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runningfrom2am · 6 months

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cold nights // part twenty-seven

summary: you were back in the capitol, and you would be damned if you didn't try your hardest to make it worthwhile.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: omg we're coming up on the end i could cry :') i finished writing everything and i feel like a shell of a person rn without this fic to plan and write, but i hope you guys are excited! there will be five more parts after this and then the epilogue, which brings me to some really exciting news!!

big news #1: i'm opening oneshot requests for this series!! my normal requests will remain closed but i'd love to see what you guys want for the more of this series! (link is here!)

big news #2: the end of this story is opening the doors to my third coryo series which I've been working on for a hot minute, and it'll be called requiem! (see the original request for it here to get the vibes before i post anything!)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

The protests caught you off guard, more than anything.

It had only been two weeks since you started your classes and you were loving them, but you hated getting dropped off in the morning and picked up in the afternoon. You and Coryo could no longer eat lunch outside, and the previously full lecture halls you had occupied saw more and more students dropping out as people stood outside just to shout at you as you came and went from the school four days a week. To call you an animal, that you don't belong there, that you should be "put down" for crimes against the Capitol. What they were? You had no idea.

Suffice to say, parents were not happy that you were there.

Generally, Coryo said that people had loved you in the games. You were "harmless", and "sweet", you gave them someone to root for- but now that you were walking freely among them instead of being kept behind the bars at the zoo or trapped inside the arena awaiting your death, you were suddenly a threat.

"They... they think I'll hurt someone?" You sniff, watery eyes overflowing as you look at Coryo lying beside you in his bed.

He bites his tongue, nodding as he wipes away your tears with the hand he has resting just under your cheek on top of his pillow. "They're afraid. That's all, it's not because of anything you did."

"I won't." You cry. "I would never, you know that, right?"

"I know, love. I know that." He promises you quietly.

"I don't want people to be afraid of me. It's not fair to them... If they feel unsafe I should just drop out."

"You're not doing that." He insists with a slight shake of his head. "We'll figure it out. Okay? Don't worry about them."

You just nod softly, wiping your eyes as he pushes his arm under your neck. "C'mere." He mumbles rolling onto his back and you move closer, laying your head on his chest as he pulls you closer to his side.

Coryo did figure it out, for the most part, which is how you ended up standing in Capitol TV's studios, awaiting an interview with Lucky Flickerman, someone you definitely thought you would never see again after the games. You didn't know how Coryo did it, who he had to talk to in order to convince them to let you plead your case so publicly. Apparently, the Snow name came with more power than you knew.

"You're gonna do great, love." Coryo whispers to you. "Just be yourself, but remember what I said about your essay, right? Be honest, but think about how you word things. I know you can do it." He assures you quietly, hands resting on your shoulders.

You nod, giving him a hopeful smile. "Thank you."

"I'll be right here, I'm not going anywhere." These types of reassurances were becoming less and less necessary over the month you've been here, but still, you don't like it when he's far, and he doesn't like it when he doesn't know where you are. It worked nicely for you both.

"Miss Y/L/N, whenever you're ready." One of the crew directs you, pointing to the comfortable chair they had set up in front of a homey-looking backdrop. It was fake, but it was meant to look like you were in someone's house. The idea of it was confusing to you, but you supposed it was also unimportant. You had much bigger concerns.

"Thank you." You smile at them and give Coryo another quick nod before making your way over to the seat that they said was yours.

Coryo watches as you carefully brush your hands over the front of your dress, smoothing it as you sit down. You looked so elegant as you did it, if he didn't know better, it looked like the habits of the people you were now surrounded with were rubbing off on you quickly. He had watched you rehearse how you would carry yourself and how you would speak and act with Tigris just this morning, after she fit you into the dress she had made for the occasion. Clearly, you had been paying attention.

When you draw your hair from your back and over your shoulder so your meticulously styled curls wouldn't be crushed against the chair, Coryo thinks he might need to sit down. Especially so when you look back at him again, subtly waving at him with your hand from where they are placed in your lap. The dress Tigris had given to you was red- a deep red silky material that complimented the red of his coat and mimicked the shade of the Capitol's flag but still had you standing out on your own. Seeing the way that dress fit you and hugged your form in all the right ways even as you were sitting, he was sure he had never been more grateful to his cousin and her talents.

"Y/N, it's so good to see you again." Lucky smiles at you as he sits down across from you, adjusting the small device attached to his lapel as crew members come up to you and fasten the same thing to the front and back of your dress.

"You as well." You grin, trying the best you can to mask your nervousness.

"Are you ready? Do you need anything?" He asks and you shake your head.

"I am ready whenever you are." You confirm, looking around as some more lights flick on, bright in your eyes as the man behind the camera starts counting down.

You look over at Coryo one last time and he nods at you. It was just like your first interview all over again- you had to sell yourself to the people. To prove that you were worth trusting.

"My name is Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman," You smile as he flips a coin up into the air. You've seen him do it before, but you still weren't sure how the trick worked. "Amateur magician and your host for everything interesting on Capitol TV, and today is certainly no exception. Today, I have a familiar face with me who I know you will all recognize as well, the Victor of the Tenth Annual Hunger Games, Miss Y/N Y/L/N." He looks over at you and you keep your eyes on him, certain that all cameras are watching you now.

"Y/N, I am so happy to have you back. How have you been?" Lucky asks you and you're already fighting off the need to fidget with your hands.

"I am very well." You smile at him. "How about yourself? It has been a while."

"I'm great, thank you! You know, I was not allowed to bet on the games, but anyone who was there can tell you that I predicted your win from the beginning. You certainly are something else."

"Oh, well thank you." You giggle. "Though, I can't fully be credited for my win. I have to thank the sponsors who allowed Coriolanus to send me food and water. That made all the difference in my game."

"Oh, most definitely." He agrees. "But you shouldn't deny your own role in that. Hiding in the vents, that was genius!" Lucky claps. "Truly, that was a jaw-dropping moment for all of us watching. I remember thinking 'wow, how did she think of that?' It was incredible!"

"Yes, well, I saw the grate and knew it was worth a try." You shrug, slightly laughing. "I had nothing to lose."

"Yes, well, I'm dying to know- what have you been up to the last few months? You went back to Twelve, and then what?"

"Oh! Yes, I did. I've been spending time with friends and family, I got a job at the local library, catching up on some reading, that sort of thing." You grin, glancing at Coryo for only a moment and he gestures for you to continue. "I got home and I really realized for the first time how much we should be appreciating everything we have- even out in the Districts where sometimes life is tough, it's key to remember how privileged we are to be alive. The games were truly eye-opening for me."

Coryo gives you a quick nod of approval, and you smile, training your view back on the man across from you.

"Yes, I agree. Live life to the fullest, that's what they say." You just nod at his response. "Which also begs the question, if you were happy back in Twelve, what brought you back to the Capitol?"

Let the lies begin.

"Well," You laugh nervously. "When I was given the opportunity to come here for the games back in July, I was so interested in everything. The people who I got to talk to, the things I got to see, it was all amazing and I was just dying for more."

"So you decided to come study at the university here, is what I've heard."

"Yes, exactly." You grin. "I just think that the Capitol has so much to offer as far as education goes, I am already learning so much and I am having so much fun doing it."

"So really, your focus is just on your education." He prompts you and you nod.

"Definitely, considering the course load I don't have time for much else, but that doesn't really bother me. Like I said, I just want to learn from the greatest minds in the nation. Even the other students, it's amazing! Everyone has earned their spot there and I can see why and all the work they have put in to be there. It's a privilege to study among them, and I am so grateful that I was given this chance."

"You say 'all the work that they put in to be there', but you didn't attend the academy, so how is it that you were admitted?"

"I filled out the same application that all the other students did, I went through all the same testing." You confirm, nodding at him. "Although," You laugh slightly. "I was only given one day to complete it all. I was locked away in my room working on it all night. I hardly had time to blink, it was tough."

"Wow!" Lucky laughs. "One day? I remember when I applied to the university, my application took months to get just right. You must have aced it all."

"I am very proud of the work I did to be admitted, yes." You smile.

"From what I hear, you should be." He agrees. "So, you're really not in it for the sake of making friends."

"Well, I certainly would love to, but it is not my priority." You nod. "But, if any of my classmates are watching, I promise I am good at proofreading and if you need a second set of eyes on your papers, I'm happy to help. I'd also love to have more people to discuss our readings with." You joke, looking into the camera for the first time.

Lucky laughs. "You've heard it here, everyone. Y/N's pitch to make some friends!"

"Yes, I suppose it was." You chuckle, smiling at him.

"Now on the topic of friends while we're getting to know you better," You tilt your head at him while he begins the question, unsure where it is going. "Back home, do you have a boyfriend? Surely he must be missing you."

"No, not at home..." You laugh, catching in the corner of your eye as Coryo shakes his head at you, his face flat of emotion. "I don't have a boyfriend. Again, that's really just not where my priorities lie at the moment. I've... I've had a very busy year, you could say." You explain hesitantly.

"Wow! A beautiful girl like you?" You laugh nervously at his response. "Capitol boys! She's smart, pretty, and single. Just saying." He says, raising his hands.

You knew his job today was to help you, to make you more likable and more normal, to humanize you, but it was still uncomfortable to hear. "Oh, please." You laugh nervously, waving a hand at him. "Like I said, I'm just here to learn. I'm not after anyone's son."

"No? Not even all the handsome boys in your classes? I'm sure there are at least a few." He teases you and your cheeks flush red.

"I wouldn't know, I'm watching the lectures." You shrug jokingly.

Coryo is trying not to lose his mind while you talk about how single you are. Not that you were much of a willing participant, and to be fair he did tell you not to indicate to them that the two of you were together. You technically weren't, if he was being totally fair, but just because it hadn't been said doesn't mean it isn't real. He knew you knew that, though. So why was he getting so mad?

He doesn't even realize how little attention he was paying after that until you're standing up and shaking Lucky's hand. It was over, you'd done everything you could have to ease the minds of scared and angry Capitol parents.

Lucky gives you a quick hug, wishing you good luck in your classes before you're allowed to rejoin Coryo. "Ready to go?" He asks and you nod.

"How did I do?" You ask as you walk out of the studio and into the hall, aiming for the elevator to take you back to ground level.

"Amazing, love. You were perfect." Coryo confirms, still noticeably tense as he walks next to you.

"Are you sure?" You ask as he presses the button to call the car up to your level, unsure since he still hasn't really looked at you.

The door opens and you both step in. "Yes." He tells you again, quickly tapping the door close button.

"Oh, good. I was really nervous..." You laugh slightly as the doors slide shut, and as soon as any light from the hall ceases to enter the elevator his hands are on you and his lips are pressed against yours.

You let out the slightest squeak out of shock, but quickly relax as Coryo rubs familiar small circles on your hips with his thumbs. How he could be so gentle as he backs you into the wall of the elevator you don't know, but you're grateful for it as you hum into his mouth. But still, something was different.

Spending so much time with you only made him want you more. He loved you, he knew that, and someplace deep in the corners of his mind, he had always wanted you in a way he never thought possible when he first fell for you before the games. Now, with you curled up under his sheets almost every night, seeing you step out of the bathroom with damp hair after a shower in pyjamas that don't fit you quite right, he thought about it more than ever. Thoughts of you plagued him more than usual, and the best way to describe the accompanying feeling was guilt. Guilt that he couldn't show you off given the circumstances- at least not yet.

He trails his kisses away from your lips and across your jaw, pulling you tighter against him. "You're so beautiful, my love..." He mumbles into the skin just below your ear, leaving a kiss in his wake that has your head spinning.

You giggle, eyes fluttering open. "What has gotten into you?" You ask, hands sliding up over his chest to rest on his shoulders.

"I can't tell my girlfriend that I think she's gorgeous?" He asks, shaking his head slightly as he looks down into your eyes.

"Oh, so I am your girlfriend." You giggle and he nods, kissing you again.

"Of course you are, and don't forget it." He chuckles, pulling back from you as the elevator stops moving, waiting for the doors to open.

Your skin is flushed down to your chest as the doors slide apart and even though he's not touching you anymore, you can feel the ghost of his hands on you. You look up at him, a lingering smirk still on his face as he looks straight ahead and leads you out of the car.

The phone rang at the time you were eating dinner, and you quickly asked if you could be excused to go answer it. Coryo and Tigris both just nodded at you, but you could still feel their grandmother's eyes burning into your back as you quickly walked away. She still wasn't fond of you, but she tolerated you. For now, that was just enough.

You grab the phone off the receiver as the small round screen flickers to life. "Hello?" You answer, hopeful that it would finally be your family you see on the other side.

You had answered every call that came to the Snow's apartment for weeks, waiting anxiously to hear their voices again.

"Y/N, is that you, honey?"

You gasp with excitement when you get a clear enough view of your ma. "Ma! Hi!" You smile, leaning in a little closer to get a more clear view as the camera on their end begins to adjust. This was likely the first time it was being used.

"Oh, honey, how good it is to see you!" She smiles, and out of nowhere, you feel hot tears welling up in your eyes.

"You too, Ma." You nod, biting into your lower lip. You didn't want to cry so quickly into the call. "How are you? How's everything at home?"

"Same old." She shakes her head with a slight laugh. "I'm much more interested in you- how is everything? How is school? And how is Tybalt settling in? How are you settling in? My goodness, I just have so many questions!"

You laugh, quickly wiping a stray tear. You had told them about all of this in letters, of course, but she just wanted to hear you say it all. "Everything is good. School has been so lovely, Coryo walks me to all my classes and we eat lunch together between. And Tybalt just loves it here! They have a garden on the roof, and I take him up there as often as I can. Tigris won't stop giving him treats either so he couldn't be happier."

You look down at the animal as he brushes against your leg, looking up at you.

"That's amazing. I've been so worried, it's just so good to see your face again. God, we've been missin' you..."

"I miss you too." You agree, careful not to choke on your tears. "How is Len? And have you seen Lucy Gray and the Covey?"

"He's... He's doing alright." Your mother looks off-screen, and you assume he must be there. The look on her face, one of nervousness and hesitation tells you he doesn't want to speak to you. "But Lucy Gray has been around every day, she and Maude Ivory come over and they help me with hanging the laundry and such... It's been good to have them around."

You smile sadly, nodding slightly with the receiver pressed to your ear. You felt bad about that aspect of leaving- you spent as much time as you could before the games helping out around the house, but even in the summer when you came back you weren't much help. Your mother wouldn't let you do dishes all summer, for fear that the sight of a knife might set you off. She knew you came back a different person, and she wasn't taking any risks. All she really allowed you to do was hang laundry and "keep her company" while she did other home chores. But now, she didn't even have that.

"Can I speak to him?" You ask, referring to your brother who you knew was there.

She nods, waving off camera and holding her hand over the wrong part of the phone. "Lennox, come over here. Y/N wants to talk to you."

His response is muffled, but you make out the gist of it. 'I don't want to talk to her'.

"She's your sister, Lennox. You can't ignore her forever."

'If she wants to talk, she should come home.'

Your heart clenches in your chest and you chew your lip. You have to pretend you couldn't hear, but you just felt so horribly guilty. You shouldn't have left, but he doesn't understand you had no choice. He wouldn't be able to understand until you could come home and see him again, likely not until the summer. Coryo had told you to be mindful of what you write in letters and what you say on the phone, it's possible others were listening. The Capitol was always listening.

"He's just a little busy right now, honey." She smiles at you, but you can see right through it. "But tell me about your day! Did you have class?"

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okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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da-rulah · 9 months

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The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 2]

Summary: Mary has something of yours from your last encounter. You have something of his. In a standoff, Mary suggests you meet to make the trade off, so you can pay your ransom.

Little does he know, you have a secret weapon up your sleeve... or rather, his sleeve...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: Teasing, lingerie, nipple play, choking, biting, cunnilingus, oral sex (f receiving), being gagged, squirting, manhandling, contraception mentioned but raw p in v sex still, angst, hurt

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: SO listen, this was supposed to be a silly little series of smut one shots with Mary that was low priority and something to do between other fics. Then... I started plotting. And now, the plot is plotted. So here you go, heathens - more Mary filth, except now we got storyline... Huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles & @angellayercake again for beta reading!

Oh, and I now have a ko-fi if you fancy leaving me a little tip, but no pressure. Love ya!

You stared at your phone, the unread notification on your screen lighting up with each time you hit the side button. You hadn’t opened the message, only able to see the preview but it was enough.

After two weeks of radio silence from Mary Goore, he’d finally text you late this afternoon.

R u willing 2 pay ur ransom yet doll?

You’d maybe stared at it for a few minutes, thinking of ways you might be able to sneak Mary in, or you could sneak out yourself. You knew your parents were home this evening; they’d invited your father’s deputy and his wife for dinner. You were not invited.

“Just business, darling,” your father had told you. “Not for children.”

That had pissed you off beyond belief. You weren’t a fucking child anymore; hadn’t been for a long time. But that’s daddy for you... Treating you like the same pigtailed little girl in the photo frame on your dresser, sat on her father’s shoulders at a Fourth of July parade. She looked happy, innocent.

But that was well over a decade ago.

And so, still simmering with a hint of anger and a flame stoked in your rebellious little soul, you decided you were indeed ready to pay your ransom.

You were ready for round two with Mary fucking Goore.

I have what you need. 8:30pm. I’ll leave my window open. Be quiet, daddy’s downstairs. No funny business, Goore. I’ll have my secret weapon ready if you try anything stupid.

A few minutes went by, when the ‘sent’ turned to ‘read 5:43pm’, and the three little dots popped up on his side.

Wouldn’t dream of it. C u l8r doll.

You smirked at your screen, a thrill rushing through you at the thought of another night with Mary Goore...

Mary sat in his old black van across the street from your house, staring at the only light that was on upstairs. He’d been here early, around 8pm, and seen a couple pull up in a fancy car through the ornate gates that shut your house off from the rest of the street. Your father had greeted them with a firm handshake and a cheek kiss at the porch. Some kind of work thing, he assumed, scoffing at the nature of the situation he found himself in.

Climbing through your window in the darkness of night to fool around with the Mayor’s daughter while he conducted a formal business meal downstairs. How cliché...

As he’d watched, he bit at his thumb nail, plotting his route to get to the window. He could climb up the trellis panels along the edge of your garage, shuffle his way along the guttering and climb in that way... First, he’d have to climb over the tall iron railings without impaling himself on the spikes around the back of the house and away from the security cameras along the porch.

He checked the clock on his dashboard, hissing a quick ‘fuck’ realising he was out of time; it was 8:27pm. It was now or never.

Mary scrambled his way over the fence of the back yard, carefully dodging the view of cameras and the French doors that he could see your father through, sat at the dining table with his guests. Miraculously, he hadn’t impaled himself on the railings, though he did manage to snag his already ripped jeans, but that was no real loss to him.

Climbing up the trellis should have been easier than it was, but he hadn’t accounted for the thorns on the roses that were growing up them. He quickly learned his lesson after blindly grabbing and piercing his palm in multiple places, almost stumbling and falling a few feet off the ground.

But eventually, Mary made it up on the garage, and shuffled his way along the guttering to your open window. With a less than graceful forward roll and a clatter of trinkets falling to the ground from the desk he’d knocked them from beside the window, Mary was in.

“Could’a told me I’d be pulling some Top Gun shit to get up here, doll...” he grumbled, dusting himself off and sucking at the puncture wounds on his palm as he turned around to find...

An empty room.

“Doll?” he asked, looking around to see if he’d missed you, but you were nowhere to be found. Mary’s shoulders slumped, huffing in annoyance as he found himself in a room that frankly was the exact opposite of his personal taste.

Patterned wallpaper from decades long since passed coated your walls, covered in pretty pink peonies. Pretty pink and white bedding draped over a large bed in the middle of the room, frills and lace neatly assembled with a well-kept collection of stuffed animals and scatter cushions against the headboard. Sparkly trinkets and polished ornaments sat on most surfaces he could see with the naked eye, clearly collected over the course of your childhood.

It looked like a kid’s bedroom... A little princess’ dream room. Not the bedroom of a young woman of your age, and certainly not the kind to fuck a guy like him in the stall of the men’s bathroom at a dive bar.

In your absence, Mary took the time to look closely at some of the trinkets lining your dresser; a necklace rack with pretty little pendants hanging neatly in different metals; a little gold tray filled with pretty stones and crystals you’d collected; a tiny little ornament of a pink kitten; a white half-burned candle that smelled faintly of roses.

You really were the cliché Mary thought you were, huh? Mary was little more than a touch of excitement and rebellion in an otherwise pristine little life – he could live with that, he supposed. He too had felt a thrill in claiming you as his two weeks ago in that bar, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about doing it again ever since.

As Mary looked around your room, flicking at the necklaces, inspecting the trinkets, he came across the photo frame of tiny little you. He picked it up, smiling to himself at the goofy grin on the little girl’s face, the pigtails tied up with pretty red ribbons that matches the dungarees she wore. He shook his head with a little laugh, noting the Mayor in the photo and how much younger he looked. Office had aged him, that was for sure.

How he’d come to find himself in this predicament, he had no idea. How ironic that the daughter of the Mayor to the very town that loathed him had become his booty call.

Well, you would be if he could fucking find you.

Putting the photo frame back in its place, Mary looked around one more time, noting there were two doors in the room. He figured he’d try his luck – if he were quiet enough, he wouldn’t be caught. Your parents had no reason to be upstairs with guests over, and maybe you were in a second living room or something? This house was definitely big enough to have two.

Mary crept over to the door closest to him, reaching for the handle. He’d just grasped it in his palm, when he heard a click behind him.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” your pretty little voice warned, more stern than he’d heard it before. Mary froze, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I think you just lost, doll...” he teased, standing up straighter yet still facing the door.

“Lost what, Goore?” you enquired, leaning up against the doorframe of the bathroom you’d just been in, hiding from him as you applied the final touches to your make up. Mary began to turn towards the sound of your voice, then.

“Your little game of hide and see-” He stopped in his tracks, the last syllable getting caught in his throat as his eyes fell on you.

There you were, this pristine little daddy’s girl, leaning up against the doorframe with cherry red lips so ridiculously enticing, scantily clad in pretty red lace. The matching set you’d prepared came with a garter belt, only attached to strips of elastic around your upper thigh. The straps of the bralette contoured the curve of your breasts, similar straps of elastic sitting high on your hips. The lace only covered what it needed to, the straps themselves doing most of the enticing.

But what really got him, was the leather jacket you wore over the top of it, covered in spikes, badges, patches and chains.

His leather jacket.

You smirked at Mary’s silence, watching his eyes drink you in as you showed off more than he’d got to see that night at the bar... This wasn’t rushed, this wasn’t on a whim. This had been planned, specifically to scramble his brain the second he saw you. And if the way he readjusted his jeans and his jaw dragged across the floor was anything to go by, you’d succeeded.

Mary scraped his jaw back from the floor, collecting himself and settling his gaze on your eyes, feigning a look of deviance and irritation.

“So, this is your secret weapon, huh?” he asked, gesturing towards your outfit – or lack thereof. “I told you I wanted that back,” he said, his voice deep and vaguely threatening.

“I propose a trade. Do you have them?” you asked, holding your open hand out towards him.

Mary patted at his chest as if looking for something, hands travelling down to his front pockets of his jeans, then to his back, where he let out an “ah-ha!” and pulled the familiar white lace of your panties from your last encounter from one of the pockets. “You’ll see they’re completely unharmed...” he dangled them out towards you.

“Put them on the bed and step away...” you warned, keeping up the facade of a ransom exchange just a little longer. Mary did as you asked, slowly stepping towards the end of your bed and gently laying your panties on the edge, before holding his hands up in surrender and stepping back a few paces.

You walked to the bed, picking them up and inspecting them for any damage at all. Mary watched you from afar, amused and shoving his hands into his pockets. With a satisfied hum, you balled the panties up and threw them back down onto the end of your bed, turning on your heels to look at him.

“See, doll? Completely unharmed. Now... your turn,” he smirked, his eyes drifting back over your body, enjoying every inch of skin he could see beneath his jacket.

“Can’t I keep it just a little longer...? It suits me, don’t you think?” you asked innocently, twirling around for him to catch a good glimpse of your ass peeking from beneath the leather.

Mary pinched at his chin, unashamedly watching your ass as you modelled his jacket for him. “Hmm,” he hummed, “I suppose... it does have a kind of charm on you, doll.”

You giggled, the sound momentarily scrambling the frequencies in his brain again before he shook his head and refocussed. You stepped towards him, biting your sultry red lip as you looked him up and down with the same hunger he had shown you.

“So... do I get to wear it a little longer?”

“Maybe just a little, doll...” he shrugged, waiting as you slowly approached him.

“Just a little?” you pouted, coming to stand in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kept his hands to himself, tucked back into his pockets. “Why just a little longer?”

“Because, doll... I ain’t gonna be able to stop myself ripping it off ya pretty fuckin’ soon,” he threatened. You grinned, pulling your body to rest against him, breasts pushed into his chest and hips grazing his half-hard length in his tight jeans.

“Enough talk, Mare... You came here to fuck me, so fuck me,” you told him, hovering your lips close to his.

But Mary just laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh, doll... Nuh-uh... You think I’m gonna rush this?” he asked, stepping either side of your feet and pushing you a step backwards simply with the force of his chest against yours. “Last time, we were in danger of gettin’ caught. Had to be quick, hm?” He took another step, forcing you back again. “But I reckon we got some time while daddy shmoozes his guests downstairs... I ain’t rushin’ this time, doll...”

He backs you up until you can feel the frills of your bedding on the bare backs of your knees, tickling the exposed skin but he stops you there, not yet pushing you down onto the mattress. Instead, he lifts one of his hands from his pocket, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip and lightly pulling it down.

“You wear this shade just for me, baby?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. From this close, you could see the details in his make up, the dark circles he painted on with pale skin, the fake blood dripping from his hairline. The fringe of his spiked hair tickled your nose where it came to a point, and you shivered from the tickle and his light grasp on your lip.

“Uh-huh,” you confirmed, Mary smirking in triumph.

“I like it... Wonder how it’d look on me,” he teased. “Let’s find out...”

In less than a heartbeat he dropped your lip, his hand reaching for the lapel of his jacket draped over your body and pulling you to him, pressing his lips to yours. You whimpered at the contact, your mind blanking with the sensation of being able to finally kiss him again after a painful two weeks.

Mary stayed true to his word, taking his time to mould his lips with yours, tilting his head in order to make you more pliant in his grasp. He tasted as he did the last time you met, with the exception of the beer you had pounded together that evening; the lingering taste of cigarette smoke and a vague sweetness from whatever he used as fake blood to drip down his face.

Your fingers wound their way into the shorter hair at the back of his head, tugging at the roots while your arms tightened around his neck. Mary’s grip on his jacket fell to your hips, pulling at the elastic of the garter belt around your waist. He could feel your bare skin beneath it, driving him utterly insane with want. But no, he said he wouldn’t rush this. He wouldn’t. He wanted to savour every touch, every taste, every noise he could from you.

But he also couldn’t bring himself to deny you when you ran your tongue along his bottom lip, a clear indication you needed to taste more of him, directly from the source. And so, he allowed you to invade, tongue meeting in a slow and deliberate show of sensuality.

Somehow, despite being so much slower in his movements this time around, it felt all the more filthy than your encounter in the bathroom stall. Your little mewls of pleasure and his dark little chuckles and groans added something to the moment, a familiar sense of desperation for each other.

Eventually, Mary pushed you to sit at the edge of your bed, tapping the steel toecap of his boots at your inner ankles to spread your knees for him to stand in the space you created. You did so without a fight, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes and curving your back to give him a nice view of your ass over your shoulder. He pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, smirking down at you with a smudge of red across his lips.

“Well...? How does your lipstick look on me, doll?” he asked, pouting for added effect.

“Suits you...” you giggled, “but I’m wondering...” You reached for his belt, unbuckling the leather from the oversized skull buckle, “how it’d look smothered along your cock...”

“Fuck, you’re filthy, doll...” he praised, but he gripped your wrists and paused your movements. “But as my memory serves me, you’ve taken my cock in that pretty mouth before, hm? And as fucking good as that was, I wanna try something new tonight. That alright with you?” he asked, a genuine tenderness in his eyes that let you know it was alright to tell him no, that you could back out any second if you wanted.

But the sparkle that said Mary had a plan was still very much prevalent, and you let your curiosity get the better of you. You wanted whatever he planned. You wanted anything Mary was willing to give.

“Whatever you want, Mare,” you smirked, fluttering your eyelashes up at him as you loosened your grip on his belt.

Mary whistled with a smirk and a shake of his head, “Careful sweetheart... That’s a real dangerous door to open.”

Before you could think of a witty response, his hand wrapped itself around your exposed neck, the cool feel of his silver rings contrasting with the heat of arousal that emanated from your skin. With his thumb, he titled your chin up a little more, before he dipped his head to attach his teeth to the space under your ear, nibbling, suckling, licking over the skin as he travelled down your neck, holding you in place while he bent over you.

Because he was stood between your thighs, you couldn’t help but widen them to accommodate him, his body slotting itself in and crowded your senses. You could smell a cologne on him – not one he’d worn last time... was he try to impress you? - that was musky and woody, only complimented by the faint smell of cigarette smoke.

Mary made his way down your neck, holding you tightly as he moved to your chest, paying close attention to the sounds of your laboured breaths and little whimpers as he got closer to the curve of your breasts. To aid his descent, Mary got down onto one knee, his free hand gripping your thigh for stability just as tightly as he held your neck. To your disappointment, he moved back just as he was getting close to the red elastic that sat above the cup of your bra, still holding you in place.

“Look at me, doll...” he commanded, and you did so without question – a little difficult, with the way he was holding your chin higher than it naturally sat. But he held eye contact with you, even as he moved in to lick a wide stripe between your breasts from your sternum, right up to where his hand grasped your neck. Your hips bucked just a little in arousal, but he noticed. Mary didn’t miss a trick.

“Fuckin’ needy little thing, you are. What, you want me to touch you?” His hand on your neck slid up to cup your jaw, two of his fingertips forcing their way past your lips and holding you tight. “Want my tongue? My fingers? My cock?”

You couldn’t answer if you tried, his hand locked in place, keeping you silent save for the pleading whine you let out. Mary laughed, reattaching his lips to your chest and trailing open mouthed kisses down to the curve of your breast, finally mouthing at flesh instead of skin and bone. He bit down on you, digging his nails into your thigh as he did to spread the light pain further across your body. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out, hips rolling on the bed in search of something more.

“Undo this bra for me, doll. My hands are busy,” he told you. You did as you were told, reaching behind you and unclasping the hooks, letting it fall loose on your shoulders underneath Mary’s jacket. With the tension removed from the elastic, he could move the flimsy cups out of the way, nudging them with that delectable nose of his to finally reach the nipples that had hardened for him long ago.

His tongue laved over the bud, heavy breaths flooding from his nose while his mouth was preoccupied with your tits. By the noise he was making, Mary seemed to be enjoying himself, fingertips digging into your thigh against, his rings imprinting on your flesh.

With Mary distracted, you shimmied out of his jacket, wanting to take the bra off completely. When you’d thrown the thin little thing to the side, Mary’s eyes looked up at you with a darkness, a hint of distaste in them.

“Put that fucking jacket back on,” he growled against your breast. “Ain’t nothin’ prettier than tits and leather.” You giggled around the fingers in your mouth and reached for the jacket that lay around you, shuffling until you had it back on. “Good girl,” he mumbled against your breast again, suckling at your nipple while he slid the hand from your mouth down to cup the other breast, pinching in time with his teeth nipping at the other.

Your hands found his hair again, messing with the way he’d styled it and scratching at his scalp as you pulled his head closer to you. You rolled your hips again where you sat, trying desperately to grind against his chest but you simply couldn’t reach from here, and you whimpered at the lack of contact to where you really needed him.

With a popping sound, Mary pulled back from your breast and levelled his face with yours, demanding eye contact.

“Needy little girl wants me to touch her cunt, huh?” he asked, no hint of shame or shyness to him at all. It made your core burn for him.

“Please, Mare...” you whined.

“Said I was gonna take my time, doll. You gettin’ impatient?” He arched an eyebrow, testing you. You were in no mood to hide your lust.

“Mhm...”

“You want my cock that badly?” he asked, a cocky smile playing on his lips. You nodded, giving him your best pathetically needy puppy-dog eyes. He just laughed.

“Tough shit, doll. I’m sure you’re used to gettin’ what you want, but I wanna enjoy this. And frankly, baby, I’m thirsty. I’ve been here all this time, and you haven’t even offered your guest a drink?” he accused, acting insulted. “Just rude, that. Guess I’ll have to get my own...”

A swell of panic rose in your chest, your eyes widening as your eyes darted towards the door to the hallway. He couldn’t... Your father would go nuts, throw Mary out by the collar of his band shirt and ground you for the rest of eternity – even if you were a fucking adult.

Mary followed your gaze and laughed. “Not from there, doll. I got what I need right here.”

Without warning, Mary pulled the feeble lace of your panties to one side, exposing your dripping centre to him and launching himself between your thighs. His lips encircled your clit and with a loud slurp, and he took enough of your arousal onto his tongue to coat the appendage completely. You couldn’t help the loud gasp that forced its way up your throat, Mary’s hand slapping over your open mouth to cut it off.

Now silenced, you allowed the moans to spill freely against his palm as he dove into your core, lapping at your clit, your lips and your entrance like he already knew what you liked, where you needed him. True to his word, Mary drank from you every drop of arousal you produced as if he hadn’t hydrated in days. His make up smeared all over you, a mixture of fake blood and whatever black and white paints he’d used for his dull skull make up. You could see the pink tinge of your lipstick still around his lips, getting messier by the second.

As he focussed on your clit, you howled against his palm, prompting him to remove himself from your core and shush you just inches from your face, warning you with darkened eyes to keep quiet, or he’d stop everything. You may have a big house, but Mary was still very aware of the dinner going on downstairs; he was not about to get thrown out of your house with a raging boner and smeared pussy juice all over his fucking face.

“Seems I can’t keep you quiet, doll... How do I shut you up, hm?” he asked, pressing his hand harder against your lips as he looked around your room for something to aid him. His eyes landed on the white lace beside you, draped over the corner of your bed, and his eyes glimmered with mischief.

With his free hand, he grabbed at your used panties, balling them up and stuffing them into your mouth until he was sure he’d plugged up the source of the noise.

“There. Now do me a favour, pretty girl...” he leaned in to whisper in your ear, the faint scent of your juices hitting your nose from the mess over his mouth and chin, “ shut the fuck up...”

You moaned into the lace in your mouth, muffled well enough that only Mary would be able to hear. The way he spoke to you, took command and degraded you made you so damn weak for him; because you had a weird feeling you were safe with Mary.

Absolutely, he was a son of a bitch, a fucking asshole, a total whore and the filthiest guy you had yet to meet but there was always an air of safety with him, of comfort and a mutual respect you didn’t seem to get with any of the assholes you’d fooled around with in the past. Mary wasn’t exactly your usual type – unwillingly a cliché, you only seemed to fool around with jocks or preppy guys – but that was because you had always, always lived up to daddy’s expectations. You fooled around with the guys your father would approve of, in the hope that someday he may approve of you in the same way.

Mary was the opposite of that and truthfully, the first guy you’d slept with that made you feel anything other than a dull buzz. For starters, he knew where the clit was and what to fucking do with it – but there was an electricity there, the spark of a passion you’d not yet felt with anyone else. Mary knew what buttons to press, how far he could go; he was running off pure instinct, listening to you, feeling you, understanding you.

He dove back between your legs, the jolt of pleasure as his tongue swept over your clit forcing your legs to clamp down around his head. His hands gripped onto your thighs, nails digging into the flesh as if encouraging you, taunting you to try and squeeze until you crushed him. Your moans were caught by the lace in your mouth, muffled but still as desperate as they had always been under Mary’s spell.

You had always thought there was no way a man could make you cum with just his tongue, but you thought the same thing of men in general, having been left unsatisfied without your own intervention during every sexual encounter with a man previously. But Mary had already proved you wrong when he’d made you squirt on his cock – you hadn’t even realised you could do that.

He was determined to make you do the same again, still feeling particularly thirsty for you. He persevered, swiping his tongue over your most sensitive of nerves, winding the coil in your abdomen tighter and tighter... The only warning you gave him was your hands gripping the roots of his hair, your hips shoving themselves against his face right before you squealed against the lace, biting down and once again, squirting as you came from Mary’s ministrations.

Mary growled with hunger as he caught as much as he could, drinking every drop he could reach, rutting against the tightness in his jeans for some kind of friction for himself, now too turned on to hold back. He didn’t stop for air, never pulled away from you until you were physically pushing at his head, overstimulated and in need of a reprieve.

Mary fell back, his hands catching himself on your carpet as he gasped for air, your cum dripping from his chin mixed with fake blood, white paints and your smeared lipsticks. You fell back against the mattress, pressing your fingertips into your eyes in a hope it might ground you as you came down. You made no move to remove the lace from your mouth; it served to still silence the whimpers of aftershocks that rippled through you, your limbs convulsing every few seconds after brief pauses of stillness.

You missed the smugness on Mary’s face as he licked what he could reach from around his mouth, smearing the rest on the back of his palm. Slowly, he crawled back to his knees, slinking his way over your chest and hovering above you like a serpent ready to wrap himself around you and squeeze your life essence from your body. His eyes looked predatory, and your heart rate that had begun to stabilise shot through the roof again.

Mary wasn’t finished.

“Think that’s my thirst quenched, doll...” he smirked, running his thumb along your stained bottom lip, noting how the red had transferred to the white lace gag. “Fuckin’ love that you can do that for me.”

You did your best to smile around the intrusion in your mouth, your eyes doing most of the emoting.

“But y’know what?” he teased, pressing kisses under your ear lobe as his hands travelled down to your breasts again, lightly tracing around your nipple and back up to your throat. “I’m fuckin’ hungry, now.”

With a strength you didn’t know he possessed judging by his scrawny little frame, he gripped the edges of his open leather jacket in one fist, lifted it with enough force that he could throw you backwards, back hitting the piles of stuffed animals and pillows. You yelped, again muffled by the cotton lace.

Mary just laughed. He stood up at the end of the bed, reaching to the back collar of his cut-off band tee and dragging it over his head until it fell to the ground.

“You want my cock, didn’t you doll?” he asked, keeping his voice relatively low so as not to raise suspicion from downstairs. You may have been gagged, but he wasn’t. He had to still be careful. But you nodded at him frantically, squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.

His hands worked the button and fly of his skinny jeans, shoving the tight material down his thighs until he could stand on them to pull one leg out, then the other. He whipped his briefs off pretty quickly too, freeing himself completely. You watched in delight as he fisted his length a couple of times – this was the first time you’d seen him bared to you like this, and frankly, you couldn’t seem to get enough...

His subtle definition over his skinny form had you drooling, eyes following the trail of hair from his stomach to his well-kept pubic hair. You whimpered at the sight of his cock, completely free from confinement, and his thighs that tensed as his fist squeezed at the head of his cock.

Without another word, Mary knelt on the bed, pulling your ankles apart to give him space to shuffle between them. He wanted unrestricted access to your core, and so began pulling the garter belt from your waist along with the garters themselves, so he would finally make progress and get to the waistband of your panties underneath.

This pretty red shade was gonna haunt him at night, he just knew it. He couldn’t get away with keeping it this time; his memory would have to do.

Now fully undressed, Mary had you right where he wanted you – naked and beneath him, with only his leather jacket on. You were the sexiest god damned thing he’d ever fucking seen.

He hovered above you, trailing his fingertips from your neck, down over your breasts and to your thigh, where he hooked his hand under your knee and hiked it up to his hip. He lowered himself, his bare cock sliding against the mess between your legs. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment he seemed to falter, as if looking for some kind of anomaly in your irises. Suddenly, Mary was pulling the panties from your mouth and instead, pushing his lips to yours for another engulfing kiss.

You held his head in place, raising from the pillows to meet him and move so effortlessly with him. You could taste yourself faintly on his lips, and eagerly you swiped your tongue over his for more of it.

Mary pressed his forehead to yours as he let the kiss fade out, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself as he lined the head of his cock up with your dripping centre. He hadn’t prepped you at all, and so he knew that first push he had to go slowly, he had to be careful – but he also knew you’d be tighter than last time, his fingers not yet working you open.

“Tell me you want me, baby...” he whispered to you, nuzzling his nose against yours, lost in bliss.

“I want you, Mare...” You didn’t even hesitate, whispering back. “Please...”

Mary kissed you again, using your lips to try and distract him from the squeeze of his cock pushing into you, slowly filling you so deliciously, so completely... With the strain of keeping his composure, his lips pressed harder against yours. Your fingernails dug into his head as you held him in place, whimpering into your kiss.

When he’d completely filled you, his hips flush against yours, he stilled for a moment and parted his lips from yours.

“You good, doll?” he asked, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. He found none, but he needed confirmation. This felt different to last time, more intimate than the bathroom encounter. Maybe it was because he was surrounded by your childhood bedroom and very aware of how vulnerable that made you to him. Maybe it was because he was able to actually see you this time. Maybe it was because he was pressed up against you, held by you in such a way that he hadn’t had in quite some time, his usual encounters with women fleeting and rushed.

But like Mary had said in the beginning; tonight, he wasn’t rushing.

“I’m good, Mare. Please, move,” you begged, rolling your hips beneath him for the slightest friction.

He obliged without hesitation now he had the green light, slowly rolling his hips to drag his length back through your sopping heat until he could push himself back in with a more deliberate and angled thrust. You gasped beneath him, his hand once again coming to slap over your lips to silence you.

“Careful, baby. Don’t make me gag you again, hm?” You nodded from underneath his palm as he found his pace, filling you over and over and deliciously hitting that same pressure point he’d found last time. “Good girl... You know I love the pretty noises you make for me, but they’re just for me, you hear?” he warned. You nodded again, slamming your head back down into the pillows beneath you, your hands running down to his shoulders to hold onto him.

His hand drifted from your mouth, instead finding purchase on your hip bone to hold you down against the mattress while he drove his cock deep inside you over and over again. Although a struggle, you managed to contain your moans for the time being, biting down on your bottom lip and squeezing his shoulders.

Mary, too, was struggling to keep quiet. He wanted nothing more than to roar in his bliss, to grunt and growl and lose his fucking mind between your legs but he held back, gritting his teeth around the noises he let escape. You saw his struggle, and figured now was as good a time as any to mess with him...

“You feel so good, Mare...” you whispered breathlessly. His brow visibly creased, his eyes boring into yours. “Filling me so perfectly. C-can feel you... in my fucking... stomach,” your sentence broke apart as his thrusts got harder and harder with each of your words, spurred on by your filth.

“ Fuck , baby girl... You tryna make me lose it, huh?” You just giggled beneath him, riling him up further.

“C’mon Mare, fuck me... Gag me if you gotta, but fuck, just lose it. Fuck me, Goore...” You begged.

Mary buried himself in your neck and growled against it, biting at the flesh and ramming his hips into you harder and harder. Your own whimpers slipped from within, and again, Mary had to cover your mouth with his hand to stop them getting any louder, drawing attention to you both.

Between his hand on your mouth and jaw and the other pinning your hips to the bed, you were stuck beneath him, unable to writhe and move much at all below the unforgiving Mary, who – like you had told him to – had lost it. The sight of him was maddening, intoxicating. It had you clenching your walls around him, earning muffled groans and huffs from above you.

“Fuckin’ love the way this pussy grips me, baby. Like you never wanna let me go...” he chuckled, gritting his teeth.

You were so close, that familiar tingle growing desperately by the second, heat pooling and spreading from your core through every limb, like magma spilling from a crater and coating everything in its path.

“M-Mary...” you whispered, nails digging into his back and dragging across the pale skin, leaving red scrapes in their path. He fucking loved that shit.

“What is it, baby? You gonna cum again for me? I get two outta you, this time?” he teased. “Go ahead, cream on my cock. I got you,” he promised; and you believed him.

Even with the grip on your body he had, Mary couldn’t stop you from curling in on yourself, that coil inside you seeming to wind you up like a clockwork toy until you eventually broke, pulling Mary against your chest and ripping his hand from your lips so you could kiss him, releasing all of your energy into a scream that was swallowed by his lips and tongue.

Mary’s hips never faltered, but he felt the way your pussy gripped him, the drag of each thrust so much harder between that and your hands pulling his body taught against your own. His resolve crumbled quickly, hips frantically smacking into yours until he could feel himself on the edge.

Mary hadn’t cum inside last time, and in the absence of a condom, he wasn’t sure you’d allow him. He’d understand, but with your lips trapping his from asking permission, he was beginning to panic, his end rushing towards him like a freight train.

He held off, somehow managing to keep himself from climaxing until your climax had dulled enough for him to pry you from his lips, smacking his forehead to yours as he grunted and took a breath.

“Doll, g-gonna cum... W-where?” he could barely ask a full sentence in the state he was in, but you understood despite the haze of a ridiculously powerful second orgasm.

“On... the pill...” you’d said between breathless gasps, still reeling from more aftershocks and surrounded by the suffocating heat of both your bodies entwined in each other. “Inside, Mare. Fill me,” you told him.

That was the spark to a puddle of gasoline... it ignited him instantly, barrelling headfirst into an orgasm he felt in every single nerve in his body.

You held him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as his forehead bruisingly pressed into yours, his jaw dropping as a loud moan began to rip from his chest. This time, it was you stuffing your white panties into his mouth, just in time to stop the noise reverberating on the walls and causing one hell of a scene for your parents to rush in on.

He didn’t still his hips, rather slowed them to savour the feeling of his spend filling you up, warming both your insides and his shaft. His cock was so damn sensitive now, every slow drag through his mess inside you having him jolt against you in overstimulation until finally, he’d calmed himself enough to be able to pull out and collapse into your chest, his leather jacket sticking to the both of you.

For a while, you lay like that; catching your breath and laying in the afterglow of a damn good fuck. It wasn’t until Mary rolled onto his side next to you and spat your panties out that you felt the relief of a cool breeze caused by his movement.

“I got no idea where you got that mouth of yours, darlin’, but it’s gonna get me in a lot of trouble...” he chuckled, running his fingers through his sweat-damp hair, pushing it from his forehead.

“Oh, my mouth? Seems to me, you’re the talker of the two of us, Goore,” you prodded an accusatory finger into his peck. Mary made a “meh” noise, falling into his back and rubbing his hands over his face, only to look at them and notice the mess of colours that transferred to his palms.

“Shit, was that a bathroom you popped out from earlier? I uh... could do with a hose down.” You laughed at him, nodding as you sat up.

“Me first, though. Heard a girl should always pee after sex,” you shrugged. “Helps... something? Whatever.” You stood, clenching your thighs together when you felt the mess that threatened to drip from you. Ah, that’s why.

Mary just chuckled at the way you waddled into your little en suite and waited patiently for his turn to spruce himself up in your shower, teasing you when he’d seen you emerge in a towel with your hair thrown up and out of the way.

Truthfully, he’d hoped maybe you’d have joined him – but perhaps you felt like that was a little too intimate. He had to remember his place, after all. Just a booty call, and booty calls don’t wash each other’s bodies and shampoo each other’s hair.

Now clean, Mary emerged in a towel with his hair still dripping. You hadn’t seen him without his signature face paint since he’d dropped out of school at 15, and he seemed somewhat vulnerable without it; like he’d stripped himself of a protective layer between him and the rest of the world.

Nevertheless, Mary dressed himself again and sat down at the edge of your bed, where you’d sat waiting for him in a fresh pair of sweatpants and a cami top – topped off, of course, by his leather jacket. Mary laughed at the sight.

“Am I not gonna get that back, doll?” he asked, nodding at the jacket as he buckled his belt back up.

“Not yet... Gonna need it, it’s cold out tonight,” you shrugged.

“Oh? We goin’ somewhere?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he dug into his back pocket for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one from the box and shoving it between his teeth.

You stood and took a step towards him, plucking the cigarette from his teeth and instead pushing it between your lips. “Can’t smoke inside, daddy will smell it.”

Mary’s lips curled into a wicked smile. You really were the hottest little minx he’d had the pleasure of fucking.

You strode over to the open window Mary had climbed in through, climbing out onto the roof and heading for the edge of the apex, climbing down it to the flat platform of the garage roof, safely tucked to the side of the house. Up there sat a little flowerpot filled with sand that you’d put there over two years ago – a makeshift ashtray for your little sneaky smokes.

Mary followed you, both of you taking a seat to the back of the garage roof, overlooking the street shrouded in dim streetlights.

“Little more rebellious than I thought, huh?” he joked, tapping the flowerpot with his foot. He reached over and took the cigarette from your lips, plucking another fresh one from his pack and pushing them both between his teeth. With a zippo lighter engraved with a bat, he lit them both and passed one to you.

“Thanks,” you smiled, taking your first lungful of nicotine. You sighed, content and relaxed.

“Ain’t nothin’ like a cigarette after an orgasm, is there?” Mary chuckled, the cigarette bobbing between his lips as he spoke around it.

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ for dramatic effect.

As you took another drag, you caught sight from the corner of your eye your parents shaking the hands and kissing the cheeks of his deputy mayor and wife. Their meal must be over, the goodbye pleasantries exchanged as your parents wave off the car pulling out of your driveway. You watch quietly as they turn and head back to the porch beneath you, out of sight from where you sat.

But Mary isn’t watching them. He’s watching you , with a creased brow and a million questions swarming around his mind. It’s not until you turn to look back at him that you notice, and you feel like you’ve somehow been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Alright, I gotta ask ‘cause this is killin’ me,” he said, taking another drag of his cigarette and mulling over how to word this without causing any kind of offense – something Mary usually got wrong. “What is it about me that you seem so attracted to?”

His question caught you off guard, your brow creasing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well... I assume that in order to sleep with me – twice – you'd have to be somewhat attracted to me, right?” he shrugged. You nodded, urging him to continue, as if you still didn’t understand his question. “So, I guess what I’m asking is... what does a girl like you see in a guy like me?”

Your expression darkened, an anger and defensiveness bubbling away inside you. This was exactly the kind of shit you expected; Mary had stereotyped you, just like the rest of them. You thought he might be different, that as an outcast himself who was stereotyped by the entire fucking town he might have given you the same leeway you had him. But no, here he was, putting you back in your neat little box.

“What do you mean... a girl like me?”

Mary noticed the change in your demeanour, but he was just being honest. He didn’t want to upset you, why would he? But he was overcurious, and perhaps, just a little too honest.

“Oh, come on, doll... First night I met you, you were wearing that pretty little sundress and out with your ‘girlfriends’. Then tonight, I climb in through your window like some shitty high school movie and find your bedroom is covered in lace and frills and pink. You’ve got the trinkets and the pretty little ornaments... and your bed is covered in stuffed animals, like you’ve had that collection since you were a kid. You and I ain’t the same, we’re so polar opposite so logically, it doesn’t make sense,” he rambled. All the while, your blood boiled hotter and hotter, anger turning to rage.

“I mean, you’re daddy’s little girl, so sweet and pretty and the town loves you. You’re too damn good for a ‘shit for brains’, ‘punk-ass kid’ like me.” Those had been direct quotes from a couple of cops who’d gotten to know Mary’s face over the years.

“I am not ‘ daddy’s little girl’,” you seethed, “And you don’t know a fucking thing about me, Goore. You’re just like all of them, treating me like some fucking kid who can’t think for herself.”

“I never said that, I just don’t understand why-” he started, but you cut him off.

“No that’s just it, you don’t understand. That’s all people see of me, being his daughter...” you stood, shoving the cigarette between your teeth and walking to the edge of the roof, sitting there and dangling your feet over the edge. Mary stayed put for a second, bewildered and letting you cool off for a moment. Clearly, he’d struck a nerve. Guilt wracks through him, and he awkwardly rubs the back of his head, his hair still damp but now chilled in the night air.

With a sigh, he holds his cigarette between his teeth and gets up, coming to sit down beside you without a word. He notes your scowl, and the way you avert your eyes from him.

“So, go on... what’s the deal with your dad, then?” he asked, looking out ahead of him as he took another drag. He watches you fold your arms over your chest, the leather of his jacket squeaking as it rubs over itself.

“Treats me like a kid, like I’m not a grown-ass woman with her own brain,” you sighed, looking down at your feet swinging over the edge of the garage. “I gotta be this perfect girl all the time, because that’s the image he created for me; the all-American, perfect family. It’s just part of his fucking political career. I don’t get a say, I never have.”

Mary’s nose wrinkles as he thinks to himself, not quite understanding. Surely you were old enough to have your own mind, or at the very least, to redecorate.

“Well, if you think that’s not you, why do you go along with it? You play the part very well...” he says, watching you from beside you.

Your head snaps to look at him, a fresh anger brewing again, like someone had turned the heat right up on the stove.

“You think so? Gee, thanks, Goore,” you mocked him in your best girl-ish, high-pitched bimbo voice.

“I just meant-”

“You don’t get it. Whatever. Why would you? I never asked you to give a fuck about my shit anyway.”

Now Mary was getting pissed off, his mind working its way into overdrive as he looked at you and your little temper tantrum, thought about your life of privilege – something he’d never had. You had money, a big house, nice clothes, fucking bodyguards at the drop of a hat. And he’d had an alcoholic mother, a deadbeat father and a lifetime of people hating him for his love of metal and macabre. Your lives were total fucking parallels, and he couldn’t understand why you got so angry at your life when you had it all.

So, he scoffed at you. “’Your shit’, huh? Sure, your struggle sound real tough, Barbie.”

“Barbie?!” you shrieked, uncaring if someone had heard. “I’m fucking Barbie, now?”

“Just seems to me like you don’t know privilege when you see it, doll. Even when it’s right under your nose.” He could hear it in his voice; he was being an asshole, he had no idea what your life was truly like, but he was so defensive of his own upbringing, his own issues that he wasn’t willing to see that you had any. To him, your life was perfect, and you were just being a brat.

“Fuck you, Goore,” you spat through gritted teeth. Mary smacked his lips, nodding in anger.

“Yep,” he said, shoving his cigarette between his teeth again, now burnt over halfway down. “Y’know what? I’m gonna go. This was fun, Barbie, but this Ken’s gotta split.” He slapped his hands against his thighs before swinging his legs up to the rooftop and standing, dusting himself off.

“Yeah, maybe you should. Don’t think we’re exactly compatible...” you scowled, pulling your knees up to your chest as you smoked, refusing to look at him.

He waits a moment, chewing over whether he should say anything else, try and fix this animosity and maybe even apologise. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words... Not when he didn’t see what he’d done wrong. Instead, he crouched down beside you, holding his hand out. You turned to stare at it for a moment, wondering what on earth he wanted you to do. Did he expect you to hold it? To say sorry? To go with him?

No, none of those.

“My jacket, Barbie,” he deadpanned, curling his fingers in a ‘gimme’ motion.

You didn’t speak, instead holding your cigarette between your teeth and pulling the leather from your body. The chill hit your skin immediately, but your stubbornness refused to let it show. Instead, you slammed the jacket back in his hand, and turned away from him.

“There, we both got our shit back. Now you’ve got no reason to come back,” you told him.

Mary shook his head, smacking his lips one more time before he headed over to the trellis he’d climbed up, and made his way back down, avoiding the windows and making sure he wouldn’t be caught when he climbed back over the fence.

Just as he got to his van, he turned back around to see you climbing back through your window, shoving the frame closed and storming off into your room where he couldn’t see you. Mary shook his head with an eye roll, yanking his van door open and throwing his jacket into the passenger side before he climbed in and settled into his seat. He was about to turn the key in the ignition, to get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible, but he stopped himself.

Instead, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel, cursing himself out.

“Fucking idiot, man...” he chastised, throwing his head back against the battered headrest of his seat. He sat there for a while, replaying your conversation in his head. He thought of every single way that could have gone differently, how he could have handled that better rather than resorting to his usual defensive self.

After about ten minutes of self-reflection – and frankly, self-loathing – he turned to look back at the bedroom window he’d climbed through that night, just in time to see your light switch off.

What he didn’t know, was that you were still watching him from the darkness of your bedroom... or, at least, his van; parked where it had been all evening. He hadn’t even made a move to turn on his engine, sitting in the street in silence.

But now, seeing your light switch off, Mary sighed to himself and found his keys to switch on the ignition. His engine roared to life, as did his stereo that was tuned to some kind of heavy metal. His headlights switched on, and you watched from your window as his van drove off into the night. Tears streaked down your face, and you became overwhelmed by that suffocating feeling of your only morsel of freedom running away from you, after you’d managed to push him away.

You’d never felt more trapped in your all-American dream-life than you did now.

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hungermakesmonsters · 2 months

Text

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Seventeen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing too warning worthy, just some really creepy vibes at the end. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 4.5k

A/N : happy fic-friday!

MASTER LIST

Chapter Seventeen

You sat in silence, too paralysed by fear to think rationally. There were things you knew you should be doing, like looking out of the window and trying to figure out where you were and, perhaps more importantly, where you were going. But, really, what did it matter? You’d always known that it would come down to this, that you’d end up his prisoner and, now, you knew for certain that no one was going to save you.

Your eyes drifted to the rear window, not looking at him, not even acknowledging his existence.

The streets of New York all looked the same at night; all bright lights and crowds of people. The only thing you could tell was that you didn’t seem to be leaving the city. Somehow that made things worse, knowing that you were still so close to Billy but you might as well have been a million miles away.

And, suddenly, despite your situation, Billy was all you could think about. He was probably at Josie’s by now, he’d probably realised that you were gone and that he’d never see you again. He was probably so angry.

“You’ll soon get tired of giving me the silent treatment,” he stated with a confidence that made you sick to your stomach, “but I’m not going to rush you. I have patience and we have the rest of forever.”

Forcing a breath, you tried everything you could to keep a blank face and not give into the scared helplessness that was filling you. Your gaze remained focused on the window and the streets you’d been so excited to explore only a few weeks ago.

A sense of claustrophobia took hold the moment the limo turned into an underground parking structure, darkness filling the car and making you feel more trapped than ever. Then the car stopped.

You didn’t move, didn’t even tear your eyes away from the window.

Until he reached for you.

His cold hand on yours caused you to flinch and pull away, only to find fingers tightly gripping your good wrist.

“You’re going to behave for me,” he told you, the slightest hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“Or what?”

You weren’t sure what came over you in that moment but you were just as surprised by your sudden snap as he was.

“Do I have to remind you what will happen to your family?” He asked, leaning closer, gripping tighter. “Or maybe I should remind you what I’m capable of...”

“You don’t scare me anymore, Mr Drake,” you answered back, his name spat from your mouth like venom despite knowing you were only making things worse.

“Please, you should call me Justin since you’re going to be my wife,” he offered with a smile that made you feel ill. “And you should be scared of what could happen if you try to refuse me again.”

“Am I supposed to care what happens to my parents after they sold me to you?”

You didn’t expect the laugh that followed, a sound that caused the dread in your stomach to continue to build.

“And what about Irene? You still care about her, right?”

The sound of your sister’s name on his lips was almost enough to cause your heart to stop. It was a lie, it had to be. She’d been gone for years, no one knew where she was or how to find her.

“You’re lying.” You decided to call his bluff.

He let go of your arm to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. A moment later you felt bile rise in the back of your throat at the picture he showed you. It had been years since you’d seen her, but there was no mistaking that it was your older sister. The sickening feeling only continued to increase as he started to swipe through pictures; pictures of a family, of two young children and a telltale bump on her belly.

“If you’d prefer I could take what’s owed me from her instead, along with your nephews and your unborn niece.” He put the phone away, no longer needing it to threaten you. He’d made his point.

“You’re a monster.”

He laughed again.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea.” He leaned to open the door and then gave a wave of his hand, indicating that he wanted you to move. “It’s up to you whether we do this the easy way or the hard way.”

For a few seconds you remained completely still, defiant.

Then you moved.

What choice did you have? You knew he could bend you to his will if he wanted to, you knew he could hurt you and those closest to you. More than that, you knew that you were completely alone. No one was going to look for you. No one was coming to your rescue.

“Good choice,” you heard him mutter as he followed you out of the limo.

You bristled at the touch of his hand against your lower back, guiding you towards the elevator but you moved regardless, knowing better than to think you could outrun a vampire in the gloomy parking lot.

The elevator doors slid shut, trapping you with him and his driver, watching as he swiped a key card for the penthouse floor. Your heart lurched along with the elevator and, despite wanting to remain steely and unphased by the situation, you found yourself pulling your arms across your chest.

It was only then that you realised your suitcase was nowhere to be seen. Try as you might, you couldn’t remember what had happened to it. It had been with you when you left Josie’s but then you’d walked into Krista and -

And after that, everything was hazy.

“Where are my things?” You asked. “I had a suitcase.”

“Gone. You don’t need it,” he answered.

Your chest tightened, squeezing out a breath. Your eyes fixed forward, unblinking, not wanting to show him how upset you were. You weren’t bothered about your things, about your purse or phone, but your heart was breaking over the stuffed beagle that meant so much to you, the last little piece of Billy that you had.

“I want it,” you demanded defiantly.

“Why?” He asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Because it’s mine. If you want me to stay here and not cause problems, then you need to find it.” You glared at him as he spoke, as if there was really anything you could do to hurt him.

He seemed disinterested but shrugged before giving his driver a glance. The man nodded, understanding his orders without a word even passing between them. Though, by now, you knew it was probably too late. You’d probably never see Bill the Beagle again.

As he led you into the penthouse suite, his driver disappeared back into the elevator, but you weren’t so naive as to think that you were alone with him. He’d have his goons somewhere near, in case he needed them. If you wanted to even think about trying to get away from him again, you were going to have to bide your time.

Your stomach dropped when you were led into a bedroom. You lingered in the doorway, leaving as much space between you and him as you could and, of course, he noticed.

“There’s no need to be shy,” he told you, barely holding back a smirk.

“I’m not being shy,” you answered back.

His gaze darkened.

“I can’t say that I like this new attitude you seem to have developed. I can see now why William Russo had to resort to physical means to keep you in line,” he stated, gesturing at your broken arm.

“You don’t know anything about Billy,” you snapped through gritted teeth.

“Oh, Billy is it?” He asked, looking at you like he could look right through you, like he could tell every little thought in your head, and he didn’t like what he saw. “Got close to him, did you?”

You felt your cheeks start to burn while your hands clenched to fists at your side, and he noticed it all.

“More than that?” He asked, though he didn’t need to hear an answer. “You’re lucky I’m not a jealous man, otherwise I might have taken it out on poor dear Billy. But, then, why should I be jealous of a vampire who likes to play with his food?”

“You know nothing about it or him.”

“Oh, I know plenty,” he answered back. “Enough to know that he’ll have a new girl in his employ, bleeding for him by the end of the week and probably in his bed just as quick, just like he replaced your friend Krista...”

You shook your head, insolent, even though some part of you wondered if he was right. Perhaps Lissa had already put out an advertisement for your replacement.

But you weren’t given time to linger on the thought. He closed the distance between you, his cold fingers grasping your chin, turning your head one way and then the other as he inspected your neck.

“Did he bite you?” He asked and you stayed silent, so he resorted to threats. “Do I have to strip you and check for myself?”

The threat was enough to break you. “No. He didn’t bite me.”

“Good. Now get changed out of those clothes, so we can have supper and discuss our future together.” A wave of his hand led your gaze to an outfit that had been set out for you on the bed.

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

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Billy asked as if he thought Karen might have some magic answer to explain everything that was going on.

She’d explained about Madani, about the questions the Homeland agent had about Billy, as well as the warning that she’d offered outside the hospital. But she only knew what you had shared with her and the little that Madani had been willing to say, and it wasn’t a lot.

And it certainly wasn’t enough for Billy.

“I don’t know, I guess because she didn’t believe it, she didn’t think it was worth worrying you with it,” Karen offered, lifting her glass and taking a slow drink.

Billy and Frank had asked around, hoping someone had seen you while Karen called Madani, but the most they got was from a drunk who thought you might have gotten into a limousine with friends. By the time they sat to wait for the Homeland agent, Billy was crawling out of his skin.

“And you’re sure she didn’t believe it?” He asked, again trying to get an answer that he knew Karen couldn’t possibly know.

“Well, she saw Krista, didn’t she?” Frank offered. “Hard to think you killed someone who’s still walkin’ around.”

“But, what if -” he started and stopped as Karen dared to reach across the table, placing a hand on his arm.

“Billy, she didn’t leave because she thought you’d done something wrong,” she offered.

“No, she left because I’m like... this...”

Frank bristled at his side but didn’t say anything, though Karen could tell just how much effort it took for him to bite his tongue. She’d seen them have that argument before, and she’d been the one left to console Frank afterwards.

“We’ll find her, Billy,” Karen tried again, pulling back her hand.

“I just -” he started but stopped the moment he noticed a woman in a suit approaching them, eyeing him with very obvious suspicion.

Karen’s eyes followed Billy’s, and she quickly stood up.

“Agent Madani.”

“Ms Page,” she greeted Karen before uncomfortably eyeing Billy and Frank.

“Something’s happened and we need your help,” Karen tried to explain, waving a hand, trying to get Madani to sit.

Between the three of them, they explained what had happened as far as they knew, up to the point where they found your suitcase on the sidewalk. An uncomfortable silence fell while Madani took it all in.

“How can you be sure she didn’t just abandon it?” Madani asked, glancing at the case.

“She wouldn’t do that,” Billy answered, his hand resting on the stuffed beagle. “Why would she leave her phone and purse?”

Madani looked at him for a few moments, saying nothing.

“And how do I know that any of this is true?” She finally asked. “How do I know that this isn’t some elaborate ruse? How do I know she isn’t dead somewhere and all of this is to stop me from asking questions later on?”

“I didn’t kill her. I haven’t killed anyone. I -” Billy started to snap.

“Bill,” Frank warned, silencing him.

“You’ve got a badge, right?” Karen asked. “The store across the street has got a security camera pointed at the street, you can take a look at the last hour and see if we’re telling the truth or not.”

Frank struggled to fight back a grin, nudging Karen with his elbow, impressed with her. Madani on the other hand, seemed a little less enthusiastic.

“It’s not that simple, I’d need a warrant, and -”

“We don’t have time -” Karen started.

“Fuck this,” Billy muttered, getting to his feet.

Frank followed suit. “What’re you doin’, Bill?”

“I’m going to get the security footage myself,” he answered.

“Hey, if you think I’m going to sit back while you commit a crime -” Madani was on her feet a second later.

“The more time we waste, the harder it’s going to be to find her,” Billy snapped. “And I’m not going to lose her. You can either help or you can stay out of my way, but I’m warning you, Agent Madani, I’m not someone you want as an enemy.”

Without another word, he started towards the door, Madani and Frank following after while Karen opted to hang back with your suitcase.

Billy made his way across the street, not caring if he was followed; he was determined to find out what happened, with or without help. With the way he was feeling, he’d tear the store owner apart if he even tried to get in his way. And Frank seemed to realise that. It was why he didn’t let Billy get more than a few feet ahead of him.

And Madani followed because she was almost hoping that he’d do something to prove her right about him.

“How we doin’ this then?” Frank asked just outside the little corner store, stopping Billy in his tracks.

“That’s up to Agent Madani,” Billy answered, glaring at the Homeland agent.

For a few seconds she looked at the two vampires, hating that she was being put on the spot but realising that there was nothing that she could do to stop them from looking at the footage one way or another.

“Fine, wait here,” she answered, as she moved to step past Billy.

“What? If you think I’m -” Billy was silenced by Frank’s hand on his shoulder.

Madani waited for a beat before entering the store alone.

The bell over the door chimed, signalling her arrival to the young guy behind the counter who looked up from his phone for a split-second before dropping his gaze again. Madani strode towards the counter, reaching into her jacket for her badge and ID. For a few seconds she didn’t say anything, instead she listened to the faint sounds coming from the assistant's phone.

‘If vampire’s keep taking all the wealth and making it so honest, hard working humans can’t find a decent job that pays a decent wage -”

She cleared her throat, having heard all she needed to. Anti-vampire sentiment was still widespread and there were plenty of online commentators willing to try to make a quick buck from it, and in this situation, it was something she could use to her advantage.

“Agent Madani, Homeland Security,” she stated. The kid looked ready to shit himself at the sight of her badge. “I’m going to need to see the CCTV footage from the front of the store for the last couple of hours.”

“I -” for a moment he struggled to find the words, “- I think I’d need to ask my boss.”

“Is he here right now?”

“No, he lives in Jersey...”

Madani let out a sigh, letting the kid see her frustration.

“Listen, I’ll level with you, I’m tracking a dangerous vampire,” she told him and saw a flicker of anger on his face. “I think they’ve hurt a lot of people, a lot of young women about your age...”

“Fucking bloodsuckers,” he muttered.

“If I could see that footage, I might be able to catch him and, if I do...” she shrugged, “well, there’d be nothing to stop you from posting the whole thing online. I hear you can make a lot of money with stuff like this.”

Madani could practically see dollar signs lighting up behind his eyes. At any other time it might have bothered her just how easily influenced the kid was, but time was of the essence and she needed to know if Russo was lying to her.

“Yeah, okay,” the kid relented, “it’s in the back here.”

He gave a quick glance around the store, making sure it was still empty before showing her into the backroom. The set up was hardly state of the art, but it was easy enough to use - in fact, she’d used several similar systems in the past, so it didn’t take her long to scrub through the video and find the exact moment that you left Josie’s. The picture quality wasn’t brilliant and the poor lighting on the street didn’t help, but you were easy enough to spot with your suitcase.

Madani watched as someone deliberately stepped into your path before taking you by the arm and leading you towards a waiting limousine. She managed to get half of the licence plate of the limo and snapped a quick photo of the blurry figure with her phone while the kid’s back was turned, then she stood.

“Is it on there?” He asked.

“No,” she answered, forcing another sigh, “looks like the bastard managed to slip by just out of range of the camera.”

His disappointment was palpable.

“But that isn’t to say that he won’t come back,” Madani offered, “so it’d be best if you didn’t mention this to anyone, otherwise you might spook him and... well, I wouldn’t want to see you charged with obstruction after you’ve been so helpful.”

He nodded and she didn’t waste any time in making her excuses to get out of there.

Billy was pacing by the time she stepped back outside, both men seemed to be engaged in a heated debate about something, and it looked as though Russo was on the losing end of it.

“All I’m sayin’ is -”

“What did you find out?” Billy asked, ignoring Frank and quickly refocusing all of his attention on Madani.

“I’m not sure,” Madani stated, pulling out her phone, “she left the bar and someone met her outside before leading her to a limousine. There wasn’t a struggle but... something didn’t seem right...”

“You think someone was compellin’ her?” Frank asked.

“Maybe. I can’t be sure. I got a partial plate and I’m going to call in some favours to run it, see if I can figure out who owns the limo and where it went,” Madani explained before holding up her phone to the men, showing the blurry image she’d captured. “But, while we wait, we should try to figure out who this is.”

“Fuck,” Billy grit out almost instantly.

“Goddamnit,” Frank let out a second later.

“Well, that was quicker than expected. Care to fill me in?” Madani asked.

“I knew I should’ve killed her,” Billy muttered, forcing an uneven breath, struggling to stay in control of himself.

“It’s Krista Dumont, alive and well, and still pissin’ everyone off,” Frank answered, though his gaze stayed on Billy. “You went lookin’ for her, right, Bill? Know where she might be now?”

“Yeah, I know where she lives,” Billy answered, his attention quickly turning to Madani. “You wanted to know what happened to my previous employees, right? Well, you’re about to find out.”

Without another word, he started moving back towards where he’d left his car. Frank and Madani quickly followed after, the latter on her phone calling in those favours to try and track down the limo.

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

You were finally left alone to change, though you spent at least five minutes searching the room, looking for anything that might help you escape. As much as you’d felt resigned to this eventuality, just being around him again had panic and dread gnawing at your insides. You had to get away.

The first thing you did was check the windows, despite already knowing that you were too high up to even consider it an option. In fact, the penthouse suite was so high up that the people on the street below seemed like ants.

Next thing you checked was the room’s phone by lifting it to your ear. No dial tone. No cord connecting it to the wall. If you could get a cord from one of the other phones in the suite, you might be able to call for help. You filled away the thought for later.

Then you checked the drawers and the wardrobe, feeling sick to your stomach when you found several outfits that were obviously for you. They looked like the sort of clothes your mother would have picked for you and not at all like the outfits you’d enjoyed wearing over the last six months. Even the dress he’d laid out on the bed for you felt uncomfortably conservative - though you supposed you should be glad he wanted you to dress that way.

Shaking your head you tried to force the thought away and concentrate on finding things that might be helpful.

Wooden hangers could perhaps be turned into weapons but... well, that was a line you didn’t want to think about crossing until you really had to.

“Dinner is here,” you heard his voice from behind the door. “Unless you want me to come in there and dress you myself, I suggest you hurry up.”

As much as you wanted to be stubborn, as much as you wanted to cause him as much trouble as possible, the sorry fact of the matter was that you were scared. And you had every reason to be scared. So, you gave up your search and quickly changed into the clothes that he had left for you and stepped out into the suite.

The main room was lit by lamps, creating a romantic glow that made you feel sick.

Instead of looking at him and the table, you glanced around the room, taking note of where the phone was and how close the door was. But your host seemed to realise what you were doing.

“Sit,” he ordered, pulling out a chair at the table.

You made a point of walking around him and taking a different seat.

“You’re starting to test my patience,” he remarked, taking his own seat.

“Already?” You remarked off-handedly, reminding him of the comment he’d made not two hours ago in the limo.

“Did Billy Russo let you talk back like this?”

“He never gave me a reason to,” you answered without hesitation, despite knowing it wasn’t strictly true.

He gave a grunt of irritation before uncovering your food. You looked down at the plate, your lips curling at the sight; tuna steak and salad. While he started to eat, you simply stared down at the plate. Even though you knew you’d never see him again, let alone bleed for him, the thought of eating anything from his list of prohibited foods. It took Justin Drake a minute to realise that you weren’t eating, and then came the frustrated sigh.

“Are you going to fight me on everything?” He asked.

“I don’t eat tuna.”

“Since when?”

“Since I decided I don’t like it.”

“Then eat the salad,” he snapped.

You took small consolation in the fact that you were already getting to him, showing him that you were going to be far more trouble than you were worth but, again, you knew better than to push too far too soon. He could hurt you. He would hurt you if he felt like it.

Reluctantly, you began to pick at the salad with your fork, silently wondering if you’d be able to sneak any of the cutlery away from the table.

You ate in silence, neither speaking until you were both done. He’d poured you a glass of wine, but it had been left mostly untouched and, thankfully, he hadn’t thought to order dessert.

“Tomorrow we’ll be travelling home,” he informed you. “The wedding is being arranged as we speak and, by this time next week, you’ll be my wife, so you should rid yourself of any childish notions of escaping or denying me.”

“I won’t marry you.”

“Yes you will.”

“Why? Why any of this? Why me?” You asked, anger quickly starting to bubble over. “I’ll never stop fighting you, I’ll never be yours. How is any of this worth it to you?”

He just laughed at that, sitting back in his chair and lifting his wine glass to his lips, taking a slow drink before even thinking to answer you.

“Because it’s fate.”

“What?” Had you heard him correctly? Had he called it fate?

“It was never about the money - that was just to keep your parents in line - it’s always been about you, my sweet girl.” He continued to smile as your skin started to crawl. “I knew I had to have you the first time I set eyes on you.”

Your stomach continued to churn and tie itself in knots as you thought how long ago that must have been.

“Why?” You dared to ask even though you were terrified of how he might answer.

“You look just like your great-great-great-grandmother.” He paused as if he was expecting you to say something but the shock had rendered you silent. “She was like you, she refused me what should have been mine, and she paid the price.”

It felt like your blood had turned to ice in your veins, not sure exactly what he was telling you, but not wanting to ask for clarification either. You remained silent, wondering how long he’d been tormenting your family like this and if you were the first to find yourself in this situation with him.

“I always regretted it, once she was gone I mean. I should have handled things differently, but I was young back then, barely past my first century...” he sounded almost wistful, like he was recounting a fond memory. “But then I found you. And I won’t make the same mistake twice. You will bend to my will. You will be my wife in every sense of the word and, when you’ve finally accepted your place at my side, I will give you the greatest gift imaginable.”

You didn’t have to ask to know what he was implying.

“No,” your head shook. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“My sweet girl, what makes you think you have a choice?”

End Note : ... I'm not even sorry about ending it like that, I'm having too much fun getting things ready for the final confrontation. I think that there's probably only two more chapters left of this one now (depending on how carried away I get with the next part), so I hope you all enjoy what I've got planned. Also I'm sorry I picked that name for the bad guy...

As ever, thank you so much for reading/liking/reblogging/screaming at me in the comments! Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock

@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad

@vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17

@sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim

@countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl

@rosey1981 @benbarnesprettygurl @rachlovesactors @robertthehoover @ladyblacky

@goldenbeskar @mydarlingnana @strwbrrynd @cheshirecat484 @jvanilly

@ashy-kit @jazzclubprincess @arwensloanebarnes

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #(ob)ts ff #billy russo imagine

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luveline · 2 years

Note

a request for kisses before dinner. maybe ave is at school and learns what a divorce is and starts panicking at home thinking steve and r are gonna get divorced and she’s going to have to move away and they have to assure her they’re v much in love and that won’t be happening. srry if that’s too specific. luv ur writing!

this is the loveliest idea! hope this is okay, thanks so much! mom!reader 1.1k

Avery's been a mouse since Steve picked her up from school.

"What's wrong with your sister?" he asks Bethie.

Bethie, sitting carefully on the counter with a picture book in her lap, glances up. "Which one?"

Steve nods toward Avery where she's sulking at the kitchen table.

"I don't know," Bethie says, frowning.

Steve washes the last plate in the sink and puts it with the rest of the dishes on the draining board. He wipes his hands dry and lifts Bethie off of the counter without a word. She squirms under his arm but doesn't complain, only clambers into the chair next to Avery and turns back to her book. He runs his hand over her hair lovingly.

You appear in the doorway with a freshly changed Dove in your arms. You're kissing her forehead in the same place over and over, and you both look ridiculously happy. He falls in love for the millionth time.

There's nothing to do until dinner is ready, so Steve sits himself down in the chair next to Avery's at their huge dinner table and holds out his hand.

She passes hers over reluctantly.

"Ave," he says, covering her small hand in both of his, hiding it away, "you okay, baby?"

She nods miserably.

You look up from your lovefest, mildly alarmed by his question. "What?"

Steve gets more worried than some parents would think is reasonable when the girls draw in on themselves, and the older Avery gets, the more complicated her emotions. It's like she's learning new knots and Steve's desperately trying to untangle them, neither of them with any instructions.

He doesn't ask, maybe he should, but after a while you get used to just picking your kids up. Steve slides his hands under Avery's armpits and pulls her cleanly into his lap, the soft cotton of her nightie pooling under her. It's too long. She's still so small.

Safely transported to his thigh, Steve wraps Avery in a proper dad hug, biceps sealing her in.

"There's no escaping me," he says quietly. He rubs her back. "Now tell me, what's going on with my Ave? You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I don't want you to be fine, baby, I want you to be good," he says gently. "Me and mom can't fix everything, but we can try."

She squints at him. Steve starts to think he might be laying it on thick for no reason, and that Avery's simply tired from a long week. He twists his neck and tilts his head to face her, her ear pressed to the place under his heart. She turns her nose into his t-shirt and sniffs. It takes Steve a moment to realise she's crying, her tiny shoulders shaking beneath his hand.

He's shocked. His gaze jumps to yours and you tuck Dove under your chin, pulling an impossibly agile mom-move to squat by his side.

"Avery?" you ask softly.

Steve is used to tantrums. Softer moments like this aren't as easy to manage. Avery isn't sobbing because she's overwhelmed, or because she isn't getting her way, she's crying with no source in sight. She's sad. Steve pulls her tight to his chest and starts to dot kisses into her hair, rubbing a useless line up and down the short length of her arm.

"What's the matter?" he asks, regrettably ruined by his daughter's emotions. "Tell daddy."

"You know Pauline's mommy got a dee-vorce?" she asks.

You nudge in. "What did she get, baby?"

"A dee-vorce."

"A divorce," you say thoughtfully. "And what do you think of that?"

She pulls her face from Steve's shirt, cheeks shining with tears, and struggles to talk. "I don't want you to get one too," she breathes out.

"Sweetheart, we're not," you say.

"Because Pauline said her dad's moving away," she continues, looking up at Steve with a startling, crushing desperation. "You have to stay here."

Steve's eyes widen, and he laughs though it's absolutely not what he means to do. He wants to be the serious and sincere father, the kind who reassures with a strong, unwavering passion. But he's shocked, and a little freaked. He doesn't like seeing his baby wound up.

"Avery, I'm not going anywhere. Never ever," he stresses.

"But I–"

"I love your mom so much I'd cry all the time if we weren't together, you know that? I can't live without mommy."

"Right," you rush to say, "me and daddy love each other more than anything."

"Paulie said that her mommy said that, that they still love each other but her daddy has to go. I don't–" Poor Avery starts breathing shallow, eyes locked onto Steve's face with more urgency than he knows how to handle. "I don't want you to go."

He has to fight tears.

"Avery," he says. He takes her face into both hands. "Avery, listen to me. I'm not going anywhere."

Dove starts fussing and the tension of Avery's breakdown abates enough for Steve to remember Bethie at the table, staring at the hubbub in quiet unhappiness. You put Dove down and she wanders off, your freed hands reaching for Avery's bare legs. You press your thumbs into her knees, sighing. "Sweetheart, sometimes parents move away, and it's very sad. Pauline must be really scared right now, and you have to be extra nice to her because she needs it but," —you shake her little legs— "me and dad are forever, okay? Please don't worry about it. I promise daddy isn't going anywhere, I can't imagine it."

Steve can't imagine it either, a life different than this. He takes care of his girls every single day. They cry and they smile and they laugh, it's the most precious thing on earth. There isn't a reality where he willingly leaves. He can't imagine a life without your hair tickling his cheeks in the morning when he wakes, without Avery's shrieking laughter under his squeezing hands, without Bethie's too smart smiles as he reads to her, or without the sleeping weight of Dove against his chest at nap time. Everyday like clockwork, he wants this life.

"You're staying here?" Avery asks him, looking up.

He glances between her and Beth and you, catches sight of the back of Dove's head where she's talking nonsense to the teddy in her lap across the kitchen.

"I'm staying here. I'm not going anywhere," he says. It's an easy promise.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for making my parents watch the first two Saw movies with me?

A little context: I am 17M, and with my mother (M) and father (F). They’ve always been upset with how isolated I am to them, which is because every time I bring up an interest to them (Spider-Man, Hollow Knight, TF2, Batman, Dead Cells, etc.), they shut it down since they don’t like them. As such, I stop talking to them about that stuff and just go to my friends about it, irl and online.

They wanted me to find something we all would like, so I considered the following: M likes her mystery and cop dramas, F likes his loud action movies, and I like horror. Hey! What if we watch all the Saw movies(except 3D because it sucks)? They have all three of those elements, I thought, and they were willing to give it a shot. I warned them of any nudity or sex (barely any), or any intense scenes, and gore. M likes blood and gore, but F doesn’t. But it’s a compromise, I thought.

We sat down on a weekend and watched the first one, which went pretty well. M liked it, and F was still willing to watch. We would wait a week before watching Saw 2, and I was excited. I thought this would go well, and we finally found something we can all enjoy.

However, after watching Saw 2 all the way through, my parents were upset and said we weren’t watching them anymore. They said I wasn’t old enough for these films and it’s concerning how interested I am in horror. This wasn’t it for them, and I wouldn’t be allowed to watch R-rated movies from that point on. They hated the movie and all its gore and blood, and that this was just me making them watch these bloody movies because I wanted them to.

I was really disappointed, so I just said “ok” and went to my room. They came back to talk to me, but all that did was make me cry. This was yet another interest shot down, and I made them upset for the rest of that night. I was considered selfish for doing all of this, and tbh, I think I was. I was thinking that maybe if I could put my horror interest away and listen to them, they would feel better. But it wouldn’t make me happy.

I have no idea if I’m TA or not. So I’ll ask y’all. Thanks in advance for everything.

- 🦅 (for later)

#aita #am i the asshole

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memyselfandmya · 2 months

Text

YASAMMY WEEK Day 4: PROPOSAL/WEDDING

I'm a little bit behind with this one, took some time to get into the mindset but credit goes to @i-sing-i-still-sing for the concept! Without you, I'd still be struggling.

@yasammyweek

“Ben, I’m nervous,” Yasmina says, sitting down in one of the chairs and smoothing out her well-embellished wedding gown.

“What? Nervous?” Ben places his hands on Yasmina’s shoulders, gentle but firm. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet!”

Yaz turns her head away. “No, I’m not getting cold feet…I don’t know, I’m just a little nervous.”

Ben takes a deep breath to calm himself and sits himself in the chair across from her. Yaz doesn’t need him going crazy, that certainly won’t help anything. “What’s making you nervous?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know! I mean I’m mean I’m beyond excited to get married to Sammy—it’s all I’ve ever wanted but…”

“But?” Ben presses.

Yasmina sighs. “But this wedding is such a big thing.” Both Yasmina and Sammy’s parents had insisted that they go all out for the wedding—especially since extravagant weddings are prominent in both of their cultures—and so the two of them went along with it. “I guess it just feels like a bit of pressure.”

“Hey,” Ben said, placing a hand on her knee—or at least he thinks it’s her knee. It’s hard to tell with all that fabric.. “So what if this wedding is a ‘big thing.’ This day is for you and Sammy, all that matters is you and her. So, what are you most excited for after you get married?”

Yaz grins. “I’m excited to finally call her my wife, heh. Our honeymoon in Greece, just the two of us. And…well Sammy wants to have a baby sometime in the future.”

Ben sits back in his seat a little bit. He can totally imagine a little Sammy or Yaz running around the place and the thought makes him happy. “And is that something you want as well?”

Yasmina plays with her fingers as if, on one of them sits her engagement ring and soon her wedding band will be added to the mix. “I mean at first I was a little hesitant, but now…I think I’m ready to start a family with her. I want to be with Sammy for the rest of my life.”

A large grin grows on Ben’s face. He claps his hands together. “Well, I think you’re ready to get married!”

There’s a knock on the door and then it opens slowly. “Hey,” comes Darius’ voice. “Everything’s ready! You guys good?”

“Yea,” Yasmina sighs with relief. “Come in!”

Darius fully enters the room and his face morphs into a smile when he sees Yaz. “Woah, you look really pretty, Yaz.”

Yasmina smiles. “Thanks, D. Think Sammy’ll agree?”

“Oh, please,” Ben scoffs. “Sammy won’t be able to take her eyes off you. She’s crazy about you, after all.”

—

“Sammy, you good?” Brooklynn only asks because of the fact that Sammy’s pacing around in her wedding dress, wearing a hole in the dressing room floor.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little nervous, that’s all.” Sammy turns to Brooklynn and throws her hands down to the side with a pained look sprawled across her face. “Is it bad that I’m freaking out about getting married? I mean, this is supposed to be the biggest day of my life.”

“Hey, chill,” Brooklynn tells her, resting her hand on Sammy’s shoulders. “If I know Yaz, then Ben is probably having to talk her down right now, too. That’s why you guys are meant for each other.”

“I know, I know. But what if Yaz regrets getting married, or—”

Brooklynn has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “Sammy, that's absolutely ridiculous. The love you two have? It’s real. I’ve seen the way Yaz looks at you, do you really think believe that she’s not crazy for you?”

Sammy bites her lip. “I don’t know…I mean she already seemed hesitant about wanting kids, I just don’t want to force her into anything she doesn’t want.” She’s happy she and Yaz opted for a summer wedding, but God it feels like the heat is getting to her right now.

“If Yaz wasn’t sure about wanting to get married, she wouldn’t have beat you to proposing,” Brooklynn says folding her arms together. “The question is are you ready?”

Sammy shakes her head with a chuckle. “Wow, you just had to go there. Maybe I am going a little crazy.” She straightens. “I am ready. I really love Yaz and…when I saw her hold my nephew for the first time, I knew for sure that she’s the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Brooklynn grins. “Well, it sounds to me like you’re ready for this.”

“Yea,” Sammy nods. “ I am ready for this.”

The door swings open and Kenji pops his head in. “Hey-o! Looking good, Sammy! You ready?”

Sammy puts her hands on her hips. “Yes, I am! I was a little nervous but I’m good now.”

“Alright!” Kenji says, walking in and giving Sammy a high-five. “As I like to tell my students, you ‘Kon’ do this!”

“Kenji, you’re such a goof,” Sammy laughs. “Now, let's get married!”

BONUS

The B-Team

Brooklynn: All good on your side? Ben: You bet! Had some pre-wedding jitters but we got it covered. Brooklynn: Same here. Brooklynn: These two are idiots if they can’t see how much they mean to each other. Ben: Ikr, now let’s get this wedding going before one of them freaks out again Brooklynn: Team Yasammy is a go!

#ben and brooklynn = biggest yasammy shippers #jwcc #jurassic world camp cretaceous #yasammy #yasammy week #yasammyweek #yasammy week 2024 #sammy gutierrez #yasmina fadoula #ben pincus #brooklynn jwcc #jurassic world chaos theory #jwct

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wheelsvoid · 2 months

Text

HOME ; STRANGER THINGS

⇢ you don’t have a place to call home, or a family, and you keep it a secret from your friends. however, they find out and find a way to help you without your knowing

masterlist

genre: platonic, angst with a happy ending

word count: 1,674

warnings: one curse word, and the reader doesn’t have a good life outside of school so keep that in mind ofc

request: “Heyyyyyy for a platonic stranger things imagine could be like an orphan and friends with the gang and no one knows about Rs's situation but El looks for r one time and finds out about Rs's bad living situation (maybe homeless?) and the crew rally around their friend and hopper adopts r?”

tried my best, here you go!

Jealousy was something I was very familiar with. I knew it well enough to call it a friend, but I hated it enough to wish it would leave me forever.

I never knew myself to be such a jealous person until I made all the friends I did. I was typically quite kind, and forgiving, and I only got angry when justified. Still, my jealousy never left me.

All my friends had homes, and at least someone to go home to. I had nothing and no one. Their lives weren’t perfect, but the little voice in my head always told me that mine was worse, even if it wasn’t fair to compare.

I found ways to hide my lack of a real life. I often stayed at Lucas’ house, or Mike’s. I had sleepovers, and their parents didn’t mind. I stayed long enough to look as though I was hanging out, but I left before they could think to call my mother or father.

It was embarrassing to depend on others for a bathroom, or a bed, or food, or anything necessary to live a normal life, but I had nothing else.

They never had to know, anyway.

I was the first one at Starcourt Mall today, seeing as I had taken the early bus. I watched as all my close friends left the large vehicle with smiles on their faces, smiling back at me when they saw me leaning up against the wall.

“Y/N!” El ran up to me in excitement. She gave me a hug, and I laughed as I hugged her back. When the boys got closer, with Max by their sides, Lucas, Will and Dustin each gave me a high five, and Mike gave me a fist bump with a grin.

“What took you guys so long?” I raised a brow, sending a teasing grin as we made our way in the mall. “I’ve been here a whole hour longer, waiting.”

“Oh, we’re so sorry that you had to wait.” Lucas sympathized, dramatically holding a hand over his heart.

“It was Mike’s fault, anyway.” Max said. “He got into an argument with Nancy over who got the last pancake.”

I laughed loudly. “Typical.”

And the energy was up the entire day, too. We went to the movies, sneaking through the back thanks to Steve (who grew more regretful for letting us do so the first time every time we saw him). Afterwards, we went back to Scoops Ahoy to each grab an ice cream.

I was glad for my job, from Tuesday to Saturday every week, so I could pay for my own ice cream. I worked after school each day, not having to worry about a curfew or anything of the sort. I only had myself, and the longer I worked the better. I liked feeling as though I was in a normal environment for a teenager, even if it was just a café.

On the way out of Scarcourt Mall, Max turned to me. “Hey, Y/N, wanna go to your house this time?” We typically went to one of our houses after our meet ups, and hung out the rest of the day. However, the thought of doing so this time scared me. I had no place to call home. “I just realized, we’ve never been.”

For a moment, my eyes were wide and I went pale, but I relaxed a second later. I played it cool. “No, thanks. I’d rather go to Mike’s, I wanna see Nancy anyway. And my house is a mess today. Maybe another time.”

At this point, I was digging my own hole. Another time? I couldn’t keep denying them. They’d figure it out eventually.

Max, Lucas, Will and El frowned in confusion, but Dustin and Mike were blissfully unaware of my slip up. “Sounds fun.” Dustin cheered.

And it was fun. I spent as long as I could at their house without seeming lost, or alone. I tried my best to fit in. And I was hopeful that I did.

How could I have known that I’d worried the others, leaving them to talk as I left to go fill in for my coworker on a Sunday?

———

“I’m worried about Y/N.” Will admitted. “They were acting… weird.”

“I noticed too.” Lucas sighed, leaning forward from his spot on the couch downstairs.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Mike frowned in confusion.

Max turned to him, raising a brow. “You didn’t notice?”

Mike stared, “no…?”

“They looked…” Max had to think about it for a second. She had to think of the right word. Then it hit her. It was fear that she’d seen. “Scared.”

“Why would they be scared?” Dustin asked. “We go to each other’s houses all the time, right?”

“Not Y/N’s.” El said. “We’ve never been.”

For a moment, everyone was silent. They were either lost in their thoughts, or unsure of what to say.

Will spoke next, sounding hesitant. “Are they okay?” His voice was so soft, it could only be heard due to the quietness of the room.

———

After school the next day, Mike had come up to me and told me that El wanted to hang out at her house, but since I hadn’t given them my phone number, she asked him to tell me. I was glad that El wanted to hang out, and I was glad that she wasn’t scared to ask.

I told him I’d love to, and he grinned, telling me he’d call her and let her know I’d be over after school.

Since I had nowhere to go, I began my walk from school, all the way to Hopper’s cabin in the woods. It was a long, exhausting walk. But I was glad to make it before it’d gone dark (and lucky it wasn’t that long of a walk).

When I saw the small cabin, I felt relief. Despite my aching legs, I began jogging to the front door. I was more than excited to see El after not seeing her all day. It would be nice if it was safe enough for her to join us at school.

I knocked on the door, waiting patiently for it to open. Hopper opened it, and it wasn’t a surprise for me that it was him. He had to, to keep El safe from any unwanted visitors. He could play it off as the only resident in the cabin if he wanted to.

“Hello, Hopper.” I grinned. “Can I come in.”

Hopper smiled like he was expecting me, but there was something else shining in his eyes that worried me. “Sure, kid.”

I had always liked Hopper. He was kind to me, and grew kinder over the years, too. He was special.

As I walked in, putting my bag down that held all of my belongings, I looked around in search of El. I saw her door, which was opened only a couple inches, quickly guessing for her to be in there. As I took of my shoes, Hopper stood a few feet away.

“Before you hang out with El, would you mind if we talked?”

I looked up at him, somewhat surprised but mostly confused. As I finished untying my laces, I nodded, kicking off my shoes and getting to my feet. “Yeah.” I said, but it sounded like more of a question.

Hopper led me to the living room, and I glanced at El’s door which did not open any more. He sighed as we both sat down on the couch that fit perfectly in the room.

He was silent for a while, like he was thinking of what to say, before his voice broke through the silent space. “The kids told me that you seemed… off yesterday.” He said.

I held my breath. Had they figured it out? Did I mess up? How much did they know? How did they—

“They just want to make sure you’re okay.”

I stared at him, unsure if I looked as calm as I wanted myself to. I was sure I was showing some of my fear. Still, I nodded. “I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?”

Terrible answer. Now he’ll never let me leave. Shit.

He looked at me, frowning. “Well, they told me that you’ve never given them your number, and that you never let them stay over.” He said softly, “and that you never talk about your family, and that you get nervous whenever they bring anything up.” He sighed. “We’re just worried, kid.”

I held my hands together, unable to look away from them now. I didn’t know what to say. Why had I gone silent? I’d never be able to play it off now.

But what if I needed some help?

“What’s going on at home?”

I chipped away at my blue nail polish, which Max had lended me. “I have no home.” I said.

I could feel Hopper’s eyes on me. “None at all?”

I let out a shaky breath. “None.”

He was quiet for a second. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I… didn’t know how.” My voice was quiet now. Gentle. “I didn’t want to ruin anything.”

Hopper put a hand on my shoulder, causing me to look at him. He looked sad, and sympathetic, but mostly heartbroken. “How would it ruin anything?”

“I didn’t want them to have anything else to worry about.” I said. The weight on my chest felt a little bit lighter. “I didn’t want to… make things worse, I guess.”

They already had so much to deal with.

“I promise you,” he made a point to look me in the eyes. “That nothing you could ever say or do would ruin anything. They would always help you. I would.” I couldn’t control the way my lip quivered, and as Hopper squeezed my shoulder, he asked me a question that made me feel like I could breathe again. “You want to stay with me?”

A tear slipped from my eye and I nodded, “yeah.”

He smiled softly, pulling me in for a hug. “Okay.”

#x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things angst #stranger things #platonic #platonic x reader #jim hopper #eleven stranger things #el hopper #max mayfield #will byers #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair

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tpwkwriter · 1 year

Note

u r my fave writter everrrr! And I wanted to recommend H helping the reader with anxiety, depression, an eating disorder and like a traumatic childhood. THANK YOUUUUU

My comfort.

First of all thank you so, so much Not only for your request but lovely words! 🥰

And wowser A traumatised y/n! 🫢but luckily H is there hey!

*Warnings* mentions of depression, anxiety, trauma,drug use!, body dysmorphia, struggles with eating and various mental health issues! My dms are open always! 🤎

Love your beautiful selfs! 🫶🏼

— — — — —

Ever since a young age y/n had been through various battles.

Her childhood was far from mundane, when she was about 9 her parents took to several different substances and would happily leave y/n and her sister alone for many hours through the day.

When the girl hit her early teens she was aware of what was going on and that realisation hit her like a ton of bricks, knowing her parents would rather be out doing his knows what, with god knows who then actually looking after her and her sister

When it was time for secondary school, y/n would still admit that this was the worst time for her. 7 hours of constant work to come home and play mother. The constant comparisons to her and her classmates drove her mad, the reminder of exams and work it was all a bit much.

When she hit 17 she went to college and took part in a weekend job to earn some money on the side. Of course her parents eyes lit up once they heard money was being made.

On y/n’s sisters 12th birthday y/n was finally able to buy her gifts and treat the young girl. However this didn’t go down with the rest of the family, y/n recalls this memory very clearly even though she’s been trying to repress it for years.

The argument they had that evening was booming, her father threw anything he could get his hands on, her mother threw every insult and shaming word there was, all of this because she wouldn’t lend them money?

The night quickly escalated when an empty vase was threw at y/n leaving a cut on her wrist that scarred and she still sees to this day.

From that night y/n picked up longer shifts, and more hours just for a bit more money and financial stability.

By her 18th birthday she could afford her first car, wasn’t anything grand but the freedom it allowed her was amazing, she finally felt proud of how she’s done this all herself, she finally felt pride in herself and not self hatred.

Fast forward to age 25 and her life was something she wasn’t expecting.

She was with one of the most recognisable faces, who was able to show her parts of the world she never thought she could, he gave her the biggest comfort and safe feeling that she ever so lacked.

Her sister was currently 21 living with her own boyfriend and was equally as happy, and both of them was as close as ever.

Y/n loved Harry with everything in her, and wanted no chance or risk that he would walk out on her. Y/n adamantly worked on her figure everyday, she started off her morning in the gym, went for a run at-least once a week, this was good n all but she slowly started slipping meals and going past them.

It was currently nearing 6pm and H had just come back from the studio and long day.

“Alright love?” He asks putting a hand on her waist and kissing her cheek as she was finalising dinner.

“Oh my god H” she giggled

“Y’made me jump! Didn’t hear y’come in” she smiled

“Was m’plan” he smirked kissing her again.

“How was y’day” he ask, reaching the top cupboard for too glasses knowing she wouldn’t be able to reach them.

“Was okay, got Tomorrow off so no excuse to get rid of me” she smiled.

“You?” She asked

“S’okay busy, happy to have our day tomorrow”

Dinner was finalised, and the both sat at the table speaking through there day to each other.

“Y’been to the gym today?” He asked

“Yeah” she answered.

“Did 2 hours in there today!!” She said proudly.

“M’proud of you darling, make sure we’re not overworking ourselves right?” He asks slipping her a look that was all too familiar.

“M’not, I just wanna stay, like this I guess?” She smiles.

“What do you mean baby? Y’gorgeous” he states.

“Have you eaten today?” He asks stopping in his tracks to watch her.

“Um” she wonders.

“I mean, m’eating right now, but I just wasn’t hungry really” she claims, taking another spoonful of her food to her mouth.

“Y/nnnnn” he playfully drags

“I promise I’ll eat more tomorrow, just, wasn’t hungry today!” She smiles.

“Y’did 2 hours in the gym and didn’t eat anything after?” He asks tone getting deeper and eyebrows raising.

“I really I didn’t mean to, I was running errands after and I forgot” she says standing up from her seat collecting the plates from them both.

H joins her in kitchen and helps her tidy up.

“Thanks H” she said.

“N’worries, thanks for dinner love” he says kissing her temple swiftly.

“Gonna get dressed, and then we can watch one of your bloody documentaries?” He smiles

“Y’know it H” she blushes.

They reluctantly parted, y/n found herself bundled up on the couch with a fluffy blanket awaiting her loves return, she found herself scrolling mindlessly on instagram.

When your current boyfriend has exes in the like of Kendall Jenner, cara delavine and Camille Rowe it’s often hard not to feel worse compared to them, curiosity took y/n over and she clicked on Camille’s instagram page, she was greeted with selfies, pictures of events she’s been too, her with her friends and various other things, her beautiful eyes, her shiny long hair, her model figure, she was straight out of a magazine.

Suddenly all of y/n’s work felt pointless, no matter what she would always be compared to these fashionable girls, that familiarity hits her once again.

She set her phone down and focused on the Tv in-Front of her and fell deeper into her fluffy blanket she was cuddling.

Without a word of exchange H joins her back on the sofa, sits next to the girl and guides her legs to his lap, allowing his fingers to gently trace over her shins and ankles.

“I love you” she says eyes remaining glued to the screen.

His movements stop and he turns his head to her.

“I love you too”

The night was slowly closing and the couple slowly started there evening routine.

Y/n was in there shared bathroom going through with her skincare before bed, a million thoughts popped up at once, she didn’t know if It was her anxiety or just her clear overthinking tendencies

Y/n glanced in the mirror, all she saw was all imperfections, she couldn’t even compare to Taylor swift or Kendall Jenner in anyway shape or form.

“Baby Y’alright?” Harry asked from the other side of the door.

She quickly tapped her phone to see the time just to realise she’s spent nearly an hour locked in the bathroom.

“Yeah baby m’now Coming out” she said shaking the train of though out of her head.

Silent tears roll down her face.

Him. He was so amazing in everything he did. His voice was safe. His words were so comforting. The thought of him not being around her terrified the shit out of her.

— — — — —

Part 2 coming soon!

Hopefully you all like this! There will be a part 2 as I don’t want this to be a really long fic, because I have many ideas what I want done with this!!! 🤎

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winniemaywebber · 5 months

Text

It's Been A Long, Long Time • Part 3

🌹 Uncle Rosie 🌹

read previous part here

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @archival-hogwash

“Goodnight, you two!” you say as you watch your friends leave the room, Harry's arm wrapped around his wife. The look on their faces as they realize they get to share a bed for the first time in weeks because you're there to help sends a warm glow through your body. Happy to be here, yet missing home, you decide to call your Ma before it gets too late. The baby is dozing softly in the bassinet next to Croz's armchair and you tiptoe out of the room to ensure he isn't woken.

Dialing the number on the phone in the hall, you wait patiently.

“Rosenthal residence,” a voice says.

“Ma,” you reply, happy to hear her. “It's me. Just wanted to let you know I got here safe.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear it, Robbie. How are the Crosbys?”

“Oh, they're great, Ma. Being excellent parents just like I knew they would be. I'm helping em out tonight, making sure they get a good rest together.”

“That's wonderful, son. I'm glad you're there to help.”

“Me, too. Now, Ma,” you begin nervously. “If the baby wakes up…what do I do?”

“Robert,” she sighs, instantly exasperated. “Did you make your poor, dear friends think you had it handled?” You pause, nervous to respond.

“Y-yes,” you finally stutter out. “But they need their rest and I couldn't leave them exhausted like that and I–”

“Son, it's easy. Change the diaper, heat the milk.”

“R-right…easy,” you pause again, shifting from one foot to the other. “How do I heat it?”

“Leave it in the bottle and put that in a pot of boiling water on the stove. Keep an eye on it. Not too hot, you don't want to burn the little fella's mouth, now. You'll be fine. It'll be good practice for you when your time comes with Josephine.”

At the mention of her name, you hear a cheeky cackle in the background. You smile at the sound, your heart suddenly beating ten to the dozen at the thought of her beautiful smile, how her eyes crinkle whenever she laughs at one of your terrible jokes.

“Did she come for dinner?”

“Yes, son. She's spending the night, too. Nobody to take her home and I don't want her getting a cab at this hour.”

“That's sweet, Ma. Thanks for taking care of her.”

“Hold on just a minute…” there's a pause on the other end of the line until you hear your mother attempting to whisper.

“He's with the baby…yes, he seems to be in over his head,” you hear her laugh.

“Ma!” you shout over the line, eyes squeezed shut. “Don't tell her!” With that, the baby begins to wail from the next room and you sigh. “Ma, I have to go. The baby.”

“Good luck, Robbie. Josephine sends her love.”

“And I send it right back. G'night.”

Placing the phone into its cradle, you rush along the padded carpet to tend to the baby.

“Hey, hey buddy,” you say as you reach him, hands going to lift him from his bed. “How's it goin’?” You coo, hoping you're able to calm him easily. Stroking his head with your gentle hand, he seems to relax instantly. “Huh,” you say, carrying on the movement. “Piece of cake.”

Not quite asleep yet, you carry the baby in your arms over to the record player. Flipping through the Crosby record collection with your free hand, you find one that catches your eye. “Now this,” you murmur to the small child in your arms, his big brown eyes - exactly like his father's - gazing up at you as you place the record on the player one-handed, “is good jazz, little Croz.”

The sounds of Artie Shaw softly blare through the room, you sitting down in the armchair.

“Did you know,” you begin, looking at the baby's sweet face. “Now, I dunno if your Pop told you this yet. But there was a mission where me and my crew were completely alone. I don't mind telling ya, kid, I was petrified - who are you gonna tell, after all?” You muse on that for a moment. “Okay, maybe you'll tell your father, but that's fine by me. Anyway, completely alone, nothing but blue sky in front of me and my co-pilot. All I could think to do was to hum along to this.” You carry on telling the story as the music swells, rambling on about how all you could think of was getting back to base in one piece, being able to be back home for your Ma and your sweet Josephine.

“That's Aunt Jo, by the way, kid. The second I marry her, I'm bringing her to see you. She's dying to see you, pal, and your sweet mama. So was I. We best buddies now? What d'ya say? Uncle Rosie pass the test?” At that final sentence, the baby's eyes close and he's softly snoring on you, his head burrowing into your chest. You feel your heart swell, tears suddenly pricking your eyes. You think back to that New Year during the war, where you'd written to Josephine, promising her the world, whatever she chose. Holding your friend's sleeping infant in your arms makes you realize that you want life to look like this with her.

You lay the baby down in his bassinet, the music softly playing in the corner of the room helping to soothe him, and you make your way back to the telephone. Dialing the number for home, you wait as the line rings.

Hello?” A voice, thick with tiredness and hoarse from laughter. “Robbie?”

"Darling,” you breathe out, the sound of her sweet voice almost making you fall to your knees. Composing yourself, you carry on. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”

“How's our nephew?” she coos, her voice up an octave.

“He's fine, my love. Has eyes just like his Papa. Hair like his Mother. Angelic face just like his Aunt Jo.”

"Oh, stop,” she teases. “How did you get on in the end? Your ma said you sounded quite panicked.”

“It was fine. Pretty easy, actually.” You take a deep breath in, preparing yourself for what you're about to say next. “I just wanted to reiterate what I meant in that letter, that new year. Being here has made me realize it more. Jo, I want to give you everything. A family, a herd of kids. Anything you want.”

“Darling…” she murmurs. “Then hurry up and marry me. I'm impatient.” You laugh, switching the phone to your other ear.

“Besides,” she carries on. “Judging by your panic, I think we should wait a little longer to talk about having kids.”

You sigh, playfully. “But we can still practice making ‘em, right?”

“Robert, your mother is stood right next to me.”

“Oh–uh…uh oh.” Luckily, you hear your sweetheart giggle as she struggles to come back to normal.

“I love you, darling,” she whispers. “Goodnight.”

“I love you, sweetheart. I'll be dreaming of you.”

“And me. Bye, Robbie.”

The phone clicks as you hear a tiny cry from the living room, the record having ended. Putting the phone back in its place, you walk back to the room, excited to share more anecdotes with your new best friend.

thank you to @ginabaker1666 and @sagesolsticewrites for reading this over and over to make sure it was PERFECT 🥰

masterlist

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fic #mota fic #rosie rosenthal #harry crosby #jean crosby #its been a long long time #winnie writes #rosie rosenthal x oc

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theloveoffootball10 · 13 days

Text

sᴛɪᴄᴋᴡɪᴛᴜ : s ᴇ ᴠ ᴇ ɴ

m a s t e r l i s t

s ᴇ ᴠ ᴇ ɴ

Arriving back home on the Tuesday night I slump back on the sofa with a huff. The whole weekend has been incredible and now I have to prepare myself to go back into the office tomorrow. After I left Lando at the hotel on Monday morning I spent the rest of my time with my dad.

We went for breakfast before I met him back at home in Oxfordshire for the night. Being at my dad's home has always been one of my biggest security blankets and getting to spend the time there with him always reminds me of being a kid. Although I grew up with my parents not being together my mum would always drive the near 6 hour round trip from Cheshire to Oxfordshire and back again if I wanted to see my dad and he was home. We'd never tell him, we'd just jump in the car and be welcomed with open arms at the end of the journey.

"Hello to you as well, talk about moody Margaret walking through the door" my mum says from her spot in the corner of the sofa.

"I don't want to go back to work tomorrow" I feel like I'm on the biggest comedown of my life after spending so much time with Lando.

"Right who is he?" My mum asks as she pauses whatever she has playing in the background "come on tell me. You're never this depressed when you come home from your dads and you've been in the house less than 10 minutes"

"Mum do we have to" I say with a groan. I don't mind telling my mum what happened, I tell her literally everything I just don't know if I'm ready to have this conversation out loud.

"Yes we have to, you're not having a pity party for one over this. Which driver is it?" Turning my head to my mum I nearly give myself whiplash as I frown "don't give me that look. I've been there. Only a formula one driver can turn a girl to this"

"Lando Norris. Fucking hell I can't believe I'm saying it out loud to you"

"Ooh he's a good looking lad Lucía! He had a good weekend and now I think I know why" I can't believe my mum has just said that! "Look, I've been there Lucía and you've grown up in that world so I'm not surprised you've met someone working in formula one, if Lando Norris makes you happy then I'm made up for you"

"Muuuum nothing has happened other than sex" I say with a groan knowing in her head my mum has my wedding planned and is thinking of names for her future grandchildren "he wants to take me out in Miami for an actual date though"

"And I'm guessing you said yes? I'm sure he's got something insane up his sleeve if it's in Miami but after that date you had with that Jake lad even going to Starbucks for a brew is an improvement"

"Don't ever mention that date again! It was traumatic, I think I'm mentally scarred from that experience! Who tells a girl they're taking her out, tells her to dress to impress then takes her fishing! I won't ever be over that mum" I cringe at the thought of the worst date I've ever been taken on, sitting in the rain at the side of a lake surrounded by fishing gear absolutely freezing was never my idea of a good time.

"To be completely serious for a minute though Lucía, if you think you could have feelings for Lando give him a chance. If you don't that's fine, you're an adult and I trust that you're sensible enough to make the best decision for you. As always this stays between us until you're ready for your dad to know anything"

"Thanks mum. I appreciate it. We both have completely different lives but I'll see how it goes in Miami and then go from there" I can always count on my mum to make me feel better about a situation "did the stuff I need for Tomorrowland come?"

"You've got a load of parcels that came over the last few days so I'm guessing so. When is it you go?"

"Just under two weeks time, so this weekend I don't have plans then I have Tomorrowland, I'm home for like a week then fly to Miami" when it comes to summer I'm always back to back with plans. Since I was old enough to do my own thing I've always made the most of my anual leave throughout the summer. It would be easy for me to not work and live off my dad forever but I actually really like my job.

"I won't see you until you're back from Miami. I fly to Ibiza with the girls on Sunday when you're in Belgium. I'll make sure I leave your birthday present for you to open before you go or for when you're in Miami" my mum may be in her forties but I love that she still has girls party holidays to places like Ibiza. Me and some of my friends have been on holiday with my mum and her friends one of the most memorable being a long weekend in Magaluf.

"Mum don't worry about it. I can get it when we're both home. I'm going to shower and get sorted for work tomorrow" making my way to my bedroom I throw myself on the bed. I need to shower but I can't get Lando out of my head. Checking instagram I notice I don't have any messages from him which makes me wonder if this was just a Silverstone thing. I suppose I'll have to see what happens between now and Miami. I'm not saying I want scheduled phone calls from him but a few messages would be nice especially if he is serious about taking me out in Miami.

Nine days later I arrive in Belgium with some of my closest friends for Tomorrowland, the sun is shining and we're staying in a mansion rather than camping this year so the ten of us can stay together. As a group we do this trip every year, kind of like a ritual but we've grown up together and since we were all old enough it became our thing. Posting a photo of the girls to my instagram story I pour the first of many drinks I'll be consuming this weekend.

As we're all getting settled in our home from home for the weekend I sit on my bed when I see a notification pop up on my phone. Lando Norris replied to your story. I've spoken to Lando a few times since we left Silverstone and still it's always a dm. Neither of us has asked for the other's number but I always feel like I have a heard of elephants in my stomach when I see his name on my phone screen.

landonorris

I guess I'll see you Sunday and won't have to wait until Miami x

emselucia

You're coming to Tomorrowland?

Aren't you in Hungary?

landonorris

I'm flying straight over after the race and when I'm done with media x

I might just sack off the media now I know you're at Tomorrowland x

emselucia

That wouldn't be a good idea would it Mr Norris. I can only imagine how much the media and your PR manager would disapprove. However I would appreciate seeing your face x

landonorris

Mr Norris is my dad plz don't ever say that again 🤢 you can see my face as much as you like. Enjoy the weekend as much as you can, I'm jealous I can only be there Sunday x

emselucia

we both know your weekend will be even better when you see me though so it doesn't matter if you're not here for the full weekend 😜

See you Sunday Lando x

I'm fucked. Lando Norris has well and truly got me under his spell and I'm hanging on his every word. I might love Tomorrowland but I'm wishing the next three days away until it's Sunday and I get to see him again. The fact I get to see him before Miami has made my weekend.

#lando norris x oc #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris #formula one smut #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula one #formula 1

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monstrousproductions · 7 months

Note

[warning: transphobia, specifically from parents. seriously. take care of yourself i mean it.]

hiya dad, it was my 17th birthday today (technically yesterday, since it's past midnight, but i digress). i'm writing in cause it kinda sucked and most of the other adults who i'm out to (and are supportive) are my teachers and i don't really want to bare my heart over school email. i came out as trans (ftm) to my family a skosh over 2 years ago, and my parents still haven't accepted it. they're the sort that think that trans people exist, but *you* (that is, i) can't possibly be one of them. my mom's been trying to use fully neutral language and avoid using any names, which is... technically better than misgendering me, i suppose. my dad told me i was "full of shit" when i came out and has no hesitation about deadnaming me since them. there's lots of very sad specific anecdotes about the various responses they've had to me trying to assert that i'm a guy, but this is gonna be pretty long as is, so just take my word for it. i also came out to my older brother at the same time, and he's been hesitant, but willing to try about it.

all of us were busy during the day today, but we were going to open presents tonight, and my mom made a birthday cake for us to have afterwards. the first half of that went okay, though my dad was fully sullen--this isn't unusual; there's a whole lot else going on with my dad but getting into it would require a laundry list of warnings. anyway, after the presents my mom said that she wanted to consult me about decorating tomorrow's cake (i'm hanging out with some friends and will be having a larger cake due to the number of people). however, this was apparently a subtle way to get me out of earshot of my dad, since my mom wanted to know what i wanted to do about singing "happy birthday," since singing it with my actual name would send my dad "over the edge" (to be clear, this was almost certainly an accurate assessment). the options were to either a) sing happy birthday with 1. my actual name (horrible social repercussions for days if not weeks) 2. my dead name (i don't like being a doormat) or 3. a childhood nickname (which, while theoretically better than option 2, still implies that there's something wrong with my actual name), or to b) skip having cake as a family and not sing.

i chose b, for reasons obvious--my brother was also the only one who was hungry for cake, so it hopefully didn't seem weird. my mom said that it was my choice, but she wanted to sing me happy birthday and would use whichever name i picked, even if she didn't do it with the rest of the family. i agreed to this, and my mom said that she'd tell my older brother where i was (my brother and i are fairly close, and he's in college and usually living on-campus, so i was supportive of this). our conversation had gone on for long enough at that point that my dad and brother were having a full conversation, so i went up to my room to do homework that's due tonight. my brother came up a little later with cake (he says that cutting into a fresh birthday cake that wasn't his felt like thieving, which was sweet--all puns intended--of him), and we had cake before he needed to head back to campus. i started on my assignments, and after a bit my mom came in. i asked if she wanted to sing happy birthday then, and she said that she didn't think she'd be able to get the words out bc she'd be crying too much. rn i think she's on a walk or something.

that's pretty much the whole saga. as i said, i'm hanging out with some of my friends tomorrow, and i'm out to them (and tbh most of them are queer and/or trans) so that should be good, and my mom said that she'll sing the version with my actual name (though she didn't phrase it like that) with them, which will be a first. i'm not physically unsafe, and my parents would be fine if i weren't trans (like, in most regards they're good parents, they're just bad at not being transphobic). but i've also had a really shitty birthday and i didn't even get to be sung happy birthday with my actual name, and i'm really tired of getting hurt.

i'm not exactly sure if i have a question or not. i think most of the decisions i'll really want a second opinion on are gonna start being made when i turn 18 and can medically and legally transition, and right now i'm mostly waiting and trying to take care of myself as best as i can. still, if you have any sage advice i'll certainly take it. anyway, my name's Julian and if you could wish me a happy, albeit belated, birthday i'd really appreciate it.

Oh, kiddo! This sounds really, really tough xxxx

First of all, thank you for having the consideration to add a content warning - I appreciate, it not just for myself but for everyone else on the blog.

I wouldn't usually weigh in on people's personal problems (at least, the ones that aren't about ghosts and ghouls...) because it can be hard to maintain healthy boundaries around this stuff - at the end of the day, I am still a stranger on the internet!

As such, my first piece of dadly advice for you is to talk about this with people who know you and love you and who can support you in a more direct, ongoing way.

That said, of course I can wish you a very, very happy birthday, lovely Julian! I'm sorry the day itself was a bit shit, and I hope your friends can help you celebrate the way you'd like to. I had a pretty remarkably shitty 16th birthday, and can certainly sympathise.

Obviously I can't weigh in on any of the big decisions in your future (taps the 'stranger on the internet' sign again 😅) but I hope it's some reassurance to know that adulthood is on the horizon. As you get older, you'll be better placed to advocate for your own autonomy and to set and maintain the boundaries that make sense to you.

Until then, taking care of yourself is the best thing you can do. It's hard, and it sucks, but you're worth every ounce of love and care you can give yourself. Stick with it, sweet Julian, and here's to a happier year ahead! 💕

#monstrous askbox #cw transphobia

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allthingsfangirl101 · 2 years

Text

Protective Duffer Brothers–Joe Keery

Tumblr request by @happy-place27

After high school, I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. Until I figured it out, I moved to California with one of my uncles.

Uncle Matt and Uncle Ross have been working on a Netflix show. When I moved in with Uncle Ross, I was worried my uncles would pressure me to find a job or to go to college like my parents did. Instead, they encouraged me to try a bunch of things until I found what I liked. So, for the two years, that's exactly what I've been doing.

This week it was painting.

And for the first time since I moved to California, I started to feel like I finally found something I was good at. I was so good at it, Ross has been talking to a few other directors about offering me a job. Today, I was supposed to meet my uncles for lunch.

"There's our girl!"

I gasped when someone ran over and picked me up.

"Come on, Ross," Matt sighed as he walked over to us as Uncle Ross spun me around. "She's an adult. Would you put her down?"

"What?" Ross laughed as he finally stopped spinning me. He quickly caught me when I stumbled. "She loves it."

"Actually," I said, still dizzy, "I think I'd prefer only feeling this dizzy when I've had too many cocktails."

"That's not something you tell you're uncles!" Matt laughed as he walked away.

"I get it," Ross shrugged.

"Don't encourage her," Matt sighed.

"She's an adult," Ross shrugged. "She can have as many cocktails as she wants."

"Thank you, Uncle R," I said, jokingly kissing him on the cheek. "So, are you old timers ready for lunch? I'm starving."

"Yeah," Matt laughed. "Come on, kiddo."

After lunch as we headed back to set, I jumped on Ross's back. We mainly did this because it drove Matt nuts when we acted like this. He never understood why being around me made his brother act like a child.

The thing is, I loved it. Growing up, both of my parents worked a lot. My uncles ended up watching me more than my parents did. I was a teenager when they had to move to California.

It broke my heart when they moved. The second the door closed after they left, I decided to get a degree in anything as long as it was from a California college close to my uncles.

"I know you guys just do this to annoy me," Matt said, clearing his throat, "and it's not going to work."

"It's clearly working," I laughed. I shrieked when Ross started spinning.

"Come on," Matt sighed. "We work here, Ross."

"So?!" Ross yelled as he continued to spin us but the other way.

"What are the actors gonna say when they see their producer spinning his niece around like she was five and he was fifteen?"

Ross finally stopped spinning, both of us laughing as Ross stumbled.

"Why do you care?" I scoffed. "They're just actors. They get paid to dress up and play pretend."

"She's got a point."

Ross stopped spinning and we all turned around. I jumped off my uncle's back and fixed my shirt as I stared at the guy that all the girls my age and younger are obsessed with.

Joe Keery.

"Sorry, Joe," Matt sighed. He sent us a look before turning back to his employee. "This is my niece, Y/N."

"Nice to meet you," Joe greeted me.

"Nice to meet you too," I greeted, a fresh blush on my face.

"You know," Ross elongated, "Y/N's new in town and could use someone to show her around."

"Ross," Matt said under his breath.

"What?" Ross laughed. "She is new in town and could always use a friend. You know, someone who isn't a family member that's twice her age."

"We are not twice her age."

"We definitely are," Ross smirked. "And weren't you the one who was so worried about Y/N not having any friends her age in town?"

"Thank you for saying that out loud," I said through my teeth.

"I'd be happy to show you around," Joe said. "If you're up for it."

"I'm in."

* * * * *

Joe showed me around town the next day. We went to all the cliché tourist spots but that only took us a few hours. We spent the rest of the day with Joe showing me some of his favorite spots.

After a long day of traveling around town, talking and laughing, Joe took me home. Before I could walk inside my apartment, Joe asked for my number.

We spent the next week texting and calling each other. We got on a routine where he'd call me on their lunch break and on his way home. Whenever he had a day or night off, we'd end up spending it together.

Tonight was no different. Except, as soon as I got off the phone with Joe, my dad called me. I didn't get a word in. He spent the entire call berating me for still not having my life together.

I hung up, fighting to hold back the tears. This is how I always felt after a phone call with my dad. I wiped the tear that escaped when the doorbell rang. I took a shaky breath as I went to answer the door.

"I hope you like Greek!" Joe laughed as soon as I opened it.

"I've actually never had it," I tried to say lightheartedly. It didn't work.

"What's wrong?" Joe asked, his smile falling.

"Nothing," I rolled my eyes. I started walking inside but Joe was at my heels.

"Y/N," he sighed as he caught up to me, "what's going on?"

"It's nothing," I tried again. Joe grabbed my hand, stopping me. He slowly turned me toward him.

"Something's wrong," he said gently.

"I already told you. . ."

"Talk to me, Y/N."

I wanted to hesitate. I wanted to brush it off and tell him I was fine. But the way he looked at me told me that he knew I'd be lying. And there was a small part of me that wanted to tell him everything.

"It's the reason I'm living with Ross," I said under my breath.

Joe smiled as he intertwined our fingers. He led us over to my couch and we sat down with our hands still intertwined. I looked down at our hands, the truth getting caught in my throat.

"All my life," I continued, "my parents have pressured me to choose a path for my life. But with everything I tried, nothing stuck. Not that I wasn't good at those things, it's just that none of them were for me. My senior year of high school, everything got worse. My father got worse. He kept handing me college brochures and personality tests. But nothing felt. . . right."

"And let me guess," Joe sighed, "you had just gotten off the phone with your dad before I got here."

"Yep," I said, my voice breaking. Joe sighed and tightened his hold on my hand.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He hesitated before asking, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No," I smiled. "But thank you, Joe."

We spent the rest of the night eating dinner and binge-watching the show we started the week we met. A few hours later, I was struggling to keep myself awake. I leaned my head on Joe's shoulder, officially giving up trying to stay awake.

I woke up a little while later to Joe whispering my name. I looked up at him, embarrassed that I had fallen asleep on him.

"Sorry," I mumbled sleepily.

"It's okay," he chuckled. "I should probably head home though."

I looked over at the clock, my heart sinking. "You're right," I said, clearing my throat. "You shouldn't be driving home super late."

I wrapped my arms around myself as Joe put on his shoes. I escorted him out of my apartment, wishing I had the courage to tell him that I was dying for him to stay.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat. "Thanks again for tonight."

"It was fun," I said awkwardly. "Thanks for listening, Joe."

Suddenly there was an awkward silence between the two of us. We stood in my doorway, neither one of us saying anything. We both felt the awkward tension but neither one of us knew what to do or say.

Joe nodded before starting to leave. He stopped and turned back around.

"Alright," he sighed as he started to ramble. "I have to get something off my chest."

"Okay," I said a little shakily. "Go ahead."

"The truth is. . . Ever since. . . I've been thinking. . . The thing is. . ."

"Joe?" I interrupted his nervous rambling.

I opened my mouth to say something else but Joe grabbed my hand and pulled me into his chest. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I didn't hesitate to kiss him back.

As our lips moved in sync, you could tell neither one of us was holding back anymore. We stumbled back into my apartment, laughing into the kiss. We were able to make it to the couch before having to break apart.

"That's what I wanted to say," Joe said breathlessly.

"Well," I said, still breathing heavily, "I guess I could say the same thing."

Joe left for work the next morning with a smug smile on his face. I felt the same until I got a weird text from my uncles.

Uncle Matty 🤓 Hey, can you come by for lunch? We need to talk about something.

Uncle Rossy 😎 Geez, Matt. When you phrase it like that. . . Don't worry, kiddo. It's nothing bad.

That didn't make me feel any better.

* * * * *

I walked onto set, saying hi to the few people I knew. The closer I got to their offices, the more nervous I got. That knot in my stomach got worse when I walked into their office and saw Joe sitting in Matt's office.

"Come on in, kiddo," Ross smiled. He walked in and kissed my forehead.

"What's going on?" I whispered.

"For the record," he whispered back, "this wasn't my idea."

"Wonderful," I mumbled. I cleared my throat and sat next to Joe. I glanced over at him to see him already smiling at me.

"It's going to be okay," he said under his breath so only I could hear.

"You're pretty sure," I whispered. "I wish I was."

He started to reach for my hand but stopped himself. Instead, he folded his hands and looked back at my uncles.

"I'm sure you both are aware of why we wanted to talk to you."

"Matt," Ross sighed, "will you cut the super-protective uncle act? Look, we know about you two."

I glanced over at Joe, wondering how my uncles could have found out. "The thing is," I stuttered.

"It was pretty obvious," Ross laughed. "Joe came to work this morning with the same clothes on he had last night. And we know that he always goes to your place after work. It wasn't that hard to figure it out."

"This is very serious," Matt added.

"Why?" Ross scoffed. "They're both consulting adults, Matt. The real reason we called you two in here was really to talk to Joe."

"That's not necessary," I stuttered.

"It most certainly is," Matt said instantly.

"Let me rephrase," I cleared my throat, "please don't."

I sent Uncle Ross a pleading look. My puppy dog eyes worked because he walked over and mumbled something to Matt. Matt whispered something back but Ross shook his head and instantly responded.

When their secret conversation was over, Ross turned to me. He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"You're gonna be late for your shift at the coffee shop," he whispered. "You still coming to dinner Sunday?"

"Of course," I said, my voice soft. I stood up and hesitated. I was about to walk away but Uncle Ross grabbed my hand.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

I wrapped my arms around myself and left. I couldn't decide if I wanted to be angry at my uncles or embarrassed that this happened in front of Joe.

"Y/N!"

I froze when I heard Joe chasing after me. I slowly turned around but looked anywhere other than at him.

"Look," I started to ramble nervously, "I'm really sorry about this. I can't believe. . . I'm so embarrassed. I know they're my uncles and I do love them, but we haven't even talked about us and what we are. . . Or if we're going to be anything. I'm not trying to force you into anything but I really care about you, Joe. I think you're an incredibly amazing guy. I mean, you're sweet and funny and down-to-earth. . . But then my uncles had to pull you in for the Talk. I can't tell you how unbelievably embarrassed I am, Joe. I'm so sorry and I understand if because of all of this you don't want to. . ."

I gasped when Joe grabbed my arms and pulled me into his chest. He leaned down and instantly kissed me. I wanted to break apart knowing that we were at his work and he was risking kissing me in front of his coworkers and his bosses, a.k.a. my uncles.

"Joe," I broke the kiss.

"Would you like to go to dinner tonight?"

* * * * *

I walked around the set, smiling at all the happy faces. Tonight Netflix was having a party for the Stranger Things cast to celebrate the first month of filming. It was also around the one-month anniversary of my and Joe's first date.

"I know this isn't the most romantic date," Joe sighed, "especially not for our anniversary dinner. And your uncles are across the room, staring daggers at me whenever I put my hand on your back or try to give you a kiss. It's kinda. . ."

I reached up and gently covered his mouth with my hand. I felt him smile under my hand.

"They need to get over it," I chuckled as Joe reached up and grabbed my hand that was covering his mouth, intertwining our fingers.

"Besides, it's not like we're teenagers and you're sneaking into my room," I said taking a step towards him.

"You mean," he smirked, closing the gap a little more, "it's not like I'm turning back into Season 1 Steve."

"Does that make me Nancy?" I whispered, leaning my nose against his.

Joe laughed as he whispered, "I hope not. Because Steve and Nancy don't have the best history."

I stood on my toes and pressed my lips to his. He smiled as our lips started moving in sync. We slowly broke the kiss, matching blushes on our faces.

"Let's go mingle," I said stepping out of his embrace. I smirked before adding, "Before my uncles get the spray bottle."

We spent the rest of the night socializing with his friends. The first time we hung out with them after becoming official, they were awkward around me. It only took two rounds of drinks before they started to lighten up.

About two hours later, I looked around the room confused. Joe went to the bathroom and hasn't come back. I grabbed Charlie as he passed.

"Hey, have you seen Joe?"

"Your uncles caught him coming out of the bathroom," Charlie laughed.

"Where?" I asked, choking on the smell of alcohol on his breath.

"I think they took him out onto the patio."

"Thanks," I sighed. I hesitated before adding, "Maybe switch to water."

I walked toward the cute patio attached to the ballroom. My stomach flipped when I saw my two uncles standing in front of Joe. I was about to walk out there but stopped when I heard my Uncle Ross use a tone I've never heard him use before.

"Joe, you're a great guy but you need to understand where we're coming from," he was saying. "Y/N is more than our niece. She's like a daughter to us. Her father wasn't around much when Y/N was growing up, so we stepped in."

"We didn't have a choice," Matt said through clenched teeth. "Y/N's father got her mother pregnant, swore to be by her side, but spent most of her childhood traveling for work. You could barely give him the title "father". We were more fathers to her than he ever was."

"The point is," Ross interrupted, "we know the relationship between you and Y/N is new but there is something we have to say to you. As uncles who care about her more than anything. Matt and I have always taken care of Y/N. It's not going to be easy letting someone else take care of her. Now that she has someone close and is getting closer, we want to make sure he wants the same thing for her as we do."

"And what we want is for Y/N to be happy," Matt finished for him. "And that new guy in her life to take care of her.

"I want Y/N to be happy," Joe said instantly. "And I want to be the reason that she smiles. Every time I see her, she puts a smile on my face. I hope to do that for her if I don't already."

"That's a relief to hear," Ross smiled. Ross smiled but Matt was still studying Joe.

"There's one more thing we need to say," Matt sighed. I held my breath as he paused. "If you hurt our niece, we'll need to come up with a sad ending for Steve."

My heart jumped into my throat at Matt's threat. Matt's always been a little more intense than Ross, but right now he sounded just plain terrifying.

"I understand," Joe said, not an ounce of fear in his voice. "I promise I would never hurt Y/N."

I quickly walked back to the party when I heard them start walking back inside. I gasped when I ran into someone. I turned around to see Mya smiling at me.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I stuttered. I cleared my throat, trying to forget the conversation I just heard. "Sorry, I was looking for Joe."

"Well, there he is," she smirked as she nodded behind me. I turned around, my heart doing this weird flip when I made eye contact with Joe.

"Sorry," he apologized as he walked over and kissed my cheek. "Your uncles wanted to have the talk," he whispered in my ear before pulling out of our embrace.

His smile softened when he saw the look on my face. "It's okay," he reassured. "It wasn't anything bad. They just wanted to make sure my intentions were clear."

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I hate that they get like this. You should have seen them when I went to prom. They came to my mom's house and, when my date came, opened the door in their bathrobes while holding my grandpa's shotguns."

"I understand it though," he shrugged. I smiled when he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "They just want you to be happy. That's what I want."

I stood on my toes and pressed my lips to his. He instantly wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me back. I broke the kiss before we could get a little too carried away.

"You make me happy, Joe."

"Good," he chuckled. "Because that's all I want."

As we stared into each other's eyes, we were unaware of my uncles spying on us from the patio.

#joe keery #joe keery imagines #joe keery x reader #joe keery POV #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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