#not even full on minimalism which another Thing

[queers-gambit]

What Goes Around, Comes Around

prompt: ( requested ) Billy's known for his temper and being obsessed with his pretty little girlfriend - which gets her severely injured by his past transgressions.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!cheerleader!reader reader and Billy are both 18+, seniors in high school

word count: 6.7k+

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

note: you're a liar if you didn't immediately start singing Justin Timberlake's "What Goes Around... Comes Around".

warnings: remember there are different responses to trauma! some people shut down, stop talking; others jabber and chatter nervously. reader is the latter. we got angst, we got literal hurt and comfort, established relationship. term "going postal" is used, cursing, technically underage drinking, not edited, author mildly gave up at the end. triggering content: depictions of physical violence, depictions of injury and blood, depiction of abuse, violent plots, Billy's girl gets physically assaulted (but it's minimally detailed).

DO NOT read if this content can potentially trigger you. you are NOT missing anything, you will miss NOTHING by skipping this, but i do try to keep the details as neutral as possible. again, prioritize yourself, mental health, and emotional state - this ain't worth the read if it's gonna upset you, i promise. author loves you all

"That's fucking her, I swear to God."

"You sure?"

"100%. That's Billy's little bitch he's obsessed with."

The three guys smirked at one another, eyeing you across the living room as you giggled and drank with a few friends in adorable, fashion forward outfits. Someone started a game of beer pong, you on the sidelines to cheer, giving them a full-show of your form.

"She's hot," Jake mused. "I can see why he keeps her so close."

"Nah, not tonight," Lawrence frowned, "heard they got in some huge fight at school. Like, she walked home and he sped off in his car."

"Hm, heard he's ridiculously protective of her... She must've really pissed him off," the third boy, Steven, nodded. "So, he's not here tonight?"

"Doubt it," Jake nodded.

"Go find out," Steven advised. "There, the basketball bros - one of them would know. Or a cheerleader," he eyed the crowd. "Chrissy's over there, Brittany's beside her - they'd be the best bet in my mind."

"We seriously considering this?" Lawrence asked with a small, nervous chuckle. "I mean, it's kinda crazy, isn't it? We're gonna send Billy Hargrove a message by roughing up his girl? There's not some better way?"

"I'd love to hear it," Steven scoffed. "Billy's too comfortable at the top of the school, broke my fucking nose and deviated Jake's septum. Didn't he fuck your sister the first week he was here, Lawrence?"

"I mean - "

"Broke her fucking heart, didn't he?" Jake tacked on.

"Well, yeah," Lawrence sighed, shrugging.

"You tell me, dude, was that shit fair?"

"No," Lawrence looked down.

"So, yeah, I know, it's bad to hit a lady - but what about my boot? Huh?" Steven smirked, nodding. "Go find out what you can. Last thing we need is Billy walkin' in the party, right?"

Jake nodded with enthusiasm, leaving Lawrence behind. He hesistated but then did as Steven asked; asking the present basketball team members if Billy gave indication he was coming. The cheerleaders assured he wouldn't dare show up when you were there after a very public fight, and if he did, it would be to cause another scene.

So, after reporting back to Steven, a plan was formed. Lawrence didn't seem fully on board, but in an effort to save his own skin, he went along with what Jake and Steven were plotting - even if that meant roughing up a woman. Something his mama and grandmama vehemently taught him not to do...

Something churned in his stomach when he heard how the two lads were nearly foaming at the mouth to get their revenge. So, he casually went to grab another drink - pausing where a few of your friends were. "Oi," he whispered, earning their attention.

"Hey, Law," Chrissy smiled.

"Hey, Chris," he sniffled, glancing around. "Listen, uh, you seen Billy 'round?"

"No? Why?"

"Hmm, just, uh... Heard his girl was all upset, thought maybe her drinking all that much was a bad idea without him around."

"Oh," Chrissy blinked, looking up at her boyfriend, Jason, as he approached the group with two drinks in hand. "I didn't think about it like that, Law."

"What's wrong?" Jason asked.

"No, nothing, Lawrence just pointed out how shitty it is to drink without someone watching your back," she pouted.

He nodded, "You lose your friends, man?"

"No, just tryna look out," Lawrence shrugged. "Few girls here drinking a lot, not a lot of defenses 'round them."

Jason frowned, "That's kinda their man's job, isn't it?"

"What if their man isn't here?"

"I'm gonna be right back," Chrissy smiled, parting ways with her girlfriend in tow - and when Law looked, they were using the kitchen telephone. He prayed they were phoning the Hargrove residence.

Lawrence sighed in slight relief and nodded to Jason; the white boy just nodding back silently and letting the other athlete pass him by to head back for Jake and Steven. He grabbed an unopened beer on his way to maintain appearances.

"Hey, we got it," Jake smirked at the third boy, "she just went outside, we should move now."

"Huh?" Law mumbled.

"C'mon," Steven growled, pushing off the mantle and stalking for the backdoors to follow your retreating form.

"Wait, what're we doing?" Law asked, trying to keep up with the drunken, elongated strides of the two dickheads he called 'friends'. "Hey! Guys, c'mon - what's going on?"

"Just - shut up, pussy boy, let's go, fuckin' keep up," Steven sneered, shoving the glass door out of his way and nearly cracking it.

Outside, the in-ground pool was alight with multicolored lights. There were teenagers littered all around the pool deck; some lounging and some standing, all drinking. There was a kegstand in play, ping pong table hosting another game of Beer Pong, and the thick stench of cigarette smoke in the air.

"She's over there," Jake pointed, their sights turning to see you leaning over to huff on your cigarette while Tammy May Flipsen lit the end of it. Your smile was genuine as you thanked her, just stepping two feet away to gaze up at the stars - a perfect time to strike.

The alcohol in everyone's system made them slow, vulnerable, and downright stupid; leaving Steven and Jake the opportunity to seize either of your arms and literally rush you around the corner of the house without anyone intervening.

Once in the remote side yard, the sickening plan commenced.

Lawrence could barely approach, managing to watch with tears in his eyes as the noises of the party masked the noises of pain you emitted; two nearly full-grown men took out their anger towards your boyfriend on you. You cried, begged for reprieve, sounded so confused and broken that it shattered Lawrence's heart - briefly thinking what if someone did this to his sister...

That made him spring into action. "Hey! No! No, this ain't right! Get off her!" Lawrence barked, shoving the two away from your body on the ground. "That's enough - back off - fuck is wrong with you!?"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" Steven demanded.

"Bitch has it coming!"

"What? You fuckin' her, too? Got you pussy whipped like Billy Boy?"

"Just fuck off, beating on a girl!" Lawrence snapped, but it was a huge mistake. Jake and Steven shared a single look before launching at the third boy, beating him as they had you - but much harder. He swore he earned a concussion, their heels stomping his neck, collarbones, wrists, ribs, ankles; exactly the same as they did to you.

"Tryna defend her now!?" Jake heaved, giving a swift kick to Lawrence's kidney. "Huh? You're so scared of Billy but you're gonna mess with his girl?" He laughed. "She must have a magic cunt or something!"

"You're so fucking pathetic, you have to beat up a girl!?" Law shot right back, earning a swift kick to the jaw from the lad that used to play soccer (or American fútbol). "Huh? Two on one? Such big men, aren't yah?" He sneered again, spitting blood to the side.

"Leave it," Steven halted Jake when he charged again, "they're both pretty fucked."

"Well, that dumbass should learn a lesson 'bout interfering!"

"Law's learned - he has, bro, and if he wants, he can learn again," Steven spat on Lawrence's form, Jake doing the same to you - both eventually stalking away like bored toddlers walking away from broken toys.

Slowly, Lawrence grunted as he pulled himself up to sit against the side of the house. "Fuck's sake," he whispered, wiping his eyes and wincing when he felt the sore skin - trailing a finger up, wincing again when he discovered split skin above his eyebrow. "Ohhhh, fuuuuck," Law drawled when you slowly peaked up from your fetal position on the ground. "Hey, hey, you all right? Stupid question," he hissed in pain when he moved to try and assist you.

You cried out when his grip laid on you, but powered through to let him help you sit against the house, too. "Holy shit," you whispered, blood dribbling from your mouth; teeth feeling loose, a headache already assaulting you, and cuts stinging in the bitter night.

"I'm so sorry."

"N-No, you - it would've been so much worse if you hadn't..." You trailed off, sniffling, "You didn't have t'jump in, you got hurt 'cause of me."

"You got hurt 'cause of Billy," Lawrence frowned.

"Huh?"

"That's why they're so pissed off," Lawrence explained, spitting more blood to the side; his jeans stained with mud, blood, and grass. "Billy got their asses few weeks ago, they're still pissed... I heard them," he deflected smoothly, "talkin' about teaching Billy a lesson through you. Didn't feel right, but I should've stopped them so much sooner. I-I'm sorry I didn't do more, Y/N."

"You did more than anyone else," you whimpered, drawing your knees into your chest to lock your arms around them. "I don't even know them, they go to our school?"

"We're all in AP History with Snyder."

You paused to nod absently, not even bothering to try and recall any interactions you might've had with Steven and Jake. Instead, you eyed your savior, mumbling, "You're Lawrence, right?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Your sister's... Cara? Sarah? No, no," you paused to think, his frown deepening as you seemed so nice and authentic. "Your sister's name is Natalie, right?"

"Yeah," he half-smiled. "You know her?"

"She's a sweetheart, has those cute glasses? Yeah, I like her; she just joined cheer, right?"

"Yeah, that's her."

You eyed him for a moment, ignoring the blood dripping off you both from the beat down; then whispered with a sniffle, "Is that why you helped? 'Cause your sister's on the cheer squad, too?"

"No," he replied instantly, sounding quiet (like you), "I'd like to believe if I saw something I know is wrong... I'd be the type of person to step in, try to stop it."

"You did tonight."

"I should've done more a lot sooner."

"You could've been really hurt, Law."

"Like you?"

"I'm just - look, two guys? Beatin' on me? Yeah," you scoffed, wiping blood from your split lip, "like I ever stood a chance. But you didn't have t'do all that, they wanted Billy, found me instead. You could've walked away, but instead, you jumped in, and you could've been really hurt. That wouldn't help anyone."

"I'm still sorry..."

You sniffled, but before you could respond, you heard footsteps thundering over the lawn; a voice shouting your name in frantic, panicked little outbursts. Looking up, you caught sight of a black leather jacket and unruly blonde curls, frowning deeper. "Oh, fuck," you whispered, withdrawing into yourself, "oh, no, no, not now. Not now, Goddamnit. Think I can make a run for it to the street before he sees me?" You asked Law quietly, nearly hissing your whisper.

"Ain't that Billy?" Law asked, finger pointed.

"He can't see me," you rushed in a panic, eyes wide and tears welling. "Lawrence, he can't!"

"Why?"

"He'll go on a fucking rampage, Lawrence! Ever heard going postal? Yeah, Bee gives that shit new meaning."

"They'd deserve whatever Billy wants t'do," Law frowned, tensing up when Billy had turned, caught sight of you two, and made an angry beeline for you in the grass. "U-Uh, Billy's approaching," he warned you as your boyfriend arrived, trying to pull back to give privacy, but wincing in pain that made him stop.

"The fuck is going - ? Oh, my fuckin' God," Billy trailed off, then whispered when he saw you huddled on the ground; your dress in tatters. Your head was bowed, knees drawn in, refusing to meet his eyes; making your leather-clad boyfriend lower himself to a knee. "Baby? Hey, look at me, sweet girl, lemme see... C'mon, baby, please, look at me."

You only sniffled.

"It was Jake and Steven," Lawrence told Billy, trying to find his feet; falling over and just giving up.

"Hell happened to you, man?"

Lawrence frowned, looking nervous, but your voice answered, "He saved me, Bee. Jumped in, took some of the beating."

Billy looked between you and Lawrence, but focused on you - seeing the injuries to your face and chest in full light. "Oh, my God," he breathed, looking you over in shock. Those pink, pillowy lips you adored licking and sucking on were parted in shock.

You half-smiled, "Think you pissed a few of the wrong guys off."

"Jesus Christ, sweet girl. What happened? Tell me, please, before I start making assumptions," he demanded, reaching for your cheek - making you recoil hard enough that your head banged on the house supporting your exhausted body. "Hey, hey," he whispered, looking physically wounded by your action, "'s just me, baby, it's just me, it's Bee, I'm not gonna hurt you. C'mon, sweetheart, lemme help you."

You sniffled, letting him reach for you again and caress your cheek so he could direct your head left and right; giving him a full view of your injuries that continued to weep. He stiffened as he took note of a new cut or bruise upon every new sweep of his eyes, his anger skyrocketing with every passing moment.

"It hurts," you whimpered. "Apparently, you beat the shit outta those guys weeks ago - guess they were waiting for an opening to strike back."

"You don't deserve this," he growled angrily. "Fuck - look at you! Goddamnit, I'm so sorry, princess, this is my fault. All my fucking fault, shit," he hissed, looking close to tears, "I put you here, I'm so sorry, baby."

"Got Lawrence his ass beat, too," you pouted.

"Sorry about this, man," Billy instantly offered the other boy, who was practically slumped over in the grass. He still managed to give a thumbs up. "But, uh, thank you for stepping in. You know, not a whole lotta people would."

"Nah, it was the right thing to do," Law frowned, waving him off.

"You said Jake and Steven did this?"

"Mhm," Law nodded. "Jake Chastain and Steven Barton."

"Yeah, I know 'em," Billy shook his head, "and I'll fuckin' kill 'em - "

"Can we get cleaned up first? Before we go murdering high school jocks?" You pouted in pain.

"Hey, man. You got a friend here or something? Someone to help us?" Billy asked Lawrence, still caressing your face with his thumb sweeping the apple of your cheek.

"My sister's 'round, yeah..."

"Want me to grab her?" Billy offered awkwardly.

"I'd actually appreciate it," Law whispered. "Gotta get home, yeah?"

"Yeah, man. Stay here, I'll grab her," Billy agreed. "What's her name?"

"Natalie, she's a cheerleader. Um... Y-You dated her beginning of the year?"

"I remember," he sighed, standing to his feet. He told you earnestly, almost sweetly, "I'll be fast."

But the thing is, you knew Billy all too well by now. "Wait, no," you gasped, trying to stand, "Bee, don't!" It was too late, he was already gone by the time you and Lawrence stumbled out from hiding; just in time to watch Billy point Natalie towards where you and her brother were. Then, he turned and surged up to an unsuspecting Jake and Steven; launching an all-out brawl against the two.

Neither of them stood a chance when Billy was THIS angry. Nobody did. In fact, if Jason, Tommy H., and two other guys hadn't pulled him back, surely, there'd be a lot more than a couple of broken bones. However, when Billy told the other basketball players in a spit-flying rage that these two cowards had attacked his girlfriend (a few turning back to get a look at you), it launched a new, mutual anger. Chrissy and a few other cheerleaders wanted to step in when the "fight" (more like attack) started again, but when they saw you, Lawrence, and Natalie, nobody said a single word. Nobody interfered. Nobody interrupted, and luckily, nobody else joined in...

Before Jake and Steven could lose their lives or sustain serious injury that would result in any arrests, Billy was pulled back by Lawrence - of all people. "Hey, hey," the beaten boy barked, "hey, man, chill - chill! These guys deserve it, yeah, I fucking know, but look, hey!" He grabbed Billy's shoulders to prevent him from turning back for the fray. "Hey! Your girl needs you, man. She needs you more than these bozos. C'mon, you can't go to jail over this shit, right? Right? How mad you gonna be if you get bagged 'cause of these jackasses?"

This seemed to force Billy back to reality and out of his homicidal rage. A few dudes who played football stepped in to hoist the unconscious jocks over their shoulders just to leave them on the curb a couple houses down the street.

Billy raced back to you.

Chrissy and Natalie were helping wipe blood from your skin and hair; clothes damaged, ripped, stained, beyond repair, and another cheerleader was holding a bag of frozen peas to your head as you leaned on her stomach. He slid his jacket from his shoulders, easing you off the girl's belly to leave it around your trembling form and then taking the girl's spot, supporting your body as you were tended to.

Eventually, Chrissy sighed, "I think that's the best we're gonna get you, honey. You want us to come over in the mornings? Help you get dressed and do your make-up?"

"No offense, but I don't think that's necessary... It's not like what happened is a secret," Natalie whispered, looking you over.

"Make-up might irritate the injuries," the other girl offered softly. "But it might cover some of those bruises, I just would avoid the cuts."

"I'm okay, girls, but thank you," you assured softly. "Bee's here t'help."

"Yeah, taking you straight to the hospital," he decided stiffly from behind you.

"What?"

"Think I'm not gonna get you checked out after this? Two men attacked you, I gotta make sure ain't shit's seriously wrong, baby. Don't fight me on this, please."

Billy's mind was warped with memories of sitting in ER's and other clinics with his mother nursing a broken wrist or damaged eye socket. His father's anger had always been a temperamental switch, something Billy felt he always had to outdo. Being in the hospital with you felt too similar, another bolt of rage zinging through his blood; hating the idea that you were the victim, and like his mother, he wasn't able to protect you.

Unlike his mother, this situation was directly his fault. He didn't even remember why he beat the shit outta Steven and Jake all those weeks ago, but whatever the reason, it cost him now. Cost you both.

The party continued inside the house, but Billy walked around the side yard, down to the front, then towards the street full of parked cars with you secure in his arms. After getting you settled safely in the passenger seat of his Camaro, Billy rightened and shut the door; seeing Lawrence and Natalie approaching their own car, the bag of peas now held to his jaw and cheek.

His sister was under his arm, helping him hobble. Billy gulped, realizing Lawrence was beat to hell, too, and if he hadn't jumped in, Lord only knew what state you'd be in now. When the two men caught one another's eye, Billy offered a nod of respect and thanks; the other lad returning it as if to say he was welcome. Billy raced for the driver's door, sliding in, and without turning any music on, drove off towards the hospital.

You were grumpy to be there, but one look at you had the medical staff moving at a quickened pace to help you; offering speedy aid. You were cleaned and cared for; questions regarding the level of assault making you nervous, but you answered honestly that two classmates had jumped you at a party. This meant the police were called; tears in your eyes and down your cheeks when you had to tell Chief Hopper (a close family friend) exactly what happened.

Billy provided their assailant’s full names and promised they wouldn't be in the best shape when (slash if) the two were found.

After hearing your story and writing the names down from Billy, Hopper sighed in empathy, "Kid... Don't admit t'anything."

"I'm not, I'm just making a casual note," Billy countered. "You know, people don't take too kindly to people hittin' a woman. Less so when she's drunk, alone, and they fuckin' stomp on her - "

"All right," Hopper tried to halt his built up anger. "Let's just take a breath here - "

"Uh, Chief?" His deputy interrupted. "Them boys? Uh, a... Jake Chastain and Steven Barton? They were just wheeled in from an ambulance."

"Interesting," Hopper noted, sparing Billy a small look. "From where?"

"A neighbor called them in, said there's a party few houses from her on Hawthorne."

Jim Hopper sighed and turned to you and Billy with his hands on his hips. His face was passively angry. "Sound familiar?" He asked, tongue sweeping over his teeth.

"Yes," you answered for you both, "that's where it happened, Chief."

His eyes softened when he looked back at you. "All right," he nodded, looking to his partner. "Go stand by their room, keep an eye - I'll be there in a second, but the victims made a positive ID. Doc's will treat 'em and we'll book 'em." When left alone, Hopper took a suspicious look around the hospital floor before sliding the curtains shut around your bed; moving to your other side, removing his hat, and kneeling. "Listen, kid," he whispered, taking your hand softly, "I got a daughter at home, too, and if anyone - and I mean, anyone - laid a hand on her the way you were tonight, I'd burn this town to the fucking ground."

Billy snorted in amusement, "Know the feeling."

Hopper nodded, "So believe me when I say, I need to know, off the record, what really happened tonight. Your father will need to know that I am doing everything to help - but I need to know the truth."

"I don't know what to tell you, Hopper," you frowned, matching his quiet tone, "I've told you what I know. I was a few drinks in, stepped outside t'smoke, and that's when they grabbed me, took me t'the side yard, and started wailing on me. I dropped, they kept goin', that's when this other boy stepped in. He got beat up pretty good, too, but he helped get them away. Billy showed up, we came here - "

"I hit them," Billy interrupted, making you squeak lightly. Hopper just laid his other hand over yours so he cocooned it; glancing around the under skirts of the curtains to make sure you remained alone.

Then he asked, "When?"

"After I made sure Y/N was okay," Billy explained, petting a hand over the back of your head; never looking away from Hopper. "I found her friend's sister, made sure someone knew where they were, and then I hit them... And I didn't stop hitting them."

"Kid - "

"Some teammates pulled me off, don't worry - it could've been so much worse. But when the others found out what they did to my girl?" He hissed quietly, "They took matters into their own hands by themselves, sir. My girl was attacked, I couldn't let that just slide, Chief, I hope you understand."

Hopper sighed, "Well, I can't condone the violence, but since it was a group effort, be a helluva lot more paperwork bringing you in versus those two who started it."

Billy nodded absently, your free hand laying over Hopper's to stack. "Did you call my dad?" You asked nervously.

"Not yet," he frowned. "I gotta check on the suspects, but I can after."

"Could you not? For me, please?" You sniffled. "He'll just worry and would get all pissy 'cause his trip has to be cut - "

"He's not home?" Hopper asked in earnest confusion with knitted brows.

Your head shook, "Chicago for the week."

"He left eight days ago," Billy snipped.

"Bee," you reprimanded sharply.

"Hey," Hopper squeezed your hand, "it's okay, you're over 18, I don't have to call him. But El and I are gonna drop by later with dinners and to check on you, her little friend, too, probably. You know, the, uh... The little red head?"

"Max?" You asked.

"Yeah, her. Nice girl."

"She's Billy's step-sister," you snickered, wincing when your broken ribs protested.

"You should rest," Hopper bid, "and thank you for being honest," he stood to his feet while nodding at Billy. "Tell you what, I won't report you starting the fight - technically... It'll be reported as a randomized group effort after they were caught assaulting Y/N."

Billy nodded, too shocked for words as Hopper patted your hand, placed his hat on, and exited the little curtained room. "Wow," your boyfriend breathed. "Since when are you friends with the Chief of Police?"

"He and my dad go way back," you eased.

"All cops like him?"

"Fuck no, you know that." After a beat, you reached for his hand to lace your fingers with him, "Hey," you bid, "I-I'm really sorry."

"Baby, just - don't even start - "

"No, for earlier, for our fight," you interrupted, "and for feeling petty enough to go to the party alone when I know you don't like that... For drinking, not being more aware like you taught me. I didn't use the buddy-system when I went t'smoke, it was a major fuck-up, I know, but I'm just sorry. I feel like I've disappointed you or something - "

"No, hey, sweet girl," he rushed, sitting on the edge of the gurney to stare at you directly, "don't you ever feel that way - you didn't do nothing wrong. Hear me? You didn't put yourself in this position, you didn't deserve what happened, you didn't - no, just," he sighed deeply, "you didn't do any of this, sweetheart. Okay? If anything... If anything, this is my fucking fault and I'm the one who is so sorry."

Your head shook, but Billy continued,

"They did this to you because of me." Tears filled those sweet baby blues. "Because I don't have a hold of my temper - I fucked them up, so, they fucked you up. This is my fault, I'm so sorry. But look, hey, I'll fix this, okay? I swear to God - I'm gonna fix this."

"The cops got 'em, we don't have t'do anything else," you mumbled. "You don't have to do anything else, Billy."

"Maybe not, but I can't let this go - look at you," a single tear dripped. "Fucking look at you, my sweet girl. In the fucking hospital 'cause of me - I can't - this ain't right. I gotta make it right."

You couldn't answer because a technician was arriving to take you for a CT, MRI, and X-Ray - all of those scans that would tell them what was going on internally. Hopper was seen outside the two boy's rooms - Billy following your bed closely as you where wheeled away. Every scan or test he could remain close for, he was; stepping back when needed, but being sucked right back to your side when able.

By the end of the night, you were released into Billy's care because all patients with head injuries had to have some kind of chaperone, and a few floors up, Steven and Jake were being handcuffed to their hospital beds by Hopper.

"Real lucky I wasn't there when you hit her," Jim Hopper seethed quietly, tightening the cuff on Jake to an uncomfortable grip. "Your parents would need money for your funerals - not bail," he offered one single more glare before leaving the next shift of deputies on duty. He sped all the way home and held Eleven in a suffocating hug.

Turns out, you sustained decent injuries from that night.

A (cleanly) broken ankle. Six different broken ribs. Split lip that required two stitches. Stitched earlobes from where piercings were ripped out. Severely bruised collarbones, bordering on broken. One blackened eye. Along with other generic bruises and cuts, more seemingly discovered as the days drug by slowly.

Billy was ready to mow down anyone in his way at any point, but his only ability to get through the school day was that he saw you everyday afterward. He dropped whatever sport and / or club that held his interest, collecting coursework you missed, then driving Max and "Jane" Hopper to your place. He would've lashed out if this was any other situation, but because you asked him to behave and bring you the materials you needed, he did. He played nice.

The two assailants, Steven and Jake, had been arrested by Jim Hopper. They apparently had a rough ride to the station, but that wasn't here or there. What they did to you was far worse that nobody batted a single lash when the two were brought in the station for booking, looking freshly beat up and bloodied. A judge also rejected their bail.

Billy brought you whatever work you missed during your recovery at home, most teachers shocked to see him so diligent in showing up and making the collections. He didn't understand whatever the teachers told him about the work, but you did - and it was fascinating to him, watching you work or study. He usually sat by your window to smoke, but on the occasion, you asked for a toke and wouldn't care about where the smoke blew. So, as weeks passed, he stopped specifically going over to your window; just leaving it open for ventilation so he could remain at your side.

Anything you needed, he got. He did. He gave you. Guilt was one helluva motivator and Billy was chalked-full; so, he did the only thing he knew he could, being acts of service.

You were laid up, it made sense. He could bring you into the shower, get naked himself and help you bathe. He could carry you downstairs, cook for you, help out around the house by keeping it clean because he knew it stressed you out. He would collect the mail, water plants, do dishes, just turned into a househusband that made your stomach and cheeks feel all warm and fuzzy. Never did you think Billy had the ability to be domestic, but here he was, in your great-grandmother's kitchen, wearing a stained apron while trying to bake cookies while you worked on a physics project.

"Hey, Bee?"

"What's wrong?" He asked instantly, setting the hot tray to the stove.

"No, hey, calm down," you smiled with a small laugh. "I was just wondering... You know, like... What's gotten into you?"

"Huh?"

"You know what I mean," you huffed, setting your pencil down. "You literally haven't let me out of your sight except when you're at school."

He shrugged, "You need help."

"You don't ask if I do."

"I don't need to ask when I can just see it."

"Billy."

He sighed and begrudgingly scraped cookies off the hot tray to rest on the cooling sheets. "Your dad asked me to stay close," he offered.

"Bullshit."

"No, really," Billy insisted. "He's in and out with work, so, he asked me to stick around, just in case."

"Okay, fine, but it's more than that. Billy, tell me the truth, baby, please. It's not a bad thing, I'm just curious what's really going on."

"I'm just... I'm just nervous, you know?"

Your head cocked, "Why's that?"

"Look what happened to you," he chuckled ruefully. "All fucked up, can't even go t'school until your ribs are healed - all 'cause of me. 'Cause I fucked up and went too far - "

"William," you snapped, making his wide, shocked eyes meet yours. "I'm not gonna listen to this anymore. Okay? I know you're sorry, you tell me everyday, andI know you're feeling guilty, but this isn't your fault, you're not the one who put hands on me - "

You flinched when he lobbed the cookie tray into the sink, causing a ruckus, his voice yelling over the noise, "FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

"William!"

"I'm trying to protect you!" He yelled, tears swelling when he whipped around to face you. "I-I don't know what else to do! Look, okay, say what you fucking want, but the truth is, those two assholes came at you 'cause of me. Okay? 'Cause I had to be myself and beat the shit outta them 3 months ago, they never forgave - they didn't forget. I put you in this situation, that now? Now, yeah!" He laughed without humor. "Yeah! I'm fucking nervous leaving you alone! Fuck knows what could happen to you, and who's to say there aren't more people out there just waiting for this kinda opportunity! Baby!" He rushed for you at the kitchen table, your mouth sewn shut in shock as he found his knees in front of you and took both your hands in his. "Baby, listen to me. You're the only thing - no, I'm serious!" He insisted when you looked ready to protest this sentiment you've heard before. "You're the only thing I fucking care about, that I want to protect, and they all know it - I don't exactly hide it. I love you so fucking much, they'd do this again - they'd fucking hurt you to get to me and that idea just..." He sighed, looking lost.

You pulled a hand free to instantly caress his cheek, turning his attention upward until his eyes met yours. "Billy," you whispered, "baby, nobody's after us. This was just a freak accident, this was a fluke, okay? You're worried anyone else is gonna come at me, at us, but I know nobody else is that fucking stupid. They wouldn't test you, and Jake and Steven took advantage of an already bad situation. Okay? We had a fight - which was pretty public. So, people knew we were at odds, and when I showed up at that party alone, started drinking, it was their perfect opportunity to strike."

"You can't say that, we don't know if anyone else is gonna test us," he sniffled. "I've made a lot of mistakes... Pissed a lot of people off. One of them might've grown a pair."

"Okay," you relented, "then I guess we're gonna have to stick together, you know... So you can keep me safe, right?"

He chuckled dryly, "I'm trying, princess."

"Well, we can work out a better way - one that doesn't run you into the fucking ground, Billy, Jesus," you searched his face. "Are you sleeping? At all?"

"'Course I am - "

"Don't lie to me."

He sighed, deflating a little, "I sleep... Only when I stay here."

"Billy, you stay only a couple nights a week when Daddy's home."

"I know."

"So, you basically only sleep when Daddy's out of town and you stay here?" You squeaked, watching him nod; pouting and feeling your own guilt brew. "Baby... Look, can we just agree that this isn't either of our faults? Right? Yeah? If I'm not allowed to think this was my fault, you aren't either."

"I was the one they wanted t'hurt," he shook his head. "They did this 'cause of me, sweetheart, how can you be so - so - fuck! So fucking understanding a-and forgiving?"

"Because I love you," you answered like it was common knowledge, even giving a small giggle.

"That doesn't... But that doesn't even - "

"What? Mean anything? Bee, it means everything," you smiled at him. "I love you, so, when you make mistakes, I forgive you - even though there's nothing you've done. I mean," you winced slightly, "sure, maybe we could reduce the kids you bully or beat up, you know, limit the enemies we might make. And this is something that can be redeemed, can't it?"

He stared at you from the floor, slowly deflating, "Can it? I've fucked up so much, doll, I don't think I deserve whatever forgiveness you wanna give me."

"You can't keep beating yourself up," you snipped. "Hey? Hear me? Look, it happened - it fucking sucked, but it happened and it's fucking over. We both need one another to help move on, okay? So, I need you back, Bee, I need my man back because we need to get through this together. You don't get to sulk in your guilt, I don't get to stew in my regret, we need to help each other out of this."

Billy sniffled, "How? How do we move on when you've still got stitches in your lip?"

"They'll dissolve in a few days," you shrugged meekly. "We move on together, okay? Maybe you pick up basketball again, try to distract yourself. Billy, we need some normalcy again, right? You know?"

"Doll, being away from you makes me feel like my lungs are gonna pop," he shook his head. "I'm afraid something might happen if I'm not there, it's fucking scary after finding you in your own blood."

"Then I'll be at every practice," you eased. "You can drive me to and from school, then you know where I am - you'll know I'm safe."

Billy stared at you a moment, fully dropping to the floor as his energy finally drained. He ran a hand through his hair, rustling the curls, admitting in a soft voice, "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to not feel so guilty, how to move forward."

"There's no playbook," you agreed. "Guess it means we gotta figure it out ourselves, but again, we do it together. C'mere," you sighed, lowering yourself to the floor with your booted ankle held out.

"No, don't - "

"Fuck off, I'm not totally unable to do shit," you grunted, adjusting yourself and reaching for him. "Come here, please, I wanna hold you! Been cuddling me this whole time, lemme be the big spoon, please."

"Just told me to fuck off, sweetheart, kinda sending some mixed signals, aren't'cha?" He chuckled, turning so his back was to your chest; leaning so you supported him in his slump. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he muttered, holding the arm around his collarbones. "I really - if I knew this was gonna happen, I'd never of fought them."

"I know, and I forgive you," you whispered in his ear. "But we can't keep doing this back and forth, okay? I forgive you, Billy, no more apologies."

He sighed, "Yeah... All right..."

"Steven and Jake are arrested, we won't have t'see them again. Hopper will make sure of that," you smirked against the shell of his ear. "And the doctors said I should be good to return to school next week, but I'm out of cheer and everything."

He groaned, "Just something else I've fucked up for you."

"Oh, please, I love the time off," you teased. "Gives me all the time I need to watch my man on the court, huh?" He half-chuckled at your words. "You know I'm ahead in all my classes now, too? Teaching myself at home is far superior than the teacher's bitching at us for eight hours."

"You're gonna love college, baby," he chuckled, the two of you lulling into a comfortable silence. You held him tightly, nuzzled into his neck; both sitting in your emotions, trying to navigate a way out.

"We good?" You whispered.

"We're good," Billy agreed, just as soft. "No more apologies... Try to have less guilt. But you're gonna let me stay close, right?"

"I want you clinging to me so hard, I can't fucking breathe," you smirked. "And if Daddy really asked you to stick around, then you're welcome to stay here longer, even if he's here... Where I can have you close to me," you whispered, licking the skin under his ear. He stiffened.

"No - you better not," he squirmed when you licked again, adding a little teeth in a scrape.

"Billy," you pouted. "It's been weeks!"

"You're still hurt," he argued, turning on the floor to look at you. "I'm not gonna be responsible for breaking another of your ribs 'cause we were horny."

"I'm doing so much better, though!"

"Tell you what," he smirked. "Next business trip of your dad's, I'll fuck you all weekend - wherever you want, however you want."

"He has one in two weeks."

"Mhm, and you have a check up before he leaves."

You eyed him for a moment, "When did you become responsible?"

"I've always been."

"No, this is new. You're remembering dates and my doctor appointments and my dad's work schedule."

"Maybe I just like taking care of you," he whispered against your lips with a growing smirk. After pecking you lips, he quipped, "So, shut up and let me."

"Yes, sir."

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

[grippingbeskar]

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

[creepswrites]

TIRED OF RUNNING | Sinclairs x Reader

YET ANOTHER REWRITE i have no idea why Tired of Running is so popular but i've always been proud of it :) the original can be read here but i will be rewriting all existing chapters to finish it!!

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN!READER (they/them)

SUMMARY: "We got a visitor, Vince." Bo said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Vincent work. The latest sculpture was of a woman in a flapper dress, perfect for the House of Wax. He nodded, assuming it was just Lester. Though he didn't see a reason why Bo would bother him just for that. So, regrettably, he looked up from his work. "They got kids."

WARNING: mentioned child abuse

Sighing, you hit your head on the wheel with an exhausted groan. The Louisiana heat had been suffocating you ever since the AC sputtered to nothing a few hours ago. You'd left the windows open to prevent frying the inside of the car but it was still too hot. Even after living here for a few years, you never got used to the heat. It was fall for god's sake…

You lifted your head and tried to blink back the drowsiness aching behind your eyes. Driving for a week now had exhausted you and the heat wasn't doing you any favors. Everything felt warm and sleepy, making it difficult to focus on the road. A glance at your gas tank only made you groan. Nearly empty tank with no cell phone reception and two kids to take care of.

Speaking of kids, you glanced at the rearview mirror. Your twin boys - Peter and Michael - were passed out in their carseats and dead to the world. They were good kids, rarely fussy, and full of energy. They were why you'd been on the road for so long. You'd fled home with whatever belongings you could pack in your car and never looked back. Seeing their peaceful faces reminded you that it had been the right decision. Watching your ex husband strike Mikey for "misbehaving" had been your last straw. They were only two years old and he expected them to just simply know what behaviors were acceptable without teaching them anything.

He'd been the one who wanted kids yet showed no real interest in parenting. That had all been on you.

Which led you to where you were: off a dirt backroad in the middle of nowhere with the sun setting in an hour. If it had just been you, you would have sucked it up and walked to the nearest town in search of help. But with two toddlers, the feat seemed impossible. You didn't want them getting lost or hurt in the dark with no way of you helping them.

You got out of the car to survey your situation. The road you were on was mainly dirt and not well traveled. You hadn't even been certain they were roads if not for the signs just before you'd turned. Grass grew in wild, untamed patches and stretched out into a field to your left while the forest was close to your right. The trees offered minimal shade but were better than nothing. At least it was cooler under them instead of your hot car. But the prospect of sleeping in the dirt didn't sit well with you. Who knows what animals were even out there.

You pressed the heel of your hands to your eyes and tried not to cry. This was absolutely the worst possible thing that could have happened. If your husband was following you, which he most certainly was, then it was only a matter of time until he found you.

So you slid down the side of your car to sit against the wheel and curl in on yourself. It had been awhile since you cried since your husband would slap you for it, threatening to give you something to really cry about. You'd only withstood the abuse for so long because you didn't want Peter and Mikey to grow up in broken homes. But after you noticed they were being hit, you couldn't stay still. It had still been hard and you kept second guessing yourself all week if you were doing the right thing.

Hopefully you were.

A few hours passed before your luck changed. The sun had just begun to set, painting the skies in pinks and purples like a beautiful watercolor painting. It was finally cooler out now too, the breeze brushing your arms and face periodically. You'd just finished feeding the boys whatever food you had left in the duffle bags still and had decided to let them play in the little clearing nearby. You'd all been cooped up in your tiny car for days and you could tell they needed a break. They promised to stay close to you, running around nearby with sticks and their toys. Peter roared, running up to you with a tiny blue T-rex in hand. "'m gon' eat you!" He giggled.

You scooped him up and held him in your lap, watching his brother poking at the dirt with a stick. "Mikey, don't wander too far okay?" 

Mikey didn't answer and you sighed. He always had problems listening, always content to drift off in his own world without a second thought. You'd read a book about childhood trauma and worried about Mikey sometimes. You stood up and were about to approach him when you heard the sound of a car rumbling. You'd never understood the phrase "your life flashes before your eyes" but in that moment you did. "Mikey!" You shouted, white-hot horror shooting through you. "Peter, get in the car!" 

As soon as Peter squirmed out of your arms, you shot off like a rocket towards Mikey. His wide, terrified eyes were trained on the car headlights, which felt like a spotlight as you picked him up. The ground was illuminated with bright white light, making it impossible to hide from whoever this was. You practically threw Mikey into the car, slamming the door behind him and locking them inside.

The truck came to a stop and you faced it, squeezed your eyes tight, and prepared for the worst.

You heard the sound of the car door open and you turned to face the figure. When he finally stepped into the light, you nearly cried from relief. It wasn't your ex nor any of his friends. You felt your knees give out as a sob wracked your body, the adrenaline crash hitting you hard.

"Woah, woah!" The guy said, hurrying over and crouching in front of you. "Hey, it's alrigh', I ain't gon' hurt'cha." His voice was calm, the southern drawl making your eyes feel heavy. The headlights obscured a lot of your vision but you could make out his face. He was a little scruffy, covered in dirt, and looking at you with more concern than anyone had looked at you with in quite some time. "Shh, it's alrigh', you're okay…" You could tell he was scrambling, unsure how to help you but desperate to do so.

"S-sorry," you babbled through broken sobs. You didn't know what else to say and you couldn't stop the tears. "I- I thought you were- I'm sorry, my ex, he-"

He took you in his arms, hugging you to his chest. He was warm and smelt of dirt and rot but you didn't even care. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been hugged. Over the years, your ex had isolated you from your friends and most of your family so you knew it had likely been a good few years. So you wrapped your arms around his neck and sobbed.

But he didn't falter. "Shh, 's okay, you're okay. I gotcha." He rubbed slow circles in your back and smiled down at you, like an angel come to save you. "Y'ain't gotta 'pologize. I ain't mad."

You sniffed, wiping your eyes and leaning back slightly to look at him better. Definitely scruffy but charming in his own way. The look on his face was impossibly soft, so unfamiliar to you yet you craved that gentleness. "Sorry, I, um, I'm on the run. My ex, he, uh… Well, doesn't matter now. I got myself and my boys out 'n that's what matters."

The stranger's eyes widened slightly. Bright and pretty and you felt safe under his gaze, for some reason. "Your boys?"

You nodded and started to stand. He didn't hesitate to offer his arm, letting you steady yourself on him when you felt your head swim. "Yeah, they're in the car. Probably scared 'em shitless with my screaming." Your legs felt unsteady when you walked and you didn't miss the way the guy hovered, like he was braced to catch you if you fell. It was sweet.

You swung your car door open and the boys peered up at you, scrambling to try and hide their animal crackers. "Boys," you sighed, "What did I say about desserts?"

"To ask." Peter said plainly, too distracted by the stranger. "You're dirty, mister."

"Peter-!" You gasped, ready to apologize on his behalf.

But the man just laughed, clapping his hands together in his amusement. "Yeah, yeah, y'ain't wrong lil guy. Been workin' all day, hauling dead stuff 'round."

Peter looked morbidly intrigued, scooting closer to whisper like the two of them were sharing a secret. "Like… dead people?"

"Nah, nah, nothin' like that." The guy knelt down to talk with him easier, lowering his voice as well. "Animals who, uh, get hit by cars. Ain't got anyone to take care'a them, ain't like pets. So I come 'round 'n clean 'em up off the road."

Nodding slowly, Peter reached behind him and held out one of his dinosaur toys. "Have ya seen one'a these?"

The man seemed bewildered but offered him a sincere smile. "Nah, but, uh, if I do, I'll let'cha know, 'kay?"

Peter seemed satisfied with that answer and went back to his crackers. "I never got your name." You said as the man stood back up.

"Name's Lester." He gave you a gap-toothed grin, tilting his cap in a greeting. "Was headin' back home 'n saw yer car. Figured I'd come check on ya."

You smiled, hugging yourself shyly. "I, uh, ran outta gas. And with the boys, I can't exactly walk for help. No cell service either."

Lester frowned, scratching at his face as he seemed to think it over. He surveyed the three of you before looking out towards the setting sun. "Well, I ain't usually do this," he drawled slowly, "But there's a town nearby. 's called Ambrose. Could drive ya there so y'all could sleep for the night. An' in the mornin', we can swing by the gas station 'n get some gas for yer car."

"Really?" You stared at him with your mouth agape. "You- You'd help? Wh-what's the catch?" You couldn't accept he'd do this for nothing. If being with your ex taught you anything it's that no one was good for no good reason.

He smiled again, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Ain't no catch, honest. Jus' breaks my heart to see ya so freaked out."

You rubbed your arms nervously. "Sorry. I, um, thought you were my ex…"

Lester's face screwed up. "Well, whoever he is, hope he goes to hell if he'd scare ya that badly, sweetpea." 

Sweetpea was new. You felt your face warm up and you looked away shyly. He seemed trustworthy and he was cute, in a scruffy boyish way. You liked him. "I- I really appreciate it, Lester."

"'Course. Got two brothers'a my own so I get it." He watched you open your trunk and shuffle the bags around. "They ain't as well behaved as yer boys though."

Shouldering two of the bags, you snorted. "Yeah, you see 'em when its bathtime, then talk to me 'bout behaving."

The two of you were able to move most of your belongings along with the boy's car seats without issue. The truck smelt of rot and you scrunched your nose up when you spotted the dead deer in the back. "Sorry," Lester said, noticing your gaze. "Was workin' when I caught'cha. I promise everythin' in the car is clean though."

"It's okay." The smile you gave him was genuine even if he seemed surprised by it. "You're helping me. I ain't gonna shame you for your work. 'sides, someone's gotta do it, y'know?"

Lester, incredibly, gave you a surprised little smile as he watched you round up the boys. "Yeah. Yeah. You get it."

"The car smells weird." Peter said bluntly as you fastened him into his seat. Mikey had gone quietly, only squirming a little to voice his discomfort at being buckled in. He never liked confined spaces.

"Be nice, Peter." You shot him a look. "Lester's being kind to us, be kind to him, yeah?"

Peter glanced over at the man and smiled, all gap toothed and sweet. "Thank you for helpin' Mr Lester."

"'Course, lil man." Lester said, climbing into the front seat and rooting around in the glovebox. "Always happy to help." 

You climbed into the passenger seat beside Lester and felt the truck rumble to life. The truck was clearly old but you could tell Lester loved it dearly and took good care of it. Even if the engine shook the whole frame. The homemade charms littered with bones and feathers rattled like raindrops and he let out a little cheer. From out of the glovebox, he pulled out an old air freshener that smelt of disgustingly fake pine and strung it over the rearview mirror. "Best I got for the smell, sorry." He said with a sideways smile.

Your heart clenched. He was so kind to you for no reason and you almost teared up from the sweet gesture alone. "Thank you."

The truck rattled and the skull sitting on the dashboard unnerved you but you brushed it off. He worked with dead animals, something about it all just made sense. The boys didn't seem to care too much, happily nodding off only ten minutes into your drive.

"So how old're they?" Lester asked in a hushed voice, trying to not wake them.

"Just turned two a few months back. Twins, if you can believe it." You chuckled, sparing the boys a glance. They weren't identical in the slightest which you were slightly grateful for. You didn't want to be one of those parents who dressed their twins to look even more the same. "But, um, I guess they got to be too much for my ex. Managed to get out 'bout a week ago and we've been on the road since."

You felt Lester glance at you, giving you a once over. Unlike with most men, you didn't find yourself repulsed by his gaze. "He put his hands on ya?"

Shrugging, you turned your attention to the window to watch the trees. The sky was slowly getting darker, making them look like just black voids. At that moment, you became hyper aware of the ring still on your finger. The compulsion to throw it out the window was strong. "Yeah. A few times." You confessed quietly, closing your eyes to keep yourself from crying again. "More the boys than me, which kills me."

You didn't miss the way Lester's hands clutched the wheel tighter. "Well, there's a special place in hell for people like that. 's fuckin' repulsive." He grumbled that last part, like he didn't want the boys to hear it.

It made you laugh though. "You're right… It's just refreshing to hear." You tried to swallow around a lump in your throat. "All his friends were the only friends I had. Was allowed to have. And none of them were interested in helping me, much less believe me."

Lester scoffed. "Scumbags, the lotta'em. What happened ain't your fault, sweetpea don't let any of 'em get in your pretty lil' head that you did anythin' wrong." He paused, chewing on his lip before sighing. "My dad, he wasn't always the kindest to my brother. An' don't go telling this to nobody, ya hear? But I always hated folks who can jus' hurt their loved ones and keep goin' 'bout their damn business. Like it ain't botherin' em."

You knew he was right. It still brought tears to your eyes to have someone believe you. Someone who had no idea what your situation was and he was still defending you. Like your ex had no reason good enough for Lester to even ask about.

You definitely liked Lester.

"Town's just up this way," he said softly. The sight of streetlights was almost relieving to you after a long day of being on the road, hopping from gas station to gas station and only stopping at motels long enough to sleep. "Might get a lil' bit bumpy." 

Bumpy was an understatement. You almost thought you'd crashed as you felt the wheels bounce against rocks, shaking the car so violently you felt sick. Your arm shot out to try and catch your balance against the window and you only let out a breath when the truck came to a complete stop.

You and Lester shared a wide-eyed look. "Forgot to lay the planks down." 

Nothing about it was funny. But after the evening you had, you couldn't help but laugh. A genuine laugh. Something you hadn't done in a long time.

When Mikey began to cry from being woken up so violently, Lester got to him before you could. "Shh, s'alright lil' man, go back to sleep, shhh." He reached behind his seat to brush at his knee. "Sorry, almost there bud, jus' a bit further."

Eventually, Mikey settled back down, sniffling until he fell back asleep. When Lester sat back in his seat, he noticed your staring. "You have kids of your own or something? You're a natural at that."

He looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy chuckle. "Nah, but, uh, used to babysit 'round here. Was always good with kids, I s'pose."

With the car on paved roads now, the drive up to the town was smooth. As expected of a tiny town, nobody was outside. The lights in the little shops were out and the houses were all dark. Except one house atop a hill, lit up like a lighthouse in a sea of darkness. Lester drove towards it and pulled to a stop just outside. It was a modest house, paint peeling off in places along the outside and cobwebs in high places of the awning over the door. "What's this place?" You asked as you quickly followed Lester out of the car. You were incredibly appreciative of Lester’s good deed but his car did smell like rotten meat. 

Hopefully he wouldn’t be too offended.

"Family home. Inn's prolly closed for the night but I betcha my brothers'll let ya stay for the night." Lester said as he opened the backseat and began to undo the straps of Mikey's car seat.

You were struck silent. "I- Lester I can't impose on your-"

There wasn't any time to protest as the front door swung open. A large man stood there, dressed in a mechanics jumpsuit and wearing a hat over thin curly hair. "Les? The hell's this?"

Lester smiled all innocently, like this was a perfectly normal thing for him to do. "Heya Bo. Brought guests."

Bo stared you both down before running a hand over his face in exasperation. "When I toldja to come by for dinner, I ain't meaning to bring your pretty lil' girlfriend with ya."

You blushed and stammered but Lester spoke up, lifting a sleeping Mikey into his arms like he was a precious artifact. Bo took notice and his eyes widened at the sight. "I, uh," he stammered inelegantly. "What's with the, uh…"

"His name's Mikey." You mumbled, suddenly feeling unwelcome. It wasn't uncommon for people to look at you strangely for the twins, like they were some curse. Or maybe it was just your exes friends who felt like that.

Bo nodded slowly. "Mikey. Right." He looked at Lester and stepped aside, letting him pass into the house with your baby. "Well then. You folks like lasagna?" 

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Whenever Les comes to visit for the eve, Vince always makes lasagna. Easy for him to take home 'n whatnot." Bo gave you a warm smile as he approached you slowly, like he was afraid you'd bolt. "If my lil' brother thinks you're good people… Well, I'm obliged to trust him. He ain't ever been wrong."

You watched Bo grab the bags you brought, only hesitating when he saw Peter, also fast asleep. "Sorry, um, I can-" You stuttered, reaching for the bags in Bo's hands.

He held onto them though, tilting his head towards Peter. "Don't even think 'bout it. You just bring your lil' one in. The gentlemanly thing to do is carry the bags." Bo gave you a flirtatious wink and went back inside.

You were left standing in the chilly, night air. The only light came from the inside of the house, which bathed the front porch and gravel walkway in warm, yellow light. You were cold and confused and absolutely exhausted. A part of you screamed against all instinct to accept their help, to trust these strangers. It had been so long since you'd trusted anyone, after all. You were desperate.

So you did.

Peter was already blinking awake from his short nap when you pushed the screen door open more and took in the house. It was a comfortable state of disarray. Throw pillows were propped against the couch at odd angles, family photographs decorated the walls in mismatched frames, and the room smelt of meat, cheese, and marinara sauce.

Lester and Bo's heads snapped to look at you. They'd clearly been whispering but they both smiled at you when you entered. Mikey was sitting on the couch, still a little bleary eyed, curled up against one of the velvety throw pillows that looked rustic and homemade. You sat Peter down beside him, brushing hair from their sleepy faces, and tried to ignore the brothers whispering. "Sorry," you mumbled as you approached them.

They both seemed surprised. "Why're you sorry?" Bo asked with a frown. "Y'ain't got nothin' to be sorry 'bout."

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, hung head low like a child being scolded. Fawn, your brain screamed. Fawn and they won't hurt you. "'m intruding with two kids, I- I know I'm not supposed to have come here, I just- Lester said the inn was closed, I didn't know where else to go, my car broke down-"

Lester cut your spiraling off by taking your hand and squeezing gently, grounding you. "Hey, hey, sweetpea," he kept his voice low and soothing, "We're happy to have ya. All three'a ya. Honest."

Bo nodded along, frowning at how quickly you retreated inwards. Lester had mentioned to him very briefly while you were outside about how your ex laid hands on you and the boys. It was what got him fully on board with offering you help. So seeing you like this broke his heart just that little bit more.

"I'm gonna go talk to Vince, let him know we got guests." Bo said as he swung open the basement door. "Les, make sure our guests are comfortable, yeah?"

Lester nodded, humming his agreement as he pulled you to his chest for a hug. You went willingly, your hands curled up in the fabric of his shirt as he hooked his arms around your shoulders. "Yeah, I got 'em." He said, shooting his brother a smile as he hugged you.

Bo nodded and descended to the basement.

Vincent hated to be disturbed while working. His brothers especially knew how entranced he'd get in a project, focused on perfecting every piece. Their mother had made him an incredible artist, which often meant he'd neglect everything, even himself, for the sake of his work. Oftentimes, Lester or Bo had to come downstairs to make sure he didn't collapse from exhaustion or dehydration. Especially when summer hit and the basement's heat was suffocating.

So Vincent didn't even lift his head when Bo came to a stop in the entryway, too focused on mending a crack in the cheek of his sculpture. "We got a visitor, Vince." Bo said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Vincent work. The latest sculpture was of a woman in a flapper dress, perfect for the House of Wax. 

He nodded, assuming it was just Lester. Though he didn't see a reason why Bo would bother him just for that. So, regrettably, he looked up from his work.

"They got kids."

And that made Vincent straighten up. "Kids?" He signed slowly, like he wasn't sure he heard him right.

"Yeah." Bo said through a sigh. "Two lil' guys. Too old for breastfeedin' but too young for preschool. Hard to say though, been awhile since any of us were that old." He chucked humorlessly.

Vincent looked towards the wax figure slowly. "We promised Lester we wouldn't hurt children."

Bo nodded, looking annoyed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. They're a pretty lil' thing too. Would be perfect for the museum, but, of course, Lester found 'em first."

"They can't see me," Vincent suddenly became frantic. "The children will be afraid."

The other man winced, hissing through his teeth. "Sorry bro, already promised your cookin' tonight." But Bo didn't seem that remorseful, even when his twin leveled him with an unimpressed look. "When's dinner, by the way?"

"What time is it?" Vincent signed, finally aware of the passage of time. It was easy to get lost in his work, though he promised himself he'd only come down for a few minutes to double check something. But it was easy for him to get lost.

"'s only quarter past 9. Why?"

Vincent finally moved, hurrying past. Bo was only able to make out "oven" before his brother was out of sight.

Thankfully, nothing was burnt. Vincent hadn't even spared you a glance yet, too focused on not burning the house down. Once the food was set atop the stove to cool down, he turned around to face you.

You were sat on the couch with Lester and the boys, who were trying their best to stay awake. "You must be Vincent," you said with a sniff. You knew your eyes were red from crying. Lester had sat with you, holding you while you wept. It was hard, feeling cared for. Especially by strangers.

Pain was familiar. This kindness overwhelmed you.

Vincent became shy when you addressed him, hiding behind long hair and doing his best to keep out of your sight. But Bo, never one to let his twin have peace, grabbed his arm to keep him from hiding. "Yep, managed to finally pull 'im outta that basement for dinner. Whaddya say, Vinny? You up for a proper meal with our guests?"

If looks could kill, Bo would have erupted into flames, reduced to ashes on the carpet. "Do I have a choice?" Vincent signed, managing to look annoyed even behind his mask.

"Nah." Bo smiled, all teeth and no kindness. "You set the table, I'll get enough chairs ready."

Lester turned to you, brushing stray tears away. His heart hurt when you'd started bawling after Bo left, babbling to him that you felt horrible for intruding and forcing his family to help you just because of the kids. He swore if he ever got his hands on your ex, they'd wish Vince or Bo had gotten to them first. "You okay?" He asked you gently, giving you what he hoped was a sincere smile.

You nodded, sniffing once. "Yeah, um, sorry for-"

"If you 'pologize to me for cryin', I'mma beat the ever lovin' shit outta your ex, sweetpea." Lester said, relishing in your chuckle. "We're happy to help ya, really."

Sniffing again, you nodded and wiped your eyes. "I really appreciate it. More than I think you know."

The look he gave you was impossibly soft. Like you were something precious. Lester's hand cupped your face as he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, making your mouth fall open in surprise. "You deserve it, sweetpea. Y'really do." 

Bo coughed, making Lester roll his eyes. The two shared pointed looks before Bo turned to you. "Your lil' ones need high chairs or, uh, somethin'?"

You glanced down at the boys and sighed. "I think they're down for the count."

"You can use my room upstairs." Lester said. "I ain't sleep there much anymore so it oughta be clean." Before you could even think to protest, he tapped your nose. "And don't you get all apologetic on me. I wouldn't offer it if it weren't alright."

Honestly, you were a bit relieved to get to sleep in a real bed. So you thanked them quietly, gathered the boys up in your arms, and carried them upstairs. "Second door on the right," Bo called up after you.

As soon as your footsteps couldn't be heard on the creaky wooden stairs anymore, Lester was the first to speak. "I hope you two ain't forgotten your promise."

"Lester, I toldja to find someone for the museum-" Bo hissed, anger sharp on his face.

But the younger Sinclair didn't back down. "If Mama knew you two'd killed two lil' boys, whaddya think she'd do? She'd say somethin' 'bout how if someone took y'all from her, she'd raise hell."

"Don't bring Mama into this." Bo glared daggers at Lester.

Vincent knocked on the countertop to get their attention. "He's right. We made a promise."

"We can't fuckin' keep 'em here!" Bo said, careful to keep his voice down.

"Don't gotta." Lester said, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. "They ran outta gas. Let 'em stay the night, drop 'em back off at their car, they'll go on. Ain't no trouble."

Bo groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "Why do you even care so bad?"

Lester flushed, blotchy pink spots on his cheeks, and shrugged. "They're nice. 'n I feel bad. Their ex laid hands on those lil' babies an' I'd do anything to get five minutes alone with that sonuvabitch."

Vincent's eyes widened. "You didn't mention that!" He signed harshly at Bo.

"Didn't exactly have a moment to tell ya." He sighed with obvious frustration. "Fine, alright, we keep 'em for one night. They're gone in the mornin', ya hear?"

The three of them were quiet for awhile, listening to your footsteps overhead as you set the boys up in Lester's old room. "Swear on Mama," Lester said, keeping his voice low, "That I ain't gonna be seein' any lil' boy statues."

"Lester-!" Bo hissed.

"Swear!" Lester shot back. The two were up in each other's faces at this point.

Vincent, ever the peacemaker, knocked on the counter again. "We swear on Mama."

"Don't fuckin' speak for me, freak!" Bo huffed. But Vincent fixed him with a glare and he sighed in defeat. "Fine. Swear on Mama. Ain't nothin' gonna happen to those three."

The youngest seemed satisfied. At that moment, you came back down the stairs, frowning slightly when you noticed them. "Everything okay?" You asked as though sensing the tension in the room.

"Yep!" Lester said with a wide grin. "Hungry?"

"Starving." You smiled back. 

Dinner was awkward at first, especially since you struggled to understand Vincent. But Bo and Lester happily translated and conversation began to flow easier, which you were grateful for.

"So, how long has it just been the three of you?" You asked as you took a bite out of the lasagna. Warm and cheesy and exactly what you needed after a week of gas station food.

Bo hummed as he swallowed. "'Bout ten years now. Went by in a blip, feels like."

"Oh," you frowned, "What happened? If, um, I can ask."

Vincent nodded, still nervously picking at his food. You'd noticed he only ate when you weren't looking so he could lift the mask, which saddened you. He seemed like a nice guy and you wondered what happened in the past to make him hide his face. But you did your best to look away periodically to give him a chance to eat and hopefully let him know it was fine. He probably got enough grief for it as is, you didn't need to add on.

Judging by the slowly disappearing food on his plate, you figured that was the right thing to do.

"Mama got sick. Real sick." Bo sighed sadly. "She was a really great artist, losing her hit the town hard."

"I'm sorry." You said gently. But Lester was the only one of the brothers who seemed sad. Something about that confused you. Why wouldn't they miss their parents?

You took a bite of the food. That wasn't your business.

Vincent began talking about his art then. Bo seemed to roll his eyes and ignored his signing, uninterested in translating. But Lester picked it up in his place, helping his brother talk about his art. He enjoyed painting in his free time but he primarily sculpted with wax.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You sculpt?"

"Vinny's the main artist in the House of Wax down the street." Bo nodded, answering for him. "Maybe t'morrow we'll take you 'n the boys to see it."

Vincent fidgeted with the ends of his hair, clearly embarrassed. You shot him a warm smile. "I'm sure Vincent's art is great. I look forward to it."

Once dinner was over, Bo and Lester disappeared into the living room with a couple of beers so you and Vince had the chance to wash dishes. The peaceful white noise of the running water and the simple swirling of washing dishes was nice after a long day. Vincent helped, taking whatever dish you passed him and drying it, setting it aside on the nearby dishrack.

He seemed to appreciate the silence. You almost wished you knew sign language so you could talk to him beyond yes or no questions. But you tried to ignore the shock you felt when your fingers brushed sometimes.

If he noticed, he didn't bring it up.

The soft sound of crying alarmed you. You spun around and saw Mikey standing in the doorway of the kitchen, sniffing and sobbing silently. He cried for you and ran towards you, wailing for comfort. You'd barely dried your hands before you were reaching down, scooping him up into your arms. "Shhh, it's okay," you soothed him gently, Mikey had always been the more sensitive one. Waking up in a new, unfamiliar place must have startled him, you thought to yourself as you swayed with him gently.

He nodded, whimpering. "Scared."

"I can imagine." You kissed his cheek gently, rocking him like you'd done when he was an infant, needing to be settled before bed. "It's okay baby, you're alright," you repeated the mantra over and over as you heard Vincent turn off the water behind you.

Hearing his heavy footsteps behind you, you turned to face him and shifted Peter so he could see him. The tall man blinked slowly at Peter, tilting his head curiously at your son. "Mikey,, this is Vincent. He and his brothers are letting us spend the night so you and Peter can sleep in a bed." 

Mikey seemed to consider this before reaching up to try and touch Vincent's face. "Hi," he whispered.

Vincent flinched slightly but didn't step back. Instead, he offered his hand for the young boy to grab at. Mikey giggled as he grabbed at Vincent's fingers and hand, seemingly satisfied. "Did you wake your brother?" You asked after a moment and winced when your son nodded. "Where did he wander off to?"

"Over here," You turned your head to see Peter half asleep slumped against Bo, barely even keeping his eyes open. Neither of the men seemed bothered though. Bo even raised his beer bottle jokingly, "Seems he's ready to get drinkin' already." He teased and you snorted.

"God I wish they'd just stay small forever. I can't even imagine them starting school yet, much less drinking." You paled at the mere thought. It seemed like only yesterday they were just born and now you felt nauseous whenever you think about them starting kindergarten. Being away from your kids for extended periods of time felt terrifying.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Vincent signing something to you. Shit. Luckily, Lester translated from his seat on the couch, "He's askin' if ya want help bringin' em upstairs?"

Blinking a few times, you nodded at Vincent with a smile. "Yeah, I'd appreciate it! Here," you adjusted Mikey before passing the toddler into Vincent's arms carefully, "just support him here," you guided his arms to the right spaces and ignored the way your heart melted seeing him asleep in someone's arms. Reminded you of easier times before you and your partner split. "Lemme grab Peter and we can head upstairs." Vincent nodded to you and waited patiently by the stairs as you stole Peter back from Bo.

You felt the pair's eyes on you as you wished them goodnight from over your shoulder and headed upstairs with Vincent trailing behind. He carried Mikey like he was fragile, breakable, and you found it incredibly endearing. You set Peter down onto the bed, nestled back in the little blanket fort to prevent them from rolling off the bed, kissing him softly goodnight. Vincent mirrored your actions with Mikey and just stroked his cheek with his thumb in lieu of a kiss. "Thanks for your help. All three of you," you whispered to him. Vincent looked at you, shadows hiding his eyes from you. "It means the world to me that you're all willing to help. I know the boys appreciate it too." You smiled at him as you stood quietly. "I should get to bed," you trailed off and Vincent nodded but didn't leave the room.

Instead, he reached his hand out towards you before tilting his head, asking permission. You gave him a curious nod and felt his hand touch your cheek, stroking under your eye like he'd done to Mikey. "Night Vincent," you whispered and ignored how your face warmed up.

He shut the door as he stepped out of the room,padding down to rejoin his brothers in the living room. None of them said a word to each other but they all had the same thought: they wanted you to stay.

The next morning, Bo collected your car and brought it to the gas station to fill back up. You'd chatted about your plans to keep going west when he'd mentioned missing you. "Place jus' feels more lively with you 'round, s'all." He'd shrugged, feigning nonchalance. 

You'd gestured to the empty streets before climbing into the passenger's seat. "You sure that ain't just because this town is quiet as is?"

Bo just gave you a smile. 

When you tried to start your car, it seemed to spur, dead. "What the-?"

"Everythin' alright?" He asked, leaning against the window frame.

"It sounds like the battery's dead?" You frowned, trying again to start the car.

Bo jerked his head, urging you to follow him. "Lemme take a look." You followed him around to the hood of your car and he flipped it open. He hummed as he looked around, face screwing up in surprise. "Your fan belt tore."

"My what?" You blinked owlishly at him. He gave you a look of bewilderment and you just sighed. "You definitely know more about cars than me."

He snorted at you and slammed the hood closed. "I don't think I got any in the shop but I could order one for ya and have it in a few days."

That wouldn't do. "I- I need to get back on the road soon." Panic began to rise in your chest and tighten your throat. "If we're found here, then I'd have to…" You didn't want to think about it, you said to yourself as you squeezed your eyes shut. Obviously you had a plan if you got caught but you really, really, didn't want it to come to that.

Bo nudged you gently and gave you a warm smile. "Hey, we'll look out for ya. Ain't no one gonna hurt'cha here in Ambrose. Not get many tourists anywhere, doubt they'd think to look for ya here."

You sighed. You didn't exactly have much of a choice. If your car wouldn't start, you'd just have to wait.

The two of you were walking back to the house and you felt Bo kept glancing at you. Right before you were going to ask about it, he spoke up. "I know ya wanna go see the House of Wax. Which is all fine 'n good, but ya gotta know somethin' 'fore you go there."

"Sure..?" You said plainly.

Bo sighed loudly, rubbing his hand over his mouth. "So, when Mama got sick, Vince had been away at a real good art college." You nodded along to show you were listening. Bo looked guilty. "When she got worse, I needed help takin' care'a her. Lester and I were away workin' and she needed someone at home. So, uh, near her end…" He sighed again. "I called him back home. It's, uh, still a sore spot. Wasn't able to go back, since he got in on scholarships. An' we didn't have the funds anyway, her bills were too much."

The silence was deafening. "I'm sorry." You said, at a loss for words. "I- I won't bring it up then."

"I 'preciate it. He an' I don't talk 'bout it anymore. If he goes with ya, just don't ask."

You nodded, giving Bo a small smile. "I'm sure he doesn't blame you for it."

The man smiled back at you but you could see it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Maybe."

Taking a small sidestep, you bumped your shoulders together. "I know so."

Later that night, things changed.

You'd gone to bed after showering and bathing the boys, the three of you all fast asleep in the bedroom. Vincent and Bo had gone to their own rooms while Lester slept on the couch. None of you heard the two cars that pulled into the town, driving slowly down the streets looking for any sign of life. After no luck at the first few houses, a small group of people approached the Sinclair's house, heavy footfalls making the little porch staircase creak under the stress.

They knocked on the front door and a dog could be heard barking in the backyard.

Lester had stumbled awake in surprise, his brain taking a minute to catch up. No one should be at the door because nobody else was alive in Ambrose. He still went to the door, opening it with a tired yawn. "Yeah?"

A man smiled at him, an acidic look that made bile burn the back of Lester's throat. "I'm looking for someone. Do you happen to know if there's been someone visiting your town?"

Freezing, Lester immediately recognized the man. Even though they'd never met face to face, he knew everything about this man. All child abusers look the same, Lester thought as he recalled his father. They all look like scum.

"Well, I ain't too sure. I work the night shift, I jus' got home. But my brother Bo might'a seen 'em. He works down at the autoshop." He said through a yawn. 

"I'd hope so. Considering their car is in his shop." The man smiled, trying to force his way into the door, calling your name.

Lester shoved him back, slamming the door and locking it with a loud thud. He ignored your ex's screaming as he ran up the stairs. 

Bo was opening his door before Lester could even knock. "The hell're you-?!"

"Guests." Lester panted, frozen in place as he kept an ear out in case your door opened. "Their ex is here."

His brother's eyes widened and he stormed to Vincent's door, knocking once before opening. He tore the blankets off Vincent and shook him viciously. "Get up, get the knives, we got intruders."

Vincent snapped awake, blinking through sleep-mussed hair. "Mm?" He said around his exhausted yawn.

"Intruders! Vince! Now!" Bo snapped. "I'll get my shotgun. You helpin' out, Les?"

Lester huffed, thinking it over. "Y'know I ain't a killer, right?"

Bo didn't have time for this. "You helpin' or NOT, Les?"

The younger brother sighed. "Does dad still keep a spare gun in his office?"

"Did he ever stop?" Bo said with a smirk, pulling his boots on his feet.

Vincent stumbled to his feet, putting his own boots on to sneak back down into the basement. If he went down and through the House of Wax, they could pin the group down. Bo'd meet them head on while Lester slipped around the side of the house to catch the strays. They vowed to make quick work of all of them but save your ex for last.

The Sinclair brothers were going to protect you. No matter what.

[idkwhatever580]

Are you mad?

Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader

Prompt: Natasha is jealous and y/n is a bit sensitive. Y/n overthinks wayyyy too much.

Warnings: slightly toxic nat (in the middle), cheating accusations, cussing, lmk if there’s any I missed.

A/N: I have a good idea for this but idk if it’s gonna turn out. Lmk if you like it and my requests are open! Also she’s so pretty like pepper spray me pleeeeeeaaassseeeee

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n’s pov

Another night full of loud noises and bright lights. This party had no significance. No birthday, no win, no nothing. But Tony Stark will always find something.

Even if it is nothing. He will use it.

So like I was saying, I’m sitting here at this party just wanting to go back to my room. But unfortunately I need to be here for publicity purposes.

I make it through most of the party with minimal effort. Not many people have the urge to talk to me aside from the occasional drunk person. But Bruce comes up to me and sits down with his drink.

Like me, bruce doesn’t really do big interactions and stuff.

Natasha on the other hand, is one of our most popular avengers and the most sought after. So she must deal with people all night. I don’t mind though. She has her fun. And I watch.

Bruce cuts into my thinking with a sigh and I look over at him and say

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He looks at me and shakes his head a bit.

I nod knowing sometimes people just don’t want to talk. But I still leave the offer open.

“Well, if you need to talk I’m here till Natasha gets drunk. Which, knowing her, won’t be for a while.”

He sighs again after a while and turns to me and says

“I like this girl”

I immediately perk up and say

“Ooh! What’s her name? Do I know her?”

He blushes and nods and says

“Who she is is not the problem I’m having”

And I nod my head and say

“Right… so… what is the problem?”

He thinks for a bit and says

“How do I know that she will want me even after she sees the other guy.”

I sigh and take a minute to think about it. That’s a tough one and I don’t want to say the wrong thing. After a second I decide to try a different approach.

“Why don’t you think she will like you?”

He gets a bit awkward and says

“Well, you’ve seen the other guy. You know how he is. How could anybody love a monster like me?”

I frown and say

“I don’t think you’re a monster”

He scoffs and brushes my comment aside and I tilt my head and I say

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

He looks at me and says

“No! No you’re not a monster!”

I nod my head and figure out where I’m going to go with it.

“Do you think Natasha, or Wanda, or the rest of the team are monsters?”

He shakes his head and once again says

“No! I’d never think that about you guys”

I give him a look and then say

“So what makes you think we would think of you any different? Or better yet, she”

He thinks and says

“Well- the other guy, he’s dangerous and scary. And he hurts people”

I nod my head for him to continue

“And I can’t control him.”

I nod my head and sigh. I think for a second while biting my cheek and I say

“Well. Like I was saying. We have all been dangerous and scary before. But that’s not what makes us us right?”

He nods his head and I continue

“And as for your worries about losing control, have you ever thought about the fact that you desensitize him?”

I reference hulk and he shakes his head

I nod mine and say

“Well, I think that maybe you are having a hard time controlling him because you’re constantly fighting with him, and you never really have given him the chance to be anything other than angry.”

He nods his head and says

“Yeah.”

I put my hand on his knee for reassurance and I say

“Bruce, if you take time to learn more about him and if you work with him instead of working against him, then maybe he’d be more willing to work with you as well. Maybe the switch between you and him would come easier even.”

He looks at me and says

“Well how would I do that?”

“Maybe give him a safe space. It sounds weird, but when I am feeling trapped and like I can’t breathe, I freak out and lash out on everyone. Maybe he does the same. Maybe if you give him a space where he doesn’t feel any pressure, then he might be able to work with you better”

He nods his head understanding and says

“Thank you y/n, you always have the best advice”

We hug each other and I say

“Now go get Dr. Cho.”

I smirk when he blushes and I say

“I knew you had a little crush the whole time. Sorry. I couldn’t help but let you have your moment though”

He laughs it off and gets up to go talk with her.

What I didn’t see happening during our conversation is Natasha.

I turn around to see her starring daggers into my soul. I walk over to her with a confused look and say

“Hey baby!”

She has a really tight grip on her drink so I softly take it from her and hand it to a random person who gladly takes it.

She grabs my hand and pulls me to an empty hallway and as she’s pulling me her grip on my wrist hurts and I say

“Ow! Baby you’re hurting me”

She grips tighter as if she doesn’t even hear me. Or maybe she does and just doesn’t care.

She only lets go when we’re in the hallway and I say

“What’s wrong?”

I rub my wrist which now has a growing red mark on it and she says

“What’s going on with you and Bruce?!”

I look at her confused and she says

“Huh? Are you just gonna sit there acting dumb or are you gonna answer me?!”

Her voice is laced with venom. And I say

“Baby I don’t know what you’re talking about”

She huffs and says

“You and Banner! You think I wouldn’t see how you were both giving each other googly eyes and how you put your hand on his knee?! And that hug! God that hug was so touchy!!”

I furrow my eyebrows and say

“Baby nothing is going on between us! He was asking for help about a crush. And I also talked to him about hulk”

She scoffs and says

“You’re lying to me. You’re such a fucking cheater!”

she goes to walk away but I say

“Wait! You don’t get to call me that and just walk away! I didn’t do anything baby”

I try to think on my toes since if I don’t act fast she’s leaving. So I do what my heart says to do.

I pull her into me for a kiss and she melts into it. Once I pull away I know she is calmed down a bit and I brush some stray hairs from her face and say

“Baby, I would never ever in a million years cheat on you. I’m sorry it looked like that but I can assure you I only have eyes for you. And he likes Cho anyways”

She sighs and mumbles

“You’re right. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry”

I nod my head and say

“We’ve still got a few hours before the party is over. We better get back out there before we get in trouble”

She nods her head and leaves promptly. I take a minute and let out a breath. She didn’t even say I love you to me. No kiss. No nothing. Just left.

I look down and my now slightly raw wrist. I sigh and roll my eyes knowing that I have to cover this up before going back so I run to my room and use my makeup skills to cover it up and for good measure I put on a few bracelets. Then I head back down to the stupid party.

I sit in a corner hiding from everyone even more than before. And I think about Natasha. I immediately get lost in my thoughts.

Did it really look like I was cheating? Maybe it did. Maybe I was cheating. I mean. That hand on his knee was weird I guess. I thought I was comforting him though. Oh my god. I was cheating on Natasha! She had every right to be mad at me. God I’m such a bad girlfriend. She should have broken up with me!

“Y/n?”

I snap back into reality when Wanda waves her hand in my face.

She looks worried. I furrow my eyebrows when I feel hot liquid running down my cheeks.

I reach up to touch it and realize I’m crying. I softly look back up at Wanda and then before she can say anything I bolt.

I run to my old room. I don’t stay here anymore since I’ve moved into Natasha’s room.

But there’s still some essential things in there in case someone needs a place to stay.

That someone is apparently me now.

I can’t go back to Natasha. I can’t face her. I’m a fucking cheater. She hates me. That’s why she didn’t say she loves me when she left.

She must not have known how to break up with me. So she just walked away and that’s how she broke up with me.

I snap back out of my thoughts once again and I get in my pajamas and in my bed. It’s not comfortable at all.

I’m only comfy when Natasha is with me. When her warm touch combats my cold one.

Guess Im never gonna be comfortable again. She is leaving me.

A soft knock comes from my door about an hour later. I check the time and see that the party is probably over by now.

I don’t answer but they come in anyways.

“Y/n?”

I look over and see Wanda and she immediately comes over to me and envelopes me in a hug.

“What’s wrong sestra?”

I shrug my shoulders and she says

“Don’t shut me out. Please. It’ll only make whatever is happening worse. Please talk to me”

I sigh knowing she’s right and I try to find the right words but I can’t so I just blurt out

“I cheated on Natasha!”

Her eyes widen in shock but she quickly recovers the best she can and tries to assess the situation before making assumptions.

“Okay. Um. What happened? With who?”

I look down and say

“With Bruce”

She furrows her eyebrows and says

“I thought you were only interested in girls?”

I nod my head and tears are falling but I don’t let them affect me

“I am! I’m only interested in Natasha!”

She is confused and she says

“Okay then how did you cheat on her?”

“Well. During the party Bruce came to me about his crush on Dr. Cho, and I ended up talking with him about her and the hulk. I tried to be comforting for him and I put my hand on his knee. Then we hugged and I went to Natasha and she pulled me out and yelled at me and got all sideways. Then when I tried to clear it up she agreed with it and dropped it but when she left back to the party she didn’t kiss me or say I love you to me or anything! So she just didn’t know how to break up with me for cheating on her!”

Wanda listens to my rant but before I can go any further she stops me and says

“Y/n you did not cheat on Natasha. Sure she might be a bit salty but you didn’t do anything wrong okay?”

I sniffle and nod my head and say

“But she still doesn’t want me”

Wanda shakes her head and says

“No. That’s not true. She loves you. You just need to talk to her about it okay? I’m sure she is missing you right now”

Right as Wanda says that, we hear another knock from the door. And in comes Natasha.

“Y/n? Are you in here?”

She says softly and then sees us together and says

“Oh. Hey.. Are you alright?”

I sniff and nod my head still thinking she is mad at me and Wanda gets up to leave. I try to make her stay but she whispers softly that I need to talk to nat about it.

Wanda goes to nat and says

“Listen and talk okay?”

Nat nods her head and immediately after Wanda steps out she rushes to me and says

“What’s wrong baby?”

I sniffle again. Damn snot. Then I whimper out.

“Are you mad at me?”

She furrows her eyebrows and says

“Why would I be mad at you baby?”

I shrugged my shoulders shutting down a bit but Natasha knows this all too well.

“Baby don’t shut me out. Tell me please”

I sigh once again and say

“You were so mad when you said I cheated on you.”

She shakes her head a bit and says

“No. I was not thinking straight. I let jealousy overtake my reasoning and I blew up at you. It was wrong of me.”

I look up at her and say

“So you’re not leaving me?”

She laughs a bit and says

“You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily did you?”

I giggle a bit from her laughter and I shrug my shoulders saying

“I dunno.”

She pulls me into a tight hug and whispers in my ear

“Baby. I am not breaking up with you. Not now not ever.”

I sigh at her reassurance and nod my head. Then I yawn and she says

“You wanna head back to our room?”

I nod my head and say

“Can we cuddle?”

She frowns at me and immediately gets tense and says

“No”

She starts walking away and I look at her in surprise and bow my head low and say

“Oh. Okay”

I trail behind her and she turns around and starts laughing and says

“Baby I was kidding. Of course we can cuddle”

I look at her and immediately get excited again. She holds her arms open for me and says

“Come here detka”

I run into her arms and hug her. Then she ends up picking me up and carrying me to our room.

She carries me to our room and since I’m already in my pajamas, she just plops me on the bed and gives me a kiss.

Then she trails her kisses down to my neck and I say

“Baby not tonight I’m tired”

She doesn’t listen and keeps kissing me. I go to say something and she suddenly blows a raspberry into my neck and makes me laugh and I say

“Stop! Stop! That tickles!!”

She giggles and pulls away and says

“Sorry. I had to”

I smile and hold my arms out for her to cuddle with me but she pulls away and I pout.

She smiles and says

“I have to get changed first baby. This dress is uncomfortable”

I nod my head and curl up in our sheets.

She comes back and snuggles up behind me. She decides to reassure me once again and says

“I’ll never leave you. Not in a million years.”

I smile and say

“I love you”

She kisses my shoulder and says

“I love you more”

I smirk and combat

“I love you most”

She giggles at our little battle and says

“I love you mostest”

I smirk and say

“I loved you first”

And she scoffs and shoved my shoulder a bit saying

“You can’t use that! It’s not fair!”

I smile at her and say

“Life’s not fair. Suck it up buttercup”

She smiles and kisses my lips and says

“Sleep detka. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow”

I smile and close my eyes softly.

“I love you”

I hear Natasha mumble into my neck and I squeeze the hand that’s wrapped around my waist a bit to say it back without words.

I love you too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: man that took a while. I forgot about this one lol. Don’t forget I take requests!! Not gonna lie I was way too nice to Bruce in this one. I love me some good Bruce slander. So I might make a fic with Bruce slander lolololollll (it’s not the fact that I hate him. It’s the fact that he likes my girl)

[moongreenlight]

What if your brain tells you that nurse!reader from the previous fic was on the field with the boys as an on call medic and gets taken as a POW and ghost is losing his fucking mind?? - like actual feral behavior

Ohhhhhhhhhmygod. Hi? I’m in your walls. So mad I didn’t see this before because I’ve been SLAVING over a Simon fic all week and this apparently is the motivation I needed to put some more batshit insane things on the internet forever.

We all know that Simon is a fucking machine. Prides himself on his ability to essentially turn off his humanity on the field. But for some reason his nurse!reader is the one thing that interrupts that ability. Even seeing you treating a few rowdy privates gets him worked up. Lingers around the medbay in his free time for no apparent reason just to side eye your patients and glare at them to make sure there’s absolutely no possibility of you getting hurt.

There was probably an occasion where you were treating a soldier who didn’t fare well with pain. Moaning and crying and thrashing while you did something simple like tuck their arm into a sling, and they somehow writhed around enough to hook you in the cheek with their elbow. Nothing serious, but it left an angry red mark on your cheek for so long that he caught it on one of your evening walks around base. Usually after dark so you could both avoid being found out.

And then the next day you see Simon dragging that same soldier to a different nurse’s bed under the armpits. Explaining gruffly that he went unconscious because he couldn’t handle training. (He made the poor bastard run the track in full tactical gear on one of the hottest days of the year for nearly an hour straight. No water. No breaks.)

You were the kindest, softest thing he’d ever come in contact with. Something he never thought he’d be able to find in this lifetime after so much hate and anger and pain. He couldn’t risk losing you, which is why he was so strict on his saying no to you joining the task force on the field. The shit they did was dangerous. Immensely so. And this brought up two main points for Simon.

One; he wouldn’t be able to focus on the task at hand knowing you were out. He slept with one eye open when you were nestled close to his chest and snoring softly in the comfort of your own home that he’d all but booby-trapped home alone style. No fucking way he’d allow you out into hostile territory with only a introductory understanding of self-defense. He’d be on pins and needles the entire mission. Probably get the entire squad killed because he’d constantly be looking over his shoulder for you.

Two; it would rip him to shreds if he lost you. You were the only person he truly saw as an equal. The first time the two of you met, he was probably being angsty and rude because he did something to land himself in the medbay, and when he refused to take off his tact vest so you could listen to his heart and lungs, you all but held him at scalpel-point and threatened him within an inch of his life until he finally submitted. After that he was fucking hooked. Obsessed with the way you could get brutes like him to roll over and show you their belly like obedient dogs. And you were kind to him. Immeasurably kind. Dealt with his mood swings and took the time to get to know him. Suffered through the impossibly long process of him letting his guard down.

So if somehow his orders were ignored, it was almost certain that you’d be given strict orders to keep your involvement under wraps. Price would have enough of an idea of the situation to keep the two of you on opposite schedules in the days leading up to deployment. Minimize the possibility of you letting slip that you’d be coming along to preserve not only the integrity of his team but also his quality of life.

It would seem like a regular day to Simon at first. Loading into the helo before dawn, sitting between Johnny and Gaz and trying to tune them out while they snarked at one another across him. And then Price would come on looking guilty as sin. You could practically smell it coming off him. Leaning both his arms on the open door and signaling the driver to start the engine for a quick take off in case Simon decided to abandon ship in his outrage.

He’d give some spiel about teamwork and the importance of focusing on the mission and whatever other bullshit he thought would keep Simon the most level headed. Spewing on and on until Gaz finally cut him off with a pointed yawn. At which point he’d give the group one last look, lingering the longest on the ghost mask, before stepping aside to reveal you.

Dressed up in a uniform that looked about a size too big. Tailored as best it could be in the short notice. Pants chopped and hemmed to make them a manageable length, belt pulled as tight as it could go around your waist. Strapped into a vest that was loaded with medical supplies instead of weapons. Two pistols holstered on your either side.

Simon was beyond livid. Spouting steam like a cartoon bull. Staggering to stand when the chopper took off and stalking over to the cockpit where Price sat and tried to look casual.

Gave him a fucking earful. Screaming over the roar of the engine into the earpiece on a private channel for the entire two hour long flight. Bitching about paperwork and dead weight and how it’s just another person he’ll need to look after and he doesn’t want to. It’s almost impressive. Price doesn’t get a word in sideways. Gets shut down immediately if he even dares to open his mouth.

And he’s a monster when he finds out you’ve been taken POW. Circled by the enemy team like ravenous wolves finding a wounded deer. Soap and Gaz both have to pin him down when Price breaks the news. Seeing fucking red.

A large part of me thinks he internalizes a lot of the torture he went through in the comics. Letting it sit and fester inside him like the worst kind of poison that it took him years to meticulously extract from his very being and carefully contain into a small vial. Laying dormant in the back of his mind for a moment like this. He had no idea what the enemy wanted with you, so he had to assume the worst.

Storms their base by himself. Sniffs you out through a maze of bunkers and underground tunnels and infinitely many heavily secured doors. And the rest of the force just watches his six. Stands back feeling a little nauseous, but letting him blaze down his war path. Any and everyone who gets in his way is guilty unless they can prove their innocence- and they don’t get the chance. Runs through all his ammo gunning down countless grunts and privates stationed outside the base of planted as decoys. Specifically demanding that Price be the one to give up his weapons and ammo so he can continue on. And it’s the one time that the captain allows him to snarl orders like that.

Price knows that Simon is, in his core, a fighting dog. Rescued by the force and given an opportunity to channel his aggression into a more productive outlet. And now it seems all his hard work and training is coming unraveled. Watching Simon once again snap his jaws and bare his teeth, killing without rhyme or reason to get you back, is jarring to say the least. So in some last-ditch effort to preserve some of the trust that they’d built, he surrenders. Shows his belly. Shrugs off his rifle with no objection other than the way his mouth drew into a tight line.

Simon kicks through heavy metal reinforced doors without the need for a battering ram. Pushes himself well past the point of exhaustion. Fueled purely off the instinctual need to recover you. He can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t drink. Can’t stop.

He’d mow through the first few ranks of soldiers until they finally found someone that looked like they’d have at least a sliver of useful information and beat them within an inch of their life until they gave up the information that would eventually lead him to you.

In all honesty, you were probably taken with the intent to lure them in. Not anticipating your absence would have such an impact. Kept you bound in a guarded room. Roughed up a bit just from your struggle, but they hadn’t had time to interrogate you before they got word that 141 was coming in wild and sideways.

This would send Simon even further into madness. Body aching, bleeding from his knuckles. His knees and shoulders screaming their protest when he broke down the door, sending it crashing into the room. And the first thing he sees is you huddled in a corner blindfolded and bound with handcuffs that were cutting into your wrists from your trying to escape. He’d be an entirely different person. (I am giggling and kicking my feet.)

He wouldn’t even bother wasting time with the rifle. He’d handle what few guards were left with his bare hands. Possessed by some kind of superhuman strength. Catching a second wind the moment he laid eyes on you. He’d rush over, the rest of the boys standing guard in the hallway, and break you free from your restraints.

And as much as I would want him to be sweet and coddle you and coo over you, he’d probably be riding such a high that he wouldn’t be able to. He’d immediately start in on you, but with significantly less ferocity than he had with Price.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish? Think they’d turn you into a martyr for bein’ a medic on the field? Real original fuckin’ concept, yeah?”

He’d pull you in close to him, giving you an incredibly detailed once over. Inspecting your face and neck and arms legs for any further damage, and once he determined after three checks that all your wounds were purely superficial, he’d allow his hands to shake just slightly when he smoothed your hair back off your forehead.

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Two-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day, during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: very angst. lots of emotions going on here. reader proves herself to the syltherin boys. honestly just a really playful, fun, light chapter.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the wake of Mattheo's cutting words, three days had passed--three seemingly endless days since he had slammed the door shut on your attempts to help him, his declaration of your connection being nothing more than a futile endeavour, one destined for ruin once the end of the school year rolled around still ringing in your ears like a haunting melody.

The echo of his harsh words reverberated within your mind, an incessant hologram with no escape, seeping into your thoughts during sleepless nights, intruding upon your attempts to focus on anything else. You weren't sure why those words had cut so fucking deep, because in the moment you'd hardly even flinched, but you couldn't ignore the lingering pain they caused.

And during those agonizing days, an uncomfortable tension settled between the two of you, hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. You took the hint, biting back the words that threatened to spill, choosing silence over confrontation. You trailed after him like a shadow in between classes, keenly aware that any attempt at conversation would only ignite another explosive clash, a battle neither of you felt prepared to wage again so soon.

The memory of your last argument lingered, its toxicity staining the air between you, leaving wounds too deep to heal without acknowledgment and remorse; two things neither of you seemed ready to give, quite yet.

But what really made matters worse, was that both of you were unyielding in your convictions--both of you shamelessly stubborn and unapologetic, neither of you feeling as though you were in the wrong. Mattheo barricaded himself behind walls, lashing out as if you were the enemy, despite your unwavering efforts to assist him--which, in turn, resulted in your pushiness. Your refusal to tolerate his aggression without challenge, became your armor, your way of standing your ground.

Maybe you had been too forceful, perhaps too harsh, but in your eyes, it was a response to the aggression he hurled your way. You couldn't simply let his hostility go unchecked; it was against your nature. And so, the standoff continued, a battle of wills and tempers, leaving both of you entrenched in your own convictions, neither of you willing to admit fault.

But today, you decided you weren't going to hide back anymore. You couldn't allow your stubbornness to completely destroy whatever progress you had made with Mattheo thus far. This was about more than just your pitiful feelings, or whatever emotions you had tied into the situation with that complicated boy. This was about being there for him, wether he wants you to be or not. Showing compassion and patience.

And so, summing newfound determination, you shook off the weight of your own melancholy and sought him out after dinner. Today, he and his group of friends had chosen the serene ambiance by the black lake as their study sanctuary, immersing themselves in the preparation for the upcoming charms exam next week.

Over the past three days, you had gradually grown somewhat acquainted with his friends. While you hadn't quite reached the level of camaraderie, there was a palpable shift in their attitudes towards you, a subtle warmth replacing the earlier distance. This change in dynamics became more evident, especially after the unsettling incident involving Berkshire, who still remained confined to the hospital wing, almost a week later.

With determined resolve, you traversed the courtyard and descended the hill toward the lake, drawing in a steadying breath. Each step echoed your silent promise: to honour Mattheo's boundaries, even if it felt like swallowing shards of glass. The crisp air seemed to echo your determination as you neared the group of Slytherin boys, their laughter and banter carried on the breeze.

Among them, Mattheo sat with his usual nonchalant demeanor, his tousled hair framing his intense eyes. A cigarette dangled effortlessly from his fingers, his bag slumped lazily beside him as he rested stoically against a tall tree, lost in conversation with Malfoy. As you veered closer, his gaze met yours briefly, as though he sensed your presence, the darkness within his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. Beside him, Blaise Zabini's face lit up with anticipation, a welcoming smile playing on his lips as he waved you over.

"Well good evening, little raven...always a pleasure," Blaise grinned, his tone teasing as he made room for you to sit down next to him. "Here to keep an eye on Riddle, are you?"

As you settled into the space between Blaise and Mattheo, the group of boys, including Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, and Regulus Black, welcomed you with light smiles and eager nods.

"Perhaps." You teased, sneaking a glance at Mattheo, his gaze planted on the cigarette between his fingers as he fiddled with it. "Or perhaps I'm here to make sure you lot don't burn down the entire forest during your little 'study session'..."

"Rest assured, we're Hogwarts' best-behaved troublemakers," Draco chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief, a cocky smile playing on his lips. "But if you're worried about the forest, maybe you should stick around...your presence might just be the calming influence we need."

Your blush was undeniable as you smirked, meeting Draco's silver eyes across from Mattheo. He leaned back on his palms as his gaze darted over your features, the top buttons of his uniform shirt undone, exuding an air of effortless confidence.

"I know enough about you, Malfoy, to know that's the furthest thing from the truth," you said, your tone teasing. "But either way, I won't be going anywhere anytime soon...unfortunately for him, Riddle here is stuck with me for a few more weeks."

Blaise chuckled, his voice low and smooth. "Ah, the lucky bloke," he replied, his eyes meeting yours with a smouldering intensity. "If I had my way, you'd find yourself stuck with me, instead...and I assure you, it would be a much more enjoyable experience..."

You quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Oh yes," he teased, his voice a playful melody as he shot Mattheo a knowing wink. "I know all too well the misery of enduring Riddle's icy presence all day; he could freeze a bloody dragon with that demeanor...it's almost cute that you think you'll be able to change him."

The timbre of his voice, a melodic dance of amusement, filled the space around you, and Mattheo's demeanor, once steely and composed, seemed to falter slightly under the weight of Blaise's remarks.

His features tightened, as if grappling with invisible chains, and your own smile, once confident, wavered slightly, betraying the impact of Blaise's words. Swallowing hard, you felt the weight of his teasing remarks settle in the pit of your stomach, a heavy reminder of the argument you and Mattheo had just a few days ago. Despite the discomfort, you summoned your courage, your voice soft yet resolute as you spoke.

"I'm not trying to change him, Blaise," your words hung in the air, delicate and firm, like a fragile thread of understanding. "I'm just here to support him...whenever he's ready to let me."

Your words lingered for a moment, underscoring your unwavering dedication to bolster Mattheo without imposing change upon his core. Although you were directing these words at Blaise, you hoped Mattheo had taken heed of them--as this mentorship, you understood now, was not about altering his identity; it was about assisting him in unraveling the internal struggles, urging him to redirect his anger into positive outlets rather than combatting every perceived threat with physical violence.

Blaise's eyes softened, his usual playful demeanor giving way to a more contemplative expression. He leaned in closer, his gaze scanning your features with a profound curiosity, as if searching for hidden depths within your soul. His voice, now tinged with awe and respect, broke the silence.

"Where have you been all this time, hm? He could have used someone like you years ago..." he murmured, his gaze shifting between you and Mattheo, a glint of intrigue shimmering in his dark eyes. "She must truly be something special for you to willingly sacrifice your freedom for her, Riddle."

"A special pain in my ass, yeah," Mattheo said, his voice seemingly devoid of emotion, a subtle hint of sarcasm lacing his words. As he took a draw of his cigarette, a flicker of annoyance flashed in his eyes, the smoke curling around him like a shield. "Nothing about this arrangement was willingly chosen, Zabini..."

Despite the gravity of his words, a rush of warmth surged within you at Mattheo's candid remark. Amusement sparked in your eyes, a glint of playful defiance as you tried to suppress a smirk that threatened to betray your composure.

"Don't let him fool you, he loves it..." your voice, low and teasing, hung in the air, the words daring and provocative as you shamelessly appraised Mattheo's hardened features. "Isn't that right, Riddle? You know you enjoy being kept on your toes for once..."

Mattheo met your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly, but a flicker of amusement danced in their depths. Your boldness didn't go unnoticed, a silent understanding passing between you amidst the banter. With an air of nonchalance, he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he brought his cigarette to his mouth once more.

"Yeah, that's what I enjoy," he drawled, his tone dry and drenched in sarcasm. "Being kept on my toes."

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at Mattheo's sneakily playful words, your attempt to conceal your reaction falling short. Your eyes dropped to your lap, a feeble effort to shield your reddening face from the prying eyes around you. The charged words hung thick in the air, every gaze in the circle keenly aware of the subtle shift in dynamics. Before you could even think to react, Theodore Nott's voice, low and teasing, sliced through the tension, his eyes glinting with a playful gleam that hinted at secrets only he knew.

"Careful, Bella Mia..." he cautioned, his words hanging in the space between you, laden with enigmatic warnings. "You'll only get hurt."

Confusion knit your brows, a perplexed frown marring your features as you tried to decipher his cryptic statement.

"What?" you asked, your voice betraying your bewilderment.

"Your smile..." he replied with a knowing smirk, his tone light but filled with subtle implications, "...you look like you're about to fall in love."

The breath caught in your throat, the world around you momentarily blurring as Theodore's unexpected revelation hit you like a tidal wave. The color drained from your cheeks, leaving your face pale, and your heart thudded against your ribs with a fervent urgency, as if pleading for clarity. Flustered and unprepared, you turned your gaze toward Mattheo, seeking solace in his familiar presence.

Nervousness danced in your eyes, a desperate search for reassurance before you stammered out a denial, the words tumbling from your lips in a rush. "Fall...in love? With Mattheo? Sorry, no...no bloody way."

Your words spilled out in a hurried, almost desperate attempt to dispel the implication, yet there was an undeniable tremor in your voice, a subtle quiver that betrayed the unease settling deep within you. Mattheo's eyes met yours, but they held an emptiness, a haunting void that sent a shiver down your spine, something distant flickering within them, making your stomach twist in uneasy knots.

Around you, the group erupted into sneers and light chuckles, their amusement palpable as they sensed your flustered expression. But your attention remained fixated on Mattheo, his silent gaze carrying the weight of Theodore's words, a looming storm cloud hanging over your heads, heavy with unspoken implications.

In love. The notion seemed absurd, impossible even. No, it couldn't be true. There was no way.

"Nott's right, you'll only get hurt..." Malfoy's sneering voice cut through the air, his words laced with a malicious amusement as he cast a sideways glance at Theodore, who snickered in agreement. "You're far too innocent for Riddle... he'd chew you up and spit you out in a second...any of us would..."

He paused, his cold eyes darting from yours to Mattheo's, and back to yours again, as if sizing up the situation. A sly smirk played on his lips, the cruel glint in his eyes sharpening. "Well, perhaps not Notty boy here; he's a little softer."

A surge of heat coursed through your veins, igniting a fierce determination within you that contrasted sharply with the warm, gentle breeze caressing your skin. Despite the pressure weighing heavily upon you and the palpable weight of their expectations hanging in the air, you refused to succumb to their underestimation. With your pulse quickening, you squared your shoulders, locking eyes with Malfoy's cocky gaze.

"You know...I don't believe I'm as fragile as you all seem to think I am," you retorted, words laced with conviction, challenging their perception of you. "I can handle myself just fine."

"Don't let her appearance fool you," Mattheo's words, unexpectedly slicing through the charged atmosphere, nearly startled your heart out of your chest. His voice, dripping with playful irony, reverberated through your limbs as he spoke without even sparing you a glance, his dark hair framing his face and his whiskey eyes meeting Malfoy's with a challenging glint. "That pretty face hides one hell of a devilish mind."

A collective reaction rippled through the group of boys, their eyebrows shooting up in surprise, their smirks growing wider. The implications of Mattheo's remark hung thick in the air, sparking newfound curiosity and amusement that crackled in the atmosphere like electricity. Malfoy seized the opportunity, his smirk taking on a mischievous edge.

"Now you're calling her pretty, Riddle?" he teased, his tone laced with playful skepticism. "Are you sure there's nothing going on between you two? You have been spending a hell of a lot of time together..."

Simultaneously, you both shot back with lightening speed--your words colliding mid-air, overlapping with the others quick response in a chaotic symphony of denial.

"He wishes," you said, your voice carrying a playful edge--while at the same instant, Mattheo sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm and wit. "In her bloody dreams," he said.

Your synchronized responses elicited another round of chuckles from the boys, a shared moment of camaraderie at the expense of you and Mattheo. The tension between the two of you remained, but the exchange had shifted into a playful rhythm, now, the unspoken dynamics between you two sparking curiosity among the others. Malfoy's chuckles gradually faded, replaced by a challenging glint in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling his lips.

"Alright then...little good girl," he drawled, his tone laden with mischief. "Why don't you prove it?"

Your nerves prickled beneath your skin, a rush of anxiety coursing through your veins as you stammered, "Prove...it? Prove what?"

"Prove that you aren't as innocent and fragile as we think you are," he challenged, his words hanging in the air like a dare. "Prove that you're more than just your books and your pushy, smartass attitude."

Nervously, you glanced around the circle at each of the boys, their eyes fixed on you with wide grins of anticipation. The weight of their expectations pressed upon you, and you felt the intensity of the moment, wether you wished to ignore it or not. Mattheo didn't dare to meet your gaze, but you could sense the slight smirk playing on his lips as he casually fiddled with his cigarette. After a long, silent moment, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

"Fine, Malfoy," you said, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. "Challenge excepted."

With determination, you pushed off the ground, turning your attention away from the circle and toward the tranquil expanse of the black lake. The challenge had been accepted, and you were ready to prove that there was more to you than met the eye, ready to do whatever the hell you needed to earn their respect in your own damned way.

The boys surrounding you stared in wide-eyed shock as you swiftly shrugged off your uniform jacket, the soft fabric falling carelessly to the grassy ground. With a quick motion, you kicked off your shoes, the blades of grass tickling your feet beneath the fading sunlight--it was dark enough now that if you moved away from them, toward the edge of the lake, and stripped off your skirt and shirt, they wouldn't be able to see too much. Nevertheless, they'd still catch glimpses, and that was precisely the point.

Mattheo, still seated, shot you a puzzled look, his eyes narrowing with sheer confusion and concern.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he questioned, his voice slicing through the stunned silence. The weight of his gaze bore into you, searching for an explanation that might justify your unexpected actions. A surge of confidence pushed you forward, your resolve unwavering.

"I'm going to prove that I'm more than what you all think," you replied, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And that sometimes, good girls do bad things, too."

Theodore Nott, always one to read the room, glanced between you and Mattheo, a sly smile playing on his lips. "This should be interesting," he murmured, his tone laced with amusement. "Salazar save us..."

With a newfound sense of liberation, you descended toward the tranquil lake, the gentle lapping of water against the shore a soothing melody in the background. The soft rustle of the wind caressed your ears, heightening the anticipation that hung thick in the air. As you began to undo the buttons on your uniform blouse, each delicate movement resonated with the weight of the challenge, setting your heart racing in your chest.

With every button that slipped out, the tension in the atmosphere grew palpable, the burning gazes of the captivated boys etched into your flesh. The fabric of your blouse glided off your shoulders, landing gracefully on the grass like a discarded shield at your feet. Standing there, clad in nothing but your bra and skirt, you felt a heady mix of exhilaration and vulnerability wash over you.

As the cool evening air enveloped your skin, you sensed a presence behind you. Slowly, you peeked over your shoulder to find Mattheo sprinting toward you, his brows furrowed in disbelief and his eyes widened in pure shock. He came to a halt just a few feet away, his voice laden with a mixture of astonishment and genuine concern.

"Have you lost your bloody mind?" he exclaimed, his words a sharp contrast to the stunned silence that had fallen over the group. "You're going to fucking freeze..."

His gaze flickered over you, a kaleidoscope of emotions playing in his eyes, the dominant one undeniably being shock, tinged with a hint of something else--something unspoken and complex. Under the intensity of his stare, you felt a rush of warmth suffuse your skin, a bold defiance kindling within you as your hands moved to the band of your skirt. With deliberate slowness, you teased the length of its waist, holding his eyes captive in a daring challenge.

"What's the matter, Riddle?" you purred, savoring the power in the moment, knowing he couldn't physically intervene in front of his friends without arousing suspicion. "Are you truly worried about me?" Your voice dropped into a low, nearly inaudible whisper as your smirk deepened, relishing the way his eyes tracked your hands. "Or...perhaps...you're just unable to handle other men looking at your property..."

Mattheo's frustration was palpable, his brows furrowing as he struggled to maintain his composure. Yet, beneath the annoyance, there was a glimmer of amusement, a reluctant acknowledgment of your audacity.

"You're playing with fire, again, aren't you?" he muttered, his tone a blend of exasperation and begrudging amusement. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a hint of admiration for your boldness despite the irritation simmering beneath the surface. "Just be careful you don't get burned."

"Oh, please," you retorted, unable to contain your smirk, the confidence in your voice echoing your daring spirit. "Witches don't burn."

With a swift, decisive motion, you cast your skirt aside, the fabric pooling on the grass as you dashed toward the lake with unbridled determination. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, dulling the edge of the initial shock as you plunged into the cold water. A sharp gasp cut through the night as the icy embrace of the lake stole your breath away, the shock of the temperature quickly giving way to exhilaration. In the background, the boys erupted into cheers and hollers, their admiration for your audacious leap resonating in the crisp evening air like a chorus of approval.

Meanwhile, at the shore, Mattheo stood half-stunned, his eyes widening in surprise before that sly smirk slowly crept back onto his face. He watched you with a mix of amusement and something else, something that look almost like an undeniable respect for your audacity. His fingers absently toyed with his cigarette as he observed your fearless actions, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily shattered by your bold act.

From the water, you observed the boys exchanging glances, their smirks hinting at a shared understanding that transcended words. With an unspoken agreement, they shrugged in unison, a collective "fuck it" echoing through the air. One by one, they rose to their feet, shedding their uniforms with carefree abandon until they stood just as exposed as you were. Their toned bodies glistened under the evening sky, the moonlight filtering through the clouds, casting a silvery glow upon their skin.

With lively laughter echoing through the night air, the boys sprinted toward you, their infectious excitement palpable even from a distance. They effortlessly brushed past Mattheo, who stood frozen in place, his expression a mosaic of shock and amusement, his eyes tracking each of his friends as they leaped into the water alongside you. As the cold water embraced them, the boys couldn't help but groan in unison, their playful complaints filling the air.

"Bloody hell, it's freezing..." Reggie exclaimed, eliciting chuckles from the others. “How the fuck did I think this was a good idea…”

Amidst the banter, they turned their attention to you, their expressions a blend of awe and admiration.

"You've definitely surprised us, little bird," Theodore teased, his tone laced with genuine respect. "Making this look so easy, aren't you?"

Malfoy's voice echoed with a mix of amusement and challenge as he shouted across the water to Mattheo.

"Riddle, don't be a killjoy," he taunted, a playful glint in his eyes. "I know you can't resist a good challenge...you're really going to let little raven here outshine you like this?”

The words hung in the air, a tempting dare that Mattheo couldn't ignore. He stood at the water's edge, his expression a mixture of hesitation and a playful grumbling--clearly debating whether to join the revelry or stay put. You grinned as you watched, his face sporting a resigned yet amused expression, as he finally succumbed, muttering under his breath as he peeled off his uniform with deliberate slowness.

"You guys are bloody mad," he grumbled as he folded his clothes neatly on the shore, his movements deliberate and slightly begrudging. "If we catch hypothermia, Raven, I'm blaming you."

Finally, with a sarcastic salute and a roll of his eyes, he took a deep breath and dove into the water, his entry marked by a splash that mirrored the energy and excitement of the night, everyone erupting into laughter at his little display. Mattheo waded over, his playful irritation evident in the way he shot you a mock glare before unleashing a playful splash, water droplets scattering in all directions.

"Mattheo!" You squealed, wiping the water from your face. "You bloody arse!"

His eyes twinkled with mischief, and he couldn't help but smirk as you retaliated, sending a splash of water right back at him. The tension from earlier had transformed into a playful energy, the group now engaged in a water fight, laughter filling the air as splashes and giggles and squeals intermingled.

Before you knew it, everyone was caught up in the spirited frenzy, water splashing in every direction as the boys chased each other, their playful shouts and laughter blending harmoniously. Mattheo, who had initially been the reluctant participant, seemed to revel in the chaos, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he retaliated with gusto, no longer holding back.

As the water fight intensified, you noticed Mattheo momentarily distracted, his attention diverted by the antics of the other boys. Seizing the opportunity, you discreetly gathered a handful of mud from the lakebed, forming it into a small, compact ball. With careful precision, you approached him from behind, your steps silent in the water, and with a swift motion, you lobbed the mud ball, aiming for Mattheo's shoulder.

The ball hit its mark perfectly, leaving a satisfying splatter of mud on his skin, the boys erupting into laughter, thoroughly entertained by your clever move. However, turning around, Mattheo's eyes widened in exaggerated shock, his voice tinged with playful hurt.

"Did you just fucking ambush me? In front of my own men?" he exclaimed, his tone laced with feigned betrayal as he theatrically wiped the mud off his skin. “You’re real fucking bold, aren’t you, Raven?”

You snickered, grinning at the fact you’d caught him off guard like that. “You know what they say…never drop your guard, Mattheo…”

A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes as he casually glanced over your shoulder, spotting Theodore wading in the water behind you and Malfoy standing just a bit to your side. A subtle shift occurred in Mattheo's demeanor, a silent understanding passing between him, Theodore, and Malfoy. Their eyes exchanged a knowing look, a shared sense of mischief darkening their expressions. Mattheo's voice, once filled with mock hurt, now dripped with wicked amusement as he issued his command.

"Grab her, boys," he ordered, his voice taking on a sinister edge, setting the stage for the impeding revenge. "Time to show the little bird what happens when you mess with a bunch of venomous snakes."

Excitement surged through your veins, a thrilling concoction of adrenaline and laughter, as you attempted to evade their grasp. Your heart raced, the pounding in your chest echoing the playful chaos around you. Despite your best efforts, Theodore's fingers wrapped firmly around your arm, and Malfoy's grip held your other, their strength ensuring your playful struggles were in vain.

“Come on, Mattheo!” You squirmed and giggled, a delightful blend of resistance and amusement, as you found yourself caught in their playful trap. “I’m sorry, please…”

Mattheo, his confidence soaring now that you were being successfully restrained, seized a hefty clump of mud, his fingers sinking into its cool, squishy texture. As he spun back around, his eyes locked onto yours, and with deliberate measured steps, he closed the distance between you, his movements exuding a cocky swagger that only intensified your anxiety.

"Any last words, Raven?" he taunted, his voice dripping with playful malice, the echoes of your impending fate resonating in the air like a looming storm. "If you wish to pathetically apologize for that ignorant display, now is the time to do so."

"Mattheo, please!" Desperation and regret flooded your voice, your pleas tumbling out in a desperate rush, mingling with the tension that hung heavy in the air. "I'm so sorry, please don't--I didn't mean to-"

But Mattheo merely shook his head, a triumphant smirk curving his lips, dismissing your words with a casual flick of his hand.

"Actually, just decided it's too late for ass-kissing now, princess," he sneered, his words cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "Brace yourself."

With a swift motion, he hurled the mud at you, the clump splattering against your chest. Laughter erupted from the boys, their camaraderie deepening in the chaos of the moment. And you, caught in their playful trap, couldn't help but join in the laughter, realizing that the evening had taken an unexpected turn, transforming into a memorable, joyous escapade under the moonlit sky.

As the boys finally released their grip, laughter still lingering in the air, Mattheo met your eyes, his gaze dipping over your mud-splattered form with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

Grumbling, you couldn't resist a playful jab, "You're such an ass."

His chuckle transformed into a self-assured grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Guilty as charged," he admitted, his voice teasing. "But you have to admit, it was worth it for that look on your face."

You let out a reluctant chuckle, realizing the absurdity of the situation. "Fine, you win this round," you conceded, unable to suppress a smile. "But don't get too comfortable; next time I'm bringing everything I got."

"I'm counting on it," Mattheo replied with a grin, a spark of anticipation in his eyes, acknowledging the challenge you had just thrown his way. “Wouldn’t be normal for you if you didn’t.”

After a little bit longer, the group of you finally emerged from the water, the stars twinkling overhead like diamonds scattered across the night sky. Laughter and playful groans of annoyance filled the air as you all struggled to peel your clothes back on, the urgency to get back to the castle evident in the chilly breeze that swept through the night.

With clothes clinging damply to your skin, you all made your way back, sharing stories and laughter along the path. The atmosphere was light, the shared escapade having created a bond among you, making the cold night feel a little warmer. As you approached the castle, a sense of accomplishment and newfound friendship enveloped the group, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill at the unexpected turn the night had taken, leaving you with a memory of an exhilarating adventure under the starlit sky.

—————————-

Chapter 23->

[diamondzart]

I know Toy Story 4 is not really loved by the masses, but I can’t help admitting that I’m that person who loves it just as much as the trilogy. I was really excited about it back in 2019 and even had a little bit of hyperfixation on it. I really adore the concept of lost toys who live on their own. As much as Woody’s choice in the end was unexpected, I think it opened big possibilities for post-canon ideas. Like this one! I decided to design his possible appearance after a couple of years of living outside with Bo. Description under the cut!

I noticed what was missing from those few fanarts on events after the end of Toy Story 4 that I found on the internet. Bo Peep is all so cool and fancy with her hook, raincoat and all sorts of useful thingies that she carries with her, and Woody is just clean and unscathed, as if he just yesterday got out of a dry and warm room. Naaah he wouldn’t stay like this for long 😆

Because what is lost toy’s life? Dirt, unforeseen damage and the need to periodically fight off stray animals. Moreover, we already know that Woody has a tendency to get into troubles. Moreover, he is a rag doll — that is, more than Bo is vulnerable to problems like unstable humidity, getting stuck somewhere with his limbs and getting attacked by cats / dogs / raccoons / whatever else they can encounter. He should become as hardcore as Bo after a couple of years, because otherwise there is no way to survive in this world.

The “raincoat” is of nylon, most likely cut out parts of an umbrella that someone conveniently lost in the park during stormy weather. The trick is that it’s waterproof, since when you are made out of natural fabric, it's important not to get wet as much as possible. Moreover, Woody is quite old, and he should be concerned about the condition of his fabric if he does not want to literally fall apart after a couple of years of such adventures.

The holster is used as a pocket for small things, here it’s used for matches and paper clips, which can be useful in different situations. For matches, a striking surface from a matchbox is attached to the outer side of the right boot. This will allow to quickly light a match by yanking a foot down while holding match to it and thus minimize extra full-body movements, which can be useful in an emergency situation. I think that this can be effective not only for lighting up spaces, but also for scaring away animals, especially small ones like rats.

The hook is a pencil and a fishhook with a broken tip, strapped with duct tape. Basically an analogue of Bo’s hook but made from improvised materials. As we have already seen in her example, it is an excellent utility for crossing various obstacles and, if necessary, for self-defense.

Stitches and scuffs. Both Bo Peep's arms were broken off and are taped back. That means, free living involves the regular risk of losing limbs. Even in an antique store, Woody got his foot stuck somewhere several times, which suggests that either himself or with the help of some stray animal he lost one or another limb and had to sew it back on his own or with Bo’s assistance. He will have to overcome his fear of being broken and accept this as a new part of his existence.

These were general notes on this sketch! Perhaps I will continue to develop this idea in order to find some new interesting solutions.

[nataliasquote]

Midas Touch [pt.2] | n romanoff

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: How is Y/n supposed to process the events of the last 24 hours when life wants to continue as normal? Her head is a total mess but the two people she is closest to are the ones most responsible. In a room full of people, she is the most alone

Warnings: bad coping mechanisms, shitty husband, cheating, mentions of an injury

Pairings: James Barnes x wife!reader, maid!Natasha Romanoff x mistress!reader

wc: 5k

Note: hello :) I am back! This is nowhere near as good as I want it to be but I need to get back into writing so I pushed myself to write this :) I hope you enjoy and thank you for all the love on the first part of ‘Midas Touch’

-⧗-

If Y/n Barnes was a master of one thing, it was pushing her feelings so far down they didn’t dare bob above the surface even just an inch. There was no tell-tale sign of what had happened the previous night…

… except for the dark bruise scattered nicely across her high cheekbone.

James didn’t return home that night so Y/n woke up to an empty bed. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the vast expanse of the egyptian cotton bed sheets encased her body like a glove, and pulling herself out would be an impossible task.

Natasha knocked on the door at 10am, her uniform ironed to a crisp perfection. Flashes of last night blurred through her mind but she cleared her thoughts with a deep breath and pushed the heavy door open after a suitable and swift knock. She headed straight to the long curtains that concealed the balcony doors and tugged them open to allow a small strip of light to dance across the oak floors.

“Good morning, Mrs Barnes,” she spoke gently, watching her mistress smooth her hands over her mussed up hair. The same soft hair she’d felt beneath her own fingertips in an entirely new way. “We have plenty of time, but I would like to remind you that you have your Vanity Fair photoshoot today.”

Y/n groaned and shuffled up to prop her torso up against the thick pillows, the strap of her nightdress falling down her shoulder slightly. “Did we not reschedule that?” She asked, large eyes following Natasha like a hawk.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” Natasha replied with a grimace. Y/n rolled her eyes, again, and blindly gestured for Natasha to bring her robe over. Whilst the spring days were getting warmer, mornings still carried a cooler breeze that felt rather harsh if you were dressed in nothing but a silk slip. “I can still call ahead and see-”

“There’s no need. It’s just a photoshoot, not the end of the world.” Y/n’s bleary eyes were still half closed as Natasha approached, rather hesitantly, with the feathered robe draped over one arm. She reprimanded herself to stay professional but as their eyes met, she couldn’t help but see the helpless expression that she saw in them only hours before, the same one she fell for without considering the repercussions. Natasha was sure Y/n could hear how loudly her heart was beating behind her blouse and she waited for a remark or look that would truly test her to the limit, yet nothing came.

Y/n accepted the robe with a tight lipped smile and moved into the bathroom without another word. Natasha couldn’t help but linger on the blue bruise in contrast with her pale skin, but she knew not to mention it. It was just another elephant in the room, which was turning into quite the zoo now.

Photoshoot preparation was fairly minimal as hair and makeup would be taken care of on set, so Natasha just focussed on preparing breakfast and briefing Y/n on everything she needed to know.

“- and I think that’s everything,” Natasha said, placing her pen down on the table. “Oh, um, well, there is one more thing, but…”

“Spit it out, Natasha, we really don’t have all day.” Y/n peered over the top of her large framed sunglasses with a raised brow, watching as the redhead cowered slightly under her gaze. “What is it?”

Natasha swallowed and started to fiddle with her nails under the table. Why was this so hard? “It’s just your… cheek, ma’am. Would you rather we covered it up here to avoid any suspicions, or we could create a cover story? Perhaps you were hit with a tennis ball-”

Y/n held up her index finger, effectively cutting Natasha off mid ramble. The stress was evident in her tone and it was slightly irritating to the young woman who had managed to distance herself from everything rather quickly. Sure, the ache on one side of her face was still there and served as a harsh reminder of what her life was, but she had a part to play, and nothing, not even Natasha, would get in the way of that.

“I don’t care,” Y/n stated bluntly, pushing her sunglasses up into her freshly washed hair. “You can do both, cover it up and make up a story.” Her tone was blasé and Natasha frowned, unsure of how to handle her next words. “It’s not a big deal, so please don’t turn it into one. And James cannot know that you know, okay, or he will fire you if he finds out.”

Her words were like a kick to the stomach and Natasha nodded swiftly before busying herself with collecting the breakfast tray. Despite being the one to end their kiss last night and cement to Y/n that it was wrong, there was still a part of her that clung on to their relationship being forever changed for the better and she yearned for that feeling they’d shared only hours previous. But Y/n cooler demeanour squashed all hope and she even wondered if it all had been a dream. If it wasn’t for the bruise, maybe she would have been convinced.

Natasha didn’t utter another word about it, instead immersing herself into preparations. Y/n was typing away on her phone on the drive over, so Natasha stole thirty minutes to continue with her book. But the words on the pages were simply just that, she couldn’t focus on more than a paragraph. She was hyper aware of the heeled foot bobbing out the corner of her eye where Y/n had one leg crossed over the other as she scrolled through her phone, and how if they were only a few inches closer it would be brushing against her calf. But Natasha shook her thoughts away as they pulled up to the studio and fetched the bags as Y/n’s publicist greeted them at the door.

Natasha was directed to the dressing room, the kind of place she was familiar with, and she laid out her things before hovering by the door. Her role during photoshoots was minimal, and quite frankly she didn’t need to be there, but Y/n always requested her presence as a sense of comfort and familiarity. Things got overwhelming quickly on set.

“Oh thank god, I thought you’d got lost,” Y/n breathed as she spotted Natasha by the soft couch, hands clasped over her lap. “I have a favour to ask.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Y/n peeked down the hallway before quickly closing the door, allowing them a moment of privacy before the chaos ensued. “Will you stay with me all day?” Her voice was quiet, like she was afraid to admit it. Natasha’s eyes softened and she nodded. “It’s just- I’ve never felt as safe with someone as I do with you, and after yesterday I-”

“It’s okay, I’ll be right here, and I’ll hover on set so I’m never far away. And I’ve already sent the message around so no one will ask about your cheek.” Y/n smiled gratefully, counting her blessings for how lucky she was to have Natasha in her life. She went above and beyond her duties and had the kindest heart, one that captured Y/n more than she cared to admit.

Their sweet moment was cut short as a knock on the door sounded, promptly followed by the entry of the glam team. Y/n was swooped away into hair and makeup, a simple yet versatile look that could be adapted to fit each outfit. Natasha watched like a hawk, scanning Y/n’s body language for any signs of discomfort. But her mistress was also a professional when it came to performing in public, so no outsider would ever know what was bubbling beneath the surface. She chatted and laughed with her stylists just like any other day, complimenting the soft waves in her hair and the shade of blush used on her cheeks.

The shoot itself harnessed the light and airy feel of summer, utilising bright colours and soft prints that complimented Y/n’s complexion perfectly. She’d worked with the photographer a few times before, with James too, so they worked naturally together, her features enhanced by his skill and her ease in which she posed.

The camera adored her. Which wasn’t surprising, Y/n really was gorgeous. Each outfit fitted her body like a glove and she gazed down the lens with such a sultry look that Natasha shifted in her seat a few times. She watched, mesmerised - this part of her job never got old.

Natasha had come crashing down overnight, the one small taste of her mistress that she’d managed to get had got her addicted and the way the redhead looked at her was far from professional, no matter how hard she tried.

And life wasn’t helping her case either. Not when Y/n came strutting out in her final outfit, a light blue silk dress with a dangerously low back and swooping neckline. She locked eyes with Natasha and winked as the make up artist added a final coat of lipstick before stepping back to allow the set to be empty. Y/n turned at an angle to the camera and looked back over her shoulder, eyes gazing off away from the lens… and straight to Natasha. Her soft eyeliner brought out the colours in her eyes in the most gorgeous way and they seemed to sparkle in the studio lights as she turned and posed, all whilst looking directly at her maid.

Anyone looking at the meek redhead in the corner would just see a maid on duty. No one would be able to see the way her eyes followed where Y/n’s hands went, knowing she’d held them in hers only hours before. Nor would they see how she stared at her slightly parted lips whilst remembering the way they felt on her own. How gentle and delicate they felt, a wild contrast to her captivating and consuming presence that made everyone on set stop and stare. Y/n had finally trusted someone to see her vulnerable and Natasha treasured it like a precious stone, keeping it near and dear to her heart.

The day wrapped after a few hours and Y/n changed straight into a bikini before heading down to the pool, her hair loose and still curled from the shoot. The water was always her preferred way of unwinding and Natasha gave her some space to be alone for a while, something that rarely happened in her hectic life.

The house was peaceful as the afternoon sun warmed the patio where Y/n resided, her legs dangling into the crystal pool water below. Her large sunglasses stopped the glare from blinding her and she moved her feet slowly, following the ripples that she created. There was nothing to be heard but the birds in the trees and the occasional clink of crockery as the chefs prepared a light dinner. Natasha stayed back, her chair placed in the shade to save her delicately pale skin from the harsh sun rays. She didn’t tan like Y/n did, and looking like a lobster was not on her to do list for the week.

But her seat still gave her an amazing view and as Y/n stood up to refill her glass, Natasha took the time to admire her toned body and how it glistened from the tanning oil. Every piece of exposed skin looked smooth and she knew it would feel just as soft under her fingertips.

Her attentive ears picked up the sound of heavy footsteps across the marble floors and Natasha sat up a little straighter as James appeared in the doorway. He was focused on the woman by the pool, her damp hair sticking to her exposed back as it dried in the heat. With four strides he was at the pool edge, saying something that made Y/n climb to her feet.

Natasha was used to their PDA, but this one felt wrong to watch. The second their lips touched, she brought her book closer, trying to distract herself. But the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t keep looking away. She saw how James’ hand instantly found the curve of Y/n’s lower back and pressed her body into him as he held the back of her head to kiss her. Natasha saw Y/n almost melted into his touch and she cursed how natural they looked. Was everything okay with them? Had Y/n really pushed her pain that far down that she could forgive her husband in two seconds? Or was this all just an act that the couple had perfected over time because this had been happening a lot longer than Natasha knew. She dreaded to consider the latter but the sinking feeling in her stomach wouldn’t let it go.

At the poolside, Y/n finally pulled away from James, her lips slightly numb. “Where were you?” she muttered quietly, not fully looking him in the eye as he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Work, doll, you know how hectic it gets sometimes.” There was something off about him, but Y/n was too exhausted to pry so she let her eyes fall to the exposed chain resting on his chest thanks to the buttons undone on his shirt. “Have you been good today?”

“Had a photoshoot,” Y/n replied, and James tensed, gripping her waist firmer as he waited for her next words. “The one for Vanity Fair’s cover next month.”

James grunted in response and dragged his hand up his wife’s body, raking in her figure in her small black bikini. Natasha watched over the top of her book, perplexed. No one could see how uncomfortable Y/n was as James’ hand gripped the back of her neck and guided her inside, her facade was good, but she prayed it would be obvious as they passed the redhead who could only pretend she didn’t see them. Y/n desperately tried to make eye contact with her maid but Natasha ignored her, sending a shudder down her spine as James’ grip hardened.

“Why are you so quiet today? Cat got your tongue?” James asked once the bedroom door was closed and the couple were finally alone. Y/n lingered by the bed as he discarded his button down shirt in exchange for a lighter and more simple one. “I asked you a question, Y/n.”

“I’m just tired from the shoot,” she replied, eyes flitting over his muscular back. “And the constant dodging of questions.” Y/n saw the way he froze, still with his back turned, and the confidence that had blossomed in her chest for a moment was snuffed out.

“Excuse me?”

Her chest heaved as her breathing sped up but she stood her ground, using the mattress behind her knees for support. “It’s hard to lie through my teeth when people are asking about the bruise on my face and I can’t tell them it was my husband. Photoshop is really going to save you-”

“What did you tell them?” James demanded as he stormed over, towering over her as he gripped her upper arm. “Did you dare?”

“I told them it was a tennis ball.” Relief flooded James’ face and he let her go, creating space between them. Y/n saw the way he looked at her cheek that was still covered with makeup. “Didn’t want to risk getting another one if you found out I’d told the truth.” The words were out before she could stop them and Y/n braced herself for the impact, expecting the inevitable.

But it didn’t come.

A hand touched her cheek, making her flinch, before it slid down to her waist and James knelt before her, his head resting on her bare stomach. His sudden change was unnerving and Y/n didn’t know what to do. He was leaning against her like a child, apologising and mumbling like a madman, and part of her wanted to push him away, but it would be a step too far. She just stood and listened to his apologies, once again blaming his work for making him aggressive and swearing that he’d never lay a hand on her again.

Part of her believed him, the naive part, but as she screwed her eyes shut, all she saw was Natasha. How gentle her touch was, something James could never do. He was always rough, no matter what, his hands calloused from years of fighting. The way Natasha’s palm felt against her burning cheeks would never be matched by anyone else and no matter how hard Y/n tried to imagine that the hands that were running across her back now belonged to her maid, she knew what Natasha’s touch was like and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

The moment the kisses started across her lower stomach, Y/n pushed James’ head away and sat down on the soft duvet, taking his hand in hers.

“It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Lies.

But for the sake of her life and safety, it was all she could say.

James was no knight in shining armour, despite his skillset. No, her true saviour knocked on the door in that moment, knocking the air out of her lungs as she breathed a sigh of relief. Natasha knew not to enter unless ordered, so Y/n scurried to the door and visibly softened at the sight of the redhead who’s cheeks were slightly flushed.

Right, Y/n was still in her bikini.

“I’m just here to say that dinner is ready and on the patio when you both are available,” she announced, smiling politely at James who had joined his wife at the door, his hand sliding around her waist possessively. “Chef prepared those oysters you requested, Mr Barnes.”

“Thank you, Natasha, Y/n and I will be right there.” The redhead didn’t linger, instead disappearing back down the stairs in a hurry.

“I’m just going to get changed, I’ll meet you down there,” Y/n said, wriggling out of his hold as soon as she could. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Don’t be too long, doll. I’ve missed you.”

He certainly had an odd way of showing that, considering he had disappeared for over twelve hours with not a word. But, once again, Y/n pushed that out of her mind and slipped on a simple white cover-up that was modest enough for dinner and padded downstairs to the patio where James had already tucked into his food. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a kiss, more of a display to the staff around them than anything else.

Seafood was never Y/n’s preference, so once she was sat across the table, her fork picked at parts of the salad, occasionally stomaching an oyster that James pushed her way. He glanced at her plate with a frown

“Are you on a new diet?”

Y/n almost dropped her fork and quickly fumbled to catch it before it clattered to the floor. “No,” she replied, mortified. “Should I be?”

James just shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he took a swig of his drink. His tanned chest was exposed and he revelled in the feeling of the sun on his skin, something he missed working in an office all day.

“That’s not up to me. I just want you to look good.” His vague response left a sour taste in Y/n mouth and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, subtly adjusting the way the cover-up sat around her stomach.

“Then why did you ask?” Her mind cast back to the earlier photoshoot and the tight fitting clothes she’d squeezed into per the stylist’s request. Did they all think she needed to be on a diet too?

“You’re so sensitive,” James replied, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “It was just a question, just eat your food, doll. Or don’t, I don’t care.” Y/n looked down at her dish and pushed a cherry tomato around before eventually dropping her fork to the side with a clink. Despite how fresh her salad tasted, James’ words sank to her stomach like a stone and she felt disgusted at the thought. “What are you doing on Friday night?”

“I don’t think I’ve got anything planned, but I’ll need to check with Natasha-”

“You’re coming to the charity ball with me.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand, and Y/n just nodded. “Rogers said it’s non-negotiable and you know how much I love having you on my arm. Rumlow will be there too, which is a bonus.” Y/n’s stomach lurched at the thought of seeing that man again. He was far too handsy for her liking and had zero respect for women, especially her. “It’ll give me another chance to show you off and put that asshole in his place.”

“James, you know I don’t feel comfortable around him-”

“I know, doll. But you’ve got me to protect you,” he countered, subtly flexing his arm that was placed behind his head.

But his words didn’t fill her with much hope. She hated feeling so helpless, but being surrounded by the men that James was associated with through work was like being surrounded by bears in a forest. How could she rely on her husband to keep her safe when he was now part of the reason why her hands shook? His slap had knocked her confidence away just like it did her breath, and the determination and independence she’d felt a few days ago was now nowhere to be seen. And she hated it.

“May I be excused?” Y/n asked, already feeling restless in her seat. James nodded and muttered something about a call, but she was already out of earshot by the time he’d finished.

Her legs didn't carry her up to her room like she expected. Instead, she found herself down the least familiar hallway, stopping outside a door she’d only knocked on once before.

A faint rustling was heard before the door flew open and Natasha’s face morphed from surprise to confusion at the sight of her mistress in the staff quarters.

“Can I come in? Please?” Neither Y/n or James ever ventured into the staff quarters, nevermind the rooms, but Natasha stepped aside and allowed her to enter, excusing how bare her room was.

“Is everything okay? You could have called for me.”

Y/n shook her head as she admired the neatness of Natasha’s living quarters. Her surfaces were dust free and bed made to perfection. “I don't know, I just wanted to get away from everything. And you’re the only person I could think of.”

Natasha frowned, her brows creasing as she watched her mistress peering out of the window at the gardens below. Y/n sensed her close presence and turned to face her, scanning her face and more importantly her eyes. A gentle hand raised to smooth the lines between the redhead’s brows upon instinct before Natasha stepped away, effectively placing a blockage between them.

“We should go somewhere else, Y/n, you shouldn’t be here.” It all felt wrong yet right and Natasha was so conscious of someone walking in on them. “Come, we can sit on the balcony.”

Y/n shook her head desperately. “No, James is out there on a call and I can’t face him right now. I don’t want to feel like I’m being watched anymore but there’s nowhere else I can go except to you and I shouldn’t, but you don’t understand, I can’t-”

“Y/n, breathe, it’s okay, I won’t make you go anywhere. What happened?”

“It’s pathetic,” she replied, adjusting the neckline of her coverup. “I’m just being ridiculous and sensitive, just like he said.”

“James?” Natasha probed, wishing she had been out on the patio to hear the conversation that had clearly shaken her mistress. “What did he say?”

“He just said something about a diet and I overreacted and asked if I should be on one and he got mad and I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.”

“He said you should be on a diet?” Natasha repeated in disbelief. That was another score for the James Barnes hate chart, and if he didn’t pay her wages she’d have acted on her impulses a long time ago. They never quite saw eye to eye.

Y/n winced, feeling guilty for making the situation seem worse. A messy mind led to messy conversations and she just wanted to stop. “No, he-”

“So he said he doesn’t want you on one?”

“Well, not exactly, but that's all I can think about now. He wants me to look good, I’m his wife for god’s sake, I have to.” Her voice cracked and Y/n turned away from Natasha, moving back towards the door as doubt began to set in. “But what if I’m not enough, or perfect enough for him anymore? ”

Natasha had to fight to stop herself from speaking the words on her mind and she bit her lip. “No, Y/n, you are beautiful just the way you are. You don’t need a diet or anything like that,” she spoke softly. The other woman didn’t look convinced, so Natasha carefully stood up and opened her closet door to reveal a small mirror about ¾ of a full length. “Here, let me show you something.”

“Natasha, I can’t-”

“Y/n, please…” she trailed off, holding out her hand patiently. She wasn’t about to force her to do anything, Natasha could see the cogs whirring in her busy mind and knew what she was fighting. Half of her wanted to go and find James and kick him in the balls, just like she wanted to last night, but she was here for Y/n. Not him.

“I shouldn’t even be here, this was stupid-”

“No,” Natasha interrupted, stopping Y/n in her tracks. “What’s stupid is James making you feel as worthless as you do. Why do you listen to him?” Y/n avoided her gaze, choosing instead to twist her wedding ring around her finger, it suddenly feeling heavier than usual. “Do you not see how beautiful you are? How you give your heart out to anyone who needs it without caring what state it is in when you get it back? Do you not see that you are so much more than just his wife?” Natasha’s words were true, but they fell upon deaf ears and Y/n shook her head, reaching for the doorknob whilst trying to hide her trembling hands.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled, not giving Natasha a chance to stop her before slipping back out into the hallway where she came from.

Natasha watched the door close dejectedly, her heart sinking. “Do you not see how much I love you?”

Y/n sped down the hallway with glassy eyes, her head more clouded than ever. She had so many questions, but who was she to ask when the two closest to her were the ones completely messing with her head, tugging it in opposite directions until the rope threatened to snap. She barely registered travelling back upstairs until she reached the bedroom door and threw it open without a care. James’ head turned at the noise and he spoke down the phone before hanging up and followed Y/n into her dressing room.

Y/n was completely lost with her thoughts when she felt his hands on her and barely reacted to his touch. His lips trailed up her neck to her ear and she tilted her head back purely on instinct. She felt too numb for this, but let him continue because she was his wife and that was her job. Nothing sparked her brain when he pulled her coverup off or when he picked her up and placed her on the dresser in the middle of the room. It was all muscle memory and he was too focused to notice her lack of enthusiasm.

How could so much change in twenty four hours? She lived an amazing life, incredibly privileged, so why wasn’t she happy? Couples fight all the time, her husband was an aggressive man, but a single slap didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. She’d get over it and maybe James would go back to being the loving husband he was before.

But even now, as his calloused hands pulled off her bikini top and pressed his lips to her soft skin, she doubted that her life would ever go back to the way it was. Not now that she had Natasha.

Yet that was nothing more than a fruitless desire. Because, despite her comebacks and displays of confidence towards her husband, he was more powerful than she would ever be and had the ability to ruin her life if she went against his wishes.

Was it worth it? Y/n really wasn’t sure. She would never be certain.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jamil Viper - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Main Street]

Jamil: Hmm, the width of this street is much narrower than I thought… If it were to turn the corner here…

Ortho: Jamil Viper-san! What are you doing here of all places? The afternoon classes will begin soon.

Jamil: Ortho… Maybe you could hear me out.

Ortho: Th-That's a pretty serious look you got going on… Sure. If you're alright with it, I can listen to what you have to say…

Jamil: So, tomorrow is my birthday…

Ortho: Huh, your birthday!? Happy Birthday!

Jamil: Thanks. I'm happy to celebrate it, but because of it, I'm in a bit of a conundrum.

Jamil: Well... It seems that Kalim has been plotting something for my birthday.

Ortho: Eh, plotting something? Is he planning something ominous…!?

Jamil: So, after coaxing hints out of him, and gathering more info from other folks around me, I finally was able to piece together his plan.

Jamil: Apparently, he's been planning alongside my dormmates on throwing a birthday parade in my honor down main street.

Ortho: Oh, nice, that sounds fun. Isn't it a good thing that he wants to throw a parade?

Jamil: Seriously… Do you even get how expensive parades can be, not to mention the difficulties of pulling one of successfully?

Jamil: I was so worried about it, I stole a glance at their plans, and just as I expected, it's not well thought out at all.

Jamil: If, somehow, it was to be a disaster and he says, "let's try again tomorrow!" it could further inflate the costs and labor.

Jamil: Plus, I'm not supposed to know about it, so I can't stop it. If I try to run interference, they might try something else which would also be just as bad…!

Jamil: That's why I thought about what could be done to successfully pull this off quick and painlessly, while minimizing any damage Kalim and the others could do...

Jamil: Which is why I am now secretly examining the proposed parade route prior to the event.

Ortho: Eh. So, you're telling me that you're basically doing the prep work for your own parade…?

Jamil: Don't remind me… I'm feeling pretty embarrassed by it already…

Ortho: B-But hey, you're still excited for your birthday, right? Especially since it's your special day!

Jamil: ….Yeah, I guess it's okay. It's a day where I don't have to stress about so many things.

Ortho: Oh, hey, so, what about if you try to surprise everyone else during the parade instead?

Ortho: Maybe you could shoot off fireworks at the front of the parade, or try summoning something via magic!

Jamil: I see… I mean, it is pretty irritating to always be on the receiving end of surprises. Might not be bad to see their shocked faces.

Jamil: Thanks, Ortho. I'll think about it.

[Scarabia Dorm – Lounge]

Jamil: Alright, now. I think I'll put together my lunch for tomorrow before taking a shower… Hm? Oh, what are you guys still here for?

[Scarabia mob students stand there awkwardly]

Jamil: Eh, nothing? Don't worry about it? What's that plate you just tried to hi… No, nevermind.

Jamil: I know nothing. That's right, I know nothing… So, please… Please let things go as planned…!

Jamil: …Whew. Tomorrow's a busy day, so I guess I'll finish up what needs to be done, too.

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

Jamil: Ah, whew. Today was another full day…

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

[Jamil's roommate greets him]

Jamil: I'm back. …Yeah, that's right. There were so many people in the washroom that it took forever to take a shower.

Jamil: You were done pretty quickly, though… Oh, are you actually studying for once?

Jamil: What, because you're going to be busy tomorrow? Oh, so you're saying you're not studying because you want to… Nah, don't mind me, doesn't matter the reason, better you go ahead and do it.

[paper slips to the ground]

Jamil: Hey, you dropped something… Oh, right, the Headmaster did send out a notice earlier.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Jamil: Quality of life improvements, huh. Then they should start with making the shower rooms bigge… Achoo!

Jamil: That's no good. I should dry my hair quickly before I catch a cold.

Jamil: Oh, I almost forgot, I received some hair milk from Najma for my birthday. I should apply some before drying.

Jamil: Urgh, the scent's pretty strong. What is this scent…? Lotus flowers? Oh, she should know this is way too fragrant for me!

Jamil: Is she just trying to mess with me even for my birthday? No, wait, she's more the type to have not put that much thought into it.

Jamil: I'll make sure to at least thank her… Before going back to my usual oils from tomorrow... Hey, I'm going to use the dryer.

Jamil: I can't really take my time drying my hair in the shared washroom. Especially since I require a lot more time…

[starts blow-drying hair]

Jamil: …Improvements, huh. Now that I think about it, I guess it could be useful to have a large standing mirror in the room.

Jamil: Whenever I'm setting my hair in the morning, it's pretty inconvenient that I can't see the back of my head. What I'd really like is a three-sided mirror.

Jamil: If I had known there wouldn't be one in these rooms, I probably would have brought one. Or maybe, I should write and request one.

Jamil: …Nah, it'll just get in my roommate's way. And I wouldn't want it to be used without permission… I dislike having to share my personal items.

Jamil: If I were to try and request some kind of new implement for the room, I think it'd have to be…

Jamil: A COMMERCIAL-GRADE REFRIGERATOR!!!

Jamil: That's exactly what I need! Ah, yes… It would be insanely convenient to have a refrigerator in my room!

Jamil: Sure, there is a fridge in the dorm kitchens, but it is a little too far from my room. Like, the last time I made ice cream…

Jamil: I'd have to wake up in the middle of the night and make countless trips back and forth to the kitchen to stir it. That was frustrating, especially since I was sleepy, and it's a good distance away.

Jamil: It'd be better if I had one in my room. And then I might as well also get a wide sink, stove and oven too…

Jamil: …Wait, that's basically a whole kitchen, huh? I guess it's not really something you'd put in a bedroom.

[finishes blow-drying hair]

Jamil: Alright, it's mostly dry now. I'll just apply some oil, and… done.

Jamil: Hey. Sorry for all the noise again today… WAIT, HUH, HE'S ALREADY ASLEEP EVEN THROUGH THE LOUD HAIR DRYER NOISE!?

Jamil: Geez, he doesn't have a care in the world, huh. I almost feel kind of jealous.

Jamil: Alright, then. Time to look over my notes and prepare for tomorrow, then go to sleep.

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

[alarm rings]

Jamil: Hrn… It's morning already… Yaaawn.

Jamil: I'm still sleepy… But there shouldn't be a crowd in the bathroom this early… I should go wash my face while it's empty…

Jamil: Whew. I feel more refreshed now that I've washed my face… I really do like it in the mornings, since no one else is around.

Jamil: Looks like my roommate is still sleeping, so I'll just go ahead and quickly finish up my appearance for today.

Jamil: I guess I'll start with my makeup. Hm… Yeah, I think I'll just go with my usual palette.

Jamil: First, my sunscreen and colored lip balm. And I'll need eyeliner… Ah, looks like it's almost gone.

Jamil: I still have some spares, but I'll have to make sure to buy some extra.

Jamil: It was a little frustrating when the last eyeliner I would always use took off on Magicam and became hard to find.

Jamil: It's annoying when you can't even keep using the cosmetics you like because they go out of stock.

Jamil: I'd rather they keep a consistent stock of their standard products, instead of trying to come out with new colors each season.

Jamil: I'll have to look for some other brands next time, something that's water proof, and won't come off even if I sweat from running or cooking.

Jamil: …Alright, I'm done. Next, I just need to set my hair.

Jamil: First, I'll take my hair oil and rub it into the ends of my hair to moisturize it… Good. Just from first glance, it doesn't look like there's any damaged strands.

Jamil: It's nice that ever since I've grown out my hair, I don't wake up to bed head, but… I never expected to have to spend this much time taking care of it.

Jamil: Letting it grow out may be easy to do, but it wouldn't do to let it go wild. Grooming it well should be the bare minimum of etiquette.

Jamil: Especially since I don't want to be seen as unsightly…. I'll just finish the braids with magic… And, done.

Jamil: …I've set it as perfectly as I normally do, but since today's my birthday, maybe I should try to spruce myself up just a little more than usual?

Jamil: Today should be a pretty long day, so I think I'll use a stronger eyeliner… Might not be bad to add a splash of color, too.

Jamil: Not only do I have the dorm party, but my clubmates have also reached out, and I promised to get together with my classmates, as well.

Jamil: …Ah, well. Looks like today is going to be one busy day. Heheh.

[Main Street]

[birthday celebration cheers]

Ortho: Ah, I spy Jamil Viper-san! Looks like he's having fun celebrating with everyone.

Ortho: Heheh… He was griping a lot yesterday, but he definitely seems like he's enjoying himself. He looks so happy!

Ortho: Hey, Jamil Viper-san! I'm here to celebrate, too. Happy Birthday!

Jamil: Hey, Ortho! You came all this way to join the celebration, too? Thanks, everyone.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[actual-lea]

So who wants to hear about the stupid stupid way I'm playing Baldur's Gate 3?

I made it to Act 3 on my first (original character) playthrough like a week before Patch 5 came out, and after finding it absolutely unplayable (on the PS5) decided it was time to go ahead and start an origin character run for the funsies while waiting on the new patch to fix the Lag Hell. Naturally, I picked Gale. Since this was mostly just for fun/to hold me over until I could continue my other file, I decided it would be a nice time to see what happens if you just refuse to consume any magic items. Of course, if you are not playing as Gale and ignore his Orb Problem, he will apparently eventually leave your party, but what if you ARE Gale? I couldn't find an answer with a minimal amount of Googling SO

There are three stages to his Arcane Hunger, each of which give you increasingly debilitating debuffs: Arcane Hunger, Greater Arcane Hunger, and Severe Arcane Hunger. It seems the triggers for progressing to the next stage are the same as the triggers where he would start needing an item in my other file (i.e. that bridge next to the Blighted Village, entering the temple at the Goblin Camp, the Hag's Lair, etc.) which obviously makes sense. I figure with the amount of contingencies in this game for incredibly specific situations, surely there is some kind of unique dialog or fun cutscene that will play if I ignore the Arcane Hunger long enough and just play through the debuffs.

I played Act 1 completely normally, doing a lil quicksave every time I was about to Long Rest just in case the game gave me a cutscene of the big explosion upon waking up (I thought maybe it would be time-based, similar to the game over you get if Gale dies and you leave him for 3 days (? I think?) which does not seem to be the case). I made it through basically everything without anything odd happening besides the aforementioned debuffs. The Severe Arcane Hunger is where things get really sloggy, because Gale can only move at half speed.

I have been slowly trudging EVERYWHERE since the Goblin Camp.

I eventually started going out of my way to make sure I hit all the Arcane Hunger triggers I know about, to see what would happen, and the answer is nothing, aside from Gale occasionally reminding me that he's wracked with terrible pain.

So, surely, the game will certainly not let me into the Mountain Pass without SOMETHING happening, right?

WELL

That's surprising, but whatever, at least now I have the chance to see what happens if you go meet Elminster without having consumed any magic items,

Except

He wasn't there.

I went to the area in the Mountain Pass where the cutscene is supposed to start, and it just. Didn't happen. Nothing happened. I could walk right up to the entrance to the next area.

But SURELY, the game won't let me into the gotdamn Shadow-Cursed Lands without saying SOMETHING about the fact that the orb has been starving for several weeks at this point, right? The game isn't going to let me into Act Freaking 2 without at the very least giving me a game over to tell me I'm not allowed to do this and make me reload and actually feed this poor starving wizard, right?

RIGHT?

WELL

WELL

Here we are. I'm at the Last Light Inn, I'm at the Taco Bell, I'm at the combination Last Light Inn Taco Bell with a bag full of delicious Cheesy Gordita Magic Boots that I refuse to eat.

SO LIKE. How far does this go??? Am I gonna be able to infiltrate Moonrise Towers without ever speaking to Elminster? Am I gonna trudge all the way to Ketheric at half freaking speed and fight him with Disadvantage on everything?? Am I gonna make it all the way to goddang Baldur's Gate with a Netherese orb that is long overdue to explode???

Like I said, I did not find an answer on what happens if you do this on a Gale Origin playthrough, and at this point, I don't even want to, I just want to see how far I can take this.

I already know I'll have to do another normal Gale playthrough where I actually FEED HIM after this, because I'm sure I've missed out on a ton of dialogue and whatnot, especially from Tara who only ever has this to say when I speak with her in camp:

I am genuinely beginning to wonder if there is actually nothing in place to stop me from doing this. I am wondering what the dialogue options will look like when I get to the "Heart of the Absolute" where Gale would ordinarily want to blow himself up, if Elminster had ever shown up to tell him to do so. Maybe the devs just didn't bother, and figured that no one would be stupid and stubborn enough to play through the whole dang thing while so severely debuffed.

Joke's on them, Disadvantage means NOTHING to Magic Missile Machine Gale Dekarios.

[theshippirate22]

listen st4 ROBBED us of so so so much, but really I think the the biggest travesty is the fact that we never got platonic Harringham. Like, of course, platonic Stobin is so perfect in every way- i worship it really- and i don’t mean to minimize that AT ALL but like.

Steve and Chrissy absolutely LOSING THEIR SHIT at a football game.

Steve and Chrissy having a crush on the same baseball player and arguing over which pants his ass looks better in.

Steve and Chrissy giving each other the same ??? look when Robin or Eddie say something nerdy.

Steve and Chrissy going to the gym together and losing track of whose basketball shorts are whose.

Steve and Chrissy bonding over the fact that their mothers hate them.

Steve teaching Chrissy to cook and slowly helping her get over her eating disorder.

Steve and Chrissy sharing tips for sore muscles and collapsing on the couch together with bags of frozen peas and corn after going a little too hard.

Steve and Chrissy going for runs at dawn together and getting back long before Robin or Eddie would ever dream of being awake.

Steve and Chrissy throwing the biggest super bowl party ever and screaming and grabbing each other’s arms every time there’s a touchdown.

Steve, who’s been having migraines since his first concussion, helping Chrissy out, who’s started getting headaches since Vecna fucked with her head.

Chrissy offering to drive Lucas to and from basketball because she’s going to the school for cheer anyway, and it’s one less thing he has to worry about.

Steve and Chrissy sitting in on a DnD game, getting bored a few hours in and going out to the driveway to play Horse (Chrissy has never won- she wants the challenge so she never lets Steve go easy on her and he respects her enough not to)

Steve and Chrissy side-eyeing each other when someone has the AUDACITY to say they like the Colts, knowing full well that they’re going to have to dish on the person the second they get in the car (They know the Colts are Indiana’s team. The Steelers are just… better.)

Steve protecting Chrissy from creepy ex-boyfriends who just want to take advantage of her, and Chrissy protecting Steve from creepy ex-girlfriends who just want to take advantage of him.

Chrissy convincing Steve to get back into swim, and him agreeing as long as she gets back into dance.

Chrissy wearing her whole cheer uniform to his meets and sitting on the edge of the bleachers every time he’s in the pool, palms sweating as he flies through the water- Robin and Eddie went to go get McDonald’s an hour ago- eyes darting from his silhouette to the clock and back again, muttering under her breathe, “Come on, Steve, come on!”

Chrissy screaming when he wins, running to the edge of the pool to grab him, even though he’s soaking wet and she spent so long on her hair and “Holy shit, you did amazing!”

Steve making his own sort of cheer uniform to wear to her competitions, always driving her to them so he can hype her up in the car on the way. Calling “You’re a god, you can crush ‘em with your thighs!” as they split up so she can go to the dressing rooms backstage.

Steve leaping to his feet in the audience to clap the second she’s finished, whether it’s a team dance or a solo, or a duo-She’s the only one worth watching- whistling and cheering for her so loud, it would be a phenomenon if she didn’t hear him.

idk

just let Steve have another bisexual jock bestie who won’t make fun of his interests. Who knows how much he wants this, who knows how hard it is.

idk.

[mbbmz]

Hello love! I just looove those alphabet headcanons you wrote! Like I truly do! And idk if you accept requests but, I'd like it if you'd do one for Ran Haitani.. like I love that mf do much, I wouldn't mind it if I'd read these types of headcanons about him.. either way, I love your work and thnx in advance!

Take good care of yourself, and most importantly have a wonderful day/night! 🩷🩷🩷

AHHH HI LOVE thx for requesting (you’re so nice help-)

Im glad you like what im writing and ofc im gonna give our braid boy some hcs (even if he sadly doesn’t have braids anymore 😔)

Anyways here it comes and hope you’ll like it!! (Also timeskip! Ran)

Btw I feel like I have a different vision of the character than what most people imagine, so sorry if it’s not what you expected

I will not take anymore full NSFW alphabet request because it’s just too long, but I will accept a maximum of 5 letters of your choice :)

NSFW under the cut

Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s surprisingly clingy after sex, he would probably bury his face in your neck and just hold your for a few moments. He’s quite lazy but if you’re really drained he’ll go get some things you may need like a glass of water or something to clean yourself with.

Body part : (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think he’s another one who loves his hands because MF have you seen those long ass fingers? Bet he can do some marvelous things with it.

Boobs. Thats all. Any shape or size he’s eating that up (literally) bc he worships your boobs so much, especially if you’re insecure about them he’ll just keep talking about your pretty tits.

Cum (anything to do with cum)

Boobs (still) but I can also see him like to cum down your throat to see you choke a bit on it (he’s a little shit, will watch you struggle with that shit eating grin)

Dirty secret

Sometimes during sex you may be confronted to him tickling you. He’ll downplay it as an accident or a playful banter. But in reality, he does it because everytime, it makes you clench even more around his cock.

Experience (How experienced are they?)

I don’t think Ran is really into serious relationships (especially Bonten Ran since he’s always busy). However, he had a few casual relationships and regular hook ups.

Favorite position

- Cow girl : He’s lazy, so sometimes when he’s tired from work (which is often), he’ll pull you onto his lap, pressing his growing bulge against your crotch. Loves when you’re riding him because he has a full view of your boobs, he likes to feel them bouncing on his face

- Thigh riding : Idk if it really counts as a position, but something about seeing you grinding on his thigh, desperate for release turns him on immensely. He’d lay back and just watch you struggling from his lack of help. The most he’d do to help you is a slight bouncing of his thigh, still keeping it minimal.

Goofy (are they more serious in the moment or humorous?)

He’ll most likely not be serious during intimacy. He doesn’t think it’s a big deal and he just loves teasing you, in and out of the bedroom.

Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

As someone who (canonically I think) likes to take care of his looks, trimming is very important to him. He either trims regularly or completely shave.

Unfortunately he doesn’t have lilac pubes.

Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

I see Ran as a very romantic person (despite his relentless teasing)

I think he’d always take the time to initiate things by holding you and peppering your skin with kisses. I just think that foreplay is important to him.

Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t do it often. I don’t see him as someone particularly needy on this side, even so now that he has you. He only does it when he has to blow off some steam and you’re not here.

Kink (one or more of their kinks)

- Dry humping : As I said earlier, he can be lazy. So sometimes he won’t even take the time to undress and will just grind against you. It often ends up in you two cuddling in bed while he rubs his clothed crotch against yours, holding you tightly.

- Cockwarming : He loves the warm feeling of your walls around him, sometimes not even in a sexual way. When he had a bad day for exemple he’ll sometimes ask to just be buried inside of you, tiredly kissing your neck.

Location (Favorite places to do it)

I think he’s someone who mostly keep this in his apartment. Any corner is fine as long as no one sees. Sometimes he’ll even initiate things in his office, occurs when he’s needy but can’t get out of work, so he’ll just ask you if you can come visit him.

Motivation (what gets them started and going)

Loves seeing you confident. Something about your playful smile when you initiate things and climb on his lap will give him an immediate boner that only you can satisfy.

Lives for the sight of your boobs bouncing on his face. He actually doesn’t really like positions where he can’t see them properly. Will squish them together and suck on them pretty tits <3

NO (something they wouldn’t do/turn offs)

Threesomes and voyeurism are a major turn off. He doesn’t like sharing you one bit, not matter with who (sorry to those Haitani threesome enjoyers, I just don’t see it)

The sight of your naked body is something that only him should be allowed to enjoy.

Oral (Giving/receiving preferences, skills..)

Even though he likes the feeling of your warm pussy better, he’ll never say no to a blow job. Might even ask you to cockwarm him with your mouth under his desk while he works.

He might not eat you out often but when he does, it’s damn good. He’s still a little shit so he won’t let you cum from that, he will edge you until you beg for his cock to finish the work, which he gladly does.

Pace (are they more fast and rough or slow and sensual)

SLOW. AND. SENSUAL. Listen he might be a lil shit but boy he thinks there’s nothing better than a slow pace to fully enjoy you, sometimes so slow that you have to beg him to go faster (might have a slight begging kink also)

Quickie (Do they enjoy it quick?)

He does not enjoy them particularly. He’s big on foreplay and likes to go slow, so quickies are reserved for needy emergencies. When it happens he’ll promise you to fuck you well later, when you’re all alone :)

Risk (are they up to experiment, do they take risks etc…)

I don’t think he’d like too much to get out of his comfort zone but if there’s something you really want to try he’ll indulge you. Who knows, maybe he’ll discover things about himself.

Stamina (How many rounds can they go)

Despite being lazy, I think he has a pretty good stamina. He can probably go up to 2/3 rounds depends of the position, maybe more in dry humping.

Toy (Do they own toys? Using them on a partner or themselves?)

I actually think he would. I feel like he would be big on nipple clamps (this man loves playing with your tits)

Probably the type of guy to gift you a dildo in the shape of his dick for when he’s not there.

Unfair (How much do they like to tease)

Do I really have to say it? Of course he’s a fucking tease. He will edge you for so long then overstimulate you until you can’t take it. He can be a bit of a meanie sometimes but it will remain playful.

Volume (How loud are they?)

Wouldn’t bother to hide his moans, low moans and whispered curses probably. His moans are so damn attractive I swear, straight out of a porn movie, especially when you ride him.

Wild card (random headcanon)

After a long day of work he asked you to cockwarm him. You sat on his lap as he buried his face in your neck. I took you ten minutes to realize he fell asleep while being inside of you.

X ray (Let’s see what going on under those clothes…)

I think he would rather be on the thin side, but long. Like 7,5/8 inches long. Probably with a slight curves and a brownish-pink tip.

Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I don’t think he has a high libido to be honest. But when you’re needy and he’s not he’ll just have you ride his thigh. Hell, it might even convince him to just fuck you.

ZZZ (How fast do they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s a sleepy baby. Not but really, after getting you what you needed, he’ll fall asleep instantly. Even though he has a high stamina it still takes him a lot of energy.

[faetima]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 . .

. . he's just had a little taste of infatuation. or is it obsession?

// tws ; stalking, taking photos w/o knowledge of other person ; gn reader ; yandere au 

a/n: i swear i'll start writing the aventurine exes hanahaki au after i post this

click!

a soft flash of white light, akin to the color of the small wings that adorned him, appeared before sunday as the camera went off. it encased you in a photo, forever embedding your beauty into a polaroid.

you were so pretty.

too pretty.

even a photo couldn’t capture your full beauty — you were just too beautiful.

too pretty.

too heavenly.

too ethereal.

all sunday wanted was you. all he needed was you. he just loved you so, so much — a little too much, if you were to ask robin or aventurine or anyone other than him about it.

sunday was meant to be yours. you had ripped his heart out, claiming it as your own (well, not that he minded too much. you could have him as well for all he cared!).

you couldn’t just leave him like this after you had yanked and twisted and pulled his heart out of his body, leaving him only to bleed out.

sunday felt as if he would die without you.

you were oxygen, the only thing breathing life into him.

an oasis in a desert, which he would die without.

sunday wanted you. no, wait — scratch that. he needed you.

he.

needed.

you.

well, that would have to wait. for now he would have to settle with having only a minimal amount of photos and polaroids of you.

well, if "few" meant having walls and walls and walls of his mansion covered and plastered with only photographs of you.

he just needed you so bad. so, so bad.

if only you noticed him. if only you were bewitched with his heavenly and ethereal appearance like he was with yours. if only his words, strung together carefully and ever-so-delicately so he could tie you up defenseless, worked on you. if only his cunning yellow eyes — just like the chesire cat's — enchanted you, leaving you in a trance, as your eyes did to him.

every time you were around him, his heart raced, as if it would leap out of his chest at any moment. but, unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same about you, which was a tragedy indeed.

his need for you was more than desire or a craving. it was as a human needed water. if they didn’t have it for a prolonged amount of time, they would perish.

as would he if he didn’t have you.

though, it would only be but a matter of time before he had you tied up with his strings of words too, just like he had done to everyone else. even if it meant following you everywhere you went, unbeknownst to you. perhaps one would call it stalking, but it wasn’t his fault he had such an unhealthy obsession with you.

you would be his, akin to how he was yours.

you will be his.

another click.

another photo.

another step closer to having you.

[astaroth1357]

Devildom "Marriage/Proposal"

Again. Probably not too Christian-coded in Hell.

Contents: Satanic themes, possessive behavior mentioned

~♡♡♡~

First off, there's a big difference between a demon bonding with another demon vs. binding to a human. There's a lot more equal ground in the former, but the power dynamics are inherently different in the latter.

Traditionally, a demon "marrying" a human is usually used as the highest form of reward to an incredibly loyal follower. It's basically a way for a demon to point them out and make it clear, "This one is my favorite!"

Demons binding themselves to humans out a genuine connection is not unheard of, of course, but it's frightfully rare. Only handful may every do this at a time and not even Solomon has managed to pull it off despite the number of pacts under his belt.

It's this rare because to reform the new pact, the demon has to give up their grimoire (the books that more or less act as substitute for a demon's heart and soul) to their partner. It's like handing away the essence of their very being to another.

When demons bind with each other, the grimoire exchange is mutual. However, since humans don't have grimoire, binding to a human is seen as an act of extreme sacrifice and humility on the demon's part. It's truly the only kind of pact they have where the risks lie mostly with them.

Possessing a demon's grimoire is like literally owning the blueprint to their bodies. All of their powers, history, thoughts, and fears are detailed out within them. Every single weakness or spell to control them hides inside as well...

Because of this, demons take this decision very, VERY seriously. If your relationship falls apart, you don't want something that important left in the hands of your ex. A vast majority of demons never even show their grimoires, much less give them away.

A demon will only ever have one grimoire to share, so they can only ever be bound to one individual at a time. A human can technically be bound to multiple demons and having a binding pact does not erase lesser pacts, but again, it would be rare.

When an individual is in possession of a demon's grimoire, they will always be able to materialize it with just a slight flick of the wrist. Having it on their person will also be enough for them to summon the owner at will, barely a whisper necessary.

A demon will already show up stronger than usual if they're summoned by their grimoire, but using any added enchantments inside will only increase their power tenfold. A good caster can turn their partner into supercharged war machine with minimal effort.

There's a certain oneness between the pair that comes from binding that goes far beyond your average pact. The demon and their partner get the heightened ability to "read" each other. It's not full on telepathy, but they gain a preternatural sense for just how the other is feeling. An entire conversation can be held in the span of seconds with merely few glances and a shrug between them.

Demons are also EXTREMELY protective of their bound partners, which kind of makes sense considering what they're carrying around. They're not very good at hiding it either. We're talking full fangs out and deep, guttural growls at even the most minor of threats.

The offer of the grimoire is technically seen as the "proposal" and acceptance commences the "marriage." It's a big deal with when high-ranking demons decide to do this, so it's often celebrated by a public wedding ceremony.

The Grimores

Lucifer's grimoire has a real gothic flare to it. The whole thing is jet black leather with blood red rubies fixed to the spine and fine layer of gold leaf pressed into the corners. No matter where it's being kept, cover will always feel a bit cold to the touch... The pages are thick and textured, with every word inside written inside done in a careful, nearly mechanical hand. Perfectly legible. Technically flawless. Though certain pages are written with some hesitation, particularly the ones that go over his past...

Mammon's grimoire is, arguably, the most beautiful of the bunch. It's snow white with brilliant gold accents on the spine and along the edges. His personal sigil, painted in shimmering light, takes up most of the front cover and mesmerizes any eye that catches its shine. It's a little on the slim side, though, due in part to how thin pages are inside. Reading it can be a bit messy because the caster can always see whatever words have been scrawled out on the back of the page...

Leviathan's grimoire looks like something straight out of a sunken treasure chest. The brownish-violet leather used to bind it feels real, and it is, though it couldn't have come from any mortal creature on land. The edges are worn down and cracking from neglect, giving the whole thing a certain fragility over the rest... The pages are yellowed and hard from water damaged, yet the words inside still survive... even if parts of them are a tad smudged.

Satan's grimoire could probably pass for 18th century notebook. It too is leather bound, but it doesn’t have the same flare as his older brothers'. If anything, it has a very DIY feel to it, where the cover has a little glue in places it shouldn't and the rough-feeling pages don't all fit quite right. It feels more like a field journal than a demonic tome, perhaps adding to the distinct aura of rebellion radiating off of it... The script inside seems to change from page to page with some part written neatly and other parts apparently scrawled out in a rage. Legibility may vary.

Asmodeus' grimoire looks more like a decorative art piece than a book at times... The wine red cover is smooth and shiny with polished gems affixed like a spider's web on the front. Asmo's grimore is unique in that it is the only one that comes with a lock on it, one that can only be lifted by a spell only he knows. The penmanship inside is naturally beautiful, though sometimes the added flare of loops and flourishes gets in the way keeping everything readable.

Beelzebub's grimoire is deceptively simple looking compared to the others. It looks like your standard leather-bound book and aside from its surprising thickness, not much stands out about it. Even the engraving of his sigil on the cover doesn't have any extra color or shadow to it. But when it's open, the most gorgeous words lie inside as if penned by a master calligrapher. Every bit of space is used appropriately and each letter is clean, clear, and fluidly handled. It's not only legible, it's breathtaking and obviously done with a lot of time and care.

Belphegor's grimoire looks like a void in the space around it. It goes beyond the jet black of Lucifer's cover to an almost true black from cover to pages. You wouldn't even know that it's made of leather unless you felt it because it reflects no light and it betrays no design. Running a hand across it, though, does reveal the ridges of Belphie's sigil craved into the front and back cover. The black pages all have words are written in a bright, silvery, and iridescent ink. Parts of the pages also look seem to contain spilled stardust ready to fly off into the air. The penmanship is a little simple, compared to the rest, but nothing that can't be skimmed at a glance if need be.

Diavolo's grimoire could kill a man from its weight alone. The book is far too big for any shelf and thick with heavily textured, papyrus-like paper. No matter who has it, it will always feel as if a supernatural force is trying to pull it from their hands... Seeing much past its burgundy, black, and gold cover is more or less impossible but what's there truly befits royalty. Every aspect of the design is flawless, with polished onyx as black as night embedded in the spine and ancient symbols peppered between golden spindle-like filigree. One can only imagine what exactly is so forbidden on the inside though...

Barbatos' (true) grimoire is an honest to god mystery... No one has ever seen it and Solomon theorizes that he keeps it in a particularly empty timeline. If asked what it looks like, Barbatos will share that it's simply "a green book," but not elaborate much farther before changing the subject... One has to assume, though, it's probably as thick as a tree trunk with all the history within those pages and for the cover...? He's had all of the time in the world to make it something truly special.

[loganwritesprobably]

Chronic Pain

Content/Warnings: Crocodile/GN!Reader, pre-slash, Reader has chronic pain, Reader is a Buggy pirate

Notes: This is very self indulgent but hopefully people will enjoy

It was hard sometimes, life as a pirate. Even now that you were grounded, on land 90% of the time at Karai Bari, it was hard. The difference between being at sea and being on land was minimal when it came to you, you even still slept in a hammock.

You were a Buggy pirate at heart and you always would be, but since Crocodile had arrived you'd grown increasingly close. He'd decided you were the "least incompetent" amongst the crew and so when he needed a task to be completed that either couldn't be done by Daz or he'd be "wasted" on it, he sought you out to complete it instead. You didn't mind so much. Manual labour work had always been hard for you and while Buggy understood you did feel useless, and often that meant you overworked yourself and caused yourself more harm than necessary. Work for Crocodile was rarely of that nature.

Delivering letters, collecting the paper from the news coo, reading paperwork and contracts for him, confirming kills of marines, posting new bounties - they were less straining. But, some days there was nothing he needed you for, and so you'd default back to your Captain's side and do what he needed.

Yesterday had been like that. You'd found the crew working hard, asked where you needed, and you simply joined them. First was moving a new shipment from the docks to the big top, then was transporting some of the new shipment to different areas of the island, then erecting a new tent, then moving old and broken materials to another part of the island for disposal. It'd been a lot of heavy lifting and walking, which was awful for your joints, but you'd gotten on with the work despite the discomfort.

Today, you were in awful pain. You'd managed to make it to breakfast with a grimace on your face and a small limp, and the crew had been worried. You'd intended to ignore it, until Cabaji snitched on you to Buggy, who sent you back to bed to rest. He'd scolded you, but he'd done it gently and with concern. He struggled with pain too, and yet he never seemed to stop, so you'd called him a hypocrite under your breath before retreating to your hammock to take a nap. You'd been tired anyway.

You were woken again not even an hour later by Crocodile himself, who had apparently been looking for you to get some work done for him. Daz Bones was elsewhere, and so he'd had to find you personally.

"Sir?" You asked, rubbing a hand over your face with a yawn. You enjoyed the short few moments of bliss before your pain kicked in again.

"Why are you still sleeping?" He asked harshly, and you sat up slowly, brows furrowed as you concentrated on not falling while trying to ignore your pain.

"Sorry sir. Captain Buggy sent me back to bed this morning to rest, but I can be ready in ten minutes if I'm needed." You replied, ready to do whatever was needed. You liked Crocodile a lot, more than you probably should, you were only too happy to assist him.

"Why the hell would he do that?" Crocodile questioned with a sneer, looking you up and down as if scanning for injuries.

"I have chronic pain, sir. I overworked myself yesterday and woke this morning in more pain than usual. But, I'm prepared to work if you need me." You wanted to be honest, because you didn't doubt that Crocodile would be able to identify a lie immediately, but you also didn't want to lose his favour. Those quiet afternoons you spent together both doing paperwork had a special place in your heart. Crocodile regarded you for a long moment, considering his next steps. All you could do was sit and not wither under his gaze.

"I understand the feeling," he said after a moment, words clipped as if he didn't really want to be talking about it, "don't push yourself so hard. I'll speak with Buggy about having you work with me full time, doing less strenuous things." Crocodile nodded once he was done, mostly to himself, pleased with the course of action.

"Whatever you'd like, sir. I'm happy to help." You replied, and you were in fact only took happy to do what he'd suggested. You could see the way Crocodile chewed the inside of his cheek with uncertainty for a moment, a side effect of not having a cigar in his mouth, and then he shook his head and returned to himself.

"Yes, well. Rest today, captain's orders, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow." And then he turned and left before you could respond or argue.

You had a lot of mornings with Crocodile in your future, it would appear.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf

[petpenname]

❣️Red Wine Supernova❣️

pairing: dealer!ellie williams x introverted(f)reader c.w: weed smoking, insinuated self-pleasure Summary: modern college au, dealer!ellie x introverted!(f)reader, slow burn with some sad elements. Inspired by Red Wine Supernova by Chapel Roan Parts: 1. I Just Want To Get To Know You 2. Mini Skirt and My Go-Go Boots 3. I Don't Care That You're A Stoner + Epilogue: Falling Into Me a/n: new writer so be nice >:3 sry if the format is a lil fucked

Part One:

I Just Want To Get To Know You

Mornings are your happy place. Your room is your sanctuary, and you greet the day in your usual fashion. Floating around your space listening to music, doing your skincare and makeup, and finding the perfect outfit. This morning, however, was anything short of paradise. Today was the last day of finals week and all the studying and stress got the best of you last night as you completely burnt out of all your routines. You push the empty chip bags and energy drinks aside on your nightstand to make some room for your phone, which is dead. How could you forget to plug it in? 

Opting to check the time on your computer you realize you overslept. There's only twenty minutes to don an outfit before you head to your first exam of the day. You curse yourself first then promise to have a full self care evening after finals are finished. Tossing on some leggings and an oversized hoodie equipped with the Jackson College logo. You do a quick wash of our face, minimal skin care, grab your phone, bag and shoes and you are out the door. 

Thankfully, living a block from campus has its pros. You fast walk the block to campus and b-line for the cafe. Popping in and getting into the short line hoping to see someone who knows your order working. You let out a sigh of relief when you see Sasha working the cash register. 

The barista greeted you, “Morning Y/N! Happy end of finals week!” 

“Morning Sasha, I can’t wait for this week to be over. I'm in a rush this morning so I'll just do my coffee, no pastry please.”

“Sure thing babe” she starts writing in your order, “it'll be out in just a minute.”

You pay and wish each other luck finishing exams. Retiring to a stool on the side of the pickup area, you put your headphones in to try and reclaim some peace in your morning. After a full song plays you glance at the time and realize you have been here for a few minutes too long. Behind the barista station, you see a brown-haired girl facing the back counter. She's moving around like she doesn't know what she's doing and Sasha is watching from the side making small comments. You assume it's a new hire so you wait the extra minute for her to finish with your drink -praying that she doesn't fuck it up and ruin another part of your morning. You zone out to your music again and before you know it you hear your order being called out:  “Medium mocha with half chocolate for.. y/n?” 

You look up and almost choke on your breath as your eyes meet pools of emerald green. Light whips of auburn fly around a flushed face, dotted with freckles. You stumble off the stool and brush fingers with the girl as you grab your coffee, not wanting to take your eyes off her. 

“Sorry it took a minute Y/N, Ellie here is training today” Sasha pipes in from behind. The girl smiles sheepishly as your eyes snap away and focus on the coffee in hand. When did you grab this? 

“Oh, yeah, no problem, thank you!.” you say, trying to recollect yourself. “I’ll see you later Sasha!” 

Heading out the door, the cool air whips the interaction out of your mind, as your only focus now is making it through the rest of the finals day.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

5pm finally rolls around and you let out a sigh as the fresh air hits you while leaving the lecture building. You pull out your phone to check for messages and play some music on your walk back.

You have (7) unread messages:

*H03 Hoes* Olivia: Anyone up for dinner and a movie? I need to dissociate after  this week o.o Ivy: yes I'm there but only if we can get Red Mill Phoebe: I'll be at Daniels tonight :)  Olivia: we know pheebs lol have fun love birds Sage: if we are getting Red Mill im gettin high Ivy: Y/N!!!? Where are youuu?? Phoebe: :D

Staring at the screen you smile in relief, just what you need after a long day; your roommates out of the house, time for yourself. Your last two exams were harder than you expected and all you want to do is order takeout, put on a show, and take a bath. You gather your thoughts and text a response;

*H03 Hoes* Y/N: staying in girls, i need some TLCOlivia: i don't blame you, this week was fucked Ivy: Want us to bring you back a burger? Y/N: that's okay, i'm ordering Thai :) Sage: oh my god you really do need this night, i'm leaving you a joint Y/N: lol thanks sage Olivia: we'll be back by midnight! Have fun ;)

Your roommates were always understanding, you really couldn't have wished for a better housing placement. House 03 was one of ten houses that were off-campus communal housing. You moved into the house a month into your first semester at school. The rest of the girls had time to bond but welcomed you in like another sister. Your introverted tendencies sometimes made you feel like a shut-in as your roommates always had something to do or somewhere to be. Sage was probably the most understanding, she enjoyed staying in also & always shared her stash with you when she did. On the rare occasion you accepted, you and she got stoned and watched shitty TV and ate takeout. 

Finishing your response to the girls, you put on a playlist that you've been loving recently and put your phone away, looking up just in time to come face to face with another person. Bumping into each other you both stumble back in equal confusion.

“Ah fuck, shit, sorry!” says a honey sweet voice.

Y/N: “Oh fuck no im sorry! I was not paying attention” you take out your earbuds and catch your balance as you look up at who you collided with. Green eyes instantly meet yours. Swirls of auburn hair and freckles dance across her face as she smiles and laughs.

“Oh hey, didn't I make your coffee this morning?”

“My what?” you say in confusion.

“Your coffee! At the cafe, I was training this morning. You got like a mocha or something?” the girl rubs her temple trying to remember.

“oh! Oh yeah! That was you” you chuckle, stealing yourself away from her gaze. Holy shit, you completely forgot about this morning, how could you forget about such a pretty girl?

“That's me!" She says. "I'm Ellie, by the way.” She holds out a hand with a sideways smile.

“Im Y/N” shaking her hand, blushing a little.

Ellie: “So where are you in such a rush to, Y/N?” 

You laugh, “nowhere really, home. I'm so over this week.” 

“Same oh my god, I'm almost done with work I just have a drop off to do. Then I'm free!” 

Her goofy enthusiasm was infectious, you felt oddly comfortable with this girl.

“Oh, cool? I'm going that way” you point across and down the street towards the College neighborhood. 

“Me too! Walk together?” Ellie suggests

You nod and set off together. It was a short walk and for the first few steps, you were quiet. Everything happened so fast, the collision, the conversation, and now you're walking together?! That's no big deal, you're just walking together! You steal a glance at the girl beside you. Holy shit how long has she been staring at you? “I'm not even going to ask how your finals went if they were anything like mine!” Ellie laughs, scratching the back of her head  

You chuckle trying not to trip over your own feet, “yeah they were pretty difficult, i'm just glad they are over for now” 

There's not enough conversation to distract you from the growing ball of nerves in your stomach. You keep stealing small glances at the beautiful girl strolling alongside you with such ease and confidence. Before you know it you get to your house walkway, you turn to Ellie

“This is me, uh it was nice meeting you! And thanks for making my coffee” You are suddenly aware of how awkward you feel, trying not to make eye contact.

“Oh yeah no problem,” Ellie leans slightly to look behind you at the house, “you live here? Do you know Sage? I'm here to meet her.” Ellie says, pointing towards your house She's asking about your roommate? Something clicks when you realize you've seen this girl before, no you’ve heard her voice before. Whenever Sage stayed in she would call her dealer, who never came inside but Sage and her would talk on the porch for a bit during the deal.

“Are you Sage’s dealer?” you ask.

“Have you been smoking my shit?” Ellie laughs

“No I mean, sometimes I partake, but yeah Sage is my roommate, um come on up?” 

“Wicked” Ellie follows you up the path and steps and waits at the door as you call into the house.

“I'm home! Sage! You have a visitor!” 

“HI HOME! I'm Sage!” you hear from upstairs as the blonde girl comes bounding down the stairs. “Oh what's up Ellie, sorry you had to deal with her y/n” 

Ellie scoffs behind you, “yeah whatever, you can find a new dealer”

Sage laughs, “And buy from a dude? No way, I support woman-owned businesses. How much do I owe you?”

You bow out subtly during their conversation. Before the two girls make their exchange you are halfway up the stairs. Letting their conversation get muffled as you enter your bedroom. You don’t know why you seclude yourself so much. Social interactions can be so anxiety inducing for you and you were well past spent on interacting this week. 

Tossing your shoes and bag in the corner you collapse on the floor wrapping a blanket around you. Finally safe in your own space. It wasn't long before you heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Sage was knocking on your door.

“Hey babes, you doing okay?” 

You get up, blanket still wrapped around you and shuffle to the door, opening it slightly before leaning on the door frame, looking like a sad puppy.

“Oh y/n it was a long week huh? Well I'll be out of your hair soon. I just wanted to give you this.” she holds out a joint, which you now know came from Ellie.

“Thanks Sage, I might actually spark this tonight.” You smoked with Sage occasionally but never alone.

“It’ll help, light it in the bath! That's my favorite thing to do” Sage beams and hands over the joint, it was beautifully rolled, you almost didn't want to ruin it. She gives you a small squeeze on the arm and blows you a kiss before wishing you a good night and skipping towards her room to get ready for the evening. 

You shut the door and drop the blanket down, giving into a big stretch before locking into self care mode. This is where you really excel, you know the ins and outs of what creates an environment that lets you rest and recoup to the best of your abilities. And currently your room was in disarray from the late nights spent studying and dissociation. You put your headphones in and go to work. It takes half an album to clean up the mess from the previous week. You are feeling much better and continue on your self love ritual. Peaking your head out into the hallway you listen for any sound of your roommates. 

Silence, perfect, Olivia and Ivy must have come and left with Sage while you were cleaning. You pop your headphone back in and continue your groove downstairs to get something to drink and order your take out. While on the call your phone buzzes from a text, thinking nothing of it, it must be one of your roommates. You complete your order and finish up in the kitchen returning to your room for a much needed bath. All focus on yourself.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's nearly an hour later, you've drawn your bath and your take out has arrived. A shitty show you’re half paying attention to plays off your laptop, propped up on the laundry basket. You finish your last spring roll feeling a little bored and you grab your phone, figure you’d scroll some socials for a bit. Flicking on your screen you see you have a text from an unknown number. 

Unknown: “Do you always stay in on a friday night? ;)”

Your hear skips a beat. Your heart rate rises, confused and anxious who got your number? How do they know your home alone? Also this was an hour ago! You text back; Y/N: um, who is this?

You wait only a minute before you get a text back,

 “Ellie :)”

Relief sets in, not a creepy guy or stalker, thank god. Your phone buzzes again.

Ellie: “Gosh made you coffee and walked you home, am I that forgettable?”

You text back quickly, “no sorry, hey! I just didn’t know your number. How did you get mine?”

Ellie: “Sage gave it to me, I hope that's okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah that's cool!” you text back.

A little confused why Sage would give out your number without asking but your thoughts are interrupted by another text from Ellie:

“You didn't answer my question silly ;)”

You reread Ellie's first text. You do usually stay in, even on friday nights.

“Pretty much lol” you respond with another text, “I don’t really like parties”

“I feel that, good for business, bad for vibes lol” ellie responds

You stare at the screen, taken aback by how all of a sudden you are talking to this girl you hardly know for the second time today. Suddenly the bath is way too hot and wet, your laptop playing a little too loud. You close your phone, pause your show, and start to drain the tub. Rinsing off and finishing up your shower routine, you are standing at the vanity when your phone lights up catching your eye. It’s Ellie again,

“So would you like some company? I'm nearby actually” A glance at the time tells you it's 9pm, late for you, your only other plans for the night was to curl up in bed and continue your show until you fall asleep. You take a second to think about things as you put some clothes on, a soft pair of pajama bottoms, a tank top and a slouchy oversized sweater. Something in you was intrigued with this girl. It was strange for you to feel like you wanted to hang out with someone let alone someone you just met late at night. 

You pace for a minute thinking, am I really going to do this? Typing out the text and holding your breath before hitting send then chucking your phone on the bed and running to the mirror.

“Okay, why don't you come over?”

You inspect your appearance. Natural beauty, your skin care routine was spot on and truthfully you loved your look the most at night after you cared for yourself. You felt a rush of adrenaline and took a few breaths to calm yourself before sliding on a pair of slippers and grabbing your phone to go downstairs. Before leaving, the joint on your night stand catches your eye and it only seemed right to bring it along, Ellie did roll it.

On the way down the stairs, there's a knock at your door, that was fast. You peek out the window to be safe, Ellie standing with her back to the window facing away from the door. Hand scratching the back of her head, it looks like she's changed since you saw her last. You open the door and catch a whiff of pine and amber as she turns to face you, the same sideways smirk on her face from before. She's wearing all black, dirty Converse, ripped jeans, and a black jacket over a green hoodie.

“Hey, whoa cute fit” Ellie laughs as she looks you up and down, “cozy?”

You move a little at her comment, noticing how underdressed you are. “You caught me at the end of my shower” 

She chuckles again, “well I wasn't trying to take you out, was wondering if you wanted to smoke this with me?” Ellie pulls a joint from behind her ear, and holds it up between her pointer and middle finger.

Your nerves are going crazy but something in the way she looks at you makes you feel at ease in her presence. 

“Yeah sure, I have one of yours already actually” you say as you hold up the joint, it's a little crushed as you realize your hands were clenching. 

Ellie laughs, “you keep that one, we can smoke this one” she gives you that smile again. “Are we gonna stand on the porch all night?”

You snap into reality a bit and stumble over your words and yourself, letting her into the house. “no! Sorry, ya we can smoke in the back, we have some chairs out there.”

“Sweet, I'll follow you cutie” 

You turn away from the comment before Ellie could see your cheeks go up in flames. 

You lead her through the house to the back door and out into the small yard. There's a fire pit in the corner with a few lawn chairs around it. There's a light breeze in the air but it's rather temperate for a spring evening. You sit down in a chair and Ellie flops down next to you. Pulling out a lighter and joint. You watch as she puts the joint between her lips, lightly holding it with one hand and lighting with the other. Your eyes are locked on her while she inhales and the cherry goes red illuminating her soft features. Only when she exhales a cloud of smoke and looks at you do you look away quickly. Darting your gaze away to the joint held out in front of you. 

“Here ya go y/n” Ellie's voice is low and gravely, cutting through the silence of the night. 

You swallow and take the joint, breathing out preparing yourself for the hit. You can feel Ellie's eyes on you as you inhale, hold for a second too long, and exhale out in coughs, covering your face and shoving the joint in Ellies direction. “Shit, hahah, I don't smoke that often.” you get out

“Oh! That's okay, you don’t have to if you don’t want it!” Ellie takes another drag, hesitating to pass it back your way.

“No, no it's okay, the first hit is always the roughest,” you say through your coughing fit. “I usually smoke with Sage.” 

Taking another drag and speaking as smoke billows out past her lips, “Okaaay you can tap out at any time light weight” She chuckles at the end of her sentence but reaches the joint back out to you. You take it, needing another hit to settle the growing nerves in your stomach, she will not stop looking at you.

You and Ellie pass the joint back and forth a few rounds in easy silence. Only a few loud conversations and music from down the block fill the air. Ellie breaks the silence after a moment.

“So I know you said you don’t like parties but there's this one tomorrow night at my friend Jessie’s house, he lives in 09. My roommate Dina and I are going, you might like it?” 

Jessie… You've heard that name before, he was one of Daniel’s, Phoebe's boyfriend's roommates. A group of boys that live in House 09, down the street from you. You've actually been to their house for a party once before. It was fun for an hour until you Irish good-byed to go home and lay in bed. Texting your roommates of course, because girls always need to stay safe. Considering your roommates would be inviting you to this party as well you decide to accept Ellies invitation too.

“Oh yeah, my roommate Phoebe is dating Daniel who lives in 09, i'll probably be there for a little bit.”

Ellies face lights up, and she moves in a way that looks like she's trying to hide her excitement. “You will! Cool, I'll see you there then! Ah this thing is out.” She stubs out the cherry in the joint and tosses it into the fire pit. “Well I should let you get back to your evening princess, I have a few more drop offs to do tonight anyway.” She stands from her seat with a stretch  and holds her hand out for you to grab as you stand. Her jacket got pushed up a bit and you notice a dark image on her forearm, a tattoo? It's hard to tell in the dark. You grab her hand, making a mental note of how strong and soft they are before standing fully and stepping back.

“I'll walk you out then, uh thanks for smoking me out” Your mind is hazy and calm, you barely realize that your nerves are settled, you're comfortable. Ellie follows you back into the house and to the front door, you both pause at the open door, Ellie's eyes on yours, yours on your hands.

“So I'll see you tomorrow night?” Ellie breaks the silence, making you look up,suddenly the nerves are back.  

“Yeah, i'll see you around Ellie” you do your best to not shiver, and give her a smile.

The green eyed girl averts her gaze as she sheepishly scratches the back of her head. “Alrighty, have a good rest of your night!” She turns to leave but turns back, 

“oh yeah, it's a decade's party, so you gotta dress up”

She gives you stupid snap and finger guns and turns away, popping down the steps and into the night. You let the cool air wash over you as you watch her walk down the street. Noticing the flick of a lighter in the night as she goes out of sight. You close the door and nearly collapse against it as your stomach begins to flutter again. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

You take your phone out as you run up to your room, texting your house group chat immediately.

*H03 Hoes* Y/N: “Sage, why'd you give my number to a stranger?? Also… is there a party tomorrow night at H09?”

It was a little while before you got a response from your roommates, their movie must have ended, it was now 11:30pm. You shoot up from your bed responding to your roommates;

*H03 Hoes* Sage: “Ellies, not a stranger! And she asked for it ;)” Olivia: “The Decades party yeah! We were going to ask you tomorrow if you wanted to go!” Y/N: “Well yeah not anymore, she kinda came by the house and smoked me out.” Ivy: “Yo what?!!! y/n hung out with a girl??” Y/N: Hey, I'm allowed to do stuff! Lol Sage: lolol we’ll be home in a little bit! We can get ready for the party tmrw together :D”

You lock your phone and look around the room, you realize you had been pacing for that whole conversation. Adrenaline going crazy, your mind flashing images of auburn hair and green eyes. You probably had 30 minutes left of alone time in the house so you decide to end your night right, how you usually do. Stealing yourself under your blankets, touching and pleasuring yourself until your breath relaxes you into sleep. However tonight, green eyes stare back at you in your mind.

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