#give her boots!! and cover her goddamn chest!!

[kiwisbell]

Boots [joel miller]

Joel doesn't like the idea of someone else gettin' all your best.

pairing: joel miller x female!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: jealous joel giving you a lesson in who really likes you best, birthday sex, (over)protective joel, softie joel, dominant joel, oral sex (m and f receiving), face-sitting, riding, no plot just porn and some fluff because it's me, possessive sex, praise kink, squirting, established relationship

word count: ~ 4.5k

hello, all! i'm beginning to unload my fics onto tumblr for those who prefer reading in this format - and as a result, some of you lovely folks who follow me will likely see works you've already read before. i sincerely apologise for that, but many new projects are in the works as well because i love y'all and i live to please. that aside, if you're new here, welcome, and i hope you enjoy this one-shot!! <3

BOOTS

If there's anything you know about Joel, it's that he can get real angry. 

It ain't like he's always mad. He lives a lot of his life in utter silence, but you like to watch him. Sometimes, in the dark, he sits on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers and bringing them to his chin. He’ll sit like that for hours without moving, barely shifting to take in air, and you know never to shake him from that trance. It’s how you’ve learned to read between the lines. 

After fifteen years by his side, you can gauge his moods better than the weather. He’s got a restless spirit, but his voice is midnight water. It’s calm and dark and clear, and it rumbles: the ripples left behind by skipping stones. He never lashes out at you, never raises his voice. 

Except for that one time in New Jersey. 

“Are you goddamn fuckin’ stupid?”

This was a little while before you could patent your Joel-handling techniques, so you did what any woman would do when a man calls her stupid: you folded your arms over your chest and got just as mad. “Stupid?” you said incredulously. “I saved your ass in there. Multiple asses, actually.”

Above you, the canopy of brilliant red leaves felt like a bloody shawl, and they crackled underfoot. You sported a limp thanks to a sprained ankle and your lip was bloody, but you were fine. Truly. And yet, Joel’s anger was pulsating. You could see it: heat waves, distorting the air around him, his brows flattening over his eyes and his nostrils flaring. A bull ready to charge. He was brimming with the need to release this energy. 

Behind you, a building burned. The fire was a monstrous, lively thing, and it scorched the hairs on the back of your neck. Inside lay the bodies of the men you’d stolen the medical kits from, along with two of your own crew. It was only you and Joel left. It was autumn, and the breeze was welcome in such relentless heat. 

He’d been ambushed just as much as the rest of you, but rotten fuckin’ luck had pinned a man on top of him—armed with a knife, inches from Joel’s eye. Not trusting yourself to make a shot without hitting him, too, you had tackled the man without thinking much. It had worked well enough to send his knife clattering across the burning hut. He’d landed a punch to you before Joel had blown his head clean off. Brain matter still clung to your jeans, but you tried not to look. When you’d rolled the body off you, Joel shot him again. He was covered in blood from his greying hair to his boots.

“Your job is to look out for yourself out there,” he snapped, “not me. The fuck were you thinkin’?”

Your frown only deepened. What had you been thinking? Maybe leaving him to die would teach him a lesson or two about what it was like to fear for someone’s life. Even if it was his own. “We need to go. You can yell at me later.”

Joel didn’t say anything when he kneeled at your feet and lifted your ankle up onto his raised knee. You yelped when you almost toppled over, but he kept you steady and inspected the swollen flesh. He was achingly gentle when he prodded at you, his expression softening into something more like concern. “This hurt?” he asked.

“Of course it hurts, Miller.” You lifted a brow at him, but he wasn’t looking up. “Want me to try on a glass slipper, or can we go?”

“Still think that was stupid,” he grumbled. 

You snorted. “Yeah, well, you’re the only one who can navigate for shit, and I don’t fancy getting lost without my own personal compass.”

When he stood, Joel surprised you some more by gently patting your leg. “Real nice,” he said under his breath, shrugging the strap of your pack farther up your shoulder. “Stay behind me.”

You grinned up at him. “Happily.”

He never gets angry for long. Not at you.

There’s a knock at his door in the rhythm only the two of you know. He still checks the peephole, but it’s you. You slip inside, practically bounding on the balls of your feet, that cute fuckin’ grin on your face as you hide something behind your back. “Guess what day it is,” you say.

Joel will never let it leave this room that he indulges in your stupid game. “Sunday,” he tries.

Your pout is extravagant, but he’ll be damned if it doesn’t make him want to bite it off your pretty mouth. “Rhymes with smirthday. Y’know… the only day I ever ask you for anything.”

He clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

You roll your eyes and bring your hands around from behind your back. You’re holding a cupcake. 

“Holy shit. Where the fuck did you get that?”

“The FEDRA guy who monitors my building likes me,” you tell him, honest as ever. Too honest for this world and too damned sweet to be anything but a liability. And yet, here he is, digging, indulging, sinking his claws in. “Enough to sneak this to me from the kitchen, apparently.”

That makes him feel real fuckin’ grumpy. Nobody with eyes would be enough of a fool to deny that you’re gorgeous, but it doesn’t make him sleep any better knowing other men are chasing that brilliant twinkle in your eyes. He wants to tuck it between his ribs and let it illuminate his insides. He doesn’t want anyone else to see it, not ever.

“He’s tryin’ to make a move on you,” says Joel. “That’s what that is.”

If there’s a second thing you know about Joel, it’s that he lives with his foot in his mouth. Unfailingly. 

You have long since learned the tactics of Joel-handling. You'd be offended if it were anyone else, but you just pat his cheek affectionately. “Sit down.”

To his credit, he does, but not after some grumbling. You scrape the second chair along the floor until it's right next to him. You split the cupcake in two as best you can and pass him one of the halves. Joel eyes it suspiciously. “You sure this is edible?”

You just take a bite and groan. It's been a long time since you've tasted chocolate, let alone the decadence of over-sweet frosting. Joel watches you carefully. Your lashes flutter in your trancelike enjoyment, a small speck of white frosting on the top of your nose. He's overcome with the knowledge that people in this world would try and take you from him. That people have put guns to your head, that they have harmed you, that they'll do it again and again. This world does not leave a woman like you untouched. 

It's a good thing you've got him to make sure the world goes nowhere near you. 

“Got frosting on your nose,” he says gruffly, trying to suppress his smile as he swipes it away with his thumb. “Some killer you are.”

You kick your legs up onto his lap. His thumb idly circles your ankle bone. “I don’t pretend to be a killer. I get by just fine, Miller.”

“Yeah?” He lifts a brow. “And if I wasn’t here?”

You shrug. “Dead, probably.”

Joel takes a bite of the fucking cupcake and he's a little mad when it's not bad. 

You sit at the window on his bed later, your knees drawn up to your chest and your cheek resting atop them. You like to watch the lights of the FEDRA vehicles and the occasional star that winks at you from high above the QZ. You're a pretty sight to look at all the time, but it feels somehow more delectable when you don't know he's looking. 

It's nearing midnight, and you're getting up to leave. Curfew means you have to scurry back to your apartment across the street or you'll be stuck here all night. It also means you have to walk right past the same officer who snuck you that cupcake. 

“You asked me once if I ever wanted to end it.”

Across the fire, he looked like a spectre: a thing you could not touch, sizzling tendrils of silvery air curling around crackling flame. You’d stopped for the night, and neither of you wanted to sleep. Even though you’d both seen enough fire for a lifetime, you still extended your palms toward it and let it warm you as you watched his dark brown eyes grapple for a way through the thistly wood of his past.

“I tried,” he told you. “After I lost her.”

Somehow, you felt undeserving. Like wrapping your fingers around a piece of Joel Miller’s steel-hard aorta and yanking out all the precious bits that came with it. Like licking the blood from the heart and shoving it back inside. Would he ever be the same knowing another soul in the world had this information? Would he come to regret telling you?

He watched you stand and shuffle up next to him on the piss-poor, blood-stained excuse for a sleeping bag. When your fingers lifted to the scar on his throat, he did not flinch away. Your hands were warmed by the fire. It filled the very soul of you, that flame. He did not meet your eye, but you looked into his nonetheless. 

“I’m happy you missed.” A hand, warm and kissed by a tenderness he would never deserve, settled at the nape of his neck. Fingers gently combed through the grey strands, and he leaned into your touch, not quite understanding the pull but giving in nonetheless. For the first time in years, he thought he might be able to sleep if you just kept touching him like this.

Your next words were soft, but they were not afraid. “But I’m sad I never got to meet her.”

His head turned, and at last, his eyes met yours. 

“Me, too.”

You smiled sadly. “Joel.”

“Don’t ever,” he said slowly, his hand squeezing your knee, “play fast and loose with your life again. Your life happens to fuckin’ matter to me.”

And that was that. 

At some point, this began. Neither of you attempt to define how or when. Perhaps it has always been. It isn’t like time matters anymore.

When you pass Joel on your way to the door, he grabs your wrist. 

“Does that FEDRA fucker know whose place you go to every night?”

You sigh, turning your head to meet his eyes: glimmering black beetles in the dim light. “Joel. Don’t be an asshole.”

But he’s long past trying not to be an asshole, especially when it comes to people honing in on his fucking territory. He tugs you by the waist so your back is pressed against his chest. His fingers are splayed over your belly. “You like him?” he says into your ear. 

Your lashes flutter on your cheeks. “Joel.” His name sounds like the citrus of the oranges you like from the cafeteria. It’s sweet and tangy and somewhat discrete. “You know I need to meet with Robert about the battery tomorrow. You’ll keep me up all night.”

A grunt rumbles deep in his chest. “You’re not goin’ to see Robert alone.” 

“That was part of his deal.” You gasp when he buries his face in your neck, sucking at the skin beneath your ear. He’ll make it show up angry and purple for the FEDRA officer and, fuck it, the entire QZ to see. He’ll litter your whole body with bruises and hickeys like he's a goddamn teenager if that's what it takes to keep you here. 

“Shit fuckin’ luck.” His fingers dip to the waistband of your jeans. Your hips rock subtly and he smirks against your skin. “Robert doesn't get to decide how this goes.”

“Yeah, he does. He’s the one with the battery.” 

The scratch of his beard is rough and deliberate against your neck. “If he doesn't wanna see me,” says Joel, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding the zipper down, “he can tell me himself.”

“He’s terrified of you.”

Joel turns you around and presses you right up against his chest. You feel his hardness at your belly, the sear of his gaze through yours. “Good,” he says. “Get on the bed.”

It’s already midnight, which means you’ll get chewed out if you try to leave now. Joel’s plan, you guess. “You jealous of a little FEDRA officer, Miller?” Backing toward the bed, you smile up at him, coy and teasing.

“You never answered my question.” He chases your body, stalking toward you as his hand juts out to squeeze your hip. Your legs hit the edge of the bed. “Do you like him?” 

His lips are so close you could just surge toward him and end this suffering. But he's keeping you at arm’s length, keeping you pliant under his touch because he knows—the bastard—that he’s winning. 

Still, getting a rise out of Joel Miller is your birthright. “Would you rather I fuck a Firefly?” 

A faint sneer twists his mouth, and this is his anger. This is the simmering, thrilling thing that infests your very blood. He’s jealous, and you're surprised at how deliciously it thrums in your lower spine, knowing he’s furious at the thought that someone else could even come close to the way he knows you. 

The kiss begins slowly. For the heat you can feel through the press of his chest against yours, his nose only gently nudges yours as he works his way up to claiming your mouth. When he does, it’s a bizarre and dizzying shift compared to the rage you know he feels. The desire to march out onto the street and beat that officer to near-death. He compensates with a unique tenderness, taking his time with you, his hand pressing down against the exact spot on your lower back that forces his hips to mould to yours. His other cups your face, his fingers winding into your hair and curling at the back of your neck. It forces you to look up at him. 

His beauty loops like a knot through your nerves. If you prodded any spot on your skin, the blood beneath would sing with the topography of him. You know the lines of his face better than your own. There is a patch in his beard that resembles a heart. There is a twinkle in his eye that lingers when he frowns and smiles. It’s a rare thing in such a sullen person. But you like finding those eyes in the dark. Somehow, for you, he’s hope.

When his lips finally meet yours, they're soft, and he lets you reach up to tangle your fingers in his soft, messy hair even though he’s doing everything he can to keep you under his control. Not that you mind. He knows you're his. 

He deepens the kiss with a soft groan, curving his body over yours, tongue seeking the seam of your lips. You part them willingly, gasping when he lurches forward and slides his tongue along yours, biting and sucking at your lips. Joel growls softly at the faint noises you make, your fingers tightening in his hair, the pleasing sting in his scalp sending jolts down to his hard cock. 

“MmmmmJoel.” You’re panting, desperate for air he won't give you. He likes this—making you gasp, making you weak, making you forget entirely that you’re supposed to be teasing him. 

“Careful,” you gasp, barely able to form words around his mouth on yours. “Gonna hurt your back.”

That only seems to egg him on. He may not be young and agile anymore, but that’s never stopped him from giving you what you need. He turns you around and lies on his back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down on top of him. Your jeans go quickly, sliding down your hips with your panties and dropping somewhere on the floor. Your shirt follows, his fingers enjoying their path along your shoulders as he slips your bra straps down: a rare moment of indulgence and appreciation in a world that does not allow either. 

For a moment, he just looks at you, brushing the pad of his thumb across your chin. Your eyes glimmer from the light through the window. “You only like me,” he says. Matter-of-fact. He knows. 

But you smile, because he decided to say it anyway. “I only like you, Joel Miller.”

A hand kneads your ass, giving it a smack. You jump in his grasp, but he just gives you that crooked smirk and whispers: “Come take a seat.”

You rear back, frowning at him. Is he—

“You waiting for a sweeter invitation, baby?” His voice is low and gruff, unused to compromise. You feel his fingers dig into your ass and pull you up onto his chest. Your cunt is slick with anticipation and the ichor of desire. 

He wants you on his face. 

“What if I—”

“Sit.” Every letter feels like a deliberate strike, bone-deep. “C’mon, now.”

Let me show you how much I like you. 

Your bottom lip between your teeth, you shuffle gingerly up his chest until you can brace your hands on the wall, your cunt hovering over his mouth. Joel doesn't like that. He wraps his hands around your upper thighs and forces you down onto his face. You gasp his name, one hand flying to his hair and locking your fingers in his locks. “Fuck.”

He grunts, squeezing your thighs up to your hips as he pulls your clit into his mouth, lathering it with his spit and your wetness. It’s white-hot: the pressure on your sensitive little bundle of nerves, the insistent bump of his nose against your clit as he teases his tongue around your tight hole. “Joel, Joel, fuck,” is all you can manage, sweet little gasps that he drinks in, his hips bucking involuntarily with the delicious pain of your fingers pulling at his scalp. You're losing grip on the real world and slipping elsewhere, and he wants to get you there. 

One of Joel’s hands slides between your legs, easing them open even more, and rests on your belly, shifting to your ribcage and helping you steady yourself atop him. His fingertips graze your breasts, reverent and gentle despite their roughness. Those hands have been split and bloodied, but they hold you like they’ve never known anything but kindness. His eyes closed, savouring the taste of you, his fingers trace a scar on your sternum from an incident at knifepoint six years ago. He cannot see it, but he knows it nonetheless. 

Joel is greedy when he has his face buried in your pussy. He doesn’t get the opportunity to take his time like this often; the both of you have only ever been acquainted with impermanence. But now, tucked comfortably between your thighs, licking between your folds like a starving fuckin’ dog, taking what he wants from you. 

The sounds are slick and obscene, mingled with your drunken sighs and words of encouragement as you curl your fingers against the wall uselessly. “Joel,” you whimper, your hips rolling against his face, moonlight bursting on your eyelids. “I… can’t… so good—”

He groans, his hand smacking your thigh, feeling your cunt gush on his tongue as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly. He’ll imprint the feeling of him on your skin forever—if he hasn't already. He’ll make sure you never have another man like you have him. 

It’s a selfish thing, love. He's mastered clutching it to his chest and keeping his palm closed right around it. 

“I’m… oh, fuck, I’m gonna…” Your hips buck wildly, and a growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you steadfast and firm to his face. He sucks your clit back into his mouth and fixes his tongue to you, wiggling slightly as he feels you stiffen above him. “Oh, my—gonna come!”

He knows. You're already coming. Your hand leaves his hair and braces next to your other one on the wall, ensuring you don’t fall over as your thighs shake uncontrollably and your mouth drops open in a keening whine. Joel keeps lapping at your clit long after your orgasm fades and you cry out from the overstimulation. Gently, you reach down to tug his hair, and he reluctantly pulls away. He’s so hard he can’t conjure much mental activity besides getting his dick wet. 

Your chest is heaving as you try to pick your leg up and get off him, but your strength fails you. Instead, Joel grabs your hips and sits up, your cunt sliding down to sit on top of his erection. Experimentally, you grind down on him, watching a muscle in his jaw feather. “Are you going to let me take your pants off?” you ask him, teasing, your finger tracing the metal of his belt buckle. 

He grits his teeth, letting you take control for a moment, sliding the belt achingly slow out of each loop. Your wicked little smile is so pretty in the darkness, illuminated briefly by passing patrol vehicles through the window. Unbuttoning his shirt, you dip your body low to his chest and press gentle kisses all the way down to his soft belly and the trail of hair disappearing under his waistband. 

Joel moans brokenly when you shuck his jeans down his legs and squeeze his hard length before it can slap up against his stomach. There’s a tattoo on his inner thigh that you like to trace with your fingers, something he got with his brother when they were young. Your tongue darts out and licks up the precum pooling at his slit, making his cock twitch in your grasp. “Jesus,” he groans. “Baby, c’mon, let me—”

Your soft lips parting around the throbbing head of his cock destroy whatever end to the sentence he had planned. Squeezing his strong thighs to ground yourself, you swirl your tongue around the tip and take him deeper, your throat expanding to accommodate his thick, heavy weight in your mouth. He huffs, grumpy that he can't think straight for long enough to stop you and overcome with pleasure all the same. You squeeze his thigh again, your thumb rubbing circles over the little tattoo, and he meets your eyes. They're watery, blinking hard to expel the tears, his hand instinctively cradling the crown of your head to keep you on him, keep you choking around him. 

When your nose meets the thatch of hair above his base, he’s the one who chokes, his head tipping back. “Jesus, fuck, goddamn—” His fingers curl in your hair and gently urge you off his cock; you pout, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length. His dick jumps at the sight, lying hard on his stomach. 

“Come up here,” he rasps. You do, crawling up his body until your hips are flush, his hardness slotted, thick and throbbing, between your folds. The hum that leaves your mouth is wanton, your teeth tugging at your bottom lip. His hands move to your lower back, digging into the flesh just above your ass so you’re forced to roll your hips along his shaft. 

Your mouth drops open at the jolt of pleasure to your cunt. “Oh…”

“That’s it, baby.” 

He cannot come inside you, but he can come like this. And he will, probably faster than he likes; your pretty lips parted, your eyes lidded and boring into his even as you grind along his cock, unwavering. You look good like this. You look happy and soft and all his. 

Joel’s hands clutch you a little harder, roll you a little faster, your hands supporting your weight on his firm chest. He’s so fucking close, your wet pussy soaking his length and his tip catching on your sensitive clit with each roll of your hips, but he needs you to come again. You come first. 

“Joel,” you sigh, your thighs locking tight around his hips, nectar and frosting and citrus. 

“I know,” he says, “I know. Keep goin’, baby. C’mon. Doin’ so good. Jesus, so good.”

The first orgasm was a meticulous build-up. This one crashes down with the ceremony and courtesy of an ambush: it seizes your whole body and leaves you helpless. You moan his name—maybe you whisper it; everything is loud in your ears—and double over, your cheek pressed into the hollow of his throat. He keeps you moving, seeking his own high, bucking up against your cunt.

“That’s it.” His praises gently puff out across the top of your head, tucking your head under his chin, admiring the curve of your back and the supple taste of your skin under his fingers. His balls draw up and his core goes tight with imminent release. “Fuck, baby. Fuck—”

There’s a hot, wet splash against your belly, then another, and another. When you peel yourself away to watch his cum spurt onto his stomach, your cunt tightens with the pulsating rhythm of his shaft under you and another brief, but devastating, rush of pleasure surges through your whole body. It almost fucking knocks you over. You lift yourself off his cock in time to see a burst of wetness soak him, dribbling out around your bodies onto the mattress. Joel groans, his brows lifting, another spurt of cum landing on his belly. 

“Jesus Christ.”

You list to the side, unable to hold yourself up in any capacity. You land next to him, your arm belted across his chest, fondly nudging a pec with your nose. “Me, too,” you mumble. Your voice is hollow. 

Joel turns his head to face you, and you swipe some cum off his belly with your index and middle fingers, looking him in the eyes as you lick it up and swallow. He grabs you by the back of the neck and kisses you hard. “No fuckin’ FEDRA asshole,” he grumbles into your mouth, “is gettin’ anywhere near you. And neither is Robert.”

You forgot that was what this was about. “Joel,” you whisper, lips migrating from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, his scratchy beard, “you can’t keep me safe forever.”

He reaches around to grab your ass and then hitches your thigh up onto his hip. “Yeah, I fuckin’ can. Stay here.” 

“We aren’t related, or married.” You pin him with a stare. “They would never let us.”

Joel lifts his brows. You roll your eyes. “We aren’t married.”

He’ll pick a fight in the morning. But you already know you won’t be going to see Robert about the battery with your big guard dog standing just behind you. Robert can suck it the fuck up, for all Joel cares. 

“Happy birthday, baby,” he says, squeezing your thigh. “It was a shitty cupcake, though.”

You laugh, kissing him on the nose. “No, it wasn’t. For all you know, you may never have one again.”

“For the fuckin’ best,” he grumbles, chasing your mouth again. You let him kiss you, and neither of you get much sleep. 

He really didn't mind the cupcake.

[cryptotheism]

The prince, beautiful for a six-foot clam, was freezing and starving. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was ever fair.

He cursed his father. He cursed his sisters. He cursed the pools of freezing muck and he cursed the film of saline moss that covered them. He lost count of how many times he had sunk his legs into freezing pools. His belly was empty, and his legs were numb with the cold. Bastards, he thought. Bastard bastards bastards. He kicked another small shelled creature into a wall. He didn’t deserve any of this. He had prepared.

Everything. He had packed everything into that catamaran, and now it was gone, smashed to the bottom of the interlocain by the autodefenses. Clothes, tools, bedroll, tent, rations -the goddamn rations- even the books. All he had was the boots, the leather pants, the billowy linen shirt with the gold buttons, his sword belt, and a nearly-empty sword.

Now he was cold, and hungry, and he couldn't sleep because of the cold and the hunger. He had tried to eat the weeds, but the taste made him retch. He tried to eat the small shelled things, but they were full of so many little bones. Bastards, he thought. They never thought he would actually do it. They never thought he would just pick up and run. He was glad, in a way, that his family couldn’t see him now. He could picture it. His father, bored and disappointed. His sister’s smug grin. His mother, full of pity. Poor Marin. Always poor Marin. It wasn’t fair. The city didn’t call them. It called him. It called to him alone. That little voice, deep into the night, calling him north, calling him here. Something wanted him here…wherever here was.

Here was Teleth Avaris, tomb-city to the old gods. Specifically, here was a shore battery on the south wall that had largely collapsed into the sea. Even in the cities heyday, it would have been a gray place devoid of honor or beauty. Titanic guns rusted on their mounts, eaten by the salt-sea air. The old concrete had been licked smooth by the waves, and the whole place sagged into the water like a great stone and rebar hammock. Tide pools formed in potholes dug by the impact of old kinetic shells. Moss and lichens and barnacles clung to every surface, trapping moisture and thus the cold. To the little shelled creatures and chubby gastropods, it was a banquet, a feast of winter vegetables and fresh fjord insects. To the prince, it was a palace of discomfort, the seat of some rude foreign king who decorated only in tapestries and carpets of wet, rotting, sponge. The prince attempted to kick another small shelled thing, but slipped on a patch of slimy lichen, nearly losing his footing. The prince chuckled to himself. You know what? Good. Maybe father would send Lunine in after him, and she would end up at the bottom of the interlocian, her and that goddamn bodyguard. Maybe this could be a good thing. If he could escape from this carbonsteel dung heap, he would be a hero. Lone survivor. A legend. Father would... No, who cared what father thought. Father would be forced to give him the reigns. If he escaped. If he survived. This was a win-win.

He could escape. Of course he could escape. He had read books on survival. Even books on survival in the teleths. Everyone always said he was intelligent, and he was. A tiny part of him was giddy at the idea of playing shaft-diver. He had always adored shaft divers. Every young man adored shaft divers. Yes! That's what he would do. It was all coming together. All he had to do was recall every piece of information he could remember about shaft-diving, every story, every book, every wayward tale, and he would survive. His stomach groaned.

The prince drew himself up, puffing out his chest with newfound confidence. Yes. It was all coming together. He seized a rock, a nice sturdy one, and scraped off the lichens with his hands. It was a disgusting sensation, but the prince reveled in his newfound rustic aplomb. No, he thought. It had always been there. He was emerging from his chrysalis. He crouched low, surveying his environment for danger. He focused his eyes on a chubby little gastropod, and began to stalk, creeping toward his prey like some huntress-witch from the glowing swamp. Toe to heel. Yes. By the gods it was working. Yes. He was doing it. He was actually doing it. Three meters. Two meters. One. He raised the rock.

As he brought the rock down, his foot slid out from under him, sending him toppling sideways. His elbow plunged through a bed of moss and into another freezing pool. The chubby gastropod hopped up, skittering away as fast as its tentacles could carry it. The rock caught it by two of its legs. In a herculean feat of hunting prowess, the prince lunged, sprawling upon his belly to slam the rock down on the gastropod again. The hit connected, breaking the shell with a satisfying thwack.

The prince, giddy with adrenaline and hunger, seized the thing in his hands. He peeled off his mouthplate, and tore into the mass. Almost immediately he recoiled as bits of shell tore into the spaces between his teeth. He plucked and spat out the shards, and remembered something about the little gastropods. He began to tear off tentacles. The texture was disgusting, leathery sheathes and overwhelmingly fatty meat with veins like gamey dental floss. The prince, in his starving delirium, found them delicious. He laughed and wept as he ate, mad with adrenaline, splayed out on his belly in the freezing muck. Success. Victory. A conquering.

The shaft diver, who had been observing all of this from a nearby boulder, watched on with an expression of mild horror, mercantile opportunity, and ill-advised lust. He descended from his perch as loudly as he could, and strode across the wet ground with purpose. He adjusted his bow tie, and in his most charming voice, the one he reserved for rich marks, said;

"Hey there."

The prince whipped around, bits of tentacle flying from his mouth as he drew himself up to one knee, and then up to both feet. He was met with the sight of a vile little beast. Maybe five feet tall, pink and fleshy, with wide dark eyes flanked by little fins and a row of razor-sharp teeth. No doubt one of the many horrors common to these ruins. The prince drew his weapon, the nanites flashed into place, forming a thin, scalpel-sharp, blade which he leveled at the beast's throat.

"mgie bgeft" he shouted through a mouthful of gastropod, and lunged.

A wristblade extended from beneath the shaft-diver's sleeve. It parried and backstepped with rigged agility. "Hey now! Hey hey hey! Relax! I'm not gonna hurt ya." Said the shaft diver, holding up his palms in a calming gesture. This guy was scared shitless, he needed an angle.

"Hey buddy calm down, its okay, whats your prodigal?" Said the shaft diver.

The prince stared at him, "Prodigal?" He said, clearly still panicking.

Oh boy, thought the shaft diver, this one was real out of his league. "Oh, sorry sorry, I thought you were one of us, said the diver."

The prince stared back, bits of gastropod dripping from his mouth. "One of us?"

Time to lay it on thick. "A shaft diver, dummy. I was watching you stalk that thing, figured you were pro." He paused for dramatic effect, feigning realization. "You're tellin me you're not a diver?"

"No. but I can see how you would make that mistake." Said the prince, swishing the nanoblade away with sudden dignity. "You stand before Marin de Trozier, firstborn and rightful heir to house Trozier."

The shaft diver was all but drooling. He could tell guy was wealthy, but the firstborn of an Atlantean merchant clan? The shaft divers thoughts went into overdrive. Do I bow? No. He's playing shaft diver, let him play the part.

The shaft diver put on his best shaft diver voice, the rough, touch-mad one, like how they sound in teleplays. He was nearly a foot shorter than the prince, but did his best to look rugged and unimpressed. "Am I supposed to be impressed, prettyboy? Want me to curtsy? You're in Teleth Avaris now, you left your titles behind. Like it or not-" He paused for effect. "-you're a shaft diver now."

"Hmph." Said Marin, turning up his nose at the insolence. "Maybe so. You still haven't given me your name. Your 'prodigal' was it?" Marin made mocking quotes as he said the words. The shaft diver shook his head. "Seeing as you've already given me your proper name, there's no need for prodigals." He extended a rigged hand, "You can call me Kip."

Marin returned the gesture, shaking. "Marin."

Kip grinned. Hook, line, and sinker.

This is the first chapter of Emerald Seas. You can read the first draft, and its prequel, here.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Thank God for Eugene Roe

This request was from a lovely anon. It’s been sat in my inbox for a little while so I’m sorry it’s taken so long but it’s finally here now. Hope you enjoy. Warnings: mentions of injury, swearing, death, themes of war.

Eugene wasn’t sure what order the events of the day went in. Everything became a blur after a while and all he could see was the crimson blood covering his pale hands. It all began when Skinny Sisk had been hit earlier that morning and Eugene accompanied him to the aid station in Bastogne. The aid station had been crowded and he spent a good portion of the morning there, not returning until later that day, and leaving Spinna in charge. Easy Company. They were in good hands, no patrols were scheduled, and the bombardment from the morning had died down. It was a relatively quiet day, maybe too quiet.

No one looked up at Eugene as he hopped off the jeep, trudging his way through the snow to where Spinna was standing, arms crossed, his chin buried deep into his scarf, moving from foot to foot to stay warm. The priest had just finished his blessing and began gathering up the white sheet he’d laid across the bonnet of the jeep.

“What’s the word?” Eugene balanced the boots he’d collected for Joe Toye on top of the box of supplies Renée had kindly found for him.

Spinna glanced at him, “Battalion wants a reconnaissance patrol. Kraut hunting”

“Alright, I'll go. Take these,” Eugene passed the box over to Spinna, who accepted them thankfully, glad he didn’t have to go on the patrol after all. “Give the boots to Joe Toye, tell him they’re a nine.” Spinna nodded at Eugene as he began to jog over toward the other paratroopers who had gathered, waiting for orders.

Eugene hurried towards Sergeant Martin who was talking quietly to Lieutenant Peacock. Johnny’s hand shot out, stopping Eugene in his tracks, “Doc Doc, it’s a combat patrol. Why don’t you stay back and keep your ass out of trouble? Huh?”

Eugene looked a little forlorn, and nodded slowly “Yes Sergeant.” He was surprised they didn’t want a medic on the patrol. Ever since they arrived in Bastogne and the Krauts started their artillery barrages, everyone was crying out for a goddamn medic, day or night.

Stepping back Eugene caught Y/n's eye, she smiled at him softly, giving him a small wave before continuing her conversation with George and Babe. Eugene felt the familiar ache in his chest beginning to grow as it did every time she smiled at him.

His heart always ached when he wasn’t on patrols with her, fearing that the worst would happen before he’d even told her how he truly felt. She was his friend but that’s all he was ever going to be to her, and it hurt, but at least he could help keep her alive.

He crouched down by a tree, ignoring the snow that brushed against his trousers, leaving damp patches where he sat. The cold seemed to keep him awake, alert, and ready for anything that could go wrong. He’d been that way since they came into the Bulge. On edge, waiting for the next move to go wrong. That was the part he hated about being a medic, everyone always needed him in the most dire situations. The rest of the time he merely existed, never getting close to them because, in the next moment, he’d be covered in their blood.

He lit a cigarette, embracing the warm air that filled his lungs, exhaling in a long puff of smoke that drifted upwards towards the light that peaked through the dense tree cover. The snow blew through it extinguishing any heat before it had the chance to warm the air. Bastogne was a place of cold and despair, any hope was soon extinguished, if not by the Krauts then by the weather.

The gunfire signalled the action that Eugene was waiting for.

“Doc, it’s Y/n!”

Eugene found himself frozen in time, his eyes watching his fellow paratroopers rush past him in a blur. George’s mouth was moving as he continued to shout but all Eugene could hear was her name, a silent prayer on his lips. It couldn’t be her, not Y/n.

“Doc! Help her! She’s been shot!” That was all it took for him to be at George’s side, pushing the radioman out of the way and falling beside Y/n, who gave him the same soft smile she had sent him earlier.

“Y/n, ya stay with me now. Dontcha’ even think about dying.” He pressed the bandage firmly against the wound on her side, cursing as the blood flowed straight through his fingers.

“E-Eugene… Gene I…” Y/n gasped, blood spilling out the corner of her mouth as she spluttered helplessly on the ground. Eugene ripped open the syrrette of Morphine, pressing it firmly into the fresh over her collar bone.

“Y/n, don’t say nothin’, ‘kay. Save ya strength. I need ya to stay with me,” Eugene pleaded, his hand shaking as he placed the cannula, securing it with tape quickly and allowing the plasma to flow down the line and into her veins. The morphine was taking effect now too and her speech became slurred as she tried to reach out for Eugene’s hand.

“Eu-gene?” He gripped her hand tightly, placing his lips on her skin. He could feel her shaking beneath his touch, and he couldn’t help the tears that spilt down his frozen cheeks.

“You’re gonna be just fine, Y/n.” Eugene knew deep down he was trying to reassure himself but he was glad when Y/n smiled up at him.

“I’m gonna getcha’ outta here.” With George’s help, they began to drag Y/n along the snow-covered ground, trying to ignore her complaints of pain as the German bullets whipped past their heads. Captain Nixon appeared, shouting over the commotion for them to retreat, but Eugene and George kept on moving, pulling Y/n to safety before they stopped.

Eugene was back at her side in an instant, applying a fresh dressing over the already soiled one, praying that this one would hold.

“Eugene, I need to tell you s…mthing imp-portant. I-I love you, Gene. I-I’ve always l-loved you but I was too s-scared to tell you.”

Eugene’s heart skipped in his chest, feeling lightheaded as he fell over his words. He wanted to tell her he loved her too, to kiss her, to hold her close to his chest and promise her that everything was going to be okay. How could he promise her that? He could only watch as she grew ever paler and the blood seeped through the bandages, turning the snow around them bright red.

“I know,” he replied, brushing his hand over her sweaty forehead, watching as her glazed eyes followed his movements. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/n.” The roar of the jeep pulling up accompanied his words and he made quick work of flagging it down, carrying Y/n over and laying her limp body over the stretcher as she passed out.

The first thing Y/n remembered was the pain, it spread through her body like a searing fire, causing her to cry out. She sat upright in bed with a start, hissing as the sutures pulled at the wound on her abdomen. A pair of hands came to rest on her shoulders, easing her back down in the bed.

Her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, noticing the stone walls and high blue-painted ceiling. She wasn’t in a hospital but beds with wounded men lay all across the room. Women in nurses' uniforms hurried back and forth while medics helped work on the injured men.

There was still a hand resting on her shoulder and she glanced over to see the very worried, Cajun medic starting back at her.

“You gave me quite a scare back there you know. Damn Y/n, do n'tcha do that again,” he leant across, pulling her carefully into a hug which she quickly reciprocated.

“I’m sorry, Gene. I’ll try and be more careful next time,” she assured him, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

Eugene gave her a weak smile and opened his mouth to speak before snapping it closed. She cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting to hear what he wanted to say.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this. I don’t even know if you meant all that you said back there but I just… I just gotta tell you that I feel the same,” he took a deep breath, “I love you too.”

Y/n swallowed hard, had she confessed her feelings to him? She’d managed to hide her feelings for him ever since Toccoa and yet in a moment of weakness she spilled the beans. How many people heard her? Her mind raced with unanswered questions but Eugene’s face only grew more grave.

“I did wonder if you only said it cause you was dying,” he stood up from his chair, collecting his musette bag from the floor. “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/n. I’ll see you when you’re better, yeah?”

“Gene, wait! Do you really mean it? Do you really love me?” Her little outburst had caught the eye of a few of the wounded men around her, all watching with bated breath for the outcome.

“Course I do. I wouldn’t have told to if it won’t true,” he moved closer to her bed once more, moving to cup her cheek but only touching her when she nodded in response to his unasked question. “I love you, Y/n, ever since Toccoa.”

Y/n chuckled, “We’re such fools. We’ve both loved each other since Toccoa but we were too damn scared to say anything. I should have told you sooner.”

“And I shoudda told you sooner too. Guess at least we know now,” Gene reassured her, sitting down again beside her bed.

“That’s true,” she mused, shuffling so she could lean closer to him. “Gene?”

“Yes, Doll?”

“Kiss me.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Eugene sealed his lips to Y/n’s as if they had been kissing each other their whole lives. At least one good thing came from that Kraut bullet and that was Eugene Roe.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @bucky32557038ww2 @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @1waveshortofashipwreck

[archangeldyke-all]

what about sevika with reader who has depressive spells where they lack with their hygiene? and reader tries to avoid her because they feel gross and don't want her to see them like that? definitely *not* something i do... just an idea..

anon, there's absolutely no shame in this, i'm the exact same way. the first thing that goes when i'm in a depressive episode is my hygiene. it's normal and common and nothing to be ashamed of. love u babe :) take it easy on yourself.

men and minors dni

you've been in bed for a week. sometimes you get up to pee or grab some chips from the kitchen, but besides that you're in bed, sleeping or crying.

sevika's been asking about you. you don't want her to worry, so you've just been telling her you're sick. you tell her it's a stomach bug, that she shouldn't come over because you don't want to get her sick too.

the truth is, you don't want her to come over because you're depressed as shit, too tired to do anything but lay in bed and stare at the ceiling.

the thought of a shower makes you queasy.

brushing your teeth feels like running a marathon.

you know you look like shit. you smell even fucking worse. you just can't help yourself.

there's a knock at your door. you shoot up in bed, your heart pounding in your chest.

you're not expecting anyone. you haven't ordered any packages.

you think maybe it's just solicitors, and you cautiously lay back down in bed.

but the knocking happens again.

followed by sevika's voice.

"baby? you awake?"

tears well up in your eyes.

fuck.

you didn't realize how much you missed her until you heard her voice. now that she's here, standing outside your apartment, it feels like you're falling apart.

sevika must hear your shaky cries, because you can hear the lock of your front door twisting open. you curse yourself for giving sevika a spare key two weeks ago.

you bury yourself under the covers.

"baby?" sevika's voice calls as she closes the door behind her and shoves her boots off. her feet gently pad through your home until she's standing beside your bed. you try to muffle your sobs into the pillow. "baby, what's wrong?" she asks. god, she sounds so worried.

she gently pulls the blankets back, letting out a heartbroken little sound as she looks down at you. you try to hide your face from her view but she stops your hands with a gentle grip around your wrist, gently straddling your body.

"baby, talk to me." she begs as she wipes your tears from your eyes.

with sevika on top of you, you break.

you shoot up to bury your head into her chest, and her arms quickly wrap around your back, holding you against her.

"i'm sorry." you whisper.

"what!? for what?" she asks.

"i'm fucking disgusting. i'm depressed, i can't get out of bed, i can't even take a fucking shower, sev. i don't-- you should leave, i don't want you to see me like this." you say.

sevika holds you until you're out of tears. then, she gently guides you back down onto the bed, plastering her body on top of yours as she peppers kisses all over your face and head.

"you aren't disgusting." she whispers. you scoff, and she grips your jaw, forcing you to look up at her. "you aren't." she says firmly. you blink up at her as tears well in your eyes.

"i smell like shit." you say wobbily. sevika chuckles.

"yeah. and you look like a little greaseball." she says. you know she's teasing, but it just makes the tears fall. sevika coos at you and kisses your tears up, quickly amending her statement. "that doesn't make you disgusting, baby. nothing could ever make me think that about you." she says.

you sob, your arms shooting up to cling to sevika. "i'm s-s-sorry." you cry. she holds you through it, kissing your tears.

"you've got nothin' to apologize for." she whispers. "i'm sorry i didn't come check on you sooner." she says.

"i told you not to come."

"i know, but it's my job make sure you're okay." she whispers.

"i should be able to take a goddamn shower by myself, sev, i'm a grown fucking--"

"you've got a disease, baby." she says, gently pressing a finger to your lips as she cuts you off. sevika's always been aware of your mental health issues, but she's never seen you struggle like this before. "you can't control it." she reminds you.

"it's so stupid." you protest.

"do you think it's stupid when i get my phantom pains?" she asks. you blink up at her.

"no! sevika, of course n--"

"what makes this any different?" she asks.

this catches you off guard. you've never considered it this way.

sevika smirks down at what must be a shocked expression on your face. "gotcha." she says.

you chuckle. it's the first time you've genuinely laughed in days.

sevika smiles at you like you've just handed her a check for a million dollars.

she swoops down to press a kiss to your lips. you squeak and try to push her away-- you haven't brushed your teeth in a week!-- but she just bats your hands away and kisses you soundly.

she settles into bed beside you, pulling you to her chest, peppering kisses on your head as she rubs a hand up and down your back. "go to sleep." she whispers. "i'll be here when you wake up." she promises.

she keeps her promise. when you wake up, sevika's still holding you.

she helps you out of bed and into the shower. she strips you down, then herself, directing you under the stream and scrubbing away at your skin while you simply stand there. she keeps one hand on your hip at all times, drawing small circles into your skin.

she washes your hair with abundant care, untangling the knots with gentle fingers, then a brush, kissing you each time she pulls on your scalp to apologize.

when she's done, she dries you off and guides you to sit on the toilet. "wait here." she says. you nod, and she presses a kiss to your hair before she leaves for your bedroom.

when she returns, she helps you dress, gently massaging lotion into your skin, kissing each of your limbs after she's done. she helps you to the sink, preparing your toothbrush for you and handing it to you.

"want me to?" she asks, genuinely. like she wouldn't mind brushing your teeth for you. like she wouldn't even bat an eye. it makes you tear up, and you swoop in to kiss her.

"i can do it." you say once you pull away. she smiles at you and holds you as you brush your teeth, pressing a kiss to your head when you spit into the sink, handing you a glass of water when you stand again.

you almost fall to your knees when she leads you back to the bedroom and see that she's changed your sheets for you, and has placed a tray with a bowl of soup and crackers and tea on top of it.

"sevika..." you wobbily say. she blinks down at you.

"i know soup's not exciting, but i thought you were sick so i wanted to bring you the classic--"

"sevika, i'm in love with you." you say suddenly. sevika freezes. you gulp. "sorry, i know it's soon, forget i sai--"

"i'm in love with you, too." sevika whispers.

you swallow against the lump in your throat, a shaky smile forming on your lips. sevika smiles just as shakily back at you, before she kisses you slowly and sweetly.

she pulls away with a dreamy sigh. you grin up at her.

"i would totally jump your bones right now, but my libido isn't exactly--"

"that's okay." she cuts you off. "when you're feeling better." she says as she gently guides you to bed.

she spends the rest of the night spoon feeding you soup and pressing kisses to your head.

in the morning, she makes you breakfast in bed, then takes you on a stroll around the block. the fresh air feels nice.

you aren't better. you probably won't be for a few more days. but with sevika by your side, helping you through your episode, all the impossible little things you've been hiding from start to seem... easier.

everything seems easier with sevika.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa

[resident-gay-bitch]

mommy issues

part 18 / contents

eddie picked up the phone as it rang, as quickly as he could so it wouldn’t wake wayne, “hello?”

“yo, dude.” it was gareth, “i’m about to get the lovebirds, we want burgers. you coming?”

“yeah.” eddie nodded, “i’ll be out in five.”

“okay, see ya then.”

eddie hung up the phone and hurried down to his room, changing his shirt from his fuck off of a fathers to a more acceptable faded old ratty metallica one that the moths may or may not have gotten too. he pulled on a zip up hoodie, and threw one of wayne’s jackets on over the top, because even though it was summer, eddie knew gareth was going to blast his goddamned aircon way too high and he’d shiver without it. he tugged on his boots and checked his hair in the mirror.

it was so smooth now.

you worked wonders.

he heard the car horn out the front and pulled the collar of his hoodie up high around his neck to cover it. he rushed out the door with a bright smile.

eddie shut the door and turned around to see gareth and grant in the front seats raising their hands in the air in a stupid sort of dance, and jeff was leant forward between the front two seats doing the funky monkey. eddie laughed and rushed for the backseat.

he slid in, the hoodie still secure around his neck. he pulled the door shut at the loud blast of gareth’s metal tape consumed the small space. they all started to headbang along as gareth pulled out onto the road again.

the music was turned down after a minute.

“what did you do to it, man?” grant asked, holding up a dishevelled action figure he found on the ground, “he’s dead!”

“oh, don’t even, man.” gareth shook his head, “i was picking up steph last night and it was on the seat, and she like… looked at it for a bit and then just tossed it on the ground and i was like, whatever. i’ll pick it up after, she’s a bitch. but then, when we got back into the car after raiding the seven eleven i saw shed crushed it with her pristine fucking sneakers, and so i just took her home.”

“what the fuck, she crushed it?” jeff asked, shocked.

“obliterated it.”

“awh man,” eddie said, reaching forward to grab it and inspect the poor toy himself, “fuck, this was your new character!”

“i know!” gareth gasped, “she didn’t even apologise.”

“dump the whore.” jeff said.

“i agree.” eddie blew a raspberry and tossed the action figure into the front dash, “she’s done to many mean things to my garebear.” eddie gave gareth’s shoulders a squeeze from behind him.

“shut the fuck up, eddie.” gareth sneered, giving him a glance though the review mirror.

“sometimes i think you two have move chemistry than jeff and i, and we’re literally in love.” grant commented and it made eddie and gareth laugh.

eddie wrapped his arms around gareth’s seat and chest in an attempted a hug, “it’s because he’s been my secret lover all this time, haven’t you shnookums?”

gareth hummed and made kissy faces, turning his cheek slightly so eddie could smack one on him, “hmm, the best damn sex i’ve ever had, babylove.”

“weird bromance aside,” jeff said, grabbing eddie’s shoulder and pulling him back into his own seat, “they have a point. she’s a bitch.”

“she’s a hot bitch.” gareth pointed back at him, “and she really really likes having sex with me.”

“you’ve cheated on me now, garebear?” eddie gasped, “i’m heartbroken.”

gareth poked his tounge out at eddie through the review mirror, “look, can we not talk about stephanie? i’m trying to avoid that headache right now.”

“affirmative, cappin’.” eddie muttered, putting on some strange voice that didn’t make sense and saluting.

“yeah, alright.” grant nodded, “but you can’t avoid it forever.”

“got it.” gareth clicked his tongue and turned a corner, “what do you fuckers want?”

“you.” eddie hummed, “always you, lover.”

“you’re going to make me sick.” jeff deadpanned him.

eddie dove for him, poking his tongue out and trying to lick jeff’s face.

“you’re an animal!” jeff tried to shove him off.

“hey! hey!” gareth called out, “no fighting… or… getting frisky in the back of my car.”

eddie managed to stab his tongue into the high of jeff’s cheek and he pulled away with a laugh, and jeff wiped the very little slobber away in a dramatic feat and wined.

“i’ve been contaminated. i’ve got hetero-cooties!”

“oh, ease up, jeff.” grant said with a laugh, “we all know eddie’s not straight.”

eddie retaliated by shoving his boot forward into grants chest.

“why are we friends with him?” gareth asked and it made eddie cackle.

“i dunno man.” jeff shrugged, “we thought you were cool, but apparently he just fucking follows you everywhere.”

“like a shaddow.” grant added, flaring his hands out for dramatics.

“aww, you want me to follow you boys around too?” eddie hummed, batting his eyelids at a rapid pace, “you jealous?”

“i’d rather die.” jeff said plainly.

“can you lot shut up and tell me what you want?” gareth shouted, “we’re fucking here.”

“milkshake, fries.” eddie said, pulled himself forward to kiss gareth’s cheek again.

“ew.” gareth wiped the ‘slobber’ off and wiped it on grants leg.

“dude!” grant wailed.

“i’ll have a cheese burger.” jeff cut in, ever the calm one, “large coke and some fries.”

“i’ll have the same, but a chicken cheese instead.”

“got it.” gareth nodded and slid up to the window of the diner, which was trying a new drive through feature out which these boys absolutely adored on a saturday afternoon.

gareth made the order and held his hand out, and everyone slapped down their change to pay for their meals. once the food was collected (and more petty bickering was made), gareth drove into the carpark and cut the engine. the food was handed out, and there was peace, just for a moment.

“eddie, you want front seat?” grant asked, shoving fries into his mouth.

“yeah!” eddie grinned, slurping his shake.

grant opened the passenger door and rolled out before slamming it shut, and eddie grabbed his things and climbed through the centre console to plop down on the seat.

“dude!” gareth slapped his calves, “feet off the leather- do you know how much this car cost?”

“more than me, i know.” eddie drawled with a roll of his eyes, “got it, dad.”

gareth squinted his eyes and then reached into the takeaway bag and pulled something out, handing it to eddie.

eddie gasped excitedly and set his drink down between his feet. he was sitting with his back to the door and his knees curled up to his chest so he could face everyone in the car. he made grabby hands for what gareth was holding.

“you got me pie?” eddie asked.

gareth pulled it back with a mean grin, “well, i might have.”

“what?” eddie asked, knowing he’d have to do something to get it.

now that he’d seen free pie on the horizon, he really fucking wanted it.

g cleared his throat, “so… upgraded from mechanic to plumber, huh?”

eddie squinted his eyes at his best friend, and then even more at the other two who were looking at him with smug grins.

“yeah, bet you fixed her pipes real good.” grant said and then snickered.

eddie’s eyes widened with the realisation as to what they were talking about.

“shut up.”

“status report?” gareth asked.

eddie looked at him for a moment, trying to hold back a grin, and then he yanked the collar of his hoodie down to show his neck.

the boys went crazy. they all held up their hands and shook them out and did this stupid thing they all do when they pretend they’re overly excited popular girls in movies and squeal for good news. so that’s what the did, they all shook their hands and squealed for eddie.

he cupped his hands over his mouth and cleared his throat, fixing his voice to sound robotic and deep and said, “status updated from; virgin nerd, to; stepmother-fucking nerd!”

they all squealed again.

“dude! no way.” gareth slapped eddie’s knees.

“yes way!” eddie laughed, “dude, it was so hot- her shower was not broken, by the way. it was all a ploy to take me to bed-“

“dude…” jeff laughed, “we know.”

“that’s like… the most classic line in the book.” gareth agreed.

“what?” eddie’s arms dropped, “well, i didn’t know.”

gareth pulled a strange face and handed the pie over to eddie, “it astounds me how thick headed you can be sometimes.”

“well, so-rry for not assuming my stepmother was trying to lure me to bed.” eddie hummed, chomping into it, and it was apple today, one of his favourites, “i’m just not a dirty minded fuck like you lot.”

“well, that’s the biggest pile of shit i’ve ever heard.” grant snickered.

eddie swatted at him, and then grant swatted back, so eddie lunged forward to grab his head and shove it down, but grant grumbled and wrestled eddie’s arms back.

“can you-“ jeff tried to cut in by pulling their arms apart, but it was no feat, “jesus-“

“someones a little excited today, i think.” gareth laughed and poked eddie’s neck, “she really did some damage, ed.”

eddie, suddenly forgetting all about his attack on poor grant in the back seat, slumped back against the door wirh a dopey grin and sipped on his chocolate shake, “yeah…” he giggled, like a love sick girl.

“oh my god,” jeff said, leaning his head between the two front seats to look at eddie better, “you are a mess.”

“what did she do to you?” gareth asked in shock.

eddie giggled again, “she took my virginity.”

all the guys laughed at him, happy smiles. eddie knew they were making fun, of course they were, eddie was acting like he was twelve again, but he also knew they weren’t actually judging. they were happy for him, this was just really amusing.

“so…” grant shook his head at eddie, “you going to disclose all the juicy details, or are you going to leave us hanging?”

“well!” eddie said, sipping his shake one last time before sitting it down. he cleared his throat and clasped his hands together, “it was… phenomenal. literally the best sex anyone’s ever had, i’m sure.”

“yes, obviously.” gareth dead panned him, “because you, a lanky nerd virgin freak knows how to fuck.”

eddie kicked him, “like you’re any better- and i’m not lanky, thank you. i’m just… tall. i have muscles.”

“sure you do,” grant poked his shin, “twiggie.”

eddie sneered at him, “she happens to think i do, thank you. and i can pick her up with ease, so that’s all that matters.”

“oh, so there was picking up involved?” gareth asked, taking a bite of his burger without paying attention to it, and sauce dribbled down his front.

eddie grabbed a napkin and tossed it at him, “no, not… during. i just- i’ve picked her up before. she likes to be manhandled, i think.”

“hmm, who doesn’t?” gareth asked, wiping his front and making missy faces at eddie, “i want you to pick me up and toss me around, big boy.”

eddie grinned at him, “oh, lover, why didn’t you ask sooner?”

“gag.” jeff said without a hint of emotion, “i’m gagging right now. this is so gross.”

“does anyone have a knife so i can cut my ears off?” grant asked, “i don’t want to hear anything, ever again.”

eddie and gareth laughed.

“okay, well…” eddie cleared his throat again and ate some of his fries, “first- oh, after she spat in my mouth and told me i had to do as she said-“

“oh, fuck man…” gareth looked at him wearily, “she was in control?”

eddie nodded, “full on in control.”

“dude.” gareth pulled at his cheeks, “that’s so hot.”

“a woman in control is hot-“ grant said.

“hey!” jeff slapped his arm, “boyfriend in the car.”

grant grinned at him, “women in control is hot, but you’re hotter.”

“ew!” eddie said, “gag! i’m literally gagging!”

“cut off my ears!” gareth said, laughing with eddie now, “you’re so gross!”

they both had a hand shoved into their face.

“please, continue, i’m hooked.” jeff said, leaning over the seat to look at eddie eagerly.

“well- okay, so, she’s really into all that bdsm stuff, which is so hot. and she’s like- oh, she’s been to sex parties, man, and she had like, full on subs when she was my age-“

“that’s so weird to think about.” grant said.

“i know.” eddie pointed a fry at him, “so, like, she went full dom mode and called me her sub.”

“i really wouldn’t pin you as a sub.” jeff squinted at him, “like, i know you’re a pathetic virgin- well, not anymore. but like… a sub?”

eddie shrugged, “i mean, yeah.”

“but you’re so big and scary.” gareth added.

“why thank you, garebear.” eddie hummed with a proud smile, “but no, like… she said the same thing. she actually said because i could take control, it was hotter that i didn’t. and like- bro, i’m not getting in the way of her doing what she wants with me. i’m just- i’m happy enough to be included, you know?”

that made them all laugh and nod their heads, “yeah, okay, makes sense.” grant said, “still, it’s bizarre. but also…” he tipped his head to the side.

“yeah,” jeff shrugged, “we did see how she talked to you last night.”

“and she’s your stepmother.” gareth added, “it’s kind of a hot dynamic, if you ask me. like… it makes sense.”

“thank you.” eddie chirped.

“dude, i can’t believe you managed to bag your stepmother.”

“she’s keeping me too.” eddie said with a proud smile, “said so herself. i’m going back tonight.”

gareth struck his hands over his heart and dramatically flopped back into his seat, “you’re leaving me, pumpkin?”

“i’m sorry, it was good whilst it lasted, garebear, but i’ve moved onto hotter things.” eddie played along, as he always did.

“understandable.” gareth nodded, “she’s a peice of art-“

“hey!” eddie glared at him, “careful where you tread, whore. she’s mine.”

“and your dads.” grant snickered.

eddie turned his glare to grant, and it shut him up very fast, “i know, it’s very unfortunate, but! she hates sex with him, takes viagra for it… she likes sex with me. she was the one that asked me to come over again tonight!”

“look at you go.” jeff punched his arm encouragingly and eddie beamed, “told you to stop doubting yourself man, this towns just fucked up and prejudiced.”

eddie smiled down at his lap, “yeah, yeah.”

“okay, so, details?” gareth asked.

eddie nodded and took another sip of his shake, “well, so… yeah, she layed me down and blew me- which was entirely too fast. i’m not even gonna deny it. i just- mouth on dick equals wow.”

“yeah, we’ve all been there, man.” jeff slapped him on the back, “don’t worry.”

“jeff didn’t last three seconds once i put my mouth on him,” grant said with a cheeky grin, “barely put him inside-“

“shut your goddamned mouth.” jeff grabbed him.

“well, i would shut up,” grant shrugged, “if you could get your dick far enough down without blowing your load first.”

“that was one time!” jeff wailed and it made them all laugh.

“okay, well, she gave me a blowjob and then we were kissing, and she was like,” eddie cleared his throat and put on a really terrible you impression, “oh eddie, you have a really good mouth for a virgin, and i was like, thanks, and she was like, do you want to pout that mouth to better use? and like, who was i to say no to that!”

“you are her out?” gareth asked.

“twice.” eddie grinned, “twice in one go. she said i’m really good at it too, and i’m not allowed to eat anyone else out because she wants it all to herself.”

jeff scruffed up his hair.

“this sounds like you’re describing a dream.” grant said, deadpan.

“i know!” eddie exclaimed, “i woke up this morning thinking it was.”

“okay, so, you ate her out, twice…” gareth pointed at him and shoved some fries into his mouth at the same time, “what next-“

“well,” eddie grinned a little evilly, “i didn’t just eat her out.” he giggled, “she sat on my face.”

gareths jaw dropped and the other two in the back seat started a little cheer for him.

“you- she sat on your face?” gareth asked, shocked and quite frankly appalled, “you beat me to that? i can’t believe this! how was it? was it everything we thought it would be?”

“it was better.” eddie sighed, thinking back to it (discreetly moving his milkshake to cover his semi), “oh, to be crushed by those sweet, thick thighs again. to have her on my tongue. i wished she’d just sat there until i suffocated, so the last sounds i ever heard were her moans and my name on her lips, the last taste her sweet cunt, and the last sight to be her naked, just rocking on my face and pulling my hair. i could stay there forever, eternally fucking blissed out.”

“you should turn that into a song.” grant commented.

“i might.” eddie hummed.

“sounds like a dream.” gareth sighed, “i have been trying to get steph to sit on my face for ages, i have so far been unsuccessful.”

“sucks for you.” eddie said, poking his tongue out, “i bet i could ask at any time and she’d let me do it again. she likes when i beg.”

“awh man.” jeff sunk back in his seat, “begging is hot.”

“agreed.” gareth nodded.

“it’s like…” jeff looked at g and waved his hands about, “something about them needing it so bad they’re literally on their knees, or on the brink of crying for it.”

“yeah, no, right?” gareth nodded, pointing back at jeff, “like, they need you. it’s pathetic and really hot.”

grant stuck his hand towards eddie and they slapped hands in a sort of shake, “it’s okay man, you’re not alone out there.”

“sub solidarity.” eddie nodded and they laughed.

“okay, so, after that?” gareth asked.

“oh, well i fucking came- like, she was looking down at me and- yeah, i came.”

“oh, dude-“ jeff started.

“you’re not the only one.” gareth shrugged, “i came the first time i ate a girl out.”

“it’s hot.” eddie said simply, “pussys great. anyway, i came and that messed up her plan to fuck me because i went soft again, so she sat away and started touching herself- which… wow.”

“hard in an instant?” gareth asked over a bite of burger.

“hard in an instant.” eddie said, “and then- oh, i was on my knees, begging her and shit, and she pulled my hair really hard and told me i was hers. then she sat back on top of me, and… virgin no more.”

“hey…” jeff shook him by the shoulder, “look at you go!”

“i know.” eddie giggled and picked at his fries.

“how longed you last?” grant asked, “did you beat gareth’s whopping score of five seconds?”

“yours was seven, shut the fuck up.” gareth swatted grant.

“oh, not long at all.” eddie shook his head, “i don’t know exactly, but like… it was so wet, and warm, and tight, and-“

“dude you not use a condom?” gareth asked and eddie shook his head, “awh, man. what the fuck?”

eddie giggled, “she said she’s clean and on the pill and taking the plan b, so… i get to go raw, and danny doesn’t.”

“fuck.” gareth groaned, “she must like you a whole lot, man.”

eddie hummed, “well, anyway- she was looking me in the eye and telling me shit like… i was hers and that she owned me and stuff, and my little virgin heart couldn’t handle it all enough as it, and it doesn’t help that i’m literally in love with her so that was all-“

“you’re in love with her?” they all gasped.

eddie shrugged and shook his head, “yeah, have been for a while, but i’ve been avoiding the thought. but i don’t care any more, i love her so much, dude. i’m gonna make her love me back one day, i don’t care how long it takes.”

gareth slowly nodded his head and widened his eyes, “alright… eddie’s in love with his step mom.”

“noted.” grant nodded.

“doomed narrative.” jeff added, muffled around a bite.

“probably, but i don’t care.” eddie glanced at him, “i’m also okay with her breaking my heart so- anyway, back to the sex.”

“back to the sex.” grant nodded.

“so, lasted not long at all, and… then she said it was okay and that she wanted me to cum one more time, so i was like… yeah, obviously i’m not going to say no that. and i’m pretty sure i was still hard at that point anyway.”

“wait- so, you finished four times?” jeff gasped.

“oh yeah.” eddie nodded, “so like- oh, dude, i was so sensitive. and it was like- she was saying some really… uh… i mean, i like, i love her, so everything she was saying meant more- but- but she was…” eddie cleared his throat and looked down in his lap, “i dunno, she called me beautiful and stuff- told me that she wanted to look after me, and love me.”

the car fell silent.

eddie laughed nervously, refusing to look up at any of them, “as a dude who’s been ran from his whole life, that- that’s just kind of- hmm.”

there was a long silence for a moment, and then eddie saw gareth’s hand reach out to lay over his boot softly. grant hummed and said,

“it makes you fall a little more in love, huh?” he swallowed, “i know the feeling.”

eddie smiled up at him, thankful he wasn’t so alone, “yeah, well-“ he let out a little laugh, “anyway, i just… i didn’t last much longer then that and- oh, dude, she made me hold it back,” his mood switched instantly, bright and excited again, “and like i was crying and begging her to cum, and she just… oh, dudes, she slapped me and it was so hot.”

“she slapped you?” grant asked, “and you liked it?”

“yeah!” eddie exclaimed, “i asked her to do it again, and she was like, oh you like that? pathetic, and i was like, god fucking please, mo-“ he cleared his throat and continued on, “god fucking please do it again.”

“no, no.” gareth shook his head with a low little chuckle, and they were all smirking at him, “you called her something. what did you call her?”

“nothing.” eddie shook his head, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“lies,” gareth hummed, “you tell lies.”

“it’s mo… something mo.” jeff added, “he called her something mo.”

the boys all started to hum, making that sound over and over again, trying to think of what it could be that he called you. eddie sunk down in his chair, hiding his face behind his hair and hands and denied denied denied, begging them all to shut up.

“hang on!” gareth gasped and fucking laughed, “do you call her- you call her mommy, don’t you?”

eddie groaned and sunk lower into his seat.

“holy shit!” jeff laughed, “you call your stepmother, mommy in bed.”

“that’s such a weird sentence.” grant muttered.

eddie groaned again, “just- shut up… she likes it, okay?”

gareth laughed again, “aww, he’s embarrassed.”

eddie kicked him.

“did mommy take your virginity, bunny?” grant teased.

“all of you, die!” eddie mumbled.

“did mommy take good care of you?” jeff asked with a sick pout.

“i hate all of you so much.” eddie grumbled, “i wish all of you the worst in your afterlives after i’ve murdered you each with my bare hands.”

they all laughed.

“man, we’re just teasing, calm down.” gareth nudged eddie’s knees, “steph calls me daddy all the time, so- it’s like, weird… but it’s not as weird as you think.”

“yeah, we’ve played around with it before.” jeff said, gesturing to grant, “i mean, it’s not for us but, it’s cool if you’re into it.”

eddie peaked out though his hair, “you’re just saying that.”

“no, for real.” gareth hummed, “it’s okay. don’t be embarrassed. sex is weird, everybody likes something mildly fucked up- were freaks, it’s expected of us.”

eddie sighed and sat back up, sipping his shake again, “i dunno, she just- i… you know that chick i almost hooked up with ages ago?”

they all hummed and nodded.

“she ran off because i accidentally called her that- mommy.” eddie shrugged, “i didn’t mean too, but she was calling me a good boy so like-“

“ah, yeah…” gareth winced, “i mean, you weren’t wrong for it.”

“but… but i didn’t- y/n just kinda, she called herself mommy a few times like, in normal conversation a while ago and- oh dudes, after grad i got hammered and she took me home and helped me to bed and undress and like, i called her mommy and tried to get her into bed- it was terrible!”

they laughed and gareth swatted his knee, “you’re an idiot.”

“i know.” eddie smiled.

“so, she slapped you?” jeff asked, all of them now had eager eyes, waiting for his story to continue.

“and choked me and-“ he shrugged, “it was so hot, and then she finally let me cum and i- have you ever heard of subspace?”

grant and gareth shook their heads, but jeff had.

“it’s like, you kinda disappear?”

“yeah.” eddie sighed, “it was like- the best feeling in the world. i was just floating, and nothing hurt or anything. i felt like, so good. and then when i came down- and i was out for hours apparently, she explained what had happened to me.”

“what is it?” gareth asked.

“it’s like- she said some subs go into it when their body gets overwhelmed and they trust their partner enough to let go. she’s had lots of subs before that went there, and she said i looked like i was about to disappear which is why she kept telling me i was safe with her.”

“oh, so it’s like… you just kind of relax?”

“i think so?” eddie hummed, “i don’t really know, but i know it felt good. and- and she looked after me. cleaned me up, and braided my hair and stayed up for hours to make sure i’d be okay when i came out of it- because you can’t speak or anything i think, when you go there. at least i couldn’t. she said you can’t give consent there either. and like- i dunno, she just held me and it was nice.”

“huh.” grant hummed, “sounds really nice.”

“yeah, it is- but like, there’s a lot more to it than you think.”

“it kinda sounds like a nice way to lose your virginity.” gareth said.

“yeah, it was.” eddie laughed softly, “it was really nice- i mean, kinky and violent but like, nice.”

“huh…” gareth nodded, “is that all?”

eddie nodded and then hummed and shook his head, “well, like- i don’t know. she- this morning was really nice. she made me breakfast and wanted to bring it to me in bed, but i woke up. and- i- she was just- it felt very… domestic.” he hummed and tried to gather his thoughts, “we took a shower before i dropped her to work, and she washed my hair and then like, cleaned my face and shit too- she just didn’t let me do it myself- even dried my hair and stuff after.”

“well-“ jeff leant forward, “the subspace can last ages after, right? maybe she thought you were still in it?”

“or maybe it’s like… a kink thing.” gareth added, “like… feeding into the mommy kink. maybe it’s age play?”

eddie considered both of those options, and they both seemed legit.

“or… and, here me out here, boys,” grant cleared his throat, “or, maybe… she like… loves you back?”

“nope.” eddie shook his head, a stern hand swinging out, “no. no way- dude, don’t even put that thought in my head! i’m gonna- you can’t just- mhm! no. nope, no, no way, okay? she doesn’t- i’m- i’m her goddamned step son. plus! she said all of her subs are just sexual, and she continuously referred to me as one! she’s not in love with me, okay? she’s just- she can’t be. she. cant. be.”

silence lulled over the car and eddie looked at them all sternly. grant circled his cup and the ice clinked around before he took a loud sip. and that was that. they all nodded and eddie was glad.

you didn’t love him.

you couldn’t love him.

that just wouldn’t happen.

would it?

“anyway…” gareth slumped back in his chair, “i think i need to dump steph-“

“finally!” jeff groaned and all the boys started making noises of agreement.

**

part 19

i love the corroded coffin boys all being silly little teenagers (even though they’re all 19-21) so much!!

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Can i get “Look at you, squirming under me, all flushed and pretty looking. Can’t even take a little teasing, can you?” for kit and jacob please?

thank you @direwombat!!

Yet another smut that took me wayyy too long to finish, but it's here (after 10 months or something ridiculous like that)

can also be read on AO3 - The Hunt (3589 words)

18+ Minors DNI - Explicit smut, breeding kink, Predator/Prey dynamics, Bondage, borders on CNC, Kit and Jacob being freaks (affectionate)

A ten-minute head start. 

That’s all he gave her. 

Kit’s heart raced in her chest as she moved at breakneck speeds through the forests that surrounded Cedar Lake. She had no idea where he would be coming from or what he had planned, all she did know was what her survival instinct kept telling her – RUN . Hardly dressed for the environment, all she had on was one of Jacob’s oversized tees and her combat boots, but she’d be damned if she was going to let that slow her down, this was the hunt and GOD did she live for the chase. 

Diving over fallen trees and sliding through dirt and gravel she made a quick path for the densest collection of trees, where the orange and pink of the dusky evening sun couldn’t reach through the branches above. Dark, secluded, and quiet – a spot that would make her near impossible to find. Hiding in amongst the colossal ferns, she caught her breath. Her quickened pulse started to slow, until a twig snapped, and she could hear movement in the underbrush.

Local fauna or… ?

Sinking lower until her belly was in the cold, wet earth, her shirt growing damp against her bare skin, she scanned the area, trying to make heads or tails of where the sounds were coming from, and then she noticed the flash of the laser sight. 

He was close. 

Slowly crawling back up onto her knees, she darted off once more, sprinting as fast as her legs could take her even as the roots of the trees threatened to trip her and pointed branches jutting out like sharpened spears slashed at her bare skin. The blood running down her calves did nothing to stop her, it just made her feel more alive, the heat in her core only rising higher with each pound of her boots below...

“Come on angel, I know you’re out there.” He sang the words out, taunting her. “You gotta be getting tired by now.”

Like fuck she was. 

“You know the hunt only excites me,” Jacob teased, the cruel grin he was assuredly wearing evident in the sound of his voice. 

He was distant enough she knew she still had an advantage, but it was clear he was on her tail and for someone as big and intimidating as Jacob Seed was, he could be so goddamn quiet . It was hard to know just how long her lead would last, there was no telling when he might finally catch her. 

She smiled, her chest heaving, having to bite back on the hoarse laugh that wanted to break free – Kit was enjoying herself a little too much. 

“This isn’t supposed to be the fun part, kitten.”

Shit. He heard her. 

B-lining for the tallest spruce tree with the densest cover, she shoved the toe of her boot into the knotted bark, leaping up to meet the closest branch. Climbing up into the welcoming arms that would provide much needed cover, Kit gave her wounds a once over. Nothing life threatening, nothing that had to be treated right away. 

Spying through the boughs that sheltered her, she watched him enter the clearing. Jacob’s pale eyes steered around the trees and the forest floor figuring out which direction she went in. He was no stranger to searching for tracks, both animal and human alike, and with a spongy forest floor he could see exactly where her footprints stopped. Lifting his rifle, looking through the scope, the barrel rose to exactly where she was sitting, and the laser sight was aimed straight at her chest. The little red dot settled neatly between her breasts, light flashing on the gray cotton. 

He was playing with his food. 

Giving a toothy half grin, he called up to her in a drawl, “Found ya.”

Her tongue dragged against her teeth, the urge to rend flesh from bone creeping up on her. Piercing eyes narrowed and she swung her legs down from the branch, jumping from the tree. She braced herself as she landed in the dirt below, her knees scuffed and covered in dirt, little chunks of bark and soil now ingrained into the skin. Her feline stare threatened she would pounce, but instead she turned and ran, quickly picking up speed. 

She hadn’t given up yet. 

Pushing the drooping boughs out of her way, she let them slingshot backwards behind her, buying her that extra moment to get away if he was following. But her efforts counted for little, as she felt the sudden burning sting and the pressure of a slug cutting its way through her flesh. Stumbling forward, her feet carried her without any control and she careened into a tree. Her nails dug into the bark when she tried to catch herself, hissing as she gritted her teeth together and clenched her jaw, pressing her hand to the wound to apply pressure. Blood dripped down between her fingers, and coated her palm, and the smell of iron hung in the air. 

“Motherfucker.”

A large hand wrapped around the back of her neck, ragged fingernails digging into the thin skin, as Jacob shoved her up against the trunk. The whisper of metal against the leather sheath of the holster on his thigh was a small warning before the cold bite of the blade was held to her throat. Her heart raced, causing blood that pumped just below the surface to thunder through her veins. His chest pressed up against her back and the smell of cigarette smoke, the musk of his sweat, and the petrichor of the wet forest that clung to him and his clothing drowned out the rest of her senses, even as he pressed his nose against her, breathing her in as much as she was with him. The copper hair of his beard burning her wind bitten skin as his rough hand trailed up the outside of her thigh, his weight pinning her to the tree.  

“Thought I’d just let you get away, huh? Thought you could outrun me?” He whispered in her ear, his teeth nipping at her lobe. “And now you’re all mine. You’re gonna wish you never ran, angel.” 

A guttural moan purred from the back of her throat, the rumbling of some giant prowling wildcat building from her chest. A hint of the predator that lay beneath the flesh, the one made docile so she could act as prey. 

Pushing his leg between her thighs, the muscles under the denim of his jeans gave her just enough friction to use as she started to grind her hips against it. 

“Can’t control yourself for a minute, can you, Kitty? You’re just a fuckin’ animal, aren’t ya?” He slapped her ass, making her whine. “Hold still,” he ordered, voice low and commanding and she was forced to obey. Jacob slammed his knife into the trunk beside her head and pulled at the neatly coiled rope slung over his shoulder, the bundle falling into his hands. “Made me hunt ya down, now I get to have my fun.”

He snatched both of her wrists in just one hand, forcing them behind her back, and wrapped the rope around, binding her. Kit ground her teeth, clenching her jaw as the rope was tightened to the point her circulation was nearly cut off, her fingertips starting to go numb. She hissed as the fibers clung and dug into her wrists, burning at her skin as she struggled against her restraints.

Wrapping his hand up in the material of her shirt, still holding her tied wrists together before spinning her around, Jacob tossed her to the ground. The wind knocked from her temporarily, and she was left sputtering for air.

Kicking her legs wider apart, Jacob knocked at her ankle with the toe of his boot before sitting on top of her legs. She was trapped below him as his weight pressed against her. Leaning down, brushing his hand through her hair, he tucked her auburn waves to one side as he whispered in her ear, "You are so fuckin’ gorgeous, ya know that? Seeing you all tied up like this, it makes a man lose sense of himself. You can't run, so I guess you better accept the fact, Deputy Cross –” Clenching a fistful of hair in his hand, he pulled back hard making her wince and her eyes start to sting as he snarled in her ear. “That I'm gonna fuck you into the dirt until you're left wanting to claw at it and you’re screaming my name."

Laughing, she swung her head back to clock him in the mouth, but instead he forced her head back down, pushing her cheek into the forest floor.

"Good try, kitten. But now I'm gonna have to punish ya." 

Ripping open the back of her shirt, exposing her body to him, he was able to take in all of her toned muscle as she wriggled under him. "Y'know, I gotta say, a woman with a body like yours, does wonders for a man's libido. Ass and thighs like that, and those childbearing hips, well –” Rough, calloused hands fell to her hips as he licked his chops, his tongue dragging against the edges of his teeth. “Might just have to breed ya.”

His timbre was a low rumble, vibrating into her through her flesh, traveling through her nerves as his words coursed down the length of her spine, coiling up in her belly. "Fuck you," Kit snapped, her teeth clicking together as she bared them, not letting up from the struggle she continued under him. 

"That's the plan." Dragging her hips up towards him while she lay prone on the ground, he pressed his bulge against her, and with only a layer of denim separating them he started to grind against the curve of her ass as he unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped the fly with one hand. Freeing his hard cock, it throbbed with the anticipation of being inside of her – a sensation they both fully enjoyed.

“Keep that ass up for me, kitten.” Jacob commanded, growling out the words. 

Staring down at the vision before him, hands tied behind her back, ready and willing (even if she pretended the opposite) he smirked as the moonlight reflected off the sheen that had spread from her cunt to the inside of her thighs. Slipping his hand between her legs, he cupped her pussy and could feel the heat radiating off of it despite the cold. 

“You excited, Kitty?”

She scoffed, blowing bits of woody debris away from her mouth. “Like you really have to ask.”

He chuckled darkly and ran two of his fingers down the length of her folds, spreading them open. Moaning as he paid special attention to her clit, Kit gasped as his thumb pressed at the puckered hole of her ass. Her legs started to shake, eyes shutting tight, and a low, desperate whine leaked from her. “Please, Jacob. I need your cock.”

“Ah ah ah, Kitty. You know better. Begging isn’t gonna get you anywhere with me. Though it sure is pretty the way you say my name.”

She mewled and whimpered as he slid his fingers into her, curling them back and forth against her walls. Stroking the spongy, sensitive areas that made her stomach tighten on reflex. The wet sounds of his fingers dragging in and out of her making her head spin. 

“So wet for me already,” he cooed.

She nodded, swallowing heavily, gulping for air and unable to get the words out to respond. 

“Just remember, angel. You asked for this.” His hand slapped against her ass cheek with a loud crack, leaving a bright pink hand print behind. 

Knees buckling, she squealed as he continued with several more hard spanks against her, the sting making her flesh hot, and despite the cold of the mountain, there was a sheen of sweat forming on her forehead. 

“You like being treated like an animal, don’t ya? Not enough I put a collar on you, is it? I gotta fuck you in the dirt too, huh?”

Kit couldn’t speak as he ravaged her with his hands, a tear rolling down her cheek as her thighs clenched together and her walls clamped down around him. She was so goddamn close; he was going to make her cum any second. 

Coiling her hair around his fist like the leather of a leash, he dragged her back to rest against his shoulder and he kissed her deeply, muffling her noises with his tongue, and biting down on her lower lip when she cried out. His hand snaked between her thighs from the front, focused entirely on her clit and she became a sobbing mess under his touch, panting and moaning at his rough touch against her. 

“Say it, kitten. Say it for me.”

Her body stiffened, her cunt left empty, but an inferno ripped through her entirely, her brow furrowing as she moaned through her aching chest. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

He grabbed her jaw and ran his tongue up the length of the side of her neck. Licking up her sweat, dragging his teeth against the beat of her pulse just under the skin. “That’s my good girl,” he growled, his lips pressed against her. 

Pushing her back to the ground, he flipped her over and ripped open the front of her shirt as well, the material falling away from her in shreds. With her back resting on top of her hands, she was made immobile under him as he threw her legs over his shoulders. 

Jacob collected her breasts in his large hands, squeezing at the flesh and the fat. Rolling her nipples between his thumb and finger and then pinching them. Hard . She could do nothing but cry out while her back arched, shoulders pressing into the earth as her head tipped back. His hands dragged down the curve of her waist, fingertips running against the sensitive flesh of her scars along her abdomen, his nails scratching at her pale skin leaving angry red lines behind and making her shiver. 

Her senses all heightened, her mind still on high alert from the chase, every touch of his against her felt like a spark of lightning shooting through her. Her heart pounded, her mind raced, and her lungs took in breath after breath of the pine filled air, the smell of the fresh glacier fed lake water drifting in the breeze was a heady perfume she was drenched in. Being with him, outside and on his mountain only made her blood flow faster. It was having the same effect on him as well, as he stared at her hungrily with darkened eyes made nearly black from his blown-out pupils. 

Kissing along the lengths of her calves, the whiskers of his beard scratched against her skin and the clotting cuts, burning her as his hands rubbed over muscle, massaging the scar tissue and fresh wounds alike, fighting off the freezing mountain air that chilled her. He stared at her from the corner of his eye, not taking his attention off of her for a single moment as she looked up at him panting, trying her best to adjust her hands to get comfortable. 

Holding her hips, he groaned as he lined the head of his cock up with her entrance and thrust deep inside of her. Dragging it back and forth, in and out of her, he slowly rocked his hips as she stretched open wider for him, coating him in her arousal. Teasing her as he pressed further into her, length disappearing as he bottomed out right to the base of his cock. Wiry ginger hair matted against hers while he filled her completely, only to pull out and then give her just the tip.  

Biting down on her lower lip, she whined and wriggled her hips trying to get him to go in deeper. 

“Look at you, squirming under me, all flushed and pretty looking. Can’t even take a little teasing, can you?” He shoved himself into her again and she cried out. Following every thrust with a stuttered group of words he strained to get out “I’m gonna. Have to. Train you. All over again. Aren’t I?” 

Her eyes rolled back into her head, the pressure inside becoming too much, going deeper than he ever had before. 

“Maybe keep you on that collar and leash permanently ‘til you learn your place again.”

She wriggled her legs free from his shoulders just enough to dig her heels in the dirt, trying to kick him off of her. 

Clamping his hands down on her thighs, he dragged her back towards him, scraping her back in the dirt and her howl met with the chorus of his roaming packs of Judges out in the forest. Jacob wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing it just tight enough to get her to stop moving as she focused on her breathing. 

“Where the fuck are you goin’? I’m not done with you yet.”

He grabbed the front of her thighs and pushed down against her until her knees pressed into her chest. Trapped in a mating press, all she could do was moan and mewl underneath him. Flushed from her chest to the tips of her ears, her skin glowed as bright a scarlet as her hair. Her whole body shook underneath him, quivering and spasming with how he treated her and her sensitive, aching cunt. Pounding into her relentlessly, his pale eyes stared down at her. More a wolf than a man, Jacob was allowed release from the rules and control that was expected of him as the Herald and as the leader of the Father’s army.

 "What happens, huh? What happens if I make this one take?"

"Suppose that's up to you, isn't it? Would you still want me?" She looked up at him, eyes searching his face for the answer.

"You know I would."

His mouth crashed down onto hers, his big hand brushing through the sweaty hair on her forehead and into the crown of copper hair on her head, continuing to thrust into her. Fucking into her as deep as he could go, as deep as she could take him. 

She was sure he’d hit her cervix several times, her cunt aching and sore, sharp stinging shots throbbed through her abdomen, but he wouldn’t let up – she didn’t want him to either – pain was part of the experience, it added to the whole and never retracted anything from it. What did she care when her body was already broken? 

“Fuck, Jacob, you’re so deep.”

Chuckling quietly while pressing wet, lazy kisses to her neck, his lips wrapped over where her carotid beat and he sucked on the pulsing, sweaty skin. Beads of his sweat dripped off the tip of his nose and rolled down her throat and onto her chest, mixing with her own. Picking up his pace, increasing the force with which he snapped his hips, Jacob began to grunt. His hot breath fanned against her, his brow furrowing as he growled from deep in his chest with a low rumble like thunder. 

“Feel so goddamn good, angel.”

He was getting close; the rhythm he had once now just as lost as he was at the sensation of having every inch of himself shoved deep inside of her. Groaning, fighting against the bitter ache in his gut that told him to use her for his own needs, to get whatever he wanted from her. She was tied up, trapped, and she couldn’t fight any longer (not that she would if she could). She was all his. 

“I’m gonna fill you up, angel. Gonna stuff you so full of my cum your little cunt isn’t gonna be able to hold it all.”

His fingers dug into her thighs, sharp stabbing thrusts of his cock inside her let her know he was nearly finished. His pace picking up, his balls slapping against her as his breath heaved out in pants. “Fuck,” he rasped. His breath hitched as his legs shuddered and spasmed, shaking as he flooded her womb. 

Laying on top of her, his cock softening, it slipped out of her, and his seed dripped from between her thighs that were all slick with both of their fluids. Seeping out of her (just like he said it would) onto the forest floor as he pressed lazy kisses to her lips, catching his breath between each meeting of their mouths. He rolled over to lay beside her and dragged the back of his hand across his forehead to wipe off the sweat, coughing and clearing the phlegm and debris that had caught in his lungs and throat. “Goddamn, kitten.” His arm wrapped over her and pulled her body in towards him, bathing her in the heat he seemed to radiate like a furnace. “This might have been one of your best ideas yet,” Jacob said with a smirk. “Didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?”

“No,” she mumbled, still somewhat in a daze, the afterglow telling her to give into much needed sleep, but she fought the urge to close her eyes.

“Good.” He brushed his hand over the damp hairs that clung to her cheek and kissed her forehead before taking off his field jacket and draping it over her. “Better get back soon before you catch your death out here.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed before nuzzling up against him, wrapping herself up entirely in the safety of him. Surrendering. 

[icey--stars]

Born For Tragedy: Part 15

Series Index

She was tragedy. Nothing except death, fear and pain followed in her wake. When she was young, she was beaten. Now she’s the one doing the beating as an assassin. A mysterious stranger comes to her, paying an absurd amount of money for her to kill Beron Vanserra, and protect the eldest son until the job is done. She stumbles across a story much similar to her own, and knows what must be done.

a/n: *begins sobbing hysterically* THE ENDING MADE ME CRY WHILE WRITING. YALL ENJOY.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

She felt almost manic as she paced the freezing floors of the Underworld. Valda still couldn’t get over the fact that Eris Vanserra was her damn mate. It shouldn’t be possible. She was nowhere near the strength of him… right?

She swore at herself profusely before noticing a letter fluttering to the floor in front of her. Valda picked it up and tore open the seal as soon as she saw it was addressed to the Shadow.

Shadow,

Your payment will be provided upon our next meeting. Find me on the edge of the Middle, Dawn Court side. Make sure you’re near the Weaver’s Cottage. I’ll see you in a week.

Sincerely,

Your Client

Valda sighed, rubbing her forehead. That location was fine. She had a gold storage there. It concerned her that the letter had been spelled to find her identity and appear before her, but she could sort that out later.

But still, how was she about to deal with this stupid golden thread in her chest? She could feel vague bits of panic, worry and other unidentifiable emotions. She couldn’t fully reject the bond since that was told to drive males to insanity. She also couldn’t hurt him like that.

Goddamn it, she swore at herself. What did she want? She wanted Eris safe. She needed to protect Eris from her. She was everything that made him unsafe. Especially now. Now, she was a weakness to him.

In danger, he’d be compelled to protect her and that alone could get him killed.

She could push down her own feelings to protect him. Right? She’d done it before to protect herself. Now she just had to shove it down under again and cover that darkness within her over it.

She took a deep breath and looked toward the 5 thrones on the dais in the room. The very thrones that her Masters had perished upon.

Suddenly, she heard the boom of spears against the ground and the marching of boots in one of the passages. Valda covered herself in dark mist, sprinting for the darkest corner of the room.

Winter Court soldiers came in, their icy, pale skin and white or brown hair giving them away. Not mentioning the spears. Those damn idiots loved their spears, even if they were marching. With what she’d done, stringing up the bodies of her Masters, she knew full well that eventually this place would be found, but she didn’t expect them to patrol it.

“Why do we still patrol this place?” A female asked.

Valda held back a scoff and listened closely.

“Because this used to be the biggest assassin hub in Prythian, so be quiet. You never know when one might come back.”

“It’s not like we’re going to find the Shadow here or something,” A male drawled. “This place is abandoned. Those thrones are just dust.”

She shifted her weight onto her other leg and heard a rather loud crack under it. Darting her gaze down, she stared in wonder as she saw the ceramic tiles cracking under weight so little as hers. However, it also gave her away.

The patrol had frozen, staring at her.

“Is that…” the male who had mentioned her hesitated. Oh what great irony.

“Reveal yourself!” The reasonable one shouted. “Or we will kill you!”

Valda sighed, and gathered enough of herself to focus on a potential fight. Then she dropped her mist, letting it flow back into her as she walked out of the shadows.

“Now what?” She asked, a fake smirk plastered onto her face to seem more intimidating. “You can see me now. How amazing.”

“Are you fucking serious-” The ironic one growled.

“Get her,” The reasonable one ordered, apparently the patrol leader. The others leaped to obey, running toward me. Valda stayed perfectly still. The first two, the ironic one and female were the first to arrive. They were turned into a bloody mist within seconds.

The others stopped dead as their jaws dropped open.

Valda felt the drop in her, the exhaustion looming over her, but she curled darkness into her palm like she was going to throw it toward them.

Then ice magic was thrown into her, freezing her torso as she was thrown backwards. She gasped in pain at the freezing temperature, rolling onto her side to draw a sword and winnow to the other end of the room.

But as soon as she’d gained her footing again, ignoring the freezing burn across her, they’d made it to her new location.

Valda grunted as more ice was thrown around her arms, throwing her into the wall. Then ice shackles bolted her to the wall. She snarled, yanking the arm holding the sword hard, but it didn’t work.

“Soldiers,” the leader growled. “Regroup. Kallias will want to know about this and deal out her fate personally.”

The others paused, but obeyed.

Valda let out a loud snarl. “You let me go this instant!” She screamed, attempting to winnow free, but finding herself more drained than usual. It was also freezing. Her torso hurt like it was burning, but she knew better than that.

They left, running out and then winnowing.

Valda almost screamed in frustration. Cauldron and Mother, what had she done? Mistakes had been made and she could’ve done so much better than that-

She’d trained against Winter Court! She’d trained against every court and yet here she was, her arms stretched out on either side of her with ice shackles keeping her on the wall.

Why had she failed? She wasn’t that distracted, was she? Was she really that pathetic over finding out who her mate was?

A very quiet part of her she wished she could drown completely answered: “Yes.”

Valda growled in frustration, yanking her arms again, trying to get up, but finding her torso was a burning icy pain she couldn’t battle.

When she finally gave up on escaping the shackles, she took in the fact the floor was cold.

The floor was cold.

It wasn’t warm like the Forest House had been. Like Eris’s old room had been. She loved those blankets for that reason. So warm when they wrapped around her. It made her feel so content-

She was truly going insane.

She was missing the political residence of a High Lord.

The quiet part of her growled “Your mate’s residence.”

Valda snarled at that part of her, yanking even harder to escape, or at least quell her growing rage. It didn’t work, naturally.

At this point, maybe she was manic. Pacing around the place where she killed some important people was already bad enough, but getting trapped down there and being unable to escape some measly ice shackles? She was pathetic.

“Right down here, my lord. We found her in the corner-” The leader of the patrol was saying.

“Shh,” a new male growled. “She can hear us.”

“Right, sorry, my lord.”

A male with icy blue eyes, pale white hair and skin came out of the passageway that led to the surface, his eyes immediately finding mine.

“I suppose you weren’t wrong then,” The male mused. “The Shadow is truly here and alive. Considering the fact you’d killed Beron, I wasn’t so sure.”

Valda let out a snarl, yanking hard on her bindings.

An ice wall suddenly formed around her, hardening within seconds and making the outside look glassy and otherworldly. The ice shackles melted and she leaped to her feet to bang against the wall.

“I’m afraid Eris Vanserra has asked for all information regarding the Shadow, so I can claim no justice. You did kill his father,” the male chuckled. It was then she recognized him. Kallias. The leader had been getting Kallias, the High Lord of the Winter Court.

This was a High Lord that had her trapped.

“Let me out,” She growled.

“I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if she’d gone insane after all the years,” Kallias mused to the leader of the patrol. “What do you think?”

“She certainly plays the part, sir.”

Kallias turned back toward me, and blew his breath onto the ice until it melted enough for us to see each other clearly. Though, it still wasn’t thin enough to break with just banging against it relentlessly.

“Eris will pay you a visit soon, Shadow. I think my version of torture would’ve been meriful in comparison to what the newest High Lord of Autumn has in mind.”

She wanted to scream how wrong that statement was. Eris would never be angry at someone for killing his abusive father. Secondly, he’d never harm his mate, the one he’d just protected. But she didn’t.

Kallias snorted in mock laughter. “I always meant to thank you, by the way. The Underworld was a pain in my ass for the longest time. But do tell me: How did you assassinate the most powerful leaders of that group?”

Valda glared at Kallias through the ice. “I didn’t,” she growled. “I killed them. I killed my own Masters.”

Kallias hummed curiously. “I suppose it would make sense if the Shadow was trained by them. But you should’ve never returned here.”

She banged against the ice with her fist. “Let me out, Kallias,” she ordered. “Let me out.”

The High Lord fixed her with a gaze as if bored. “As I said, Eris will pay a visit soon. Do try to be patient.”

“You can’t keep me here!” She screamed as he turned away. “You can’t!”

Kallias didn’t turn back, marching right out.

Valda finally let out that frustrated scream.

It didn’t help in the slightest.

Here she was, trapped in a High Lord’s power, weak and injured, with the very person she had to stay away from, coming to her. She was utterly fucked.

She tried using her sword to hack away at the ice, but only managed to make a small slice with one very strong throw of her arm. After that, she studied the edge of her blade and growled in frustration when she found it folded. Gods, she’d have to sharpen that out of it, but it also meant she had no way out.

She tried to winnow just outside of the ice, using the last few dregs of her power to do so. But with her being in an almost manic state of frustration, panic, worry, having misted two Winter Court soldiers and winnowed a shit ton, she was done. Even then, she doubted that Kallias had left without warding the area temporarily.

“Fuck,” she muttered, leaning against the frozen wall heavily.

She didn’t even know what to do once Eris got here. What was she supposed to do? Growl at him and reject his presence even after wanting his warmth so much? No, that’d be impossible. That quiet part of her would lunge out of the cage she’d built for it and take over.

Mother, that quiet part of her must hate her. It’d been the part of her screaming every moment that Eris had been kind and shown a side of him that was different from the perfect heir of the Autumn Court. It was relentless when it screamed. Only practice kept it down and tethered. But if her mate came in here and freed her like she knew he would, she was utterly fucked when it came to resisting him a second time.

The first time, leaving him in the garden of the Forest House, was hard enough. To feel the emotions from him so near and the ones that screamed protect and the hope that had flickered in his eyes.

She wouldn’t be able to leave a second time. She hadn’t been able to after killing Beron. Now she was just as weak, but with a mating bond that made that quiet part of her louder and louder. It wanted to find him and be near him. Love him.

Cauldron, she did love Eris. She loved every bit of him. His eyes, his hair, his soul. She loved the way they were similar, even if it was so horrific because it meant that she could understand him and he could understand her. She loved the way he cared for his dogs. She loved the way he could talk about her favorite book with her. She loved the way they could banter with each other so freely and smile. Gods, that smile captured her attention and made her mind go blank in the best way. She wanted to see that smile more.

She was in love with fucking Eris Vanserra. Her mate.

“Kallias if you don’t tell me where the fuck she is, I’m going to burn you alive,” a voice filtered through her ice prison.

She jumped, immediately standing straight and straining through the little window Kallias had created to see that familiar face.

There was no escaping now.

She just had to accept it and deal with the consequences for leaving. She could do that… right?

“She’s down here, Eris. Chill out.”

���Was that a pun, Kallias? I don’t appreciate you joking about this,” Eris snarled.

“Just walk down the damn passage. Cauldron, can’t you just trust me?”

“Where are we even?”

“The location for the assassin society known as the Underworld. Apparently, the Shadow trained here. She was the one to kill the leaders though. Now, go look on the right wall, she’s in the ice.”

“Ice?” Eris’s voice sounded deadly calm. Lethal.

“You’re so fucking confusing,” Kallias groaned. “Just go, winnow out of here. I’m leaving.”

Eris didn’t reply, but Valda heard his footsteps coming closer and another set moving farther away.

Eris came out of the passageway and spotted her in that ice prison. His eyes went molten with rage and within seconds, fire licked at the ice, and it cracked. Then fell apart.

She remained where she was, sword now sheathed as she faced Eris down.

Eris looked at her as he stopped a few yards away.

Valda swallowed, almost nervously, before she finally cleared her throat to speak. “I’m sorry.”

Eris just ran forward at that and threw his arms around her, embracing her with his warmth.

Valda knew she would never escape now. She’d have to find another way to keep her terror at bay for his safety.

But for now? For now… she’d bask in this comfortable warmth now seeping into her bones. It made the frost bitten burn on her torso flare up, but she couldn’t care less. It was probably a good thing it was getting heat.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered again.

Eris pulled back briefly to look at her and then hugged her even closer. “You have nothing to apologize for. You are safe now.”

Safe. The word snagged in her brain and she let out a whimpering noise, burying her face into Eris’s neck.

“I’m sorry I ran,” she choked out.

“Shh…” Eris rubbed her back with one arm, keeping the other tightly across her lower back to keep her close. “I understand,” he whispered. “It’s okay to be scared.”

Her eyes widened at that. Eris had been feeling every godsdamned emotion since she left. Weaker than now, when it must be overwhelming, but he knew. He understood.

“You’re safe now,” Eris repeated. “Safe with me.” She nodded into his neck and let that little quiet part of her free. It basked in that warmth and that feeling of hope, love and safety. She cared, and that was okay. She was safe in his arms. She was his mate as much as he was hers. She loved him.

“Stay,” Eris whispered. “Stay with me.”

She would never say “can’t” to that question again. “Always,” she whispered back and pulled back just enough to press her lips to his.

He surged forward to press back and at that moment, she knew she couldn’t take it back. She swore silently that she would stay with him, always.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @imma-too-many-fandoms, @mali22, @sassybluebird, @bubybubsters,

[heller-castiel]

You Can Start to Make it Better (Beautiful, Beautiful Boy)

here's the fic I wrote for Dean's birthday, I hope y'all like it !

The night Jack's finally ready to reform heaven and give up his Godly powers he pulls Dean into heaven to bring someone back, one last time.

Or: Dean Winchester works through his mommy issues with some heavenly therapy.

She hadn’t meant to call John a “Goddamned bastard” in front of Dean, but the slack jawed disbelief on John’s face as he met Dean’s eyes sated something beneath Mary’s skin, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it. 

“You bitch,” John hissed, storming out the living room behind her, boots heavy on the floor and his anger heavy in the air, and Dean’s small body recoiled from his father passing him, waiting for the slam of the door before he edged out from behind the wall he stood. Mary felt an itch on her face that felt suspiciously like a grin. She brought her fingers to her face, surprised that her hand found her mouth to be thin and drawn down, drops of wetness where her dimples should be. She popped her damp finger on her tongue and tasted salt. 

She woke up from her daze and met Dean’s eyes, wide and green and trembling, and she crouched down to reach for her only son, and he fell forward to meet her. He asked, “Where’d Daddy go?” soft and weak. Scared. Mary felt a vitriolic joy in saying, “He left us baby. Daddy left us,” and she held him gently to her chest where Dean clung to her, fists clutched in her blouse, his little body trembling. 

It had been such a joy, to hold her baby in her arms, to cradle him warm and close, rub her cheek on his soft blonde hair and shush him quiet. To ward him away from the shadows John’s presence had made, throw open the curtains and bask in the hazy glow of sunlight. Dean was his father’s, but today he was hers, soft and aching for love the way John never was. The way she needed someone to ache for her, for someone to need her brand of love. 

John returned, inevitably, and Mary found herself at once relieved and aggrieved that he had come back to her. That he had always come back to her. 

Her father had died so that she could have this. Her mother had died so that she could have this. She could at least do them the courtesy of not toying with her marriage. 

Try as she did to settle her bones into the shallow little domestic grave she had carved for herself, she couldn’t rest. She longed for home, the steady grip of her favorite gun in her hand, a calm knife in her palm, thumb flicking across the blade, the sharp edge settling an itch just under her skin. She craved the burn of fire on her skin, and more often than not she found that fire in John’s eyes, his body igniting into the gasoline Mary had all but poured at his feet. 

And still he came back, chose her, hot hands cradling her face, long body tall against her, apology stale out of his smirking mouth, and she was chosen. 

She watched him press a whiskey warm kiss to Dean’s forehead, tucked in safe in his bed, having long since fallen asleep asking about his father. “He left us, baby,” She had said, drawing the covers tight over his shoulders. Dean’s mouth had drawn downward, his happy freckles stark against his frown. 

“Mommy?” He’d said. “I won’t leave you.”

Mary smiled, kissed him on his forehead. “Angels are watching over you,” She had whispered. 

Now she watched John bent over her son, all the monsters hidden far from the room. 

Eager, she pulled John out of the room, heels tripping over plastic dinosaurs, hands on hips and thighs and backs, bumping into walls, fumbling to their room, Mary whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and she grinned when John told her, harsh, to Shut up, Mary, his teeth dragging against her lip, and she was -

She was kissing him, chasing his mouth and kissing him, tasting the whiskey on his tongue and drinking it off of him, chasing the whiskey she used to drink, pulling him into her, choosing him, and she was burning. 

She licked her lips and tasted whiskey, warm and wet, and traced her mouth with now uncalloused fingers, making sure she was truly smiling this time.

Two months later she rested a hand on her belly, looking at the positive pregnancy test laying flat on the counter, and thought of calling her child “Sammy.”

She holds Dean now, cradles him to her chest, looking down at his furrowed brow, his soft three year old voice gruff with a fourty year old man’s anger, cracking at the edges, demanding to be put the fuck down.

(Read the rest on ao3)

[maybankxw]

𝐰𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings: mature content ahead! [ fingering; teasing; oral, male receiving; unprotected sex;] minors dni!!!

summary: the girl is teasing jj to the point where he gives up and gives in

word count: 2.5k

a/n: my personal favourite, kind of inspired by ‘wet dream’ song! enjoy!

links: masterlist / taglist / ask box

any feedback (comments, reblogs, anon asks) would be appreciated! (gif is mine)

Windows down, soft warm wind caressed the skin of my face, ruffling my hair, making a mess out of it. My eyes narrowed, nose scrunched up and a smile tugged on my lips. I was in pure excitement. John B’s van was my most favourite thing to drive and now, I owned it all to myself. I loved a good company, but clearing my head, staying on my own for a bit was like a gulp of fresh air. The sun was about to start setting down, painting the sky into peachy pink.

Landscape after landscape changed itself. The outer banks was a mesmerising place, I could never get tired of it. 

I sped up, trying to avoid all the bumps, miles passed and I spotted a familiar figure in the distance. 

She waited for me. Damn this fucking girl and her little games. 

She leaned against the road sign, arms folded on her chest, a knotted maroon top covered her breasts, it was flimsy though, I could see her nipples through it, a tiny skirt that almost bared her ass, martens boots matching the colour of her top and white socks peeking out of the edges, her hair pinned up in a messy bun. She looked sexy. I noticed a nasty smirk curling on her lips when I stopped the car and waited for her to get in. There wasn’t a soul around, only us and an old player blasting the song on repeat.

Sounds like a fucking cliché, but I swear it felt like we were in a goddamn movie.

She swung her legs in and plopped to her seat, shutting the door and letting the pins from her hair drop, allowing her strands to fall over her shoulders in loose waves. I watched her as she put her seatbelt on and rolled the window down, sliding lower in her seat. Her bare thighs tempted me and the look on her face, taunting and needy and captivating, beckoned me to drown, like she weaved a spell over me by simply looking into my eyes.

“How much did you have?” I asked, referring to the alcohol, she always loved to have a shot or a few. My eyes were fixed on the road while I twisted the key and started the van again, changing gear and pushing the gas pedal.

“Didn’t drink,” she shifted and leaned close to my ear, “I knew you wouldn’t fuck me drunk, since you’re such a gentleman and all. Had only water the whole day,” she grinned, propping her legs on the windshield.

Her arm stretched out of the window and she relaxed, a faint smile curled on her lip as she caught the breeze, drawing a wave with her palm, grasping the leather seat with her free hand and I tried my best to stay focused on the road, veering to the right, then left, escaping another huge bump on our way.

“It’s always nice with you,”  she turned her head in my direction, I felt her staring, “I wish we could have this sweet type of love, you know.” 

She pulled a cigarette out of the glove compartment, clamping it between her teeth, pawing for a lighter. Clink, a tiny flame burned and she lighted a cig, shoving the lighter back to its place. 

She made a tug and let out a cloud of white smoke, which dissipated with the wind, gazing outside as we drove, fiddling with her necklace, pinching the cigarette between her fingers. Another tug and then she held it out to my lips, I accepted.

I could taste her, my grip on the steering wheel tightened, but I made a short tug and let her have the rest. 

“I had a dream,” she pushed, “A wet dream.”

I glanced at her, curious, and a smirk stretched on her face when she noticed. She looked at me with seducing half lidded eyes.

“Guess who was there.”

“You’re here telling me this, it’s obvious.”

She blew out a puff of air, throwing the cig away, her palm was suddenly on my thigh, rubbing it up to my cock, which started hardening in an instant, “Don’t be rude.” When she found her way to the erection in my pants, I groaned, a strangled deep sound but she heard. 

I caught a bump she smiled, satisfied, jerking her hand away. A fucking distraction. Pushing off of her seat, she caught the straps of her panties and slowly dragged them off, her skirt rode up an inch higher and I swallowed thickly. Her underwear flew to my side and hung over the steering wheel. 

She was so fucking obscene with me, I’ve never seen her behave like this with anyone else, not in the slightest, no flirting or playful touches at the parties, not trying to seduce any of our friends, even though she had all their attention. All the time. 

Right heel dug into the leather, when she bent her knee and propped her leg up on the seat, pushing her other one further apart. Her fingers darted to her clit and she moaned, so disgustingly intimate I almost chocked on air.

“Enough of this,” I managed to keep my voice steady, tapping the side of the window, the song on the radio went “Baby do you want to come home with me?”

“What, that turns you on?” she teased, rubbing her cunt with two fingers. I knew she was wet as hell, and I wished I was the one touching her, but I let her put on a show. My sight remained on the road, but her breathy little whimpers invaded my mind, disturbing me, making me clutch the steering wheel harder and grit my jaws together. 

“You fucked me against your kitchen counter, then we moved to the bathroom and I sucked you off,” she chuckled, the sounds of her fingers pushing in and out getting sloppier and more audible, “You tasted so good, J,” she moaned, throwing her head back, “I let you fuck me on your desk, on your bed, on your living room couch,” she said breathless, fingering herself faster. 

My cock was so hard, it was painful, I had to slow the car down a bit not to get into a car crash. 

“Look at me.”

I did. Fuck me, I did. I watched her touching herself to the images of me fucking her. I could picture it vividly as she spoke about it. Her face was pure need and lust, her arm reached out to me, trying to undo the belt, with an effort, but she succeeded. The van came to a halt, but I still gripped the steering wheel, watching her every move. She pushed my boxers down, my cock jutted out, deep red, begging for relief. She stuck her tongue out and demonstratively licked her palm, looking me in the eyes, bringing it to back to fist my cock. He strokes were gentle, her nails grazing my balls. I grunted, shifting in my seat, squeezing my eyes shut for a few seconds. Her thumb pressed her clit and her spine arched off of the backrest as she locked in a long spasm, panting and moaning, desperately biting onto her lip to suppress the dirty sounds she was making, holding my cock tighter, making me inhale sharply.

We looked at each other, lids heavy, breaths uneven, our lips parted, the tension getting unbearable. I placed my palm on her thigh, tugging her closer. In a rush she crawled over and straddled my lap, our bare skin touched and we both let out pornographic sounds, unable to keep away anymore. She shifted her hips teasingly and I gripped them, digging my fingers into her skin, causing her to hiss. I shoved her skirt up to her waist and pushed it over her head along with her top, throwing it to the side. It was getting darker, the sky turned almost purple, but I still could see her features perfectly. She undid the buttons on my black short sleeved shirt and pushed my shorts lower to my knees.

“You’re a handful, you know that?” I muttered, watching hr smiling viciously.

She only dove in for a kiss, taking my face in her palms, her tongue slipped in and I bit her, my hand closed at the back of her neck and I won over, pushing my tongue into her mouth, sucking on her lower lip. She bucked her hips again and I growled into her mouth, she swallowed it. I lifted her up and sat her down on my cock, easing myself inside slow and deliberate, so she felt me filling her every inch. 

“Don’t move,” I whispered and placed another kiss on her lips, veering to her throat, then her chest. I teased her with the tip of my tongue, drawing little circles around her nipple, a cry burst out of her and I sucked her nipple into my mouth. She clenched around me, her fingers tangled in my hair, pushing my face further into her skin. I sucked like I was fucking starving, taking as much as I could fit in my mouth, grazing the swollen bud with my teeth. 

She ground on me and I slapped her ass for doing so, “I told you to be still.”

I came to play with her other boob, leaving the first one wet and throbbing, pinching her nipple with the pads of my fingers. She buried her nose into my hair, suppressing her whimpers. Now, she was out of control, completely at my mercy, indulging and clinging to me. She loved fucking me and god help me, I loved fucking her too. This girl was made for me.

“JJ,” she kissed the top of my head, swaying to the right then left, she tipped my chin up and caught my gaze, “Fuck me.” My blood burned, she made it so fucking hard to think straight. I slid lower and thrusted my hips up, holding onto her waist, helping her move. She leaned over the steering wheel, giving more space of her body for me to explore. My palms moved to the back of her thighs and I held her captive, pushing her legs wider, fucking her deep and slow. Her fingers found her clit, but I slapped her hand away, pushing my thumb into her lips to moisturise it and replaced her finger with mine, rubbing the swollen bud, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. I loved the way her body responded to me.

“Oh, fuck you,” she trembled, looking down at where we were locked together, watching me sliding in and out of her.

“As you wish, baby.”

I tugged her back into our previous position and made her do the work. She lifted herself up and down repeatedly, our bodies slapping together, the air hot and thick, filled with perfume and sex.

She clutched the doorframe, lips brushed my ear, eliciting a groan from me. My hands skimmed her body, not sure where to land. She was fucking mesmerising and I wanted all of her.

“Come all over me,” I rasped, sucking onto her neck, marking her soft skin, making her mine again and again, “I want to see you tremble, while your tight little pussy clenches around my cock.”

Her thighs shook and her cunt rippled, her cum coated me, but she kept moving, her walls tightened around me, triggering my own orgasm.

My cock jerked, thick warm liquid spilled inside her and I groaned into her neck, sinking my teeth into her skin. 

Her lips found mine and she shut me up with a kiss, hot and intimate, biting my lip so hard, I sensed the coppery taste in my mouth. She probably did too, because that satisfied mile of hers was spreading on her face again.

“I love fucking you,” she whispered into my mouth, still slightly grinding on me, my cum leaking out of her and down to my balls, “Can never get enough.”

I smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her nose grazed my cheek and her lips touched the corner of mine. She trailed a path down and found my neck, sucking in response, marking me too. It was fun thing about her, when we fucked, she always turned into a helpless girl, leaving all the reins to me, even though she could be that bold, masturbating for an audience. She worked me up and then submitted. I loved it. 

Her nails scratched my chest and my abdomen and involuntary I tensed. She pushed herself up and off of my lap, kneeling on the seat next to me. 

Fresh breeze from the window stifled the heat that crept up to my neck and let me get back to reality for a second, because the other one, her hand was on my cock again, gripping and stroking it leisurely as she planting kisses on my stomach. I hardened again. 

“What’s this for?”

“Because I want it. It’s not for you, it’s for me.”

I chuckled, threading my fingers through her hair, feeling her lips swirling over the swollen head of my cock, sucking gently, and lapping up the trickle that met her tongue, the remains of my cum and her cum blended together. She moaned, sending vibrations through my body and my breaths turned ragged, my chest rose and fell faster, “Fuck, you feel good,” I breathed out. Her head dove lower and lifted up as she sucked me off, taking me as deep as she could. My hand reached her cunt and I slipped a finger inside her, easily, she was getting wet all over again. Jesus fucking christ. She moaned, bobbing her head up and down faster, squeezing my balls in her hand, slick with cum.

“You like that? Sucking my cock, while I fuck you with my fingers?”

She scratched my thigh, the meaning behind the action was for me to shut up and I retrieved my fingers, making her shudder. It was entertaining.

But she grazed me with her teeth and I groaned, fisting her hair and slamming two of my fingers back inside of her warm cunt. She cried out, her voice vibrated through me, spurring me to come.

She pulled away and licked a flat stripe up the underside of the base and looked up to meet my eyes, so fucking hot.

“I do,” she grind her ass back and took me back into her mouth, sucking until she felt me twitching.

“I’ll spill in your mouth, if you don’t stop now.”

She didn’t stop, she moved faster, squeezing my balls and I came, hard, white ribbons of my cum coated her tongue and she swallowed every drop of it. Fuck. 

When she sat back up I grabbed a hold of her chin and covered my mouth with hers kissing slow and wet.

“Stay at mine tonight,” I suggested, coiling a strand of her hair over my finger.

“Why, you wanna fuck me again?”

“I just want you to stay with me,” I let her hair fall and locked my gaze with hers, “I can fuck you, tuck you in or whatever you want. I just want you close.”

“Okay,” she mouthed, brushing my hair off of my forehead, kissing my lips again, “I do too.”

tags: @icedcold @pankowforlife @novxturient @mackenzielovee @alwaysclassyeagle @kaelibaby @sunset-styles @maybanks-luver @nope-thanks @absolute-fcking-chaos @tomhollandlol @blueicequeen19 @loveyru @rottenstyx @drewbooooo @rafecameronswhore @sansasdove @herejustforjj @ameliaalvarez06 @my-baexht-ls @colbysxplr @chaostudee @i-always-come-back-xoxo @luversgirl @vintageirene @wannabestarkeysgirl @liamthedunbar @instabull @dudenhaaa27 @jessmaybank @ofherscarlettwitchways @kayleiggh @harryspunchingbag​ 

[princess-josephina]

Fruity Four Advent Calendar 2-12: Snow

So sorry to be slightly late with this, had it in the drafts but I was picking up my best friend from the airport yesterday and I hadn't seen her in 6 months

AO3 link

The snowstorm's been raging in Hawkins for several days non stop. Steve and Eddie have been taking turns shoveling the snow from Steve's driveway, because getting snowed in doesn't sound all that romantic when you only have enough food for a couple more days. 

Today, it's Eddie's turn, and Steve should have known something's up when he's been outside for way longer than necessary; in his defense, the movie he's been watching was quite captivating, so he only realizes Eddie’s been gone for almost an hour when he hears the front door open and shut. And then he turns the corner to see Eddie and just knows. Because Eddie's covered in snow head to toe, frozen lumps of it stuck in a mess of hair, even though the weather's been actually clear all morning; but the biggest giveaway is the fake-innocent smile his boyfriend gives him as he toes off his boots. "Hiya, Stevie."

"Eddie." Steve folds his arms on his chest and narrows his eyes. "Eddie. What did you do?"

"Nothing," Eddie replies, choking on giggles as he breezes past Steve into the kitchen. 

Steve doesn't believe him, so he opens the door and peers outside. The driveway is clear of the snow. His car looks fine. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. What the hell? Confused, he shuts the door and goes to join Eddie in the kitchen.

"Eds. I know you did something. You're in that mood."

"What mood?" The bastard bats his eyelashes at him, still smiling as he pours boiled water from the kettle into two mugs.

"Your prank mood."

"No idea what you mean, Stevie." Eddie grins and offers one mug to Steve. "Tea?" 

It's much later, when Steve goes upstairs to grab something from his room, that he accidentally glances out of the window and groans.

"God dammit, EDDIE!!!" 

He can hear his boyfriend's cackling the whole time he takes to get back downstairs. Still giggling and wiping tears from his eyes by the time Steve gets up in his face, and he's goddamn adorable like this, and his laughter is so addictive Steve's chuckling, too, even as he tries to scold him.

"Did you seriously draw a giant snow dick on my front lawn?!"

Eddie giggles harder, dropping his forehead onto Steve's shoulder, and Steve rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically.

"It's official. I'm dating a five year old."

"You love me," Eddie retorts, and Steve hugs him. Can't argue with that.

"Yeah, I do, you absolute weirdo."

Several days later, Steve stops by the upstairs window and sighs. Despite more snowfall, the giant dick outline is still very visible. By now it's probably the number one gossip topic among his annoying neighbors. 

Truthfully, he doesn't really care if his parents find out about this. He's a total disappointment to them anyway, and that's without them knowing he's a queer, and in love with Eddie "The freak" Munson. He's just worried stuff like that will bring too much attention to them. If anyone looks too closely, they might notice how said freak never seems to leave the Harrington residence, except to go to work or shop for groceries. How he wraps his arms around Steve in the morning and kisses his neck while Steve makes breakfast; they're careful to keep the curtains closed, most of the time, but not always. This town doesn't need another reason to whip out their pitchforks against Eddie.

He turns his head, and his eyes widen at the sight of Eddie, nearly thigh deep in the snow on the other side of the lawn, drawing what looks suspiciously like…

"That better not be a butt, Eddie!" He opens the window to yell, and Eddie looks up to grin at him.

"It's not a butt! Promise!" He keeps moving, pushing his way through the snow to slowly form a shape, and Steve finally sees what it is as Eddie turns a sharp corner at the bottom of it. A few minutes later, Eddie spreads his arms and sings, "Ta-da!", looking up at Steve from the top of a giant snow heart. 

Steve's stomach sinks, because it's so sweet it's unfair. This is what Eddie's love looks like. Stupid, reckless, unashamed, loud. Too loud for fucking Hawkins. 

Steve shuts the window and walks downstairs, pulls on a pair of boots and his jacket. Outside, he finds Eddie smiling sheepishly at him as he carves what looks suspiciously like the letter S in the middle of the heart. Dammit. Wordlessly, Steve grabs him by the hand and pulls him back towards the house, ignoring Eddie's complaints about ruining his masterpiece.

"Let's get the fuck out of Hawkins," he blurts out, facing Eddie once they are safely back indoors, in his living room.

"What?" Eddie stops in the middle of tugging off his coat. "Where would we go?"

"I don't know. Indy. Chicago. California. Somewhere you can do that," he points out of the window, "and I'm not on the verge of freaking out that people will put 2 and 2 together and try to hurt you." He reaches for Eddie, stops halfway and groans with frustration, jerks at the window curtain so hard it nearly rips, hiding them from the risk of prying eyes. "See? This is what I mean." He sighs, finally safe to wrap his arms around his boyfriend. "I wanna go somewhere I can hold you like this, and the worst thing that would happen is a disgusted look from some bigoted asshole."

Eddie's quiet for a long moment, chewing on his lip. Then, he smiles softly and cups Steve's cheek; his palm is freezing cold, but Steve doesn't care, leans into the touch and chuckles, relieved, as Eddie finally responds.

"Can Cali be our first option? I'm actually kind of sick of shoveling snow."

A/N: This is totally the kinda face I was thinking about writing this.

[benjinoff13]

Black widow suits: Age of Ultron

It’s finally time for me to talk about my hatred for natasha’s Age of Ultron suit, if you don’t like negativity this post isn’t for you because I really don’t have anything good to say lmao

Let me start off by saying that I am biased, my opinion on the suit is influenced by the fact that I really don’t like Age of Ultron, it was one of the mcu movies that had the most potential to be amazing but it was just executed so porely 

Now let’s talk about why we’re really here, I’m gonna make a list of reasons why I don’t like the suit 

1. Fabric

The material just straight up annoys me, I don’t like the way the folds look idk how to explain it but it just looks cheap, rough and uncomfortable, I’m a big fan of using different kinds of fabric (like with the Winter Soldier suit) but it just doesn’t work here, the stitches look bad, and there is a lot of unnecasary patches that just don’t look good like the ones on her shoulders 

2. Glow thingies

Those goddamn glow sticks, what was the reason???? So enemies can spot her better? It just doesn’t make any sense, I wouldn’t have minded it if it at least looked good but it doesn’t 

3. Gloves + weapons 

Why so big?? I’m guessing betweeen Avengers and Age of Ultron Stark might have created some new weapons for the group including Natasha which is why her widow bites look different than in the other movies but they just look so heavy and unnecessary, she always did fine without that canon strapped to her wrists so why add them now? Again it looks cheap, it’s giving CW instead of MCU, I also just really don’t like the red gloves it’s a good idea in theory but it’s was executed porely, it would have worked better if the suit had been all black, I also don’t like that the gloves cover her fingers, I think fingerless gloves like the ones in Black Widow work way better, it’s definitely easier to work a gun that way and it doesn’t get hot and sweaty like normal gloves would 

3. Boots

WHAT IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK ARE THOSE?? I’m not gonna pay too much attention to the heels cause we all understand that that’s stupid by now but overall they’re just ugly, how does she tighten them?? Where are the laces?? Why the fucking platform, what are those straps underneath her calves? that would be so annoying while running I’m just so tired by now I’m actually getting fed up looking at this picture so I’m stopping now 

4. Chest

Now, as someone with a similair chest size to natasha I am telling you it is horrible. This?

is NOT going to work, just look at her chest in the Age of Ultron suit compared to the Black Widow suits 

The black widow suit does what a sports bra does, it pushes your boobs closer to your chest so it’s compressed and that way they don’t move around when you run, jump etc, now when you compare that to the Age of Ultron suit you see that that suit is doing the exact opposite, it has boob cups (I hate them so much) so the stichting underneath and around the boobs and the additional fabric actually lift them up and bring them out more, it kind of has the effect of a push-up bra and that would really really get in the way while fighting and exersizing believe me, your boobs would go absolutely everywhere, it hurts and it slows you down, it does. not. work, it’s just a bad design, I wouldn’t be surprised if the costume desginer got told to design it that way by the men in charge of this movie 

Anyway that was my presentaion. Does anybody have any questions? 

[mayhemproduces]

Sardonyx vs The Indy God, Matt Cardona

Yes, unfortunately ladies and gentlemen, we’ve come to the truly terrible portion of the evening where we must acknowledge the *self proclaimed* Deathmatch King, Matt Cardona. despite his clear attempts to drag out the time with his usual pre-match shenanigans, Sardonyx has stood in his face without hesitation. Steph De Lander is at ringside, already shit talking as Scarlett is opposite her, silently watching as her appearance here evens the odds.

Cardona almost looks hesitant to actually hit Sardonyx, but a swift kick to his midsection from Sardonyx melts away all of his apprehension. he immediately goes for a lariat, but Sardonyx ducks and uses the energy from hitting the ropes to hit him with a harsh running neckbreaker that sends him crumbling to the mat. she immediately goes to grab his ankle for a heel hook, but a harsh kick to get chest allows him the chance to get away from her and out of the ring. “Let him goddamn breathe, you fuck!” Steph screams at Sardonyx, but as Sardonyx leans over the ropes to grab at Cardona’s hair, the momentary distraction is enough for him to grab a chair that Steph had pulled out before slamming Sardonyx right in the head. Matt Cardona barks out that stupid sounding laugh of his, and it’s this that has the whole crowd booing the so called indy-taker.

Cardona’s wasting time with grandstanding, already basking in the crowd booing him and just egging them on more- but this give Sardonyx the chance to grab a toy of her own.. Oh my god! it’s a kendo stick wrapped in barbed wire!! Steph tries to grab at Sardonyx’s boot but a swift kick sends her reeling and Sardonyx slides back into the ring. There’s a moment of pause, the crowds boos morphing into cheers before Cardona turns around and realises a moment too late what’s about to happen. three swift whacks to the head and he’s already bleeding, but as she chucks away the Kendo stick, Sardonyx is back on the offensive with a harsh roundhouse kick that sends him stumbling backwards before a harsh exploder suplex!Steph’s got another chair out for Matt, but Sardonyx instead grabs it and sends multiple chair shots to Cardona’s back- at least until Steph jumps on the apron and grabs it out of her hands and slams Sardonyx in the head again! Steph can barely gloat before Scarlett’s pulled her feet out from under her and sent Steph’s face crashing into the apron!Sardonyx slides back into the ring only for Matt Cardona to crack her over the back with a bundle of lightubes that he pulled out during the distraction- the glass goes absolutely everywhere, and Cardona grabs a fistful of her hair before *yanking* her back onto the mat and straight into a pile of shattered glass. her skin is littered with glass and small cuts, quickly getting covered in her own blood- fans are more than happy to see all of this crimson, and they’re making their happiness known.

Cardona shoves her head with his boot a few times, forcing her to slowly push herself up, before he steps backwards and slides more lightubes beneath her head- oh my *god-* he’s wanting to curb stomp her into all that glass!! she can see what he’s trying to do and rolls out of the ring to catch her breath, before the Deathmatch King follows her to the floor. Sardonyx takes the momentary pause to hit him with a savage looking big boot that sends him crashing into the barricade. there’s barely a pause before Sardonyx is pulling more chairs out from under the ring before she stuns him again with triple headbutts. Cardona has clearly had his bell rung, but as Sardonyx grabs a fistful of hair, it’s clear his nights about to get a lot worse! with a fistful of his tights, Sardonyx flips Cardona over with an exploder suplex- crashing into the pile of chairs. sliding back into the ring, Sardonyx is on her hands and knees for a moment before beginning to stand up again. the whole crowd is chanting for Sardonyx, while Steph’s doing everything she can to get Cardona back in the ring– she’s literally dragging him up and back into the ring!!

Cardona’s back in the ring and it looks like Steph’s just put him straight in the firing line for the Mass Destruction- But then Steph’s in the middle of the ring between them and has the Kendo stick that Sardonyx just threw away! Steph’s firing shots at the already bloodied body of Sardonyx, each shot sending her to the mat as she instinctively tries to move away from the source of the pain. the lightubes that Cardona wanted to use are still there, and Steph grabs a fistful of hair to put her in position. everyone’s instinctively worried, but as Steph’s boot slams down into the lightubes Sardonyx is gone-Scarlett wasn’t about to let Steph cheat to win this match, and pulled Sardonyx out of the way, before sliding into the ring and facing the taller woman. the shock of Scarletts appearance gives her a chance to really hurt Steph, and after a handful of elbows, Scarlett slams Steph into the broken lightubes with a severe facebuster! they both roll out of the ring, with Steph screaming in pain and Scarlett more than happy to have evened the score.

as Cardona and Sardonyx have both had the chance to get a second wind, they take one look at each other before running at each other, fists flying! the crowd is going insane as they strike at each other! another harsh bicycle kick sends him crumbling backwards, but Sardonyx has a strong grip on his hand and keeps him close to her! Sardonyx’s hand is behind his arm and- oh my god she’s going for the Hemonga Lock! she’s going for the submission win! Cardona is screaming, trying to kick away from her and get out of this, but Bob Backlund wasn’t lying when he said no one could get out of this!! Sardonyx wrenches back in her hold and with a painted scream, Matt Cardona’s forced to tap!! Sardonyx beat Cardona!! with Scarlett’s help, Steph was no longer the way Cardona could cheat to win, and in a battle of wrestling prowess, you really do have to give it up for Sardonyx.

[powered-universe-official]

TPUD1 Chapter 4: Detach, Detain, and Leave

The aftermath of a massacre

Zephyr didn’t know that the Agency had bugged her room until she was sent to lead a raid into Electrode’s warehouse. She, some low tiers, and a small police force, were dropped in and, no matter how hard she tried to stop it, she couldn’t. She realized too late. 

This is the last thing she wanted. The people who work for Electrode aren’t evil, just desperate. She, too, would have taken Electrode up on the offer of a job if it weren’t for the goddamn life-long contract.

Most of them aren’t even Powered. Virtue isn’t even Powered.

The low tiers and police blow the first few doors down with explosives. There’s sirens and workers running to what are obviously safety shelters. Many of them are gunned down before Zephyr can say ‘no’. 

The man with the lanyard and pins stares at her, blood seeping through his shirt, and she sheds a tear for him. When none of her entourage are looking, she goes to him. He gives her his space pin and whispers his last words to her. She closes his eyes and rushes off to try and stop more bloodshed. 

She gets to the Work Room before the heroes and police, seeing Virtue and Electrode. Electrode looks furiously at her, and she chokes back a sob. Zephyr falls to her knees and presents the pin, trembling.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers. “I didn’t know until it was happening.”

Virtue and Electrode share a look, neither looking happy about it. Electrode steps in front of Zephyr. With sharp eyes, they analyze her, and nod.

Her nerves are on fire as her body moves without her command. She walks behind Electrode but in front of Virtue, who has adorned a simple white masquerade mask. She tries to move, but her body won’t listen. Why can’t she move?

The rest of the entourage arrive, covered in blood, and Zephyr wants to throw up. They ready themselves, the head captain saying something about this being the easy part. Zephyr wants to laugh. She’s the strongest of them and not once in three years has she ever been able to get close to the green-haired villain. Today was the closest she’s ever gotten. 

They ready their guns and Electrode laughs. Their distorted voice sends shivers down Zephyr’s spine and obviously unnerves the offensive group. Virtue tugs on Zephyr’s elbow, dragging her away. 

“You don’t know what you just set in motion.” The distorted voice cackles. She looks back and sees Electrode explode in a mass of lightning bolts.

The hero-police force are thrown backwards, some sustaining burns and some not rising. 

“Find the detonator!” One of the heroes yells, and Zephyr knows deep in her bones that this wasn’t a trick or invention. This was Electrode’s hand being shown, and everyone was looking at what they had played instead. 

The anti-gravity boots activate, making Electrode hover above them, and Virtue shoves her into a room and closes the door just as the screams start.

Zephyr stares at Virtue, who seems unnerved, with horror. Flashes of her interaction with The Drain coming back, not much, but enough. Her nerves suddenly settle from the burning sensation they had been feeling before. She steadies herself, gasping on sobs. Virtue is looking with emotionless eyes peering through the mask.

“He-” She heaves out. “I didn’t even know his name.” She finally lets the tears out, sobbing as she holds the bloody pin to her chest. “I couldn’t save anyone.”

Virtue grabs Zephyr as she collapses, gently letting her down onto the floor so she can lean against the wall. 

“They knew the risks.” Virtue whispers. “We’ll send money and condolences to any family or friends they had.”

Zephyr barely keeps back a wail. So many families torn apart that she could have prevented it. If only she had- if only she had-

Electrode walks in, mask thrown into a corner, and not a speck of blood on their suit. They and Virtue exchange whispers, and then they set their gaze on Zephyr. She wants to curl up and die, she failed. 

Electrode’s ungloved hand gently touches her own. “Their deaths aren’t because of you.” They say with certainty. “If they were, then you wouldn’t have this.” They touch the space pin. “You wouldn’t have cared.”

Zephyr wants to fight them, tell them how wrong they are, but she’s so tired. She wants to sleep forever.

Electrode squeezes Zephyr’s hand gently. “We’re going to get justice.” They whisper, voice deathly sharp. “You can join us in it.”

Virtue looks at Electrode with surprise. “But what about-”

“Fuck it all. I just lost 500 good, hard working people and I’m not gonna let the government glorify the 20 that caused this massacre.” Electrode cuts them off. “I’m not gonna hide anymore, either. Call the circle heads, we meet in two days.”

Virtue nods and leaves the room. Zephyr tries to curl into herself, but Electrode doesn’t relinquish their hold on her hand. 

“Zephyr.” They say, much softer than they have been all day, more like the way they are when they fight. “You’re gonna see a side of me that’s unlike what you’ve seen. I hide the way I am around the circles from you, and I hide the way I am around you from the circles. If you want to join my cause, I’m gonna wait until after the meetings. If you wanna leave, leave. I already have a way to get you out of that shitty contract and I’m using it.” They say, and Zephyr’s breath solidifies in her throat. What do they mean?

Electrode looks at them. They have freckles, light and dusting the area right under their eyes. “Leto, please believe me when I say that I won’t let you get hurt or die. Not now.”

She wants to scream at the use of her civilian name. She hasn’t been Leto for so long now.

Electrode seems to recognize this, as they say one last thing. 

“Don’t lose who you were.” They plead. “I did. I did the moment I made my moniker. Don’t make the mistakes I have.”

They stand up and go to leave, but Zephyr Leto calls out Electrode’s name.

“Who are you when you’re not Electrode?” She asks, and Electrode looks sad.

“A child who died a long time ago.”

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[turtle-steverogers]

Pre serum Steve once fell of a balcony and Bucky caught him. Bucky reminds him every chance he gets.

anon, you have inspired me... i saw this. thought "YES", then scurried to my google drive

and so here is a fic, wholly based on this ask

-

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?”

Steve twists around from where he’s perched on the fire escape rail, back against the cool brick wall of their shitty tenement. It’s nearly April and the weather’s getting warmer, a soft breeze keeping it just cool enough for long pants. Steve has always preferred warmer weather, though, and he thought he’d take advantage of the first truly nice day that Spring. His sketchbook lies open on his lap, propped against his knee. A light, but detailed sketch of the other tenement buildings that spanned out in front of him fills the page.

“Drawing,” Steve says, glancing at Bucky where his head is poking out the window. He looks concerned and his eyes keep flicking to where Steve’s holding himself stable with his free leg. “Why are you already home? What time is it?”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow and Steve wants to stick his thumb on the little divot to smooth it out. He always thought Bucky would get a permanent wrinkle there if he kept frowning so much.

“Nearly 6:00,” Bucky says, and Steve realizes he must have let time get away from him. That tends to happen, when he draws, his mind blessedly quiet for a few hours as he loses himself in the methodical scratch of his charcoal pencils. Still, he had gotten home from his work restocking shelves at the local grocer around 3:00. He didn’t think it had been that long.

“Oh,” he says.

Bucky climbs out onto the escape. He’s wearing his work clothes still-- an oily white shirt tucked into heavy denim pants. His hair's hanging down in his eyes. Steve knows he’ll want him to cut it soon.

He wants to reach out to him, but he can’t. Not out here where anyone could see. It’s torture, not being able to touch anywhere but in the confines of their bed, hidden under the covers where prying eyes can’t strip away their privacy-- their God given right to love each other as wholly as human nature could allow. Steve purses his lips and forces himself to look back down at his sketch.

“I don’t like you sitting up there,” Bucky says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Just because you’re afraid of heights doesn’t mean that everyone else is, Buck. Besides, we’re only three stories up.”

Bucky huffs, stepping closer. “That’s still far,” he says. “You fall, you’ll splatter all over the sidewalk and scar Miss Maggie downstairs for life. I’d have to pay for her heart failure and your funeral.”

Steve snorts and closes his sketchbook, thoroughly distracted now. The sun’s starting to set anyway, and it’s bound to get cold soon.

“You’re so dramatic,” Steve says. “I’m holding myself up just fine. See? I can even reach for my other charcoals and there ain’t no problem.”

To prove himself, Steve closes his sketchbook and tosses it onto the fire escape, sticking the charcoal he was using in the binding. He twists around after that and leans over to grab another pencil from where he’d left his spares on a ledge to his right, his thigh muscles flexing as he holds himself in place. The pencils are farther away than he last remembers them, though, because he feels himself reaching further and further until his balance is tipping and he’s tumbling over the side.

“Stevie!” Bucky’s frantic voice shouts, but Steve can barely hear him, too busy gasping in surprise.

There’s a suspended moment of terror as the world seems to go quiet, his ears ringing in alarm as he feels himself starting to fall and oh god, Bucky was right, he really shouldn’t have tried to reach out for his pencils and now he really was going to fall to his death and Miss Maggie was going to see him break his neck on the sidewalk or he’ll kill an alleycat on impact or--

--A strong hand closes around his bicep, catching him before he can fully go over the side of the fire escape. He’s shaking with adrenaline as Bucky lifts him back to safety. He’s speaking, Steve realizes belatedly.

“--Such a fucking idiot, I swear to god, you’re gonna be the death of me, Rogers.”

“You say that, like, once a week,” Steve says weakly, and he notices then that he’s shaking. His teeth are chattering, adrenaline coursing through him. He must look as freaked out as he feels, because Bucky takes one look at his face and softens.

He glances around, then braces a hand on the back of Steve’s neck, grounding him. A moment later, Steve is being pulled into his chest. He’s sweaty and smells like the docks, but Steve presses closer, inhaling deeply in time with Bucky.

“You okay, kid?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods against his chest, hiding. “Sorry. Spooked.”

“I don’t blame you,” Bucky says, pulling away after sneaking a soft kiss on Steve’s head. He swoops down to collect Steve’s sketchbook. “C’mon, let’s go inside.” He straightens and points an accusing finger at Steve. “I told you so, by the way.”

Steve just rolls his eyes.

-

“No! Not without you!”

“Aw, hell…”

Steve’s going to die.

He’s thought that a lot, in his 25 years of life. But now, as he sizes up the impossible jump between him and Bucky, he really truly believes it.

Bucky made it across, if only barely, and Steve wishes he would just go. There’s a deep pain in his eyes now-- one Steve noticed as soon as he lifted Bucky off that goddamn experiment table. If anyone deserves to get out of this fiery hell, it’s him. But Steve knows that he really won’t leave without him. He’d damn himself to die by the burning hands of war right alongside Steve.

Steve knows this, because he would do the same.

He takes the jump running, giving himself one moment to falter before he’s soaring through the air. It burns, and he knows he’s breathing in so much smoke. Fire licks at his heels and singes his clothes, melting the soles of his boots and mottling his skin.

It feels like he’s caught in midair, flying forever without falling as the other side gets closer and closer and holy shit, he’s going to make it-- he’s really going to--

He manages to grab hold of the railing on the other side, screaming as it breaks and bends, leaving him dangling. The metal is smoltering and he gasps, letting go on instinct as it burns the skin of his palms and shit, he’s such an idiot, but before he can fall, Bucky’s leaning over and grabbing him by the forearm.

He hauls him up onto the platform and they collapse onto the ground, panting as they claw at each other, needing something tangible-- real-- to keep them sane and then they’re kissing, teeth clacking together and noses bumping. Bucky’s sobbing, Steve notices and he pulls back to reassure him, only to realize he’s doing the same. They kiss until the air in their lungs turns to ash and they pull away to breathe, foreheads resting together.

“You’re such a fucking dumbass,” Bucky pants.

“Fuck you,” Steve answers. He kisses him again, hungry for more-- yearning to crawl under Bucky’s skin and hide there. “Thanks for catching me.” And it’s horribly insufficient. There’s so much to say to each other, so many bases to cover and things that can’t go unsaid, but Bucky must understand, because he guides Steve’s head down to his chest. A position Steve never thought he’d have the privilege of falling into again.

“Always gonna catch you,” he says. It’s quiet for a long time, nothing but their heavy breathing and the roaring fire to fill the spaces between them. Steve opens his mouth to say something; anything. He needs to ask if Bucky’s okay-- what they were doing to him-- and he knows Bucky has questions. Ones that he deserves answers to more than anyone, but the words get caught in his throat. It doesn’t matter, though, because Bucky laughs wetly. “Like-- like that fuckin’ time you almost fell off the fire escape and--”

Steve groans, shoving at Bucky before gathering him close and breathing him in, because if Bucky can find it in him to tease, then things have to be okay.

“You ain’t ever letting that go, are you?”

“Never.”

-

thanks for reading, chiefs

[avintagekiss24]

leave out all the rest | c. beck

→ pairing: chris beck x black!reader

→ word count: 5387

→ warnings: 18+ ONLY, smidge of angst, smut, sex, breeding kink, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, explicit language

→ square filled: @badthingshappenbingo

flashbacks

→ request: chris beck + breeding kink + "babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that" + "I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that"

→ author note: dr. space daddy is finally here! this is also the first of my 5k celebration fics! all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. thanks so much for the request @thedarkplume​! title from linkin park leave out all the rest (i loveeee this song); line divider by @firefly-graphics​; flashbacks are in italics. i also formatted this with the beta text post editor on desktop... so hopefully nothing looks weird and the italics/bold actually work... it is tumblr after all.

oh, hey, there’s a bit of a marvel crossover in this too!

Nervous doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel in this moment. Your stomach hasn’t been settled since you got the call two days ago. It’s been flipping and twisting ever since. Sleep hasn’t come easy either, but you’re used to that. Ever since Chris left, you haven’t slept well. It’s been almost seven hundred and thirty days— well, just three days short.

You follow the two tall military men, decked out in their dress blues, through the secure facility, your black leather combat boots thudding against the tile floors. Everything is white— the walls, the floors, the coats of all the scientists and doctors milling about— except for you and your flowery, thigh length sundress. Dark eyes wide, teeth nibbling on a sore, often bloody bottom lip from all the nibbling, small purse bouncing off one hip as a duffel bag bounces off the other.

Winding through corridor after corridor, pausing as the men lift their badges to keypads to get door after door to click open. An eerie quiet looms throughout the entire building, nothing but random beeps, your breathing, and footsteps.

Nervous doesn’t begin to describe it.

The walk gives you too much time to think about the last seven hundred and twenty seven days. All of the crying. All of the anger— the screaming. Chris trying to calm you down, assure you that they were okay— that he had to do this.

"It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?" You sobbed into the phone, staring up into the stars, knowing that he couldn’t but secretly hoping that he could see you.

"This is not easy for me," he choked back tears, his tongue heavy, "Leaving you is never easy but I have to do this, baby. We have to go back for Mark. We have to."

You didn’t answer his calls for over a week. And when you did, your words were quick and harsh.

"I can’t do this anymore. I’m moving in with my sister."

Chris was silent on the other end of the phone— too silent. He sighed after a while and just said, "Ok. I understand."

That was day four hundred and sixty three.

So you moved in with your sister. Got a job at the local bar, picked up every shift you could, sometimes working sixty, seventy hours a week— just so you didn’t have to think about him. It didn’t work. You’d still stare out the window at night, up into the big black sky and through the twinkling little stars, wondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was thinking about you.

Unbeknownst to you, Chris continued to call your sister. Just to check on you.

Day seven hundred was when two Air Force officers walked into the bar as you were cutting up lemons and oranges. Your stomach, in a perpetual state of tight and sour, dropped to your feet. It’s never good when the military comes knocking on your door.

“He’s dead,” you spit out, eyes watering, chest starting to heave, “He’s dead, isn’t he? They’re all dead.”

When they removed their hats, your hands flew to your face, covering your mouth to muffle the sobs. You just knew they were all dead. Humans can’t stay in space for this long. It’s not natural.

“No ma’am,” the taller, brown skinned man answered, a small smile breaking onto his face, showing off the distinctive gap between his two front teeth, “They’re back in our orbit. They’ll be landing within the next seventy two hours.”

It was a flurry after that. Phone calls, you moving back onto the base, protocol gatherings, interviews with local and national media. None of it mattered. You just wanted to see him— you needed to see him.

Not before his mandatory three week quarantine that is.

Day seven hundred and twenty five is when they called to let you know that he was ready to move onto the second phase of his integration back on earth. Two weeks cohabitating with another person of his choice, just to make sure that his body and cells can still tolerate, you know, earth— and that he doesn’t give off anything that could make earthlings sick.

They called to let you know that Chris chose you— if you wanted to, of course. If not, he could call his sister.

You were packing your bag before the call even ended.

After two days of getting tested for everything known to man, it’s now day seven hundred and twenty seven and here you are, passing through the last set of doors and stepping into a large observatory room. One of the General’s starts talking, but you don’t hear a word. You just blink slow, lips falling open as you stare back at Chris as he stands at the little square window of his living quarters. He smiles soft, running his hand through his short, dark hair before waving and placing his palm on the window.

Tears cloud your vision. Your chin trembles as a sad smile spreads on your face. A sob chokes in your throat and a warm tear streaks down your cheeks. Despite the talking man, you step up to the window and press your much smaller hand on the glass, spreading your fingers to match his. Chris rests his forehead to it and you do the same as you really start to bawl— shoulders shaking, face breaking, breath rushing fast and hard.

"Baby, don’t cry. Come on pretty, don’t— don’t cry."

Chris’ voice is muffled by the thick glass, but just hearing it— so close, so familiar— after so longs it’s just… it’s almost too much. It is too much.

“Ma’am, we can’t let you in there like this. We need you to calm down.”

Dense thuds shake the glass as Chris pounds on it, "Open the door, Sam!"

Sam grabs your bicep, gently, guiding you towards the door— Chris following you both, still talking to you through the glass.

"It’s okay baby, I’m right here. I’m right here."

“We need you to calm down,” Sam starts again, “He hasn’t been around—”

"Sam! Goddamn it, leave her alone! Open the door!"

“Beck! You cool it in there!”

"Don’t be an asshole! Open the door! She’s scared!"

You hear a scoff, “Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.”

"I swear to God—"

“Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.” Sam is stern now, pointing his finger towards Chris. 

Sam pauses for a few long seconds, blinking slow but keeping his hand around your bicep— and thank God, because you honestly need it, “I’m going to badge you into the hallway, okay? You take this keycard,” he presses it into your palm, “And put it up to the keypad at the second door after I close this door behind you. It’s only good for one passthrough— once you’re in, you’re in until the medical staff clears you both. Understand?”

The second half of his speech is softer, his thumb rubbing the back of your arm. You like Chief Master Sergeant Sam Wilson. You nod quick, rubbing at your face with the back of your hand, sniffling hard and focusing a shaky breath out through your teeth as you step in front of the door. There’s a loud click and the metal pops, Sam reaching past you to push it open.

Your body, on autopilot, takes three steps to the second door, eyes staring at the keypad on the wall beside it. Chris is still talking to you through the windows, one hand pressed to the glass, the other on the door handle.

"Just a few more seconds baby. You’re doing so good."

There’s another click— Sam closing the door behind you. Water fills your eyes again, emotion choking up in your throat at the gravity of it all. All of the screaming. All of the crying. All of the hating him and loving him and missing him for seven hundred and twenty seven days all culminating right here, right now, while he’s just three feet away from you. The sky used to be the thing keeping you apart— now it’s just a wall. A door— that you can’t walk through.

"Baby, Chris says gently, "Come on baby. Open the door, honey."

You’re frozen. Eyes locked on the keypad, fingers gripping the keycard so hard they start to burn. Open the door, honey takes you back. Takes you back to the day that he told you he was going up— that he’d be gone for a year.

“Open the door, honey. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You sniffle, staring at your reflection in the mirror in your small bathroom.

“You knew this was coming. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“A year? A year, Chris? I’m just supposed to put my life on hold for you for an entire year?”

He sighs through the door, “I’ve worked my ass off for this, you know that.” You do know that, you’re just being selfish. Needy and selfish, “I know we’ve got plans baby, but it’s just a year. One year and then I’m all yours—”

“Yeah, until the next time you decide to go up there. This is what Melissa warned me about. You get addicted to it.”

“I won’t.”

“You will,” you retort, “I know you.”

That makes him laugh, and then you’re laughing because he’s laughing, “Open the door, please.” Chris sighs again.

As soon as you turn the knob, he’s pushing through it, lifting you up off your feet and twirling you around— to make you laugh again.

You were standing on a precipice that night and neither one of you knew it. Your lives, both individual and combined, would change forever and that was the night that set it all in motion.

The keycard digs into your fingers and palm, bringing you back into the present. Back into the hallway, back in front of Chris. You blink, linking eyes with him again, finding them soft and down turned, his head tilted as he presses his fingers to the glass.

"Let me hold you," he says soft. So soft that the glass between you gobbles it up. But you just know that’s what he said. You just know.

The door clicks in your ear, a breeze is in your face as Chris throws it open, and then you’re consumed. Arms wrapped around you, hard chest against yours as you’re lifted right off of your feet. He’s so warm— he’s always been so damn warm.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, leaning back a little as you push your face into his neck, “This moment was the only thing keeping me going.”

“I’m sorry,” you sob, pushing your face into his shoulder, your tears wetting his NASA sweatshirt, “I’m so sorry, I was so selfish,” the words are clipped and broken, heavy on your tongue, “Chris, I—”

“Don’t. Don’t do that, it doesn’t matter.” He sits you back on your feet, rubbing your back with both of his large hands, “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

You cry openly into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and pushing your hands up into his sweatshirt, under the thin t-shirt underneath— just to feel his skin, “I missed you so much.”

One, two, three, four pecks of his warm lips on the top of your head before he rests his cheek there, holding you tight as he takes a deep breath, “All that’s over now, hmm?” you can feel the smile on his face, “We don’t have to miss each other anymore.”

-

A yawn pushes out of your mouth as you stretch out tight, sore muscles screaming. Eyes flutter as you shift, another deep breath pushing out your nose as you nuzzle your face into the pillows, body cocooned in warmth. You’re drifting again, quick, when an abrupt panic races through your veins without warning. Your stomach drops, skin instantly flushing with heat as you spring up, eyes as wide as saucers as your breath rushes.

That’s when you hear it, an all too familiar sound. A pencil, tapping slowly, methodically, against something. It calms you instantly. It’s real, you’re real, Chris is real, and you’re here. He’s here.

You swing your legs over the edge of the small bed, tucked in the corner behind a small partition. There’s a soft light glowing underneath it and a single red blinking dot emanating from the corner of the room— a camera. You push your hair out of your face but keep your fingers on your cheeks, closing your eyes as you focus on your breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out. There’s a murmur, Chris mumbling to himself and you can’t help but smile.

You stand and start moving towards the noises, padding soft and slow as his mess of brown hair and hunched back comes into view. He stands, switching out an X-Ray on the viewer before he plops back down into the swivel chair, staring at it for a second before he starts flipping through the large, open text book just to his left. There’s a little white board off to the right, leaning against the wall, the days he’s been “gone”, seven hundred and twenty seven, scribbled in his messiest of messy handwriting.

The little slice of time watching him sends you right back to your college years, waking up in his dorm room, finding the bed empty and him huddled over a too small desk, furiously flipping through a thousand page text book. You’d sneak up on him, just as you are now, barely dressed and sleepy eyed. Dig your fingers into his hair, scratch his scalp slow. Giggle as his shoulders slump and his head falls back a little, him moaning all the while.

“God, that feels good.”

“You let me fall asleep.”

“You cried yourself to sleep. Didn’t have the heart to wake you… you look like you haven’t slept in a year.”

“Hmm, more like two. What are you doing?” you ask, pushing around his side and crawling into his lap, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Looking at our X-Rays from earlier today. I’m working on another paper for the Institute.”

“Trying to see if you guys are still earthlings?”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through you, making you smile, “Kinda, yeah. Our body masses have changed dramatically— our bones are longer, I’m not shitting you.” You giggle again at the enthusiasm in his voice, “It’s just a few centimeters, but still. Our brain waves are a little different, metabolism has sped up… it’s incredible.”

You keep the small smile on your face as your fingertips drift over his chest, rubbing slow as you feel his eyes fall to you, “You should get back in bed,” he says, squeezing your knee gently, “You look so tired, baby.”

“Not without you.”

He laughs again, “My circadian rhythm’s all fucked up, I can’t sleep.”

“Then it looks like you're stuck with me,” you kiss his chin and then cuddle back into him, “Don’t mind me.”

Mind you, he doesn't. He just goes about flipping pages and scribbling down random thoughts, marking up his pile of x-rays and fumbling through his and the rest of the crew's medical charts. You push your hand up into the arm of his navy blue NASA sweatshirt, raking your nails up and down his forearm absentmindedly as you breathe him in. Your other hand wanders too, tracing the band of his dark sweatpants before skipping up into his sweatshirt, brushing over his stomach and up to his chest.

The pads of your fingers outline the muscles that are still there, his pecs, down and across his soft abs, before back up and over a cheeky nipple. He jumps slightly, crinkling his nose as he smiles big and hard, “Babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

“Oh, is that so?”

You bat two big eyes up at him, the weight of going almost two years without catching up with you right at this moment. A hum vibrates in your throat as you stand, taking a few steps away from him before you toss your eyes over your shoulder, licking your bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it. You hold out your hand, wiggling your fingers after a few moments, watching him drag his big eyes down your bare legs and then back up over your powder pink satin shorts and matching camisole.

“Come to bed, Dr. Beck.”

He’s up and on his feet before the words are out of your mouth. Warm fingers interlace with yours as the two of you move back towards the bed, falling onto the soft twin size mattress. His weight dips into the bed as he sinks his knees into it, pulling his sweatshirt over his head as you crawl towards the headboard. You draw your legs up, swaying them gently back and forth, palms flat on your thighs as you inhale deep, watching as he tosses his shirt to the floor.

The smile on your face grows larger as he crawls over you, pushing your legs open with his soft hands before he settles right between them. Chris takes his time looking at you, smiling soft as his eyes drift over your face, his index finger dragging down the bridge of your nose, over two full lips, and down your chin and neck. You let out a quick breath when the pad of that sneaky finger dips just inside your tank top— right into your cleavage.

He cups your face, his thumb resting on your lips, brushing gently, “I’m never leaving you again,” he whispers, blue eyes filling with earnest as they bounce between yours, “I mean it.”

You turn your head into his palm, pressing your lips into the soft, warm skin, planting kisses, “You promise?”

The delivery is breathless. Quiet. Small. Almost begging him to mean it. He takes a deep breath, pushes it out slow before leaning in, closing his eyes as he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. That’s when he kisses you— slow. Deep. Tongue pushing through your lips and into your mouth.  Massaging the roof of your mouth before sliding along your tongue. He even moans a little, lets his body— muscles, bones, brain— relax. Lets himself melt into you because it’s just been so damn long.

It ends slow, the kiss. Chris grabbing your lip with his teeth and pulling gently before he rests his forehead to yours. Eyes closed, his big, skilled hands and fingers flirting with your calves—pushing over your knees and then down your thighs to come to rest on your sides and hips.

“I promise.” You slide your hands up and down his sides, letting your eyelids flutter as he continues, punctuating his words with more gentle kisses, “We can start that life you’re so crazy about,” he laughs when you laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, “Buy you a house.”

“On the base?”

“I thought you didn’t like the base?”

“I don’t… but I kinda... do.”

“Then yeah, on the base if that’s what you want.”

Your eyes are still closed as hot lips press against your face— the crook of your nose, underneath one eye, cheeks, and then chin. You push your fingers up into his hair as he forges a path with his lips and tongue— down your neck, over two collarbones, down your arm— all the while his hands move upward. Up into your silk top, nimble fingers playing with two tight nipples before he rucks the silk top up to your chin.

“Wait,”

“What?”

“What about them?”

“Them, who?”

Pointing with your foot towards the blinking red light in the corner, “Them.”

He laughs and you laugh, covering your face with your hands until Chris pries them away, “They’re nerds, babe. We’ve already made them so nervous they’ve left the control room.”

You honestly can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard. Not since he left you suppose. It’s a nice sound, for both you and him, filling up the small space, making it alive and lived in instead of clinical and dry, “That’s not nice, Chris!”

He shimmies the thin material up over your head, casting it to the floor, “It’s the truth! I should know. Remember the first time I saw you naked? I couldn’t look anybody in the eye for a week.”

The memory makes you laugh, soft and dreamy-like, “That was so long ago.”

Chris catches the tone. It makes him halt, for just a second, his eyes shifting away from you. Guilt. For holding you at an arm’s length for so long. For making you number two. For making you wait for him for so damn long.

You tilt your head, eyes searching his. Gentle hands claim his face, pulling him back into your strong gaze, “Stay with me,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, “You’re buying me a house.”

“Ah, yes,” with one fell swoop, your shorts are pulled down your legs, right over the tips of your manicured toes and thrown to the floor, “One story? Two?” He asks, back up on his knees.

“Umm, maybe just one,” You answer, sitting up, slipping your hands into the dark sweats still covering his bottom half, “A two story house is too much to keep clean.”

You pull, but not all the way. Just enough to see his hips and that little tuft of dark hair underneath his belly button. You can’t help yourself and lean forward, kissing his stomach, giggling when he jumps a little. When you do it again, kiss him, and then a third time, and a forth, he gives in. Sweeps your locs over your shoulders and pulls them into a ponytail in his hand. That’s when you hook your thumbs back underneath the thick band of his sweats and pull a little harder, pushing the material right over his hard cock, making it bounce.

Chris kicks out of the sweats, grabs your face in his hands and tilts it upward. Leans down and kisses you again— soft. Sweet. All while rubbing small circles into your cheeks with his thumbs. He stays there, forehead to forehead, eyelashes spread over his buttery, quickly blushing red cheeks as you palm him, dragging your hand from the base right to the tip.

It doesn’t take much— never has. After a few strokes, he’s wet and red all over. Chest, neck, cheeks. Mouth agape, pulling in ragged breaths as his eyelids flutter. He swallows hard, and then hums quick, deep and throaty before inhaling through his open mouth. You push upward, kissing him as you continue slow strokes, sweeping a thumb over his wet tip.

Fingertips brush along the inside of your thigh, down low, first by your knee. Then, slowly, they skirt upward, not groping or kneading, just brushing— flirting with your skin until they reach their destination. You gasp, mouth falling open as adept fingers— not only just in general, but with your body specifically— push through wet folds.

“One story it is then,” he breathes, hot, unhurried, “A dog and a,” he slams his eyes shut, hissing and grunting when you squeeze him, “Fuck baby,” he swallows again, lips trembling as he nuzzles in, rubbing the tips of your noses together, “A dog and a cat.”

Your free hand wraps around his neck, fingertips pushing into his hair as your head tips back, hips start to shove forward, eager for his touch— wanting those fingers inside. When Chris obliges, sinks his index and middle finger into your cunt—  touch starved and needy— you mewl. Making a real sound for the first time in seven hundred and twenty seven days. It enlivens you both.

Chris pushes you back, lays you back onto the small mattress, spreads you out. Keeps his fingers inside, pumping slow, curling, massaging. Thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing. He lays between your legs, coming face to face with your most intimate and blows gently. Warm air sticking to balmy flesh. Big blue eyes flick up to yours, then back to your sweet, licking his lips as a squelch fills the room.

His tongue darts out, slips along the inside of your thigh. Your hips react instantly, jutting upward as a sharp breath fills your chest. A long arm pushes up your body, fingers prodding your breast, tweaking a nipple before he palms the skin, but not for long. Within seconds, his fingertips are pushing into a willing mouth. Your tongue, swirling around thick digits as you grab onto his hand, holding it there.

Warm air tickles damp skin again as he blows on you, “Have some babies,” he offers quick, the words muffled by your flesh as he finally laps at you, tongue slipping through sticky folds, flattening against your slit as he massages the delicate, “How many you want, baby?”

Nothing but a bitten-off groan answers him. It comes for many reasons. His fingers somehow delving deeper, lips brushing over your cunt— the thought of babies. Little brown skinned, curly headed babies running in the backyard with that dog and cat. Wide smiles, complete with missing teeth, loud laughter, declarations of love as they jump into mommy and daddy’s arms.

“Oh yeah,” heavy words breathed into your ear, a hunk of man now laying on top of you, cock pressing at your opening, “My pretty girl wants babies,” the wetness makes it easy for him to slide in— all the way in— bury deep, “I’m gonna give them to you. You’ve been so good.”

He’s moving, hips pushing and pulling as he cups your face in his hands, presses his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna fill you up,” he mutters, swollen lips brushing against yours, “Stuff you— full of— my, fuck,” a deep moan, another quick hiss as he bites his bottom lip, overcome by the warmth, the wet— the tight, “Fuck, you feel good.”

Feverish lips are on yours again, teeth nibbling as his hips shove into you. Soft and swift. A palm covering your breast, fingers pressing, kneading and working sensitive, responsive skin. Nipples hardening, heat blooming across an ardent canvas of skin, pulsing hips eager to meet his.

Chris cups your chin, pushes upward so you're forced to keep slitted eyes on him and him only, “You want my babies? Hmm? Tell me baby,” you can only whimper in response, digging your nails into his sides, drawing your legs up and around him as he plunges deep, “Come on honey, use those words. Tell me how much you want my babies.”

He fucks into you hard, jamming his hips just once— the sound of skin on skin slapping out loud and off the walls. It arches your back, the sudden, quick thrust. Sends you right up into his chest. Chris pulls you into his lap as he falls back on his ass, extending his legs, heels digging into the mattress as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close and tight, fingers spreading out on your back.

Hips roll into one another. Fingers grip his calf as you lean back, hot, sloppy lips on your chest, over and between bouncing tits. A taut nipple pulled right into his wet mouth. Slippery tongue swirling and flicking, teeth nibbling before he sucks on the tight nub, teasing it further.

Then he’s holding your hips, forcing you down onto his cock. More rushed, sticky words falling from swollen, red lips, “You want me to fill you up? Hmm? Tell me.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, overcome by it all. The emotion of it, the physicality of you and him tangled together— the words, how many years you’ve waited to hear those words.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he purrs, thrusting harder, faster, “You want me to come in you, don’t you? You’d love it if I came in you, huh? Knocked you up? Gave you a baby?”

You kiss him hard. Cupping his face, moaning sweet into his wet mouth, “I want it,” it’s breathy— desperate, “I want it, Chris. I want it.”

“Then I’ll give it to you. I’ll give it all to you.”

It’s feverish after that. Pushing and pulling. Grunting, smacking— lips on lips, skin on skin. Large hands gripping, fingers pressing into the meat of thighs and calves and ass and tits. His fingers grip the meat of your thighs, your ass, slide up your back— around your neck as your head falls back. Those fingers find your mouth, push just inside as he wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling your hips closer, helping them rock.

His fingers are out of your mouth, cupping your cheek now. Smoothing hair out of your face as it strains. You try not to get loud, slam your eyes closed, purse your lips as your toes curl and stomach tightens… heart flutters.

“Oh no,” he murmurs, brushing his thumbs over your closed eyes before prodding at your lips, “Don’t do that, honey. I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that. Come on, let me hear you.”

“No, I—“

“Don’t be modest,” his tone shifts, going stern and deep, and that’s all it really takes for the noise to flow, “I wanna hear you.”

But he knew that.

It’s a sweet little hum, and then a gasp before it’s clipped by an obscenity— a shaky, desperate, filthy word that dissolves away into a loud groan and then… it’s all downhill from there.

You couldn’t hold it in if you tried. It’s been too long. A pent up aggression, a nervous need all finally working its way out of you. You pull him close— crush your chest against his, wrap two liquid arms around his neck, press your face right against his. Chris loops an arm around your waist, squeezing your opposite hip, pressing his fingers right into the soft skin until it hurts.

But it’s good, the pain of the squeeze. It helps you right over the edge, makes you finally cum after seven hundred and twenty seven days. Slow at first. A warmth just taking its time as it spreads. The feeling sort of foreign because it’s been so long— your brain hasn’t caught up just yet.

When it does catch up, brain and body finding each other, dormant synapses kicking on with a jolt, it’s not just a warmth. It’s molten now, searing and stirring, passing through veins and muscles and skin and bone— it’s that deep. Toes curling so hard they go numb, fingertips digging into his shoulders as you throw your head back.

You’re sure the scientists and military guards can hear you three floors down.

Chris leans in, hot, wet, shiny lips pressing against your chest, over your tits with sloppy kisses, hips still churning into yours until they just can’t. Wet walls closing in, clamping down as they spasm, that molten enveloping him. His hips freeze quick with the first spurt, but find a haphazard rhythm as he comes. Fills you up just like he promised.

He pushes those warm blooms of silk deep with now pointed, long strokes. Not a drop escaping— it’s all for you, after all. Supply and demand and all that.

The mattress is a dream beneath you. Inviting and soft as he lays you into it, still rooted deep as he rolls you onto your side. An arm snakes around your hip, a palm and long fingers anchoring in the center of your chest. A hot, flushed cheek presses against yours as lazy wet lips drag along the back of your neck. Languid thrusts at random intervals keeps you gasping as he tucks his knees and thighs into the backs of yours.

“Say it again,” you whisper after a few quiet minutes, breath still heavy, chest still heaving.

Chris plunges into you again, soft and sweet and deep, “Say what, honey?”

“That you won’t,” the words break off, a moan replacing them as he kisses a trail down your arm, fucks into you once, twice, three times, “That you won’t leave me again.”

“I’m not leaving you again.”

-

When you wake up the next morning, that little whiteboard with the days scribbled on it is erased. All it says now?

Day one.

[helloalycia]

teenage dirtbag [two] // wanda maximoff

summary: your crush begins to get more intense for Wanda, ensuing awkwardness between you both

warning/s: none

author's note: so glad you’re all liking this, here’s part two! 🥰

part one | part three | part four | part five | masterlist | wattpad

I knew it was a dream as soon as it began. Dreams never tricked me as I always detected something didn't feel right and figured out it wasn't real. But that was my only 'talent' with dreams, as everything else was left down to my subconscious. I couldn't control them, break away from the script or deviate from the scene in any way. I just knew when it wasn't real.

Admittedly, it took a little longer for me to recognise this one was a dream compared to others I'd had. It just seemed so normal as I headed into Chemistry class, seeing other students filing in and joining their partners. Mr. Hale was at the front of the class, occupied by his laptop and the projector, and it felt like any other day at school. The lights were off and the blinds were closed slightly, leaving the room in darkness except for the light from the board.

"Are we watching a film or something?" I asked Wanda as I set my bag on the desk beside her, earning her attention.

She looked up from her notepad and smiled widely, blue eyes sparkling in the darkness. "You're here, you took forever!"

"You saw me two lessons ago," I teased, taking a seat beside her.

She moved closer to me, hands immediately moving to my left one, playing with my fingers mindlessly. It felt right at the time, but I knew deep down that this wasn't real. In what world would this happen?

"Still," she mumbled adorably, before meeting my eyes. "We're watching some video about the periodic table."

I hummed, glancing at Mr. Hale as he struggled to pull up the video.

"Thank God because I couldn't be bothered doing work," Wanda added with a sigh, before moving closer to me, leaning on the palm of her hand as the other held mine still. "D'you think you can cover for me whilst I sneak in a nap?"

I stifled a laugh, moving closer and admiring the way her eyes changed colour in the light from the board. "I'm sure you're supposed to be paying attention."

She scrunched her nose, an uninterested smile on her lips, and it made my heart flutter.

"Fine, I'll cover for you," I gave in easily, before pressing a kiss to her nose.

She giggled quietly and when I pulled back, she leaned in and kissed my lips. Her free hand moved to the back of my neck as I rested mine on her lap, closing my eyes and falling into her without question. Okay, so yeah, definitely a dream, but I wasn't complaining.

"If Miss Maximoff and Miss Y/L/N can kindly stop making out, then we can begin the lesson," Mr. Hale announced, breaking Wanda and I's kiss.

Some of the class snickered as we separated from each other's hold, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He gave us a fed up look.

"Thank you," he said, before erupting into a speech about today's lesson.

When he started the video, I leaned forward on the desk to get comfortable and felt Wanda do the same, leaning her head on my arm and continuing to play with my hand. I smiled to myself, kissing the top of her head gently before getting comfortable. It all seemed too good to be true, but God was it a nice thought.

When I woke up the next morning with butterflies in my stomach, I groaned loudly. I knew I'd screwed myself over. I was in too deep. Dreaming about Wanda was not good, not good at all...

And it definitely didn't help when I showed up to class that same day, approaching my table and an already-seated Wanda. Just a dream, I told myself as I took a seat. Not real. And not a big deal.

"Good morning," she greeted when I sat down and pulled my books out. Her usual picture perfect smile was on her lips as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you?"

Trying my best not to think about my dream, I gave her a small smile. "G-good, yeah."

Fuck me, why did I stutter?

"You sure? You seem distracted," she noticed, making me swallow hard and look away from her piercing gaze.

"Yeah," I managed to say without stuttering once again. "Just tired. What about you?"

"Same," she said with a breathy chuckle, her leg brushing mine under the table and making me freeze. She didn't seem to notice as she continued, "I stayed up late binge-watching Netflix. Probably the wrong choice, but here we are."

I bit my lip to contain a laugh, relaxing a little. It was just a dream. She wasn't that bad. I was fine!

Class started and Mr. Hale was explaining something about doing a practical experiment today, but if I'm being honest, I was barely listening. Stuck in a daydream, I was wiggling my pen in my right hand and staring at the display behind Mr. Hale's head mindlessly.

Suddenly, a warm hand rested on mine, pressing it to the table and stopping me from shaking my pen. I shit you not, my heart stopped when I saw Wanda smirking playfully at me.

"D'you mind?" she asked, clearly finding my wiggling pen distracting.

All I could think about was how soft and warm her hand was, and then I became aware of her bare leg still brushing against mine – she just had to wear a dress today, didn't she? – and then the fact that she was still staring at me with amusement dancing in her eyes. My dream from last night returned to mind as she was still yet to remove her hand and I was lucky I managed to find my words as I choked out a response.

"S-sorry," I said, frozen in place, yet again, by Wanda's presence.

She snickered, shaking her head at my dismay, before finally letting go of my hand. I licked my lips nervously and let go of my pen, but not quite finding the energy to move my hand. I could still feel the warmth of her hand lingering on mine and, oh God, this was getting worse by the second. Why did I have to have that stupid dream?!

Clearly distracted by my own stupidity, I failed to realise that Mr. Hale had let us begin with our experiment, whatever that may be as I wasn't listening. Wanda was nudging me slightly, bringing me back into reality, and said something about getting lab coats and goggles whilst I got the bunsen burner.

I watched her leave and massaged my head, telling myself to get my act together. I was not the stupid cliché of a girl who acted nervous around her crush. I was better than that, goddamn it.

After getting the bunsen burner, I hooked it up to the gas tap as Wanda returned with our lab coats and safety goggles. We both put them on before Wanda gave me a knowing look, humoured smile tugging at her lips. I was beginning to hate (love) that look.

"You totally weren't paying attention during that, were you?" she asked, but she definitely already knew the answer.

"'Course I was," I played it cool, before wandering over to the handout on our desk. "We're doing an experiment."

She chuckled as I distracted myself with reading the instructions.

"So it says the first instruction is to boil some water in a beaker," I said with a nod. "Seems easy enough. Just gotta get a beaker."

My mouth went dry when Wanda hunched down on the desk, reading the paper between us. I hoped she couldn't hear how fast my heart was beating in my chest.

"You think you can manage that one?" she teased, glancing up at me with that same playful smirk on her lips.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief, similar to the one her twin possessed on a regular basis, and I'd never felt more stuck in place in my life than I did now. Without thinking, my gaze lowered to her lips and I realised then and there how badly I wanted to feel her lips against mine for real. She was so close I could move forward a mere few inches and feel it, but I didn't.

"Y-yeah, I'll get it now," I stumbled out, before literally stumbling over the stool as I made a move to leave.

I tried to ignore the way her gaze followed me and instead focused on getting to the beakers without passing out. To my relief, Y/BF/N was also collecting a beaker for him and his partner, too. When I stopped by his side, he looked up to see who it was, then smiled.

"You alright?" he asked, sensing my panic.

I shook my head frantically. "Definitely not. This is really bad, Y/BF/N."

Y/BF/N furrowed his brows, making me give him the look, to which he eventually followed what I meant.

"What happened?" he asked, trying (and failing) to hide his amusement.

I made sure nobody was nearby or could hear us before admitting, "I had a dream."

He raised his eyebrows suggestively, making me slap him on the arm quickly.

"Not that kind of dream, you perv," I clarified, before sighing. "But a dream. About you-know-who. And it threw me off and now I can't seem to act like a human."

He snorted as he tried not to laugh. I glared at him, shoving him again, making him laugh out loud.

"I'm sorry," he defended. "It's just– you've got it bad."

"Very helpful." I narrowed my eyes.

"Look, it's new which is why you're all awkward," he said knowingly, collecting his beaker. "It'll eventually pass when you get used to it. Until then, try not to do anything stupid."

"Too late," I mumbled under my breath.

He patted me reassuringly before leaving. I grabbed a beaker and turned around, deciding to take it easy. I'd get over it. I always did. I wasn't stupid. Yeah, I wasn't stupid. I had this!

But that thinking immediately went out the window when I approached our workspace and saw Wanda leaning on the desk, looking over the handout with thought. Her hair was pulled back for safety reasons, exposing her tensed jaw and pursed lips. She was wearing her lab coat over her black, knee-length dress and I'm not gonna lie, she looked extremely sexy today because she was wearing matching black knee-high boots. I gulped.

God help me.

—

You'd be relieved to know that my crush on Wanda died down after a while. Not in the way that I no longer had a crush on her – God knew I was overflowing with feelings for her – but in the way that I was getting a lot better at hiding it.

Which was perfect for when I saw her with her dick of a boyfriend. You'd be surprised how many times he kept popping up. And when he did, I always seemed to want to strangle him.

This time, I was working my new part-time job at a pizza place in town. Y/BF/N was keeping me company on my shift by taking extra long to finish his pizza so we could talk at the counter. I was drying some glasses as we spoke when the door to the parlour opened and the bell jingled, signalling new customers.

"I believe that's your cue," Y/BF/N teased, making me roll my eyes playfully.

My gaze wandered to the door where I saw a small group of teens walking in and finding a seat. It took me a second to realise that it was actually Wanda and her friends, including her boyfriend, who were looking for a table. My eyes widened with surprise as she looked around. Her eyes found mine and an excited smile appeared on her face as she waved to me.

"This just keeps getting better," Y/BF/N said when he saw Wanda heading our way, thankfully without her friends.

I pinched him before straightening up and plastering my best customer service smile on my lips. Wanda stopped before me, smiling between Y/BF/N and I.

"Hey, guys," she greeted brightly, to which Y/BF/N smiled in return, before looking my way and making my stomach flip at how pretty she looked today. "Y/N, I didn't know you worked here!"

"Yeah, it's kinda new," I answered coolly. "Gotta get that extra money, right?"

She nodded before grabbing the tip of my cap on my head and wiggling it, letting out a laugh. "You look adorable in your uniform, I must say."

I forgot how to breathe as she let go of my cap, her eyes still glittering with joy. Y/BF/N tried to hide his laughter as he sipped his drink, meanwhile I felt my neck heating up with embarrassment.

"Th-thanks," I got out nervously. I know what you're thinking – I said I got better at hiding my crush. And I have! I just– why did she have to put me on the spot like this?!

"I should get back," she said after a moment, pointing over her shoulder towards her friends. "But it was nice seeing you. Are you serving us?"

I nodded, regaining composure. "I'll be over in a minute. Give you chance to pick something."

"Awesome," she said sweetly, flashing me a final smile before heading back to her friends.

I released a shaky breath when she left, taking my cap off and massaging my head momentarily.

"I feel like she flirts with you just to see what happens," Y/BF/N said with amusement.

"It's just her personality," I mumbled, before putting my cap back on and taking a deep breath. "Time to work."

I continued to do my job as usual, thankfully not being affected by Wanda's presence, and took their orders. It was pretty uneventful as I served them their food and continued to hang with Y/BF/N by the counter. Every time I'd look over at her out of bad habit, I'd feel uneasy at the sight of Nate having his hands all over her. I mean, obviously he could – he was her boyfriend – but admittedly, I was a little jealous. I tried to ignore the feeling by busying myself with other things.

Wanda's friends were being a little noisier and rowdier than I'd liked, but it wasn't particularly busy so I saw no need to shut them up. Yeah, in hindsight, maybe I should have.

Clearing a table after some customers left, I balanced a tray of glasses in my hand and headed back to the counter. But on the way, a football came out of nowhere and got launched at my chest, making me drop the tray onto the floor with a loud crash. The rowdiness from Wanda's table ceased momentarily, as did the chatter from other customers, and I looked up to see Nate and his friends watching me, trying to suppress laughter.

"I am so sorry," Nate called with anything but guilt.

"Shit, Y/N, you okay?" Y/BF/N said, racing to my side in an instant.

I nodded, clenching my jaw, and bent down to clean up the mess. My boss must have heard the commotion as she came out from the kitchen and saw what happened, putting two and two together.

"Right, all of you out," she ordered without questioning anything, looking to Nate and the rest of the table. "We don't tolerate that tomfoolery here."

They groaned their complaints, but I didn't bother looking up to see, instead focusing on cleaning up the mess. Luckily for me, the tray took most of the hit rather than my chest, so unlike last time, I wasn't hurt.

"You're lucky I'm not charging you for the broken glasses, honey," my boss continued to scold Nate as he walked past, grabbing his football.

I saw feet shuffling past me, presuming it was their table leaving, and focused on picking up the large shards of glass and putting them on the tray. Y/BF/N helped out, even though he didn't need to, and I smiled at him as he knelt opposite me doing the same.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," Wanda's voice grabbed my attention, making me look up. She had a guilty frown on her lips as she looked between the mess and I.

I stood up, shaking my head. "It's fine. It's–" But I stopped speaking, instead letting out an exhausted sigh. "No offence, but your boyfriend is a dick."

She pressed her lips together, not saying anything. I felt bad for saying it, but this was the second time he'd hit me with his stupid ball. It was true.

"I should clean this up," I mumbled, avoiding her eyes. "See you at school."

She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. I knelt down and continued to clean up, hoping she'd walk away already. This was awkward enough as it was.

"See you guys at school," she finally spoke, making me pause. "Sorry, again."

Y/BF/N bid her a goodbye before she left for good. I let out another sigh, deciding not to say anything as I continued cleaning up. It would never make sense to me why someone as lovely as Wanda would be with someone as obnoxious as Nate. I guess I'd never know.

—

Since that lovely incident at the pizza parlour, things had been a little distant between Wanda and I. Mostly on my part if I'm being honest. I couldn't help it – the whole situation had been uncomfortable and embarrassing, making it impossible to return to how we usually were.

This meant that Wanda was the one to come to me and check in, which I definitely wasn't expecting.

I was at home one afternoon, hanging with my older sister who was staying with us for a week. She'd moved out a year ago, getting her own place a few towns over, so I missed her presence a lot. I took advantage of her weekly visit by having a catch up as we played basketball in the front drive.

Disclaimer: none of us were good at basketball, but the hoop came with the house and it was simply tradition for us to attempt to shoot baskets as we had a catch up. Only, this time, as we were talking, a loud car engine pulled us from our chat and we both spun around to see an unfamiliar car parking up.

"That must be mum's customer," Y/S/N realised, holding the basketball underneath her arm. She glanced at me with a quirked brow. "You think we're gonna get roped into helping?"

"Most definitely," I answered with a chuckle, and just on cue, our mum opened the garage door behind us.

She was a florist and had a large pick-up delivery for a customer today. Apparently they were a good friend, so she had the flowers delivered to our house and they were waiting in our garage until now.

"Can you girls give me a hand?" she asked my sister and I, motioning for us to go to her. "I'm gonna say hi. Just start bringing the crates out, yeah?"

We both saluted playfully before watching her go to the customer's car. My jaw dropped when I saw who it was – Wanda's mum. And to top things off, Wanda and Pietro were both with her, the three of them getting out of their car and greeting my mum with smiles on their faces.

"You cool?" my sister asked, nudging me slightly.

I closed my mouth, straightening up. "Yeah, yeah, duh."

She gave me a funny look but grabbed a crate and began to leave it in the drive for the moment. I swallowed the lump in my throat and did the same, knowing both Wanda and Pietro were approaching us after my mum pointed them our way.

"Y/N, hey," Wanda said, stopping before my sister and I. She gave my sister a friendly smile before looking to me with nervous eyes. "It's good to see you."

I tried to say something – anything – but my words got stuck in my throat and all that came out was a weird noise. Partially because of the awkwardness between us at my fault and partially because of how pretty she looked in her sundress.

"Hi, I'm Y/S/N," my sister cut in, noticing my quietness. She gave me a sideways glance before looking to the twins. "It's Wanda and Pietro, right?"

"Yeah," Wanda said with a smile, eyes lingering on mine before looking to my sister. "We're just helping our mum out to load the car."

"I'm the muscle," Pietro joked, lifting his bicep, making Wanda roll her eyes jokingly.

"Okay, muscle, you can come help me get these out the garage," my sister played along before looking to Wanda and I. "You guys okay to load the car?"

Wanda nodded. "Sure thing."

Y/S/N grabbed Pietro, who shot me a friendly smile, before leaving Wanda and I alone.

"Your sister seems nice," Wanda tried to make conversation as we both grabbed a crate and took it to the back of her mum's car.

"Yeah," I agreed uncomfortably. "She's just visiting."

Wanda hummed in acknowledgment, neither of us knowing what else to say. We walked past our chatting mothers before setting the crates in the back of her mum's car.

"Are we okay?" Wanda asked suddenly, as soon as our hands were free. I looked to her and saw she was debating something internally before looking to me. "I mean, I know we're okay, but I just– I feel like you've been off since, well... since Nate threw that ball at you."

My neck heated up with embarrassment as I cleared my throat; my eyes fell to the flowers in the crates.

"I really am sorry," she apologised again, resting a hand on my forearm, sending shivers up my spine. "He can be such a jerk sometimes. Does stuff without thinking."

"You don't need to apologise," I said, finally lifting my eyes to meet her anxious green ones. And I meant it – Nate's idiocy wasn't her fault and it was harsh of me to make her seem like it was. I sighed, knowing my distant behaviour would end here. "We're good, Wanda."

She still seemed uncertain. "You sure?"

I gave her my best smile, hoping she knew I meant it. "I'm sure."

Her tense shoulders relaxed and a relieved smile spread across her face. "Okay, good. I'm glad."

She held my gaze and I just knew my heart was beating too fast to be useful as she did. She was just so beautiful.

"You know, the whole point of splitting into teams was to be done quicker," Pietro's voice interrupted our staring contest.

He stepped between us, glancing between us with amusement, before setting a crate in the back of the car.

"Right, yeah, we were just on our way back," I said, smiling sheepishly.

Pietro smirked. "No harm no foul, princess."

I was taken aback slightly as he called me that, and even more taken aback when he plucked a flower from the crate and offered it my way.

"For you," he said, half joking and half serious.

Unsure what to say, I accepted the flower. "Er, thanks... I think."

Wanda crossed her arms behind him, eyes narrowed in his direction. I wondered what she was thinking, but never got the chance to ask as their mum's voice called out to us.

"Pietro, I paid to use the bouquets," she said with mild distress, "not so you could ruin them."

His cheeks flushed as he called back, "Sorry!"

I tried not to laugh as the three of us headed back to get the rest of the crates, being sure to set the flower to the side. We ended up filling her car with the bouquets before facing our parents as we bid them a goodbye.

"They're lovely, Y/M/N," Wanda's mum was complimenting the flowers. "Thank you again."

My mum patted her back. "Anytime, dear." She looked between the twins and my sister and I. "Thank you all for helping out."

Y/S/N and I smiled her way as Wanda's mum nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, thank you!" she added, looking to Y/S/N and I. "It's so great to see you all together. Especially you two, Wanda and Y/N. It's nice to know you're good friends after so long of barely speaking."

Wanda's face was beginning to turn pink as I'm sure mine was doing the same.

"Yes, I agree," my mum said with a smile. "Anyway, we won't keep you any longer. Good luck with the banquet!"

Wanda and Pietro waved goodbye to Y/S/N and I before joining their mum in the car. I followed her figure subconsciously, butterflies floating in my stomach until their car was gone.

"Damn, I really missed a lot," Y/S/N said when they were gone, wrapping an arm over my shoulder and tugging me closer. "You're crushing hard."

Instantly, I looked to her. "What? What are you talking about?"

She rolled her eyes, letting go of me. "So we're playing that game. Okay. I'll bite."

As she began to walk away, I chased after her. "What game? Y/S/N? What are you talking about?"

She merely laughed and allowed me to chase her, wondering how the hell she knew of my crush on Wanda. Was I that obvious?