manipulating Winnifred’s only son and Rebecca’s only brother.”

Bucky stared at you. “But who am I kidding, it is full of shit..I just really hoped because—I finally felt like I was part of a team. It’s a bit much, right? I was ahead of myself.” You chuckled. As you stare at the sea, you continue. “The swiss knife will be there, do whatever you want with it. Whether you used it for survival or against me, it’s up to you.” You smiled at Bucky.

“This probably will make you hate me even more but it truly means everything, I am really sorry, Bucky.”

That was the first time he heard you mutter his name. His first time seeing you smile. His first time hearing you say sorry; his first time seeing you. As the night grew deeper, you fell asleep, except for the guy with a metal arm, he fidgeted with the swiss knife and kept glancing at you. He has you, he can kill you, revenge. With a lot of contemplation; balancing his morals, he stood up, gripping the swiss knife tightly and went to your sleeping body.

He was really thankful that you were asleep.

You watch from upstairs as you see the God of Thunder, the White Wolf, and Captain America struggle with their new phone given by Stark.

“10 Bucks says Barnes will break it.” Sam told you as he stood watching the three as well. “20 Bucks says Odinson will be the one who will break it.” You added; to anyone’s surprise, it was Steve who made the screen crack.

“Dammit.” Sam muttered as you noticed his suit. “Got a date or something?” Sam just nodded and said something about meeting his sister in the bank, as he left, you called Barnes out. “Sergeant, we’re losing daylight, let’s go.” You said as he ran upstairs, leaving the compound as well, with you next to him.

He grips the swiss knife tightly, as he walks to your unconscious body as he shakes you awake. “Hey.” he muttered slowly: “Did you find them? Rebecca, I mean…” In your state, you would have said something random but as you met his eyes, he was just pleading as you nodded, he retracted the knife and handed it to you.

“Go say your apologies to them then. Bring me to them.” In that he awkwardly smiled but was sincere. “Okay.” As he went to his side on the sand, he then sighed, “It means everything, Thanks for saying that.” With a soft heart, you slept soundly and Barnes did too as the sand felt more like the best bed in town.

As you drive, Barnes asks how you find his family. “It was more of how HYDRA hid it, what surprised me is that—they don’t pick dead bodies up in the 40s?” In that, Bucky eyed you. “What do you mean? I fell of the—”

“If I was like one of the bosses, I would’ve.” Bucky sighed. “It was war back then, it was better to leave them, I guess.” You sighed and acknowledged his explanation. As you two reach Brooklyn, his eyes wander. “First time back in Brooklyn?” he nodded as he explained how different times were. He wasn’t talkative much, but you saw how his eyes lit up when the corners of Brooklyn hit him home. As we reach the cemetery, you glance at the grave.

“This is Rebecca’s and your Mom’s. I couldn’t find anything on your father, I’m sorry.” As Barnes walked out the car with flowers in his hand, you watched him but then he opened your door, “Aren’t you going to apologize to them too?” You smiled and got out of the car, “I did say that.”

We stayed there for a few minutes, as Bucky walked to get something in the car, he heard your voice talking to them as if they were still alive, it felt new to him, this side of you, it’s more warmer than before. He walks cautiously as he slowly hears a bit of your words. “Rebecca and Mrs. Barnes you have an amazing brother and a son.”

Despite everything and hate lurking in his chest towards you, his painful experience, he was willing to give this forgiveness a shot, because he was a human and not a machine.

As the two of you drove back to the compound, the silence was now replaced with a calmer one, which Bucky glanced at you. “Something wrong?” He asked you.

“No, it’s just, I don’t know what we should talk about, I’m still getting used to this too. Food that is warm, going to places that don't require guards, a bit warmer home, and bright home, and a house full of people, still getting used to it, I guess.” You explained.

“Well, me and you are on the same boat.” He added assuring you. The ride back was more of a relaxed one, as you heard Bucky’s stomach growl. “We should eat something.” Before he could protest, you parked the car and you two went inside a diner.

As you two sat, you kept glancing at the machine on the edge of the table, as you saw Bucky eyeing it as well. “What is it?” You asked him, as he cleared his throat. “A Jukebox.” but your lack of response made him look at you. “You don’t know what—”

You shook your head. “Well, with HYDRA raising me I only know the static radio.” You explained, looking away awkwardly. “Oh, it’s a music box, like a vinyl but you need a quarter to play a song.” He explained as you nodded. “I have a quarter.” As you give him the quarter, he signals you to press a button to play music. As you two eat a meal in the diner: the low volume of Chet Baker’s I Never Been In Love Before plays, it is safe to say that two people felt more human than before and a lingering warm feeling in their chest. Safe to say, they’ve never been in love before.

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3

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libraryofgage · 10 months

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Good Vibrations Three

One | Two

I usually try to throw out updates weekly but I got possessed by the muse for Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins and, like, finished the main chapters for that in a daze hfjdk I still need to write the two epilogues, but needed a little break, so here we are!

Part three has Eddie confirming his suspicions, like two seconds of angst that is immediately thrown out the window, and a little flirting UwU

I hope you enjoy! As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ^_^

----

Something hits Steve in the back of the head. He'd be upset if not for the fact that he's facing away from Dustin and gave the kid paper for the express purpose of throwing if he needs Steve's attention. After much trial and error, the system finally works for them.

Steve sets down the plate he was washing (the aftermath of Dustin asking for grilled cheese sandwiches and annoying Steve until he caved) and turns, drying his hands on a dish towel. "What's up?"

Dustin's chest and arms are sprawled across the table, looking for all intents and purposes that he'd collapsed from sheer boredom or frustration. When Steve speaks, though, he sits up straight so Steve can see his mouth properly. "Can you pick me up tomorrow?"

"I thought your mom was."

"She told me this morning that she got saddled with a last minute thing."

Steve frowns, slowly parsing through Dustin's mouth movement and trying to find the shape of words. He doesn't get all of them, but he gets enough to understand the problem. "Oh," he says, "yeah, sure. Right after school?"

Dustin shakes his head, pushing his biology homework away so he can lean forward. "Hellfire is tomorrow. Eddie says it's gonna be in the math classroom. Can you meet me there at 4:30?"

Somehow, Steve immediately recognizes Eddie's name. Unsurprisingly, it makes him think of the guy, and his mind happily offers up the memory of Eddie laughing on stage. Steve struggles to push the memory aside, at least moving it to a corner until he can properly reminisce later.

"Which math room?" Steve asks, hoping Dustin doesn't notice a longer than normal delay in his response.

He doesn't, if his relieved and happy grin is anything to go by. "213," Dustin says. He then pauses, as if suddenly thinking of something. "Also, uh, maybe wait in the next hall or something. Don't let Eddie see you."

"Why can't Eddie see me?" he asks. Has Eddie been complaining about Steve lately? Has Dustin spent the past week listening to Eddie insult or make fun of Steve for...something he did at the Hideout? Did he not act normal enough?

Well, it's probably not that last one. Robin is great at elbowing Steve when someone is talking to him. She's saved him from numerous awkward situations with that move. It's almost worth the bruise he'll inevitably get from her sharp elbow.

"He won't, like, shut up about you," Dustin says, his nose wrinkling some in disgust and distorting the shape of his mouth. He waits until his expression is under control to add, "He can't get over you attending his gig or something. Keeps saying it's weird that "King Steve" likes metal."

"Oh."

Steve feels his shoulders grow heavy, a weight pressing down on him. He can't hear how Dustin is saying the words, and Dustin's expression isn't animated enough for Steve to glean any kind of tone. But experience has taught Steve that Eddie is probably complaining, even if Dustin isn't saying it outright.

Now that he's thinking about it, it probably was weird for Steve to just show up to a heavy metal gig. He's never shown any sign of liking the genre to others before. Then again, he's pretty skilled at passing for completely "normal" to other people. That results in him being King Steve, though, and that version of him might be all that Eddie can see, which would make his appearance at the Hideout pretty fucking awkward, huh?

Steve is so lost in his thoughts and the feeling of remorse and embarrassment and frustration that he almost misses how Dustin rolls his eyes, his shoulders jerking with a scoff. He pays attention just in time to watch as Dustin says, "Yeah, so if he sees you, he'll probably grill you on your favorite bands or something. He's, like, obsessed with figuring out all the other freak things about you. His words, by the way."

It's a lot all at once, and Steve ends up asking Dustin to repeat himself twice before he can fully comprehend everything. Despite the slightly annoyed look, Dustin doesn't complain. When he finally understands each word, that weight lifts from Steve's shoulders, the sudden emotional whiplash making him feel a little floaty.

"That's why he can't see me?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at Dustin and leaning back against the sink.

"Yeah, it'll take forever. It's like when Mom runs into a friend and just stands there talking for a whole hour," Dustin complains, sprawling himself across the table once more when he's done speaking.

Steve snorts and leans over, ruffling his hair and jerking his hand back before Dustin can smack it. "I promise we wouldn't talk for an hour, but I'm not going to avoid Eddie. If he sees me, he sees me."

Dustin doesn't need to know that a small part of Steve really hopes Eddie sees him, deafness and all. And maybe he'll even like what he sees.

----

Eddie Munson is not stupid.

Well, his grades and teachers would beg to differ, so he'll rephrase that.

Eddie Munson is a fantastic DM, which means he regularly takes a big plot twist and sprinkles hints of it throughout each session of a campaign. Doing this means being able to put those puzzle pieces back together, too, and ensuring they lead up to the logical plot twist. So, Eddie's brain is great at seeing some puzzle pieces scattered around and putting them together to make a complete picture, and he's definitely been seeing some puzzle pieces.

Like Steve Harrington never looking over when Eddie first speaks to him. And the way Steve stares at his mouth, his brows slightly furrowed like he's trying to decode something (Eddie would love for this puzzle piece to belong to a "Steve Harrington wants to kiss Eddie Munson" big picture, but he's not delusional). And how Steve needs to be nudged or needs to see someone before realizing they're close to him. And how he didn't seem to understand Eddie's words until he looked down at a notebook Robin had scribbled in.

And that's not even counting the stuff Eddie Munson noticed about Steve in high school. Steve Harrington walked through the halls like someone was hunting him, his shoulders tense and his eyes always flitting around from person to person, like he was scared of someone sneaking up on him. He always seemed to ignore people when they called out to him, and Eddie had once dismissed it as him being an asshole. Steve never actually paid attention in class, either; he'd spend the whole time doodling in his notebook or zoning out while staring at the wall. He didn't even look up when the teacher called on him, and eventually the teachers stopped trying.

So, yeah, Eddie has slowly started piecing the puzzle together, resulting in a picture that he never would have linked to Steve Harrington, of all people. But it's the logical conclusion. It's the brilliant plot twist that makes so much sense when you review previous campaign sessions.

He just needs to test it, to see if he's actually right or if he needs to review the pieces once more.

Eddie's chance comes after Hellfire Club on Wednesday. Their session had finished a little earlier, if only because the players had gotten through Eddie's planned journey faster than intended. The next part couldn't be stopped five minutes in, so Eddie had called it a day and gone to the bathroom while the others talked about their character progression.

In the few minutes it took for him to piss, Steve had strolled into the school and started waiting in the hallway next to the math room. He's leaning against the wall, head tilted down as he reads a small book, his lips turned down into a slight frown as he concentrates.

This is the scene Eddie sees when he rounds the corner, and before he can really think about it, he scurries back to remain out of view. He's not scared of Steve Harrington. He just knows this is the best chance he's got to test his theory. Eddie glances around the corner, watching as Steve turns the page of his book, and he suddenly wants to know what has captured his attention so strongly.

Eddie takes a deep breath and slides around the corner again, sticking close to the wall to remain out of sight. "Hey, Harrington," he says, his volume normal and easy to hear.

Steve doesn't react. He doesn't even twitch or give any indication that he heard Eddie and simply decided to ignore him.

"Haaariiiiingtooonnn," Eddie calls, a little louder and drawing the word out.

Still nothing. Well. Steve frowns a little deeper, turns the page back, and rereads whatever part has tripped him up.

"Steve, you motherfucker," Eddie says, the same volume as before, and this time trying something that might anger him. "Your hair looks ugly," he adds. It's a lie, of course. Steve's hair looks fantastic, and Eddie wants to run his fingers through it.

No reaction, and Eddie is starting to feel brave. He takes a few steps closer, still hugging the wall. "Oh, Stevie," he says, getting a slight grin, "big boy, sweetheart, darling, pretty thing." The endearments easily fall from his lips, hanging in the air with Steve none the wiser.

So. Eddie thinks it's safe to say his theory is correct: Steve Harrington can't hear. And Eddie is suddenly, achingly curious to know more. He wants to see how Steve, with his perfect hair and his stupid little moles and his blinding grin, navigates the world when he can't even hear it. He wants to know how Steve experiences music; he wants to know how many other people know; he wants to know if Steve ever gets frustrated and what he gets frustrated about; he wants to know if Steve's other senses are stronger to balance out his lack of hearing.

He wants to know everything.

Eddie strolls over, standing next to Steve and tapping his shoulder. He feels a little bad when Steve jerks in surprise, sliding back a few steps and looking at Eddie with wide eyes. "Don't do that!" Steve says, his gaze flitting around the hall before he forces himself to calm down and look at Eddie.

"Sorry," Eddie says, hoping his expression tells Steve just how much he means it. "You didn't look up when I called you."

Steve blinks, his lips twitching into an almost wry smile. "I, uh, was really absorbed," he says after a moment, idly holding up his book so Eddie can see "The Bicentennial Man" by Isaac Asimov on the cover.

"Heavy reading," Eddie says, trying to remember if he'd ever seen Steve read science fiction in high school.

Steve shrugs, glancing at the cover with a slight frown. "Dustin and Will were talking about it a few days ago. They seemed to like it. Figured I'd see what the fuss was about," he explains.

"Is it worth the fuss?" Eddie asks.

But Steve doesn't answer because he's still looking at the cover. A few more seconds pass before he sighs and looks up at Eddie. "It's kind of confusing," he admits.

And Eddie can't help himself. He wants the satisfaction of truly knowing he was right, and he wants Steve to know that he knows what's up. So, he asks, "Are you deaf?"

-----

Steve tenses, his shoulders hiking up, and he holds the book closer to his chest like it will somehow shield him. "What....how did you know?" he asks, deciding he doesn't need to try bluffing. Eddie's voice wasn't hesitant. He already knows the answer.

"Just noticed things," Eddie says, shrugging as he steps closer to Steve and grins.

The thing is, Steve hasn't tried hiding his deafness lately. Sure, he would have rather died in high school before letting someone discover he couldn't hear, but now? Now he doesn't really care. He's faced literal monsters; someone just innocently asking if he's deaf shouldn't result in the spike of anxiety that shoots down his spine.

At least, Steve thought he wouldn't care. Apparently, his body didn't get the memo, and years of habit had taken over, putting Steve on the immediate defensive. He clenches his jaw, forces his shoulders to relax, and reminds himself of Dustin's whole "Eddie seems weirdly obsessed with you" comment from the day before.

"Is that a problem or something?" Steve asks, relaxing his shoulder and forcing himself to stay in place.

Eddie pauses, frowning like he hadn't expected Steve to ask him that. "No," he says, the word a little drawn out based on how long his lips linger on the "o" shape. "How long?"

Okay. Steve can handle this. He can already see Eddie's questions following the same path as Robin's and Dustin's when they first learned he was deaf. "I started losing my hearing in elementary school. It was pretty much gone by high school," he explains.

Of all people, Eddie should be the most understanding, right? He probably isn't deaf, but Steve's deafness is something that makes him a freak. Sure, it wasn't super obvious in high school, but it still has to count for something, right? It has to help erase the King Steve persona from Eddie's brain, right?

"That explains a lot," Eddie says, tilting his head slightly and narrowing his eyes like he's trying to filter his memories of Steve through this new lens. "You don't have hearing aids?"

"I, uh, don't usually wear them in public."

"Why not?"

Steve opens his mouth to answer but stops himself. Saying he didn't want people to know in high school would feel shallow, yes, but it would be true. Besides still needing to actually get new ones, he doesn't have much of an excuse for not wearing them now. He frowns slightly, gripping the book in his hand a little tighter. It must make some kind of sound because Eddie's eyes flick down to it before looking back up.

"I didn't want people to know in high school," he finally says, rubbing his thumb over the book's cover in an attempt to expel some of the nervous energy he feels. "If people knew, especially teachers, my grades and stuff would've been blamed on, you know, my deafness. And then my parents would've put me into a special school for others who are deaf or hard of hearing. I didn't really want to get transferred like that, especially in the middle of high school."

"What about now, Stevie? You're not exactly in high school anymore," Eddie says. And did Steve read his lips right? That was his name in the middle, he doesn't doubt that, but...was it changed? There was an extra movement at the end, Eddie's bottom lip pulling back slightly like a long E was thrown in there.

It's not like he can ask, so he shoves the thought away, thinking instead of his crushed and useless hearing aids. His shoulders slump a little at the thought. "My hearing aids are broken, but I don't have enough for new ones yet."

Eddie's eyes narrow again, and he leans a little closer. "Aren't your parents, like, stupidly rich? I mean, I've been to your parties, Harrington, it's not a small house you've got there. Just ask Mommy and Daddy to buy you some new ones," he says.

Steve blinks, trying to grasp the words while also processing just how strongly Eddie's "cigarette smoke-weed-woodsy outdoor" smell overwhelms him. It's not bad (maybe it should be? Steve doesn't think he's ever liked these smells before), but it makes Steve's head feel fuzzy and slow, like he's trying to wade through cotton balls. He blinks again, pushing through the daze to say, "Can you repeat that? You, uh, you spoke too fast."

The smell recedes as Eddie leans back, his lips quirking up into a smile that's more...indulgent than it is mean. "Your parents are rich. Ask them to buy you new ones," Eddie says.

Okay, that's...significantly less words than Eddie said before. Steve frowns slightly, frustration budding in his chest because he wants to know what Eddie said, not what he asked. He feels like he's being left out of a conversation he's actively participating in, and he has to swallow back his immediate, frustration-motivated response.

Eddie doesn't know, he's likely never spoken to a deaf person before. Steve should give him the benefit of the doubt and a little leeway, right? Honestly, Steve is fucking tired of giving people the benefit of the doubt and leeway, but what else is he supposed to do? Blow up? It would be nice in the moment, sure, but the aftermath? The inevitable apology and the potential indignation from the other person? That sounds fucking exhausting. He'd rather complain to Robin later.

"I want to buy my own," Steve says, knowing his sudden shift in demeanor has been noticed by the confused furrow of Eddie's brow.

Before he can say more, Eddie reaches forward, grabbing the sleeves of Steve's sweatshirt. Based on his surprised expression, it was an impulsive move, but Eddie doesn't let go. He just swallows (Steve should not be staring at Eddie's throat like this) and looks at him. "What's wrong?" he asks, and his face is so expressive that Steve doesn't need to hear his tone to know he genuinely cares and wants to know.

Without thinking, Steve blurts out, "I asked what you said. You just repeated what you asked. I want to know everything you said. Every word. I feel like...like you're trying to dumb things down for me, like you don't think I can actually, I don't know, understand everything. I'm deaf, not stupid."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly. "Oh," he says, licking his lips nervously before nodding. "Okay, yeah, it was kind of mean, though," he admits.

"That's worse, actually," Steve says, frowning and gripping the book tightly once more. "I'll just feel like you're mocking me, or getting off on making fun of me when I don't know. Just repeat yourself, word for word."

And Eddie does. He seems uncomfortable doing so, but he speaks a little slower and makes sure Steve can understand each word this go-around. At the end, he adds, "Like I said, kind of mean. Sorry."

Steve watches Eddie for a few seconds before grinning. "It's fine, Eddie," he says, suddenly realizing how close Eddie has gotten and how Eddie is still holding onto his sleeve. And then, to make sure Eddie knows it's okay, he puts on what Robin calls his Bitch Voice and adds, "Besides, Mommy and Daddy don't need to know I've broken another pair. I'd like to live to see next year."

Eddie blinks when he hears the Bitch Voice and perks up slightly, a grin tugging at his lips and his hold on Steve's sleeve tightening slightly. The awkward moment seems to have passed, and Eddie confirms that by asking, "So, what do you really like about heavy metal?"

"I can feel it. Literally. Heavy metal has stronger vibrations, so I can experience it more easily. I don't really know how the words are sung, but I can feel the beat," Steve explains.

"Then, what did you think of our set?" Eddie asks.

He looks a little nervous, and something in Steve settles, relaxing into place. "Like I said, it was great. Especially your song at the end. I haven't really felt a song like that before. Does your band have more original stuff?" he asks. Maybe he can convince Eddie to record some of their songs so Steve can listen to them. Or, even better, just play only their songs at their next gig.

"Of course we do," Eddie says, standing a little straighter and grinning a little wider and looking at Steve like he's put the stars in the sky. "I'll play them for you next time, sweetheart."

Steve blinks at the word he definitely understood at the very end. Before he can ask about it, though, Eddie glances behind Steve and quickly lets go of his sleeve. Not two seconds later, Dustin shoves himself between Eddie and Steve, looking up at him with an eager smile and bright eyes and Steve has the worst feeling.

"Steve! Can we have a movie night at your place?" he asks as the rest of the kids filter in, pushing Eddie further and further back.

"Sure, but you have to call your parents and tell them when we get to my place," Steve says, incredibly grateful he can't hear when Eddie winces at the cheer that comes from the kids.

And then the kids are pushing him down the hall, undoubtedly arguing with each other about what movie to watch first and not giving Steve a chance to say goodbye, or ask if Eddie was serious about playing for him, or ask if Eddie had meant to call him sweetheart or if that was just, somehow, a mistake.

-----

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

Please follow the tag "good vibrations Steddie" or put on notifications for my blog to see when new parts are posted :D)

@hallucinatedjosten, @queenie-ofthe-void, @r0binscript, @jewellthebooknerd, @paintgonewrong, @vacantwatchers, @newagemyth, @gutterflower77, @just-a-tiny-void, @littlebluejane

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#steddie #steddie fic #good vibrations steddie #steddie fluff #deaf steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #steve harrington #stranger things #my writing

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

Don't You Want Me, Baby | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It was like a fairytale, the way you stole Bradley's heart with your gorgeous face, retro denim jacket, and karaoke skills. But when you disappear into the night, leaving only one small trinket behind, he's left wondering if he didn't just dream you up.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing and karaoke

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley's favorite thing about '80s throwback nights at the Hard Deck was seeing how his friends dressed for it. Nat usually went with neon spandex. Bob had a vintage Nintendo tee shirt. Jake found a windbreaker and matching pants at a thrift store. Even Penny got in on things by wearing a hideous blazer with enormous shoulder pads.

But Bradley just wore what he always did: one of his dad's tropical print shirts from circa 1983, his snug Levi's, and his slick mustache.

When he arrived at the Hard Deck, he realized that his least favorite part of this kind of night was the fact that he was always the odd man out now. He'd been single for such a long time, and it didn't usually bother him. But the way Javy had his arm around Nat, and the way Bob's girlfriend was making him blush... well, Bradley was starting to feel like he was missing out.

Nat handed him a beer as soon as he strolled up to the bar. "I can't decide if it's funny or sad that you don't even have to try," she told him, eyeing him up and down.

"Says the woman wearing a neon pink jumpsuit? What even is that thing?" he asked, gesturing to her outfit. Frankly, it was scary, but Javy seemed to like it as he kissed Nat and whispered in her ear before he walked away, turning to look at her several times.

She rolled her eyes and told him, "It's '80s workout attire! I'm going to sing the song Physical for karaoke, and I thought it would be fun to match the theme. You, on the other hand, wore the same thing the other day when we went out for pizza. You live in the '80s my friend."

"Whatever," Bradley grunted, sipping his beer.

"Rooster, did you sign up for a song yet?" Fanboy asked him, jerking his thumb to the karaoke setup in the corner.

Just as he was about to reply, Nat smirked at him. "How about I pick a song for you?"

Bradley just shrugged. "Sure." He liked singing. He was pretty good at it. And with tonight's theme, he'd know all the lyrics even without the video prompt. But he didn't like the smug look on his friend's face as she strolled away in her hideous pink outfit.

He sipped his beer. There were a lot of people here tonight that he'd never seen before. It was usually the same Naval officer crowd every weekend, so this was interesting. And there were a lot of cute girls with their hair all teased and hair sprayed wearing things that made Bradley smile.

Then his eyes caught on a denim jacket and a mini skirt on the cutest girl he had seen in a very long time. "Oh," Bradley gasped, finishing the last of his beer and setting the empty bottle down on the counter. You turned to laugh at your friend who was behind you, but your eyes caught on Bradley's, and he started stumbling through the crowd in your direction.

Then the DJ in charge of karaoke night called up the first singer, and the crowd closed in on the stage. "Shit," Bradley muttered. He lost sight of you amongst the too bright neon strobe lights. The song Sunglasses at Night started blaring, and Bradley couldn't find his friends either. The more he tried to shove through the crowd, the more dirty looks he got.

Two more singers performed terrible renditions of songs that Bradley used to like until he heard them here. He figured you must have left, because he couldn't see you anywhere. With a sigh, he leaned against the back wall. And then Nat was there, pressing another beer into his hand.

"Why do you look so pissy?" she asked over the music.

He just shrugged and rolled his eyes at himself. "It's so dumb. But I saw the cutest girl, and then she vanished...."

There you were, not far from the DJ booth. You were dancing along to someone butchering Billie Jean. Bradley could barely see you through the crowd as he smacked Nat's arm. "It's her. Denim jacket. Little skirt. Fucking gorgeous face."

"Go talk to her," Nat told him with a grin that made him a bit nervous.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" he asked, looking for the best way to get over to you. The way you were dancing and laughing had Bradley smiling as he squeezed past Bob.

When you spun in a slow circle with your friends, you froze, eyes meeting Bradley's again. This time you bit your lip and waved to him.

Bradley laughed and mouthed, "I'm coming." He watched as you pressed your lips together and ducked your face down.

"Hurry up!" you called when the song ended.

Bradley was about to start throwing elbows to get as close to you as possible. Then he heard his name.

"Rooster is up next! Where's Rooster?" called the DJ.

Bradley let his head tip back as he groaned. He waved to the DJ and then winked at you. "Sorry," he mouthed as he smiled at you.

You smiled and shrugged and that's when the DJ announced, "Rooster is singing that iconic song from Dirty Dancing, I've Had The Time of My Life."

He turned to glare at Nat where she stood against the back wall. "You picked a duet, you jerk! I can't sing that alone!"

But his attention snapped away from Nat when he felt your hand on his arm. You had managed to close the distance to him, and Bradley met your eyes as you let your fingers glide down his arm until they met his hand.

"I'll sing with you, Rooster."

Bradley laced his fingers with yours, and you led him up to the stage as the bar was filled with applause. Bradley took the microphone from the DJ. You and he were going to have to share it, and he didn't mind that one bit.

"Ready?" Bradley asked you, keeping his flingers linked with yours.

"Let's do it."

Bradley nodded, signaling they were ready to sing, and when the music started, you smiled up at him. He missed the first few words as his heart pounded, scrambling to pick up the lyrics as you giggled.

Now I've had the time of my life. No, I've never felt like this before. Yes, I swear it's the truth, and I owe it all to you.

Then when it was your turn, Bradley was hypnotized by your voice. He could come up with about a hundred more duets he was dying to sing with you. Either here at the bar, or maybe back at his place. Maybe you'd let him have your number.

He missed his next line again, completely distracted by you biting your lip and holding the microphone for him. "Shit," he said with a laugh, finally getting back on track again. But you seemed to know you were the reason he was distracted, and he could tell he was blushing.

And when it was time to sing together, your voice blended perfectly with his.

So we take each other's hand, 'cause we seem to understand the urgency.

And then you started to dance with him a little bit, just a sway of your hips, but Bradley moved along with you. It was perfect, the way you shared the microphone with him. The way your smile made the song even better. The way you laughed at the end when Bradley's face was close to yours and the room erupted in loud applause.

"Thanks for bailing me out," he told you as he handed over the microphone.

"You're welcome, Rooster," you told him with a smile that made him want to taste your lips. Then you were slipping your hand free from his as your friends called you over. You glanced at him over your shoulder, and Bradley turned back to the DJ while another singer took the stage.

"I need you to let me sing again," Bradley told him.

"One song per person, sorry."

Bradley rolled his eyes and pulled fifty bucks out of his wallet. "One more song? Right after this one?"

And then, just like that, Bradley was signed up. When he turned your way, you were already looking at him, challenging him to make a move.

"Excuse me," he said, encroaching on your friend group and holding out his hand for you to take. "But, my friend accidentally signed me up for another duet. Think you can help me out again?"

You slipped your hand into his and smirked. "Really? It looked like you signed yourself up this time."

He shook his head and pulled you closer to him. "Nah. Just a trick of the lighting, I think. It was definitely my friend."

Your laughter had him reaching his free hand gently around your waist, tucking it inside your denim jacket.

"That's a cute mustache," you told him, reaching up to touch his lip. "Did you grow it just for tonight?"

Bradley shook his head. "It's a permanent fixture."

"Oh, even better."

Bradley was thinking about it. He was going to do it. He was inching closer, ready to kiss you, when the DJ called his name again. "Rooster, you're up for an encore!"

The room erupted in more cheers as Bradley led you up to the stage, hand still at your waist.

"Which song is it?" you asked over the applause, your lips next to his ear.

His smile grew as he promised, "You'll know it."

Then Don't You Want Me started playing, and you laughed as Bradley danced around on the stage, singing just to you until the chorus when you joined him. Your perfect, smiling lips were so close to his as you both sang "Don't you want me, baby! Don't you want me, ohhh!" together.

And then he let you have the microphone for your part, and your voice sounded even better than the original song. He let his voice blend with yours again and again, but then too soon, the song was ending. He briefly wondered if he could get away with bribing the DJ for just one more song with you.

He had the microphone in his hand, about to check if he had more cash in his wallet, when you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips. Right in the middle of the stage. Right in the middle of the applause and the neon lights and the DJ introducing Nat as the next singer.

Your lips tasted as sweet as you looked, and Bradley almost dropped the microphone trying to get his arms around you as well. You kissed his lips softly and then laughed before you let your lips skim over his mustache.

"I had fun, Rooster," you whispered over all the commotion as you stepped off the stage with Bradley in tow. When Nat snatched the microphone out of his hand with a wink, you took his hand in both of yours.

"Think they'll let us sing another song together?" he asked, watching the smile on your lips as you took your denim hair scrunchie off your own wrist and pushed it over his hand. He looked down at his left wrist, now adorned with it. "What's this for?" he asked with what he was sure was a dopey grin.

"Keep it, Rooster," you said, but suddenly your friends were there, slowly pulling you away from him.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his heart lurching as he ran his fingers over your scrunchie and tried to follow you. But the crowd was closing in on him, everyone going wild for Nat singing Physical. "I don't even know your name!"

You called out to him as you blew a kiss, but he couldn't hear you. He shoved Javy out of the way, trying to get to you again. As the crowd thinned near the exit, Bradley ran outside after you. But you were gone. There was no sign of you or your friends. All that was left was your scrunchie, the songs stuck in his head, and the feel of your lips on his.

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

"I imagined her," Bradley said for the sixth time at work on Monday. "She was perfect, but she wasn't even real." He was stretched out on the couch in the aviators' lounge with your scrunchie in his hand and a pout on his face.

"She was real, Rooster," Nat told him with an eye roll. "We all saw her. We all saw her kiss you before she left. Maybe it was your choice of song? Maybe she didn't want you, baby?" she asked with a devilish smirk.

Bradley launched the scrunchie at his friend's face, making her squeal. But then he was up off the couch immediately, running to collect his precious souvenir from the ground before anything happened to it. He balled it up in his hand and tucked it into the pocket of his flight suit.

"It would be impossible to find her again. I don't even know her name," he mumbled, kicking his foot along the floor as he sighed. "She was just..." He was thinking about your voice as you sang and your pretty face and your vintage denim jacket. "Perfect."

Nat took a step closer and patted him on the chest. "There has to be some way... Oh!"

"What?" Bradley asked, meeting her bright eyes with his hopeful ones.

"There would have to be other '80s karaoke nights around San Diego," she said quickly, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Bradley's heart filled with hope as she said, "We could go to them, and maybe she'll be there."

"Nat. You're a genius."

When Friday night rolled around, Bradley picked Nat up in her hot pink spandex, and they drove to a bar in Oceanside where a throwback night was in full swing.

"See her anywhere?" Nat called over the loud music.

Just then someone started singing Don't You Want Me. Bradley's heart leapt. But it was a guy with a terrible voice and a girl who wasn't you.

"No," Bradley groaned, his heart full of frustration. "She's not here," he confirmed after walking through the entire bar.

And the following night, Bradley and Nat went to a bar in Balboa Park, ready to search for you again. They walked into a room full of people dancing around and singing to a Bon Jovi cover band.

After looking everywhere, taking his time to search the crowd, a dejected Bradley shook his head at Nat, and she followed him back outside to the Bronco.

The following Friday was no better as they hit up a club downtown. After they had no luck there, Nat told him about another karaoke night in Pacific Beach.

"This is it, Nat. This is the last one," Bradley told her, glancing at your scrunchie on the shifter as he drove. "If she's not here, then I need to stop looking."

"But, she could be-"

"Nat, come on. I've been like this for two weeks. I can't stop thinking about her, which is absolutely ridiculous. We sang two songs together, and then she bailed. I'm starting to think that even if I do find her, she's not going to remember who I am!"

She sighed in the passenger seat, and said, "I really hope she's here, just so I can see you proven wrong."

So Bradley searched the bar for you while he listened to so many bad singers in a row. He felt desperate now, knowing there wouldn't be another chance after this. And every time a denim jacket and a cute face caught his eye, he did a double take. But you weren't here either. The search was off now.

"Let's go," he told Nat, swallowing hard as he headed outside. And then he tossed your scrunchie into the center console, started up the engine and left.

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

"Come on," whined Nat, pulling on Bradley's arm. "I'll be fun!" Bradley was trying to head home after working late on Friday, but she wasn't going to let him.

"I don't feel like going to the Hard Deck tonight." He just wanted to go home, relax and pretend like he didn't still have your scrunchie in his pocket half the time.

But she stomped her foot. "No. You've been pouting. Javy, Bob and Jake are already there. We're going."

Bradley groaned and agreed to follow her to the bar to have exactly one drink. But when he walked in and realized that it was set up for karaoke, he turned to try to sneak back out.

"There he is!" Nat called, rushing forward to grab his hand before he had a chance to leave. "You promised. One drink."

"Fine," he grunted, sitting at the bar with his back to everyone else who was rushing up to pick a song to sing. And when Penny handed him a beer, he drank half of it in one sip, trying to finish it as quickly as he could.

When he was done, he reached into his pocket to get his wallet, pulling out your scrunchie at the same time. He shook his head, ready to toss it into the trash can behind the bar. But then he heard the opening chords of I've Had The Time Of My Life start playing. He'd been listening to the song nonstop for weeks, and when he spun to face the stage, he saw you. In your denim jacket.

"Rooster!" You had the microphone held up to your lips, and you were calling out to him.

"It's you!" he called back, trying to make his way through the crowd to get closer as his heart pounded.

"It's me," you told him with a bright smile. "Looks like I accidentally picked a duet as soon as I saw you. I need a partner. Are you available?"

He pushed his way through the crowd and jumped up onto the stage. "Yeah, I'm available." Then your hand was grabbing the front of his shirt, and his lips met yours. The crowd was screaming and cheering as you smiled against his mouth.

"I thought I dreamed you up," he told you, resting his forehead against yours. "Like a fairytale Princess in a denim jacket. Please don't leave this time."

"I won't," you promised, kissing him hard before turning to the DJ and giving him a thumbs up. When the song restarted, Bradley took the microphone and sang to you.

Now I've had the time of my life. No, I've never felt like this before.

Yes, I swear it's the truth, and I owe it all to you.

And then he opened up his hand, showing you that he still had your scrunchie. You gently took it as you smiled up at him in surprise, and then you slid it onto his wrist before taking his hand. But after that song, Bradley didn't even bother trying to bribe the DJ for more, because he had you in his arms, your name on his lips, and your phone number saved for later.

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

If your man won't search the kingdom for you and then turn to a pile of mush when he finds you, then he's not the one. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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star-sim · 5 months

Text

california dreamin' ☆ jay park

☆ non-idol! jay x fem! reader ☆ summary: in the final months of your relationship, jay reminisces the taste of beach waves, southern california, and you. ☆ genre: fluff, angst (ish), 80's au + timeskip, this is set in southern california, classic rich boy x alt girl ☆ warning(s)? brief mentions of poor parenting ☆ word count: 1.6k words ☆ this is my entry for @flwrstqr and @cupidhoons polaroid love event! based off of "california dreamin" by the mamas and papas, love the retro cali aesthetic

"Do you want to run away with me?"

Jay pulled the salted caramel apple lollipop away from his lips, the sour taste lingering on his tongue as its crystalline texture rolled against his tastebuds. His brows crashed together.

"What?" he eyed you quizzically, but you kept your eyes trained on the deep blue water that swayed against the coast.

"It's obvious that we're not wanted here," you said plainly.

Jay sucked in a sharp breath, his hand jerking out to clutch your shoulder. "That's not—"

"There's no point in denying it," you shot him a look. Your next words came out wry and bored, almost like you're annoyed, but Jay could tell that you were feeling the exact opposite. "You know damn well that your parents couldn't care less about you, and my old man's always too busy to remember whether or not I left the house."

The corner of your lips quirk up, a dry grin spreading across your face as you reached across to smack Jay's arm playfully. "No one will notice if we're gone."

Words bled onto his tongue, threatening to spill out, but Jay held them in.

After all, you were correct.

Jay met you in the summer of 1987. You were both sixteen, and Jay recognized you from his sophomore chemistry class— how could he miss your smudged eyeliner and black nail polish? The difference this time was that you were the cashier at the surf shop next to his dad's private beach.

Maybe it was the way you chewed pink bubblegum boredom, giving him a deadpan expression as he spluttered out your name, or maybe it was the fact that even in ninety degree Southern California weather, you still managed to wear a black bikini top with skulls and rhinestones on it, but Jay found himself frequenting that surf shop a little too much that summer.

Yes, it was his fourth time coming into this surf shop in one afternoon.

Yes, he didn't need to take his time looking at each and every shell necklace on the display next to the cash register.

Yes, he knew all about surfboards and most definitely did not need to ask for your assistance.

Yes, he knew that you were staring at the water droplets rolling down his chest as he ran his hand through his wet hair, his sun-kissed skin glistening under the golden sunlight.

Yes, he knew was staring at your bikini top, but any man in his position would do the same.

And yes, he knew that you knew that he knew this.

That didn't stop Jay, though.

If there was something that his absent father was able to do for him, it was to teach him to never have shame. That's why Jay shamelessly walked into that surf shop every day, just to see you.

It took a few (multiple) tries before you agreed to go on a date with him. He brought you flowers, necklaces, rings, handbags, all kinds of luxury items, but you ignored him each time.

It wasn't until Jay noticed the bracelet on your wrist— it had a frayed tassel and seashells of different sizes, some of them chipped and others burned by the sun— that he realized what he should bring you instead of expensive gifts.

Alas, a clumsily-made bracelet composed of mismatched seashells that was just a little too big for your wrist. When Jay presented it to you, a proud grin on his face, it must have been the first time that he'd ever seen you smile.

Since the summer of 1987, you and Jay agreed to keep your relationship secret, because people always had stuff to say. You were going strong, and what made summer the best was that you could freely love your boyfriend without the pondering eyes of your peers.

Two years later, it was the summer of 1989, and you and Jay were now sitting on the ledge before the beach. In a few weeks, summer would end, and you and Jay would be apart. But this time, apart for longer than you'd ever been. You were staying in California for university, but Jay's parents were sending him out of state.

Soon, it would be autumn, and you would have to say goodbye to not just Jay crawling through your bedroom window, sneaking out to the local beachside diner, slipping love notes into each other's lockers, and making out behind the bleachers, but also running your fingers through his chlorine-bleached hair and feeling the warmth of Jay's body as the two of you napped in the sun.

Jay looked at your face. Under the orangey sunset, he could see the light reflecting off your eyes. With the scent of peach in the air, and the glow of your skin, Jay's chest felt heavy.

How could he possibly leave you? How could he leave you when you tasted like California?

Yeah, it would be hard to say goodbye to you.

It would be hard to say goodbye to you, and nobody else.

Jay's eyes fell to the bandaid on your palm.

He knew you'd think the same about him.

There was a reason that you and Jay got on so well.

For one, it seemed like Jay was the last thing on his parent's to-do list. His only purpose was to carry on the family name and live out their legacy. But if neglecting their son and being absent in his life was their legacy, he didn't want any part in it. There was a reason that Jay spent every day of summer at the beach, not at home.

As for you, Jay hated your dad. He'd never forget all the times you ran to him, tears and smudged eyeliner running down your cheeks. You insisted that you were okay, but Jay had to bite his tongue so hard that he bled to keep his mouth shut.

In a few weeks, Jay will be the Park family's heir studying out-of-state, and you'll be you from California.

But for now, it was just Jay and you, sharing a lollipop at the beach, basking in the humid night air and listening to the waves.

You gave him another sly grin. You repeated your question. "Do you want to run away with me?"

You always liked to smile like that when you were upset about something; it was your way of concealing your feelings, but Jay knew you better than anyone.

Jay's thought about running away before. Many times, actually. And he's thought about running away hand-in-hand with you more times than he could remember.

Jay slid his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. He pressed his lips to your forehead.

"You know we can't," he said against your forehead, though the way that he held you close said otherwise.

"Says who?" you hummed, resting your head on his strong shoulders, taking in the scent of seaweed, sea salt, and Jay's faint cologne.

Jay stayed silent. He knew that answer to that question.

Says no one.

"Seeeee?" you dragged your syllable, a cute lilt in your voice. You slithered your arm around Jay's torso, poking his side. "Nothing— no one— is stopping us."

Jay chuckled, squeezing your waist twice. "Where would we go if we ran away?"

With you gently clutching his jaw, pressing wet kisses along his skin, you breathed, "Anywhere we want."

You cupped his cheek. In the winter, his skin was paler, but in the summer he was a golden honey tan. His cheeks, as a result of being in the sun nearly every day for the past three months, were littered with blotches of brown, red, and pink. With a gentle finger, you slowly dragged it against his skin, connecting each blemish to each other with invisible lines.

"What about Houston?" Jay rasped, leaning into your touch. "I know you've always wanted to go there."

"Well, where do you want to go?"

Jay thought for a moment. "Either up north to Seattle— or maybe London— What about NYC?."

You stared at him quizzically, your eyes narrowing and your lips turned downward; you always did that when you were hiding something.

"What?" Jay nudged you.

"I dunno," you shrugged. "I feel like those places are just so uncharacteristic for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged again, your bottom lip jutting out. "I thought you were a sunshine typa guy." Your eyes flickered up to him. "All those places are so gloomy."

"I mean," your boyfriend sucked in a sharp breath. "I guess. Maybe I just want some change. California is beautiful, but...."

He trailed off.

"But?"

"I want to explore more, yanno? Get to know places outside of California."

You didn't press any further.

The rest of the night was quiet, only the taste of disappointment, longing, and the salted caramel apple lollipop lingering on your tongues.

This was all but a memory to Jay.

He gazed outside the window, tuning out the voice of yet another woman in his living room.

Jay ended up studying in Seattle, just as his parents had wanted. It's been years since he left California. Him and you ended up breaking up on good terms for the sake of distance, and he eventually lost contact with you. He met a few other women, tried out dating them, but it never ended up working out.

There was no place else like California.

It seemed like everywhere else, all the leaves were brown, and the sky was gray. Dreary, gloomy, and full of clouds, so unlike the sunny and golden California.

It took Jay a long time to realize that the reason he longed for California again was not because of the constant smell of sunscreen or sound of synth music pervading the streets. It wasn't the laughter that seemed to bounce off the walls or the vibrant color-grade over every memory in his mind.

He longed for California because he longed for you.

You were California.

And for a while, he'd be dreaming of California.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #park jay x reader #park jay #park jongseong #jay fluff #jay fic #jay angst #park jay fic #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong fluff #star-sim #vanya-writes

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jaegeraether · 1 month

Text

Sunsets and footballers (Part 80)

Alexia Putellas x Character (36) - Ridley Part Two

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**8.7k**))

Guess who's back!

>> I'm going to post a chapter every Sunday night until we hit Part 100! <<

(DISCLAIMER: Although I've toned it down a lot, it is still bloody. Gory. Confronting.)

This is PART TWO of TWO for Ridley. You DO NOT have to read this! This is simply me getting out what's been in my head for a while about Ridley and her darker side and military ties. I understand this may be graphic and morally grey for people, though as I said, I've tone it down a lot and have given disclaimers.

Feel free to skip these two Ridley parts as you won't be missing anything in the main story. :)

RIDLEY POV PART 2

Ridley didn’t hesitate for a second. She was moving out of muscle memory with one hand grabbing the assailant's wrist, her cast hand reaching behind her to grab their neck as she simultaneously spun and bodied her attacker into the ground. Once she was on top – she only had one more split second to determine if they were part of Cumar’s crew, and at the identification of that, she drove his own knife into his chest, her hand covering his mouth to avoid loud, alerting sounds.

It was never a nice thing, but it was so common to her now that she knew she wouldn’t lose sleep over it. Even as she watched the light drain from his eyes.

“Injured?” Becks asked.

She knew she had a slight cut from where the knife had grazed across her abdomen just below her vest as she’d spun, though it was barely a thought. “Okay.”

He nodded and grabbed the dead man’s arms. “Wombat, help move him. Fuzzy, scout.”

Fuzzy ducked off into the trees as the two men hid the body in case someone else showed up and found him. They didn’t need any alarms set off.

Ridley had questions but waited until the others returned. In the meantime, the two women kept quiet with their backs to each other, scoping the area. It was enemy territory after all.

In no time, the Becks and Wombat appeared, and they all stayed in that area, getting more irritated at the second at the feeling of staying in one place. That’s what got you killed. But it was only a few minutes before Fuzzy returned shaking his head. “Nada, pack is stashed.” He pointed to the tree and all of them took note of it.

Becks nodded and turned to Duce. “Copy. Why was he here?”

It was a valid question.

“Expected,” she admitted. “I did assume Cumar would have scouts, though I’m very surprised he’s alone.” She looked at Fuzzy. “Nothing? Really?”

“Nothing within a few clicks.”

Becks frowned. They all did. Why was he all alone?

“He’s being punished,” Ridley murmured, and they all paused. She caught Wombat’s eye. Although he hadn’t been captured with her, he did understand where it was coming from. “Cumar. Whenever someone disappoints him, he does this as a way to win back favour. You get sent out to scout alone, and he won’t accept you back unless you bring him the head of an enemy.”

There was a moment of silence amongst them all.

“So… just the one then...” Wombat said, and they all nodded in unison before they started to track north.

Each of them wore a pack now except Fuzzy, and each held with them a close combat rifle, along with their pistols and other weapons. They were allowed to choose which suited them best, though ultimately the M4A5 Carbine was perfect for this task. Only Duce carried an extra and it was a Barrett M82, a sniper rifle. She was the best sniper of the group.

They approached carefully through the trees, their three remaining packs heavily weighing them down and as Fuzzy did, they stashed their packs along the way. They found the first group of Cumar’s men and made quick, light work of them without needing to fire a shot. Although their target was purely the retrieval of the boy, Akeem, they needed to think in advance of their own safety. Should guns start firing at Cumar’s base, the others would come running and they couldn’t allow that. That, and they wanted to stay hidden for as long as possible.

And so, station by station, group by group, they took out his security teams scattered through the trees as quickly and quietly as possible. If they had chained them up, they could escape. If they had left them alive, they could make contact and put them all in danger. So they did what they were trained to do, and tied up loose ends as they moved through the area tactically.

It was the best way to think of it and not get into your head; by thinking of them as just that. Loose ends. Potential threats. It also helped to know what these men had done. They’d beaten, abducted, killed, tortured and raped. In her head, she justified it by knowing many more people would be safe now that they were gone.

As they took out the last of the security camps quickly and quietly, four of them stowed their knives, though Becks had always preferred brute force. As she confirmed with a signal that the others were done, she turned and saw him snap the last man’s neck sideways and up which was a terrifying show of just how strong he was. Becks pulled him into the brush where he wouldn’t be seen and gave his signal to Ridley.

They all knew what was required of them now. The group had cleared their path in, and now the last of the packs needed to be dumped, which was Becks’. Their packs were spread out along their route so far and stored in different positions – all GPS tracked. They contained the necessities to survive in that area. Food, water, electrolytes, medical supplies, navigational aids, weapons and more. It was essentially a supply dump in case they were stranded.

They didn’t fuck around from there, though. They needed to keep moving quickly in case they alerted anyone with an unanswered radio call to one of the groups they’d been through.

They advanced on Cumar’s place now a lot lighter, sporting only their black combat gear which held no identifiable logo. No markings nor brands nor colours that would tie them to any country or division. For all Cumar’s people would know – they were independent mercenaries. For this same reason, the bottom half of their faces were covered, Ridley knowing that if Cumar saw her, he’d known she was Australian SASR. That’s another thing to avoid. A political war.

Cumar’s place was an old prison in the middle of nowhere – inland and southwest of Mogadishu, Somalia. He’d repurposed it from abandoned, and intelligence agencies had only discovered it a few weeks prior, with the involvement of Duce’s team. From here – he was protected by the trees around him as well as the sky. As made obvious by the SEALs – anything that flew over was shot down immediately. On foot was the only method available to them.

As they moved close enough to view the large prison campus themselves, they reached a point of no return. A point, where they couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t be spotted. A point, where bullets could start firing at any second.

Duce called that point she had estimated as they approached. “P.O.N.R.”

Ridley’s mind kicked into another gear as those letters came through her headset. She could be dead any second, and it made her feel… alive.

They all acknowledged the PONR and continued, warier than ever. They barely made it another 50 metres before-

“Contact!” Fuzzy called, just before the sound of bullets littered the air. Ridley immediately identified the points as two old prison guard towers. Duce, Fuzzy and Wombat took one of the towers out, and Duce set up in it to sniper.

“Tower one down.”

Becks and Ridley took the second tower and left it empty.

“Tower two down,” she called as they assessed their approach path from there. From their position of advancement towards the prison – there was only one more tower in view which would hinder their approach. “Holding due fire. Take the third.”

Duce snipered the third tower which provided enough so that Wombat and Fuzzy could take it out.

“Tower three down. Providing cover.”

As soon as that was called – Becks, Duce and Wombat provided cover from the three towers which hindered the hostiles in the prison walls enough for Ridley and Fuzzy to approach. Gun up, she sprinted, seeing Fuzzy in her periphery. A bullet tore past her arm, grazing the skin and she immediately felt the hot flash and the blood begin to drip.

She didn’t stop. She knew from experience that it wasn’t bad enough to stop. She took aim where it came from and shot the hostile as he leant over the railing. Her shot made a whizzing sound through the air and hit her target directly. She jumped sidewards to avoid his body hitting the ground as she made it to the building, her arm slamming into the wall near the entrance where Fuzzy also arrived. He nodded, out of breath and entered the building, Ridley right behind him. They worked their way through the halls, picking off the hostiles one by one, targeting the face of the building which impeding the entry of the others. Eventually it provided enough relief for the others to enter, and separately, worked their way through the building, targeting the different areas where they thought Akeem may be.

“A-block clear.” Ridley called over the headset.

“B-block clear.” Wombat.

“North courtyard.” The sound of a groan and then a shot. “…clear.” Becks.

“South courtyard clear.” Fuzzy.

“Barracks clear visual.” Duce called. The barracks were outside of the main building and they had agreed to not unnecessary go outside unless it was their last option.

Ridley rounded a corner and the end of her carbine was grabbed and she was wrenched forwards. She immediately ducked from the knife she knew was awaiting her throat and spun, kicking her assailant hard into the wall. She swung her gun to her back and jumped back from the next swing, smacking the knife out of his hand and landing a punch to his abdomen and then jaw in quick succession. An arm came around her neck and grabbed her then, squeezing tight and lifting her from the ground. The man in front of her battered several punches into her ribs while she was immobilised by the second assailant. She managed to swing her body up and kick him in the face, feeling his nose give way as he fell backwards into the wall. Her feet hit the ground as she started to black out from the chokehold, though she found enough energy to leap up and throw her head back into the man behind her.

The man shouted something in Somali and stumbled back into the railing, dragging her with him. She was 30 seconds away from a full black out. A sudden sharp, hot pain hit the side of her thigh, and she grunted in shock. Suddenly, she had a weapon. Ridley kicked the broken-nosed assailant on the floor, ripped the knife from her thigh and slammed it into the neck of the man behind her, feeling the rush of hot blood on the back of her neck and down under her vest. Her cast hand scream in pain as she did so, though she paid it no mind. The assailant behind her dropped and she ripped the knife forwards towards the back of her head, which subsequently tore through his throat.

Ridley snatched her pistol and shot once into the head of the broken-nosed man on the floor in front of her.

“Infirmary clear.” Fuzzy.

“C-block clear.” Wombat.

She stumbled forwards and groaned, grabbing hold of her thigh. It didn’t hit the artery. She put a little pressure on it to feel the blood flow and then took her tourniquet out from her belt and slid it up her leg, tightening it above the entry wound on her outer thigh.

“D-block clear.” Becks.

She gasped as she tightened it and put pressure on her foot to test. Duce hadn’t answered in a while – and she knew exactly where she was originally headed to next. Ridley swung her gun around and did her best to run towards the cafeteria. It was very central in the building, and easily the best defended.

She entered the café to see what she’d expected. Half the room was taken up by supplies. Weapons. Drugs. Guns. Akeem was there, gagged and chain to a pole. Duce was there, bloodied and on her knees with a gun to her head by someone Ridley recognised as Cumar’s son, Bashir. Cumar was in the middle of the group, watching the proceedings. They hadn’t expected Ridley at that moment, though. She put a bullet through each of the guards before stepping into the room. Bashir hesitated his task and as his head spun to her, gun switching from Duce to Ridley, she fired a shot straight through his shoulder.

With a cry, he fell backwards, and Duce was on top of him in seconds, pinning him.

Cumar went to spin and- “DON’T you fucking move.” Ridley warned as she approached.

“Akeem and Cumar located - cafeteria. Two hostiles.” Duce made the call to the team.

Ridley heard shots and footsteps louder and closer. Her eyes didn’t leave Cumar’s. She could tell he was trying to judge if he could spin and grab his gun in time. He took a step back and she took a warning step forward. “Don’t.”

Becks entered the room and paused, waiting for the outcome.

“Not one move. On the ground, hands behind your head!”

Cumar hesitated like his son, his face turning from a sneer to curiosity. “It’s you, isn’t it? The one who escaped?”

His English was quite good for a third language.

Ridley didn’t answer. “On the ground, hands behind your head!”

He muttered something in Somali to Bashir, and she heard her name amongst it.

She took a step forward again, her gun still very much aimed at his chest.

“The one I couldn’t break… Ridley.” He murmured, his eyes lighting up as if he wanted another chance.

He’d sneered in her face. Cut her flesh. Bruised her body. He came back again and again. He wasn’t interested in anything other than pain. He had a sort of fascination with it and justified it as simply trying to get information. He didn’t. Not from her. And when he didn’t, he made her watch as… James…

That was the worse torture she’d ever endured. Not the physical, but the visual. Having to watch her friend take his last breath. A person she’d laughed with, drunk with, opened up to. That was the kind of pain that made her keep her distance from everyone, including Alexia.

“Your friend was breakable though. What was his name again?”

She knew Becks was behind her and could almost read his thoughts. ‘Don’t let him get to you.’

“Don’t hurt him!” Bashir screamed from the ground until Duce gagged him. She held him there, and Ridley could hear him yelling against his gag. Screaming for his father. Together – they were the worst kind of father and son.

“Wings-” Becks started from behind her.

“No.” She responded. He wanted to take the burden of the situation from her shoulders. But she didn’t need him to.

“John?” Cumar continued. “Jim?”

She took a deep breath and took another step forward. “Reach for that gun and I will put a bullet in your heart.”

Although Cumar wasn’t their primary target – he was so high on the UN wanted list, that he was listed only as a shoot to kill.

“Joshua? Jackson?” Another step back towards his gun.

“One more warning. On your knees. Hands behind your head. I will not repeat myself.”

“Oh… that’s right. It was James.” He said his name like he didn’t care, because truly, he didn't.

James with the kind eyes and the bright smile. James, the guy who’d saved her life when she was just starting out in the Airforce. James who had only joined to hide the fact that he was gay, and the only person who knew was Ridley, and Wombat.

A tear pricked at her eye, but she didn’t let it fall. She took a deep breath and without thinking about it – her mind turned to Alexia to calm itself. Alexia. Her skin and her smell. Her style, her laugh, her smile. Her fucking eyes and that freckle on her neck where her lips had been… Ridley’s mind cleared. Her hatred subsided.

“James.” Cumar snapped and spun. When his hand touched the gun, she landed two shots into his chest and watched as his back hit the container of weaponry behind him.

Bashir screamed against his gag and tears ran down his face.

Cumar smirked at her and turned his head towards his son where it lulled to his chest with a final breath.

Ridley stood upright, lowering her gun and felt… relief. So much so that she hadn’t heard Fuzzy enter the room.

“Fuzzy – get the kid,” Becks commanded. “Wombat – you can come in now.”

Becks must have been keeping him out to avoid emotional bias.

Footsteps behind her.

“Wombat – photograph the area. The kid. The weapons. The body. Duce – tie him for transport.”

She watched as Fuzzy untied Akeem who clung to him. Wombat with his locked jaw as he photographed Cumar as evidence he was dead. Duce as she sat Bashir up and tied his arms for transport. His focus was on one thing only – Ridley.

She felt a large hand on her shoulder. “You did excellent.”

“I know,” she replied. She felt strange emotions in the pit of her abdomen at the idea that the mere thought of her Spanish footballer had driven that hatred from her. Had calmed her. “If I hadn’t arrived first, would you have let me in the room – or kept me out like Wombat?”

Becks removed his hand and waited until she turned to look at him. “I trust you above anyone else. I trust your judgement. If you weren’t going to make the right decision, you wouldn’t have entered the room yourself.”

He was right. As usual. His words just reaffirmed what she already knew.

Her eyes swept the room, knowing they needed to move, and quickly. She touched on each of the important areas to memorise for the debrief. Fuzzy was up and ready with Akeem as he put a small vest on him and gave him instruction in Arabic. Wombat was tearing open containers – photographing the evidence. Duce was also standing with her hostage, ready to go. Ridley turned her attention away from Bashir who was still glaring at her – and only her. She’d just replaced an enemy with and enemy.

“He’s not out objective. He’s a large liability and we can’t fly back with the addition of his weight and Akeem’s.” It wasn’t an argument – it was a discussion.

“He’s worth the risk and you know he is. We need to neutralise his influence, and we can’t kill him without an order or as defence.”

She already knew this, but it was her job to question things in order to make good decisions as a group. In their line of work, Bashir would just replace his father and continue to do as he did. If they successfully took him, he’d face an international tribunal and live the rest of his life in prison.

“Agreed. I can get us just back across the border. We can make contact in the air for ground support to meet us and clear the road to land.”

Becks nodded and they relayed the information to the team. “Let’s move.”

As they’d only approached from the south, they hadn’t taken out any of the security camps in any other direction to the prison, and now they were all arriving. They hadn’t been there long though, and still had time to get to the aircraft ahead of them.

The seven of them fled the prison and now, subtlety be damned, took a vehicle and drove it south to the landing strip. Along the way there was gunfire and shots equally back and forth, though they managed to stay ahead with a decent pace.

“Reloading,” Ridley shouted and knelt to the safety of cover as Duce drove like a bat out of hell. Akeem was up front, hiding in the footrest below Fuzzy as Becks held down Bashir and both Wombat and Ridley took the offensive positions from the back.

“Injury status!”

They team shouted their okay’s one by one. Ridley grabbed at her leg which was still seeping fresh blood. “I’ll be okay.”

“Reloading!” Wombat shouted and ducked. Ridley rose to take his position, firing on what she now identified as an entire convoy coming after them. Although it was hard to see in the dark, she knew there must have been hundreds of people. It wasn’t her best Tuesday, but certainly not her worst either.

Ridley felt a large hand grab her thigh and feel around the wound. She groaned, not ready for the pain.

“You’re losing a lot of blood.”

“Very aware of that.”

Becks loosened the tourniquet, and she momentarily felt relief before the searing pain began as the blood began to flow more freely. He tightened it again. “We’ll alert medical in the air. Hang in there, Wings.”

“Coming up on the airfield!”

“Wombat, Fuzzy, take the kid and bail out. Start the pre-flight checks and get the engine running. We’ll double back.”

“Rome-” Wombat started and then saw the state of her leg. He nodded, knowing he’d be quicker on foot than she would in this state.

“Duce?” Becks yelled over the roar of the engine and the sound of shouting and bullets.

“Just around this corner. They’ll be a few hundred metres from the strip and we can double back using the F-track.”

The one they’d identified during prep.

“Copy. Get the brake lights.”

Wombat and Ridley leant over and smashed the brake lights.

“Get ready to jump, lads!”

Becks and Ridley took to cover fire and as the road turned tightly and Duce hit the brakes to slow them enough for Wombat and Fuzzy to jump out, pulling a terrified Akeem with them. As soon as they were out, she hit the accelerator again. Ridley could only see them in the dark long enough to see Wombat’s hand raised in acknowledgement of their safe landing.

Duce drove them to the F-track, which was a trail almost invisible in the dark. She managed to get far enough ahead to take a quick 360 spin into the darkness and turn the lights off as she sped backwards behind the scrub. They stayed low and quiet, Becks holding Bashir to stop him from writhing about as they watched the vehicles rush past them, still firing into the darkness. They only needed to buy themselves five minutes to get the plane into the air safely.

Lights off, they drove up the track slowly which almost parallelled the road they were just on and made a judgement call to rejoin the road in the other direction when they couldn’t see any more speeding vehicles. It was a public road – after all.

They turned and drove into the trees as far as they could before the terrain forced them to abandon the vehicle. They took to foot from there, moving in unison towards where they knew the aircraft was.

Just as they saw the aircraft, there was a slight pang of relief, though Ridley knew they were far from safe. She locked her jaw as she ran with a limp, her good hand on her gun to stop it from bouncing, and her cast hand on her tourniquet to ensure it wouldn’t unwind. Blinding pain, with each step. She hobbled behind, watching Becks half carry, half drag Bashir in front of her.

‘You deserve this for what you did to Alexia.’ She thought. It was meant to be a playful thought to ease the pain, though it did hit her hard.

She felt the bullet whizz past her head before she heard it firing. And then the sound of ATVs.

“Contact!”

Wombat started the engine and Fuzzy held the canopy open, taking aim at the hostiles. Duce made it to the aircraft first, being the lightest. She hopped in and took up a cover position with Fuzzy. Becks was hit through the shoulder and fell, clutching it. Ridley stopped to grab him.

“M.. okay.” Was all he said. They both turned to get Bashir who was already on his feet and running in the opposite direction. He wasn’t worth it.

“Go!” Becks called. Wombat pushed the throttle forward and the plane began to move. Ridley sliced the rope tied to a branch just above eyesight and Fuzzy’s pack dropped down. He always loved to hide them in the treetops, and they’d need the medical supplies for both her and Becks.

Becks leapt onto the wing and Fuzzy dragged him inside by the shoulder strap of his vest. With a heave, Ridley threw the pack into the aircraft and leapt onto the wing, grabbing at Duce’s extended hand. Before she was pulled in, blood spattered her face at a bullet hitting Duce’s extended arm. She yelled and recoiled it on instinct. Ridley pushed herself onto her knees and felt a bullet slam directly into her back, knocking her forward off the wing. She barely missed the propeller as she fell, pulling her arm in to avoid the landing gear. She gasped and clutched her headgear, grateful that it took the blow of her weight onto the ground.

Winded, she pushed herself to her feet and began hobbling along the landing strip. She saw Wombat hesitate, but Cumar’s men were just too close.

“GO!” She yelled through her headset. She saw the devastation on their faces. The aircraft was too far away from her now and they all knew that if they waited for her, they’d be caught, or a bullet would tear into a fuel tank. “…Wombat – go. That’s an order.”

Becks grabbed Fuzzy’s pack and threw it from the aircraft for her, and as she didn’t slow her run as she grabbed it and swung it onto her back, grateful.

The sound of ATVs came closer, one in particular. Ridley ran as fast as she could in the pain she was in, watching as Wombat pushed the throttle all the way forward.

‘That’s it, then,’ she thought, as she heard the single ATV leading the others approaching her.

Just before the canopy on the aircraft closed, a single bullet was fired from Duce’s rifle, hitting the ATV rider in the head. Ridley spun to watch as he flopped off, and it came to a halt. She made the decision to backtrack and take it.

“Thank you,” she strained into her headset, knowing that Duce have just given her a chance at survival.

“Come back to us,” Duce replied, emotionally, which was very unlike her.

“My note..”

“We’ll be waiting for you to come tear it up.”

Ridley swung up onto the ATV and hit the throttle. She blindly shot behind her and drove laterally across the strip to fire more accurately at the oncoming vehicles – to provide cover for her team. As the aircraft passed the treetops and she knew they were safe, she holstered her gun and ducked to give less of her body a chance of being shot at – and accelerated as fast as she could through the trees.

Was this it? Was this how she died? She wondered at her note. Every mission they went on – they each wrote a note to friends, family, loved ones. It tied up all loose ends and said whatever they wanted it to say. There was a rule that the rest of the group had to follow the instructions on the note – should they not make it back. James’ had left instructions for Wombat and Ridley to tell his crush that he loved him, to tell his family that he was sorry, and also requested that the pair wore the gayest clothes they could find to his funeral. As is the way – they did just that. And they cried, in the most flamboyant dresses anyone had ever seen.

Her note… Alexia. No one would read it until they knew she was never coming back. It was private, and they respected each other, though she did wonder as to their reactions. Leaving most of her things to Blue… except the house in Barcelona, London, and Chiquito. That was all Alexia’s.

She’d fumbled over the words for a while until she settled on simplicity.

*Tell her that I love her and that some things can’t be replaced. Tell her she is that for me...and always will be.*

The words she wrote had dragged the truth from her. She loved Alexia. She loved her.

She chanted those words in her head as she ducked and weaved through the trees. She drove until she ran out of fuel, and abandoned it, settling to go on foot from there. She hobbled along, gasping for breath and starting to get faint from the lack of blood. She didn’t even want to see the state of her back, and knew even though she was wearing a vest, the bullet had done damage to her ribs.

When she knew she couldn’t possibly continue in that state, she stopped at a tree suitable to spend some time and did just that. Taking the tree climbing spikes from the pack and attaching them to her boots, using the claws in her hands, she climbed. It was difficult with the pack, but she’d reserved enough energy for it. This is why she stayed so fit. Survival.

She settled onto a branch tall enough to not be spotted easily, and tied herself there, in case she fainted or fell asleep. Taking the medical supplies out, she was finally able to tend to her wounds as best as she could, knowing that she’d need another surgery on her hand if she ever made it out. Her leg… was another story. She bit on her packaged bandage while she packed the wound, and then used the bandage to strap it. With this, she could loosen the tourniquet.

After a little water and food, she felt herself drifting and knew not to fight it. She took a small nap in the tree, and when she woke, she planned. She took out her tablet and located her tracker, seeing where she was. During her planning, several men and ATVs passed below her, yelling about her. One of the men was Bashir, now bandaged up and leading the manhunt.

She couldn’t go down the coast as they controlled the water. Their ATVs were hunting offroad. They had checkpoints along the main road. Her best option was an airstrip nearby. They couldn’t see it from their satellite images and so they’d brushed it aside as an unlikely possibility, though there was still hope. If she could find an aircraft, any aircraft, she could get out. She just needed to cross the border.

It was several clicks inland of where she was, and she’d need to cross the road, but she could make it if she was careful, and lucky. Very, very lucky.

When she sounds of men and vehicles around her had subsided enough, she climbed back down from the tree and started to move, highly alert that she was in enemy territory. A few times, she needed to stop and drop or find a ditch to lay low in and simply pray. Pray to a god she didn't believe it.

She crossed the road and after a few clicks of terror, she happened upon the field. That’s basically what it was, a field. It was just as wide as if was long which meant she’d be spotted much easier. As with every airfield, she found a hangar and crept around the back to peer through the window. She spotted a little Cessna inside guarded by two men. Bashir was smart. He must have sent them to hide inside, knowing she may try to escape like that. Though he must have been very stretched for manpower, covering the large area they were hunting her in. He’d have men at the boats, the jetties, the checkpoints, the multiple search parties, even back at the prison in case she dared risk returning. This made her feel confident that they were alone, and by the looks of them, they didn’t expect her at all.

She took a breath and stepped inside through the back entrance. They were fully grown men with guns, yet they were not nearly as trained and experienced as she was. Ridley took them both down without having to fire a single bullet to aware anyone of where she was. She dragged them to the back of the hangar and checked over the aircraft, removing the covers and testing the flight controls. Using the step and handle, she groaned her pain as she pulled herself up far enough to check the fuel levels in the wings. They weren’t full, but with only her weight, she dared that it would get her to Mandy Bay.

Without wasting time, she unloaded all the excess weight of manuals, chocks, supplies from the aircraft and left her unnecessary pack items there also. This was it. She was going to risk taking off.

Ridley pulled the hangar doors open as slowly and as soundlessly as possible, enough to be able to pull the aircraft outside. From engine start up, she needed to go. She didn’t have time for checks. Before jumping into the aircraft, she listened around. She could hear cars close on the road, ATV’s a few clicks away, and some rustling in the trees with a little wind.

Hopping in, she primed the engine and took a deep breath. Opening the throttle a quarter inch, she started the engine and threw the mixture to full. Once the engine roared to life, she taxied the little four-seater to where she needed it, applying much more throttle than necessary to heat up the oil. The last thing she needed was the engine to seize. God knows how long it had been sitting there for.

Ridley looked around her and spotted lights coming through the trees as she sat, ready for take-off. She took as long as she dared to heat the engine up before she couldn’t wait any longer.

She applied full throttle, pulled the steering column back and took her feet off the brakes, hurtling down the field, bumping along the way.

Oil temperature in the orange. Airspeed alive. 30 knots. 40. 50. 60 – “Rotate.” She called out of habit as she pulled back. She heard gunfire behind her and chose to focus on her attitude indicator instead. She went lights out and pitched up as much as she could without stalling – to climb as fast as possible away from the bullets. The climb performance was atrocious, and so she also chose to not bank any direction for the simple reason that she didn’t want to present more aircraft for them to shoot at. Passing 3000ft, she turned and saw the lights flooding the field she was just in. She continued to climb, darting inland to gain height before risking a move across to track down the coast. She was tense the entirety of the way, watching her temperatures and the lights of the vehicles swarming around the ground to her right. She had no idea how she’d not been caught with the sheer amount of them.

They were like ants, except worse. They killed and stole and raped and took what didn’t belong to them. Cumar was dead. But she feared that without Bashir in custody – they’d just created a whole new animal.

She flew with lights out until she’d passed the border, and her tension eased a little. So much, in fact, that her thigh, hand, and back began to throb with pain and she became faint as her adrenaline subsided.

Without a headset, she was unable to make any radio calls, though she knew her team would be tracking her GPS and stand down the jets as she came in to land. The reliable Cessna was all but running on fumes as she landed around 0330, finally back on friendly soil.

Ridley taxied the aircraft over near the jets and half-faint, still managed a chuckle at the image of a small Cessna next to jets worth over 100 million dollars each. She stopped where the crowd had formed, and watched her team run over as she pulled the mixture out and shut the engine down.

Ridley didn’t even have to open her door and step out. Becks all but ripped the doorframe out as Wombat dragged her from the aircraft.

Hugs.

Kisses.

Grateful words.

Tears.

She felt her crew all help to carry her to an awaiting stretcher where she was led into the medical tent for assessment.

She was stitched up, patched up, given fluids and food. Her team came in with their General and a man in a suit as she was eating.

“Wings, this is Aamir. His son is Akeem.”

Aamir looked like a kind man, truly. He shook her hand and let them all know just how grateful he was for saving his son. He offered them the world. Anything they wanted. Being a billionaire, his favour was a great thing to have, and she knew that they’d gained that for life.

Ridley replied to him as much as she could in her weary state. Becks murmured some words to him and he nodded, leaving the group alone with their General. Together, they debriefed. Ridley ended it with her happenings, and he seemed much more than satisfied. With the death of Cumar came relief, and an offer of an award to her for her bravery and success in taking down someone the world had been trying to find for decades.

‘It was all luck,’ she thought to herself, though smiled and accepted the kind offer.

After he left, Becks handed Ridley her note. Her team looked at her eagerly. She went to tear it and found herself pausing – instead holding it to her chest. “I think I’ll keep it…” she murmured.

They knew better than to argue against that. In fact, they smiled.

At 0445 Ridley found herself outside, looking up at the stars and wishing for peace. This was her life. She looked over at Akeem entering his dad’s private jet and smiled as he stopped to wave at her. He was a brave kid.

“Headed home?” Becks asked as he sidled up next to her.

“I’m not sure,” she murmured.

“It’s a simple decision, no?”

She turned to look at him curiously. He was usually exceptionally quiet, so it was easy to know when he had something he wanted to say. He smiled at her look and gestured to the jet. “Aamir is happy to take you to London. If you leave soon, you’ll get there before she leaves.”

Her heart leapt. Alexia. He knew. How? She was leaving? Why?

Her thoughts scattered across her face, and she was too tired to hide them. “How…?”

He knocked his shoulder gently into hers. “I keep tabs on you. On all of you. You know this.”

It was how he cared. How he loved.

“I won’t tell you what to do, because I respect you too much. You make your own decisions. But what I will say is that you keep going back. You always gravitate back towards her. She makes you happy. I never thought you’d find anyone… hell, I don’t think any of us expect to ever find anyone. You’re the lucky one. And you’d be doing us all a disservice if you didn’t try to have what we all want.”

She caught her emotions in her throat. Of course he knew everything. He loved his team like his family. More so, even. “How do you know I’m not trying?”

He looked back at the jet he was staring at before. “You arrive late and dishevelled, wearing a hardened Ridley façade I haven’t seen in years. Trying too hard to cover those emotions. You left her.”

“She’s better off-”

“Without you?” He turned to her again. “Tell me – did you give her a choice before you left?”

She froze. She… hadn’t. She’d given her every single choice except that one.

‘But you did it for her,’ she thought.

“And don’t even tell me you did it for her,” he said, annoying Ridley with his intelligence.

“She’s… public. You know we need to fly under the radar.”

“Wings, you know you don’t fit into that category. Yes, you need to stay low. But you know how to protect yourself, and her. You can do it all at once. You don’t lack in that department. Most people need their time to dissociate. You’re all Ridley, all at once. The soldier, the protector, the lover. You don’t split them like everyone else does. It’s you. That’s what makes you different.”

It was the most he’d ever complimented her, and that's exactly how she took it all – as a compliment. She was whole.

“I’d put her in danger…”

Becks scoffed, and it’s the first time in her life that she’d ever heard him do so. “There is no better protection than you. And us. That is no excuse to not try.”

She lowered her head into her hands and grabbed at her hair. “How can someone like her… someone as fucking perfect as her deserve someone as fucking.. fucking.. broken and horrible as I am?” She raised her head and looked him in the eyes. “Huh? I’ve fucking slaughtered people like animals.”

“Those people were animals. You did what no one else could. That’s why we do what we do. To save everyone else. To do the things they can’t. We hurt ourselves and taint our souls so they will sleep well at night. That’s loyalty. That’s patriotism. That’s love.”

It was the most Becks had ever opened up. The most he’d ever said at one time.

That’s love.

He handed her a tablet with an open screen. “They’ve booked tickets back to Barcelona at 2pm. If you leave now, you’ll arrive just in time given the headwind. I’ve upgraded them to first class and forced the deadhead crew onto the next flight.”

Ridley stared down at her name on the tablet. “She shouldn’t take me back after what I’ve done to her.”

He smiled and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “That’s how you’ll know she’s the one for you. She won’t just let you back in with open arms. She’ll make you work for it.” Ridley rolled her eyes. “Trust me. I know you, Wings.”

They both sighed and looked up at the stars again. Somehow, he’d forced her to accept herself and how she felt. She deserved to be loved.

Saying her goodbyes to her team with lingering hugs, she boarded the private jet and as she always did – she headed towards Alexia.

She was fed well on the plane and managed to shower, catch some sleep, and even dress into some clothes Duce had given her. They landed 30 minutes before Alexia’s plane was due to depart which gave her just enough time to tell the ground crew to standby on her luggage and on Chiquito.

Would she come with her? Would she even want to see her?

Ridley made her way to the gate and saw the flash of her blonde hair and that familiar frown on Alexia’s face as she passed into the airbridge. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Ridley avoided the line and went around the desk.

“Five minutes,” she murmured to the familiar woman at the gate, touching her shoulder on the way past. The woman smiled at her and nodded. She knew her.

On board, she gave a knowing nod to the cabin crew before making her way to first class, where she knew Alexia was seated. Her stomach fluttered as she watched her tighten her seatbelt and change a song on her phone. She sighed and her expression was… heartbroken. Ridley had done this to her.

Her feet moved towards her automatically, her eyes only for the Spaniard.

Ignoring the pain in her thigh and back, she knelt in front of her, holding back the urge to touch her.

Alexia’s entire body froze in surprise. Her expression flickered to wonder. Worry. Pain again. Those hazel eyes darted from her eyes to her hair, neck, lips, scar, and back to her eyes. Ridley reached up slowly, ignoring her painful ribs, and pulled Alexia’s noise cancelling headphones down and around her neck gently, hoping she wouldn’t shy away from her.

“La Reina..” “Ridley..” Alexia breathed, almost without words it seemed. There were a few moments of silence as they just stared at each other, talking without words. Alexia unclipped her belt suddenly and leant forward, closer to her. So close she could almost taste her… Ridley locked her jaw and hoped she wouldn’t see the bruises, nor the blood beginning to seep from her wound through her pants. “You left,” she whispered in a voice that betrayed her hurt. “I did.” “You fucking left, Ridley.” Anger. Ridley nodded, leaning forwards… just needing to be close to her. “I’m sorry, Lex.” Her fingertips brushed Alexia’s hair from her cheek and just that small touch send shivers down her spine. “I need to say something, if you’d let me.” A pause. “Go ahead.” “I ran… I ran, and I’m sorry. You deserve better.” She needed to open up and be vulnerable. Becks all but told her this. “Lex… you can’t understand how torn I am… how conflicted. Half of me wants you to leave and find happiness elsewhere, away from me, so I don’t taint your beautiful soul with my darkened one. The other half begs for you, yearns for you, dreams about you and selfishly wants you close to me, always.” “You always said that you weren’t good for me, but I never believed you. I still don’t.” Her eyes told Ridley that she was telling the truth. Ridley sighed and looked down in shame. “I feel like I’m not good for anybody, and I didn’t want to put that burden on you for simply loving me. I went away and couldn’t stop my thoughts. I was conflicted. But amongst my confliction, I missed one very important thing. I didn’t give you a choice.” She looked up at her again, mirroring Becks’ words and thinking on her past 24 hours. “My soul is tainted, Lex. I’ve done horrible things that I’ll regret for the rest of my life. But I also know that I’ve never felt about anyone, the way I feel about you. You’ll always be safe with me, whether it’s physically, mentally, financially… I’m still working on the emotionally part. You bring far too much out of me in that regard.” She watched as Alexia’s lips trembled.

A flight attendant tapped Ridley’s shoulder. “Boarding is almost finished.”

Ridley nodded. “I’ll be two minutes.” She turned back to Alexia; her eyes open to her emotions. “Lex, meeting you broke a spell I’ve been under for a long time. Meeting you made me realise that maybe I was worthy of love after all. You took up space in my heart before I even knew it, and now, it seems you’re there to stay. I feel sorry for the Ridley before you because she didn’t realise how much love and happiness she was missing without you. You’ve changed me forever, and I’ll happily spend the rest of my life trying to thank you.” She cupped her cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “Regardless of if you want to stay or go…” Ridley was giving her what she’d unknowingly denied her before. A choice.

Alexia’s trembled and leant down, her hands touching her, and her cheek pressed against her own. She feel of her skin against her own sent a wave of peace she’d never known through Ridley’s body. “I’m damaged..” she whispered against Alexia’s cheek. Her last, fleeting attempt to dissuade her. “You’re human…” Alexia replied softly against hers, nudging it a little. “I’m broken.” Alexia’s hand gently moved down and rested over her heart. “You feel whole to me.” Whole… whole with her. Ridley’s hands found Alexia’s wrists and gripped on, wanting to keep her right there. Wanting her close.

Alexia’s lips brushed up her cheek, over her temple and to her forehead where she gave a single, passionate kiss. Much more than she deserved. “I’m right here.” Ridley felt a shiver run down her spine at that reassurance. Alexia’s large hands were either side of her jaw now, her cheek resting against her eyebrow. Ridley let them rest like that for what felt like an age, and not long enough at the same time. Eventually and fully against every fibre of her being, Ridley pulled back and found her eyes again, her expression distraught.

Alexia blinked an emotion, and her lips parted.

“I’m sorry I ran,” Ridley whispered. “It’s okay.” “It’s not. Not at all. Now the choice is yours, Lex.”

Alexia paused to think before she spoke. “I want you, Lee. In every single way. But relationships are a two-way street, and they start with us as individuals. I want you. I lov-“ She stopped herself and Ridley sucked in a breath just as she did. They loved each other. Alexia loved her. “I… but right now you need to find that part of you that doesn’t believe you deserve to be loved, and you need to learn to love yourself. To know in your heart that you deserve to love and be loved.. because you do. You fucking do. You deserve the world.”

Ridley’s face almost betrayed her relief she’d been harbouring since her conversation with Becks. He’d said that if she was right for her, she wouldn’t let her back in easily. Ridley hardened her face to neutral, trying to hide that it was what she wanted to hear. “You’re… right.” Alexia leant forward again, and kissed her on the forehead. “I know. And I truly hope you can find that, because you deserve to have the love of your life.” She pulled back. “Is there any hope for us?” Please be hope. Please. “If you can learn to love yourself, and promise me that you’ll stay. That you won’t run away again. That you’re ready to move forwards, together.” Ridley paid close attention to her words. “I need you to be here for me, like I am for you. I need security.” “How will you know that I’m ready?” Alexia smiled. “You’ll fight for me. For us.” Ridley tried to hide her smile. Becks had been right. “Until then… can we be friends?” “Friends who love each other, yes. Yes, please. I’d like that.” Ridley knew she needed to fight for her. To not leave her again. To show her she was in it. “Hm.” Ridley looked over her shoulder and gestured to the flight attendant who came by. “No change to the manifest. Please stand the ground crew down. Leave the baggage and pet on board.” She nodded with a smile and left.

“You’re leaving Chiquito with me?” “I can’t take him away from you..” “He’s yours.” “I think you’ll find that he’s ours now.” Alexia failed to hide a look of unfiltered joy. “We can share him…” Ridley smiled and Alexia’s eyes went straight to her lips and then her cheek. She reached out and touched her scar. “Deal.” She agreed. Ridley tried to look as normal as possible as she rocked back on her heels, ignoring the almost unbearable pain, and stood. “Goodbye, Alexia.”

Alexia caught her arm as she went to turn, and pulled her back down, their faces close enough to share their first kiss. The thought certainly crossed her mind. “Ridley?” “Yes?” “Don’t leave again. Fight for me. Fight for us.” Ridley’s pride crept up. She leant over to clip her belt up, pulling it tight across her hips and wondering at how good she looked strapped up. Her thumb found those lips she couldn’t stop thinking about, and traced them softly. “I will. Do you know why?” Alexia’s eyes widened, and she shook her head against her thumb. “Because you’re fucking mine, Alexia.”

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #alexia putellas #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barca #fcb femení #culers

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crazylittlejester · 12 days

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im in such a yapping mood today and i feel like ive made a post like this before but this is how i personally think the Links would dress in a modern era

Time: in a casual setting I know he wears the dark jeans + black band shirt combo and sometimes he’ll tie his hair up if he gets hot. it’s not an intentional fashion statement, he’s not trying to dress a certain way on purpose by any means he just dresses like a guy who plays guitars but says its “just a hobby” (he owns at least three.) and its just the shirt and the pants, there are no accessories, he’s just your father who hasn’t listened to new music or gone clothes shopping since the 80s (/j) but he can absolutely clean up nice and looks good when he needs to

Warriors: Possibly the sluttiest thing a man can wear (/j) is a cardigan sweater and he owns like. 12 of them. and generally just a lot of very nice sweaters, and there are a lot of dark grays and blues in his closet with the occasional green. he always dresses his best, he wouldn’t be caught dead leaving his house in like, a t shirt and jeans. whether or not he’s actually wealthy, he certainly dresses like he is, he pours all of his money into high quality coats and scarves and nice shoes

Twilight: Dean Winchester. Next. (but seriously, the jeans, boots, plain gray shirt and a flannel is EXACTLY how he’d dress)

Sky: Whatever he’s got on, he looks so fucking comfortable. Definitely big fluffy sweaters, I know he’s a guy who likes to be snug and cozy because why face the horrors of the world without feeling like your sweater is giving you a mom hug? I can see him in a lot of white, ivory, orange, brown, and green. Not super bright colors, he definitely has a sort of fall vibed color pallet and sense of style

Hyrule: He’s the personification of those “forest core” outfit collage boards you see on pintrest but he’s not just doing it for aesthetic, it’s all functional. Like he has a little bag he keeps tied to his belt because he goes out and hunts for berries or mushrooms in the woods. he has a leather bound journal that also clips to the belt because he likes writing about what he finds in the woods. He’s your friend who calls you after going missing for four hours like “hey can you come pick me up?” and when you get to his location he’s covered in dirt and says “i got lost…”

Legend: his EXACT style varies quite a bit, but he’d define it as alt. he wears skirts a lot, not all the time but a lot, and has a lot of layers and jewelry. he definitely will go on pissed off rants about how he got bullied for his clothes in middle school and high school and he’s mad that now people are dressing alt because they think its “quirky” and buying things like bags or pants with patches and pins already on them, and he will rant about this twice a week. hes sick and tired of getting called emo not because hes against being emo, it just seriously annoys him when people see someone with dyed hair wearing dark clothes and call them emo based on that alone

Wild: It depends on the days activities, but he likes to look cute. Lots of pretty hairstyles and earrings, bright colors too. DEFINITELY A BIG PANTS LITTLE SHIRT KINDA GUY, and he’s absolutely made a few of his outfits by hand. and ofc he has “gremlin outfits” for when he goes off exploring with Hyrule

Four: Similar to Time with the band shirt + jeans combo, but on the opposite end of the spectrum because he’s bright and colorful. He’s also the most likely to walk around with a shirt with mothman on it and then when people ask him about it talk about it as if he 100% believes mothman is not only out there, but there to get HIM specifically no matter where he goes on the planet

Wind: memes. he has tshirts with memes on them, and he’s the most likely to wear fandom merch and stuff like that. he’s 13/14 he doesn’t put a whole lot of thought into what he’s got on, he’s just against shoes. he’s the one kid who’s always got sandals on even if its fucking snowing because he’s anti socks and shoes

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #jes talks #jes headcanons

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nyasiaaaaa · 1 year

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In the Bleak-Mid Winter

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem reader (Nurse)

Summary: This is a story about two people who become constants in each others lives, and eventually fall for each. While one learns to love again, the other learns the cost of loving a man like him.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Cursing, Tommy eating, Mr.Campbell, sexual harassment, reader eats, Thomas Shelby ( If I missed anything or you think something should be added please tell me.) ( Also Y/N is on dick, IDKY she acts like this)

A/N: part 1 takes place during season two, part 2/3 season 3 and 4/5/6 season 4. This is a Slow burn there will be smut eventually.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

*******************************************

You heard the paramedics before you saw them; you were sitting at the nurse's station having a late dinner amongst the other nurses when they burst through the door shouting.

"Male, early thirties, beaten severely, Bp 80/60, in and out of consciousness"

You had rushed over and led them to the next available room in the ER; so you and the doctor may start your examination. The doctor surprisingly showed up with the emergency instead of half an hour later. The paramedics set the man down on the gurney and got out of your way, but not before calling the man lying in front of you by name and assuring him that he was in good hands.

'Wait" you yelled after the paramedic, making them stop and face you

"You know this man, your family … or friend," you asked as you prepared a bucket of warm water with soap.

"No, miss, he's not friend nor family; I just recognized him, is all." the paramedic responded with a tight smile.

"And his name," you asked cause you didn't catch it the first time he said it.

"Thomas"

You thanked the man before turning back to your patient. You started to wipe away the blood and mud that caked his face making him unrecognizable, to the point where you were confused about how that gentleman had recognized him.

You continued down his body, cleaning him up where need be so the doctor could assess and work properly. As you cleaned a nasty cut along his bruised ribs, he began to stir, and his eyes opened.

"Sir, hi, do you know your name," the doctor asked him as he flashed a light in and out of his eyes

The doctor waited, but the man didn't answer, that's when the doctor looked towards you for help.

You grab the mans hand, squeezing it, causing him to look in your direction; you smile gently at him before asking him, slowing.

"Sir, do you know your name"

"M- my my name," he whispered, out of breath

"Yes sir, do you know it" You squeezed his hand again, encouraging him along

"It's Thomas"

"Very good," you praised him

"My name is Thomas Shelby."

You froze right in your tracks, dropping his hand and stepping back. You heard the doctor praise him for getting it right before asking questions about his pain, medical history, and allergies.

The doctor waved his hand towards you, motioning towards you to write his responses down, but you didn't even acknowledge him. You couldn't even move.

Thomas Shelby, thee Thomas Shelby. The most dangerous man in Birmingham is lying on your table with his life in your hands.

It was starting to all make sense now, why the paramedics knew him but didn't associate himself with him, why the doctor had rushed over so quickly to care for him.

You then realize that If this man dies, then you die.

That was all you needed to hear; you grabbed your clipboard, pulled yourself together, and began to write down the things you heard. The doctor finished his assessment, and told Thomas he would come back shortly to take him to surgery, and he would have the nurse give him a couple of papers to sign while he waited.

You rearranged the papers on your clipboard, putting the ones he needed to sign in front, then grabbed an IV and Morphine bag to set up a line. You handed him the clipboard as you put the bags on the hanger and began to put gloves on.

"What that," he asked, his head nodding towards the two bags as he turned the pages signing each of them before looking at you directly in your eyes.

"I -i-its a-a mo-morphi-e dr-drip a-and an IV ba-bag.”

You might have spoken more clearly if he wasn't staring at you with those eyes. It wasn't like what you had thought. You always thought that if you ever looked this man in the eyes, it would be no different than looking at the devil himself, especially after all the stories you have heard and the people you've seen who have been sent to the hospital in body bags after their dealings with him.

You expected to see hundreds of souls trapped behind his eyes, but instead, you just see a man, nothing more, just a man.

"Your papers," Thomas said, handing you back your clipboard as he looked at you looking at him.

"T-Thank you," you replied, tearing away your gaze as you walked towards the end of his bed, placing the clipboard along the edge.

You then walked back up to him, took his arm, and searched for a vein before placing the IV.

You flashed him a smile before snatching your gloves off and waking out of the room for much-needed air.

You walked till you were out of his sight, then you pressed your back against the wall before sliding down it all the way and placing your head in between your knees.

You breathed in and held it before breathing out; you repeated this action four more times before you started to calm down. You sat there for a few more seconds before the doctor returned with more people to begin moving Thomas to surgery.

"You think you can scrub in, or do you need a minute," the doctor said to you, his voice laced with annoyance.

You nodded your head as you stood up and followed him. You ignored his comment toward you as you had understood that this man holds Thomas Shelby's life in his hands, and there is no room for him to fail.

When you came into the room, the other nurse had already started to change Thomas into a gown and put a net on his head. You went around the gurney and flipped the stoppers on the wheels so that you may move it when ready.

Soon he was all changed, and it was time to move. You had placed yourself at the head of the bed while the other two nurses stood at the side.

"Let's go," you said as the three of you began pushing Mr.Shelby down the hall toward the surgery wing.

As you walked down the hall, you tried your hardest to not look down, even though you felt eyes on you, burning you as they looked at you. You tried to keep your eyes straight, but you couldn't and decided to look down. And when you did, you saw his bright blue eyes staring right back at you.

His eyes are intense and chilling, yet you still stare at him as he stares at you. But his stare has more meaning behind it; he's looking at you curiously, even turning his head to, what you guess, is to get a look at your name tag.

You break away your eyes from his as you hit the doors to the surgical wing pushing them open. You push him toward his room before leaving to wash up for his surgery as the other nurses get him ready and into place.

After scrubbing up, you dry your hands before placing fresh gloves on them. And walking over to Mr.Shelby and sitting on a stool at his head.

"Ok, Mr.Shelby, we're about to start your surgery. Today you are having surgery on your liver and kidney, which both have ruptured. I'm going to place the mask on your face and have you count back from ten, ok," You say to him as you set up the oxygen and gas machine for him.

He nodded his head, and you processed to place the mask on his face and nodded towards him to begin counting backward.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six….."

You secured the mask before standing on the opposite side of the doctor.

The surgery took four hours when It was only meant to take two; most of the time, Doctor Brown was on his game, but today, You had assumed that it was because of who the patient was that he was nervous and stressed himself out. But that wasn't the case; he became sloppy, too sloppy, to the point where you had to take over, finish and close-up. And when you had gone over to his side to take over, you had smelled it, on his breath, Whiskey. You couldn't believe that he would take a drink before performing surgery on a patient. You m didn't say anything though and simply left it as if it was him being nervous that he held Thomas Shelby's life in his hands.

****************

The next time you saw Thomas awake was when you went into his room to check his vitals.

“ Good Morning Mr.Shebly; how are we doing today,” You asked as you garbed his wrist, checking his heart rate and writing it down before moving to check his blood pressure with the wrap.

“ Thomas and Fine”

“ Well, Mr.Shelby, that’s Great to hear; how’s your pain on a scale from one to ten,” you asked as you wrote down his blood pressure and moved on to check his IV and Morphine bag.

“ Thomas and 7”

“ Mkay, you can turn up your morphine drip with this dial “ You stopped taking to show him the action of the cord before continuing, “ And I see you haven’t eaten …….. Thomas.”

“ I can tell you know who I am, so you know that I can not eat any old food brought up by any old nurse.”

“ Well, I assure you the food isn’t poisoned.”

“ Please do; go ahead and have a bite.”

“ Sure,” You said with a smile as you reached down and grabbed the spoon before scooping up some mashed potatoes and bringing them to your lip.

You were about to take a bite when you thought about it; this is Thomas Shebly, Birmingham's very own gangster; he probably has a lot of enemies.

They could be in the hospital right now or were when they poisoned his food. You looked down at the spoon before looking over at him.

“ I will get you a new trey made by me personally,” You said as you gathered your things and the tray and headed for the door.

“ And how do I know I can trust you,” he asked with a straight face

“ Why would I save your life and perform surgery on you just to kill you a couple hours later.”

He responded with a nod in agreement

“ Oh, and Thomas, you a visitor a Mr.Campbell, shall I send him in”

“ Yes”

You let the door shut behind you as you walked down the hall, briefly stopping at Mr.Campbell to tell him that Thomas may see him now before going down the steps to the kitchen.

The closer you got to the basement, the louder it got, people, yelling, pans slamming against each other, and the smell of piss and bleach was so strong it made you gag and shiver.

The kitchen was the first door on the right. You entered and immediately regretted it. Two rather large men were in the kitchen; though you don’t come down here often, you know that you’ve never seen these men in this hospital anywhere and that they weren’t the chefs.

“ Can I help you miss?” the shorter of the two men asked

“ Um, a patient of mine didn’t receive his food, Ive come down to retrieve him some.” You replied, your eyes shifting between the two as you walked up to the window in the wall.

“ Which, uh…. I mean, what’s your patient's name” the taller one asked as he stood up from leaning against the wall.

“ W-why”

“ Standard procedure,” the taller one said to you, shrugging his shoulders as he stepped closer.

You thought for a second and came to the conclusion that you would instead give this strange man a name than pick a fight you most certainly can’t win.

“It's for Mr.Shelby, Thomas Shelby”

“ Ah, Mr.Shelby, ok, one meal coming right up,” The short one said as he turned to grab a plate and began putting food on it.

You tried to watch him carefully as he fixed the plate, but the taller man stepped in front of you, blocking your view and taking up the whole window.

He bent down to your eye level before he began talking.

“ What’s a pretty nurse like you doing down here? You don’t run food.”

His breath reeked of cigarettes and rum, making your face scrunch up in disgust before stepping back.

“ All the food runners were busy, and Mr.Shebly needed food; I don’t mind doing another job; I’m happy to help.”

You realized that now that you’re not as close, you can see more, not much, but you did see when the other man sprinkled something all over Thomas's food before giving everything a quick mix.

You look back only to catch the tall man looking at you, well, more like at your body, which you were very grateful for, seeing as you didn’t get caught.

“ Oi, here’s the food, miss,” The shorter man said, handing you the plate after the taller one moved out of the way.

“ Thank you,” you said before scarring off.

You dumped the food in the trash in the hall before jogging upstairs; you passed the nurse's station before turning right back around and reaching under the station table to grab your paper bag with your lunch.

Then you headed straight for Thomas's room. You opened the door and closed it behind you locking it.

You see Thomas sitting on the bed, struggling to bring his cigarette to his lips.

You walk over and place your bag on the bed before snatching it out of Thomas's hands and taking a hit of it yourself. You breathe in the cig and pace the floor several times before blowing it out.

“ What, what happened,” Thomas asked

“ Two men in the kitchen, they didn’t belong. I know that for a fact; one blocked my view as they fixed your plate, and I swear, I fuckin swear I saw him put something in it,” you said, looking at him before taking another long drag and putting the cig back in his hands.

You begin to pace again, not feeling yourself calm down despite taking a couple of drags of the cig; you still don’t know why people smoke them things.

“ And,” Thomas began as he pressed his lips to the cig before taking a long drag and breathing it out, “ Where is the food now.”

“ I threw it out, of course; I’m not gonna get blamed for making a hit on Thomas Shelby,” you said, throwing your hands up as you looked at him with your head cocked to the side, confusion written all over your face.

Thomas took another long drag before saying, “ Welp, problem solved.”

“ H-how can you be so cool about this? They tried to kill you.”

“ Darlin, I’m in here cause someone tried to kill me, it's not the first, and it's not the last time,” he said before taking one last drag and putting the cig out.

He looked at you momentarily before tilting his head and pointing toward the brown bag at the edge of his bed.

“ Oh, since we can’t trust the food, I’ve brought you my lunch, which we know is not poisoned. And before you decline, you going to be needing your strength. I’m assuming that you will be cutting your time here short.” You said as you took the food out of the bag and walked over to the stove in the room.

“It's soup, so I must heat it; while it's heating, I’ll pack a goody bag of bandages and cleaning wipe, some morphine too; when do you think you’ll be out of here.” You asked as you filled the pot with the soup before placing it on the burner and turning it on.

“ I’ll be out by tonight.”

Your head snapped over to look at him

“ What,” he asked

“It's just too far too soon for a man with injuries like yours to be traveling

on foot, are you going far”

“ Far enough”

“ I’ll help you to where ever you are going,” you said, walking back over to his bed.

“ And why should I trust you.”

“ Well, let’s see, I just saved your life, and like you said, Mr.Shebly, I know who you are and what you do. And I’ve decided that I’d rather have you as a friend than an enemy,” You said before walking over to the door, unlocking it, stepping out, shutting it behind you, and locking it again.

You then heading off to collect supplies.

By the time you got back, the soup was ready, and you poured it back into the bowl and brought it over to Thomas, who tried to sit up but was too weak and fell back into the bed. You quicken your pace to him and set the bowl on the table before helping him sit up.

“ Slow down; you mustn’t tear your stitches,” You told him, placing pillows behind his back and helping him sit up.

He reaches for the soup but winches again in pain, he tries again, but you slap his hand.

“ Let me, “ you said as you picked up the bowl from the table

“ No, I can feed myself. “

“ Obviously not, now open wide,” you say as you dip the spoon in the bowl and hold it to his lips.

He just looks at you with a straight face; you drop the spoon back into the bowl.

“ I’m sorry,” you say with a light laugh, “ but please, you need to eat” You bring the spoon out of the bowl again before placing it into his mouth.

You stay silent as he eats, repeating your actions over and over again. Bringing the spoon down to the bowl and scooping up some soup before bringing it to his lip. You do this while looking up, down, at the soup, and then at him, all while his eyes stay on you.

Soon you are on your last spoonful of soup, and you accidentally cause some soup to run down his lip as you had pulled it out too soon. You immediately grab a napkin bringing it up to his chin.

“ Sorry, I-“ he cuts you off, grabbing your writs, stopping it mid-air, looking you right in your eyes.

“ I’ve got it,” he said as he grabbed the napkin from your hands before wiping his chin, then licked his lips.

Your eyes trail down his face onto his body, slowly as you study every part of him, taking your time before returning to his face. And still, his eyes are on you, lookin' at you as you look at him.

“ Do you want to fuck” he asked

You panicked

“What? No, I was just c-checking on your body like, umm, you cut and bruises to make sure everything looked good,” you said while standing up, taking the bowl with you, and placing it back in your brown sack.

“ Well…. Um, you leave tonight. I will be back to help you get dressed after my shift. We can go; I, uh, have other patients to check on, so I’ll be back then, and I’ll keep the door locked, ok.” You say, keeping your eyes on the ground as you collect your things and made haste towards the door. You quickly open the door shutting it and locking it before leaning against it.

This is Thomas Shelby, a cold-hearted killer, you tried to convince yourself. But man is that man easy on the eyes. You blow out a puff of air before placing your things back under the table at the nurse's station and walking off to check on your other patients.

**************

You finished your work quickly and got off earlier than anticipated; it was around 10 when you headed towards Thomas Way.

You unlocked his room and entered; you didn’t bother turning on some light; the moon provided enough light, and you were trying not to draw attention to yourselves.

You slowly walked over to him; he was sleeping on his back; you got up close to him before whispering.

“ Thomas…… Thomas wakes up” You reached down towards him to shake him a bit “ Thom-“

He reached up and grabbed your wrist, but unlike last time, it wasn’t gentle. You struggled to free your hand from his grip as you pulled back while he looked at you, confused.

“ Thomas, it's me, please” You let a cry slip as you tried to get him to understand. It was clear that Thomas wasn’t all the way there.

“ Thomas,” you said a bit louder, causing him to let go of your wrist.

He shook his head and looked down before looking back up at you and your wrist, which you now cradled in your other hand

“ I-Im so-“ You cut him off before he finished

“It's fine, come on, sit up,” you said as you grabbed his shoulder, guiding him the way you wanted him to sit.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed before you walked towards the back room to gather his clothes and walked back.

You placed his top on the bed before getting on your knees to put his socks and pants on. This time you heard no complaint from him as you helped him. After you put on his socks, you scrunched up his pants legs before putting them around his ankles.

You then pulled them up to his thighs as far as they would go before clearing your throat. He then stood up, and you stood up with him slowly pulling the pants up as you went. He almost fell when he stood tall, catching himself before he did so using your shoulder to balance himself.

You pulled the pants to his waist, tugging a bit before zipping them up and buttoning them. You keep your head down, even though you want to look up; you feel his eyes on you, looking down at you. His whole body towering over you. It was equally as inviting as it was intimidating.

He moved his hand slowly down your arm

to your wrist. He took it into his hands and brushed over it softly.

“ I’m sorry.”

His words made you look up at him

“It’s fine.”

He drops your wrist, and you reach down and pick up his shirt, bunching it up in your hands as you stand on your tippy toes to place it over his head.

He bent down to help you carefully slip his arm into his shirt before pulling it down and tucking it into his pants. You then click his suspender into place before slipping them over his shoulder.

After you get back on your knees, place his shoes on his feet and tie them. When you finished, you helped him put his coat on. You grab the rest of the things you packed for him and place them in a bag before tucking them in his coat.Lastly, you grab his hat, place it on his head, pulling it down to cover his face more.

“ Ok, so we’ll stop at the nurse station so I can grab my thing, then we’ll head towards the back of the hospital to leave; that way, no one will see you,” You say as you start walking towards the door.

You walk out the door and towards the station, grabbing your coat, placing it on, then your purse, before walking to the backend of the hospital.

You grab Thomas's hand, pulling him closer as you begin to approach the final long stretch of hallway.

“ I have to keep you close so people will assume we’re together.” You say

“ Why,” he asks

“ Cause …….. “ you trail off, “this part of the hospital is where people bring others to have…… a good time. That’s why it's the perfect place to leave. There’s no security and no one’s concerned with who comes and goes.”

“ Ah, so you do what to fuck”

You immediately stop in track and face him,

“I do not Im trying to “ You stop mid-sentence when you see a slight smile on his face. He’s joking, trying to ease the heavy tension between you two.

You grab his hand again, pulling him along the rest of the way, ignoring the people in your peripheral who are getting to know each other. You finally get to the door pushing it open and are greeted with a rush of cold air.

You and Thomas step out of the hospital into the south parking lot, which is entirely empty. You look at Thomas, waiting for him to lead the way; he wraps his arm around you, placing some of his weight on you as he starts walking.

“ Is it far where we’re going?” you ask, looking up at your breath dancing in the air.

“ No, not far, 30 minutes at most”

Besides the occasional whine from Thomas, the rest of your walk is quiet. As you near your destination, or you assumed cause, Thomas asks you, “ You live near here or far? If so, I’ll have one of my men walk you home.”

“ Oh, now I have peaky protection; this friendship is starting off better than I thought. But yeah, I live close no need for a chaperone, though. I’ve lived in Birmingham all my life. I know how to take care of myself.”

And that’s the end of that conversation; soon, you approach some gates to a well-known boatyard.

“ We’ve arrived,” you asked

“ We have; I can make it from here,” he says, and you let him go

“ Very well, Thomas, till next time, bye.”

He nods his head towards you and says your name before walking away. Your heart skips a beat never having heard him say your name till now, and you never told him. You can only assume that he read your name tag at some point. You flash him a smile before walking home.

Since you got home late that night, you didn’t have to sneak in to avoid your landlord. You were a couple of weeks behind on rent, the hospital didn’t pay well, and these apartments were a bit out of your reach, but they were the only ones that were halfway decent and not rat infested.

The next couple of days, you continued to work double shifts so you could make enough money from rent. Every day, people asked you if you were ok, you had been forgetting to complete things and messing small tasks up.

This was unlike you, but every time you let yourself think, your mind would drift off to Thomas. You kept rethinking every moment you were together, replaying every moment like it was a scene from a movie.

Eventually, you were told to take the rest of the day off; people assumed you were too tired to concrete, seeing that you had worked doubles for the last three days. You didn’t protest because you had to admit you were pretty tired.

When you arrived home, you wished you had fought the people at the hospital a little more.

As soon as you walked into your building, you ran into your landlord, who was collecting his mail from his box.

“ Sir, good afternoon. I don’t have your money now, but soon, I will have it in full soon, and I shall give it to you no later than next week.”

His body wasn’t facing you, and he didn’t answer you, so you reached out and touched his shoulder.

“ Sir ?”

“ Huh, oh, it's you; I hope you weren’t talking to me; I don’t mean to be rude. My ears haven’t been working the best of late.”

He was talking, but you weren’t really paying attention; he had some nasty fresh bruises on his face, cuts above his eyes, swollen eyes, and a busted leaking lip that he kept bringing a towel up to dab.

“ Sir, what happened? And I said I will have my rent to you by next week.”

“ Oh no, I’m fine, just some bumps and bruises, and no need to have the rent to me; from now on, you live here for free,” he said and started to walk off.

“ But sir, wait, I don’t understand why,” you asked, yelling after him

“ What was it that them peaky boys had said” Your eyes immediately widened; you had caused this. “Oh yeah, the rent for the girl is free, or the house burns down.”

You were about to apologize, but he had already returned to his apartment. You stood there for a good minute before heading upstairs and fixing some tea and food.

You sat down and ate your snack, staring at the wall as you sipped your tea. Then you laughed and kept laughing; your landlord was a horrible man who once tried to get you to offer sex as payment, and by getting, he locked you out of your apartment until you had his rent, you had only been a day late when he did it, and it took you a week to get his money. You had to sneak into your apartment through the window every night and leave out the same way every morning.

He got what was coming for him, with his crazy rent prices like we live in the city.

You smiled; this becoming friends thing with Thomas was already working for you. You had hoped that, that wasn’t the last time you saw Thomas.

And it wasn’t.

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fanfic #oppenheimer #cillian x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x oc #cillian murphy fanfiction #john shelby #arthur shelby

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pinkeoni · 1 year

Text

Oh. “Zombie Boy” is a homophobic nickname

I guess this should’ve been pretty obvious. I mean, Will is a confirmed gay character, who is walking around town and having a mean nickname constantly hurled at him. Clearly there is some queercoding in that.

But does that mean that the nickname is homophobic in universe? If that were the case, why not just call him homophobic slurs in the first place?

The nickname Zombie Boy always was kind of strange to me as well. Why make fun of a kid for coming back to life? Wouldn’t that be a cool thing? Maybe it’s a little odd, but why be so mean about it?

Unless it’s not the only thing they’re making fun of him for

TW for discussion of rape below cut

To understand the intent behind the Zombie Boy nickname, we need to go back to Will’s dissapearance in season one. Our boy Troy lays it out pretty plainly what everyone in town thinks happened to Will.

Not just that Will was killed, but clarified as “killed by some other queer.” The emphasis on sexuality adding an implication to his statement. What Troy is really trying to say is that Will was raped and then killed by a gay man, otherwise why bring up sexuality at all?

And to be fair to Troy, that is kind of what happened.

But of course the town doesn’t know this. The story that was told is that Will only got lost in the woods. That was the story published in the Hawkins Post, so that’s what everyone believes, right?

This is the version of events that Lucas tells Max, and he is immediately met with skepticism from her. Lucas then tells Max not to ask Will about it because he’s very sensitive about it.

I’m not saying that the town believes that there is something supernatural going on, but rather I’m thinking that the people of Hawkins at least suspect that there is something about Will’s disappearance that is not being talked about openly. Let’s not forget that the “Zombie Boy” note that Will receives in his locker is a desecration of the news article sharing his story.

So here’s what the town initially believed happened: Will was kidnapped and raped by a gay man before being thrown into the quarry.

And here’s what the town knows: Will went missing and was found in the woods before being hospitalized. He is very sensitive about the topic and doesn’t like to talk about it. After being released from the hospital, he is now occasionally pulled out of school early for doctor’s appointments—

Oh.

I mean, it is any coincidence that all of this is happening while Reagan’s name is plastered all over town? Is it just a coincidence that the anniversary of Will’s disappearance falls right on Reagan’s reelection day?

And just to cut through all the shit and stop being vague, I’m talking about the AIDS epidemic of the 80’s, and yes I think that part of the town believes that Will has it.

I recently read a post from @emblazons that struck me with just how laden the AIDS metaphor is in season. To quote the post as best I can, there is something described like a disease attacking Will’s body and slowly killing him, and the Reagan administration government scientists are trying their best to prevent the truth from spreading and view the possible death of a queer person as a non-issue.

Starting to think about it through this lens, a “zombie” is the perfect metaphor for how Hawkins now views Will. He isn’t technically dead, but they suspect he has a disease with an incredibly low life-expectancy at the time, so he’s essentially a walking corpse.

The nickname doesn’t start and end at simply making fun of Will for having a disease. What do zombies do? They try to bite and turn other people into zombies.

The town doesn’t just see Will as someone who has been infected by someone else with an illness, but as someone who has been infected and is going to spread his illness around.

The rhetoric regarding queers as people who spread disease and kill continues in season 4, when we see Eddie reading the article that links sodomy with satanic practices, violence and murder. We then go on to see the entire town blame Eddie and his group of “satanic” outcasts for spreading death in the town. This attitude is certainly not lost on Hawkins, and the show doesn’t shy away from showing it.

The way that characters in the show use and react to Zombie Boy match this as well. There is a certain level of vitriol that comes with Zombie Boy, and the nickname is what leads Jonathan and Will into their extremely coded conversation about being a freak.

If Zombie Boy is an intentionally homophobic nickname, then does that mean that in this scene she's actually saying...?

So I actually don’t think that Snowball Girl is being intentionally homophobic here (although, saying what is essentially “Hey f*****, wanna dance?” is still CRAZY)

I think it’s less realistic if the entire town is in on this conspiracy and more believable if say, the nickname was started intentionally as a homophobic jab by some of the townsfolk, but is ambiguous enough to be picked up by more naïve kids like Snowball Girl who may not realize the actual meaning behind it. It may seem like it’s only about his ressurection on the surface, but when you peel back the layers you see just how offensive it really is.

Using a vague nickname is also very intentional by the Duffers as well. If they wanted to be subtle about Will’s sexuality before later confirming it, then having a more ambiguous moniker rather than just having the entire town call him an evil queer.

Even if the town really is just making fun of him for coming back to life and nothing else, and there isn’t actually this rampant rumor spreading across Hawkins about Will spreading disease, the heavy coding and intention from the writers is still be there.

#also not mentioned but note: those girls staring at Will as he is leaving for his doctors appointment #even if it is purely metaphor #its still a metaphor for homophobia!#will byers #stranger things #byler #<- target audience #tw rape

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shamrockqueen · 3 months

Text

The summer of 85

Pairing : Robert Pronge x Reader (80s style)

Warnings : R18, Naughty behavior, caught him by surprise, smut, he hates to see you leave but loves watching you go

Word count : 3167

Chris Evans Masterlist

Robert didn’t particularly like this neighborhood, and he certainly didn’t care for the pressed-shirt types that populated it. But, the house wasn’t expensive, and it suited all of his needs. The way he saw it, as long as he kept his distance from all the white picket fence type of people, he’d do just fine.

He was working on a shitbox car in the attached garage—another cheap purchase, but it did just enough to carry him this far. The summer sun was cooking him in the un-air conditioned space, even with the garage door pulled up to allow the occasional breeze to come in.

Robert cursed upon catching his finger on a poorly placed hole near what he was sure was the carburetor. He jerked back, tossing an oily rag back against the ground in a huff before nursing his sore finger.

He tried to take a breather, wiping his clean hand over his neck. Better to clear away the sweat that had built up on his skin before stepping away from the mess. He went into the driveway to catch that bit of breeze that rolled past the house, and it didn’t come alone.

You were riding past the house on your bike, hair blown back in the wind and the sun kissing your exposed skin. It was the first thing that caught his eye, with the last being your cutoff denim shorts tightly hugging your ass.

You had ole Robert turning his head just as you passed his trash bins. It wasn’t until you rolled your pedals back to brake, coming to a solid stop as your shoe hit the pavement. He quickly averted his eyes the second they connected with yours, leaving him to miss the small and mischievous smile that pulled along your lips.

You caught the moment he dared to look back at you, giving him a friendly wave. He stared back for a second, confused by any actual neighborly behavior, let alone from someone like you.

He waved back before you turned away, watching as you kicked back off the road and cycled away. You left him with just the short memory of your shapely figure working over a blue cruiser bicycle.

He tried to clear his mind by putting his focus back on the car, but he never made much progress. He was quickly admitting defeat after an hour of fucking around with it.

Tossing his tools back in their box, he reached for the pull cord to yank the door to the garage closed when he heard a familiar spin of bicycle spokes. He spared a glance out at the road and was surprised by a familiar face.

You were off your bike this time, choosing instead to roll it along the road.

He offered another wave, much like you had upon your first passing, only this time you spoke back to him in return.

“Hello”

Your voice sounded sweet, even airy, and it easily caught Robert off guard. “Uh, hey there.”

“What's your name?” You chirped back.

“Me?” He mouthed back, barely audible. You recognized the gesture all the same.

“Is there someone else in there with you? You laughed.

He scoffs before answering the previous question. “My name’s Robert.”

“Do you have a bike pump, Robert?” You asked.

“What?” It was all he'd given back as a response, somewhat dumbfounded as to why the hell you were even talking to him in the first place.

“Do you..” you began to repeat, only to be cut off midway.

“I heard you; I just…why?” He finally spit out the question. Why?

Why were you smiling at him, battering your lashes in his direction? Why were you even giving him a second glance, let alone asking him for anything?

“My tire went flat.” You say as you roll your bike closer, crossing onto his concrete driveway and overstepping an invisible boundary.

Robert didn’t answer again, standing mostly agast with the garage cord still in between his fingers. He doesn’t know how to talk to gentle young things like you, and he gaped at the absurdity of the conversation like a fish out of water.

“You don’t want to help me, Robert?” You said with a soft pout as you dug the toe of your shoe side to side on the concrete.

He counters back quickly, although his words end up being fumbled. “No…I.” He had to think for a second, “I can help; just give me a second,” and with that, he pushed the garage door back up and turned back to look for the needed bike pump.

You follow him inside, rolling your bike alongside you as he disappears behind the car. It annoyed him a little bit that you didn’t just stay put; in fact, you seemed to linger just a little too closely for his own comfort.

You’re just a peach, and he’s anything but sweet.

Your skin was a little sweaty from your afternoon ride, giving you an unearthly glow. He, on the other hand, felt grungy from the perspiration that stuck to his clothes and hair after working with the car.

He’s digging for anything that resembles a bike pump. He had agreed without thinking about whether he actually had one. Yet, low and behold, just the right item was found buried within some unpacked boxes.

“So you’re new around here?” You asked, a sweet lilt to your voice as you ignored any of the negativity in his body language.

“Uh, yeah. Moved in a month or two ago.” He answered back as he tried to focus on the task at hand.

You bounded back over, nearly splayed across his shoulder, as you watched him examine the tire for any holes. He did find another reason for it to have gone flat.

“Shit, it looks like the cap for the air valve is missing. It’ll just run out of air aga…”

“Oh, here you go.” You quickly and conveniently pulled the little black cap from your shorts pocket, holding it out for him to take.

Robert is well confused as to why it’s in your pocket instead of on your bike, but as his brows knit together, he found he didn’t care to ask. He only wanted to get this shit done. It was hard enough to work while trying to keep an eye on the beautiful creature that had just invaded his space.

“So, what made you decide on this neighborhood?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels as you stood back up from your hunched position.

You toed around his garage as he pumped the bike tire out of his line of vision but not his mind.

“Uh, I don’t know. The house was cheap, I guess.” He answered back.

You ran your finger along the dusty lines in a small fridge at the corner of the garage as you continued to speak. “Meet any other neighbors?”

“Uh, no. Hey, I’m trying to do this, so if you could..yeah.” He couldn’t string together the precise words, but his meaning came through. He wanted you to cut out whatever the hell you were doing where he couldn’t see.

Not that you would actually listen, but you did give him a sassy “Sor-ry.”

“Thank you for helping me. I promise I’ll be very appreciative.” You said as you cracked the door open on the little fridge, feeling the cool air on your shins, before leaning down to look at its contents. The sound only just made him stop tinkering with the bike and toss you a glance over his shoulder. It wasn’t until he heard the ‘pst’ of someone cracking open a can of his beer that it spurred him back onto his feet.

“Hey, get the fuck out of there!” He yells behind his shoulder before fully standing. He watched, fuming a little, as you brought the open can to your lips for a taste.

He rushed across the small garage to rip the cab from your fingers, shouting out, “What the fuck do you think you're doing?!” before knocking the cab down instead.

It spilled out over the both of you, coating your clothes and his hands.

“Jesus, god damn it!” As he shakes the beer from his fingers as he sets the now empty can aside, trying not to just throw it at you.

You only gave a little “oh no” as you pulled at your now wet clothes.

He was already tearing at his soggy t-shit to pull it free from his body, not wanting anymore sticky skin. You followed suit, pulling your top over your head and letting your soft and unencumbered breasts fall free from the fabric. A cool breeze blew through from the opening of the garage, making your bare buds perk up against the chill.

Robert was at a loss for even a single thought at the sight of you. That breeze is the first thing to snap him back into reality. He’s at a loss as to what to do first: cover you up or shut the garage so no other neighbors could see the display you’d made.

He moves quickly now, jumping after the cord for the garage door and yanking it down until it hits the cement with a hard clunk.

He turned back as you began to unbutton your shorts to free yourself from the wet denim. He has to rush over and grab the hem of your shorts just to keep you from slipping them down your body and completely exposing yourself to him.

He shouts out at you with “What the fuck are you doing?”

“My clothes got dirty.” You say this as if it were a matter of fact, like this was something completely normal to do in the presence of a strange man.

“What?!” Robert was entirely confused, half certain that none of this could be reality. Surely he had passed out from the heat, and this was some gorgeous fever dream.

“You spilled beer on my clothes; I have to take them off.” You spoke softly, more demure as you slid your hands over his as he gripped your undone jeans. You were gentle, especially compared to the stiffening of his muscles as you ran your nails lightly up and down his arms.

When Robert wasn’t immediately responsive, you taped at the nose piece of his glasses, pushing them up his face as you taunted him. "Geez, you’re thick.”

You had gotten close, nearly tickling the tip of his nose with yours.

“You know, I was hoping to say that when I actually got your pants off.”

You were devious. You had never seen ‘Robert’ in the neighborhood before and you sure as hell hadn’t seen any moving trucks to signal a new neighbor's presents in your cozy little burb. He looked wild, messy long hair, wide shoulders and a thick air of aggravation around him. The muscles in his neck had tightened as he had fought against the inner workings of his car.

You had thought you had a shot, but he had seemed so unreceptive. You definitely didn’t account for the spilling of the beer you had taken, but you worked it in your favor.

He simply puffed out a sharp breath, looking down at your exposed skin and realizing the absurdity of fighting against you. It was the first time he actually stopped to ask himself why he was trying to stop you.

He let you take his hands in yours, helping him push the wet denim down your body until they finally fell to the dusty floor before you kicked them away.

His voice was much more subdued, almost weak, as you cornered him against the side of his car. “What the hell are you doing?” He spoke more in awe this time. He was never this lucky, so you’d have to excuse his consistent skepticism.

You smiled once his hands had left the hem of your shorts and spread along your bare skin. You nuzzled over his cheek, leaning in to ghost your lips along the scruff of his mustache and beard. Whispering lowly, “I think you know exactly what I’m doing,” before finally stealing a heated little kiss.

It was quick, even searing. Even within this sweltering garage, he made your skin flush even hotter. At first, he hadn’t been as receptive as you’d hoped he would be, but as he pressed into the kiss you knew he’d finally come around.

Robert completely switched, becoming more aggressive with the way he handled you as he dragged his teeth over your lower lip before sucking it between them. You smiled with a happy whine as his mouth tore away to pepper sloppy, desperate kisses over your jaw and along your neck and shoulder.

Your fingers spread over his wide shoudlers, pulling him closer until his chest was squished against your plush breasts. His hands gripped either side of your waist, holding on tight as if you could fly away at any moment.

His fingers didn't wander over the parts of your body where you needed them the most. Out of a little frustration, you basically had to grab his digits too harshly so as to guide him to drag them over your hip. His hand didn't want to leave your soft flesh, and you laughed as you forced it over your belly and down the front of your panties.

“C’mon, I need you to touch me, Robert.” You sounded impatient, but you were met with an equally needy growl of agreement as it rumbled from his chest.

His fingers kicked into action as soon as a tip touched one of your hidden folds. You hummed with joy, giggling against his lips as you stole another kiss.

His fingers wove through your lower lips to play at your entrance. You’re raking your fingers through his long hair as he’s dragging his thick digits through the soft petals of your soppy cunt.

His left hand traveled further down your body, sliding through the waistband of those lace panties. His right fingers pumped through your wet sex as he fought to gain purchase around the thin material of your underwear. His mind was too preoccupied with bumping his knuckles along your inner walls as he broke his lips away again to bite at your neck. The bruises he’d leave would bloom angry and purple by tomorrow.

An animalistic part of his brain became fed up with this last scrap of fabric as it stuck to your body, and his nails tore through it in protest before he ripped it with a sickening crack of snapping seams. It stayed stuck around the side of your other leg but fell to ribbons alongside the other.

His hands reached further, gripping your by the back of your soft squeezable thighs and hoisted you up so that your sneakers dangled a good 6 inches off the floor.

Your ass crashes against a shabby tool bench that helped to sandwich the two of you next to the car. It came with the house, and he was planning to just chuck it out, but somehow it became incredibly useful.

With you more or less safely perched at cock height, he began tearing apart his belt buckle so he could shimmy his jeans down to his thighs.

“Is this even fucking real?” He growls under his breath, moreso to himself, but you laugh anyway.

His hands were hungry, dragging and clawing over your body. It was as if he needed to memorize its shape, as if by some stroke of terrible luck you could disappear within an instant.

His boxer band is on display before he grabs a handful of cloth and denim to pull it down to his thighs. His cock is more alive than it had been in months, and with the option of real pussy on the line, it was throbbing, bobbing against his stomach as he pulled it free.

“Oh shit. Are you sure?” He still doubted, frustrating you just a little bit more.

You nod back, whimpering, “Yes, yes!”

“You’re not gonna turn back into a pumpkin the second I stick it in, will ya?” He chuckled, finally letting himself relax.

“Oh what, you think you’re fuckin funny all of a sudden?” You say as you wrapped your legs around his back to pull him flush against your lower body.

This time he’s taking the hint and aligning the tip with the soft pink opening of your flower. He nearly wanted to commit the image of it to memory, but for now he couldn’t leave either of you waiting a single second, and he pushed through your tight little opening.

Oh, what a beautiful young lady you were! You were practically flexing around his cock as he pushed further in.

“Fuck Me.” He gritted out as he ground his teeth together.

He fucks you just like that, bent over your splayed body, carefully pumping through your tight channel. He was eager now, paying no mind to your tight expression as he stretched your walls apart.

His hips started to piston back and forth, making the old wooden legs of that work bench creak in protest of the misuse. You were hanging off the edge, one shoed foot propped up by the heel on the side of the bench, and the other grazing against the cement floor in the hopes of balancing itself.

You whine at the tickling and the flutter of his cock dragging along your inner walls, stirring your pussy and making you cry. You sang his name—a tune he’d never thought he’d hear sung from such sweet lips.

The garage is humid, with thick and sticky hot air clouding over you both as he plunged in and out of your wet heat. Each slam of his hips sent a ricochet of something hot, like a satisfying burn shooting up your belly and smoldering against the back of your eyelids.

Each shot of that white-hot bliss built into a waiting inferno until it all burst apart. You nearly couldn’t breathe as you unraveled around him, and he ground his teeth together as his own end neared.

For as fuck drunk as you had made him, he still had some sense to pull himself free from your gushing flower before his cock began to seize. Instead, he spilled out all over your soft belly.

His cock continued to twitch, dribbling out a last few beads of white nectar before beginning to soften.

Robert was fighting to catch his breath while being suffocated by the cloud of heat the two of you had made in that small garage.

“Fuck.” He groaned as he pulled his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face, pushing up his glasses in the process.

You had to push yourself to sit up before carefully hopping down. The cum was still thick and wet, threatening to drip down your stomach and between your legs from the change of position.

“You’ve made me all dirty.” You whined.

“Uh, sorry.” His eyes were lidded, barely registering your words other than those that required an apology from himself.

“Well, I’m gonna need a shower.” You spoke, but he wasn’t really listening anymore. He’s still so dumbfounded as you saunter right for the entrance to his house from the measly little garage.

It took him a minute to regain his bearings; only after taking a breath did he realize that the strange temptress that had bested him was now wandering through his house.

“Wait, a fuckin minute!” He shouted as he ran after you.

@alternativegirl23 (I’m a big fan)

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