#if she wants to continue watching this shit she better have a cigarette placed in-between my fingers and a lighter for my other hand

[eethend]

nicotine withdrawals and a roommate playing tik toks at full volume at 11:30 pm who will win

[queenxxxsupreme]

At the End of the World (Cooper Howard x reader)

(Part 2)

A/N: So I don’t know how much I like this, but I think after this piece I’m going to try to follow some of the show but just add my own little twists into it :) I hope you guys like it! Enjoy!!

Warning: nothing outside of canon, mentions of bad dreams and of child loss, a twisted ankle

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Sometimes Lucy doesn’t know when to stop asking questions. Here is Part 1 in case anyone missed it :)

You jolted awake, eyes opening wide and lips parting with a soft gasp. Your heart beat so hard against your chest that it actually hurt.

“Easy, doll.”

You furrowed your brows as you looked up at Cooper. Your head rested in his lap, his hand gently brushing over your hair.

You pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your hands over your face.

“Shit.” You cursed.

”Everything alright?”

”Yeah. Yeah, um…. Just a bad dream, I guess.” You looked over your shoulder to him. You moved to sit against your backpack, your leg brushing against Cooper’s. You bent your knees slightly, bringing your hands up to rub your face. “Do you have my smokes?”

He reached into the pocket on his jacket for the carton of cigarettes and a lighter. You took the carton and pulled out a cigarette. His eyes watched you put the stick between your lips. With a flick of his thumb, a flame appeared over the lighter. You leaned over to light the cigarette, taking a small breath.

“Heart’s racin’.” He commented.

You leaned back, blowing a cloud of smoke out of your mouth.

Your hand falls down to your lap, the cigarette dangling loosely between two fingers.

You try to fight the feeling, to fight the scratchy lump forming in your throat. Your right eye stings with tears and your chest tightened as if you were being suffocated.

“I miss her so much, Coop.” Though your voice was weak, he could hear your words just fine.

“I know ya do, doll.”

You hastily brushed the tears off of your cheek. Your gaze fell upon the Vault Dweller that laid fast asleep just a few feet away from you.

You raised the cigarette to your lips, the stick trembling just slightly in your grip.

“My Gracie would be about her age now.”

Wordlessly, Cooper reached over to place his hand on your knee. He didn’t know how to comfort you, how to make you feel better. As a parent himself, he knew what it was like to lose a child. Though for him, there was the smallest chance that his girl was still alive. He just wasn’t sure.

”Finish that cigarette, doll, then you need to try to go to sleep.”

You stiffly shook your head.

“I don’t want to sleep. If-If I have to see her again….” You trailed off.

Cooper let out a soft sigh. You were one stubborn lady.

Silence fell between the two of you. Your eyes seemed glued to Lucy but your gaze was blank. Even though you sat right next to him, you were a thousand miles away.

***

When the sun came up, you, Lucy, and Cooper were back to trudging across the Wasteland. You walked a few feet ahead of Lucy and behind her was Cooper. His eyes continuously scanned the Wasteland for any signs of danger, one hand resting on a handgun on his hip. He had bound Lucy’s hands before the three of you started your journey. He didn’t trust her.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” Lucy spoke as she jogged to catch up to you. You glanced over to her for a few moments before looking back to the path ahead.

“I’m not feeling too chatty today. Didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

”Are you okay?”

”Yes, I’m fine.”

”I’ve been having a lot of bad dreams lately too.” Lucy sighed out. “There’s just…. There’s so much death and-and blood. I don’t know how people do it.”

”We don’t have any other choice.”

”Yeah, I guess.” The vault dweller shrugged her shoulders.

“Some of us have had to go through so much that the thought of giving up now seems…. It seems pointless. We just….” You paused for a moment. “We just have to keep finding the next thing to keep us going.”

”Like what?” She looked over to you. “Icy, I-I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. You had a family, a whole family and-and now…. I wouldn’t be able to keep going.”

You pressed your lips together. You wanted to be angry with her, to be upset with her. If she thought that everything that had happened to her in the short time she’s been on the surface was bad, she was in for a nasty surprise.

“Sometimes after such loss…. It takes finding someone else who has been through similar things to keep you going.”

Lucy glanced over her shoulder to the Ghoul that traveled a little ways behind them.

The vaultie followed you down a slight incline, but she stepped the wrong way and twisted her ankle. Immediately, she fell to the ground from the pain.

“Ah! Ow! Ow, ow ow!”

”Quiet down, girly.” You knelt down beside her. She clutched at her ankle, groaning in pain. With your cybernetic left eye, you could see that she had overstretched the ligaments.

”What the hell happened, Vaultie?” Cooper looked down at the two of you.

“She sprained her ankle.” You sighed, untying her boot.

“Course she did.”

“Wait, what-what are you doing?” Lucy furrowed her brows.

”Your ankle is going to swell and if you leave it in your boot, it’ll only do you more damage.”

”Oh. O-Okay. Yeah, that makes sense. I guess.” Lucy breathed. “Are-Are you a doctor?”

You looked at her for a couple moments. Sometimes you weren’t sure if she was being serious or joking with you.

You put the boot into your backpack and stood up.

“She’s not going to be able to walk much longer, Coop.”

”Well she don’t got much of a choice, does she?”

You looked to the west where the sun was beginning to set.

“We’re about four hours out from Alma’s.” You looked to Cooper. His jaw went slack as he brought his hand up to rub his brow.

“Damn it.”

”Who’s Alma?” Lucy started to try to stand up. You held your hand out for her to help her to her feet, then you cut off the rope binding her hands together. It would make it easier to help her walk with her hands not stuck together. “Thanks.”

”She’s a friend.”

”A friend ain’t what I’d call her. She tried to kill me last time I saw her.”

”Well she isn’t exactly your biggest fan, Cooper.”

The Ghoul held your gaze. He didn’t want to go all the way to Alma’s. It was out of the way and would just tack more time on to the trip. Not to mention, he didn’t want Alma involved. But with Lucy’s new injury, you really didn’t have a choice.

”I reckon we’re goin’ to Alma’s.”

”Come on, Lucy.” You moved to stand on her right side to provide her support while she walked.

***

Six Hours Later

It was dark by the time you arrived at your destination. It was in what used to be a suburban neighborhood but many of the houses had long since been abandoned. You passed by one derelict house after another, eyes carefully scanning broken windows and rubble for any signs of danger. You knew the danger would be limited as Alma was in charge of most of the raiders in the area, but sometimes the raiders were a little rowdy and eager to attack.

There was one house that stood a little better than those around it. Its windows were mostly boarded up and there was a barbed wire fence around it. The siding of the house had long since lost its original color, instead taking on a more rusty brown color. The right side of the roof to the front porch had fallen in and it made the house appear unsafe to enter.

You stopped at the fence and let Lucy go.

“You two stay out here for just a moment.” Your eyes flickered back to Cooper. He nodded once in acknowledgement.

You slipped between the barbed fencing and then climbed the creaky wooden stairs. Just as you were about to knock on the door, it was pulled open.

An older woman stood in the doorway, a shotgun by her side. Her dark but graying hair was put up in some sort of high mess atop her head. Behind large lensed wire framed glasses were two big brown eyes.

“Icy May. Ain’t no way in hell I thought I’d be seein’ you again.” The shotgun in her hand was leaned against the wall on the inside of the house.

“Hello, Alma.” You smiled, embracing her tightly. “It’s good to see you.”

”You too, dear. So good to see such a pretty face.” She pulled away to get a better look at you. “You look all in one piece. What brings you all the way out this way, darlin?”

”I have a huge favor to ask you.” You stepped aside so that Alma could see the two who traveled with you.

Alma leaned forward, eyes squinting as she struggled to see whoever it was even with her glasses on.

“Oh hell, Icy May.” She shook her head, adjusting the old cardigan that she wore.

“Well ain’t it my favorite old maid.” Cooper spoke, giving Lucy a nudge to go through the fence. Lucy slipped between two of the barbed wires and nervously started for the stairs.

“Shut the hell up, you old bastard. I still haven’t gotten over what you did last time you was here.” Alma nodded her head to the side of the porch that had fallen in.

“I happen to think it made this place look better. More welcomin’.”

”Well I ain’t trying to be more welcomin’.” Alma put her hands on her hips. Her eyes followed Lucy as she struggled to get up the stairs. “What in the hell is this, Icy? A vault dweller?”

”It’s a long story, Alma.” You shook your head. “We just need to rest for the night.”

Her eyes flickered up to you, hesitating. A vault dweller could mean big trouble.

”Aw, what the hell.” She threw her hands in the air and turned to go into her house. She picked up the shotgun she had left by the door.

You offered Lucy your shoulder once again and walked with her to the living room.

The house wasn’t as bad on the inside as it was on the outside. Wallpaper was peeling off of the walls and in some places, it was missing all together. There was a fireplace that had been filled up with rocks. A sofa, which had definitely seen better days, was in the living room. Beside it was a rocking chair and a little end table. It appeared as though the end table was a combination of two different tables put together.

“You have a lovely home.” Lucy complimented.

Alma shook her head, swatting a hand at the Vaultie.

“There’s food in the pantry and water in the washroom down the hall. You’d better get cleaned up and settled for the night. It’s already late.”

”Thank you, Alma.” You offered her a little smile. “We’ll be gone when the sun rises.”

”Better be. Don’t want Howard fuckin’ anything up anymore than he got to.”

“Missed you too, ya old bat.” Cooper muttered.

You took Lucy to the washroom and left her there, then you went to the kitchen. Cooper was already helping himself to the pantry. He sat at the kitchen table with a can of some sort of nonperishable food.

“There’s the couch in the living room and there’s two rooms with mattresses.” Alma told you. She moved around the kitchen, gathering up a canteen and a pack of cigarettes.

”Where are you scurryin’ off to?” Cooper asked her.

”I ain’t scurryin’ nowhere, asshole. It’s past my bedtime and you bunch look worse than the backside of a feral hog.” Alma stopped at you to give you a one armed hug. “We’ll talk in the mornin’, honey.”

”Good night, Alma.”

”Night, girly.”

You watched her leave the kitchen then listened to the floorboards creak as she disappeared down the hallway.

“You should eat somethin’.” Cooper spoke. You rubbed his shoulder before moving to pull a chair up beside him.

“I will.”

It felt nice to finally be able to sit down. Your feet hurt and you were exhausted.

Cooper leaned forward to give your knee a squeeze. Your eyes flickered up to meet his gaze.

***

A little while later, Lucy had retired to the room she was going to be staying in. You and Cooper would be sharing the other mattress in the room across the hall from Lucy.

You made your way down the hallway, doing your best to be as quiet as possible. You didn’t want to disturb Alma.

You came to a stop in the doorway of Lucy’s room, watching her as she sat on the edge of the mattress . She was in the process of eating a can of peaches when she noticed you were standing in the door.

“Oh, um…” She quickly swallowed a peach and held the can out towards you. “Do you want a peach?”

”No, thank you.” You shook your head. “Alma is a good friend of mine.”

”Oh, yeah! She’s incredible. Super nice person.”

”Can I trust you to be here, Lucy?”

She stopped eating the peaches and directed her attention to you.

“She’s taking a big risk letting us stay here for the night. If anything happened to her while we were here….” You trailed off. “Alma’s one of the last few good people out here.”

She nodded her head softly, understanding what you were telling her.

”So do I have to keep an eye on you or can I trust you?”

”You can trust me.”

You weren’t sure you completely believed her.

“Good.” You turned to leave but she stopped you.

“Thank you, Icy. For…. For everything.”

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms.

“You need to stop thanking me.”

“You’ve practically saved my life by showing up. Who knows what that man would’ve done with me if you hadn’t come along.”

You gazed at her for a few moments, her bright blue eyes still filled with some sort of kindness. It wasn’t often that you came across those kinds of people.

“Good night, Lucy.”

“Oh, uh good night, Icy.” Lucy was confused with your sudden ending of the conversation. That seemed to be a trait of yours.

You moved down the hallway, your quiet footsteps still making the floorboards squeak.

Cooper was in the room the two of you would be sharing. He had taken off his bandolier, holster belt, and duster coat. All items had been placed in a pile at the foot of the mattress. The ghoul was lounging across the mattress with his breather in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and his shoulders leaning up against your backpack. One knee was bent and that was where his hat rested.

His eyes watched as you took off most of your layers. First it was your jacket, then the old flannel, and tattered sweatshirt. You were left in cargo pants, boots, and a thin brown tank top that had definitely seen better days. You pulled your hair out of the ponytail it was in to fix it up for the night.

“My, my, my. Ain’t you a sight fit for kings.”

I tried to bite back the smile that crept across your face but it was no use.

“Keep the charming to yourself, old man. We need to get some sleep.” You sat down on the mattress facing the ghoul. You leaned your torso against his bent leg, picking up his hat and placing it on your head.

He offered you the cigarette, which you gladly took. His breather was discarded on the floor beside the mattress.

You inhaled and held the chemicals in your lungs for a few moments. As you exhaled, Cooper brought his hand up to cup your face. His thumb, calloused and rough, traced your bottom lip.

You let him do so, your eyes steadily watching his face.

He traced the curve of your bottom lip, then used his fingertips to trail along your cheekbone and your temple. He brushed a few pieces of hair back out of your face.

”So what’s your big plan once we get to Hank MacLean?”

The ghoul paused for a moment, pulling his hand away from your face to rest it on his chest. You passed the cigarette back to him and he took it.

”I want to know what happened to them.” He was quiet as to not let his voice carry throughout the otherwise silent house.

You nodded your head. Cooper waited for you to speak. He waited, and waited, and waited. But you said nothing. All you could do was gaze down at one of the buttons on his shirt. The original button, which had been a light shade of brown, was torn off some time ago but you recall sewing a dark green button in its place.

“Say somethin’, doll.” He urged you, tapping the side of your leg gently.

You bit the inside of your cheek, finishing off the cigarette with a deep inhale.

“I hope you find the answers you’re looking for, sweetheart.” You put the cigarette out on the soul of your boot and started to move, wanting to reposition yourself. Cooper stopped you from moving, his hand grabbing yours.

“I just…. I have to find out, Icy.”

”I know.” You murmured softly with a nod of your head. “I’d want to know too, if I was in your place.”

It wasn’t like the two of you were in a full fledged relationship where one of you had asked the other to commit to you, but it also wasn’t casual. Cooper Howard didn’t do casual. It was far too hard to trust someone enough for that sort of thing.

”Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about it.” He put his head back, his hand steadily rubbing your leg as he directed his eyes to the ceiling. “I mean, if MacLean has been able to live this long, then there’s a chance…. even the smallest of one…. that they could be out there.”

You smiled a little, though it was sad and didn’t reach your eyes. If you believed in a higher power, you would pray to them to make it all true, to make his hopes and desires a reality. It was what he deserved after all that he had been through.

Though you wanted to be happy for him, your chest tightened a little with the idea of him finding his family. What would happen to you if he found his wife and his daughter?

You reached out to take his hand away from your leg, clasping your fingers together tightly.

“I hope they are.” You brought his hand up to kiss the inside of his wrist.

Cooper watched you kiss his wrist once, then twice before holding his hand in your lap. He didn’t let you linger in your thoughts for too long. He pulled you down towards him, making you lay down beside him.

“It’s nothin’ but wishful thinking.” He thought out loud.

“Sometimes that’s all that keeps us going.”

***

The Next Morning

Lucy made her way out of her room, using the wall for support as she limped down the hallway. She peered into the living room and found it empty. Her next stop was the kitchen.

The Ghoul sat at the kitchen table, which was covered in an assortment of junk. He was wiping off one of his hand guns.

Lucy looked around the kitchen, hoping and praying she’d find you or Alma.

Cooper glanced up at the vault dweller, very briefly meeting her gaze before looking back down at his weapons.

“Oh, um…. Good morning.” Lucy greeted him in an attempt to be friendly, but friendly wasn’t Cooper Howard’s thing.

He stayed silent.

Lucy leaned against the doorway to take her weight off of her ankle.

”Is Icy up yet?”

”She went out with Alma.” His answer was short and stiff.

“Oh, okay.” Lucy nodded her head.

She stood there for a few moments awkwardly. Should she just go back to the bedroom and hideout until you and Alma returned?

Oh, what the heck.

Lucy limped over to the table and pulled out a bulky wooden chair to sit in. She sighed in relief as she sat down. She examined the amount of junk on the table, curious as to what exactly everything was.

It wasn’t long before Lucy became bored and found herself watching the ghoul that had taken her hostage.

“So…. Is your name Cooper? Or is it Howard? Because, well, I heard Icy call you one and Alma called you another. So I guess I’m just a little confused.” She chuckled nervously.

”My name don’t matter to you, Vaultie.” He sat the handgun down on the table then picked up a shotgun.

“Well I’d like to have something to call you when I talk to you, to have a conversation like real people do.”

”Ah, but who said I wanted to have a conversation with you?”

Lucy pressed her lips together. This man was awfully hard to get along with.

”That’s fair, I guess.” She nodded.

Silence fell between the two as Cooper continued to clean the gun. Once he was finished cleaning the sawed off shotgun, he began to load it.

Lucy sighed, bored out of her mind. Cooper wasn’t entertaining at all. She messed with the cuff on her suit to try to keep herself occupied and to try to keep her mouth shut for a little bit longer.

“Do you love her?” The question kind of just came out without Lucy really realizing what she had said.

Cooper dropped the bullet that he was trying to shove into his gun. It made a loud banging noise as it hit the floor.

“What in the hell did you just say to me, Miss MacLean?” He looked at her, his eyes dark and sharpened.

The use of her name made Lucy feel on edge. He had always just called her Vaultie.

“I-I was just— I just see the way you guys are with each other. I didn’t mean it in-in a bad way, you know?”

The ghoul was silent as he held her gaze. He leaned forward to retrieve the bullet from the ground. He shoved it into the gun and placed the gun on the table.

The front door to the house creaked open. Lucy turned her head to see. You and Alma walking in.

“How’d you sleep, honey?” Alma put her hand on Lucy’s shoulder. The vault dweller opened her mouth to answer but Alma spoke over her. “Howard, if you don’t get your damn guns off my table, I’m gonna beat the piss outta you.”

Cooper didn’t offer any sort of smart comment back. He just picked up each gun and tucked them into their appropriate holster.

“I slept well, thank you. Where, uh, where did you guys go?” Lucy asked, turning her attention to you.

“Had to make a run early this morning.” You placed your backpack on the table, pushing some of the junk back so you had space. You rummaged through the bag before pulling out a stimpack. ”How’s your ankle feeling?”

”Really bad, actually. It’s super sore and looks very bruised.” Lucy eyed the giant needle at the end of the stimpack. “What’s, um, what’s that for?”

”You’re ankle. You can’t travel with a busted ankle and we can’t stay here.”

”But what is it?”

”A stimpack. It will heal your ankle up enough to get you back on your feet.”

With no warning, Cooper stood up and left the room rather hastily. Old floorboards creaked beneath the weight of his worn boots.

“What crawled up his ass?” Alma pushed her glasses back on to her head to hold her hair back out of her eyes.

“I don’t know.” You hummed. You listened to him move around in one of the back bedrooms.

He wasn’t a chatty person by any means, but surely he would’ve greeted you and Alma with some sort of witty remark. And you were very positive he would’ve given Alma an asinine remark about his guns on her table.

“What happened while we were gone?” You turned your attention to Lucy.

“I-I was just trying to talk with him.” She put her hands up, shaking her head.

“And…. Boy is he difficult to have a conversation with.”

You sighed heavily. Why couldn’t the vaultie get it through her head that sometimes she needed to shut up?

“I’ll be back in a second, Alma.” You looked over to your friend before going down the hallway to the bedroom Cooper was in.

He stood leaning against the side of the open window. He was fidgeting with his breather, replacing the empty vial with a full one.

”You leave me with that girl again, woman, and you’re gonna be scrapin’ what’s left of her brain off of Alma’s walls.” He grumbled.

You pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of your jacket.

“She’s got a way of getting under your skin.” You put the cigarette between your lips and tucked the carton away, then pulled out a lighter. “What’d she say?”

”Don’t matter.” He took a puff of the breather. You held the cigarette out to him and he gladly took it, crossing the room and closing the space between the two of you in just a few strides.

You watched as he put the cigarette in his mouth and took a deep drag from him.

“I’ll fuckin’ gut her like a pig next time she tries to talk to me.”

”You don’t mean that.” You shook your head gently.

He exhaled the cigarette smoke right into your face, then took another quick puff of it.

”Like hell I don’t.”

You took the cigarette from between his fingers.

“She means well.”

Cooper watched you, his gaze still hard and angry. You inhaled the cigarette.

“What did she say to you, Cooper?” Your voice was quiet.

He looked down at you for a while. Then let out a breath and adjusted the hat on his head, casting his eyes downward to his boots.

”We need to be leavin’.”

Without another word, the Ghoul slipped past you to go down the hallway.

taglist: @green--beanie @mack-attack420 @miniemonie2001 @eykismyfav @fallout-girl219 (I think I tagged anyone but I’m so sorry if I missed you!)

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 13: Dance of Darkness

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Lucy finally finds out the secret Tommy and Grace have been keeping from her all day.

Word Count: 4,440

Notes: Thank you so much to everyone for reading, and I hope you enjoy this last part! There will be a few one-shots posted hopefully soon that will take place between this fic and my rewrite of season 3, to fill in some of the the time gaps between the seasons and to tie up some loose ends here (sorry in advance for the cliffhanger ending). Warnings for depictions of angst, violence, murder, suicidal ideation, and references to sexual assault and pregnancy. Also a big ol' helping of miscommunication because they’re all STUPID.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Part

Chapter 14: Close

“Here,” Lucy lit a cigarette for Lizzie, watching her carefully as she clutched it in her shaking fingers. “The trembling is normal. It’ll pass.”

She could hear Arthur’s booming voice long before he and John spotted them. When they did, Arthur hauled up a chair, sitting down at their table. 

“Lizzie, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Working for Tommy, same as always,” she said shakily.

“You work for the Blinders?”

Lizzie nodded.

“Hey, have either of you seen Tommy?” Lucy asked, checking her watch, frowning. They shook their heads. “Shit,” she took Lizzie’s hands. “Will you be okay if I leave you with John and Arthur? I need to go find him.”

Lizzie nodded, and Lucy gave her another quick squeeze. “Okay. Hey, boys, can you…just sit with her, for a while? And make sure that she gets home okay? I’ve got to go.”

“Sure,” Arthur said.

“Of course,” John spoke at the same time. She nodded.

“Okay, thank you,” getting up, she rushed away, trying to think just where Tommy could have gone off to. Maybe to find May. Or Grace. The ring was closer, she would try there first.

“May!” she shouted, upon seeing her walking beside Grace’s Secret, preparing to take her home.

“Lucy?”

“Have you seen Tommy?”

“No, I figured that he would be with you.”

“We…we got separated and now I can’t find him.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “Things haven’t quite gone to plan today.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to explain,” May wrapped her arms around herself, looking down.

“May?”

“I met her.”

“Who?”

May looked up, expression apprehensive. “Grace.”

Lucy hesitated, guilt building in her throat. “Oh.”

“Mhm.”

“May,” she sucked in a deep breath, wishing that Tommy was there. He was so much better at the talking when it came to these things than her. “Listen–”

“It’s alright. Really. I understand. I think.”

“We never meant to hurt you or lead you on, or…we never thought that she would come back.”

May nodded. “I know.”

Sniffing, Lucy tucked some hair behind her ear. “I’d like to still see you. I’d like to still be friends…I understand if you don’t want that. I know that Tommy would like to keep working with you too, so, um…”

“I would like that.”

She looked up, genuinely startled. After everything, May really had every right to just tell her to fuck off. “Really?”

May shrugged, smiling. “Truth be told, I could use a friend.”

Lucy smiled. “Me too.”

“I have to get the horse home.”

“Right, yes. Go. Don’t let me keep you.”

May hesitated, then wrapped her in a quick hug. “Goodbye, Lucy.”

“Bye, May,” she watched her and the horse disappear, and then sucked in a deep breath. She would try Grace next. Upstairs.

She was climbing them two at a time, eyes continually scanning the crowd, looking for any sign of Tommy’s hat or undercut hair, when she nearly collided with Polly, who was leaving the betting room.

“Polly! You…you’ve spilled a little wine on your dress,” she said, lips curling upwards teasingly as she noticed the blot of red on the front of Polly’s white dress. Far two bright of a red to be wine.

“Hm? Oh, yes,” she clasped her bag over the spot. “It appears I have.”

“He get what he deserved?”

“More than.”

“Mm. How do you feel?”

“Better, actually.”

“Good,” Lucy nodded. “Good. Have you seen Tommy?”

Polly shook her head. “No. Why?”

“No reason,” Lucy lied, not wanting to alarm her. “Listen, Arthur and John and Lizzie are all over there, if you want to join them,” she pointed in the general direction of where she’d left them.

“I think I will. Are you coming?”

“No, I have some things to do first,” she bid Polly goodbye and rushed past the crowd streaming in and out of the betting area. A few coppers were gathered around one of the telephone booths, looking down at a body slumped over in one of them. Bye, bye, Major Campbell. May you rot in hell. 

Stretching up on her toes, then jumping slightly, she cursed her lack of height as she strained to see over the crowd’s heads, looking for the pink hat or dress Grace had been wearing. Oh, fuck it. Shoving past a man, she climbed up onto a chair, grinning triumphantly as she towered over everyone in the room, scanning them each one by one, until…

Aha!

Leaping down from the chair, she elbowed her way through until she tapped Grace on the shoulder, where she was sitting hunched over, smoking and looking more than a little anxious.

“Grace.”

“Lucy,” she straightened up, wrapping her arms around her. “I was getting worried.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I…have you seen Tommy? Did he come to see you yet?”

“No, no, I haven’t seen him since…” she trailed off, biting her lip. 

“Fuck,” Lucy ran and hand through her hair, scrunching away when she was jostled by a man behind her. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“You don’t have any idea where he might be?”

“No. He didn’t show up where he said he was going to meet me,” she glanced around helplessly. Like at any moment he might reappear right in front of her.

“Where was he headed last?”

“He was going to meet…” she stopped, teeth grinding together. “Ah, fuck.”

“What?”

She gave Grace a humorless smile. “I’m going to have to go talk to Sabini.”

“On your own?” Grace’s eyes widened.

“He might be the last person who will have an idea where Tommy is.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, love. I don’t think so.”

“I could help.”

“It’s just him and his assistant. The coppers are still all crowded around the king. I’ll be fine, promise. Sabini’s not so scary, really. He just likes to throw temper tantrums when he loses.”

Grace sighed, but nodded dejectedly. Lucy winced as she was jostled again.

“Let’s get out of this crowd, come on,” she took Grace by the hand, pulling her along until they got outside.

“Lucy, before you and Tommy were separated, did he tell you what he and I talked about?” Grace asked, a sudden urgency in her voice. The same one that had been there when she’d first approached them earlier in the day.

“No,” Lucy shook her head. “He said that he would tell me later. Why? What is it?”

Grace’s lips pressed together. “He said that he wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Grace looked at her stubbornly and she sighed.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” though she pouted a little, not liking the sudden feeling of being left out.

“I really think it would be better that he tell you.”

“If you say so. Look,” she glanced around. “How did you get here?”

“I have a driver.”

“Can he take you home?”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Lucy dug around in her pocket. “Here. Take this,” she held out a little brass key. “Go to the address on the key. Go inside, there’s food, bed…make yourself at home. Once I’ve found him and we get everything sorted, we’ll come there and find you, okay?”

Grace took the key gently, then nodded. “Okay.”

“It’s my flat. You’ll be more than safe there.”

“I know. Lucy, if something’s happened to him…”

“He’ll be fine,” Lucy insisted. Grace looked down, frowning. “He will be,” she repeated, sternly. 

Grace suddenly hugged her, very tightly. “I love you,” she whispered, into Lucy’s shoulder. She blinked hard, both stunned and suddenly overwhelmed with emotion as she wrapped her arms around Grace.

“I love you too,” she said, softly, then, with great reluctance, she pulled back. Giving Grace the most reassuring smile that she could muster. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Grace nodded, and began to head to the exit, pulling her coat tighter around her, key clutched in her gloved palm.

With a deep breath, Lucy turned around, and began to walk towards where she suspected Sabini would be: the fancy dining room near the top of the stairs. She spotted his pristine gray suit through the windows, talking with his assistant with a hushed, likely agitated voice. No point being subtle, or quiet. She needed the information and she needed it now.

Slamming the doors open she stalked up behind the two men. Sabini’s assistant spotted her first, and began to rise from his seat. Before he could even get half up, she punched him in the throat, as hard as she could. Sputtering and choking, he fell to his knees. And then she descended on Sabini from behind, grabbing him by the back of the neck and slamming his head into the table so hard the silverware clattered. Twisting one of his arms behind his back, she put enough strain on the bone to let him know that she meant business.

“So sorry for this interruption, ladies and gentlemen, but this will only take a moment,” she announced with a flashing smile to the other patrons in the dining room. “Where’s Tommy Shelby, Sabini?”

“Get the fuck off me you–”

She cut him off by putting a little more strain on his arm. “Just a little more pressure, Mr. Sabini, and I break your arm. Bad enough that you’ll probably need a sling for at least two weeks, maybe more. And I doubt that you want to have to go around town explaining to everyone how a tiny little woman broke your arm practically in two. So please, answer my fucking question. Tommy had a meeting with you, after which none of our people have seen him, so where. Is. He?”

His assistant was still coughing, doubled over on the floor. The room was silent.

Sabini let out a laugh into the tablecloth. “The fucking coppers took him.”

“Took him where?”

“I don’t fucking know! They took him outside, that’s all any of us saw.”

“Your coppers?”

“No, all my useless fucking officers are gathered around the king.”

“Hm,” Lucy frowned. “Stay still if you now what’s fucking good for you,” she barked at Sabini’s assistant, who had been trying to subtly reach into his inner pocket. Probably for a gun. He went still, but she kept an eye on him just in case. Raising her voice so that the rest of the crowd in the room could hear, she called out, “if anyone else here saw anything of interest, I suggest you speak up now. Because if I find out later that any of you kept something pertinent from me, I will find you,” she glanced around, listening to the silence. “No one?”

“They put him in a truck,” a man from the back blurted out.

“What truck?” Lucy asked, head cocked. The man shrugged.

“I don’t know…it was black. Didn’t have any markings on it.”

Shit. Sabini started to laugh. “You and your boss are done, you little fucking Gypsy slut–arghhhhhhhhhhh!” the scream that Sabini let out as she snapped his arm was almost louder than the crack. She tossed him to the floor. Straightening, she reached into her pocket and tossed a coin across the room to the man who had spoken up.

“Thanks.”

And then she swept out the room in a whirl of her black coat and red curls. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

The grave stared back at him, yawning and open and endless. Tommy stared at it with a combination of longing and disdain. He supposed that at least a part of him had always hoped for a funeral by fire. Not because he was traditional, but because the idea of being sealed in under the ground for the rest of eternity made his skin crawl.

Tearing his eyes away from the grave, he looked around, at the patch of dirt surrounding them, and the field beyond. He wondered if anyone would ever find him, or if he would be missing forever. Lost.

No, Lucy would find him, eventually. She would never stop until she had. Maybe she would dig him up, free him of the dirt one last time and burn him like he wanted. He could see her already, crying and shaking and digging frantically, as if she dug fast enough, she could bring him back to life.

He wondered if Grace would be with her. Watching from the car, perhaps. Or maybe with the news of his death, she would go off, be with her husband. Tell the lie that he had already suggested she tell. His child would grow up never knowing who their real father was.

Perhaps selfishly, he wished that they would stay together. Grace would be okay, he supposed. She had her husband and other family. Lucy didn’t have anyone. He was all she had; he knew that. It had always been a worry of his; what would happen to her without him. Maybe she’d bonded enough with May that she would be willing to take her in. Or she and Grace could go off together. With his child. That way, there would at least be a small piece of him still with them.

Swallowing hard, Tommy glanced at the three men tasked with delivering him to hell. “Were any of you boys in France?” he asked. None of them answered. “Allow a man a cigarette?” he wasn’t going to fight them, or make things difficult. There was no point, anymore.

“La Somme. Blackwoods,” one of them said.

“The Somme. The bulge,” Tommy said. The man nodded in permission.

“Smoke.”

He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket, placing one between his lips. Then pulled out his matches, shaking his head. “So fucking close,” he whispered, lighting a match and raising it to his cigarette. “So fucking close,” he said, to the man closest to him. He turned his back on the grave, unable to stomach looking at it anymore, tiling his head up to the sky and closing his eyes. “Oh, and there’s a woman. Yeah. A woman…who I love,” red curls, and green eyes flashing behind his closed eyelids. And another woman. Who I also love, he added silently in his head. Blonde hair and dimpled cheeks when she smiled…he saw them plain as day. Maybe he really could have had them both. Just him, his girls, and their baby. All four of them together. He wanted to cry. “And I got close,” he opened his eyes. “Nearly got fucking everything!” he shouted the last two words to the sky in anguish. 

Behind him, he could hear a gun cock. Tommy closed his eyes, letting his head drop, taking a drag of his cigarette, he turned back around to face that infernal hole in the ground. “Oh, what the fuck,” he muttered, taking one final, drag from his cigarette and throwing it to the ground. None of it would all matter in a minute or two, anyway. “Get it done, boys,” he walked to the edge of the hole, pulled out his pocket watch and dropped it in.

“Comrade, we have our orders,” the one who’d given him permission to smoke said. “You know how it is.”

“I know how it is,” he acknowledged. One of them pushed him to his knees, and all three aimed their guns at his head. Tommy closed his eyes, and prepared for the deep, forever peace of death to take him. “In the bleak midwinter.”

A foot suddenly pressed into his shoulder, pushing him sideways and into the grave, and there was a crack of two gunshots, in quick succession, going off. Tommy curled in on himself, hands held up to his head in a protective instinct. One of the men fell to the ground, but the other slid into the hole with him, face down, the back of his head a mess of blood and splattered brains. 

The gunfire had barely even ceased sounding, and the third man, the one who had shoved him into the hole, was speaking. “At some point in the near future Mr. Churchill will want to speak with you in person, Mr. Shelby,” he still had his gun half raised at Tommy. “He has a job for you. We will be in touch.”

Tommy just stared up at him, truly speechless, still laying in the grave that had been meant for him.

“Get out of the grave, you tinker!” the man said when Tommy didn’t move. “Be on your fucking way.”

Staggering, struggling slightly, Tommy managed to heave himself out of the hole, stumbling to his feet. He stared for only a moment more before he began to walk away.

He tripped, landing face first into the dirt, crouching in it, grabbing fistfuls of the stuff, pounding his hands into the ground, screaming, and sobbing. “Fuck!” he managed to haul himself to his feet, still sobbing. His face crumbled with his tears the remainder of the walk, hands shaking, lips wobbling as they pressed together. Only crying harder as he realized just how ready he had been to die.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Is there a Miss. Lucy Winters here?” shouted a voice. Lucy looked up from where she’d been leaning against the bar, not drinking her whiskey, but instead just staring at it blankly, trying to puzzle out just where those coppers, or whoever they were, had taken Tommy. She’d continued to ask around, practically begging anyone she bumped into for information about a black, unmarked truck. No one had seen anything.

“That’s me,” she said, raising a hand, as if she were in class and just had her name called.

“There’s a telephone call for you,” the man in the doorway said. Lucy nodded, downing the remainder of her drink and heading to the booths where the phones were.

“We’ll be closing soon, miss,” the bartender said. Nodding, she absentmindedly tossed enough money down to pay her tab. Most people had already left the races, leaving only a few handfuls of patrons and mostly workers milling about. The man who had told her about the phone call gestured to one of the booths, and she picked up the phone.

“Thank you,” she dismissed him. Taking a deep breath, preparing herself for the worst, she raised the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Lucy?”

“Tommy,” she almost sagged with relief. “Tommy, where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he cleared his throat. “I’m…at a phone booth right now. Can you have one of the boys come and get me?”

“Yeah, yeah, one moment,” she pulled out a pen and the notebook she kept in her pocket. “Okay, go,” she scrawled down the address he gave her. “What happened?”

“I got picked up by some men I’m assuming Campbell hired. One of them was working for Churchill. He let me go.”

“I see.”

“I’ll talk to you more about it when I get back.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. Wait, Lucy, is Grace still there?”

“I sent her to wait at my flat when it became clear that we couldn’t find you,” she said. “She’s safe.”

“Okay, good. Good. Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye,” she listened as the phone went dead, slumping backwards into the side of the booth, raising a hand to her eyes, breaths shaky.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

She winced at the way that the car screeched to a halt. Tommy was leaning against a red phone booth, smoking with his brows raised, blue eyes somewhat horrified as he’d watched her drive chaotically towards him down the road.

“Hi,” she smiled at him from behind the wheel.

“Dear God,” was all he said.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Love,” he took a step forward. “You just very strongly reinforced my reasoning for why I never, ever let you drive.”

She blew a raspberry at him. “Well, all the boys had left Epsom already by the time you called, so it was either me or you walk back to Birmingham.”

“Please tell me that you didn't run over anyone on the way here.”

“I’m not that bad!”

He gave her a look. “Scoot.”

She huffed. “Spoilsport,” she began to scoot over so he could get in the driver’s seat. “I did break Sabini’s arm though.”

“You what?”

“I was trying to find out where you’d gone! And he was being very nasty.”

“...Did he scream?” Tommy asked. Lucy grinned.

“Like a little baby.”

Something in Tommy’s smile wavered, turning his face away as he closed the door and started up the car again. Lucy leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried.”

He shot her a weak smile. “Sorry. I’m alright.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

She lit a cigarette, letting her arm dangle out the window as they began the drive back home. “So what’s this big secret that you and Grace have been keeping from me all day?” she asked, as nonchalantly as she could manage. Tommy tensed beside her, wiping at his eyes, wetting his lips. “Tommy?” she asked, beginning to grow more nervous.

“Grace is pregnant,” he said, not looking at her.

Lucy just stared at him in disbelief, feeling as though all the air had been punched from her lungs. She swallowed once, twice. Her hands had started to tremble.

“Yours?” she managed to choke out the question. Tommy nodded.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” was all she said, and looked down at her lap. Blinking her eyes open wide, to try to keep herself from crying. Well, fuck. Fuck. She supposed that was that, then. It was all over. He would go off with Grace and their child…begin their life together as a real family. She doubted that would involve keeping a concubine. Even though she’d do it, she realized. If they asked her to. 

It didn’t matter. So she forced the thought away. No point in hoping for an offer that would never, ever come. Surely there would be no room for her there. Neither of them would probably want her anymore.

“Hey,” she forced herself to smile, nudging him like she would normally. Despite the fact that it felt as though her heart was being torn viciously and hastily from her chest. “Congratulations.” 

Tommy shot her a nervous smile. “We didn’t have much of a chance to talk about it after she told me.”

“Ah, you’ll be fine,” she said, fully believing it. He and Grace would be good for one another. And they loved each other. Tommy would come up with some solution, regarding the husband. It would all work out. When Tommy wanted something to happen, he could all but will it into existence.

Fuck, she was going to miss him so, so much. She turned her head away again, feigning glancing out the window to hide the tears gleaming in her eyes before she managed to force them back. 

“Lucy…” he started to say. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, before he could continue. She didn’t think that she could handle actually having to listen to him break up with her. It would probably shatter her in half.

God, it was only just more salt in the wound that it had to be a pregnancy that drove them apart. The one thing that she could never give him. Not that he even knew that. She supposed, if she were looking for some silver lining in the whole thing, it would be that she was finally free of the obligation to tell him that little piece of information, hanging over their relationship like the blade of a guillotine all this time. She’d always figured it would be that which would do them in. Maybe, in a way, she’d been right. 

“I just think that we should talk about–”

“You should probably talk with Grace first. Before anything else,” she said, hoping that would dissuade him from continuing with what she was already certain he was going to say. 

Tommy’s hand reached out to take hers, thumb stroking along the skin of her knuckles. Lucy stared down at it with longing desperation. It all made sense, then. The way he’d kept looking at her all day, touching her hand…telling her that he loved her. He’d known that their time together was coming to a close. That he was going to choose Grace. Because of course he was. She was having his child. He loved her. It was what made sense. Lucy needed to begin to let him go. To let them both go.

And yet, for the remainder of the ride home, she did not let go of his hand.    

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Lucy followed Tommy and Michael dejectedly into the office. Tommy had wanted to swing by before heading to her apartment, to check if he had won his bet with Polly over whether Michael would stay or not.

Leaning against the doorframe, she watched him wistfully. She still felt raw, over everything, and really just wanted to go off to some place on her own so that she could have a good cry over the death of the only love she’d ever really known. Tommy poured three glasses of whiskey for them and she finally forced herself to travel deeper into his office, taking the glass he offered her, greatly needing it.

Perhaps what hurt even more was that Tommy seemed so…nonchalant about it. Like it didn’t cause him any sort of distress at all that their relationship was over. It wasn’t like she’d expected him to be weeping on the floor or anything, but a little more solemness would have been nice.

Maybe she really had been nothing more than a hole for him to fuck all these years.

Tommy raised his glass, and clinked it with Michael, then with her. She could feel his eyes on her as she swallowed the amber liquid down. He kept looking at her strangely, like he was trying to puzzle something out. He sat down in his chair, eyes tired as he leaned back in it.

“I’ve got some ideas, Michael. For the future of the company. And also…I’m planning on getting married.”

When her eyes darted up to him, he was smiling at the ceiling. She felt her shoulders slump, but did her best to mask it. Tommy was having a baby with and planning on getting married to the woman he loved. She needed to be happy for him. For both of them. Even if she still loved them. Even if she couldn’t be a part of their relationship anymore.

Looking down, she picked at a flake of bright red nail polish, and tried to hide away the agonized feeling of her heart breaking.  

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[children-of-epiales]

A Better Purpose

Word Count: 1.1k

2014

     She hears him panting before she hears the footsteps. Dulcie’s head falls into the palms of her hands, she runs her fingers through her hair and they fold, resting on the nape of her neck. “...Can’t be fucking serious, can’t I be alone for five fucking minutes?!”

“ Not while I’m fucking alive-” Jett’s hands shoot up beside him as the brunette shoots up and gets in his face, “-it was a joke, it was just a joke! Sheesh!” 

Dulcie remains, staring into the man’s eyes--straight into his soul--searching for something Jett knows she won’t find; he doesn’t know what she’s looking for, just that he doesn’t have it. “ I wasn’t tryna bust your balls, but you gotta realize we’re all here for a reason, Black. Looking to pick a fight with someone? This ain’t the place.”

The words earn him an uneasy glare. “ Yeah, that’s what they tell us.” She backs up then, her expression going lax with sudden disinterest and she squats back down in her spot. “ The one I want to fight is long gone-I don’t give a shit about anyone here.” She corrects the fellow. “ I’m here for the same reason everyone else is.”

“ Oh so you’re trying to get away from your family too?” 

Dulcie looks up at the dark-haired man, her head tilted curiously. “  Seems that wasn’t what you were talking about, I guess.” Jett grins, showing off his tooth gap while his hands find his belt and hang off of it. “ That’s why I’m here, Black. See how easy that was?” Seemingly trying to keep his hands busy, he digs into his back pocket and takes out a cigarette and a pack of matches. 

When offered a cigarette, Dulcie waves her hand in rejection. “ I don’t know how your girlfriend’s able to kiss you when your mouth probably tastes like those things.” 

“ Maybe because none of us knows when we’re gonna die-” Jett mutters back as he lights his cigarette with a match, “-so she kisses me because it’s possibly the last kiss we’ll ever share.” 

“ Yeah, you’re a fucking loser.”

The private laughs, his voice rough from however many packs of cigarettes he’s smoked in his life thus far. “ That’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever heard.” Jett shakes his head, he watches the brunette wave her hand in front of her and cover her nose. 

“ Goddamnit-Brooks, you need to give me some space! Fucking go!” She waves at him the same way a cat scratches at something it doesn’t like. “ That shit stinks!” 

Another laugh escapes the other private, he finally takes the cigarette out of his mouth and throws it on the ground. “ You know-people like you don’t last very long here,” Jett tosses his cigarette on the ground and steps on it. 

“ What the hell are you going on about now? Why wouldn’t I last long here?”

“ It isn’t you specifically, Black…” Jett corrects her, his smile dying down like a fire. A solemnity takes over his expression, and Dulcie thinks he could almost be sad now. “ It’s the mystery you’re trying to create-you don’t want anyone but the government to know who you are. You’re not the only one who’s tried. But you’re a human being like everyone else, and one of two things will happen as a result of your efforts.” 

When she doesn’t respond, the dark-haired man continues. He holds up one finger. “ You’ll be successful, but you won’t be human anymore-you’ll be something in between alive and dead.” Jett then holds up another finger, “ Or you will get killed.”

2021

     “ What do they call you?” 

Dulcie blinks, she shuts her eyes and opens them again. This is happening way too fast. “ Staff Sergeant-” She tries to answer the masked man. 

“ That’s not what I asked.” 

“ Dulcie Black-” The soldier tries again, flexing her bloodied fingers as a reminder that this is real. This is happening. Jett is lying on his back with a bullet hole in his head and her gun has one less bullet in it’s cartridge. “ My name is Dulcie Black.” 

The masked man lets out a noise--he’s chuckling at her--before turning on his heels. “ We’ll think of something good to call you, soldier.” He assures her as he squats down next to her comrade’s body. “ Nice shot by the way…” 

She watches him clear the body of whatever he desires, remaining plastered to the wall with some sort of sorry hope for something to happen. Something that might bring Jett back, that the whole event might be reversed and he might have changed his mind about following through with their lieutenants orders. 

Dulcie’s snapped out of her thoughts by the stranger when he steps in front of her, towering over the frozen soldier with his rifle in his arms. “ You made a decision of your own free will, soldier-if you stay here they’ll punish you for it.” He informs her in an almost pitiful tone. “ You’re a ranger, aren’t you? You didn’t like it when they gave you your orders before they shipped you off, did you? But you swallowed your arguments and did as you were told-he didn’t.” The masked man jerks his head in Jett’s direction. 

“ He was gonna report to the lieutenant-” Dulcie finally speaks, “-I busted my ass to become a ranger, but I didn’t do it just to murder people! If I wanted to do that, I wouldn’t have joined the military! I-I-” She swallows, looks down, then upward at the ceiling. “ But I didn’t have to shoot him…” 

“ If you hadn’t, this scene would look worse than it does now.” The stranger shifts his gun to one arm and extends his hand out to Dulcie. “ Call me Mace. I know your struggle, soldier. I will help you find your way and give you a better purpose than the United States’ army has.” 

The brunette squints at the hand, she glances back at Mace. “ What am I…Who are you? Do you really think I’m gonna trust you?”

 Mace chuckles again, sending a chill up the sergeant’s spine. “ I would have killed you the moment I entered this building, soldier.” He responds, “ You don’t have to join me, but once I’m gone-you will be on your own. Come.” Mace turns away then, he steps over Jett’s body as he leaves. 

Dulcie takes a moment to look over Jett’s body: how his eyes are still wide open, the small trail of blood and saliva that escaped through the corner of his mouth, the way his fingers remained firmly curled around his radio. It had to be done, she thinks, finally finding the strength to step away from the wall. 

The brunette steps over the body and follows Mace outside.

Tagging: @shegetsburned @voidika @poisonedtruth @scentedcandleibex @jinfromyarikawa

[lsdjrn]

SUMMARY

Henry chimes confidently, “Well, I'm betting that y'all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out. And when the sun's up, we'll show you one.”

Ellie wordlessly glanced at Joel, but he’s staring back at Javier instead. Two pairs of dark brown orbs dancing in suspicion. Javier breaks eye contact first. He stands up, staggers a little as he leaves the room.

“Whatever your answer is, you’ll say yes anyway.”

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Javier, please. Save who you can save.”

Palms sweating, numb fingers wrapped with racked anxiety as Javier tried to lower his Beretta. But his arms were locked in place, forced to point at a blank spot between his best friend’s piercing blue eyes. Javier could not bring himself to back up an inch, as a sticky crimson liquid pooled near their feet started touching the tip of his shoes. A lifeless body crumpled on the floor, unruly golden hair covering her face. Javier didn’t even want to glance at it.

“Steve, we can… I don’t think-”

“You know what the fuck these things are. And how the damage will eat up my body soon, just like Connie,” Steve hissed, his grip on Javier tightened even more, forcing him to raise the weapon again. He took a glimpse at the corpse, “End it now and go find the light. I’d see you soon.”

Steve’s fingers closing around his. Everything moved in slow blur.

Getting used to waking up from an unpleasant throwback in darkness is much less of a hassle these days, but Javier still finds that his fight-or-flight response keeps nagging him at times. He sits up carefully, wincing as his half-swollen right ankle screams in pain again. Javier groans. There is an unusual chilly air tickling his skin, accompanied by the ticking of his watch under the pillow, moving in a repetitive rhythm. Glancing at the empty blankets beside him–

“Shit. Henry?”

Flashes of the worst possibilities Javier always feared come to his mind.

Javier musters his energy to shake off the sleepiness out of him. Quickly he gathers his weapon and flashlight, running as fast as his limp leg allows.

After years pleading to any deities he thought existed in the world, this crumbled universe has started sending Javier surprises he doesn’t need anymore. Absentmindedly reaching into his back pocket, Javier mutters an unintelligible curse. Damn, how could he forget that he ran out of the last cigarette stocks yesterday?

Javier slides on the floor, staring at the two outsiders–one of whom bears an uncanny resemblance of his own face. He feels burnt out, and now Javier doesn’t even try to hide the exhaustion. The other person, a young girl, is eyeing him with a mix of amusement and caution before looking back at her companion. Father and daughter? Oh, what a sweet bonding time.

“Sam, how many times do I have to tell you that if your brother is trying to do something possibly dangerous, wake me up immediately,” Javier signs to the boy. Sam shrugs a little, continuing to munch his food but then he nudges Henry, who purposely avoids Javier’s gaze.

“Dude you still tryin' to play hero? You can’t even walk properly!” Henry protests.

“It’s temporary, and besides, I can't guarantee the safety of your actions when unsupervised by me. You’re lucky these people weren’t harming you.” Javier turned to the strangers, “I’m Javier. These are Henry, and Sam. He is eight.”

The teenager answered first, “Cool. I’m Ellie.”

She slaps the older man’s knee, causing Javier to almost snort at that gesture.

“I'm Joel. Look, you ate, we didn't kill each other,  let's call this a win-win and move on.”

If they encountered each other during the period of time where Javier fought and traveled for himself after going through too many losses, Joel would have been right. People without significant purposes of teaming up were better that way, or so Javier thought. However, as Javier struggles to keep Henry and Sam alive and escape this hellish city, Joel and Ellie’s presence becomes a star-crossed miracle. Especially with his recent careless slip ups, all Javier got were a sprained ankle and bleeding leg. One silver bullet found its way to his thigh, which definitely freaked Henry out because they all tried to perform the surgery with only a small amount of knowledge. Javier’s acts definitely planted extra hatred in their ultimate pursuer.

The prime days were over. He is nothing but a grumpy mustached guy now.

“Well, I'm betting that y'all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out. And when the sun's up, we’ll show you one. How’s that sound?” Henry offers.

“Um…” Ellie looks at Joel, but he’s staring back at Javier instead. Two pairs of dark brown orbs danced in suspicion. “I think we-”

“Whatever your answer is, you’ll say yes anyway.”  Javier abruptly stands up, excusing himself.

He staggers a little as he leaves the room.

“Welcome to Killa City.”

Through his yellow-tinted aviator sunglasses, Javier just realized how small Henry is in comparison to him, Joel, and the large windows in this building. But one thing Javier has always been proud of about Henry is his unwavering bravery from the first time they met, even when Henry silently told him how Joel's "asshole voice" creeped him out yesterday. Javier smiled a bit at his comment. Why should Henry feel that way when Joel is basically a copy of him?

It was a silly question to which Henry replied comically, “Jav, he ain’t on your level of suaveness.”

Thanks to the better lighting this morning, Javier can finally see more details of Joel’s face as Henry does most of the talking. There are curls, salt-and-pepper beards, rugged days carved in wrinkles, and probably a bunch of repressed motives under a guarded gaze. What a familiar callback to a reflection in Javier’s own dirty, cracked mirror. Intriguing.

“No FEDRA,” said Joel.

“Not as of 10 days ago, no,” Henry hums.

“We always heard KC FEDRA was…”

“Monsters? You are right,” Javier interjects, “Raped and tortured and murdered people for 20 years.”

Henry continues, “And you know what happens when you do that to people? The moment they get a chance, they do it right back to you.”

“But you're not FEDRA.” Joel raises his eyebrows, something doesn’t seem clicking with the way these two strangers do their function inside the city.

They both share a look before Javier slowly shakes his head, “No. Me and Henry, we’re collaborators-”

“I don't work with rats.”

“Yeah, you fսcking do! Today you do 'cause we live here and you don't. We know this city, and that's how we’re gonna help you get out,” Henry spits out, though his trembling voice doesn’t indicate an ounce of certainty in it.

Joel doesn’t look convinced at all. "Why? You have your cool friend."

“We saw what you did, the way you killed those men. And what a coincidence, I failed a flee attempt, was shot, and broke an ankle” Javier shrugs, ignoring the mocking tone. “Generally fucked up. More reasons we need strong backup.” 

Ellie and Sam’s laughter suddenly rings out, turning their heads at the same time. The two kids are engrossed in some kind of cheap joke book compilation. Javier’s softening gaze towards them doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel.

“Haven't heard that in a long time.”

Henry simply nods at his friend’s comment.

 Meanwhile, Joel sighs. This is getting nowhere if none of them make a decision. Despite everything, he has his own mission to go, and technically Joel is not obliged to keep them company after getting out of Kansas. Besides, it's always easy to remove unwanted danger along the way.

 “So Javier, how are we gettin' out?

The first time his name finally rolls off Joel's mouth, it carries a bitter sarcasm.

NEXT: 1.2. ARUNIKA

swastamita = sunset (sanskrit). the end is the same for everyone = lyrics excerpt from nothing but thieves' song, "six billion". Dividers credit: cafekitsune || saradika

[artemiseamoon]

Pt 2: In the aftermath of everything

Slate (ofc) & Walt Breslin & Sal Orozco | ft. Calderoni and an Omc

Words: 5,970

Warnings: vague sexual content, language

About: Slate reunites with Walt and Sal, and continues to navigate life after Mexico. Walt and Slate have a bonding moment.

Fic info | Read pt one here ** important to read this first | part three

Read on A03

An: This has taken on a life of its own! I did plan out the oneshot, after the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Now, the story wants to grow. I am merely a vessel so here we go. The weather forecast is predicting angst and longing. No Calderoni in this chapter, but we do find out what happened soon! We haven’t seen the last of him yet. - Next chapter is up! And he’s featured in it.

3 months later

“Hell of a reunion.” The words barely left Walts’ lips before he slid a cigarette between them. He's doing his lazy smoking, when the cigarette is dangling loosely from his lips. Somehow, it never falls, at least not yet.

“You know that shit makes me nervous, Breslin. Watch the cig.”

Walt chuckled. There wasn't much energy behind that either, it's low, just like his voice, “all the shit you’ve seen Slate? And this makes you nervous?” He glanced back at her, his eyes concealed by his shades, same as everyone in the car.

“Yep.” Slate grabbed the cigarette and pretended to throw it out the window.

Walt grinned, took it back, then slipped it between his lips. In the driver seat, Sal chuckled quietly, his eyes still fixed on the house ahead. Only a minute or two pass in silence before Sal speaks, “target on the move.”

That evening

Walt returned to the table and placed a drink before Slate and Sal.

“Thanks man.” Sal raises his to his lips,

Slate responds with a small nod then does the same.

“Thanks for coming out, I wanted people I can trust on this.” Walt said as he settled into the spot next to her.

“For you, “she traded a glance with Walt, then Sal, “and you, I’m in. No matter what.”

They raised their glasses then proceeded to drink.

Conversation was light, and no one forces anything. In the background, modern rock plays from the speakers mixed with some classics. Slate people watches as she drinks, and soon round two makes it to the table, this time on her dime.

Back at Walt’s place, late that night

Slate dropped down on the couch with a sigh. With three rounds of drinks in her system, she's feeling a little drunk and thankful for her newly cleared mind. Walt plopped himself down next to her. By the time Slate looks at him, he’s got a lit cigarette between his fingers.

“Thanks for letting me crash here, Walt."

“Least I could do.” He put the lighter on the side table.

Slate examines his face closely and grabs his chin, Walt stilled under her touch. “Hey, you sleeping?”

“I sleep fine.”

“Okay, sure,” she releases his face and moves her attentions to her socks. Rising one leg at a time, she peels them off as Walt watches.

Walt clears his throat, then settles his gaze on the cigarette smoke. “You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Nah, it’s your place, couch is fine.”

Walt took a long drag of the cigarette, then blew out a puff of smoke, “take the bed.”

Slate shifted on the couch so she could face him, "fine, if you insist.”

She studies his profile as he stares at nothing. He looks dead tired, but Walt never looked refreshed either, not really. He got close a few times and looks like a new man when he does get some sleep and a diet consisting of more than beer, scotch and cigarettes. A couple years back, he had about 10 more pounds on his thin frame. He was sleeping better too.

Slate understood better than anyone how stressful their job is. It has a way of taking its toll on everyone; physically, emotionally, mentally. As she studied him, Walt turned his head to look at her, his body is still facing forward.

One of the things Slate noticed about Walt early on is his large brown eyes, puppy dog eyes. Over the years they've been weighed down by so much stress, pain, and whatever else Walt buries deep within himself. His eyes hold back a turbulent storm of emotions and memories, all held in place by sheer will and stubbornness.

For those who know him well, Walt has another layer to his eyes. He always seemed on the verge of wanting to say something more than he does. Like part of him wants to open up, just a little. There’s this burning need deep inside of Walt and sometimes Slate just hugs him, unprompted, because he really fucking needs it.

So that's what she does next, she inched closer to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Walt laughed awkwardly at first, then breathed into it. Walt closes his eyes, then gripped her arm with a little squeeze. He inhaled deeply, savoring the contact, and the scent on her skin and hair.

“That bad huh?”

“Yeah, it’s just radiating off of you. Sad boy vibes thru and thru Breslin.”

Walt's eyes remained glued to her, “fuck off.” A hint a smile appeared, then disappeared from his lips.

“Yeah, fuck you too.” She smirked then released him from her arms.

Walt continues to regard her softly as she stands. “You have anything other than old take out and beer in the fridge?”

“Properly not.”

“Of course.” Slate shouted back as she headed into the kitchen.

It’s viewable from the living room, and Walt continues to smoke while watching her.

Slate closes the fridge and opens one of the cabinets, inside is a half empty bag of tortilla chips. “This will do.” She grabs the bag, a bowl, then returns to her spot on the couch.

“We’re going food shopping tomorrow; your skinny ass needs to eat.”

Walt laughed, “I do eat.”

“Cigarettes and beer, scotch for dessert. The Walt Breslin diet.”

“Asshole,” he nudged her with his elbow.

“I have one day left here, and we’re eating real food. Once I leave, you can go back to your shitty diet.”

“Thanks for looking out, I guess.” Walt chuckled and leaned into her, pressing his arm against hers.

She poured the chips into the bowl and before she could grab one, Walt grabs a handful. He grinned then shoved them into his mouth.

The two snacked in silence for a while. Eventually Walt gets up and leaves the room. When he returns, he’s carrying pictures in his right hand, the small kind you use for files.

“What's that?”

“Figured you want 'em, maybe for your picture wall or something,” he sits and hands her the photos, they’re all face down. Slate takes them. Her eyes lingered on Walts a little longer before she glanced down at the photos. “"I've seen that stack of photo album you have.”

“Hey, I love photo albums okay, don’t judge me, “she turns the first photo over. Instantly, her smile drops to a frown and Walt wonders if this was a mistake.

His intention was to do something nice; he was never really good at reading women or knowing what to get them, friend or more. Send him to another country to take down some bad guys, he's in his lane. But anything having to do with gifts, or women, or being emotionally open; he’s pretty rough around the edges there.

Slate swallows hard and sets the other photos down, her eyes are fixed on the same photo she now holds in two hands.

“Shit, I fucked up.” Walt reaches for the photo; she moves her hands out of his reach.

“No, it's- it's okay I,” she blows out a breath and looks Walt in the eyes, “I just, haven't seen his face since - he drove into a fucking tank…” she forced a laugh, “more metal than I’ll ever be, fucking asshole.”

When she blinks, a single tear rolls down her cheek. They both take the deaths hard, and though Walt had history with Ossie and knew him longer, once Ossie and Slate met, it was like long lost friends getting back together. It was hard to imagine they didn’t know each other already. They were instant best friends, and his death really fucked her up. Slate didn’t talk about the deaths, nor did Walt. They're alike that way.

“I miss this fucker, “Slate gently places the photo down on the coffee table in front of them. Ossie's grinning in it, fresh off some arrest and just smiling like he won the fucking lotto, classic Ossie.

Walt laid a hand on her shoulder, “I can take 'em back.”

“No. I want them. I want to remember their faces, “she meets Walt's waiting gaze, “add them to a photo album 'cause you know, I’m sentimental. “

A thin smile curved on Walt's lips; he gives her shoulder a little squeeze before taking his hand away.

“Thank you, Walt. For the photos."

Walt rubbed the back of his neck as relief washed over his face, “it was touch-and-go there, wasn't sure if I did good, or if you were about to clock me.”

“Maybe both?” She teased.

Slate breaks eye contact first and Walt continues to stare at her, “hey, is Sal leaving tomorrow?”

“Day after, same as you.”

“I have an idea," when she paused, Walt notices her eyes land on the photo again, "dinner, all three of us. Before we disperse into our little corners of the world again.”

“Then we definitely need take out. Have you ever seen me over a stove?” Walt raised a brow.

“I’ll cook, and no, you’d properly burn the kitchen down. You can be my sous chef.”

He scrubbed his hand over his chin, “I’m good at a few things, cooking isn't one of them.”

“That’s why you’ll be sous chef, leave the heavy lifting to me."

“Speaking of, still seeing that chef guy?”

“God no, that's done, he was more of a mess than I am.” Her eyes meet Walts, “Speaking of love lives, are you seeing anyone?”

Walt drops his eyes to his hands, he's fiddling with the lighter now, “no.”

Mexico was four months ago now, and in that time, Walt’s been keeping as busy as possible. His new job started out shitty, mostly paperwork. But when he finally got some foot action, it improved things, gave him less time to think. Less time to feel all the shit he doesn't want to feel.

In that time, he did reconnect briefly with an old associate and the two hooked up, twice. Walt tried to hold on to the comfort of those nights; having someone in his bed, a body next to his, warm soft skin to touch. The brief fling was a much-needed release for all his pent-up energy. Walt tried to not think about it, but he made amends with being a lonely guy a long time ago. Just, after Mexico, he’s feels lonelier than ever.

“Besides, “he picks up one of the last chips in the bowl, “if I had someone, I’d probably fuck it up. Better to just be alone.”

“Breslin, that's some depressing shit.”

He sits up and looks her in the eyes. His little shrug after is the real kicker.

Sad boy Walt Breslin.

Despite the thought, Slate doesn't judge him. She hadn't made the best decisions herself, specifically the Commander. And she figured she wasn't the best girlfriend material either. She has a lot of stuff to work on, and release before she can share herself with someone.

For now, as it has been, she sticks to fleeting sexual adventures and one-night stands. If Walt knew about the Calderoni thing, she’d never hear the end of it, it’s one of her big dark secrets and she intends to keep it that way.

“I’m not much better, “her voice is so low he leans in to hear her better, “I’m damaged goods too. Properly wouldn't even know what to do in a relationship at this point.” She leaned back on the couch and brought her knees to her chest, “thank god for hot dudes who don’t need conversation or heart to hearts.”

“At least one of us has been getting laid, congrats.” He holds the chip out to her, then eats it.

Slate rests her gaze on the wall ahead.

A minute or so passes before Walt asks, “if you got the opportunity to go back, to do more, would you?”

“Hell no.” She replied swiftly. “No way.”

Walt grinned, “I can understand that.”

“We did what we did, it ended how it ended. I have no reason to ever go back.” Slate gets a faraway look in her eyes; one Walt has seen before. “You would,” Walt quirks a brow, “go back I mean. Think you’re the only one who would.”

Walt doesn’t reply, because she's right. Even if the commonsense part of his brain is telling him to stay his ass on this side of the border, he knows, if given the chance, he’d be on a plane and right back into the madness. Sometimes, Walt wondered if that was the only way he could really exist. He still finds himself struggling a bit in mundane regular life. Still, there is a part of him he keeps deeply hidden, a part of him that craves more but he won't let himself have it.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, both swimming in their own thoughts and observations about things. Some time passes before Slate breaks it,

“Sometimes I think I need to talk to someone about all the shit that went down, not just Mexico, before that too. “She pauses, Walt's eyes are on her again, “my family didn't believe in therapy…funny how family shit has a way of settling into your bones. Next thing you know, you're perpetuating the same patterns.”

Walt frowns, but it feels more personal to him, and whatever is going on in his head right now.

“I’m thinking about getting a therapist.”

“Hope that works out.”

Her gaze falls to his bouncing leg, “You should think about it too, Walt.”

“Nah, me and my problems are my business," Walt touches his chest, "I’m fine.”

“Walt,” She gently places a hand over his, “seriously, as your friend, you should consider it. We can do a friendship pack, make sure we stay accountable.”

He shakes his head, no, “Slate, it aint gonna happen.”

She frowns and lifts her hand; his eyes follow the movement of her hand from his leg to her own. He can see the disappointment written all over her face and wishes he had a better answer for her, but to say anything else would be a lie. He's impressed she's even considering it, it's a mature move. Walt also doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so changes the subject.

“How they treating you in New York?”

“Alright. It’s a big department, the shit jobs suck but honestly, don’t know if I can handle anything high risk right now.” she replied, taking note of his subject change but not commenting on it.

“Well,” Walt stands up and stretches, “if you ever get sick of it, I could get you in here.”

Slate smiled, “Miss having your buddies around? You know they didn't put us in the same place on purpose.”

“I know, fuck them. You, me, Sal in the same place again. Let's make it happen.” His tone raises a little as his excitement grows," think I can get Jaime on board."

Slate stands too and stretches out her legs. “No one knows me back east, it's kind of nice.”

“Can't fault you on that.”

“Well see,” she pats his arm, “maybe I'll change my mind.” they look at each other for a moment, “I'm pretty beat, going to take over your bedroom now.”

“Please do,” Walt steps aside and motions to the hallway, “changed the sheets for you and everything. “

“Wow, hotel level service at the Breslin, lucky me.” Slate heads toward the hall and glances at him over her shoulder, “nite Walt.”

“Goodnight, Slate.”

Dinner the next night

Sal ate another bite of food then dropped the fork, “Slate, you were holding out on us. This is delicious.”

“I couldn't really whip up a meal in an old warehouse, could I?” She smiled as she carried a glass of water to the table.

“Shit, we could have made it work, if we were going to eat like this.” Walt takes a big bite; he looks like a chipmunk.

“Thanks,” She takes a moment to watch them eating, enjoying the looks on their faces and the sounds leaving their mouths.

She liked to cook, didn't do it often, but when she had time, and if she was in the mood, it was a whole thing. And though only a small amount of people in her life were able to see this part of her, she knows food is one of her love languages. Making it, offering it, asking if someone ate. After everything the three have been through together, this feels extra special, and even if it's just for one night, she’s glad they get to share this.

Slate knew Sal through Walt. She met him about 3 years back after her transfer to Houston. They even worked a few jobs together, but he mostly worked with Walt. When Walt’s brother died, Sal and Slate were there for him. The two sat with him all night. Walt was gone, he didn’t talk, he didn’t cry, he didn’t say a word; he just stared at the wall and ran through half a pack of cigarettes.

-Flashback - 2.5 years ago Houston, Texas -

Slate stepped away from the car and stood before Sal, neither spoke as he raised the radio to his mouth.

“Walt, we need you at 3500 Lockwood right now.” He lifted his finger from the button.

Slate looked over her shoulder at the car again, “This is gonna fuck him up Sal.”

“ I know - “Sal paused as Walt’s voice came through the radio, they can hear music in the background.

“Sal, what is it?” Walt asked.

“It’s your brother.”

“I’m on my way.”

Slate rested her hands on her hips as she paced. There was nothing left to do, just wait for Walt's arrival.

A few short minutes later, the sound of screeching tires pulled their attention to the street. Walt’s jeep came to a stop, and he flung himself out; concern written all over his face as he makes his way through the crowd, and under the tape. After Walt flashed his D.E.A badge to the cop, he approached the crime scene, Sal and Slate walked over to him.

“Walt - “Sal started, but Walt kept walking, his eyes fixed on his brothers' car.

Sal and Slate stay closed but gave him space as he approached the car. Walt used the sleeve of his jacket and grabbed the car door. Opening it, he crouched down, and took a closer look at his brother. He's dead in the driver's seat, eyes closed, blood splattered on the window glass. Cocaine and a pack of cigarettes on the passenger seat. The red and blue lights from the police car continued to flash, coloring Walt and the inside of the car.

Sal approached first and shakes his head regretfully, “I'm sorry man.”

They continued to stare at Walts back, he went completely still. Slate swallowed then called his name. Walt got up and stalked away from the car, not saying a word or looking at either of them.

“Fuck.” Slate turned to Sal,” what do we do?”

“Nothing we can do. Not right now at least…go, keep an eye on him. I’ll catch up.”

Slate nodded then headed off after Walt.

- Flashback over -

To this day, Walt doesn't talk about that night, or his brother. But he did thank them one night as they had a few rounds,

“Thank you being there, means a lot.” Six words. Six words with a whole lot of weight behind them.

Slate knew, their shared history was only one of the many reasons he asked them to Mexico. He handpicked everyone on his team. It made the loss of their guys; Ossie, Danilo and Amat even harder. They weren't strangers, they were people Walt knew.

For Slate, she only knew Sal, and Daryl vaguely. Everyone else she met for the first time on the job. In their time together, they became a dysfunctional- functional family. Even years from now, she knows she’ll still miss them, even the ones she didn’t get to know that well.

During this dinner, as they eat, drink, joke and laugh, she misses them. She can imagine them at the table; Ossie to her left making a joke or fucking with someone, Amat across the way with a smile that reaches his eyes as he enjoys himself, and Danilo with a beer in his hand, listening but not saying much.

The ghost of their three fallen friends fills the room, they're here, she can feel it. Slate's eyes drift to the box of playing cards on the counter, and a memory comes rushing back.

- Flashback -

“Oh, come on!” Slate throws her cards down on the table. Amat smiles and sits back in the chair with a proud grin.

“I won.”

“No, best of three, let's go - “she grabs the cards and shuffles them again.

“She’s a sore loser, I warned you.” Ossie shouted from where he’s sitting, he looks like a kid hanging from a jungle gym.

Slate doesn't look up but frees on hand to flip him off. She gets a chuckle out of Sal whose reclining on the couch.

“I got the green light.” Walt strolled into the room, a coffee cup in his hand. "This is it.”

Ossie cheers before jumping down to ground level, “Whoo-hoo!”

Walt stops at the table where Slate and Amat were playing cards. Daryl comes over, a beer in his right hand. He's chewing the last of his lunch. Danilo is off to the left, but still close enough to see and hear everything going on.

“The golden ticket, the whole reason we’re down here. We know where he is, so today we go get him.”

Daryl asked, “what about the army?”

“Not leaving. We go in guns-a-blazing we’ll get eaten alive, so we gotta do this one different.”

Stale looks to Walt,” what's the play? After Verdin, shits loud. We gotta be careful.”

“I fucked up, shit got a whole lot harder. We’re on their radar, our only advantage is they don't know our identities yet. We’re in this fight, so let’s finish it.”

-Flashback over-

“Too bad Daryl couldn’t make it.” Sal commented, it pulls Slate out of her thoughts and memories.

“Smash and grab crew, back together.” Walt grins before taking a drink of his beer.

“His girl is pregnant right? Daryl?” Slate asked.

“Yeah,” Walt answers, “our boys about he be a family man.”

“Cheers to that. After everything, we deserve all the good we can get.” Sal raises his beer, Walt and Slate do the same.

Later that night

“Can't believe he's asleep already.” Slate observes Sal, he's knocked out on the couch, his mouth slightly open. She glances at Walt who’s sitting on the side of the armchair.

“Should we draw on him?” A childlike grin brightens Walt's face.

“Fuck yes we should!” Slate is first on her feet and looks around for a marker. She finds one and creeps over to the couch, barely holding back a laugh.

“He’s going to kill us.”

“For sure.” She whispered back then kneels down. She inches close to Sal's face and pops the cap off the marker. She can hear Walt in the back, trying his best not to laugh. Slate draws a curly mustache on Sal's cheeks.

Walt peers over her shoulder.

Slate looks at him, “If Ossie was here, he’d draw a dick.”

Walt catches his laugh in his hands.

Slate opens the marker again, “I'm gonna draw a cock for Ossie.” she examines Sal, then settles on his forehead. Walt can't contain his laugher and leaves the room.

The suppressed laugh is making her body shake. After she finishes, Slate caps the marker then goes to the hallway toward the bedroom, where Walt is curled over laughing.

“What next Breslin, I’m too amped to sleep?” She tosses the marker at him.

“I know I'm not fallin' asleep on your watch, not with this fucking marker.” Walt tucks it in his back pocket.

Slate grins, “For the best, you'd wake up with something long and hard drawn next to your mouth."

“You would do that,” Walt takes a breath and glances at the clock on the wall.

“I have an idea, its genius, hear me out,” she drapes one arm over his shoulders, “let's go out, I’ll be your wingman.”

Walt moistens his lips, then smiles.

“Oh, come on, today is one of the best we've had in a long time, I don’t want it to end. I know you don't either. So, let me play wingman, I bet you 20 bucks I can get you laid tonight. “

“I really regret making that comment now.” he shoves his hands deep into his pockets.

“Oh, come on, don't be shy. I know you aren't. Let me help, I'm a damn good wingman.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement, he can't look away.

Walt considers the offer. Truth is, it sounds like the perfect way to end the day and it's been a while, not that it's the longest he's gone without, there have been longer stretches.

Slate tightens her grip around his shoulders, “Come on, it will be fun."

Walt's expression grows serious, “I don't know Slate,”

“Is it weird because it's me?” she asks.

Walt starts to say something, then stops himself. He pulls it back, deep down inside of himself. Instead, he says, "today was nice. I think I’ll try to get some sleep though. And I'm holding on to this marker." He patted his back pocket.

“Really?” she pouts.

Walt lifts her arm from his shoulders, “yes, I suck I know.”

“The nights young.” Slate tugs on his shift.

“And I'm not,” he offers a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes, “I'm taking the armchair, fell asleep in that thing plenty of times before. Bedrooms still yours.”

Slate leans back against the wall, her eyes searching Walts, a very clear grimace on her lips.

“Don't give me that face, I know, “he steps into her space and ruffles her hair with his hand. “Get some sleep.”

“Fine,” she exhales dramatically, “I’m going to use your phone, I’ll be quiet so the old man can sleep."

He laughs at the last part, “Its midnight. Who the hell you callin' at midnight?”

“Joaquin will be up; I need something to do.”

“Who's Joaquin?” Walt rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh, “she shakes her head, “just this guy."

“A boyfriend?” he asked quietly.

“I wouldn't call him that," her eyes drift to a photo on the wall, it's a generic art print, likely came with the place and Walt never took it down. She adds, "

“We hang out, nothing official.” When her eyes travel back to Walt, it gives her pause, now he looks disappointed. “Hey, massive mood shift, you okay Breslin?”

“Fine, tired.” He muttered, then turned toward the living room. “Good night, Slate.”

She watches him leave, then heads to the bedroom. Once she's inside, a flash of clarity takes over her buzzed mind. Was Walt disappointed because she mentioned Joaquin? Walt never cared about that kind of thing, and they've been friends for years. They've spoken casually about dates they've had before and he never seemed to have a reaction, not until now. Or maybe she was over thinking it. Maybe he was just put off by the phone call comment. it was midnight after all.

The next day, Slate wakes with a slight hangover, but it's easy to shake off. She finds a very pissed off Sal and helps him get the marker off his face. He eventually laughs about it, and she makes him breakfast as an apology.

Walt sleeps in, which was a surprise. But when he does wake, he seems far away and quieter than usual. It makes for an awkward morning, at least on that end. Once Sal heads out for his flight, it was just the two of them. Walt didn't say much, and instead of sticking around longer, Slate decided to head to the airport early. Walt dropped her off, and even their hug goodbye seemed off.

That Night, Slate back in NY

Stepping off the elevator, Slate stops before the mirror and checks out her outfit. Satisfied with what she sees, she takes a right and head to apartment 3C. Slate knocks on the door once more and it swings open. Joaquin peeks his head out, and drinks her up with his eyes, “fuck, I'm a lucky man."

Slate steps inside, grabs his shirt and pulls him down into a kiss. She slides one hand in his hair and shuts the door closed with the other.

"I think you missed me." He whispered as their lips parted. Slate doesn't confirm, nor deny.

The kiss quickly escalates to a heated make out. When they break for air, Slate grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head and arms. Once he's shirtless, she lightly scratches his chest and moves to his belt buckle.

Joaquin grabs her face and looks into her eyes, "How was your trip?"

Slate undoes his belt and pulls it off in one impressive movement. She tosses it across the room, "no questions, keep kissing me.”

Later

Slate watches the curtains sway in the breeze, it's a nice night out and the moon is nearly full. She stretches her arms over her head and hums, her body is still buzzing.

Javier is starting at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. "I was thinking about something."

"Yeah?" She rolls onto her side to get a full view of him.

Often times she found herself just gazing at him. Besides being a great lay, Joaquin is nice to look at, and she likes his voice, she's always been a sucker for a man with a good voice. He rides a motorcycle and looks damn good in all black and a leather jacket, as long as he didn't want more from her, she planned on keeping him around a while.

Meeting him was an unexpected treat, she was at a bar, not to meet anyone, just to drink away her Calderoni problem and say goodbye to her short lived and ill-fated tryst with the hot chef. She was at the bar about 30 minutes when Joaquin entered. He wasted no time introducing himself, and that same night they slept together for what became the first of many times.

"Hey, did you hear me?" He asked gently as he caresses her arm.

"Repeat that?" She brings herself back to the present moment.

"It's been two months now, I still don't know anything about you, except what you told me."

"I prefer to remain mysterious." She winks at him.

Joaquin sits up, opens the top side drawer and pulls something out; it's a preroll. He feels around on the table for a lighter, finds it, then lights the joint.

“Every time I light one of these up, I wonder if you’re going to arrest me.”

“I could if you want me too,” she smirked, then took a hit of it.

Joaquin watches her with a grin, "I'm going for a long ride tomorrow, want to come. Out to Hudson."

"Sure, I'm off, unless I get called in," she hands it back, "but I should be free."

"Cool," Joaquin caresses her face, "it's a plan."

Two days later

After crossing everything off her list for the day, Slate found herself thinking about the photos from Walt. Heading to the bedroom, she pulled them out the drawer she tucked them in and sat at her vanity table. She placed then down one by one; Ossie, Amat, Danilo.

- Flashback-

“Sure you’re up to this? We’re in this with our lives, if shit goes down, it could be worse for you.”

Slate continued peeling the label off the bottle. She took her time but eventually made eye contact with Danilo. It's short lived, her eyes then follow the puff of smoke from his cigarette.

“I know the risks. No way I can do this job and not know that."

Danilo nods and continues to smoke.

Slate lowers herself to the ground, sits, then knocks back the rest of her beer.

“How long you’ve known Walt?”

“Shit, about, 11 years?” She glanced up at Danilo, "on and off, we weren't always around each other the whole time.”

“Fucker gets a round, doesn’t he.” Ossie jumped in as he steps outside, wearing a joker's gin and holding a beer.

“Yeah, lots of notches on his belt.” Slate replied. Her eyes jumped to Danilo, who seemed indifferent.

“Was it dinner and a movie, or straight to fucking?” Ossie barely keeps a straight face as he asked.

“Jesus.” Danilo sighed, then headed back inside.

Ossie chuckled as he watched him disappear inside. He takes a seat on the ground beside her.

Slate twist her neck to look at him, “Dinner and a movie, I got the whole 9. You?”

“Nah straight to it, Walt's a man of little words.”

They both laugh at Ossie's response. As the laughter dies down, they grow quiet and listen to the sounds of the night.

Eventually, Ossie said, "Must feel weird, being the only chic here.”

“Naw, used to it. This happens a lot.'' She puts the bottle down between her legs. Ossie nods, then lights a cigarette, "I smell like smoke all the time because of you guys.”

“Should join the fun.” he offers her the cigarette,

Slate pushes his hand away, “Hard pass.”

- Flashback over -

Pictures in hand, Slate headed to the living room and stopped in front of her photo collage, it's full of familiar faces, friends, her youth, and more. Taking her time, she adds each photo to the collage then takes a step back to review it. As she steps away from it, her phone rings. Slate heads to the wall and answers, her ear is met with a familiar voice,

“Hey.”

“Hey, Walt."

“I uh,” from the sound of his voice alone, she can imagine Walt leaning against his counter, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder. “That case I told you about; the hearing was today.”

“How'd, it go?” She sat on the floor.

“Good, we got the bastards.”

She hears the excitement in his voice, and it makes her smile, “Congrats, you should be celebrating. I hope you are.”

“One man party right here, drinks and all, “Walt goes silent, and Slate just listens, waiting for him to continue.

She tried to call him when she got back, but he either wasn't there or didn’t pick up. That was three days ago now. The awkwardness in the air when she left still hasn't been addressed. She wasn't mad at Walt for not saying anything, she didn’t know what to say either.

“Slate, I was wondering’ - “Walt stops himself.

“Wondering what?”

He doesn't reply.

Slate knew this call could be one of two things, one, his way of saying he needed someone to talk to. Walt never asked for a friendly ear, instead he'd call about something else, or talk to you about work, or invite you for drinks on him. This could be one of those calls, or he could be the one ready to address their awkward goodbye.

The longer his silence goes on, the more curious she grows, “wondering what, Walt?”

“Ah, nothing, just, work stuff…it was good having you out here.”

Slate closes her eyes and rests her head back against the wall. “Yeah, it was nice Walt.”

“I’m gonna go, have yourself a goodnight.”

“Yeah, you too Breslin.” she listens for a click sound, it doesn't come. Slate can still hear him on the other side listening to her, the same as she's listening to him.

Feeling overwhelmed, Slate stands and whispers goodnight into the receiver once more before hanging up the phone.

Next

Might be interested. If not, I can remove the tag ;) chapter 2&3 are on A03 as well @yourlocalspacewitxch @ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc

Joaquin FC (Slates new side piece)

[sweetestgrethan]

Underbelly

Tags: Slice of life, face fucking, holiday season

Hi! I’m obsessed with this au so here’s part 4 even though I just posted one lol. Time skipped a couple more years, to their 30th bday! Enjoy!

WC: 2611

————

Ethan took a slow drag from the cigarette between his fingers, exhaling towards the sky, hoping it would make the smell less noticeable. He was sitting on his and Grayson’s porch, on the steps that led up to their front door, arms wrapped around his knees.

Ethan could feel the way the air was shifting already, spring turning into another burning hot summer. It was still cool enough to enjoy the weather, so Ethan tried to take advantage as much as possible. He liked watching the neighborhood pass by as they lived their lives, watching cars drive past and squirrels climb up trees, birds swooping by and neighbors offering polite smiles on their daily walks.

Ethan didn’t startle when he heard the door behind him open, feeling the floorboards under him creaking under Grayson’s weight.

“You know I don’t like it when you smoke,” Grayson scolded softly, smiling anyway, reaching down to pet the top of Ethan’s head before he joined him on the steps, sitting right beside him.

“I was feeling rebellious,” Ethan explained, returning the smile and watching Grayson settle.

“There are better ways to act out,” Grayson smirked and went to grab the cigarette from Ethan’s hand, taking a drag for himself.

Ethan watched Grayson fondly, admiring the way his lips curled around it, how the smoke bellowed out of him unceremoniously. “I was thinking..” Ethan trailed off, still staring.

“Uh oh,” Grayson joked, handing the cigarette back to Ethan.

Ethan laughed softly before he continued, ashing the cigarette on the step below them. “I want to move. California is so… I don’t know. I’m done with it, you know?” He said honestly, finishing off the cigarette before he threw it on the bottom step, crushing it under the heel of his shoe. “I wanna be somewhere quiet. And beautiful. Where no one will bother us.”

Grayson smiled at Ethan as he spoke, nodding along. “I agree,” Grayson murmured, wanting to touch, to place a hand on Ethan’s thigh or kiss his cheek to show some form of support, but he was keenly aware that anyone could see them on their stoop, that any neighbor could pop out and see the twins doing unsavory things if they weren’t careful. So, he refrained, kept his distance and his hands to himself. “Jersey?” Grayson suggested, still staring at his brother’s face.

“I considered it,” Ethan admitted. “I wish we could move back in with mom sometimes. That house is perfect,” he chuckled.

Grayson laughed too, because he had the same thought. Their childhood home was everything they wanted, with the unwelcome prying eyes of their mother. “We can look at something close to her, yeah? Our own piece of land. We can make it our own.”

Ethan nodded eagerly. “That sounds nice,” he hummed, ignoring their rule, the one about not being too obvious in public, snaking his hand onto Grayson’s thigh and squeezing it gently.

————

“3, 2, 1!”

The family of four all struck a pose as the flash of the camera went off, bursting into fits of laughter after the photo was taken.

Although the weather in LA wasn’t exactly fit for sweaters, they each had on a matching ugly sweater, something their mom had insisted on, for the sake of the holiday spirit.

“Grayson, your eyes are closed again!” Cameron guffawed as she looked at the photo they had just taken, turning the phone around to show it to the twins.

“Shit,” Grayson laughed, giving Cameron an awkward smile in return. “I’m sorry, I have to blink,” he insisted.

Ethan came up beside him to look at the picture too, shaking his head playfully. “I think it’ll make a great postcard,” he assured through a laugh.

It was a strange feeling, although exciting, to have their mom and sister here to celebrate their birthday and Christmas, in the home where Ethan and Grayson had grown so much, both as people and in their relationship. Ethan had been quite nervous about it at first, the premise of having to act normal around them for the next two weeks, but Grayson had assured him that they’d done it their whole lives, it wouldn’t be any different this time around.

Ethan had noticed a change in their mother coming up to this trip, in the way she talked about them. They’d grown used to her asking about girlfriends, boyfriends, family plans, about when they were going to move away from each other. Now, she rarely asked about any of that, in favor of asking how they’d been, what they were up to, how work was. Ethan didn’t want to assume she knew about them, but it made him a bit queasy to ponder her new acceptance of their relationship as it was, two brothers who were content to live side by side their whole lives, unimpeded by spouses. They were turning 30 in a few days, the age where they should’ve been thinking seriously about starting families and settling down, but they couldn’t deny what they really wanted, which was to be together, just the two of them.

It’s just Grayson and Cameron one morning, up quite a bit earlier than Ethan or their mom could ever bother to be up. Grayson had made them both eggs and blueberry pancakes, to Cameron’s surprise.

“Ethan’s not much of a cook, so one of us has to be able to feed us,” Grayson explained with a smile, eyes downcast at the imperfect pancakes he was cutting into.

Cameron smiled softly at that, watching Grayson curiously. She’d been wanting to ask about that, about Grayson and Ethan. How they worked, how neither of them had any intention to separate from each other anytime soon. Cameron had only ever passively cared about what her brothers got up to, never really caring to look too deep into their bond. It was different now, all of them were much older and much more mature. She’d wondered for years if there was anything more, if their closeness was just on the surface level.

“I bet you still do all the laundry and handle the finances too,” Cameron quipped back, taking a bite of her eggs as she watched Grayson laugh.

“Actually, he’s gotten better at the finances part. Can’t say he does much laundry, though,” Grayson hummed and took a sip from his water. “We have a good system. We try to trade off on the chores and stuff.”

Cameron is slightly shocked that Grayson didn’t deny that part, the part about them sharing money, like a couple. She itches to ask what she really wants to ask. It all sounds so domestic in a way she can’t quite wrap her head around. “You’re better than most married couples,” she commented, offhandedly, though she realized too late what she was implying.

Grayson paused for a moment, only taking a second to gather his thoughts before he continued eating. No way, he thought. There’s no way. “We fight like a married couple, too,” he tacked on, trying his best to dissolve the cloud of tension that settled over them.

Cameron looked Grayson’s way again, narrowing her eyes at him, like she was trying to figure it all out. “Be honest with me, Gray. Like, really honest,” she finally said, setting her utensils down to give him her undivided attention.

Grayson looked up at Cameron with a carefully practiced expression, furrowing his brows as if he was confused. He knew the day would come when she would ask, he’d practiced for this exact scenario. “About what?” Grayson replied easily and shoved another piece of pancake in his mouth. He wasn’t going to be honest at all, as long as he could help it.

“You and Ethan. It’s.. It’s more than you’re letting on. I see it, Gray, the way you look at each other. Living together this long. Not one mention of other people,” Cameron watched as Grayson broke eye contact with her, looking down at his plate with an almost guilty expression. Cameron remembers that look from when they were little, when she’d catch them getting up to no good. Grayson doesn’t need to say anything in return, but she wants to hear it from him so she’d have some peace of mind.

Grayson isn’t exactly sure how to proceed. He never expected his sister to be so adamant about the topic. It seemed like her thoughts were set, that Grayson could probably do little to convince her otherwise. Grayson shrugged, returning her intense gaze and letting out a breath through his nose. “Why do you care?” Grayson countered. He hadn’t meant to sound sassy, or rude, but it was a genuine question. Why did it matter? Why was it so bad that he and Ethan loved each other so deeply?

Cameron finally seemed to relax at Grayson’s answer. It was all the answer she needed. Truly, she’d been coming to terms with their relationship their whole lives, so it was barely shocking to her anymore. She couldn’t say she was exactly in favor of her twin brothers being together in this way, but she also knew she could do nothing to pull them apart, even if she really wanted to.

“I don't,” Cameron said after clearing her throat, back to eating her food like before. “It’s sweet. Built-in soulmate,” she concluded, offering the smallest smile, trying to ease the stressed expression on Grayson’s face.

Grayson found himself speechless again. This wasn’t how he thought this morning would go, unintentionally revealing themselves to their sister. “We’re good together. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of him,” Grayson mused. He thought, if he could prove that it was blissful, that he wouldn’t want it any other way, then any of Cameron’s preconceptions could be proven wrong.

Cameron finished off the last bite of her pancake, leaning back in her seat to take Grayson in, arms crossing over her chest. “No nieces and nephews for me to spoil, then?” She teased.

Grayson tried his best to let his guard down, to just be normal about this, to accept that Cameron wasn’t saying any of this maliciously. “We’re trying,” he admitted. “I’m not too into the idea of him, uh, carrying, but we’re looking into some other options. Adoption, surrogacy.”

Cameron nodded. She couldn’t help but feel herself growing embarrassed, almost uncomfortable. It was a natural reaction to hearing any mention of her siblings’ sex lives. “He’d be such a wimp about it, anyway,” Cameron laughed. “He can’t even handle having a cold.”

Grayson laughed, too, feeling like it was okay to do so, to about this with her. “Yeah, I guess so,” he smirked.

————

Ethan giggled as Grayson pushed at his shoulder, the older twin dropping to his knees obediently. He looked up at Grayson with big, shiny eyes, glistening with his intoxication. He could still feel the warmth of the rum he had earlier blooming through his chest as he gently tugged down Grayson’s sweats, only enough to take him out of his boxers.

It was Christmas Eve, and the house was quiet, save for the sound of the air conditioning, and the low hum of the abandoned Christmas movie in the living room. They had all wanted to stay up and watch it together, as a family, but both Cameron and their mom had bowed out in favor of sleep. Ethan and Grayson didn’t mind, of course.

Ethan was never subtle when he was drunk, so it had been hard to keep his distance until they had left. He’d followed Grayson into the kitchen when he said he wanted to grab some snacks, having other things in mind.

“I can trust you to be quiet, right?” Grayson purred as he watched Ethan pull his boxers down, revealing his already hard cock, bobbing a few inches from his face.

Ethan nodded eagerly, a hand wrapping around the base so he could stroke the length of it. This was extremely stupid, doing this in the kitchen where they could very easily be found, but Ethan didn’t really care at the moment. He’d spent the whole week sleeping alone, with only stolen kisses here and there, and he could barely function without the excessively close contact he was used to.

“Shut me up,” Ethan challenged and leaned down, spitting on Grayson’s dick so his hand would glide more smoothly, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out, inviting Grayson in.

Grayson was certain he wouldn’t last very long, not at this rate, with Ethan being as effortlessly sexy as he was. Grayson wordlessly took a fistful of Ethan’s soft hair in his hand, using the grip to steady himself as he slowly pushed himself down Ethan’s throat. Ethan was always so good at this, pliant and soft and wet, no gag reflex to get in the way of Grayson wrecking him.

Ethan let out a silky noise around Grayson as he slowly started a pace, eyes closing as he concentrated on relaxing his throat. Grayson was already pushing him all the way down, forcing his lips to press against the base, nose buried in the patch of pubes above it. If only Grayson could see how wet he was, how he felt like he was soaking through every layer he was wearing. He didn’t dare touch himself, not wanting to stop the pleasant ache or the slick that never ceased to spill out of him. He clenched around nothing, desperate to feel Grayson’s cock inside him.

Grayson tried not to make a sound as he fucked into Ethan's mouth, letting out shaky breaths that threatened to turn into soft noises. "Missed you,” he groaned softly, pressing Ethan all the way down and keeping him there for a few moments, able to feel the way his gag reflex flexed around him. Grayson used his free hand to feel along the length of Ethan’s neck, squeezing his fingers around him so he could feel the outline of himself there, making his cock jolt in his mouth.

Ethan hummed again, flattening his tongue out to make more space, drooling down his chin and making a mess of his shirt. If he could come untouched, he would’ve been shaking from the gentle squeeze of his neck, Grayson admiring the way he fit inside of his throat. He made sure to keep his hands folded in his lap, knowing Grayson liked having full control of him, with no roaming hands to deal with.

"You're so good, just for me," Grayson purred and pushed his hips forward, on the verge of his orgasm as he thrusted into Ethan's mouth. His twin was perfect in every way conceivable, so receptive to him and what he needed, even if it happened to be in the middle of their kitchen, while the rest of their family slept just down the hall. "You want my load down your throat, E?" he growled and tugged his hair harder, watching Ethan's face scrunch up, trying desperately to tell him yes, please, I need all of it.

When Grayson did come, Ethan stayed impaled on the girthy length, letting his throat muscles work around him as he swallowed, not pulling off until he was certain he'd gotten all of it. The room seemed to spin a little more after he finished, pressing lazy kisses to Grayson's tummy as he pulled his sweats back up. "I need more," Ethan whined, knowing it wasn't likely that they'd be able to fuck properly, even though his body ached for it, needed it to function.

"I know. Me too," Grayson hummed, still sucking in slow breaths, recovering from his orgasm as he leaned back against the counter.

————

I know it’s going a bit slow. I do like writing in this style though, just little blips of their life. Hope you liked it :-) lmk your thoughts in my ask box! 🩵🩷

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 4: Deja Vu

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1, ...(Masterlist)... Part 5

A/N: Back at it again with another chapter! I hope you are all ready for some tension! Kind of sad I have to go back to work soon, I won't have time to post as regularly as I have the past week. I hope you guys like it! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag-list!

Word Count: 2,000

Warnings: Swearing

As August approached its final week, the reality of returning to school truly set in. Your mom gave you money for school supplies and even gave you extra to buy a new outfit. While she was asleep, you slipped the money back into her purse. You never liked spending your mom’s money. It was what had driven you to first start babysitting. She already did so much for you and worked so hard. It didn't feel right. 

You hadn’t worked since you had gotten out of the hospital but you had a bit stashed away, just in case. If you needed school supplies or clothes you would be using your own money. 

Unfortunately, there were some things that were not open to negotiation with your mom. One of them being your transportation to school. You lived off the school bus route and your mother insisted that the 10 miles was too far for you to bike every day. You didn't bring up the fact that it was never a problem before. You knew that it had more to do with the fact she was terrified something would happen to you again. So instead, you relented. She wanted you to take her car but you insisted that she might need it at home if something happened during the day. The two of you eventually came to the agreement that you would either get a ride from Hopper or Steve. 

Around this same time, you would have one of your last conversations with Billy that summer. 

You were walking in the neighbourhoods on the west end of Hawkins. You didn't come to this area often. The homes were small and slightly run down, not much better than your own. You were heading to the West Point Lookout, it was outside the quarry and was one of the few places in this area that offered the type of solitude you were looking for. The view was an added bonus. 

As you walk, your attention is drawn by the sound of raised voices. 

“Fucking piece of shit!” You slow your pace, finding the source of commotion. A little ways ahead of you and across the street you can see Billy and his father. You watch as his father angrily tosses a hammer to the ground. “I need to pick up more studs. I want this porch painted by the time I get back,” You hear him yell, climbing into the camaro and slamming the door. “Or it’s your ass!” he adds, jabbing a finger in Billy's direction before pulling out of the driveway. 

You come to a complete stop as you watch the car disappear around the corner. You turn your attention back to Billy as he stands on the patchy grass of the front lawn. He looks so tense you are surprised he doesn't snap in half. In a burst of movement that causes you to jump, Bully lunges forward, swiftly kicking a metal paint can across the yard, letting out a frustrated scream.

You avert your eyes, planning on continuing on your way, hoping to avoid any heated interaction with Billy. But something stops you. Looking back to Billy you watch as he rakes his fingers roughly through his hair, taking a seat on the porch steps. He pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a long drag. He inhales the smoke deeply, like he needs it more than oxygen. You aren't sure, from how far away you are, but you think you see his hands shaking. He looks very alone… and scared.

You take a moment to curse yourself for feeling so empathetic towards a practical stranger. But, the whole situation feels vaguely familiar to you, you can't seem to put your finger on it, like the worst kind of deja vu. 

“This is so stupid…” You grumble to yourself before taking a deep breath and begin walking towards Billy. As you approach, his head is down, one hand rubbing the back of his neck the other rolling the lit cigarette between his forefinger and thumb. 

“The place looks pretty good.” You comment as you draw closer, approaching the steps from the driveway. Billy’s head snaps up, clearly surprised to no longer be alone. Seeing you at the bottom of the steps his expression quickly shifts into a hard scowl.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, taking another pull of his cigarette. Trying to remain civil, despite his hostile tone, you reply evenly. 

“I was on my way to the quarry, I happened to see you and decided I would stop by. Say hi.” You shrug your shoulders, idly putting your hands in your pockets as you stand at the base of the steps. He chuckles without humour, a malicious smile pulling at his lips as he stands. The flash of his teeth as he advances on you reminds you of something dangerous. 

“Well that’s just great! The village crazy showing some neighbourly hospitality.” There is a pause as he stands in front of you. He takes another pull off his cigarette exhaling the smoke directly into your face. The smoke stings your eyes making them water but you force yourself not to cough as he leers down at you. His tongue darts out over his teeth, like a wolf baring its fangs. “Now get the fuck off my driveway.” he spits venemously, dropping the cigarette butt inches from your sneakers before stepping between your legs snuffing out the embers with the toe of his boot. 

You can barely breathe with how close he is to you. Thankfully, he turns sharply and walks over to a workbench grabbing a new can of paint. You watch his back as he uses a flathead screwdriver to pop the lid off the can, pouring the white paint into a roller basin. 

Every rational part of your brain is telling you to walk away, to listen to him and turn around, to go back to your walk, back to your solitude. But, the stupid, kind, and stubborn part of you makes you stay. Walking forward you grab one of the paint rollers off the ground and move to stand next to Billy. 

“I want to help.” you say simply. Billy turns to you, anger burning in his eyes. 

“I don’t need your damn help, loca! I said get the hell out of here! You have a death wish or something?!” He growls, threateningly taking a step towards you. You try to keep your expression neutral as you meet his eyes. Internally you can feel your heart racing and grip the paint roller with both hands to keep them from shaking. 

“According to you? That’s exactly what I have.” you respond coolly. Billy’s eyes scan your face, the tension between the two of you sparking like electricity. After what feels like an eternity Billy finally relents.

“Fine.” he barks, turning to grab the other paint roller. “I don't have time to argue with some crazy bitch.” He grumbles, dipping his roller into the paint. “But if you fuck something up, it’s your ass.” he says, moving to one side of the porch. You quickly follow after him. You can't help but feel a small sense of victory as he explains exactly what needs to be done and how to do it. 

Then, the two of you begin. You work in silence for roughly 10 minutes before Billy disappears inside. He emerges with a boombox. Inserting a tape he presses play. You aren’t sure who the artist is, but it's the kind of rock music Hopper claimed was rotting kids' brains. You didn’t mind it. 

The two of you work diligently and in an hour you finish the first coat. Deciding to take a short break before starting the second, Billy retrieves two water bottles from the porch, handing one to you as he takes a seat on the steps. You both sit for a moment, drinking your water as you allow the breeze to cool the sweat that covered your skin. It is strangely peaceful. 

“Can I ask you something and you give me a serious answer?”  Billy’s voice breaks the silence. His question catches you off guard, surprising you. You take a moment to think before responding.

“Only if I can do the same.” You reply. You watch as Billy thinks this over, taking another swig of water before shrugging his shoulders.

“Fair enough, I guess.” he reasons.

“Then shoot.” You say casually. There is a pause before Billy asks his question. Like he’s trying to figure out exactly how to word it.

“I see you walking almost everyday. All over the place. Always someplace different. Sometimes even late at night.” he begins. “Why are you always outside? Are you like… homeless or something?” Your eyes turn to him, expecting it to be a joke but there is no teasing in his tone. Normally you would brush him off, but he had specifically asked for a serious answer. So, you give him one. 

“I was in the hospital for 6 months, earlier this year.” you begin to explain. “A lot of that time was spent in a single room.” you can feel his eyes on you as you study the plastic bottle in your hands. “Ever since I came home I can’t stand being inside. The walls feel like they are smothering me. It makes me feel like I can't breath, like I'm… trapped.” You answer honestly, swallowing past the lump that formed in your throat speaking the truth. “So I spend a lot of time outside, walking. It makes me feel calmer somehow.” you pause, waiting for his response.

“I can understand that.” You hear him mumble. You glance at him, his eyes meeting yours. You see the softness in them that you thought you saw the first time you met him. Billy looks away first, clearing his throat. 

“Alright, what's your question?” he asks gruffly. You realise you hadn’t really thought of one to ask him in return. So, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“What do you miss most about California?” Billy chuckles lightly, the corners of his lips twisting upwards. It’s the closest thing to a genuine smile you had ever seen on him. It contrasted starkly with his normal wolfish grin.

“The sunsets on the ocean.” He answers almost reflexively. His eyes settle on some far away place in the distance as he elaborates. “Being here is like being in a box. Always surrounded by trees, you can never really see the sun go down. But on the ocean…” He pauses, his mind going to a specific memory. “It’s impossible to tell where the water ends and the sky begins. Sometimes it's so bright it looks like the world is on fire.” There is silence between you as you take in his words. You never expected an answer like that from him. You want to ask him more but his expression darkens again as he comes back to reality. Back to Hawkins. 

“Doesn't matter now though.” He states, draining the rest of his water and standing up. “I’m stuck here.” He finishes, tossing the empty bottle aside and picking up his roller again.

You don't press him. You simply pick up your own roller and get back to work. The two of you finish the porch before Neil, Billy’s father, gets back. Neither of you say anything when you finish, you just pick up your bag, sling it over your shoulders and offer Billy a kind smile before turning to walk back down the driveway. 

“I’ll see you around, loca.” Billy calls after you. 

“See ya!” you respond, turning slightly to send him a wave as you walk away. 

You wouldn't see Billy again that summer. He and his father had returned to California to begin moving the rest of their things, now that the house was ready. Or, at least, that’s what you heard around town. 

You didn't have much time to dwell on his absence because the next week, classes began. 

Part 1, ...(Masterlist)... Part 5

A/N: Hope you guys liked it! Let me know what you think, leave a like or a comment! I hope to have the next part posted soon!

Tag-list: @official-starcourt-mall @lem0ns77 @bethii1 @wysteria-arts @fanficfanatic204

[a-strange-inkling]

Character Swap WIP

AU Where Eddie is popular and cursed by Vecna

1. Eddie is an athlete. Goes out for everything from wrestling to basketball, but football is where he really shines. It’s also the one sport he comes out on top over Jason Carver. He plays sports and gets good grades to make his dad proud. He’s been one of the elite since sophomore year. He wants to go to a good school and have a better life than his parents started out with. He has a nice car and a big house, but his home life is tainted by his father’s verbal and physical abuse.

2. Jason and Eddie are best friends, have been since they were kids. Jason’s friendship boosted his social standing during Middle School and Junior High. It wasn’t easy for the quiet, shy kid to break out as a sports star. Eddie’s father came into big money, by questionable means, but he runs the town so nobody brings up his humble beginnings. Jason is competitive and hates sharing the limelight so there is a edge of rivalry to their friendship. Jason has always included him, but kept him in second place where he belongs.

3. Chrissy Cunningham is a social outcast with piercings, dyed hair, and tattoos. She is the first girl to lead the Hellfire Club. All the freshman boys who play practically worship the ground she walks on. Her family used to be a big name when she was in grade school, but when her father filed for bankruptcy, he divorced her mother and left she and her brother with nothing. They lived with her mother for a few years but after getting too handsy with Chrissy one too many times, CPS was called and she and her brother were taken to live with an aunt who lived alone in a trailer park.

4. Eddie knocks her shoulder accidentally in the hall, hard enough to turn them both around to face each other. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs shyly, because her eyes are so blue under all that dark makeup. “It’s okay.” she replies gently. Her voice is like bell chimes. Musical and sweet. It doesn’t match her look at all.

5. “Watch it, little witch!” Jason bites out nastily from beside Eddie. Jason made out with her once in sophomore year and he resents that she has that over him. He goes out of his way to try and make her life a living hell, having always harbored this hateful obsession with her. He gave her the name Chrissy “The Witch” Cunningham.

6. Chrissy backs away, giving an unnerving smile, curling her tongue at Jason, watching in amusement as he squirms in fear and disgust.

7. She sobers and her eyes go a little softer when she turns back to Eddie, who stares at her like he can actually see through her harsh exterior that she wears like an armor. She turns and continues on her way.

8. “Do your self a favor and stay away from her, Munson, trust me.” Jason tells him as they walk away. “She’s into some shady shit, she’ll probably put a hex on you or something.” But Eddie stares after her over his shoulder. He can’t help himself.

9. Eddie remembers her from Middle School, they both competed in the talent show. He played the guitar and she did a cheer routine. She was really good actually, he wonders why she never tried out for cheerleading in highschool. Maybe the same reason he doesn’t play guitar anymore.

10. When the nightmares start, Eddie sees his father… a twisted version of his father. He tells him he’s the reason his mother left them. That he’s the reason she died.

11. “Dude,” Patrick tells him one day after practice, seeing him all pale and clammy. “You’re burning the candle at both ends. You need to unwind.” But, Eddie has no idea how to unwind. “You need to see a witch about some herbs.”

12. “What are you staring at, Munson?” She asks when he finds her in the parking lot, waiting for her ride, cigarette smoldering between her lips. She’s defensive, but her words aren’t unkind. He fumbles nervously. He probably looks like a fish opening and closing his mouth. “You better run along before someone sees you next to me.” She’s actually really pretty. Prettier than the other girls at the school. He wonders why she is in self exile. “I um… heard you’re who to talk to about getting stuff.”

13. “Stuff?” she laughs. “I don’t deal to basketball players.” He laughs back nervously, surprised. “That can’t be good for business.” She shrugs her shoulders, a little flush in her cheeks at the sound of his laugh. “It’s my new policy, you can blame Carver.”

14. “Well, luckily, I’m a football player at present.” He tells her. She looks up at him with a sweet smile, before blowing some smoke in his face playfully. “Same difference.” she says walking off. He follows. “What about Patrick?”

15. “Patrick isn’t an asshole.” she replies like that’s reason enough. “Where the fuck are you, Gareth?” she hisses under her breath, checking her watch. “Someone forget about you?” he asks eagerly. “Do you need a ride?”

16. “No.” she tells him crossing her arms in annoyance. Minutes tick by before she finally relents. “Fine.” He grins, leading her to his black firebird. “What do you need weed for anyway?” she asks. “I just want to relax… I keep… I feel like…” “You’re losing your mind?” she asks. He looks over at her in surprise. “Yeah.”

[cherrycocaineee]

18. Sodapop - A Love All Too Real

*Warning - Smut; spanking, biting, dirty talk, hair pulling, car sex*

“My baby did so well.”

“Cum one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”

*Sodapop’s p.o.v*

   Mickey Mouse was playing loudly throughout the living room, trying to muffle the sounds of the rain beating against the roof. It worked a little, distracting all of us from the brewing storm outside. Two-Bit was sitting next between Steve and I, completely mesmerized by his favorite showing playing on the screen. It wasn’t getting late but most of us were ready to pass out in the spots we sat in; me including, my heavy eyelids sinking each time I blinked. However, we were shaken away when there was a rapid banging noise on the door. I pushed myself up off the cushion and peered towards the closed door like all the others, wondering who could possibly be standing outside in this weather. The knocking came again, except this time with a voice behind it.

  “Seriously guys! Who else would be knocking at your damn door right now?!”

  It was Anni.

   Ponyboy hopped off the floor, leaving Johnny sitting there alone, and opened the front door quickly. Anni was standing there, her hand over her left eye, soaking wet from the rain fall. She glared at him.

  “Took you long enough,” she grumbled.

 “Sorry Anni,” he said, “we expected you to be at home.”

  “I was at home. I got kicked out.”

  When she stepped into the house, the multiple bruises on her skin, fresh blood was collected on her skin and clothes, and when she removed her hand from her eye you could see how bad it really was. Her eye was black and purple, and I could see that some of the blood vessels in her eye were popped due to the red color collecting in her eye.

  “Holy shit,” Two-Bit muttered, his eyes staying off the television now.

 No one cared about Mickey Mouse playing anymore, or how tired they were. We only cared about Anni.

She placed her bag down by the door as she passed Ponyboy, who was still in shock that he couldn’t even move to close the door. Steve did it for him, not wanting rain to get inside the house or on him.

  “Anni,” Darry said, standing in front of her, “this is the third time this week.”

  She looked at all of us before turning back to Darry, the unfazed look on her face never wavering, as she shrugged.

  “So?” She muttered.

 “So,” he continued, “you can’t keep livin’ like this.”

  Anni waved her hand in front of her, rather annoyed that she had to hear this again. Anytime she came over covered in bruises, Darry or one of us would tell her she couldn’t live with her dad again. It was always met with the same unfazed look on her face along with a light shrug of the shoulders. Anni crossed her arm over her chest; I noticed that she didn’t even wince. She was so use to the constant abuse and beatings that they didn’t even hurt her physically anymore.

   “Why not?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

 “Anni, you do realize that your eyeball is red right? Like the blood vessels in your eye have busted?” Dally inquired, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

 “Well yeah, I’m going to clean myself up and wait for it to heal like always.”

   “But what we’re sayin’,” I said, standing from my spot, “you don’t deserve to be beaten every time you go home. You deserved to be cared for and go to sleep safely.”

  Once more, I noticed that the unfazed look in her eyes never wavered. She was so numbed to the abuse it didn’t seem wrong anymore. Instead, she turned away from all of us, facing the open bathroom ready to head inside so she could avoid the problem.

  “Doesn’t matter to me. Lots of things shouldn’t happen but they do. People take what they want from me whenever they please; the want sex, they don’t have to ask they just take, if every night someone wants to beat the hell out of me so that they feel better then so be it. I’m nothing more than a toy; a disposable piece of shit that people tend to keep around until they’re done using me.”

  With those final words, she walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. My heart broke into hundreds of pieces after hearing her say those words. Anni wasn’t a bad person, she just never knew what it felt like to be loved and cherished. All I wanted to do was love and cherish her. To lay beside her at night and hold her. To pepper her face with dozens of kisses while caressing her small form. To just show her what it felt to be cared about instead of used. But she was so brainwashed into thinking she didn’t matter, that she was nothing more than a throwaway doll, that she couldn’t see it.

  Ponyboy wrapped his arms around him.

 “We can’t keep lettin’ her live there, Darry,” he said.

 “I know that, Pony, but unless she wants to leave there isn’t anythin’ we can do,” Darry said, “I’m goin’ to go make her somethin’ to eat.”

  That was a normal routine when Anni came over all beaten up. She normally wouldn’t have eaten for two days before the beating. I had asked her why she didn’t eat two days in advance and she told me that it helped her not throw up when her dad kicked her in the stomach. Once more breaking my heart as I heard her tell me that she could anticipate when the beating was coming and how to make it hurt less.

 I followed Darry into the kitchen, Steve and Ponyboy trailing behind me. He was already getting all of the sandwich stuff out, dinner having been served a while ago and with all of us here, there were no leftovers. I grabbed the mustard off the table and watched Pony take out some bread before spreading the yellow condiment on her sandwich. We worked in silence, not sure what we could say to one another. Darry was right; unless Anni wanted to leave her parents, to have a better life, there wasn’t much we could do.

   As soon as we finished making her sandwich, and Steve added half a pickle to the plate, Anni came walking in while drying her hair with the towel. She was wrapped in nothing but a towel. In the kitchen light I could see her bruises more prominent.

  “Soda, can I borrow some clothes?” She inquired.

 “Sure thing, doll,” I said, rinsing my hands off and following her to my room.

   I opened the drawer and took out a pair of gray sweatpants and a black wife beater that revealed a lot on the side. It was something I wore around the house when it was hot.

  “You know, Pony has clothes that might fit you better,” I joked.

 “Yeah, probably,” she laughed, “but they aren’t as comfortable as yours.”

  I handed the clothes to her, looking at her beaten up face. I frowned.

 “Does it hurt?” I whispered.

 “No more than it normally does,” she shrugged, “can you close the door on your way out? Please, and thank you.”

  Nodding my head, I left the room and closed the door behind me. Anni came out five minutes after wearing the sweats and wife beater I’d given her. It was much bigger on her than I’d expected, revealing all of her sides and if she moved her arms a certain way you could see the side of her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra, not that she needed one because her breasts were small and perky.

  A lump formed in my throat as I watched her. I had to force myself to look away. She plopped down on the recliner, throwing her legs over the arm of the chair as Darry walked in with her sandwich. He handed it to her and smiled.

 “Eat up, kid,” he said.

 “Thank you,” she said, smiling back.

Soon the rain went away; Darry had gone to sleep an hour ago, having to get up for work in the morning. Pony had fallen asleep on the floor beside Johnny, Dally left with Two-Bit to a party that was close by, and Steve was sprawled out beside me completely knocked out. His mouth was partially opened which made me laugh a little.

  Anni was still awake. She walked over to me, her arms folded over her chest.

  “Want to come outside with me?” She asked, “I need to smoke.”

 “Sure, come on,” I said, standing up carefully not to wake Steve or the others.

  I closed the door behind us and she shivered. The rain had made the air incredibly cold, and she was hardly wearing anything. Her pale skin glowed in the darkness, and in the small, illuminating porch light, I noticed that her nipples were erected.

 “Come on,” I said, leading her to Darry’s truck.

  We climbed into the backseat. I reached to the front and grabbed the spare keys underneath the visors. I turned the truck on and let the heater kick in so we could warm up. Anni was digging through her bag, removing a lighter and a container out. I watched her open the container and take out a joint. Anni didn’t smoke cigarettes, couldn’t stand the taste, but she did smoke weed and I was pretty sure it was because it numbed her from everything. I watched her light her joint and hit it, a cloud of smoke releasing from her perfect, soft, pink lips. The smell of weed collecting in the car and I knew I was going to have to air it out before we went in. Darry had the nose of a hound.

  She looked over at me and held out the joint, “want some?”

  “No thanks, doll,” I smiled.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she continued to smoke the joint. Her unwounded eye turned hazy and became a bit red. With each puff, she was getting higher and higher; this obviously not being the first time she smoked tonight. She slouched down in her seat, the shirt riding up a little bit. I guess I’d been staring too long because she faced me and raised her eyebrow.

  “Why do you keep staring at me like that?” She questioned.

 “Just takin’ in all of your wounds,” I whispered, half lying.

  She let her eyes land on the bruises decorating her arm before dropping it and taking another hit of her joint.

  “You know, I’m use to it but they still hurt like hell.”

  “You shouldn’t be use to it,” I muttered, “I hate seein’ you like this, Anni.”

  Anni put out her smoke, putting it back in her purse and folding her arms, “why?”

  “Because I care about you. Every time I see you all bruised up like this, it pisses me off. I swear if I ever see your dad-”

  “You’ll do nothing.”

  Our eyes met; hers cold, and distant, mine shocked, and sad.

  “If you do something it’ll only make it worse. I’ll just get beaten ten times worse than the last. He’ll do everything in his power to prove he’s got total control over me, and he’s right.”

  I reached over and touched her shoulder. She flinched a bit but I didn’t pull away; her skin was cool to the touch, the heater barely keeping her warm. Anni sighed.

 “It’s just how it is, Soda. Leave it be.”

  “How can I do that?” I asked, “you don’t deserve it.”

 “Because I’m not important, Soda!” She snapped, “if I left today, all of you would stop thinking about me! If I died tomorrow, you’d forget me as soon as you saw the next girl walk by! I’m replaceable! A nobody! Unloved!”

 “You aren’t unloved!” I yelled back, “and maybe to your shitty dad you're replaceable, but to me you’re irreplaceable! You’re so fucked up in the head, you don’t even know what love is because they’ve got you all messed up.”

  “So?! What do you want me to do about it!”

 “Let me show you what it’s like to be loved, Anni.”

  She started nibbling on her lip as I got closer to her. She didn’t move away from me though, as I leaned in closer and closer. The air between us almost felt thin, I could hardly breathe. I could see her chest moving up and down fast. Was she nervous? Scared? I couldn’t tell. My forehead pressed against hers.

  “I’ll stop if you want,” I whispered, “I’d never do somethin’ to you that you aren’t comfortable with.”

  It took her a moment to answer and when she was capable of doing so, it came out as more of a hushed whisper.

 “I’m fine,” her voice croaked, “you can continue.”

She was definitely nervous. My words, along with my actions, had her flustered and confused.

Nodding my head, I pressed my lips against hers. Her lips were just as soft as I’d imagined them to be. When I pulled away, it was only for a second, going back into and kissing her deeply once again, this time more passionately. I softly pushed her back, keeping my lips on hers, and crawled between her legs. Her hands reached up and wrapped around my neck, her fingers tangling themselves into my hair. A soft groan left my lips as I felt her fingers tug gently.

   I pulled away from her, a small amount of saliva pulling from our lips. Her eyes were hazy with lust and confusion.

  “I’ve got you, doll,” I whispered, “I promise.”

  She nodded her head. Leaning back down, I attached my lips to her neck and started leaving wet, open mouthed kisses along the nape. Softly sucking and nibbling on her flesh, I felt my cock harden at the sound of her breathy moans. A sound that I wanted to be familiar with forever. I bit down on her neck and she gasped, jolting forward, her chest pressing against mine. Her nipples were still hard. I swirled my tongue around the spot I bit down on before biting down on a different spot, repeating the process.

  “Soda,” she whimpered.

  It was the first time I’ve heard her sound so vulnerable.

  “That’s a good girl,” I praised, returning my attention to her face.

  The black eye didn’t bother me, neither did the blood in her eye. She was as beautiful as she always was.

  I grabbed the rim of my shirt and pulled it off, revealing my tanned chest. Her eyes lingered a little lower, her teeth biting her bottom lip while she scanned over my body. I chuckled then reached for her shirt. She lifted her arms letting me pull the shirt over her head, revealing her exposed, bruised flesh. I groaned at the mere sight of her breasts. They were perfect; like beautiful clouds. I barely licked one of the hardened nipples and her back arched, eyes rolling to the back of her head. I captured her lips with mine once again, this time kissing her hungrily.

  I pulled her off the seat and into my lap, breathing heavily as I started kissing down her neck again, tracing the purple hickeys I had left. My hands fumbled with my zipper first, my cock aching to be released from their restraints. Not bothering to lift her off of me, I lifted myself off the seat a bit and pulled my jeans down. Anni wrapped her arms around me, tugging my hair a bit as she kissed me hard. I grabbed the sweats she was wearing and dragged them down, my hands grazing her bare skin causing her to shiver. I loved watching her shiver after I touched her. It didn’t happen often with Anni, she hardly ever reacted to anyone touching her, so to see, to feel, her shake from my touch sent a rush of pride through me.

  Anni lifted herself off of my lap as I pulled her sweats all the way off. She was completely naked in front of me now.

  “God damnit, Anni,” I groaned, “so fucking beautiful.”

 A soft laugh left her lips as she watched me pull my boxers down finally releasing my growing member. There was no need to wait any longer, no need for foreplay, no need for me to poke and prod to make sure she was okay. We were both ready as if we'd been waiting for years. I lined myself up with her and pushed her down onto me, groaning at the feeling of her tight walls gripping me. Anni buried her head into my shoulder and moaned softly at the feeling of me filling her up. Only a second passed before I started thrusting my hips back and forth, our skin slapping against each other’s. Small pants were leaving her mouth as she gripped my shoulders tightly, keeping herself upright despite being drilled into. Even though I wasn’t going too fast right now, the position allowed me to bury myself deep into her sweet little cunt.

   “Holy fuck,” I moaned, “that’s it baby.”

  My pace quickened as she started bouncing herself up and down; the truck started to rock a bit at the movement happening inside but we didn’t care. Anni’s moans became more erotic and lewd; she sounded almost angelic and I loved that I was the one making her feel this way. Her head fell back as she continued to ride my cock, meeting each thrust coming from me. I moved my left hand up to the back of her head and pulled her hair a little, just enough to get her to face me. I didn’t want to hurt her. She moaned at the feeling of me pulling her hair.

  “Fuck, Anni, you sound so beautiful,” I groaned, pulling her closer by her hair so that our foreheads could meet, “such a beautiful girl for me, huh?”

  She could only nod, her body shivering.

  “Soda, I’m close,” she whimpered out.

  “Let it go, baby,” I moaned, “I’ve got you.”

 Those words with the quickening pace of our thrust sent Anni into euphoria. She screamed out, her legs violently shaking as she came all over my cock. I held her in place; one hand gripping her side while the other stayed tangled in her hair. I removed my hand from her back and smacked her perfectly, plump, sweaty ass. She yelped, rocking her hips into mine causing me to groan. Giving her ass a few more smacks, enough to pleasure her, I turned us over so that I was on top of her. My eyes danced across her sweaty body. I started pouring kisses onto her face and mumbling soft “I love you’s” as I continued to thrust into her faster.

  “Soda,” she moaned, “I can’t.”

  “Shh,” I whispered, holding back a string of curse words, feeling her walls tighten around me, “you can do it baby. Come on.”

   I slammed into her repeatedly; removing my cock all the way at the tip and then slamming back into her. Her eyes rolled back as her hips arched. I could feel myself getting closer to my climax as I watched her, feeling her dripping cunt swallow me over and over again.

  “Cum one more time for me,” I cooed, “I know you’ve got it in you.”

 Anni couldn’t form any more words, all she could do was nod her head and let me coax her with my sweet words. Soon her body spasmed again and her legs shook harshly. Her screams rippled through the air, but I didn’t bother covering her mouth to hide them. I didn’t care if people heard and I didn’t care if that caused people to come over to see what was happening; all I wanted was to be focused on Anni.

  “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” I croaked.

  My thrust becoming sloppier, I watched her body go limp as pools of sweat collected on her chest. I thrusted into her three more times before spilling my cum into her fleshy, pink walls. Coating every inch.

  “Fuck!” I yelled, “oh my God, fuck!”

  I stopped moving, unable to ride out my high for too long. Anni was panting hard. I pulled myself out of her and brought her to my chest. Rubbing soft circles onto her bruised back as she gasped for air.

  “I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”

   When Anni finally did catch her breath, she rested her head against my bare, sweaty chest. A tired smile appeared on my face as I watched her look up at me.

  “My baby did so well,” I praised again.

  We stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like a lifetime. Her glistening skin glowed in the moonlight, the cool air chapping her dry lips making her lick them repeatedly, her breast heaving up and down as she took in large amounts of air. Her black hair was not sweaty and clinging to her beautiful face. I reached my hand down and stroked the bruise on her cheek.

  “I love you, Anni,” I whispered, “so fuckin’ much. You’ll never be replaceable to me. I only want you.”

  Anni chuckled and closed her eyes, she was definitely sleepy.

  “I’ll hold you to that, Soda. If you love me, maybe I can let myself love you too. It may take a while but I’ll do it for you.”

  Grabbing the blanket that Darry normally kept inside his truck, I draped it over us and sighed. She buried her head into my chest and let her heavy eyes close. The sound of my heart lulling her to sleep.

  “No matter how long it takes,” I said, “I’ll wait for you. I’ll help you love again because you deserve it. That and the world.”

   The sudden realization of Darry coming out in the morning to see us asleep, naked in his car with the lingering smell of sex, hit me. A low chuckle escaped from my lips. I knew I was gonna hear it in the morning, but right now, I didn’t care. It felt like it was just Anni and I, all alone. That’s what I wanted.

[eddiesmile]

Why Him? - E.M

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N considers herself to be Max Mayfield's elder sister, especially after the loss of Billy Hargrove. Y/N takes it upon herself to stay home with Max whenever Susan is busy, and comes across Eddie Munson.

He moved his calloused hand to cup my cheek, the smoke from his cigarette wafting between us. It made his eyes shine. "You are my reason. My reason to get up in the morning, my reason to change, my reason for everything. I love you Y/N,". His eyes watered, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into the skin of my cheek. We stayed still, staring into each others eyes until his cigarette burnt out.

"It's time for me to go," He murmured, his voice small. He lent forward, pressing his pink lips against my forehead, letting his tears fall freely. "I'm sorry,". And he was gone.

I opened my eyes, meeting the harsh sunlight streaming through my curtains. The calendar he had given to me, stared back, his smile immortalised on the paper. It had taken me months to convince him to try something new, and when he gave in, he admitted that he felt more confident to change for the better. Until he died.

I mumbled a good morning to him, kicking away the blankets, sitting up. His leather jacket was slung over the end of my bed, where it always sat. The keys to his car were on my desk, neatly placed against his packet of cigarettes.

I sat up, staring at all of his belongings for a considerable amount of time before getting up properly, and dragging myself down to the kitchen. Things had all gone to shit months ago, Monsters were real, one had possessed Billy and in the end, killed him.

I checked the notepad in the kitchen as I placed a cigarette in my mouth, knowing that Billy would be throwing a fit wherever he was.

"Promise me Y/N, you will never touch one of these," Billy said, waving a cigarette in my face.

"I promise Billy,"

Movie day with Max, the notepad read. Movie days had become our way to spend time with each other, without feeling the usual pressure from society. And we both thoroughly enjoyed it, whether holed up in the tiny trailer, or my dingy cabin.

I dialled the trailer number, knowing I'd probably be waking up Max.

"What?" Max hissed into the phone.

"It's movie day, do you want to hire some movies, or we can borrow some from Dustin,"

"Hire some, I'll get dressed now,"

I chuckled into the phone, putting it down as the line went dead. I lit the cigarette, walking back to my room to grab his car keys. I didn't have the heart to call his stuff mine, because it wasn't really mine, it was still his, regardless of his mortality.

The drive to the trailer park was boring. There is nothing to look at in Hawkins, unless you count the middle aged men mowing their lawns on a Sunday morning, but I didn't. Billy's car rumbled as I pulled into the trailer park, making the birds loitering, scatter. Max was already waiting out the front, speaking to a guy that had wild hair.

She stepped up the window, pointing her hand behind her. "Is it okay if we drop Eddie off in town?"

I nodded, eyeing him up. He cautiously stepped towards the car, climbing in behind Max. It was a tight squeeze with us all in the front seat, but we made it manage.

"You've been smoking again," Max commented, poking my side.

"No such thing,"

"Eddie, does Y/N smell like cigarettes?"

I heard Eddie clear his throat, and the clinking of what I could assume to be him tapping his rings together.

"Yes, but I was smoking earlier too so it could be me," He answered, earning a huff from Max.

The rest of the drive continued in silence, Max and Eddie climbing out of the car the second we came to a stop. I followed behind them, tugging on Eddie's sleeve as he turned to walk into the local grocery store. I waved Max on, watching as she greeted Robin.

"Thank you for covering for me," I said, properly looking at Eddie.

He gave me a tight-lipped smile, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Not a problem Y/N,"

I reached into Billy's jacket, pulling out the deck of cigarettes, offering one of the last two to Eddie. He looked down, and carefully plucked both out, passing one to me. I lit his cigarette, and mine, relishing in the feeling it gave me as I inhaled.

"Why Billy?" Eddie asked, leaning against the Camaro.

"He was the first person to make me feel good about being me," I answered, pausing to tap away the ash on the cigarette. "That's why I followed them all the way from California. I couldn't live without the person who encouraged me, even as bad as he was, but he was working on that. And now we're here,"

"I'm still stuck in Hawkins High, but if you ever need a friend you know where I am," Eddie responded, holding out his hand.

With the cigarette hanging between his lips, jeans and overall stature he reminded me of Billy. I shook it gently, watching as he walked into the store.

Billy would most definitely be rolling in his grave if he knew I was interacting with Eddie Munson.

EDDIE MUNSON TAGLIST: (OPEN)

@babyhoneync @eddies-bat-tattoos

@strangerthanfanfiction713 @voldieshorts

@themuppyshow @ghoulsgraveyard

@bookfrog242

[seijorhi]

Inexorable ♕

My birthday present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy​ and my contribution to her birthday bash collab you can find here. I love you, you’re incredible and I hope you like this i even wrote smut for you smh

Iwaizumi Hajime x female reader

tw: dub-con, stalking, unhealthy relationships, very questionable decision making, smut, nsfw, um... implied murder?

He’s sitting on the steps outside your apartment when you get home from work, a lit cigarette dangling between long fingers. He brings it to his lips, the bright cherry red tip glowing as he takes a nice, slow drag and you scurry on past.

Not a word passes between the two of you, but olive eyes follow you up the stairs regardless, just like always. His name is Iwaizumi – Iwa – but you only know that because you’ve heard his friends yelling it down the hallway. In the three months since you’ve moved in, you haven’t so much as introduced yourself to the guy, but like most strangers crammed into the same shitty place there’s some kind of a routine between the two of you.

Why he religiously chooses this time of night to take his smoke break is beyond you, but like clockwork you’ll arrive home, having walked back from the bus stop and Iwaizumi’ll be there waiting for you, cigarette in hand.

Well, not waiting, just… there. Black leather jacket with a hoodie underneath, there’s a cut above his eyebrow tonight that he hasn’t bothered to clean, a purpling bruise colouring his jaw. Whatever dealings Iwaizumi’s tangled up in, you don’t like to think about too much, but you know it can’t be anything good. His friends dress like him, all have the same ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe. You’ve seen their scrapes and bruises too – the weapons that stick out from the waistband of their pants – though you’re always quick to avert your eyes when they catch you staring.

You’ve heard them snickering about it when you hastily dart past, all but slamming your front door shut. 

And it’s not that you’re scared of him. There are people who play at being dangerous, and ones who are. Iwaizumi doesn’t strike you as somebody who enjoys playing, and while you don’t doubt for a second that he is dangerous, he isn’t to you. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt or scare you – you’re not even a blip on his radar – but what Iwaizumi is, at least as far as you’re concerned, the reason your step quickens and you can’t bear to meet his eyes, is intimidating.

Tall and broad shouldered, with those piercing green eyes. You’ve only seen him smile once, though it was more a quirking of his lips than anything else – usually he just stares, his expression halfway between impassive boredom and a scowl. 

No, Iwaizumi doesn’t scare you nearly as much as the bouquet of flowers you find sitting on your doorstep, a handwritten note tucked in between the roses.

—

The calls come next. You block one number and he rings from another, followed by endless texts. Cute little messages you suppose are meant to brighten up your day. 

Hi baby, love the skirt you’re wearing today. You know blue’s my favourite on you, always look so damn pretty. It’s like you’re trying to drive me crazy haha

Morning babe, I was thinking about you last night. You remember that trip we always said we were gonna take in the summer down to the lake? I can’t wait to bring you there.

Why won’t you answer my calls? I just wanna talk to you, hear your voice again. Let me make things right. I love you.

Don’t you miss me? I miss you. So, so much… You look beautiful today, by the way.

Baby, I love you, but you really shouldn’t be staying out so late with your coworkers for drinks. I just want you to be safe.

They’re not all soft and sweet though. Sometimes he just sends you pictures, and those creep you out most of all.

You change your number, and it doesn’t make a difference.

—

It’s hard for you to try and convince yourself that you’re imagining the prickling sensation on the back of your neck as you go about your day. You know he’s watching you – the messages and the voicemails just drive that home, but what else are you supposed to do?

You can’t just pack up and run again, and what good is a restraining order when you have no proof he’s violating it – and by the time you do, it probably won’t help you.

Kazuma’s always had patience, but only up to a point.

The final nail comes the day you arrive home to find one of Iwa’s friends heading out from his apartment – the tallest, with the curly dark hair. Barely spares you a glance until he seems to think better of it.

“Didn’t realise you had a boyfriend, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, but the words make you falter, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

And for a moment, he looks half surprised that you’ve bothered to reply – so far you’ve done nothing but pretend to ignore him and Iwa and every last one of their friends. But the mirth slips from his expression quickly enough once he gets a good look at yours, “Blonde guy with a shitty dye job, tall-ish. Saw him leaving your apartment an hour ago.” 

But to walk out of your apartment, he had to have first gotten into it.

“Guessing he wasn’t your boyfriend then,” he says, eyeing you with an odd look. But you don’t respond and after a short pause, he simply shrugs and continues on his way. 

You couldn’t care less.

Kazuma was in your apartment.

Leaving flowers at your doorstep is one thing, but now he has a key. 

And it feels like there’s somebody else moving your body as you stumble towards your apartment, your hand shaking so badly that you fumble and drop your own keys twice before you finally manage to slide them home and push your way inside.

It’s waiting for you inside your bedroom, sitting atop your pillow; a pretty blue box wrapped with white ribbon.

Your phone flashes to life a minute later; an incoming message from an unknown number. 

Did you like your present, baby?? I hope you don’t mind, I kinda borrowed a little something too… 

With your heart in your throat you watch those three bouncing dots as the image comes through. 

A pair of red lace panties – yours – scrunched up in his fist, wrapped around his–

Your stomach heaves, and you barely make it to the bathroom in time before you’re hurling your guts up.

—

You’ve always had an impulsive side, and more often than not it’s landed you into trouble.

So you force yourself to calm down and think before you do anything rash. You head to the police station the very next morning to file a report, fresh off a sleepless night. The officer seems sympathetic, but you know before she even opens her mouth that there’s nothing they can do.

There’s no proof of a crime committed; nothing was taken (nothing you can prove, at any rate) and because your door wasn’t tampered with and the windows weren’t smashed, there’s no evidence of a break in. She suggests changing your locks and going to stay with some friends or family for a few days and you don’t know whether you want to laugh or burst into tears.

And instead of going back to work, you call in sick.

Iwaizumi isn’t sitting on the front steps when you get back home, and why would he be? You’re not supposed to be home for another few hours – so instead you head to his apartment door and mustering every last ounce of courage you possess, you raise your fist and knock.

Silence greets you. 

You wait for a moment, a heartbeat, not daring to breathe, but there’s no answer. Which, really, shouldn’t be that surprising considering it’s mid-morning on a Tuesday, but you can’t help the crushing sense of disappointment that washes over you. The thought of trudging back to your apartment to sit and stew alone for the next few hours while you wait for him to come back makes your skin crawl. You can’t just sit still and twiddle your thumbs, not when–

Abruptly, the door in front of you swings open, and you find yourself face to face with a glaring Iwaizumi. His expression falters, momentary surprise flickering across his eyes at the sight of you standing in his doorway.

This time you don’t avert your eyes. Your heart’s pounding, your hands clammy and trembling by your side, but this is the only choice you have left. And so as a single eyebrow cocks and Iwa falls into a lean against the doorframe – the only invitation you’re gonna get – you steel your nerves, take a deep breath, and speak.

“I-I need a gun.”

To his credit, Iwaizumi doesn’t snort. “You planning on shooting somebody, princess?”

They’re the first words he’s ever spoken to you, and they make your cheeks burn, your stomach twisting into a knot. It’s not a dismissal, but there’s a tinge of amusement colouring his tone and you can’t help but wilt a little under the weight of his gaze. 

Better sense would tell you to turn around, walk back to your apartment and curse your own idiocy for entertaining this stupid idea to begin with But Iwaizumi’s staring at you like he’s expecting an answer and all you can think about is the fear that gripped your heart last night, how you couldn’t bear to turn the light off, half terrified that at any moment Kazuma would come back – and this time he wouldn’t be satisfied with just some panties.

You can’t live like this, and you can’t just pack up your life and wait for the same thing to happen in the next place, and the one after that. Kazuma won’t stop, you know that. 

“I…” you chew on your bottom lip, dropping your gaze so that you’re staring at his chest instead of those piercing green eyes. “I don’t, I-I’m not–”

“A killer?” he interjects, and you almost flinch at his bluntness“Yeah, no shit.”

Taking another breath in through your nose, you force yourself to meet his gaze, even as your nails bite into the palm of your hand and your heart skips a beat. “I just want…” but you can’t even bear to say the words aloud, not without your voice shaking like a leaf. “It’s for protection. I don’t know who else to go to. Please,” you beg.

Iwa exhales heavily, a crinkle appearing between his brows as he frowns, “This got anything to do with the blonde asshole that’s been sniffing ‘round your place?”

Your bewilderment must show, because he snorts, finally stepping back to let you inside. “Mattsun told me,” he says, answering your unspoken question. 

The unmistakably hard edge to his words takes you a little by surprise, but you nod anyway, gingerly taking a seat on the couch when he jerks his chin at it. “Oh, uh, yeah. He’s my ex, kinda. We… didn’t end well.”

It’s the understatement of the century, but you somehow doubt a man like Iwaizumi gives two shits about your past relationship with a stalker. Your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as the imposing man settles down beside you. “So does this mean you’ll get me a gun?” you ask. “I can pay you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have some money–”

Iwa scoffs, cutting you off. “If you think I’m letting you anywhere near a loaded gun, pretty girl, you’re dumber than I gave you credit for.”

You reel back as if he’s slapped you. But Iwaizumi’s staring at you with that steely expression and blood rushes to your cheeks. Why are you surprised? Did you actually think he was going to help you – a veritable stranger – just because you have some sob story? Why even bother letting you in if he was just gonna make you feel like an idiot? And for a moment you forget the gnawing terror that’s kept you up all night, letting yourself become awash with indignation. You have no control over the hurt noise that leaves your throat, but the ‘Fuck you’ that follows; that one’s intentional.

You don’t have time to regret the insult as you jump to your feet; his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist, jerking you to a halt the moment you try it. 

“I didn’t say you could go,” he tells you, and you can’t fight the shiver that rolls down your spine at the unmistakably commanding tone. “Sit.”

Wordlessly, you comply.

“Look at me.”

Again, there’s that harsh undercurrent in his voice that tells you he’s not asking, and you lift your gaze with a tense swallow. Iwa still hasn’t released your wrist, the warmth of his calloused palm searing against your skin. 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, olive eyes studying your face intently as you force yourself to sit still under the appraisal. “I said that I wasn’t going to give you a gun, not that I wasn’t going to help.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, “What–”

“I’ll take care of it,” he snaps, cutting you off once again. And as you inhale sharply, you realise that it’s not anger you see burning in those pretty eyes, but sheer, unrelenting fury, an icy rage that you don’t understand, that terrifies you as much as it enthrals.

Because you feel like it’s on purpose. Like he’s finally letting you get a glimpse of what silently seethes beneath that impassive mask of his. Are you scared now, sweetheart?

“H-how much?” you ask breathlessly, eyes wide and heart pounding. 

“I don’t want your money,” he says quietly, his voice low and husky. And just in case there was any confusion as to what he does want, his other hand comes up to your face, a broad thumb tracing along your bottom lip as he cups your cheek.

Iwaizumi leans in slowly, as if he’s giving you time to shove him away and tell him that you’re not that kind of girl. Part of you – the part that’s terrified, frozen stiff and regretting the very moment you decided to step into his apartment and cross that line – wants to. Even now, as those hooded olive eyes drink you in, his warm breath ghosting across your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake, you’re afraid that it’s too late for that. You’ve opened a door that should never have been opened and there’s been a fundamental shift between you and him. There’s no going back for either one of you.

And the other part of you revels in it.

“Don’t kill him,” you murmur the second before his lips meet yours. “Not unless you have to.” You don’t even know if he heard you, and as Iwa deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours you find that you don’t care. You lose yourself to Iwaizumi as he leans closer, gently pushing you to lie back on the couch.

He isn’t satisfied with just your lips for long, planting hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, sucking on the sensitive flesh. His teeth nip at your collarbone as he busies himself unbuttoning your shirt, but your gasp sounds more like a needy whine than a plea for him to stop. 

He laughs a little at that, his chest rumbling against your stomach, but he makes no moves to slow down. Instead he turns his attention to your bra, his hands far less gentle with the delicate lace than he was with your shirt, and then his mouth is on your tits, licking, sucking, biting. Tomorrow, your skin will be littered with pretty red and purple marks, and judging from the single minded focus glinting in his eyes as he stares up at you, that’s exactly his intention. Iwa drags the flat of his tongue along the swell of your breast, circling it around your nipple before he sucks it into the wet warmth of his mouth, and the whimpering moan you give him in response is a thing of beauty. 

“Good girl,” he croons. “Such pretty, perfect tits.”

Your back arches when he cups the other in his hand, and you cry out when he roughly tugs the sensitive bud. He waits until the sting fades and you relax, sagging back against the cushions with relief before he does it again, harder this time. The sharp, searing pain ripples through you, your breath seizing in your chest as you try in vain to writhe away from his touch, but it’s followed by a flood of pleasure so strong it almost makes you dizzy. The fleeting kiss Iwa bestows on the supple flesh a moment later could almost be taken as an apology – if not from the satisfied smirk curling at his lips. He has no desire to be gentle with you, not today or any other day. That’s not who he is. 

Large hands ease down your side, reaching for the hem of your skirt. Iwa doesn’t bother trying to pull it off of you, merely flips it up, exposing your soft thighs and the delicate panties lying underneath. 

In an attempt to be helpful, you lift your hips to allow him to drag the lacy scrap of fabric down your legs and discard it, but Iwaizumi seems perfectly content with leaving them where they are. Even so, it takes you by surprise when his mouth descends on your cunt, the wet, pink muscle laving along the seat of your panties. You shiver in response, one hand instinctively reaching out to tangle in those spiky brunette locks, but if you’re about to tell him to stop teasing, the words are robbed from you when Iwa pushes the fabric aside and buries his face in the heat of your pussy.

His nose nudges at your clit and you jerk at the first lap at your folds, already shamefully wet for him. There’s no rhythm or rhyme to the way he eats you out, letting a long, thick finger slide into your cunt while he suckles and licks at your clit, but you can’t deny that it’s working. Your thighs tremble and quake beneath his hands, every second of his attention dragging you closer to unravelling entirely. And you’re awash with pleas, little whimpers and moans as he chuckles, the low vibrations making your fingers tighten in his hair as another burst of pleasure flutters through you. Your hips rise and fall against his face, desperate for more when he finally slides his tongue inside of your heat, eager to taste your cunt properly. You want more, you’re desperate and aching for it; but Iwaizumi’s grip tighten bruisingly against your thigh in warning. 

You’re at his mercy, and he’s in absolutely no hurry.

The first time you cum, it takes you by surprise. It feels like an endless build-up, Iwa’s tongue lapping at your pussy like it’s heaven sent, his mouth working diligently to drive you insane. Every touch feels unbearably good, from the long, slow strokes to the way he drags the tip of his tongue along your clit. Your toes are curling, your tits heaving with the desperate breaths you choke down, and all of a sudden his mouth latches onto your clitoris and he sucks hard at the swollen nub. You almost black out right there and then, stars bursting behind closed lids as pleasure wreaks havoc over your body. But as good as that feels, it’s not until you open your eyes and catch sight of the hunger blazing in Iwaizumi’s eyes that you tip over the edge, cumming into his waiting mouth with an earth shattering moan. 

At some point he must have let you go to rid himself of his own clothes, and your panties, but you’re boneless, basking in the afterglow as he shifts you once more, lifting one of your thighs up to hook your leg over his shoulder as he settles back onto the couch.

You just watch through hazy eyes as Iwaizumi gives his thick cock, already hard and flushed an angry red, a few cursory pumps. And his eyes are fixed on yours as he leans down, guiding the tip to your sopping cunt. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this, princess,” he grunts out. 

Warning bells sound in your head once more, your gut clenching uneasily, but any protests you might have voiced fall by the wayside as he slowly presses into you. It’s the girth, more than anything else, that takes you by surprise. It hurts, stretching out your poor, oversensitive cunt as his cock fills you up, inch by agonising inch. 

Iwa hisses from between clenched teeth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to breathe through the pain. It won’t last long, you know that, and until it does you just have to grin and bear it.

You can feel it twitching inside of you, every ridge and vein, the way your slick walls hug his cock. His thumb strokes along your hip, soothing you as your face screws up and another whimper slips out. You think you hear him say something, praise maybe, or encouragement, but all you can focus on is the way his cock throbs inside your pussy when he finally bottoms out and stills.

And for a moment, he doesn’t move. A small kindness, letting you become adjusted to his size before he fucks you the way he’s dying to. 

“Look at me,” he says, and while his tone isn’t as sharp this time, it’s no less of an order.

Your eyes flutter open as Iwaizumi turns his head just a fraction without breaking eye contact, pressing a soft kiss against your calf. His eyes are glazed with feverish lust, pupils blown wide, almost swallowing up that thin ring of olive green entirely, and you wonder whether you should feel afraid right now.

You don’t have the words to describe it, the distant unease that seeps through you as you stare into the eyes of a man who’s clearly not in control anymore. If you screamed right now, tried to fight back or stop him, would it make a difference? 

Do you actually want to?

“You’re mine,” he growls out, drawing his hips back and slamming them forward ruthlessly as you choke on a scream. 

He’s relentless, hissing out curses as he fucks you like a rag doll, filling your wet, tight little cunt again and again and again. It’s all you can do to fist at the edge of the cushion, one hand wrapping around his back, your nails raking down his skin, drawing blood in their wake.

And Iwa doesn’t care, tossing his head back as he pounds his cock into your needy cunt, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “Iwa,” you plead between gasping breaths, clinging to his broad frame. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, not as he grabs you by the hips and lifts you up, hauling you closer so he can fuck you deeper. And you can feel his cockhead rutting against your cervix with every vicious thrust, the painful stretch of your cunt as you’re forced to take his fat cock. It hurts, it does, but holy fuck you can’t focus on that when his fingers slip between your legs and he starts to rub at your puffy, oversensitive clit.

You’re whining, mewling, hips shifting as you rock against him, desperate for more friction. “Please, Iwa,” you moan.

The sound of it, the lewd slaps of skin against skin, the wet squelching as he drives his cock home again with an unforgiving pace would be enough to make you burn with embarrassment, but you don’t care because you’re quickly losing yourself to mindless pleasure. Every stroke fills you completely, it’s hot and thick and the drag of his cock against your plush walls, the way it kisses that sweet perfect spot with every thrust is driving you to insanity.

“Fuck!” you cry, clenching tightly around his length as you hurtle over the edge for a second time. You’re gushing, convulsing, back arched up off the couch, lips parted and–

Iwaizumi stops with a growl and you barely have time to process it before he’s flipping you onto your front, yanking your ass up into the air and hammering his cock back into your swollen, abused little pussy. It’s a bruising pace he sets as he chases after his own end, your name falling from his lips in harsh, breathless grunts. 

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become sloppy, your cunt sucking him in and pulsing around his cock. And you don’t have the mental capacity to beg him to pull out, not as his muscular chest collapses against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist and he pumps you full of his seed.

Neither one of you move straight away, both fighting to catch your breath and calm down in the afterglow of your orgasms. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the back of your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he can reach. It’s an intimacy that doesn’t belong here, but you find yourself arching into it, a small, tired smile curling at your lips as Iwaizumi lavishes you with affection. 

And you can only whine softly when he finally pulls his cock out and stands, lifting your boneless form up into his arms, chuckling quietly when you bury your head into his chest. Your head’s empty, your thoughts a jumbled mess as he carries you into his bedroom, depositing you carefully onto the bed. 

Iwaizumi leaves you there like that, and when he returns a few minutes later he’s dressed again. He doesn’t smile, but there’s something oddly content about his expression as he stops by the doorway and takes in the sight of you; naked and thoroughly fucked out, curled up amongst his covers. 

“Iwa?” you ask sleepily, stretching your aching body to make yourself more comfortable as you nestle further into the soft mattress.

He doesn’t answer you as he strides in, but you watch through half lidded eyes as his expression hardens. Stopping by the bedside, Iwaizumi reaches for you. You think he’s going to cup your cheek again, maybe run his fingers through your hair, but instead his hand slides between your thighs, gathering up some of the cum that’s seeped from your pussy with his fingers and slowly pushing it back inside of you, humming when you whine and shift under him.

“I’m leaving for a bit,” he tells you, your gut clenching as you remember why you’re in this position in the first place. “You don’t leave this apartment until I get back. You don’t answer the door, you don’t tell anyone you’re here, you don’t leave this bed unless you have a goddamn good reason. Understand?”

Weakly, you nod.

“Such a good girl for me,” he breathes, and this time when he leans over he does kiss you, sweeping your hair back from your face before his warm lips meet your cheek. He lingers there for a beat longer than necessary before pulling away with a sigh.

And as the door swings shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place behind him, you begin to question whether you’ve made a mistake. You don’t doubt for a second that Iwa will follow through with his promise. Whether it’s tonight or tomorrow or a week from now, he’ll find Kazuma; him and his friends, and they’ll make sure he stays away. And until they do, you won’t leave this apartment.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that despite your pleas, Iwaizumi’ll kill him. 

Not because that’s the only way for this to end, though you realise that that’s always been a possibility, but because of what you glimpsed in his eyes today. Stupidly, you’d thought you had Iwa pegged. But there’s something that lurks beneath that facade, something more dangerous than you could’ve possibly imagined and the moment you opened the door to Iwaizumi it sunk its teeth into you and now you’re not sure if it’ll ever let you go.

And as you lie back in Iwaizumi’s bed, covered in the marks he left behind you wonder whether you’ve merely traded one monster for another. Perhaps it was inevitable. Inexorable.

[dilfwaynes]

durante la notte

summary: natasha always deals the cards first, but always ends up being the first to fold them as well.

✎ word count ; 1.5k

⚢ pairings ; natasha romanoff x fem!reader

genre ; smut

✗ warnings ; mean power bottom!reader, undertones of elitism, strap on use, degradation, pwp.

a/n ; natasha x Italian!reader cos i was finishing italian hw while writing this and thinking in Italian LOL not edited !!

translation: fangool / go do it in an ass, / marone / damn it / il mio piccolo tesoro / my little treasure.

you lick your lips slowly, lifting the petite glass and bringing it to your lips, tasting the rich krug flat on your tongue. fingers wrapped around tightly as you watch natasha flaunt around the bar end of the restaurant, collude deep with a full view of her little display with your table only a few feet away. rolling your eyes you pick up the cigarette pack aside from you, fumbling down your drink and lighting it up, blowing out the thick french scent smoke.

“excuse me, could you please put out your cigarette,” your eyes flash towards the man some tables away, eyebrow cocked in annoyance and distrain. you stare blankly, tapping away the burnt ashes off the tip and turning your attention back to natasha.” ma’am.”

“marone! leave the fucking smoking section then!” you snap towards their direction, eyes harden and un amusement fading to anger fast, glaring. “proletariat, fangool!” shifting back to the russian, catching her eyes and bridging the intensity of her green, inhaling once more. sliding the champagne again to your lips, raising an eyebrow over the rim with jealousy burning in with the alcohol. are you finished with your game?

natasha smirked over her slightly hauled shoulder, your expression lamely and stoic but faded underneath is the whole reason she’s continuing on her show. still, she peers at you from the corner of her while fingers shims around the younger girl’s arm, your rings grasping tightly against the glass, the cartier sleek love band, and the golden diamond aside it as well a panthère slimed around your wrist. truthfully you looked good enough to eat with the white silk pressed on your tanned skin, giving you more of a glow with the golden  accessories.

brushing back the stray hair behind the girl’s ear she watched as your mien fallen and a rushed snap of your fingers has the waiter ushering you the bill, eyes set on natasha as you mindless throw money for the check and tip. 

“natasha,” waving a hand behind your back to beckon her to tail from a distance, and like always she obeyed. following you into the car, muttering something in Italian before the chauffeur starts the car. you turn your attention back on her calmly, nodding before reaching a hand and yanking her head to rear in your pleasing.” what a show you’ve put on tonight beloved, but i didn’t care much for your co-star.” you laugh softly, pulling her upper to meet her eyes. your nails running along the back of her neck with your lips attaching to the base of her throat.

“but i don’t think it’ll do well,” you sigh, the mock of sympathetic patent with a now pout in place. natasha’s lips quirk upwards, deciding to play along.” that’s mean to say baby.” her eyes trained on your lips, the red curling into a pleasing smile, the hold within her hair loosens, and a soothing hand pushing her streaks back.  

“don’t worry, you can be the main star of my show,” you say quietly, intertwining your hand with hers and bringing it down to your thigh under your dress, your gaze flickering back towards her.” and mine will be a lot better and successful.” your fist tightening withholding her hair once more and roughly pushing her towards you, slamming your lips against hers with a smothering kiss.

“but i don’t know if you quite deserve it, touching that filthy puttana,” you whisper nearing the shell of her ear, voice edged with a low seething.”i shouldn’t even let you touch me. i bet if i let you, you’ve spread that whore out and fucked her, hm? or would you have done that if i wasn’t there?” your words meant to come out as teasing but natasha heard the undertones, and she knew you knew, that she knew.

“no,” natasha lets out shakily, holding back a groan of the feeling of your teeth nipping at her exposed neck.”don’t want her, just you.” your head falls against her shoulder, smoothing a kiss on the blade.

“just me?” your relaxed features now sneering, your grip a little tighter at the movement of the car stopping. nodding,” just you.”

giving her another kiss before opening the door, an unspoken command for her to follow you into the penthouse. kicking off the satin heels, peering over to the entrance where natasha stands.”c’mere il mio piccolo tesoro,” you coo, tapping a spot for her to join, smiling to ace the act. natasha doesn’t need to see the calm before the storm to understand how this is gonna play out. draping your legs over her lap, catching her face between your fingers,”such a pretty girl,” you murmur, shaking your head.”too bad she’s such a little fucking slut.” you finish, though the tone still mockingly sweet, your smile replaced with a lazy grin now.

without any response from natasha you shift towards her lap, your legs between her waist and gripping her thighs with a bruising kiss, wrapping her legs further around her waist. alining your sex to brush right against her bare thigh, sighing out at the friction, the thin panties the only thing keeping your pussy from her warm skin.”stay put.” you hiss, sealing it with a pinch to her arm, laughing at her little groan of pain.  striding towards the chest tucked into the corner, picking up the silicone and a small bottle of lube. 

“make yourself useful for once and lube that bitch up,” you laugh at your own words and take no mind to natasha, she rolls her eyes stripping herself of her top, watching your little tease show of taking off the silk, and as expected a matching white set underneath. rolling her hips up through the harness, squeezing some of the lube into her palms and running it along the fake length. lifting her gaze and meeting your steps to her, your bra unclasped and somewhere thrown but your panties remain. she cocks her eyebrow downwards, silently asking why they’re still on. you don’t reply, simply pooling them down, and reaching for natasha’s face by her jaw and shoving the expensive lace into her mouth, very well enjoying her wide eyes of curiosity and then surprise.”don’t give me those eyes, i don’t wanna hear you after that shit you pulled with that puttana.”

slowly sinking yourself on the strap, slapping a looming hand of the red head underneath you, taking the cock with a burning stretch leaving you aching, moaning when you feel the tip hilts, natasha drooling at seeing the fake cock poke out some from your stomach. waiting a few moments before lightly grinding on the strap.”see, if you weren’t some stupid bitch i would’ve let you fucked me,” you tell her, grabbing her shoulders for support, rising your hips up and slamming them down again. natasha grits her teeth, itching to touch you, kiss you, feel you literally anything.”please.” she muffled out.

you chuckle at her barely audible beg, her eyes glossy and her voice so whiny, you loved her like this. you decide to throw her a bone and grab one of her hands to give some attention to your tits. speeding up your pace with the added pressure of natasha tugging your nipples between her fingers.”fuck, fuck, fuck play with my clit baby.” you gasp out, your eyelids fluttering with the coil in your stomach ready to snap. podding her thumb against your clit, watching your face falls into pleasure and soon you’re crying out and gushing all over her lap. alcohol always made you extra sensitive.

ripping the makeshift gag of your panties from her mouth, she stares at you for a few seconds.”i’m fucking you at least once tonight.”

“if you can even do that right beloved.”

your words get stuck in your throat as your back drops to the couch, natasha between your legs and pushing the tip inside, arousal pulling at the slick coating the strap. holding your hips still she snaps hers, filling you up. her mouth dry seeing tears peak the corner of your eyes, your legs shake around her already and she hasn’t even moved yet. supporting her body weight with her hand against the side of your head, grabbing the arm of the couch and thrusting up, her grunt going straight to your core. she smirks at the strings of high pitched moans she’s getting out of you, your nails dragging across her back and digging in, your legs beginning to shake uncontrollably with the sound of natasha fucking you, the couch dampening under the pressure of natasha’s hips against yours.”don’t stop, i’m gonna cum you better fucking make me cum.” leaning down and smashing her lips down to yours, reaching a hand to where you both connect and rubbing circles on your clit.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, your grip on natasha unbreakable and your body shaking under her from your second orgasm of the night. giving out a few more trusts to ride out your climbmax, kissing the side of your temple and staying inside you. panting slightly, burying her face inbetween your neck and the Italian leather.

“does this make me forgiven?”

“we’ll see.”

[quindolyn]

hi hi i have a req- remus and/or sirius where the reader has like bigger boobs w like stretch marks and stuff (bc theyre natural!!) and shes insecure ab them so the boy(s) make her feel better

Stripes || Wolfstar

A/N: I am not particularly fond of this piece all that much but it is what it is. I tried not to mention breast size too much because I know not everyone has big tits and I want as many people as possible to resonate with my work. Tits of all shapes and sizes can have stretch marks, they are completely natural and beautiful.

Warnings: smoking, it's not too too smutty I'd call it more fluffy smut, tit sucking, mentions of love bites, all acts are consensual and there is an established safe word

Word Count: 1,928

“We could go again,” Sirius offers as he lights his cigarette, leaning up against the headboard, guiding the fag to his lips he inhales deeply and you can’t help but be mesmerized as you watch his lips wrap around it.

Pink and soft, they're swollen from the night's previous activities, thinking about how they got that way sends a shiver down your spine, do yours look the same? Exhaling, you watch the smoke curl out his nose before dissipating into the air.

“Don’t know Pads, you think you could get it up again?” Remus stretches to reach his wand on the bedside table quickly and silently spelling you all clean.

Grey eyes flash with annoyance as he lifts the cigarette back up to his lips, though you must’ve watched him smoke hundreds of times you still can’t manage to tear your eyes away.

Maybe it's the way his fingers manipulate the small object as he plays with it absentmindedly that draws you in, the joints and muscles in his hand shifting under pale skin which looks almost as soft as it actually is.

Every now and again he’ll catch you staring at him, like now for example. His eyes flicker downwards finding your optics already fixed on him, “You want a hit Princess?” He raises his eyebrow, gesturing with the hand holding the smoke.

You nod your head, it’s not every day you’re included in their little smoke breaks post coitus, “Please.”

“Please,” Sirius mocks you as he leans down to hold the cigarette to your lips. You barely have the chance to taste the tobacco before it's being pulled away, this time to your right where Remus takes his time enjoying his smoke.

You can’t help but whine as it departs your lips and you’re met by the shit eating grin on Sirius’ face, clearly taking pleasure in teasing you so mercilessly.

“No whining Princess, smoking isn’t good for pretty girls is it?” Letting his hand cup the side of your face his thumb runs along the soft cushion of your bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to tease you.

In your peripheral vision you catch the cig being handed over your head, exchanging between the two boys as you nod your head once more.

“Good girl,” He coos, before taking another hit.

As the smoke leaves his nostrils he’s dipping down to find your lips. He tastes of smoke and something about it coming from his lips makes it all the more sweet, it’s probably better than the real thing.

It’s intensified as his tongue delves into your mouth, you can practically feel the smoke in your lungs, you’ve never been a match for him and simply let your tongue be manipulated by his before he pulls back, connecting the two of you with a strand of saliva that when it breaks falls onto the side of your face.

“Messy girl,” He murmurs, smug smirk on his lips, as he wipes away the mess, in reality his efforts only work to smear the spit on your cheek rather than clean it up.

“So what do you think baby?” Remus asks, sitting up and pulling you with him so you’re both upright, “You wanna try and go again?”

“I don’t know Rem, you think Siri can get it back up or is my wrist gonna cramp trying to get him hard?”

“You two are cruel,” No matter how hard he tries to hide it you can see the slight smile pulling upwards at his lips, “You’re even hiding your titties from me, mean.”

He gestures towards your chest, he’s right, you’d subconsciously clutched the sheet to your chest, crossing your arms to keep it in place and your breasts covered.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as the realization dawns upon you, it wasn’t that you were intentionally guarding them from either boy but you realize that that is how it looks.

“No it's not that Siri I just, I usually keep them covered. They’re… they’re… “ You stumble over your words, only increasing your embarrassment.

“They’re what puppy?” Remus asks, lightly brushing your hair behind your ear so that he has access to your temple, smearing his lips across the soft skin.

“I don’t know,” As you grow shy your voice drops to a mere mumble, “They’ve got all sorts of marks on them.”

This proves worrisome enough for Sirius to set down his fag, letting it sit in the ashtray on the nightstand.

“You mean stretch marks Princess?”

You try your best not to cringe at those words, stretch marks. It's not a dirty word, somewhere inside you, you know that but that has never stopped you from being insecure by them. Deliberately choosing tops that side the ones that sprout from the tops, near your under arm before traveling down the curvature of your tit. Making sure your lingerie always has some sort of extra covering where they’re most visible.

You feel Remus’ hold on you tighten from behind at your pained silence, it's telling enough.

“Just don’t like them.”

Your words have Sirius climbing closer to you, throwing your legs around his hips so the two of you can sit face to face while Remus holds you from behind.

“May we see them, Puppy?” Remus’ elegant fingertips dance along the top of the sheet which resides just a few inches below your collarbone. You shiver at his dainty touch, his fingers are light as feathers, slowly coaxing you into trusting them with this.

“It’s okay,” Sirius’ hand delicately grasps your knee over the soft sheet, “Wanna see our pretty girls but it's alright if you need a moment puppy.”

“No, s’okay.”

Sirius gives you a small smile that only grows as you drop the sheet, letting it pool at your waist.

He spares you a glance before slowly extending his arm, giving you time to tell him to stop or pull the sheet back up, and even though you want to do both those things and more you love Siri. You love Rem. And you know that they’ll be gentle and patient with you.

So instead you steel yourself for his touch relaxing as you feel Remus’ sizable hands wrap around your waist, resting on your tummy.

Your shoulders bunch back up as the tips of Sirius’ fingers,  nails having been painted black just a few hours ago. His touch is steady as he finds a particularly predominant mark tracing along the curve of your tit.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous (Y/N), can’t believe I get to touch you.”

“You’re silly Siri.”

“Not silly, you’re just fucking breathtaking. You got the nicest tits.”

“Just all marked up,” You shrug your shoulders, Remus takes the opportunity to smooth his chapped lips along your joint.

“No,” Remus contradicts, “They’re marked up when we sink our teeth into them and leave pretty bruises all over them,” His hands travel from your waist to explore your tit before stopping on the top of your left one where he remembers having sucked rather fervently just an hour before, “Like right here.”

His pressing down on the flesh pulls a squeak from you as a shock of pain shoots up your spine, leaving your body tingly and the specific spot where his fingers rest pulsing.

“These,” He continues, dragging his fingers over the small indents in your skin, “Are your stripes.”

Sirius leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth as his hands go to support the weight of your breast. The angle’s a bit awkward but it seems to do little, if anything, to discourage him.

Gently capturing your nipple with his teeth he sucks harder, nuzzling at your chest as he does so. The pleasure that you derive from such a simple act has your head falling back onto the solidity of Remus’ shoulder, pulling whimpers from your throat as you jutt your chest out.

“So fucking good,” Sirius growls as he regretably lets go of your titty, “Pretty nipples,” He accentuates his point by twisting them each between his fingers, “Pretty stripes.”

Leaning down he drags his tongue along one of your stretch marks, beginning in the valley between your breasts before extending upwards.

“They’re completely natural, Puppy,” Remus’ voice is subdued as he runs his hands up and down your waist, “Lots of people have them on their tits, Siri and I have them in other places too.”

“S different on you , Remmy,” You try to explain, “You two are perfect.”

“Does it bother you when we see them during sex baby?” He asks with genuine curiosity in his voice, the thought of making you uncomfortable when you’re so open and vulnerable leaving his stomach twisting.

“Not always, no,” He remains silent, urging you to continue, “You make me feel beautiful Rem, both of you, I just can’t help but not like them, don’t like the way they look, or the way they feel.”

You hear him suck in a deep breath and you can practically hear the gears in his mind turning as he contemplates just what to say.

His hands move to hold both sides of your face in his palms as his forehead falls to rest against yours.

“Let us show you how beautiful your tits are, will you let us do that?”

“You don’t have to-”

Sirius cuts you off, releasing your tit from his mouth, “We want to (Y/N), let us,” He dips his head back down, delicately kissing the top of one of your breasts, “Please.”

He murmurs the simple, one syllable, word against your skin, the sensation sending shivers through your body. He rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers, it's nearly enough to have you mewling as you kneel at his feet. Maybe another time.

Before you can register what’s happening, strong hands are softly pushing you back so that you’re laying down on the bed.

You feel the steady weight of your breasts bouncing on your chest before they’re being grasped by hands that just by touch you recognize as Remus’. His thumbs run along the insides of your breasts where more faded lines reside, creating swirling patterns that Remus seems to thoroughly enjoy.

“You know why you got these right?” Sirius questions, raising his brow.

You shake your head.

“Because you got big fucking tits Princess, look at them!” Smoothly he replaces Remus’ hands with his own, letting their weight settle in his hands, “Bigger than my hands, bigger than Rem’s, they’re fucking gorgeous.”

He drops onto his bum as he reaches over you to pick up his fag, raising it to his lips as his eyes fixate on your bare tits, a wicked smirk on his lips. Instead of feeling uncomfortable under his eyes the feeling is something equivalent to the sun’s rays shining on you, warming you all the way down to your core.

You can’t help but smile at the sincerity in his voice, the absolution with which he speaks pulling at your heart strings. How did you get so lucky as to deserve his love? Though he’s not as chatty you know Remus believes every word out of Sirius’ mouth, tenderly he takes your hand in his, absentmindedly playing with your fingers while your two hands rest in his lap.

“It’s just hard to believe you guys sometimes, m’your girlfriend, you gotta be nice to me.”

Gently Remus guides your hand to his crotch, you’re met by his aching cock which you’re just now realizing is standing fully erect, aching, weeping red tip smearing precum against his lean belly.

“Believe us now?”

tag list: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @dracofknmalfoy @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @gubleryum @advictedtohim @marauderswhore07 @st0nesnglitter @priii @miraclesoflove @shadesofvelma @ashlovesthemarauders @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @padfootswife @roonilwazlibswhore @swearingsolemnly @jamespotterslover @lolooo22 @adrianscumslut @jeannelupinblack @wh0reforthemarauders @myalupinblack @ashesandstars @remugoodgirl @planet-wolfstar @saintlike78 @i-love-scott-mccall @cedricisnotdead @pretty-pop-princess-hs  @sunshinexweasley  @saggyb1lls @trashyvicks @sprucewoodlover @slut4drvc0 @1-800-amortentia

[doitjake]

omg

could you do something between the lines of reader being Ethan's s/o but sometimes having a thing with Vic? but, like, not cheating, they all know and are cool with it 💗

Smoke on the room

Ethan x Reader X Vic

A/N: ok so this is my first måneskin fic, i am very new to their fandom but anyway i hope y'all like it! I still don't have a link to the måneskin requests but for now they can send me messages!! <3

"It's not like she's the worst singer in the world, Thomas!" Damiano pulled a cigarette from the wrapper. "Miley is just better."

The cigarette package now passed through everyone's hand, and taking out a cigarette and lighting it - lo seemed to all of us a cooler activity than listening to Thomas and Damiano arguing about Lana Del Rey and Miley Cryus.

"It would be better if you two would shut up." Vic spoke up lighting probably his third cigarette of the night.

The large collection of bracelets on her arm made pleasant noises as she did so, it was the only sound, along with Damiano's voice muttering some swear words, that could be heard inside the tiny booth of a nightclub that was used as a dressing room for the band.

Ethan's fingers traced small involuntary circles on the exposed skin of my arm, and in his other hand he held the cigarette and removed it from his lips, throwing his head back to release the smoke.

"I think I prefer Lana Del Rey too." I spoke as Thomas handed me the lighter and soon after we slapped our hands together in a high five.

"You guys are the worst." Damiano raised his middle finger at us as he stood up and shook his empty beer bottle, "I'm going to get more booze so I can put up with you guys!"

"You saw he took your guitar, right?" Ethan asked Thomas.

"Shit!" In less than 10 seconds the guitarist was on his feet running and screaming trying to find Damiano, probably remembering the time the lead singer hid his guitar after they had argued about which was the best Toy Story movie.

Vic dragged the chair from the small table they were using as a dressing table with an eyeliner in his hand. "Can I?" She asks Ethan as she sits down on the other side of the couch.

"You're going to stick it in my eye anyway, Vic." Ethan smiles taking just one more drag before turning his face to her.

"And you love it!" Victoria laughs as she begins to outline his eyes.

"A little." He laughs for a second before Vic tells him to stand still so she doesn't miss.

I smile at the scene as I settle down on the couch releasing the smoke from my cigarette.

"I'm done!" Vic smiles satisfied as she holds Ethan's face and turns him to me.

"I loved it." I smile at Ethan and he leaves a quick kiss on my lips.

Vic smiles at both of us and stands up going to the dressing table again. "Now you, signora." She jokes letting the little bit of a Danish accent show.

"No, thank you. But I'm not a rock star who is going on stage from here" I stop talking to look at my watch on my wrist and then look back at her and smile. "15 minutes!"

"Come on! It's quick." Vic smiles and slaps the chair in front of her. "And without the cigarette."

I roll my eyes playfully and pass my cigarette to Ethan, who will soon be done with his.

As I sit down in the chair, Vic starts rummaging through one of her purses and turns to Ethan.

"Nude or Red?"

"Hmm, red" He replies throwing what's left of his cigarette into the ashtray.

"It's not the least bit feminist for you to ask a man to choose the color of my lipstick" I speak laughing at her.

"You're too indecisive to choose between two things." She takes the lipstick and winks at me.

I smile as she approaches me.

"Mouth closed, girl!"

There's no controlling some goosebumps I feel when Vic runs her fingers through my hair, holding the back of my neck.

I look at Ethan out of the corner of my eye and see my boyfriend smiling sideways with a cloud of smoke around him.

"You guys want more drink?" He asks getting up from the couch, scooping up some ash that fell into his pants.

"I'll have a beer." Vic speaks stepping back a little to take a quick look at Ethan.

With my lipstick still close to my lips, I reply "Same."

Ethan smiles at us and turns toward the door.

Victoria continues to dab the lipstick on my lips for a few seconds and when she moves a little closer and holds the back of my neck a little tighter I can't resist playing with the gold details on the hem of her shorts.

"Don't unfocus me." She runs her thumb around my lower lip.

"Sorry." I smile lightly against her finger.

When she finishes wiping, she takes a haul of paper to clean her fingertips, but doesn't pull away. Our knees still touch, and if she were to bend down our mouths would do the same.

And she does just that when I look at her again after turning to the mirror on the table.

She holds my chin and looks at my lips.

"Did you like it?"

And when Vic's lips slowly touch mine I can't remember to answer the question.

"Won't that make the lipstick smear?" I whisper against her mouth.

"It dries fast."

I place one of my hands on her waist, playing with her feel and the other goes up to her blonde hair. When our tongues are occupied with each other, all you can taste is beer, nicotine, and the strawberry essence of lipstick.

When Vic makes mention of sitting on my lap, I end our kiss, smiling at her and holding her waist.

"You have five minutes to get on stage, bass player." She looks at me incredulously at first but then laughs and pulls away as little as possible.

"I hate you." She smiles turning to the table to touch up her gloss.

"Damiano! There's no way I can play guitar without the guitar!" Damiano enters the dressing room as Thomas follows him.

Ethan enters right behind holding three bottles of beer, one half full and the other two full.

Vic walks past him and takes one of the bottles, kisses him on the cheek and walks out the dressing room door. "See you on stage, kids!"

Before I can grab the other bottle, which Ethan extends in my direction. Damiano steps in front of me and takes it. "Thanks, honey!" and heads toward the door as well. But he doesn't leave before he yells. "Don't even think about having sex now, Ethan Torchio! We have three minutes."

"Yes! And you still haven't returned my guitar!" Thomas runs after Damiano for the second time in the night.

Ethan laughs with slightly red cheeks and holds out his beer to me. I take a sip and hand it back to him.

He approaches me smiling and runs his finger along the corner of my mouth, "It was a little smudgy." He smirks, losing his shyness from seconds ago.

I slap his arm lightly and kiss him.

Ethan smiles at me and kisses the top of my head before intertwining our hands. "Let's go, babe"

[amazingmaeve]

Possessive ↠ John Shelby

━ “gonna show you who you belong too.”

request ━ Could it be where the reader has been john’s girlfriend for forever and when michael joins the family he gets flirty with her and it really bothers john. He gets possessive one day he fucks her in his office and michael comes into the betting shop and sees them in john’s office and he and john make eye contact and john keeps going with a cocky look on his face

summary ━ john sees how comfortable michael is getting around y/n who is oblivious to his flirting. john makes sure michael knows who she’s with.

warnings ━ smut, fluff, jealousy, john being possessive, fingering, oral (f receiving), public sex (kinda)

a/n ━ love writing for john

word count ━ 3k

tags ━ @peakascum

John Shelby let out an angry sigh as he watched his girlfriend of 3 years talk to his cousin Michael. Michael just came back to the family a few weeks ago and he was already cozying up to Y/N.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her with other guys, it was the guys he didn’t trust. Now that didn’t mean he thought Michael was going to kill his girlfriend just might try to have sex with her. It usually happens when any guy talks to Y/N but this isn’t any guy. It’s his cousin.

John watched as Y/N giggled at something Michael said. Seeing her laughing would’ve brought a smile to his face if it were him doing it. He knows he should be happy that she’s having a good time. But John can’t help how possessive he feels when it comes to her.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist Johnny boy,” Arthur chuckled as he clasped his shoulder coming to sit on the bar stool next to his.

“Michael isn’t going to try anything he knows she’s your girlfriend,” Tommy said coldly, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He pulled it between his lips and let out a puff of smoke.

“He better not,” John snaps, taking a drink of the gin on the table. John doesn’t want to admit it but he’s jealous. Y/N should be laughing with him, not Micheal. He should be making the smile that graced her lips.

John continues to stare at Y/N and Michael as she says something that makes him let a smile come to his lips. John rolls his eyes grinding his teeth together, ignoring every bone in his body to go and beat the shit out of Michael.

“John,” Tommy snapped at the younger Shelby. John looked at Thomas who was sitting on the other side of his stool. “Stop staring, you're lookin’ like a stalker,” He advised.

“Pretty sure that’s the look he always gives Y/N,” Arthur teases with a smirk.

“No, only when she’s talking to another man,” Tommy corrected a tiny smirk gracing his lips as well.

“Fuck off,” John grumbled rolling his eyes at his older brothers.

“You don't have to worry about anything John, that girl is in love with you,” Tommy explains in a sharp tone. Tommy knew that John got jealous easily and he has to keep reminding him that Y/N is in love with him.

Before John could say anything else, Y/N walked up to them with her coat on looking at John. She gave him a smile and placed the palm of her hand in Johns. She gave him a comforting squeeze.

“You ready to go,” Y/N asks, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“You say goodbye to Michael,” John asked with a venomous tone in his voice which Y/N missed.

“Yes,” She answered with a smile.

“Let’s go love,” John sighed, getting up, finishing his drink before getting his coat on while Y/N bid her goodbyes to Arthur and Tommy.

On the way home Y/N and John didn’t talk which made Y/N slightly worried. John usually is pretty chatty when they walk home but that’s not the case here.

She tried grabbing his hand, and holding trying to comfort him. But that didn’t do anything as he snatched his hand away from her.

Y/N sighed as a frown graced her lips. She was confused and saddened by John's movements and silence.

Once they got home John went to the bathroom to get ready for bed not even mumbling a word to Y/N. She got ready for bed in the bedroom getting in her nightgown. She got a drink of water from the kitchen giving John some space before going back up stairs.

When she returned to the room she saw John sitting on the bed smoking a cigarette.

“Those are gonna kill you someday,” Y/N comments as she gets into bed. She slips under the cover leaning her arm on her pillow looking at John.

“M’not dead yet,” John smirks as he brings Y/N closer. She leans her head on his bare chest, drawing shapes on his upper chest.

“Don’t wanna lose you,” She whispers as John butts out the cigarette leaning down to give Y/N a kiss on the lips.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy love,” John smirked, brushing some of her hair behind her ear.

“Shame,” Y/N teases her lips brushing against his as she brings him in for another kiss.

Y/N gets up to straddle him while kissing him. His hands go to her hips and he massages them as they continue to make out.

They part, needing to breathe and once she’s caught her breath, Y/N leans in to kiss John's neck leaving hickeys in her trail. She begins to suck on his sweet spot.

She grabs his hand and leads it up the nightgown and to the inside of her thigh.

“I don’t want you hanging out with Michael anymore,” John blurts out as she continues to kiss his neck.

She pulls back and looks at him in disbelief. “Can’t this wait,” She says rubbing her hands up and down his chest.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” John interrupts her affections as he grabs her hands and puts them around his neck.

“Don’t you trust me,” Y/N asks, moving on his lap so she could stare at him.

“Of course I do,” John reassures. He doesn’t want her to think that he doesn’t trust her but he can’t help the way he feels.

“Then what’s the problem,” Y/N snaps as John rolls his eyes, Y/N was always stubborn and that’s one of the many qualities that he loved about her.

“Love,” He begins to say but she rolls off his body and turns away from. “Come on sweetheart talk to me,” He tried to pull her to his chest wanting to comfort her.

“I don’t know what the problem is,” Y/N whispers, turning around to look.

“I just want you all to myself,” John teases, trying to make her laugh or at least crack a smile. But she didn’t.

“Just because you don’t like the stuff I do doesn't mean I can’t talk to Michael about it,” She snaps turning around.

“Love-,” John whispers but is interrupted by her. He was trying to pull her into a hug to comfort her but she pulled away.

“No obviously you don’t trust me so why would I want to cuddle with you,” She explains closing her eyes trying to go to sleep. John sighs before turning on his other side.

The two lie in silence as they’re both pulled into sleep.

The next morning when John woke up he turned around to see that Y/N was gone from the bed. He sighed, running his hand through his hair frustrations running through his blood.

John got up to go to the bathroom before getting changed to go to work. Y/N must be there since she works there as his secretary.

Once John got to work he saw Y/N sitting at her desk working on something. He walked over to her and thought that she would look up when she heard him walking, but she didn’t.

“Love?” John questions, eyebrow furrowing.

“What,” Y/N snapped, not looking up from her desk.

“You weren’t in bed this morning I got worried,” John firmly says leaning his hands on the desks as she finally looks up at him.

“I wanted to get to work early,” Y/N flatly says shrugging her shoulders. “I’m sorry I should’ve told you,” She says crossing her arms over her chest.

John rolls her eyes at the attitude radiating from Y/N moving to his office where he sits down in the chair.

He runs his hand over his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. In reality John feels bad for trying to control her life he just feels so protective of her.

To get his mind off of her John starts to work for the day as Y/N worlds outside his office. The office was loud but John and Y/N were quiet to engorged in the work.

When dinner rolls around everyone goes to the Garrison for some drinks just leaving Y/N and John all alone.

For the past hours, Y/N has been sneaking looks at John to see what he’s doing. Whenever she got up she looked to see what he was doing. He either was working or joking around with his brothers.

Y/N doesn’t understand why John didn’t want her to be friends with Michael. He was his cousin and she would never do anything with him. Michael just shares the same interest with her.

But that doesn’t mean she is romantically or sexually interested. Sure he’s a good looking guy but he isn’t John.

She walked up to the door and knocked on the side of the wall getting his attention.

“What’s wrong love,” John asks, his eyes full of confusion.

“I just wanted to solve this conflict between us,” Y/N says walking in the office slowly. “I know you mean well, but when you say crap like that it makes me feel like you don’t trust me,” She sits on the edge of the desk in front of him.

“Love this isn’t you this is me,” John states grabbing her hands. “Whenever you’re with him, it makes me feel like you like him better love.”

“I would never think that I don’t like anyone better than you,” Y/N squeezes his hands in reassurance. John smirks and stands up as he slides Y/N over so she’s sitting in front of him.

“Even better than Michael,” John asks in a whisper. She can feel a shiver go down her spine as he asks the question.

“Much better,” She whispers. John finally closes the space between them by kissing her. She wraps her arms around his neck as his hands go to her thighs.

The dress she was wearing was getting rode up from him standing. His hands were moving up and down her thighs giving them a squeeze every once and awhile. Meanwhile his lips traveled to her neck and started kissing and sucking her neck.

John's thumb rubs against her panties which were already damp from the teasing. His thumb sought out her clit and began to rub the nub hard.

“John,” Y/N moans leaning her head back as he bites her neck.

“Who makes you feel this way love,” John smirks and bits her ear. His hands slide her underwear off and throws them across the room. His fingers return to her core and drags his fingers through her folds. “Come on, answer the question,” He probes, wanting an answer.

John slips a finger inside making Y/N whimper as she leans her head on his shoulder. He slowly slides his finger in and out, also curling his finger to hit her g spot.

“You do Johnny,” Y/N whimpers, wanting him to go faster. She tries to meet his slow thrusts but his other hand holds her down.

“Hmmm,” John hummus moving his finger faster and adding a second one. She moans and clenches around his fingers. “I’m glad to hear that love,” He whispers in her ear as he continues to finger her. His thumb returns to her clit and rubs fastly.

His fingers start to go faster as John chases her orgasm. His thumb doing figure eights on her which sends sparks to her core.

“You gonna cum,” John asks, his tone breathy as he whispers in her ears. Y/N whines as he stops his pace but she’s still clenching around him.

“Yes please,” Y/N begs now knowing he won’t start his movements until she answers his questions.

“Good girl,” John whispers as he starts his movements again. His fingers curl to meet her g spot while his thumb returns to her clit. Only this time he’s going faster than he did before.

“John,” Y/N moans loudly as his fingers haven’t slowed down his pace. She could feel it. She could feel her orgasm about to come. Y/N kept clenching around his fingers.

“Cum,” John demands and just one swipe of his thumb against her clit made her spasm around John's fingers.

“John,” She moans loudly as she clenches around his fingers and for a second she could almost see stars. Her breathing calms down after her orgasm dies down and she rests her head on his shoulder.

“That feel good love,” John asks with a smirk after a few seconds.

“Definitely,” Y/N breaths out as she calms down. “Okay your turn now,” She says with a smirk about to get on her two feet before John kept her on the desk.

“No love tonight’s all about you,” John's word goes straight to her core.

“But-,” Y/N tries to say but is interrupted. All she wanted to do was pleasure him like he did to her.

“Come on love I just want to pleasure you,” John digs down on the chair and puts his hands on her thighs. She clenches even though John hasn’t done anything to her again.

She nods and lets him spread her legs as he moves his chair closer to the table. John starts to kiss the inside of her thigh. As he’s peppering kisses on her thigh Y/N lets

“Johnny,” Y/N whines as he keeps biting and kissing her thighs. He smirks and kisses her clutching making her whimper. He starts to lap at her clit as she starts to feel that spark in her stomach again.

“John,” She moans as she tugs on his hair. He brings his tongue to her folds and drags it back to her clit where he gives the nub a harsh suck. “Oh god,” She moans loudly, wrapping legs around his neck.

John continues to suck on her clit leaving only to breath and then starts to lap at the sensitive nub. She can feel it start to come.

“John I’m about to cum,” Y/N warns as she tugs on his hair. John nods and continues to suck on the nub not caring. And only a few seconds she spasms around nothing as she tugs on his hair even harder. The orgasm goes through her.

Y/N lets out a happy sigh as John removes himself from her core loving the way she moaned for him.

“Hope that felt good love,” John says with a smirk as he stands up to kiss her straight after. Y/N lets out a surprised noise before kissing him back. She notes to herself that she can taste herself on his lips as he slips his tongue between her lips.

She brings her hands to his trousers and begins to unbuckle his belt. John chuckles against her lips.

“You sure you can take another darling,” John asks with a smirk. She nods as she pulls down his pants and boxers just enough so she can grab his hard on. “God darling I almost forgot the hard grip you got,” He smiles as she drags her hand down his cock.

John removes her hand from his cock and drags his tip along her wet folds which make her whine and John let out a groan.

“You ready sweetheart,” John asks as he pauses in front of her entrance.

“Yes please,” Y/N pleads, dragging her hands down his chest. John nods before finally entering her with a hard thrust.

Y/N lets out a loud moan as he pulls out and slams in hard hitting her g spot. She moans John's name like a prayer as he continues at a fast rate.

For him it’s hard since he’s been hard ever since she came into his office. With her clenching around him didn’t help either.

“That feel good,” John whispers as he grabs Y/N’s thigh and hoists it to his waist and his other arm goes across her back to keep her from falling on the desk. He keeps his pace at a hard rate. “Answer the question love,” He demands groaning in between when she clenches around him.

“Yes it feels so good,” She moans as his thumb drags along her clit. She brings her arms around his neck as he continues to thrust himself inside her.

“Hey John- oh my god I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Y/N heard Michaels voice come through the doorway. Just great she thinks.

Y/N would think he would stop thrusting and pull his pants up but that’s not what he did at all. He kept thrusting inside her making her let out tiny moans.

“What’s the question,” John demands as he continues to fuck Y/N on the desk while looking in Michaels direction with his cocky look on his face. Michael is visibly uncomfortable.

“Tommy wanted to know when you’d be at the Garrison,” Michael asks, clearing his throat avoiding eye contact and looking around the room

“Soon,” John promises as Y/N can feel herself about to cum and he brings his thumb back to her clit and starts massaging it fastly.

Michael nods and almost runs out as John goes faster filled with confidence.

“John,” Y/N moans loudly as he thrusts harder than before. She leans her neck back as she clenches right around him which makes him groan into her neck.

He continues to fuck her to get his orgasm and when he does he moans loudly into her ear and lets out his load inside her.

“John why’d you do that,” Y/N shoves his shoulder and winces as he pulls out of her sensitive pussy.

“You didn’t seem to mind,” John smirks pulling his boxers and trousers up and doing up his belt. Y/N rolls her eyes as John hands her, her underwear. She gets up putting them on and smoothing her dress out.

“Don’t forget Johnny you’re the only one I want.”

“I think half of Birmingham heard that love.”