#shutting my brain off from The Horrors for tonight

[magnoliamyrrh]

okay yea sorry no more posting abt shit things tonight after this but like 20 years ago a dude who was on the fbi said hey a lot of these rich people politicians infleuncers whoever they have these islands all over the world where they do horrible shit to children and whatnot and often times its all used as blackmail and some ppl are even forced to do this shit as blackmail and to be part of these clubs theyve got

20 years ago. crazy cookoo conspiracy theory right? ohh just some nonsense oo theres no way

right. welp. two decades later and we all lived through the epstein stuff ey? weve all see the sheer extent of the connections, the photos, one of the literal islands, him being taken off the map, and the silence,,, ey?

[chaconnehoonie]

Obsession-(follow up) L.HS

✶ Heeseung X Fem! Reader

->This is a follow up to the first part, but you may read it alone if you please, reading the first part is just recommended to get the full story.

Synopsis- Your relationship with Heeseung proves that sometimes you’re forced to make commitments and sacrifices for those you love.

WC: 3.4k

Warnings: toxic relationship, cursing, insecurity, derogatory terms, smut, angst

Smut warnings: dub-con(?), oral(m) somnophilia, kissing, unprotected sex, spanking, rough sex, orgasm denial

A/N: I know I posted the first part to this a while ago but I felt so disappointed with it that I wanted to write something to follow up with. I’m also terrible with my writing schedule so hopefully this will get me back in the game, enjoy!

This is fiction and the scenarios are completely fake and from my brain, none of the characters are like this in real life, MDNI!

Heeseung was trying to be a good boyfriend. Sure, there are moments where he frustrates you or makes you question your relationship. But relationships are all about making commitments, right?

You’re committed to Heeseung- of course you’ll do whatever it takes to be with him. You’ll put up with his mood swings or his trust issues, accepting that he may just be a naturally jealous person.

He makes it hard, though, as he’s too jealous sometimes. He always has trouble believing you only have eyes for him, whether it’s when a stranger is checking you out at a party or you’re being too close for his liking with your best friends—who just so happen to be guys.

God, you love your friends, but it’s clear that Heeseung doesn’t. You don’t expect him to, of course, however you expect him to accept your close bonds with all three of them. They were existent in your life before him, after all.

You can’t bring this up around him though, as he gets quiet each time, stuck in his thoughts and fears of you leaving him. Being the understanding girlfriend you are, you decided to show him just how special he is to you.

✶.

Heeseung sits alone on the couch in your living room, mindlessly scrolling through Netflix in search for new movies or series to start. Since the beginning of your relationship, you both decided on having movie nights every Friday; cuddling up on the couch together with a warm blanket and a plethora of snacks.

You haven’t come home yet, sending him a quick message to let him know you’d be stopping by a grocery store for snacks, then you’ll speed home to see him.

He sits there and waits, grabbing a bag of chips to munch on, watches trailers for new horror movies with stupid plots and terrible actors, then waits some more.

What’s taking you so long? It’s not like you would stand him up, it’s not like you can stand him up—he’s in your house, anyways. Maybe the checkout line is taking too long. Maybe you stopped to buy some alcohol too, or what if that’s what you were planning but forgot your ID in the car?

What if he’s actually going the wrong rout and you had gotten into an accident? Or decided you didn’t like him anymore and wanted to sneak off with someone else before seeing him tonight- “Baby?”

Heeseung jumps at the sound of your voice, quickly turning around to see you shutting the front door, hanging your keys and slipping off your shoes. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t even hear the front door opening.

Your face holds a concerned look, rounding the couch and placing your bags next to Heeseung before dropping to your knees in front of him. “You okay? What happened?” Your hands gently caressed his knees in hopes to comfort him, knowing he’s a sucker for physical touch.

He only shakes his head and pulls you to sit next to him. “Nothing, pretty. I just really missed you.” His voice sounds unsure, but you decided to accept his answer, knowing he hates being pushed to open up.

“I missed you too, cutie. I actually bought something I want to show you.” You peck his nose and his eyes light up in excitement. “I need to go prepare it in my room, but I’ll be back out before you know it.” You smile at him and he nods quickly. “I have to use the bathroom anyways. Perfect timing, I guess.”

You place a soft kiss on his upper lip before grabbing one of your bags and rushing upstairs while Heeseung makes his way to the bathroom. He takes a long look at himself, analyzing his features and taking note of how much better he’s been looking since he’s gotten with you. He’s taken care of himself more, focusing on eating healthier and getting haircuts more often, as well as doing some skincare and shaving his facial hair.

He really feels better with you, smiling to himself in the mirror when he realizes that he’s truly in love with you. He loves you—and he hopes you feel the same way.

After flushing the toilet and leaving the tap running for a minute, Heeseung makes his way out of the bathroom, pausing when he sees you wrapped up in your blanket, waiting for him on the couch.

Walking up hesitantly, he smiles anxiously at you. “What did you wanna-“ he’s cut off when you throw the blanket off of yourself, sat prettily with the most delicate lingerie adorning your body.

Black lace cups your breasts with thin straps hardly covering your shoulders, matching black lace panties sitting high and tight on your hips as the fat of your hips and butt jut out around the material.

Heeseung stands in front of you stiffly, mouth hung open and eyes locked on your figure. Siting up, you reach a hand towards his face and place it under his chin, gently forcing his jaw shut.

“Do you like it?” Your voice is soft and sultry, provoking him to finally touch you. He strokes your head, feeling your soft hair under his fingertips. He’s so in love with you— just that touch sends blood straight to the weight between his legs and he’s suddenly too weak to stand.

Sitting on the couch, he pulls you onto his lap without breaking eye contact. “I’ll take that as a yes.” You giggle and cup his cheek, pulling him into a kiss that only lasts a second as he’s murmuring against your lips. “Yes- fuck, yes.”

You gasp when he pinches one of your nipples through your thin lacy bra. Pushing his tongue into your mouth, he plays with your own in a mess of drool and moans, all while rocking your hips against his.

He pulls away to moan loudly, resting his head on the back of the couch. “I’m glad you like it.” You kiss his neck, licking his jaw slowly before sucking a mark into his skin.

“The boys helped me pick it out.”

His eyes shoot open at this, quickly sitting up and looking you in the eyes. “The boys?” He furrows his brows, confused, but also hurt. You let the boys-Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon, not only see you in lingerie but pick it out? For your boyfriend to see later on?

“What do you mean they helped you pick it out? Like you went to the store together and let them chose it? They seen you in it?” He sounds like he’s going to cry, voice cracking but there’s also a hint of anger.

You nod, eyes wide and worried. “Well, yes. I asked for their opinions because they’re also guys, you know? I thought that’d be the best way to figure out what you’d like…” you trail off as you take note of the irritation appearing on his face.

He finds no point in complaining, no reason to explain why he’s so hurt. Instead, he pushes you off of his lap rather harshly and you land on the soft cushions with a quiet ‘oof’. Of course he didn’t mean to be so aggressive, but with the way he stomps to the front door and angrily grabs his keys, slamming the door shut as he leaves, you can’t help but tear up at his angry demeanor.

Was he really that upset? Over your friends helping pick out a gift, for him? Sure, maybe you didn’t have to wear the lingerie while showing them but Heeseung should know by now that your relationship with your friends is nothing more than platonic.

Deciding you’re too heart broken after being left so alone and exposed, you head to bed early. Well, not exactly early if 11pm was anything to go by, definitely too late for Heeseung to randomly leave and expect you not to worry, but early enough for you to sleep off the mental pain and end up in a better mood in the morning.

✶.

You wake up as an odd weight hits your cheek, repeatedly tapping on your face as you feel the warmth radiating onto your skin. Your eyes open slowly, blinking a few times to fully wake yourself up.

It’s still dark, but you can make out the silhouette of someone standing uncomfortably close to you. Taking in a sharp breath, you turn to your alarm clock and note that it’s around 2am, quickly reaching to turn on the bedside lamp.

The light flickers on and Heeseung groans, quickly reaching his own hand to switch it back off. While he does that, you notice the way he’s fully clothed, save for his hard-on that’s currently face-to-face with you, peeking out from above his sweatpants.

“What-“ you’re cut off as he places a finger upon your lips, slipping it between them and into your mouth to tug your jaw open. You can’t tell what he’s doing with the lights off, but you don’t wonder for long as you suddenly feel his tip entering your mouth, sliding against your tongue.

You’re stiff, laying there in shock as he uses your mouth for his own pleasure, biting his lip with a groan. Heeseung has grown to be more comfortable around you, no longer trying to impress you in order to get you to like him, yet instead trying to impress you to get you to keep liking him—always outdoing himself to prove he’s worth your love.

However, he’s still shy at times, especially intimate times, so seeing him fully take control of you, take advantage of your sleeping figure, is new to you. It’s kind of arousing, but after what happened earlier you just can’t get yourself to enjoy it.

Especially with the way he grips the back of your head and shoves himself fully into your throat, holding you there until you gag and drool onto the ground. The position is awkward; he’s standing in front of you while you’re laying on your side, head hovering off the bed just enough to miss the sheets as your spit strings onto the wooden floor.

He lets out a deep moan, mumbling to himself about how wet and warm your mouth is, but not directly speaking to you. How could he speak to you after what you pulled earlier? Why would you deserve praise for going out and prancing around like that with your friends, basically slutting yourself out for them?

What you do deserve is the harsh thrusts of his hips as he fucks your mouth, pulling your hair harshly as he keeps your head in place while his cock suffocates you. You try to breathe through your nose, but you only choke and whine around him as tears blur your vision, not like you can see much in the dark, anyways.

He groans louder, thrusts harder, grips harder, all while you lay there and take it. He lets out a particularly loud moan as he pulls your head towards him, shoving your face far enough to touch your nose to his pubic bone, and then he’s cumming down your throat.

His hips are still as he twirls strands of your hair between his fingers, holding you in place as his release fills your mouth.

Finally pulling out, he breathes heavily before stuffing himself back into his sweats. He makes his way to the bathroom, situating himself before coming back to bed and wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close enough to be his little spoon. It confuses you, but you’d rather have this than have him stay angry at you.

“Thank you, pretty.”

✶.

The next day goes by smoothly, Heeseung acts completely normal when he goes to work for a couple hours, then coming home as you prepare lunch.

You’re glad he has work early enough for him to be done by the afternoon, but sometimes you wish he could stay in bed with you just a little longer than leaving at 5am, but at least he gets to come back at 1pm and spend the rest of the day how he pleases. You quickly learn though, that today he decides to use the day as he pleases by pleasing himself.

As you put ramen to boil and chop vegetables, humming a random song to yourself, you hear the front door shut. It doesn’t slam, so you know Heeseung isn’t angry, at least not enough to show it.

He walks up behind you, grabbing onto your waist and you smile, turning around for a kiss. He grips your chin, turning your face back to the counter and speaks lowly in your ear. “Keep chopping.” His voice is stern and you know he’s serious.

You hesitantly pick up the knife again, slowly cutting the vegetables as he pulls down your pants, panties going along with them, leaving you bare and exposed for him. It was only last night he was using you for himself, maybe he’s repaying the favor?

That idea is quickly shut down as you feel his tip prodding at your not very wet entrance, wincing at the stretch of the head doing its best to make its way between your folds. Of course you’ve both have had sex without foreplay before, but that was after a while of kissing and obvious arousal.

This time, he fills you up dry with only his precum coating your walls. You whine at the pain, stepping closer to the counter in an attempt to get away from him, but he only manhandles you back towards him.

Pulling out to the tip, he gives you a second to breathe before he pushes himself all the way back in, continuing with rough thrusts. He lands a loud slap to your ass, leaning forward and biting onto your shoulder. You cry out in pain, trying to take his cock the best you can while he uses you once again.

He’s fucking you, skin to skin, so that must mean he’s not upset anymore. You try to convince yourself as he thrusts harder, hands bruising your waist and hips as his knuckles turn white from holding you so tight.

He’s more vocal this time, moaning into your ear as you bounce between him and the counter top, knife now laying further away from you and vegetables roll off the counter, landing with a hard thud on the floor.

You moan as he picks up the pace almost inhumanly fast, wet sounds showing signs that you’re finally aroused enough, the slide of his cock against your walls is no longer painful.

He pushes your upper half forward more, fully bending you over the counter as he lands a harsh slap against your ass, echoing through the kitchen along with your high pitched moans.

His thighs slap against the back of your own, wet and covered in slick as you can’t hold back the squelching noises your pussy makes while being stuffed full.

“Oh God, Hee…” You whine but he’s tired of hearing you, placing his palm over your mouth to muffle your moans. “I don’t wanna hear it.” This confuses you, mainly because he’s always loved hearing your noises—proof that he’s pleasing you right. But now, he suddenly doesn’t want to hear them? Going as far as covering your mouth to shut you up?

Even with this hurt side of you, the pleasure is undeniable and before you can process it, you’re close to orgasm as Heeseung lands another harsh slap against your ass.

“Hee-baby, I’m gonna cum!” You pant heavily, inhaling a deep breath in preparation for your orgasm, only for it to be taken away from you. “No you’re not.” Heeseung slides his wet cock out of you, instead spreading your ass and pushing himself between your cheeks.

You scoff, now frustrated and in pain, wondering if this is what blue balls must feel like. You try to reach back and slide him back in, but he grips your wrist, pulling both of your arms back so your cheek lands harshly onto the counter top. Wincing, tears start pricking your eyes and you try to squirm away from him.

“Not letting you…d-don’t deserve to cum.” He grits through his teeth, pushing your butt cheeks together tightly as he thrusts, still keeping his fast pace.

Leaning forward, he rests his forehead between your shoulder blades, finally releasing as ropes of cum spurt out of his tip, landing across your back and staining your shirt, some reaching your hair to find in a sticky mess later.

You’re both panting, catching your breaths after whatever kind of rough, angry sex session that was. Still confused, you try to turn around, calling out to your quiet boyfriend. “Heeseung…” your voice is soft and comforting, and as much as he wants to accept it, he just keeps you turned around.

“Just- don’t.” That’s all he says before tucking himself back into his jeans and walking upstairs. The bathroom door shuts, still not slamming, but you can now tell that he is definitely still angry at you.

✶.

“So, what? He’s upset that we helped you and now you guys are having hot steamy hate sex?” Jake laughs to himself, taking a bowl of ramen from Sunghoon. A bowl of ramen you cooked for Heeseung.

You sigh, playing with your own ramen as you push it around the bowl with your chopsticks. “Yeah…I was cooking this when he came home and he just…did that.” You trail off at the end, not wanting to go into detail because no matter how good it felt, you were still hurt.

“Waitwaitwait.” Jay mutters with his mouth full, swallowing harshly before speaking again. “This ramen doesn’t have a special ingredient, right? His cum shot didn’t fly into here and now I’m consuming his babies?”

“Dude! What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“Come on- I’m trying to eat here!”

“You’re actually disgusting.”

Sunghoon gags as he imagines the scene playing out, downing his glass of water to calm himself. You pat him on the back as he keeps gagging, mainly to piss off Jay who now regrets what he said.

“Okay, Hoon. You can stop now, I get it.” Jay rolls his eyes, picking up his beer bottle and taking a sip while sending glares towards his friend.

Your face drops to your palms, sighing again as you think about these past two days. “He left like an hour before I invited you guys over.” You speak up, eyes teary as you bite your lip. “He didn’t eat…didn’t say goodbye…he just left.” You break down, a sob escaping your lips at the thought of your boyfriend leaving you so alone and embarrassed.

“Do you know what this means?” Sunghoon places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly to ease your tension. You shake your head no, confused as to what he’s implying.

He sighs, looking between Jake and Jay, then back at you. “This means you’re going to have to choose.” Your eyes widen, shaking your head more aggressively now.

“What do you mean choose?” You can’t believe they’d recommend something like this. “You know, choose if you want to stay with him. Let him treat you like that, let him get away with those things.”

He grabs your hand, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Or you can choose to stay with us. Keep being our friend, let us save you from this disaster.” His words hurt, but you know they must be true. “He just…” you inhale a shaky breath, “He just needs time. We’ll figure something out.”

Yeah, that’ll fix it. You’ll figure out a way to keep Heeseung happy and stay close to your best friends. Hopefully, without cutting any ties or creating an awkward atmosphere. But you’ll do whatever it takes to keep each of your boys happy.

[willowser]

now i wake up by your side—

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 2.8k+

tags: u.a. college au, canon-compliant, reader has a telekinesis/telepathic quirk, references (and potential spoilers) for the current arc in the manga, angst, a lot of secret hidden feelies

tysm to @alrightberries for giving me the opportunity to bring this lil thought of yours to life 🥺 your patience and understanding during the time it took me to write this is so appreciated it, and tbh you're the reason i'm even still here right now LOL you're so sweet, and i hold your kindness so close to my heart. i wish i could convey how much it means to me. i hope i did this even a lil justice !! happy birthday dear !!!! 🥺🩷✨️

Sero dreams of watching the sunrise on top of the Roppongi Observatory.

It’s a beautiful sight, one you’ve never seen with your own eyes, but you soak in the warmth flushing across his cheeks and the anticipated break of morning through the clouds. When he takes in a hefty breath, you feel the spring chill sting inside his chest, crisp and clear, like it’s you breathing instead of him, and it’s almost comforting enough to lull you to sleep, too.

But a clay pot shattering against a nearby bench has your eyes springing open, ripped from the haven you’d been lost to. 

You have to blink several times in order to fight through the exhaustion wearing you thin, but the evening returns to you in small, bleary doses. It’s the middle of the night—or at least it was when you’d first wandered out to the training field, and you can’t be sure how many hours have passed since then. Across the yard, you’ve successfully managed to carry four pots from the garden plot near the entrance all the way to your feet with your Quirk— but number five sits in pieces in the grass.

You’ll have to clean that up by morning or Eraser will make you run laps until you puke. Again.

Kirishima flits through your mind in a suit and tie: not as a Hero, but a spy of some kind, chasing down men with masks covering their faces and wielding a gun that looks odd in his hands, even in his own dream. Despite being back in the dorms, stories up and near the end of the hall, you can see it—hear him yelling out at the criminal to stop, feel the thud of the ground under his feet. His own determination blares through you like a freight train, as strong and damning as he is, and you fight to force yourself back inside your own shoes as you try to carry another pot.

Recovery Girl used to tell you that you did this to yourself: all your worry about losing sleep psyching yourself out of it completely, chasing it away before it even had the chance. When everyone is getting ready for bed, heading out of the common room and hitting the showers, you can feel that suspense building; what will come across tonight while everyone dreams? Fantasies? Or nightmares?

During the day it’s easier to drown out the foot-traffic of everyone’s thoughts—you do it without trying, now—but your brain needs rest, too. Letting go of control for even a second, just to get some shut eye is—

Something frightening is outlined in your peripheral vision, the dash of a pale shape you aren’t able to discern before it’s gone. The air turns metallic and stale and you can hear water sloshing, though you’re nowhere near the pools. All your blood rushes in your ears and your fingers curl, like you’re gripping your seat—gripping the edge of the couch in the common room, where you’d been sitting beside Mina when Kaminari put on that horror movie. The one with the—

“The hell are you doin’?”

Your eyes snap open for the hundredth time that night—show over, credits rolling—and it’s Bakugou. Standing only feet away from the new set of clay shards of your failure, tangible and real and staring at you with an intensity not even your dreams could mimic.

You blink, eyes stinging and heavy. You must look insane. “Oh, hey,” the voice that comes out of you is far-away, chartered off to distant lands, and he notices immediately, focus razor-sharp despite how late it is. “What did you say?”

Bakugou wrinkles his nose, like he’s offended at having to repeat himself. “I said, what the hell are you doin’? It’s nearly 2 in the morning and you’re out here throwin’ shit around in your fuckin’ pajamas.”

Almost on cue, the breeze brushes past your legs, chilly enough to have you shivering, and you peek down at them as if you don’t know what they look like. The sweater you’re wearing is from second year and the U.A. logo is half-worn off, but it’s the comfiest thing you own and if you’re going to be plagued all night by the forced intimacy of your classmates’ dreams—you at least want to be cozy.

When you look back up at him, Bakugou is pointedly looking away, taking interest in something other than your wimpy state of dress. 

It dawns on you then that he’s out here, too, in sweats and a simple back sweatshirt, hair a messy, golden halo in the pale, buzzing field lights. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think his face was a little rosy, but—maybe you’re seeing things.

Still. Being out and away from everyone, alone with Bakugou, makes your stomach tighten horribly. Like you’ve done too many sit-ups.

You try to brush off your sudden bout of shyness, because you know he’ll clock that in no time, too. “Well, I could ask you the same thing.” At the raise of your eyebrows, he only tchs, and casts you a filthy look. “But I think maybe I’ll just mind my own business.”

The face he makes is so awful and hot-blooded that you laugh, truly and earnestly, enough that a headache pulses to life. You wince, and the stream of pain that shoots down the middle of your skull brings back that image of Kirishima’s action-thriller: blood and knives, the sound of skin on skin, a fist against cheekbones, the ugly snap of breaking—

“Oi.”

Bakugou is closer than before, when you’re grounded back inside yourself. At least no pots have been broken this time. Less to clean up.

“Sorry,” you shoot him an apologetic smile that you know he must hate. “It’s just so—” your hand feels like it’s made of lead, but you drag it up to massage slow circles into your temple, trying not to grit your teeth and worsen the pounding in your head. “So loud sometimes.”

He’s silent until the pain ebbs out, and when you can blink without flinching, you peek up to catch how intently he’s watching your face. In the night like this, his eyelashes seem darker, longer, a kind of haunting beauty you would dream about, if you could get some sleep.

Again, you think of Kaminari’s horror movie, legs pressed against Mina’s under the heavy comforter she’d brought down from her room. It’s warm, the kind of pink, fluffy thing you’d imagine a girl like her to have—but it didn’t stop you from shivering every time you chanced a glance at Bakugou and found him already staring back.

The heat in your cheeks spreads to the back of your neck, so immediate that you think you might start sweating. “Dreams and stuff,” you murmur, by way of an explanation, “nightmares, sometimes.”

Bakugou's frown deepens, the muscle in his jaw tightening once as he grits his teeth. “What, you can just…hear that shit all night?”

“Usually,” you shrug, “It just comes in, you know? And I—” you steal another glance at him, aware, then, of just how intrusive you might sound. The veil of privacy is thin between you and others, and they don't often like being reminded of that. “Not for you, though. I don't—I don't get anything from you.”

And it's true, frustratingly enough. Not that you are ever intentionally peeking into anyone's head, but things slip through, occasionally—sudden reactions, wild, loose trains of thought. 

Bakugou's face twists, regardless, and you're reminded of all the times you've been forced to spar together, at Eraser's behest. One of the smartest in your class, quick on his feet and never without a plan; every time you've managed to get a hand on Bakugou, there's been nothing but a sea-shore calm.

It's hard to do and, at this point in your life, you've seen a thousand people try it—but he's the only one that's ever succeeded in keeping you at bay.

Nothing in his expression changes, but all your nerves spread to your voice until it shakes. “You're—I don't look in there, of course, but it's—you've always been…” Bakugou is terrible at taking compliments, you know that, almost as bad as you are at giving them. “Pretty, I guess.”

Awful, at giving them.

Embarrassment floods him, suddenly stained pink as he curls into himself. “Piss off,” he barks, and though he’s scowling at you in what must be disgust—you can’t help but to smile at how aggressively bashful he is.

You almost get the guts to make matters worse, just because you can. Admit how handsome you’ve come to find him, after the last few years, until his face is steaming in the sweet nighttime chill; the kind of intimacy you wouldn’t mind dreaming about again and again.

The absence of his thoughts are a comfort for your tired mind, has all the harsh edges of night fading into something a little easier to swallow, to breathe in. You know he does it on purpose as a strictly defensive move, but you almost want to thank him. For the quiet.

You don’t know if it’s from you or him, but when you reach a hand up to hover near his temple, the air buzzes between you, gently. Charged with that same thing that had you unable to look away from him in the common room only days ago. “In here, I mean,” you murmur, and the smile you pull on feels lame, but it’s as genuine as ever. “I don’t know, I don’t know how you do it. But it’s…nice.”

You’ve seen him die a thousand times.

Mostly in Midoriya’s dreams, sometimes in Eraser’s when he nods off during last period, but that horror—like many others, from that day—stains you all. When dinner is put away and showers are finished and the lights go out and the flood gates open, someone almost always relives the ugliness of it all; you’re more familiar with that moment than you are with any of your own.

Here and now, you close your eyes and see Jirou staring back at you, face beautiful and full of hope. You see Kirishima’s torn suit jacket and the blood on his cheek and the empty gun in his hand, the most dedicated secret agent. Aoyama is dreaming of his mother, something warm that makes you feel like you’re dazzling, too.

And yet—Bakugou is silent. Even right in front of you. Even after everything.

If anyone deserves the peace and quiet, you suppose it ought to be him.

“When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

You blink until his blurry figure is clear, and it’s like you can physically feel whatever energy you had left seeping from your body at the mere mention of sleep. “Maybe a morning or two ago,” you tell him truthfully, “I usually pass out after a few rounds of ‘throwin’ shit around’.”

Bakugou only stares at you as he digests the words, and once he’s gotten them down, he shakes his head before looking out over the mess you’ve made of the training field. With his head turned like this, you can take in the full weight of his scar—the one that’s wide and still baby-pink across his cheek. 

You almost get the guts to tell him he’s handsome. Almost.

Frustration is evident on his face when he looks back at you, but his voice comes out softer than you expect, like he's struggling to get out any words at all. “Can’t keep doin’ this,” he chastises. “Can’t be a Hero if you’re half asleep all the time. Gotta figure this shit out.”

“I am,” you give a lazy wave to your pots, “What’s wrong with this solution?”

“It's ass.”

“Alright, you have any better ideas, pretty boy?”

He bristles, visibly enough to have you snickering, and—you’re not sure what you expect of him; to continue his griping or leave you to your own devices, building his walls up high as he always does. Ever the fighter, ever the protector; maybe it’s a good thing, you tell yourself, because you’re weak like this and one of you needs to be thinking straight.

Despite his flush, there’s a playfulness to his grouchy expression, his raspy tone—and it has you leaning too far into things you don’t know how to name.

You never know what to expect of him.

There’s the slightest brush of skin against the back of your hand, and when you drop your eyes to the slowly-dwindling space between you—the rough pads of his fingers are touching you, gently. Softly enough to be the breeze, if it weren’t so warm.

You’re afraid to look at him, suddenly, like it will break whatever spell the night is casting over both of you; instead you press your lips together to stop their wobbling and the smile fighting to give you away. You’re waiting for that sea-shore calm, that quiet comfort, whatever it is he’s trying to offer you, strangely enough, in this moment. When you turn your hand over to catch his, the air buzzes again and the blood rushes in your ears.

You focus and—all you can see is your own face staring back at you. In a flash, like he’s cycling through his cards in a hurry, trying to find the best one.

You, across the arena during the entrance exam. You, in the locker room before the Sport's Festival. You, sitting in the common room during Christmas. You, ruined with tears and your own blood and covered in grime, on the darkest day of your life.

You, now. On the field in the stale light, prettier than you think you must look, for being so exhausted, the lines of your smile deep as you grin up at him.

—And then there's nothing.

The absence of noise is louder than anything. A stark, white silence that cuts through; a different world trickling away. A single touch and a little focus is all it takes to take root inside someone’s head and that’s always felt like a weapon, but now it feels like coming inside from a snowstorm, relief shuddering down your spine. Everyone else's fears and nerves and heartaches dissolve until they’re only a bitter taste at the back of your throat. Something far, far behind you

There’s just Bakugou. A strong silence that feels impenetrable, invulnerable to the outside. The steady beat of his heart is comforting in a way you didn’t realize it would be, has that bloody, dead-eyed image of him shifting into something else: another moment in Midoriya’s memories, of his silhouette standing in the sun, tall and fierce and alive.

Returned. Here and now with you, after numerous, unforeseen turns of events. You wonder if the ease surrounding you is his own, something else he’s sharing—or if this is just how it feels to be with him after so long. Maybe in the past it was different—you know it was; during the entrance exam, during the Sport’s Festival—but now you feel more relaxed than you ever have. A reminder that, no matter how dark the nights get, the sun is only just beyond the horizon. 

Returned, comforting and quiet.

(You won't know this until much later, but your hand will go slack in Katsuki's and his fingers will tighten around your own because he's not ready to let go yet. When your knees buckle, he'll already be there, awkwardly holding you up against his shoulder as his face flames and his eyes dart around the empty field, checking for any shitty snoops.

Ears is always up damn late, too, and there's a decent chance he'd get caught trying to haul you back to your room on the third fuckin’ floor, so there's really no better option than to gently lower you both to the grass. After a couple of minutes with no movement, the field lights will shut off and only the distant glow of the stars will remain.)

(You won't know this until much later, but Katsuki will arrange the both of you so that your head isn't slumped on the hard ground, but resting on the plush of his bicep, an arm around your shoulders so that the warmth can be shared between you both. His heart will pound hard enough in his chest to be worrisome, and every time you shuffle and scoot closer to him and nudge your nose into his sweater—Katsuki will fight to stay open and true, only honest with you in this wordless way.)

(You won't know this until the sun rises high behind your lids and your bones ache and he’s shown you things he could never say, but it's the best sleep you think you've ever gotten. With him, under the stars, surrounded by his calm and his constant.)

(You won't remember this but in your dream—your real dream, born from with solace Katsuki offers you—the morning will rise and settle in and he'll walk you back to your room despite the stares and in the elevator when you're alone, his lips will touch yours and you'll feel his  heart in your chest and his nerves in your stomach and his fear and relief all in one.)

(And right away, when you wake up, you'll finally have a name for this thing that's been blooming between you both for as long as you can remember—and he will, too.)

[bonchobrick]

(angst alert !! death + slight blood tw !!)

Tim is stuck in a sticky situation and has to call a certain 'spooky' friend for help.

Jason would probably call him a dumbass for trying to do something so stupid. Well, atleast thats what Tim thinks Jason would do, he isn't for sure though, he isn't certain.

Because Jason's laying on the ground with a flat pulse and he wont be giving him any answers anytime soon.

---

“Don' look so weird replacement, its just anoth’r day in gotham.” His brother slurs with the slight quirk of his lips

"Jason don't fucking do this to me!" Tim hisses tears cursing his eyes

And Jason, oh that bastard—bleeding out on the pavement and in Tim’s arms sends him his classic beaming Robin Smile. 

"Love ya' little bro take care of yo'rself, kay?" he says eyes fluttering

"Jay," Tim cries, "You dick."

For all the joy and hope and belief his smile conveyed for the first time in a long time—his red blood muddled what should’ve been such a nice sight. Tim held him on the pavement with someone yelling on the comm mic on the floor that he just can’t bother trying to pay attention to. 

The pavement is cold. The air is cold. His brother is cold. It’s all so cold tonight. 

All the younger boy does close his eyes and slowly, In. Out. In. Out.

He lets himself breathe for a minute. Lets the horror wash over him. Lets himself absorb what just happened,

Then he gets back to work. 

Like a switch his brain is back online running at a hundred miles an hour–what is the best scenario, what should I do when my brother's wrist is limp and his eyes are shut, what do I do if he’s dead again, what can i do, how can I Fix. This.

Thoughts cloud his mind, whirring around his head like layers and layers of messy documents has just been dumped on his desk and he’s shuffling through them panicked trying to find the right file because its somewhere here, there is something and he just needs to sort. it. out. And–

Then it all becomes clear. 

His desk is back to clean and stationary. All of the papers are gone back into neat piles in neat manila folders, stored away in tidy filing shelves–

Everything is gone aside from one little yellow sticky note in the center of the desk.

“Well, Jay?” Tim chuckles with a cracked voice, “Second times the charm right?”

In his mind, at the center of it all, on a yellow sticky note lies the words in green ink: ‘Contact The Ghost King.’

Slowly he shifts and with a loud grunt he lifts up Jason, “Up we go!”

“--im? Why do you have Red Hood’s Comm–Tim what happened! Tim!” the comm speaker plays faintly in the background of his head, “Tim! Whatever you’re thinking off doing, don’t!” someone Tim can’t think about hisses

Tim hums absentmindedly towards the mic, almost automatically, “Don’t worry Babs, I’ve got it covered.”

Walking away from the roof he thinks to himself, I wonder where Jason would wanna wake up? Perhaps his apartment? Yea, i think that would go well by him–let’s head to the apartment.  

And just like that Tim leaves a crime scene—shuffling away with a dead body over his shoulder and a plan.

“Jay,” Tim murmurs to the corpse on his shoulder, “You’re really gonna hate this, but i’m doing this for you anyways cause I love you. So dont be too hard on me when you wake up okay asshole?”

Tim stumbles off into the stairwell making his descent and sometime as he walks away Barbara faintly catches him on the comm saying

“-Your gonna love Danny and making your lame 'im a dead guy' jokes with him man .”

[cyberhades]

Movie Night ੈ♡˳ Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Summary: Y/N and Eddie decided to watch a horror movie together, but many things can happen under the sheets.

Warnings: smut, protected sex, fingering (female receiving), overstimulation, cute sex.

A/N: thanks to my amazing bestie @eddiemunsons-girl for helping me to develop that plot, i love youuuuu <3

ANOTHER FRIDAY 13 ARRIVES and with that the atmosphere was propitious for a good horror movie, a great classic that caused chills in everyone. One of the best movies ever made was on the shelves of the video store that disappeared at the speed of light, everyone was apparently wanting to watch this memorable date.

Nothing better than watching this masterpiece with your best friend, Eddie Munson! You two were always horror movie fanatics, the difference is that he wasn't as scared as you, so he was in charge of hugging you and calming you down by telling jokes.

He was a good friend, he had nothing to complain about. On the one hand, you had fun getting scared and he had fun watching you getting scared. In the end, you both had fun.

Now during the night the metalhead arrived at your house, you would be alone all night. Your mother was a nurse and would be responsible for the night shift at the hospital. Eddie had brought a lot of the things you liked to eat, all the goodies he knew the ones you loved like the back of his hand.

He was a respectful best friend.

— Are you ready to not sleep well tonight, Miss Y/N? — he gave an idiotic laugh.

— Fuck you, Munson — you laughed back, giving him the middle finger.

Blankets, chocolate, popcorn, cookies, gummy bears, soda, and comfy pillows made that couch a thousand times better than a movie theater. Not just for the atmosphere, but for Eddie as well. He always knew how to make the place where he was, he never went unnoticed and he was always making his presence felt.

The film's suspense and dramatic atmosphere along with the chilling soundtrack made every hair on your body tingle with tension, you were always ready to see Jason Voorhees making yet another victim in Crystal Lake. There were always dumb victims too who went straight to their deaths, and at that time you and Eddie complained and cursed the characters like crazy.

And everything was great, until there was a time when a sex scene came. It wasn't weird to watch a sex scene in a movie, but to watch a sex scene in a movie with anyone on your side it's weird as fuck. You had your head resting on Eddie's chest as you watched and you noticed that his heart rate increased.

Being so close to his body, it was impossible not to notice that he had a huge erection in his pants. He got restless, and you were getting horny too.

— P-Princess... I need to go to the bathroom... — his voice was even heavier, as if he was starting to get breathless and nervous.

— If you go, I go too.

— Are you afraid Jason will kill you? — he joked.

— In fact I know what you're going to do in the bathroom... — you said shyly as you lowered your head, you couldn't look at him anymore without feeling embarrassed. — And I think I need to do the same thing...

You didn't think much before speaking because you knew your brain would stop you, so you just spoke without delay and shut up right away. The two of you didn't speak for nearly fifteen seconds, but the silence seemed to scream.

Soon, the TV was turned off by Eddie who had taken the remote beside him. Then he grabbed your waist and brought you to his lap.

You let out a little cry of surprise when you felt your pussy right above his erection. In return he smiled, an attentive and malicious smile at the same time.

— What are you doing? — your voice cracked a little as you were still trying to take back the air that was missing from your lungs from nervousness.

— Helping you with this little problem we both have — he whispered, overcome with desire.

You immediately kissed him. You've wanted to do this for a long time actually and that was an excellent excuse, a great opportunity that life gave you.

Eddie kissed you back immediately, taking one hand to your hair, tugging lightly while the other squeezed your waist with desire. The way he kissed you was voracious and there he was making it very clear that it was ambiguous that the two of you wanted to feel each other's lips for a long time.

Your hands were on his neck, running the tips of your nails subtly along the back of his neck, making him shiver and making him moan against your mouth. Obviously he wasn't going to let it go unpunished and he gripped your waist more tightly as he pressed down, making your soaking pussy rub against his hard cock.

You moaned against his mouth to feel his erection. He was nothing small apparently and you already found yourself throbbing and craving for more and more. So much so that it hurt.

His hands slid down your back until they reached your ass which was covered by the dress you wore. He slid the fabric through his fingers, lifting until your ass was uncovered. His nimble fingers found the hem of your panties, curling and tugging at the elastic with a small snap as it found your skin.

— Fuck! — you cried out as you felt the snap against your soft flesh.

He bit his bottom lip intoxicated with lust. Feeling your body pressed against his was better than he'd ever imagined.

Then he laid you down on the couch positioning himself between your legs, and making you squeeze him with your thighs, bringing him closer. Nimble fingers found the fabric of your dress, pulling it out of your body through your arms.

When he saw your breasts he went crazy and was practically salivating. His kisses went down to your neck, and he licked and sucked leaving light hickeys.

On the other hand, his hands that were on your waist dispersed. One went up to your thigh and the other was busy making it way to your sodden panties. When you felt Eddie's fingers inside your panties you moaned slyly.

Everything there was in a good mix. His kisses and hickeys on your neck mixed with his grip on your thigh and his fingers on your swollen clit had you stunned. First he started to masturbate you, making circular motions on your delicate point of pleasure.

— Oh my good... — you whimpered.

Your legs were already starting to shake slightly. You felt that he was being precise in what he was doing, his fingers were driving you to delirium.

The moans of the two of you were taking over that atmosphere. His moans against your skin were fierce and your moans were shy and sly. You couldn't explain why, but being completely naked beneath him while he was fully clothed felt strangely good.

His fingers, which were now on your clit, slipped inside, penetrating without warning. Making you scream once more with lust and desire as you feel him inside you, going back and forth with two fingers.

He was skilled. Even more skilled than you imagined and he was being amazing, much better than in your dreams.

— E-Eddie... I'm gonna cum... — you cried out in pleasure while you pushed your hips towards his fingers for more friction.

— Cum on my fingers, princess — he said in a fierce tone as he sucked your breasts voraciously.

And it didn't take long for you to feel yourself melting in his fingers, as you held him tight. At the same moment he removed his fingers from your pussy and brought them to his mouth, sucking in a fierce way that even growled slightly.

He got up and started to take off his clothes. By God, Eddie really was perfect. You didn't know whether to pay more attention to his smooth skin or in the trail of hair that ran down his belly button to his pubs.

He returned to the couch and slid his fingers down your waist until they found the hem of your panties and pulled it down your legs. You could not help but notice that he had a condom tucked into the denim jacket he'd taken off so he could use it.

You looked forward to what would come next. And seeing him "getting dressed" only turned you on more.

— How do you want?

You immediately spread your legs, giving him a privileged view of your pussy that was dripping with desire and lust. He practically growled once more.

You made a "come here" sign with your hand, making him come back to the couch and lie on top of you, making the tip of his cock brush against your entrance, making you push your hips for more contact, and he penetrated a little.

He gripped your thighs eagerly, squeezing the flesh.

— But what a hasty princess you are... — he said through gritted teeth with a mischievous smile on his face as he moved his hips deeper into you.

You felt his cock inside you, making you moan and squeeze his back and bite your bottom lip. He groaned in return.

— Damn... so tight... — he said against your neck, his hot breath against your skin.

Eddie's movements started to take on a good pace that made you moan like crazy and feel extremely satisfied and happy at the same time. You've wanted this for a long time.

— Y-You're so big... holy shit! — you cursed feeling it coming and going inside you.

Your pussy was already more sensitive from the masturbation he had given you with those skilled fingers from years of playing guitar. It was impossible to take his cock not only because of his size, but also because of your sensitivity.

Eddie's moans had you delirious, along with the sound of your hips colliding. The way he squinted his eyes tightly and threw his head back left you wanting more and more.

This was better than any dream.

It didn't take long and you were feeling a knot form in your belly, soon it would burst. His cock hit your sensitive spot over and over again in a delicious, perfect pace. He was in pure delight at the way you moaned and squirmed beneath him.

— I'm going to come again, I'm going to come again! — you screamed desperately, feeling your walls squeeze him.

— Come on my cock, princess — he said, bringing a hand to your clit, masturbating that swollen, sensitive spot of pleasure.

You practically sighed to contain the urge to scream that you were feeling and so you continued at that pace until you had one more orgasm.

— Thank you so much... oh fuck! — you moaned, feeling your legs shake and your back arch.

— I'm going to come, I'm going to come... thanks to that tight pussy... oh princess... holy fuck!

He said in a husky voice as he filled the latex of the condom with his hot cum. The way he pushed his head back made you want to cross your legs.

Now you were lying on the couch, covered by the blanket. He'd discarded the condom in the trash, it was worth every second of all that madness. You were lying on his chest while he stroked your shoulder and kissed your forehead.

— This was the best Friday 13 of my life! — you said with a silly smile on your lips.

— Mine too. Thank you, princess — he left a gentle kiss on your lips.

— But... what are we to each other now?

— More than friends I'm sure — he smiled cutely with slightly flushed cheeks.

[...]

[whatwouldsylwrite]

hockey!Abby x dancer!reader pt7

pt 6

to: Abby

Do you want to come over tonight?

Minors don't interact!!!! This is an adult work meant for adults, I'm really uncomfortable with anyone younger than 18 reading this, so please move on.

Tags: modern au, fluff, fem!reader, shy reader, reader is into sexy/girly dances, Abby is a sweetheart, switching pov. Smut. Oral (r! receiving, Abby!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), pet names, vanilla sex

Notes: this is their first time, so there's no kinks yet, they're just exploring and getting to know each other, so it's pretty vanilla. I actually wanted to include a lot more, but this chapter is so long I had to cut some parts out. :(

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It was a Friday night, your tv was buzzing with some reality show as you were doing your homework, not paying any attention to the tv - you really wanted to finish the whole load before tomorrow, because your weekend was fully booked by Abby. 

So you worked through every assignment without any breaks for a few hours, until your head started to hurt - not the smartest decision, you admit, but you really just wanted to finish your homework and then just chill for the rest of the evening, letting your brain shut down on some ridiculous show. 

"Fuck." You sighed as you looked through the last assignment. Thank god it wasn't as time consuming as some of them were. 

It took you another half an hour to finish it, and when you looked at the time, it was over seven. Your head hurt, your stomach was screaming for anything sweet, and you really wanted a shower, as if the water would wash away your irritation and tiredness.

But it was worth it - you'd have your weekend free, a whole weekend with Abby, without practice and homework, without any worries and stupid responsibilities. Sometimes you missed being a teen, when you didn't have to take care of everything. "The real horror of adulthood - decide what you want for dinner every fucking day", you thought as you remembered the tweet you saw some time ago. 

Abby took her skates off, feeling tired and irritated - Eric was so fucking annoying with his training and useless comments, picking on everyone like as if he wanted the whole team to kick his ass. Boys were grumpy as well, bitching all the time while they changed, but Abby didn't pay attention to them until Manny sat next to her.

"You wanna go out tonight? I need to get wasted to forget about this asshole." Manny nodded in the general direction of the coach room. 

"No, I'm going home." Abby said shortly as she checked her dms. 

You sent a photo of yourself looking absolutely done with your homework, your hair a mess, your brows stubbornly furrowed. Manny immediately put his nose in Abby's phone as she sat there, just smiling at your picture. 

"Ooh, so that's (y/n) in her natural habitat." Manny smirked, knowing he'd get a reaction out of Abby. 

"Fuck off." Abby said and put her phone away from him. 

"What, don't want to show your sweetheart to your best bro?" 

"I swear to god, Manny." Abby rolled her eyes. "Go to your weather girl and leave my girlfriend alone."

"And not tease you? Sorry Abs, not happening." Manny laughed as he ducked Abby's pads she threw in his face. "Have a nice evening!"

"Fuck you too!" Abby shouted in response as she packed her things and went home. 

You left your shower feeling a lot better than before. Chocolate probably helped too, but it wasn't real food, and you needed to cook something before you'd give up and just not eat anything. 

You went to your room to change, and while you were changing you listened to how quiet your apartment was. It was the eerie silence of living by yourself, the constant reminder of lonely independence. It took you a long time to get used to the quiet, but sometimes you'd feel so fucking lonely, curled up in front of your tv, the darkness of the apartment surrounding you, trying to choke you out of the existence. 

You knew Abby had practice today - you looked at the clock - she should have finished already. She was probably tired, though. You worried your lip as you sat on your bed, naked, the water dripping from your hair to your back, giving you an unpleasant shudder, and opened your dms. 

Abby already saw the picture you've sent her during the most frustrating part of your homework.

from: Abby

looks like your hw kicked your ass

Fuck you, you laughed in your head as you typed your reply.

to: Abby

*I* kicked its ass, because I finished it

You tapped your fingers on your phone case, nervous. You really wanted to see Abby, but you also didn’t want to impose. She was tired after practice, and she’d have to drive to your place… But you could just relax together, watch something, you’d make some food for her. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right? She could just say no and it’d be totally fine. 

to: Abby

Do you want to come over tonight?

Why, why did your heart pick up its pace? Why did you suddenly feel so nervous? You just asked Abby if she’d like to come to your place, it was normal, it was fine, you were dating, for god’s sake. Abby’s been to your place before, and you just cleaned your apartment, you shouldn’t be worried about it at all. Maybe it was because Abby could say no today? Maybe it was because you meant it as a sleepover? 

You checked your phone - Abby wasn’t online, which disappointed you a little, so you put your phone in your pocket and went to the kitchen to start cooking. You figured you'd cook enough for a few days - especially if Abby'd come tonight, since her hockey training required a lot of energy, and therefore a lot of food. And if Abby wouldn't come then you wouldn't have to worry about your meals for the entire weekend. 

The thought of Abby not coming made you sad, but you scolded yourself for being so selfish and needy - Abby was your girlfriend, not your mom to fix all your problems. You still reached for your phone anyway - still no answer. 

"Okay." You sighed, nervous, knowing you needed a distraction as your patience was running thin. You took all ingredients you needed and started to cook, getting your mind off "did she answer" loop in your head.  

Abby went out of the shower and fell on her bed, feeling pleasantly tired. She wasn't exhausted physically, but dealing with Eric's shit left her low-key irritated. Some days he was just insufferable and Abby wished the poor asshole just got laid and maybe that'd calm him down. 

Abby sighed and closed her eyes, trying to calm down herself. She needed to think about something pleasant - her weekend plans with you for example. Abby missed you, not seeing you properly the whole week - you caught each other every chance you got, and spent too much time in her car after practice, you not wanting to go home and Abby not wanting to let you go. 

And now the whole weekend would be for the two of you. You asked Abby if she really wanted to do rock climbing, but she had to admit she was afraid of heights - it was embarrassing, she knew, but you just nodded and said you'd keep it in mind, to Abby's relief. You asked her for another skating lesson and Abby agreed, happy she'd get to hold you in her arms again - that was your plan for Sunday evening. And tomorrow Abby wanted to take you on a day trip to the next town and just walk around, find some interesting places. 

Abby smiled and rubbed her face, slightly embarrassed by how bad she had it. She knew she was a lovesick idiot, but sometimes it was hard to embrace it. 

Abby sat up on the bed and reached for her phone that she left in her backpack. 

from: dancing queen

Do you want to come over? (sent 40 minutes ago)

Abby's heart stopped but started beating twice as fast right away, her cheeks flushed. Was it what she thought it was?

No, knowing how shy you were - no way you asked this question with any subtle meaning. But Abby couldn't help but feel a little optimistic. It was evening, you definitely asked her to stay the night, and she just couldn't ignore her annoying thoughts. 

You sent it 40 minutes ago - was it when Abby parked her car? She should have seen it if it was sent before, god, was she in a shower for 40 minutes? No she wasn't, she unpacked her gym bag first and put her uniform in the washing machine. 

Was your offer still up? Or maybe you changed your mind? Got tired of waiting for her response? 

That was asking for some serious measures, and Abby pressed call, not taking a chance with texting in case you wouldn't see her messages. You picked up after four antagonising dial tones and Abby started feeling nervous. 

"Hi." You said, sounding like you were busy. "Wait, gimme a sec." 

"Okay." Abby said as she listened to you turning water on and off. "You okay?"

"Yeah." You said, panting a little. Abby got worried she blew her chance - you were definitely not free right now. Why the fuck she didn't check her phone before going to the shower? "Okay, I'm here."

"Is your offer still up? For me to come over?" Abby asked, ridiculously nervous.

"Yeah." You said shyly. "You don't have to, I know you just finished your practice and you're tired, I don't want to-"

"I'll at yours in 20." Abby interrupted you, too eager to calm you down. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah. See you." She said to you quietly. 

"See you." 

Abby ended the call and ran her hand through her hair, calming herself. Okay, you were still up for it. Abby tried to push her stupid horny thoughts down, but you asking her to come over on Friday night was like a pavlovian for her. You didn't mean it, but Abby would kill for you to mean it. 

Abby eyed her other backpack, feeling optimistic again. She emptied her bed drawer into her backpack, you know, just in case. Never in her life Abby got ready faster than now - in 10 minutes she was locking her door, her hair half-dry and brushed, her clothes clean and her backpack filled with a change of clothes and other stuff. The ride to your apartment took her a little bit longer than ten minutes and she was five minutes later than she promised, but it didn't matter.

What mattered was her ringing the bell to your apartment. 

You opened the door and immediately smiled at Abby, your eyes twinkling with happiness. 

"Hi." You stared at her for a second and then moved out of the way. "Come in."

Abby put her backpack down and finally looked at you, regretting it immediately: you were wearing skintight top and Abby could see fucking everything, because you weren't wearing a bra. Oh fuck, she thought as she tried to look away from your chest. And these stupid short shorts you wore at home, Abby was going to die here.

 

"Are you hungry?" You asked, unconsciously moving closer to Abby, taking her hand in yours. She looked flushed, but you didn't mind. You also didn't mind her eyes flicking to your chest - her stare sent shivers down your spine, making you want to arch into Abby. "I've made some food."

"Starving." Abby chuckled and pulled you to her, kissing you. It was a gentle kiss, her hands a soft pressure on your waist, and you melted against her, letting her hold your weight. "Missed you."

"Me too. Felt lonely without you." You admitted, a little embarrassed of your weakness. You caressed Abby's shoulders, marvelled by her strength as she held you close. "Are you going to stay for the night?"

"If you let me." Abby shrugged playfully. 

"If I let you." You teased her. "You're the one who should be letting me beg you to stay, you know." You pinched her cheek gently and led Abby to the kitchen. 

Abby let go of your hand and just towered behind you, her chest to your back, her hands on your hips, as you put food on two plates. You swallowed as your desire to just arch back into Abby became too powerful and you tentatively pushed back, trying to not turn this moment into something more heated. Abby sighed into your neck and her grip on your hips became stronger. 

"What do you want to watch?" You asked, cosily quiet. 

Abby buried her nose in your neck, making you giggle from tickling. 

"The one we spoke about a week ago." Abby said not lifting her head from your shoulder. 

"Okay." You smile to yourself. "Come on, let's move." 

Abby slowly moved away and took a plate you gave her, pouting a little: she really didn't want to let you go. 

You went to the living room and while you two tried to find a more comfortable way to sit, you searched up the movie - it was a french comedy someone recommended to Abby, and you've seen the trailer and liked it. It took some time to find it, but you put it on and you both started eating while the introduction rolled. You secretly hoped Abby'd like your cooking - like if you were showing her what a wife material you could be. And, judging by her little moan and her head thrown back - she liked it. You hid your smile, but Abby noticed anyway.

"I'm marrying you tomorrow, (y/n)." Abby said as she put a fork in her mouth. "What did you put in it? Magic?"

"Garlic and ginger." You giggled. 

You finished your food pretty quickly, both of you were too hungry to go slow, and you went to the kitchen to put your plates in the sink. You poured two cups of tea and came back, to find Abby in a different position than before.

She was sitting in the middle of the couch, manspreading, and when she saw you, she patted the place between her legs, inviting you to sit there. You smiled and put your cups next to Abby so you could reach them, and sat between her legs. 

Abby immediately snaked her hands around your waist, pulling you closer without any effort and your breath hitched in your throat: Abby held you close to herself, pressing your back to her chest, her chin on your shoulder, her strong thighs on both sides of you. You felt safe like this, surrounded by Abby, and you leaned on her, relaxing and putting your head on her shoulder, breathing her in. Abby always smelled like something cold and soothing - maybe because she spent a lot of time on ice, but her scent always reminded you of the first days of spring when snow started to melt. 

The movie was good, Abby had to admit, but having you in your arms was better. Abby liked how you relaxed right away, letting her touch you everywhere she wanted, caressing your waist and your ribs and your thighs absentmindedly as she watched the movie. And the way you shook against her when you laughed - adorable. Abby pressed a few affectionate kisses to your shoulder, just appreciating your existence, and you relaxed even more, your weight pleasantly heavy on her. 

Abby liked this reaction, so she pressed more kisses into your bare shoulder - you went soft in her arms and Abby just couldn’t get enough of it, making you feel safe was her fucking drug. She moved her lips up, planting slow tender kisses on your neck, not really trying to work you up, just enjoying being gentle with you, but you sighed sharply as Abby kissed you pulse point, her lips lingering on your skin for a second. This little sound made Abby’s eyes open wide and her core throb - maybe she wasn’t trying to work you up, but you were definitely getting there. 

Abby lifted her head from your shoulder and looked you in the eyes, checking if you were enjoying yourself as you turned to her. Her serious, studying eyes met your glossy ones, and something snapped. 

You reached for Abby’s face desperately and kissed her, your whole body trembling as you weaved your fingers into her hair. Abby deepened the kiss, her tongue slowly playing with your tongue as she lifted you up and turned you so you’d sit in her lap. You whimpered quietly - the ease with which Abby moved you made your underwear hot with sudden wetness. Abby kissed you wet and dirty, her hands moving up your naked thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake, until she reached your butt and grabbed it  hard, her nails slightly digging into your body. You sighed into her mouth and caressed her neck and broad shoulders, so solid against you. 

You pulled away, trying to catch your breath, and Abby watched you with a small smile. Horny looked good on you.

“That’s not why I asked to come over.” You whispered. You didn’t want Abby to feel pressured into anything, to think you only invited her to stay the night because you wanted to have sex. 

“I know.” Abby whispered with a small smile as her hands held your waist. She knew what you were trying to say, and her heart overflowed with affection. “Do you want to stop?” 

You smiled and shook your head, stroking Abby’s nape gently.

“Words, baby.” Abby grinned as she watched your eyes go big with surprise when she used the pet name. “I need you to say it.”

Consent was important for Abby, especially since she could easily overpower you. She needed to hear that you wanted this, to have this confirmation. She couldn’t imagine doing something that would upset you because she read your non-verbals wrong. 

“Want you, Abby, I want you.” You whispered, not looking at Abby - too embarrassed to admit your desire so blatantly.  But if Abby needed to hear it, it didn’t matter if you were embarrassed - her comfort was your top priority. Abby tilted your face, trying to make you look at her.

“You’re nervous.” Abby stated when she noticed how you fidgeted with her hoodie. She didn’t like it - she wanted you to feel happy and relaxed with her.

“A little.” You admitted and smiled, giggling when Abby tried to catch your eyes, turning her head at all angles possible.

“Am I scaring you?” Abby asked playfully and stroked your back.

“Big bad Abby.” You laughed. “No. Just want to do it right.”

“I don’t think there is a wrong way, (y/n).” Abby kissed your jaw. “Really, if you want to stop, it’s totally cool.”

Now Abby looked at you, serious, as she searched your face for any sign of discomfort, so tuned to your body she could tell if you were even slightly tense, but you smiled and kissed her gently.

“You’re so sweet.” You said and moved away, creating a distance between the two of you. Abby tried not to read it as a sign you wanted to stop, but as the distance grew bigger, she became more sure that this was it. “Let’s move it to the bedroom.” 

Abby blinked and smiled brightly when the meaning of your words finally caught up with her. Abby kissed you again, her hands roaming your body, squeezing you painfully. Abby grabbed your thighs and suddenly you were in the air, clinging to Abby for dear life. 

"Fuck." You said, a little bit shocked as Abby hoisted you up, her lower stomach pressing just right between your legs. "Warn me next time." You laughed and snaked your hands around Abby's neck. 

Abby smirked and kissed your collarbones, making your hole clench on nothing - you were getting so wet, too wet, and nothing really happened yet. 

"Abby." You inhaled sharply, your fingers squeezing her shoulders.

"Yeah?"

"Bedroom."

Abby chuckled against your neck and carried you to the bedroom while her hands continued kneading your butt. You were so fucking soft in her arms, it was so easy to carry you Abby felt drunk on how much stronger she was, how effortlessly she could just move you and hold you and not let you do anything, leaving everything to her. 

Abby lowered you down on the bed and you pulled her with you, making her press you into the bed as you kissed her. You spread your legs further, making Abby press into you as her hand caressed your thigh lightly, admiring how soft and warm you were. 

Abby broke the kiss and sat between your legs and this view alone made you ache, made it hard to breathe. She looked serious, her strong hands crawling up your thighs, her wide shoulders moving up and down as she breathed heavily. You sat up and tugged her hoodie up, literally not able to take it anymore, you needed to see her. The hoodie came off, leaving Abby in her sports bra, her muscles, her strength on display.

"Oh my fucking god." You whispered, mesmerised. "Fuck, Abby." You ran your fingers over Abby's abs and  she flexed her muscles instinctively, causing the wetness pool in your panties, the pressure building behind your clit. You looked at her with wide eyes as you got closer to feel her skin under your lips. 

You left open mouthed kisses on Abby's side, holding her hips. She was warm and solid and she tasted just as she smelled - cold and mouthwatering. You couldn't get enough, your hands travelled lower and you groaned - Abby had a V line, fucking hell. 

Abby watched you worship her body and her breathing became heavy, her hunger growing with each second and her boxers getting wetter after every kiss - your soft mouth drove her crazy, your genuine admiration getting to her heart dangerously close. Abby knew girls enjoyed her physique,  but there was something different about your reaction - you were gentle with her, smoothing her edges in a way that scared her, but left wanting more. Abby needed you to cum, to feel good, to come apart in her hands again and again until you couldn't anymore. 

"Doll, look at me." Abby panted and gently lifted your head. You looked up at her, your eyes shining and your cheeks flushed. "Fuck, you're so pretty." Abby kissed you, hungry and getting a little rough from her desperation, but you didn't mind, clinging to her with your whole body. "Can I take it off?" 

"Yeah." You whispered, exhilarated when Abby's fingers hooked the bottom of your top. She was slow, as if she was opening a present she wanted her whole life and now couldn't believe she had it, and you suddenly felt impatient from your own excitement, buzzing with arousal.

The top came off and Abby stared at you, unblinking. You were so goddamn beautiful: your cute shoulders, the soft line of your neck, your round pretty tits with hardened nipples, the delicate line of your waist - Abby wanted to devour you. You looked divine, you looked holy to her and she wasn't sure she should be allowed to touch you. 

"Lie down." Abby told you and you leaned back, spreading your legs so Abby'd fit between them. "Fuck." Abby said as she watched you, lying on your pillows all pretty and inviting. 

Abby's hands were fucking shaking as she leaned to you, your naked stomachs touching. You sighed and bucked your hips up without thinking, just craving Abby's touch - skin on skin contact wasn't enough, you needed her strong gentle hands on you. Abby used one of her hands to push your hips down, stopping you from moving completely and you whimpered, bucking your hips again, now because her strength turned you on even more, but Abby didn't let you, pressing you back even harder, and you shuddered. 

"Do you need something, doll?" Abby asked as she kissed your neck, grinding a little against you. You suddenly relaxed under her and spread your legs wider, your brows furrowed as Abby's lower stomach pressed into your pussy. "Tell me." 

"Are you teasing me?" You asked as you swallowed a quiet moan.

"I'm asking." Abby breathed in your skin, addicted to your scent: you smelled like warmness and home to her. She licked a long strip on your neck, from your collarbones to your ear and smirked when you made a little mewling sound in her ear. She was genuinely asking, but she couldn't help but tease you a little.

"Can you touch me?" You asked shyly, not even meaning touching your pussy - you'd get there eventually - you just wanted her hands on you. "Like-" You swallowed and stroked her sides. "Like that?" 

Abby melted.

She nodded and squeezed your sides, spreading her fingers over your waist and hips, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the solid firm pressure from Abby’s hands.

"Like that?" 

"Yeah." 

Abby kissed you and moved down, putting her mouth over your nipple, swirling her tongue around your bud. You arched into her, choking on air, your body like a naked wire, but she held you down again. Abby looked at you, stupidly turned on from your reactions.

"You're sensitive." Abby stated in amazement and smiled, so fucking pleased with this fact about you. 

You didn't have time to even think what to say to Abby as she sucked on your nipple and grinded on you, watching your reaction with hunger: she saw it once and nothing would tear her away from you now. You whimpered, your nails digging in Abby's shoulders as she continued playing with your nipples: her tongue on one nipple and her fingers on the other as she pressed her body flush against your pussy.  You felt how wet you got, soaking through your underwear - you probably had a wet spot on your shorts now - but you didn't care as long as you had Abby's hands and mouth on you. 

Abby moved back to your face, admiring you, all flushed and panting. You smiled at Abby and pulled her into the kiss, barely maintaining it as you couldn't stop smiling. 

Abby touched the waistband of your shorts and looked at you, serious again. 

"I'm going to take them off." Abby said, waiting for your confirmation. 

"Good idea." You giggled and watched Abby undress you completely. She took your underwear with your shorts, not wasting any time. 

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." Abby said tenderly, her gaze making you blush as she looked you over. "What do you like?"

"I-uh." You tried to get your thoughts together. "Anything?"

Abby nodded and spread your legs with her hand, caressing your thighs in the process. You shivered when you felt cool air on your wet hole and you covered your face, a little embarrassed when you noticed how intensely Abby was staring between your legs.

Abby felt her mouth water when she saw how wet you were, the desire to make you feel good overpowering her. You were so responsive it made her want to touch you even more, but your shyness melted her heart. 

"Hey, don't be shy." Abby chuckled as she caressed your pelvis lightly. "You're so pretty." 

"Fuck you." You laughed affectionately and moved your hand from your face to look at Abby, who was grinning at you. 

And then Abby moved down, leaving lingering kisses on your stomach until she was right in front of your pussy, her shoulders keeping your legs apart. Abby snaked her hands around your thighs, locking you in one position, and you caught your breath, just staring at her. You couldn't move, her grip on you was unyielding. 

Abby kissed your thighs gently, making you relax again: this feeling was so fucking addicting, just watching you visibly unbend and just accept what was happening - it pressed Abby's buttons in ways that her mind got even filthier, imagining if you could let go completely and let her do whatever she wanted with you. 

Abby pressed on your thighs, spreading them even wider to open you up for her, all pretty, wet and hot. Abby smirked and licked you from your hole all the way up to your clit, the tip of Abby's tongue making you twitch in her hands from sudden painful pleasure. Too much, Abby thought and relaxed her tongue on your clit, circling it softly. She watched your breath hitch and eyes flutter, the soft, quiet sounds leaving your lips as she played with your clit. You were so wet and tasted so fucking good Abby didn't want to leave your thighs ever again. 

Abby's mouth felt so good on you, you couldn't even think as she sucked on your clit, making you fucking jump in her arms, but she held you down without breaking her movements and doubled her efforts, sucking and licking and swirling her tongue until your heavy breathing turned into loud moans. 

"Abby, fuck-" You managed to say between your high whines. "Jesus-" 

But Abby ignored you, keeping her pace steady on your clit, her chin covered in your slick. She felt how twitchy you got, and she smirked knowing you were close, so she sped up just a little, cautious not to overwhelm you and break the spell before you'd cum for her.

Abby's tongue was pulling you down and down and down, drowning you in syrupy pleasure, building you up to the inevitable as your thighs started to shake and your voice became high pitched, your moans broken and choked. You grabbed Abby's forearm as you felt your orgasm approaching.

"Fuck- ohmygod- abby- Abby!" You screamed, oh god Abby made you fucking scream and she wasn’t stopping, she wasn’t stopping, her tongue lightly moving up and down your pussy, collecting your wetness as she licked you clean. It made you blush and you covered your face again as you tried to get your body under control.

The hold on your thighs eased up and Abby kissed your stomach, her tongue hot on your skin. She took her time, worshipping you as she placed soft kisses on your body: you were so soft and delicate she couldn’t believe she actually got to touch you. Abby moved up and gently moved your arm away from your face.

“Hey.” Abby said as she smiled at you, so tender it was almost unbearable. You looked so good, still twitching after your first orgasm, and Abby looked into your eyes, trying to remember every little line and every blush and how your breathing wasn’t evened out yet, but you were smiling back at her.

“Hi.” You giggled and put your trembling fingers on Abby’s neck. You looked at each other and broke into happy giggles. “Gimme a sec, I need my body to stop shaking and then it’s your turn.”

“That good, huh?” Abby smirked and you blushed. “Actually. Do you think you can go again?” Abby asked, her hand moving down to your hip, tracing circles on your hip bones. 

"Yeah." You nodded, a little confused, and then Abby's hand moved further down. "Oh, you mean now." You giggled at your own obliviousness.

"Yeah." Abby whispered as she watched you, her hunger back. "Wanna see you cum again, you're so fucking beautiful."

You looked at Abby with wide eyes and kissed her desperately, her words messing with your heart, turning you into butter. 

Abby pulled away, wanting to see your face when she'd push inside you. She moved her fingers through your folds, so gentle and careful, and you felt one finger circling your hole. You shuddered in anticipation, looking back at Abby, her pupils so dilated she almost lost all blue in her eyes. And then she pushed her finger inside and you couldn't even make a sound. You were still tight and wet after your last orgasm, and Abby's finger felt amazing as she slowly stroked your walls.

"Fuck, (y/n)." Abby whispered and kissed your neck, sucking a hickey into your skin. 

She wanted to be careful with you, to keep you relaxed until your pleasure would build up enough for you to start making these pretty high noises. Abby curled up her finger, looking for your sweet spot, and suddenly your thighs closed on her arm and you whimpered. 

"There you go." Abby smiled, enjoying you. She eased up a little, giving you a chance to exhale. "Breathe, baby.” She chuckled when she noticed you held your breath. 

You inhaled sharply and your thighs relaxed, not locking Abby’s arm anymore.

"Good girl." Abby said affectionately, so pleased with you and you whined, your head suddenly fuzzy.

You looked at Abby: she was so gorgeous, her face calm and her cheeks faintly pink with a bunch of freckles you wanted to kiss, her hair tucked behind her ears - god you loved when her hair was down. You ran your hand from her neck to her waist, adoring all soft warm skin under your fingertips as she thrusted into you, your breathing turning from sighs to moans.

“Do you want another one?” She whispered in your ear, making you shudder, her mouth working another hickey on your pulse point. 

“Yeah.” You gripped Abby’s hair gently and she pressed her mouth harder to your neck. 

Abby pulled her finger out and you felt empty and a little cold, but then you felt two fingers pressing inside. Abby pushed them in slowly, marvelling by how soft and tight you were around her, how you looked at her, your eyes a little foggy while you smiled a little. Abby curled her fingers and you clenched around her, whimpering, and Abby felt her own hole clench in response. Fuck it was hot.

You felt so full, Abby’s fingers pressing everywhere, ripping sounds out of you on each thrust. Your skin was on fire, each nerve trembling as Abby sped up, her fingers pressing against your sweet spot, as absolutely obscene wet sounds joined your whimpers. It took a little longer to bring you over the edge, but Abby didn’t break her relentless pace until you cried out for her, your walls clenching and pulsating around her fingers as you came, shaking so violently Abby had to use her other hand to hold you down as you twitched uncontrollably while coming down from your high. 

Abby watched you, spellbound, as you came on her fingers, your throat bared for her, purple marks blooming everywhere: you were hers, only hers, and you were so beautiful, like a fucking angel.

"There you go, doing so good for me." Abby praised you as she pulled her fingers out slowly, watching your blissed out face.

Suddenly there was pressure on her shoulders as you made her lie back while your trembling fingers went under her sports bra.

“I wanna see you.” You said in a shaky voice, barely standing up, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, sticky with your slick. “Can I go down on you?”

Just hearing these words coming out of your mouth made Abby groan - she wanted to fuck you again, but you looked so desperate and wanting she couldn’t refuse. She really couldn’t say no to you, could she? 

Abby sat up and helped you undress her completely, blushing a little under your hungry eyes. You nestled between Abby’s thighs and tried to just absorb her, your eyes roaming over her body, so fucking powerful and beautiful and perfect. You leaned down to Abby and kissed her neck while your hands ran up from her thighs to her waist. Fuck she was magnificent, firm lines mixed with soft flesh. 

“I wanna fucking inhale you.” You said into the crook of her neck, dizzy with desire. Abby’s breath caught in her throat, her ears ringing and her pussy aching because of your words, that were filled with raw obsession. 

“Holy shit, doll.” Abby sighed and tried to get you to lift your head, but you were already moving down, leaving sweet kisses on Abby’s collarbones and stomach.

You cupped Abby’s tits carefully and she closed her eyes, enjoying your touch. You smiled and took her nipple into your mouth, sucking on it gently, and Abby made this low appreciative noise that went straight to your clit. Abby was much quieter than you, but it only turned you on more, listening to her soft fast breathing as you went down, kissing her abs, her sides, mouthing at her muscles as she flexed, her breath hitching every time you placed a new kiss on her skin. You couldn’t get enough of her: you traced Abby’s v-line with your tongue and then planted open-mouthed kisses on conjunctions of her hips, nuzzling in the dips as Abby spread her thighs wider. 

“Can I ask you for something?” You asked as you moved all the way down, getting comfortable between Abby’s thighs. 

“Yeah.”

“Will you be able to keep still?” You mouthed at her thighs, looking Abby in the eyes. You knew you wouldn't be able to hold her down, but you wanted her to let you do what you needed to do.

Abby was surprised by your request, but it only turned her on - it was nearly impossible not to move in this situation, but you asked her - and your wish was her command.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” You said and buried your face between Abby’s thighs.

Abby twitched but stopped herself from moving, letting you do whatever you want. You opened your mouth and put it over Abby’s pussy, slowly flicking her clit with your tongue. Abby squeezed the pillow behind her and hissed, her orgasm already close: she’s been close since she pushed her fingers inside you. And now Abby had you between her legs and she had to stop herself from moving while your tongue played her like musical instrument and she knew she wouldn’t fucking last. 

“Fuck.” Abby gasped when you gently sucked on her clit, her thighs trembling by the sides of your head. Your mouth felt fucking amazing, and Abby felt her lower stomach tighten, so fucking close. 

Abby tentatively moved her hips up to meet your tongue, bucking up so slightly and so gently - she didn't want to take your control away, but she was almost there. You put your hands on her hip bones and helped her grind against your mouth so tenderly you'd think she was being shy, but Abby moved so precisely you figured that was something she liked, and your heart ached: this powerful woman was so delicate in your arms right now. You met her movements with your soft tongue, flicking her clit until she started to lose her pace. Abby was close, so you gently pressed her hips back to the bed - more accurately, Abby let you press her back to the bed - and sped up, desperate to give Abby her orgasm. 

"Holy fuck." Abby moaned quietly, her voice shaking a little. "Just like that, baby- oh fuck-" She managed to say and in the next second Abby was pulled under as her body exploded, the long groan ripping from her lungs, her hands clutching the pillow so hard she might have torn the fabric. 

You watched Abby obsessively, your mouth slack against her: she was gorgeous, her chest heaving with her fast breathing as the reality came back to her. You moved up to kiss Abby, lying on top of her.

"Hey, (y/n)." Abby called, panting, her eyes are still closed, but her hands were already on you, caressing your back and your waist.

"Yeah?" You kissed her cheek, her nose, her eyes, buzzing with happiness.

Abby opened her eyes and you pressed your thighs together under her dark determined gaze: she looked at you like you were her prey and she finally caught you.

"Can you go again?"

[dustydaddyyy]

iv: miss you | joel miller x f!reader

flash point (series) masterlist

pairing: pre-TLOU! joel x fem!reader (no use of y/n!) summary: on a particuarly wet night, you run across tess servopoulos and joel miller, and they help you out of a tight spot chapter warnings: canon-typical violence and gore, swearing, nightmares, mentions of stab wounds, FEDRA is basically an authoritarian regime, fireflies are not much better, constant POV-changing (sorry not sorry I'm trying to be an omniscient b), a lot of jokes about joel's old-man status, the slowest slow-burn of slow burns (because I'm trash and like to make you all wait for it), joel is kind of slightly less of an asshole in some parts of this chapter (when is joel not an asshole tbf), !TW!: mentions of parent death and suicide

a/n: *cracks knuckles* time for some character backstory hehehe. also more sam interactions because mark my words he's going to be an important character. we're not going to be talking about how long this took me to post. all i can tell you is that chapter 5 will be up by the beginning of next week, as well, so stay tuned xx K

"I've been holding out so long

I've been sleeping all alone

Lord, I miss you"

It was always the same nightmare.

Same field, same sky, same scream.

You were always frozen, unable to move, watching helplessly as the figure advanced past the barbed wire of the zone slowly, arms so thin they looked like they could snap, shoulder blades visible against the thin material of the dirty shirt. You would watch in horror as the figure spread their arms wide, as if welcoming death, before opening their mouth. The scream always felt as though it were straight in your skull, echoing through every cavity in your body and sending white hot fear through your stomach. 

You’d always woken up the same way, as well, sitting bolt upright in bed, gasping for air as your thundering heartbeat echoed in your ears, eyes wide and filled with unshed tears.

Tonight had been no exception.

You try to keep your breathing under control as you sit upright, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. For a scary, disorienting moment, you have no idea where you are, gaze scanning the room for any hint of familiarity before your brain catches up and your memories fill you in.

Joel's apartment. Joel's couch.

Breathe.

The nightmare hadn't been new, but somehow, tonight, it had been worse. You were used to waking up in cold sweat and having to remind yourself it was just a nightmare, before falling back asleep, but tonight it was different.

Maybe it was the unfamiliarity with the environment, or simply the fact that this one had felt even more vivid and unsettling than the ones that had come before. Your heart pounds like a frantic drum as the remnants of your nightmare cling to your mind like cobwebs, a lingering haze of terror that refuses to dissipate.

It takes a second before your heartbeat settles again. Wiping the few tears that managed to escape your eyes from your cheeks, you try to take deep breaths. Casting a ghostly glow through the half-shut curtains, the moon is the only source of light as it hangs low in the midnight sky. Slowly you lower yourself back down onto the couch, hands trembling as they grip the sheet you'd been given by Tess, eyes staring up at the grimy ceiling. It's a warm night, one of those that makes every piece of clothing cling to your body. You had discarded your shorts long ago, leaving you in only the old but clean smelling t-shirt Tess had handed you before going to sleep.  

Desperately trying to close your eyes and go back to sleep, you twist and turn. You lie awake for a good long while, but nothing seems to work, the adrenaline of your nightmare coursing through your veins and keeping your mind awake. Swallowing hard, you take a deep breath and sit up again, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and burying your face in your hands, trying to shake off the lingering fear.

"Jesus," you whisper to yourself as you straighten out, before standing on shaky legs and quietly padding over to the kitchen. Normally, you'd have some shame about walking around somebody else's kitchen in the middle of the night in nothing but your underwear, but thankfully the shirt Tess gave you is too big, and just about long enough to cover your ass. You turn the faucet on, the water coming out a measly and unstable stream, before you cup your hands under it, bending down to splash some water on your face. You're not expecting it to work, but you still find the that the cold water helps ground you a little as you straighten back up, using your t-shirt to wipe the drops from your face.

You try to pull open a few cabinets as quietly as possible, looking for a glass. As you peer into the third one, which is filled with what looks like old coffee tins, a voice sounds from behind you.

"Glasses are under the sink."

You can't help the sharp intake of breath as you turn around to give Joel a wide-eyed look. He's standing –or rather, leaning– against the doorframe of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest as he peers at you. The dim moonlight reflects off the bare skin of his arms in his t-shirt, and it takes a lot of willpower not to stare at the grooves of the muscles in his biceps, smooth and powerful.

"Fucking Christ, Joel," you breathe out as you pinch the bridge of your nose, "Give a girl a warning if you're going to do that."

"How would I have made sure you weren't stealing if I'd said I was standing behind you?" he asks, and you raise a single, sarcastic eyebrow.  

"How do you know I'm not stealing from you, then?" you ask him, and for the first time since you've met him, Joel doesn't seem to react to your inflammatory tone, and he shrugs.

"You'd have looked in those tins," he says simply, and you press your lips together as you realize he makes a more than valid point.

You say nothing as you turn away from him, opening the cabinet he pointed out and pulling out a glass of water. Joel tries his hardest not to look at the way Tess' shirt rides up slightly over the curve of your ass to reveal the seams of your underwear, exposed skin illuminated by the peeking moonlight, but it's a force stronger than himself. It's silent between the two of you as you run the tap and fill up your glass, before taking a few big gulps.

"Couldn't sleep?" Joel asks suddenly, and again, you take notice of the fact that his tone is devoid of its usual gruffness.

"Yeah," you say, turning back to look at him, glass in hand. 

Joel's eyes zero in on the t-shirt you're wearing, and he realizes with a start that he recognizes the faded logo on the chest and the once vibrant color of the material. Sure, Tess had appropriated the shirt a long time ago when it had stopped fitting Joel, but seeing it on you still sent a shiver through him. He wasn't sure how it made him feel.

"You an insomniac or something?"

"Sometimes," you say with a tight-lipped smile, "Why are you awake? Except to make sure I'm not stealing from you, apparently."  

It's dark, so you aren't sure, but you swear you can see Joel's mouth twitch ever so slightly into what you might've considered a smile.

He shrugs. "Couldn't sleep either, I guess."

Joel wonders if you can tell that he's lying.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that once upon a time, Joel had been someone's father, but he was a light sleeper. This meant that he'd easily been awoken by the sounds of your crying whilst you'd been having your nightmare. He hadn't moved a muscle at first, assuming that you were awake and not wanting to get involved in personal business that didn't concern him, but eventually, he'd heard you wake up with a gasp and a cry and realized you'd been having a nightmare. 

Usually, Joel would've relished an opportunity to get on your nerves. Maybe it was the peace of the early hours of the night, or maybe he'd been far too well acquainted with how these kinds of nightmares could rattle you, but he felt no urge to tell you about what he'd heard.

Besides all of that, he also figured it was none of his damn business, anyway.  

You let out a hum as you nod, leaning against the counter, eyes on the floor between your feet. After another few beats of silence, Joel speaks up again.

"Do you trust him?"

You look up in surprise at his question, and Joel feels the need to elaborate.

"This. . . Samuel."

You give a nod, letting a breath out through your nose. "With my life."

There's another beat of silence.

"Ain't he FEDRA?" Joel asks again, and for a second you can hear the usual abrasive, skeptical tone. Your eyes move to meet his in the dark, gaze suddenly piercing through him as you give a little shrug and a slight raise of your eyebrow.

"I used to be FEDRA," you state simply, and Joel fights hard to keep the surprise off of his face, "You trust me."

"That's still debatable," Joel says, and you give a small huff of laughter, before taking another sip.

"Fair enough," you say with a nod, your eyes focusing on the water in your glass.

Joel really wants to ask you what you mean when you say you used to be FEDRA, but he doesn't. After a second, you let out a breath, looking up and giving him a semi-awkward smile.

"I think I'm going to try and get some sleep," you tell him, "When all of this has gone smoothly, I still have to work an 8 hour shift."

"You're going to jinx it."

"Anyone ever tell you you're kind of a pessimist?" you tell him with a tight lipped smile, and he shrugs his shoulders, making an indifferent face.

"Not to my face," he tells you, and you nod again as you push off of the counter. As you step past him, you stop for a second to look at him sideways, corners of your mouth twitching ever so slightly. 

"Well, you're kind of a pessimist, Joel Miller," you tell him, your voice a semi-whisper, before you move on and away, disappearing through the doorway and into the darkness of the living room.

The next morning, you're gone before Joel and Tess even wake up, leaving nothing but a pile with the folded sheet and the t-shirt behind. You'd managed to sweet talk your manager into letting you open, having no problem letting yourself into the dark Starbucks to go about usual opening activities until you hear the sound of a truck pulling up in the alleyway followed by a few firm knocks at the backdoor. You open the door with a smile, and the soldier that greets you, frowns.

"You're new," he mutters, and you pretend to look surprised, "Where's Lucy?"

"Sorry," you say in your best apologetic tone, "Lucy said I could open today. . .she said she's sent word it would be me instead of her?"

"Fucking tower's been down again because of the storm last night," he mutters, before he takes a minute of silence to look down at you. Then, he sighs. "Whatever, I don't care enough. . . she tell you how this works?"

You nod. "You're just dropping off, right? Someone else comes by to do inventory and handle pick up?"

"Come on," he beckons you out into the alley, where the truck has been parked back first, canvas cover flipped open to reveal the contents of the truck, "Pick up's not until closing time, but someone will be by in a half hour to inventorize. . . he's always fucking late, that one, but he'll be there. Then pick up will be later in the day. . . help me with this, will you? Partner's out sick and fuck knows central couldn't spare me the extra kid."

Together you spend the next 5 minutes lugging crates, barrels and boxes into the back of the Starbucks. When you're done, you give the soldier a blinding smile as he closes up the truck.

"Thanks for the help," he tells you, and you nod, smile still on your lips.

"Anytime," you tell him in a sweet voice, "Thanks for not being a dick about it."

The soldier snorts slightly. "What's your name?"

"Jenny," you lie smoothly, and the soldier gives a small nod, the beginnings of a smile on his mouth.

"Thanks for the help, Jenny," he nods, before giving you a crooked grin, "I'm Jack. I'll see you around?"

"Sure thing," you beam, and it feels almost unnatural to smile this much this early in the morning. Despite this, the smile stays plastered on your face until the truck disappears around the corner of the alley. 

There's a rustling sound behind you, followed by a voice.

"Jenny?"

You roll your eyes as you turn to face the source of the voice. Sure enough, Joel and Tess are standing at the back of the alley, having seemingly appeared out of the shadows.

How did they do that?

"I bet there are a million Jenny's in the QZ," you say with a shrug, "Means he'll have a harder time finding me if he decides to come looking. . . now come on, we don't have a lot of time."

They follow you inside the room, and when she catches sight of all the crates, Tess lets out a low whistle.

"This is a lot of shit," she says, raising a single eyebrow as her fingers run over the top of one of the boxes, which is labeled 'Penicillin', "Could sell this for a small fortune."

"I'd advise against it," you tell her as you walk over to one of the 4 barrels of fertilizer, "FEDRA might be sloppy with some things, but the one thing they're meticulous about is the medicine."

"Go figure," Tess says with a snort, before she watches as you grab the edges of one of them, before nodding towards her.

"Help me with this, please?" you ask, and for a second, a look of surprise crosses over Tess' face.

"Please?" she repeats, almost bemusedly, "You got some nice manners for a thief."

"Only cause I like you," you return semi-jokingly, and Tess lets out an agreeing hum.

"Can we focus?" Joel interjects, and when you turn to look at him, he's raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "This ain't fucking tea time, you know."  

It takes all three of you to move the barrel of fertilizer back out of the door and against the wall, and when you're done lugging and have gone back inside, Tess gives you a look. "Now what?"

"We wait," you say, pacing slightly in front of the door, and Joel frowns.

"I thought we were on a schedule," he notes, raising another skeptical eyebrow, "On account of the entire working population of the QZ going to said jobs in about an hour, and all of that."

"Thanks for enlightening me," you snap at him, and your mind works overtime as you stop in front of the barrel, heaving a sigh.

Where was Sam?

You knew he was working a shift this morning, this shift, because you'd had a sneaky look at the roster he'd stuffed in his pants pocket when he'd been passed out in bed two nights ago.

"So, this is your great plan? Wait around?" Joel continues, crossing his arms and giving you an unimpressed look.

"Do you have a fucking better idea, hm?" you say, stepping towards Joel, hands curling into fists, your lack of sleep catching up to your temper, "Because all I've heard out of your mouth so far has been criticism, and it's starting to seriously piss me off."

"I ain't afraid of you," he counters as he crosses his arms, looking unbothered, and your jaw tightens as you take another step towards him.

At that exact moment there's a sound, and a pair of headlights illuminate the alley; then, the sound of a motor switching off and a car door slamming shut drift through the air. A few moments later there's a hurried knock on the back door. You give Joel another furious glare before stalking over to the door and opening it in one fell swoop. Sam is standing on the doorstep, peering down at a sheet of paper you assume is the inventory list, end of a cigarette between his lips.

"Sorry I'm late, couldn't find my fucking lighter," he mutters, before pulling the cigarette from his lips and dropping it on the floor, "You do know you've got one barrel out–"

His voice stalls in his throat as his eyes fall on you, the smoke of his last drag disappearing in the air around him. "Speedy? What are you doing here?"

You give him a dry smile. "Working."

"You never work the morning shift, you'd hit someone over the head with a coffeepot," he retorts matter-of-factly, before he narrows his eyes at you, "You up to something?"

"No," you deny, slightly offended, but when Sam gives you an expectant look, you shrug your shoulders as he steps inside, door closing behind him, "How come I always have to be up to something?"

"I've known you for over a decade, speedy, I know when you're up to something."

"As delightful as this conversation is, can we get on with it?" comes Joel's voice from behind you, and you resist an urge to suck a sharp breath between your teeth.

You wouldn't say Sam is a jealous man, but he isn’t exactly amenable to strangers.

Sam is silent for a second as his eyes move between Joel, Tess, and yourself, the playfulness in his eyes gone. "Who's this?"

His voice is tense, like an elastic that's been pulled taut, and you swallow slightly.

"Doesn't matter," you dismiss, shaking your head, "Look, Sam, I need your help."

Sam's eyes move between you and the two people standing behind you, expression unsure.

"Yeah?" he asks, raising a single eyebrow as he observes the scene, "With what?"

"The blue barrel in the alley outside. . . I need you to write it off the inventory," you tell him, and you watch Sam's eyes move from Joel and Tess to you, jaw falling open slightly. Then, he closes his mouth, eyes becoming stormy as his jaw twitches in anger.

"Are you serious right now, speedy?" he asks you, and you resist the urge to correct him on the nickname in front of Joel and Tess, and you watch as Sam runs his tongue over his top teeth in frustration, "Can I talk to you? Privately?" 

"Sam–" you say, but he doesn't give you time to react as he takes a hold of your forearm and all but drags you through the door of the backroom to the front of the shop and out of earshot. Tess and Joel exchange a look at the action, both wordlessly taking a step a little closer to the doorway.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Sam tells you as he rounds on you, eyes narrowed into an expression that makes it clear he isn't happy, "Tell me you're joking, right now."

"Sam, please," you ask, and your voice is surprisingly vulnerable, "Listen, you know how I told you I stole from the wrong people. . . ? Look, all I need to do is this, and then we're even, but I need your help."

"You've got some goddamn nerve, asking me this. . . you're putting me in a fucking impossible position, speedy," Sam hisses at you, eyes bulging slightly, "What if someone notices, hm? Then it's my head on the chopping block."

"They won't notice. . . they can't notice something they never knew they even had," you assure him, putting a hand on his forearm, "Please, Samuel."

After a second of brooding silence, Joel hears Sam sigh.

"What do you even need a barrel of fertilizer for?" he asks, and you let out a breath, giving him an almost guilty look.

"It's better if you don't ask questions," you tell him, your voice slightly uneasy, "Just–. . . please?"

Another beat of silence.

"What's your big fucking plan, then?" he asks, "Even if you had a car, how are you going to move this massive barrel across the QZ without at least 50 guards on your ass?"

"The abandoned church on Salem," you say carefully, knowing he isn't going to take it well.

"That's been boarded off for a very good reason, and you know it," Sam says immediately, shaking his head, "There is no way in hell."

"Come on, Sam," you plead, "I know FEDRA cleared it out forever ago and just keeps those signs up to avoid people sleeping in it."     

"How the fuck would you know that, hm?" he snaps at you, before Joel hears him sigh again, "Nevermind, don't answer that, I don't even want to know."

"It's on your delivery route, all you have to do is drop us off with the barrel so I can keep it there all day and move it as soon as it gets dark."

"That all?" he asks you sardonically, and for some reason, Joel finds himself getting irritated at this kid's tone with you. It wouldn't kill him to be a little nicer about things.

Eventually, Sam speaks again.

"Fine," he says, "But I'm not taking your little criminal friends in the truck with me, that's out of the question."

"How the hell am I going to move it, then?" you ask, and you sound put out.

"You can figure that out, since you're so clever," his voice is biting, filled with aggravation, and after a second, Joel hears you sigh.

"Yeah, okay. . . I'll figure it out. Thanks, Sam."

"Don't mention it," he says bitterly, before Joel and Tess hear his heavy boots walking back towards the backroom before he appears in the doorway again, eyes settling on both of them for a second. Then, he looks over his shoulder, looking back at you.

"Come on then," he tells you, his tone irritated, "You think I've got all day?"

Joel feels another stab of annoyance as he regards Sam, but he doesn't say anything, instead exchanging a glance with Tess.

"What's the plan?" Tess asks carefully, even though she's fully aware of it, and the soldier gives her a look.

"Go home," he tells her, rather bluntly, "She can handle it from here."

"I think we'll wait to hear that from her."

Joel doesn't know why he says anything; maybe it's the frustration at his tone, maybe it's the fact that he has stakes in this particular plan succeeding, but he gives the soldier a raised eyebrow as he receives a glare.

"It's okay," you say hastily as you watch Sam open his mouth to deliver what you're sure is a scathing rebuke, and you give Joel a look that clearly means 'drop it', "I'll meet you there."

Joel shakes his head. "And then what? You gonna move that thing by yourself? Not to diminish your abilities, but there's no way in hell you're moving 300 pounds of fertilizer in your lonesome."

"Who said anything about her doing it alone?" Sam interjects, and now Joel raises a single eyebrow.

"You did," he returns bluntly, not giving a damn if he knows he's been listening to their conversation, and Sam squares his shoulders, "Just now, actually."

"Not just a criminal, but an eavesdropper, too?" Sam says sardonically, before turning to you with a frozen, sarcastic smile, "This is the company you're keeping, lately, hm? Real nice."

Joel is about to open his mouth again to tell this little punk exactly what an eavesdropping criminal will do if he keeps speaking to you the way he is, but you beat him to the punch.

"That's enough, Samuel, we don't have time for this shit," you tell him, your voice firm, "I don't need to remind you about keeping bad company, do I?"

Your tone is biting, and clearly it works, because the soldier clamps his mouth shut with a furious glare as you turn back to Joel and Tess.

"I'll be fine," you say with a nod, mostly talking to Joel so he doesn't start anything when there isn't any time for it, "I'll meet you there. . . promise I won't run off with your shit again."

You say that last part with a small smile, which neither Joel nor Tess return, but eventually Tess gives a short nod.

"Tough crowd," you mutter to yourself, before you feel Sam's fingers close over your forearm, which makes you wince slightly, "Ouch, Samuel."

"Come on, then," he says in an irritated tone, ignoring your yelp of pain as he pulls you forward towards the door, "But if we get caught, I'm ratting you out."

Joel and Tess follow you out, and as Sam angrily stomps over to the truck, lifting the tarp from the back, you pull a set of keys out of your pocket and use them to lock the back door. 

"You guys go already, you'll need the head start. . .if you cut through the abandoned post office on 5th, you'll get there in 10 minutes, tops," you say as the lock clicks, before grabbing the edges of the barrel.

Tess nods. "Meet you there?"

You give an agreeing hum and a nod, before there's a banging noise as Sam gives the back of the truck a whack.

"Let's fucking go, speedy," he lets out in an exasperated breath as he starts to walk back towards you.

"Sure you got it from here?" Joel huffs out as his eyes move between you and Sam quickly, and you give a small nod, shooting him a furtive smile.

"Yeah, thanks," you say, and you sound genuinely grateful, which catches Joel slightly off guard. He looks at Tess, nodding once, before they step away from you and start to jog down the alley, making sure to glare at Sam in passing.

"Not sure I liked the way that kid grabbed her," Joel lets out gruffly as they round the corner, and Tess gives him an unimpressed look.

"Barely 20 hours ago I had to pull you off of her when you grabbed her in the exact same way."

"That was different," Joel grumbles, and Tess' eyebrow raises.

"How, exactly?" she asks him, but Joel ignores her and gestures for her to move on.

Back in the alleyway, Sam lets out a grunt as the two of you lug the barrel into the back of the truck.

"Unbelievable," he mutters to himself, shaking his head, "You're going to get me killed one day, you know that?"

"Let's hope later rather than sooner, hm?" you answer as the barrel drops into the truck bed with a decisive thump.

Sam lets out a grudging hum, before gesturing towards the back.

There's a moment of silence as you exchange a look, before you make a face.

"You can't be serious," you tell him, and his eyebrows raise.

"No way you're riding in the front, speedy," he tells you, and this time he doesn't sound angry, "I'm sorry, but there's no way I can explain you to anyone if we get stopped. . . besides, wouldn't you rather stay anonymous?"

You give him an annoyed look, before you clench your jaw and grudgingly get in the back of the truck, sitting down next to the barrel on one of the makeshift wooden benches nailed to the side.

"Thank you," Sam says in a breath, before giving you a furtive smile, "See you in 5 minutes."

Then, he unties the tarp at the top of the truck so it falls to cover the contents of the back, you included.

The ride is semi-smooth, except for a moment where Sam gets stopped at a checkpoint because his 'buddy', Carter, wants to know if he has any cigarettes to share. It gives you half a heart attack when you feel him bang his rifle on the metal side of the truck in a joking greeting.

"Sam-my," he says, his voice low and arrogant, "Late on the early shift again, hm?"

"I overslept," Sam says, and you can tell from his dry tone he isn't totally enamored with Carter.

"I would say it happens to the best of us, but. . . we're all here, Sammy."

His smug laugh floats through the morning air, and it makes you roll your eyes.

Jesus Christ, this guy.

As you suspect, Carter just wants a cigarette. But as he leans through the window, you hear him clear as day as he speaks to Sam. "You got anything extra today? For my pain, you know."

There's a grunt from Samuel as you listen to him rummaging around, before Carter lets out a contented hum and clears his throat, stepping away from the truck. "Alright, come on, let him through."

The truck rumbles down the street as you leave the checkpoint behind, and barely a few minutes and a corner later, it stops and the motor switches off. You hear Sam's footsteps as he jumps from the driver side and walks around to the back of the truck, before lifting the tarp.

"Out you come," he says, and you clamber out as inconspicuous as possible, which you're not going to lie, is hard.

Finally your feet hit the ground in front of him.

"You know," you say as you stand up straight to face Sam, your face barely a few inches from his, "I wouldn't let Carter walk all over you like that."

"I can't remember asking for your opinion," he tells you with a sarcastic smile, and you raise your eyebrows slightly, making a face.

"You could take him."

"I don't want to, speedy," Samuel says with a scoff, shaking his head as he lowers the latch of the truck, "I'm not interested in making enemies like you are."

"I don't make enemies," you defend slightly, and even though Sam doesn't look at you, you can tell on his face he doesn't believe you.

"We've been here barely two months and you already owe the wrong people too much money."

"Who said it was money?" you ask again, and when Sam doesn't answer you, you let out a breath through your nose, pursing your lips.

"Is that why you didn't want Joel and Tess in here? Didn't want them to know you bribe your buddy Carter for some extra minutes of sleep? He just a smoker. . . ? Or does he use something stronger?"

"Oh, bite me," Sam tells you with a narrowing of his eyes, and you give him a half-smirk as you stare him challengingly in the face.

"Anywhere you like, Sammy," you tell him teasingly, and he lets out a scoff, shaking his head as the corner of his lips pull upwards.

At that moment, you hear footsteps at the end of the relatively small street, and you turn your head to watch Tess and Joel approaching.

"We all got there in the end!" you say brightly, and you're met with Joel's scowl as he scoffs.

"Speak for yourself, sweetheart, you came in a truck."  

You watch as Sam's brow crinkles just slightly at the sound of the nickname Joel uses, but you move on as quickly as you can.

"A man your age, should be keeping fit," you say in a robust, mocking voice, before making a face at him that drips with false concern, "Wouldn't want to risk you dropping dead from a heart attack at the ripe old age of sixty-five, grandpa."

"Means a lot coming from someone who's been alive less than two decades," he snaps back, "Tell me, do you remember what a rotary phone is?"

"I know perfectly well what it is," you reply swiftly, and Joel makes a momentary face like he's considering it.

"How's the day going to work?" Tess interjects suddenly, gaze resting on the expression on Sam's face, whose eyes keep flitting between you and Joel.

You heave a sigh. "I'm going to have to go back to work, but I'll get here as soon as I get off at 3pm."

Tess nods. "Works for me, I got a 4:30pm job to get to. It should finish before curfew at ten."

"I'll stay in the area to make sure nothing goes wrong, then," you say with a short nod, before eyeing them both, "And then your friend and his dudes can do the rest."   

"Dudes," Joel repeats, his voice slight with disdain.

"Men, goons, brutes. . . whatever," you say with a wave of your hand.

"You're in luck, my final shift of the afternoon is somewhere around here," Sam says sarcastically, before shooting you a look, "Although not very sure about the coincidences of that."

"M'staying," Joel grunts, exchanging a look with Tess, "Don’t have much going on today, anyway.”

You bite back a snippy comment about how he has no life, concluding that you all don’t really have that much of a life in a post-apocalyptic hellscape. 

“I need to go back to the shop,” you say, giving a half-apologetic look, “I can’t miss this shift, and if my boss finds out I skipped after begging her for it in the first place she’ll fire me faster than I can even apologise.” 

“Go,” Tess says with a nod, and you give a half-hearted smile before you walk away, Samuel in tow. Joel watches as you exchange a few words, not missing the way Sam’s hand brushes over the side of yours as you talk. Tess also seems to notice, brows raising slightly as she observes your interaction, but she says nothing. 

She looks away instead, wondering what the fuck she’s going to do to kill 8 hours with the man-turned-brick-wall that was Joel Miller. 

True to your word, you're back at three in the afternoon. The sun is still high in the air, which is thick with humidity. Boston didn't get many hot days, but when it did, they were also horribly humid. Joel and Tess are standing right where you left them, or rather a combination of standing and sitting. They look bored. 

You hold up a paper bag as you approach. 

“Anybody want a snack?” you ask semi-flippantly, and Joel shoots you a glare from his position leaning against the brick wall, beams of sun illuminating his feet as the rest of him stands in the scarce shade. When you receive no answer from neither him nor Tess, you give a dry smile. 

“Not all at once.” 

“This isn’t a picnic,” Joel snaps, and you give him a look.

“Who pissed in your oatmeal this morning, grandpa?” you ask him, before your face turns jokingly serious, “Tell me, did you run out of raisins?” 

The glare Joel delivers is furious, but you shrug your shoulders in mock innocence. 

“Out there you can be as mouthy as you fuckin' want,” you imitate his voice, exaggerating his accent as much as you can as you throw his words from last night in his face, “This counts as out there, right?” 

Joel can see in your face that you’re enjoying talking smack to him; your eyes have a twinkle to them he’s not sure whether he likes or loathes. 

“I don’t sound like that,” he says finally, resolving not to give in to your digs, because he knows that’s exactly what you want. He watches with some satisfaction as you let a breath out through your nose, almost a huff, eyebrows moving up momentarily as you turn away from him and go to sit down against the wall. Tess is sitting on it, peeling an orange in silence. 

The silence doesn’t last very long, though. Joel’s eyes land on your twitching fingers; you’re not someone who likes silence – it makes him wonder why.

“Where the fuck d’you get an orange?” you ask Tess, hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun as you look up at her. She meets your gaze with a nonplussed look. 

“Went to the market,” she returns sarcastically, “Selection’s great this time of year.”

Joel feels a distant urge to smile at her snark as you give her a dry smile.

It’s silent again, and for a second Joel rests his head against the wall and allows himself to close his eyes, the only sounds coming from the people in the street around him. It seems silly, but like this, Joel doesn’t have to see. Sure, the sounds of the QZ are quite a bit different from what cities used to sound like, but it’s still nice to close his eyes from time to time and pretend it’s the same. 

His ears perk at a new sound, like something scraping against wood, and when he opens his eyes to investigate, they fall on you sitting against the wall. Your knees are pulled up, and Joel’s eyes have to look past your knees to see that you have that tiny blade clutched in one hand and a stick in the other, using your knee to sharpen it to a tip. You’re focused, eyes staring as the blade rolls over the wood, chips curling elegantly before falling into your lap. 

“The silence was nice,” Joel comments, and you actually find yourself rolling your eyes, but you don’t look up at him.

“I didn’t say anything,” you tell him pointedly. 

More silence. Joel’s eyes feel like they’re staring holes into your head. 

“You one of those kids that can’t sit still?” he asks eventually, clearing his throat as he crosses his arms and peers down at you. Your mouth curves slightly but you still don’t look up at him, focusing on your stick. 

“So what if I am?” you reply, your voice smooth but Joel discerns the slight defensive tone, “And I’m not a kid, Joel.”

There it is again. Joel hates how much hearing you say his name like that affects him. He looks away, directing his surly expression across the street. There’s a FEDRA checkpoint set up there, and he watches as Sam chats to another soldier. Occasionally, they stop someone, and search them, but it doesn’t get much more exciting than that. 

You’re done sharpening your stick; you discard in the dust at your feet, before breathing a small sigh as you look across the road at the checkpoint. 

"What's the story?" Tess asks you as she follows your line of sight to Sam, who is standing at the checkpoint actually laughing with one of his fellow soldiers.

"Hm?" you ask her, and she gives you a look as she nods in his direction.

"With your soldier."

"He isn't my soldier."

"He's something," Tess says matter-of-factly, and you let out a sigh.

Joel pretends he isn't listening as he leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes survey the square, but his ears are very tuned into the conversation. As much as he hates to admit it, he's just as curious about the nature of your relationship to Sam as Tess is.

"I've known Sam a long while. . . we met in FEDRA military school," you say finally, and Tess' expression barely changes as her gaze bores into yours, eyebrows moving up as they silently ask you to continue your story.

"Here in Boston?" she asks, and you shake your head.

"No, uh," you clear your throat, and Joel notices the way your fingers twitch nervously around the blade, "San Francisco. . . I was there before I came here a few months ago."

"Didn't they have a full-scale insurrection in San Francisco?" Joel speaks up, and you turn your head to look at him, nodding as your eyes fall back on your fingers, which twirl the knife around in your hands.

"Yeah, it was carnage," you say, swallowing, before your eyes move back up, resting on Sam again, "We barely got out of it alive."

"How'd you end up there in the first place?" Tess asks, and you give her a cautious look.

"How come you're suddenly interested in my life story?" you ask her, your tone almost defensive, and she raises her eyebrows as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"If this goes right, I have a nasty little feeling we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other, and I don't like going into my partnerships blind," she tells you, and you nod with a small scoff, "And I guess we've got time to kill."

"I guess we do," you say sarcastically, and Joel watches as you click the blade into the handle, before putting it in your pocket. 

"Outbreak day was the day before my 10th birthday," you explain, swallowing, hands clasping together in your lap, "My parents owned a convenience store in Fresno."

"California?" Tess interjects, frowning, "The hell d'you come all the way out here for?"

"It wasn't my choice," you tell her, sighing as you clear your throat, and Joel watches from his peripheral as you start to pick the skin around your nails. 

You’re nervous. 

"By some miracle, we lived through outbreak day. . . then, for a while, we were in the San Francisco QZ, but that didn't end well."

"We heard that all the way over here."

You nod, swallowing. "Fireflies. . . just like you have here, I guess, only more willing to risk collateral damage for the cause."

When neither Joel nor Tess speak, you clear your throat again. "San Francisco QZ wasn't always bad. . . it started out relatively okay, but more people just kept coming, and for some reason they handled it badly. I mean the center of the city was heavily fortified, and probably the safest you'd find on the west coast. . . but you had to get in there, first. Most people lived on the outskirts, and into the surrounding Bay Area. . . FEDRA still had some control. There was a fence for infected all the way across the Bay bridge, but it became the number 1 breeding ground for crime and squalor. . . and resistance. People were starving, poor, and angry, and looking for someone to blame."

"Recipe for disaster," Tess mutters, and you nod, swallowing hard.

"They ignored the Fireflies for a long time, they just let them do their thing, it was all mostly non-violent. I guess we got lucky, because they allowed my dad to run this little store right on the outskirts of the inner city. . . he used to let the Fireflies use the storefront to move goods easily in and out of the zone and the suburbs without treading on FEDRA's toes."

"Your dad was a firefly?" Tess interjects, one of eyebrows raised, but you can't decipher whether she looks impressed by or dismissive of the fact.

"No," you say, pointedly, "He believed in the cause, definitely. . . but he had us. . . he couldn't commit to it like others."

"Touching," Joel mutters, and your eyes deliver a stinging glare as you regard him, before taking another breath and looking away.

"The first time the Fireflies took a more radicalized approach to their resistance, I remember I was in the store. . . I would help my dad, and the FEDRA facility two blocks down got blown up by a car bomb from the street. . . 14 soldiers died, all teenagers that were training at the academy they had there."   

"Jesus," Joel lets out a sour breath, shaking his head as he looks away again for a second, eyes on the abandoned church. 

"I remember my dad arguing with some guys on our doorstep that night. . . the SF Fireflies had had a change of leadership," you explain, and Joel notices the way you wring your hands nervously as you tell them, his own arms crossed as he regards you. "He refused to help them any longer and they weren't pleased. . .they tried to threaten him but he wouldn't give in. I guess someone overheard the conversation in the street because when I got back from school the next day, he'd been arrested­–" your voice stalls in your throat for a second and Joel watches as you swallow, hard, before you continue, "­They hung him in the square, for everyone to see. . . I didn't find out until I walked past him on my way home from school." 

The silence that follows is heavy, and as you look down at your fiddling hands in your lap, Joel and Tess exchange a shocked look.

"I'm sorry," Tess offers after a second, and you nod. Even though you aren't looking at them, Joel watches as you swallow hard, your eyes blinking furiously, before you take a deep breath and look back up.

"Yeah, well–" you clear your throat again, offering a bitter half-smile, "I guess everyone's got a shitty story."

"What happened after that?" Joel asks, and you shrug.

"My mom enrolled me in the FEDRA academy a few months after that. . . I would spend weekends at home to see them, but most of the time, I was there. . . it's where I met Sam."

"Them?" Tess asks, and her tone is surprisingly gentle, and she watches as you swallow hard.

"Yeah, I had a little sister," you explain, nodding, "My mom was pregnant when the outbreak happened, and Grace was born a couple of months after outbreak day. . . she was 6 years old when my dad died."

"Are they here? In Boston?" Tess asks, and the minute you look at her, and she sees the pain in your eyes as you shake your head, she wishes she'd never asked.

"No, uh–. . . Gracie died of typhoid fever the next year, and my mom hung herself a few months after that– a couple of days after I turned sixteen."

Another silence follows as your purse your lips awkwardly, your eyes swimming with grief as your fingers pick at each other. Joel feels a familiar tightness in his chest; he wasn’t necessarily surprised you’d been through what could only be described as a pile of shit, but hearing it still stirred uneasy feelings for him as he thinks about his own loss. 

If Sarah had been alive, she would’ve undoubtedly told him to be nicer to you. 

Finally, Tess breaks the silence again.

"Why'd you come out here?" Tess asks, and you shrug. Joel watches as you blink furiously a couple of times, but when you clear your throat and look back up at them, he can still see the tears lingering in the corners of your eyes.

"Furthest away I could get," you admit, taking another breath, "The group of fireflies who took over San Francisco, they were out for blood. . . they hung as many FEDRA soldiers as they could get their hands on, young and old, and they didn't care who you were."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Tess breathes, and you nod.

"I hadn't worked for FEDRA for a while by that point, but–" you voice quiets in your throat as you press your lips together, "Let's just say I wasn't very popular."

"How'd you two get out of here?" Tess asks, and your eyes fall on Sam again.

"We managed to drive a truck up to Seattle, but they were having their own problems. . . we got separated in the mess of it all. . . Samuel managed to get out in a fleeing FEDRA convoy, and they relocated here. . . I walked."

"You what?" Joel lets out before he can stop himself, making no effort to hide the shock in his voice, "You walked? You walked from Seattle to Boston?" 

You shrug as you look between him and Tess. "Where the fuck was I gonna go otherwise? We'd agreed on Boston months before that. . . we'd heard it was better here."

Joel lets out a scoff, shaking his head. "That makes no fucking sense. . . How are you even alive?"

You shrug. "How is anyone alive? We're in the fucking apocalypse, dude. . . I guess my spite got me far."

"That's a lot of fucking spite to go on," Tess says, raising a single eyebrow disbelievingly, "How long did it take you?"

"To Boston? About two months, give or take," you tell her, and Joel lets out another scoff, shaking his head as his gaze rolls over the crowd again, but you ignore him, "Got lucky and found a bike somewhere on the border with Canada. . . cut the time in half."

An impressed expression crosses into Tess' eyes, and when you look to your side, Joel is frowning at you again, and you can tell from his eyes that he can't decide whether or not to believe your outrageous story.

"Look, believe whatever the fuck you want, but that's the honest to god truth," you say with a sigh, before getting to your feet as your eyes go from Sam back to Joel and Tess as you wipe your hands on your jeans uneasily,, “Do you need me here? Cause frankly I smell like shit and I need a shower.” 

Even to you, it sounds like a clear lie. 

Tess disguises her surprise well, but Joel can read her face because it mirrors his feelings. The unease in your face and voice at talking about your past is intriguing, and Joel can’t shake the feeling that hadn’t been the whole story.  

“As long as you’re back for the actual pick up,” she says, and you nod your head, “Cause I gotta go at 16:30, and if I leave Joel to it, the dude’s going to end up with two less teeth than he started rather than with a barrel of fertilizer.” 

You try to bite back the small smile that grows on your lips, but you don’t hide it well as Joel scowls at Tess. 

“Don’t deal in anger management meds, huh?” you ask, an ounce of your earlier cheekiness returning as you look at Tess, who snorts. 

“My life would be easier,” she comments, and you actually chuckle as you step away. 

“You two are real fuckin’ funny,” he says, his voice a deep but sarcastic growl, and you give Joel a furtive glance over your shoulder.

“All in good fun,” you shoot back, “See you later.” 

With that, you flounce off and down the street, fingers tapping nervously against your thigh as you start weaving through the people. 

The minute you’re out of earshot, Tess heaves a breath. “Jesus fucking christ.” 

Joel nods along with an agreeing hum, eyes meeting her stormy ones. 

“She can’t be a whole lot older than–”

“27,” Joel says quietly, clearing his throat as he looks at his feet for a second, not wanting to meet Tess’ intense stare, “She’d be two years younger.” 

The silence that follows is heavy, before Tess scoffs and shakes her head. 

“At 27 I was fucking my way through Detroit city,” she says with a raise of her eyebrows, “Not fighting for my life.” 

Joel makes a face. “Thanks for the information.” 

“What?” Tess asks, raising a single eyebrow as she looks at him, “You’re not a prude, Joel, so don’t act like one.” 

Joel’s eyes shoot her a warning look. Not an acceptable topic of conversation right now. 

Tess says nothing more, only the remnants of a cocky smile on her lips as she heaves a sigh, before her eyes zero back in on Sam. 

“What’s their deal?” she asks, practically squinting at him, “Are they together?”

Joel lets out a noncommittal grunt, shaking his head as he looks at Sam across the street. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“You don’t think so, or you don’t want so?” Tess asks him, and Joel can feel her eyes boring into the side of his face as he ignores her comment. 

“He invited her in one night, she said no.” 

Tess makes a face, sucking some air between her teeth. “Ouch.”

Joel nods and makes an agreeing hum, before he tears his eyes away from Sam and back to Tess with his usual, indecipherable stare. Her gaze is equally difficult to read as she stares right back at him, but says nothing before she looks away again with a breath. 

Eventually, Tess leaves for her job. Joel stands in the same spot, occasionally stretching out or sitting on the little wall when his back starts to protest too loudly, eyes trained on the church and occasionally going back and forth to Sam. He knows the soldier is watching him, too, but Joel doesn’t mind, expression unchanged and as surly as ever.  

You come back just after darkness has fallen, when the FEDRA checkpoint has had its last shift rotation and the people of the QZ have started retiring to their homes in time for curfew. 

“Have you not moved?” you ask Joel as you approach him, and it takes almost all of his willpower not to jump in surprise. He doesn't know how you'd snuck up on him that way, and makes a mental note to keep an eye out for you doing it in the future. 

Joel doesn’t answer you, just letting out a noncommittal grunt that makes you roll your eyes. 

“You’re not really a man of many words, are you?” you ask him, sounding bemused, and Joel gives you a look. 

“Trust me, I’ve got plenty of words for you,” he tells you, and your eyebrows raise as you put a mocking hand over your chest. 

“Still angry with me for fixing your watch? And solving your supply problem?” you ask him, batting your eyelashes.

“I never asked for you to fix my watch, sweetheart,” he replies in an aggravated tone.

Your lips plump ever so slightly into a mocking pout. “You’re hurting my feelings here, Joel.”  

Joel lets out a grunt. “Thank god I don’t give a damn about whose feelings I’m hurting.” 

“Taking your role as bitter middle-aged criminal very seriously, I can see,” you say with a snort, and Joel shoots you a glare, but you aren’t looking at him anymore. 

Your eyebrows knit together as you look at something, before your teasing expression falls away and it becomes guarded. “That your guy?” 

Joel turns to watch Peter approaching them from the end of the dark street. His lips are twitched into that same smile that gave Joel the creeps the first time he met him. He gives Joel a nod, and behind him, two young-looking guys come out of the alley, too. 

Joel is immediately on edge; the unnerving smile, the rifle one of the guys is wearing, coupled with the way all three men looked at you, sets him on high alert. 

“Hello there, Joel.” 

There’s a small crease in your brow at the tone of his voice as you come to stand level with Joel, who nods at the man. His whole body is tense as he stands as straight as he can, eyes never leaving Peter. He wonders whether you’ve noticed the change in the air yet, but he doesn’t want to stick around long enough for you to figure it out.

“We’ve got your fertilizer,” he grunts, nodding towards the church, and an impressed expression crosses Peter’s face. Then, he looks at one of the guys standing by his side, motioning with his head. The guy stalks off towards the abandoned church, as Peter looks back at you. 

“I gotta say I’m impressed, shit’s been real hard to get my hands on. . . didn’t think you’d have it in you,” Peter muses, before his eyes move from Joel to you, “Maybe it has something to do with this lovely lady, hm?” 

Joel doesn’t have to look at you to feel the shift in your demeanor as you stand next to him, and he watches your shoulders square from his peripheral and you give Peter a cold smile. 

“You’re smooth,” you remark, your tone tinged with sarcasm, “What do you need all this fertilizer for?” 

Peter’s smile becomes icy. 

“Putting your nose where it doesn’t belong gets people killed around here, honey,” he says, Joel feels something stir in his stomach at the sound of the nickname and the implicit threat, “But if you’re done asking questions, you're welcome to come with us for a drink. . . promise we’ll show you a real nice time.” 

Joel feels his fists balling up, and out of the corner of your eyes, you notice his shoulders tensing even more. 

“I’ll pass,” you say, almost immediately, raising a single unimpressed eyebrow, “As. . . appealing as that sounds.” 

Peter lets out a hum, shrugging his shoulders. “Your loss, honey.” 

Joel still doesn’t love the look in his eyes as they linger on you, running down your figure. 

At that moment, the man he’d sent to check on the merchandise comes back, giving a curt nod. “It’s all there.” 

“Great,” Peter says through a breath, before he pulls out another wad of ration cards tied together by some string. He tosses them at Joel. “That’s the rest of it.” 

Joel gives another silent nod, but he doesn’t check the ration cards, eyes instead trained steadfastly on Peter as he looks back at you, not wanting to take his eyes off this fucker for even a minute. Again, the twinkle in the guy’s eye gives Joel the creeps. 

“You got a home I can walk you to?” Peter tries again, but as you open your mouth to reply, Joel loses his cool. 

“She’s fine where she is,” he snaps, his voice steady but not any less threatening as he glares at Peter, who puts up his hands defensively. 

“Didn’t mean to tread on anyone’s toes,” he says in a nonchalant voice, calculating gaze moving between you and Joel, “Ain’t she a little young for you?” 

“That’s none of your business,” you snap at him, and you’re starting to sound more annoyed by the minute. 

“Let’s go,” Joel lets out in a low voice, and to your surprise, you feel his hand close around your forearm. It’s surprisingly gentle as he pulls you back, before showing Peter his back. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Peter calls after both of you, but Joel pays him no heed as he pulls you down the street with a hasty walk. 

“Dude,” you say when they’re out of earshot, shivering slightly as you pull your arm out of Joel's grip, “What is with that guy? He’s fucking creepy.” 

Joel gives an agreeing hum, nodding as he peers over his shoulder. “He’s definitely got an unnerving gaze.” 

“Understatement of the goddamn century,” you snort, before you frown as Joel follows you when you take a left in the alley towards your apartment. "What are you doing? You live the other way.” 

Joel peers over his shoulder again. “Walking you home.” 

You raise a single eyebrow. “I’m not helpless, Joel. . . I can walk myself home.” 

“I never said you were, trust me,” Joel says with a snort, remembering the press of your blade against his stomach like it was just yesterday, “But something tells me Ted Bundy's starving twin back there doesn’t react very well to being told no, and I don’t need your sudden unexplained disappearance on my conscience.” 

It takes a significant amount of your willpower not to say anything teasing, instead nodding. “Thanks.” 

You walk mostly in silence, but when you arrive at your street, you see that somebody is leaning against the building, arms crossed and clearly waiting. It’s Sam. 

“You’re a popular girl tonight,” Joel notes with a raise of his eyebrows as he slows down slightly, and you let out a small snort. 

“It has to do with my irresistible charm,” you tell him jokingly, raising your arms, “Half-dead and struggling to make ends meet. . . it’s the new sex.” 

You watch with some satisfaction as the corner’s of Joel’s mouth twitch slightly into what you can only assume would be a smile, before he stops completely, eyeing Sam. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” he says, giving you a look you can’t decipher, “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” 

You give a small nod, suddenly feeling a little awkward as you’re overcome with an urge to bid him goodbye in some way, but you don’t know how. Instead, you keep your hands by your side, swinging them awkwardly as you look back at Sam. 

“You know where to find me,” you say with a small chuckle, before heaving a breath, “Night, Joel.” 

Joel says nothing, just nods once at you, before he turns on his heel and disappears down the street, darkness swallowing him up. 

taglist:

apart from those of you who explicitly asked to be added, i also took the liberty of tagging some of you that showed interest in more parts (if you do not want to be tagged, please please let me know, in which case i apologize in advance for doing so!)

@tanushreeg27 @user1112223334449890171 @frecklefacelm @samarav @alyssiamarierenee @platinumblondeedition @huntersandpie @lizlil @lumpypoll @pedro-pascal-3nthusiast @phryne-fish @ponyboys-sunsets

as usual, replies, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated

[onstrangerthighs]

The Ugly Truth

Despite wishing her mother good night thirty minutes ago, Nancy’s eyes refuse to shut. Whenever she starts to drift off, she sees Barb crawling out from underground to blame her for what happened that night. Nancy would argue her case, but there’s no defense. She failed her friend. Barb hadn’t even wanted to go along in the first place! 

I’m going insane just lying here. Maybe some warm milk will calm me down.

She passes the bathroom on the way to the stairs. Mom’s not in the tub? I didn’t hear the water go off. Huh. 

The front door is open, and there’s the boy from Tina’s party who came speeding into Hawkins High School’s parking lot with his car radio on full blast. The boy Steve keeps staring at like a stunned fish. She’s shit with remembering names. Ben… something? 

Curiosity gets the better of her. She stays very still on the second step, ears and eyes peeled. 

Mom answered the door in her bathrobe? Nancy shifts her attention to Ben- no Billy, his name’s Billy. He seems… tense. Fidgety. 

“I’m Nancy’s mother.” 

“No.” 

For some reason, Billy saying that in a clearly sarcastic tone makes her mother twirl her hair and giggle, “Yes” like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

You’ve never acted this way with Dad. 

“Mrs. Wheeler.” 

“Um, I’m sorry, and you are?”

“Billy. Billy Hargrove.” He extends a hand for her to shake, and when she does, he puts his other hand over hers.

What the fuck is happening? Why aren’t you pulling away? 

“You must be here for Nancy.” 

“Nancy? No, no, no.”

One no would’ve done the trick. 

“Not my type.” 

Nancy snorts into her hand. 

“Uh… No, actually I am looking for my little sister Max. Goes by Maxine. She’s been missing all day, and, uh, to be honest with you, I’ve been worried sick, you know, so…”

“Oh.” 

You sound almost… disappointed. Why would you be, unless… No. Surely not. 

“I thought she was at Lucas’, but Mrs. Sinclair said your house is the…the designated hangout, so, you know… Here I am.” 

This has got to be the worst pretend pickup line I’ve ever heard. He’s got no interest in you, Mom. You know that, don’t you? 

Billy comes in, and if he notices Nancy lurking at the top of the stairs as he goes into the kitchen, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Their driveway is pretty dark this time of night,” Mom says, scribbling down an address for him. “So drive slowly.”

“Always.” He pockets the address and takes an extra bitter oatmeal cookie for the road. 

Under the kitchen light, her mother dies, and all she sees is Karen Wheeler biting her bottom lip as she watches him walk away, her eyes glued to his ass. 

Nancy doesn’t remember when her gun appeared in her hands, but her brain is surprisingly clear when she pulls the trigger. A bullet goes right between Karen’s eyes. 

Killing people is surprisingly easy when you see who they really are. 

Billy lies flat on the floor, hands cupped over his ears. 

“I’m not going to shoot you.” 

“You killed… your mother. God, Hicktown is fuckin’ crazy!” 

Boy, he really catches on quick. 

“You don’t know the half of it.” Nancy steps over Karen’s body and dials the number of Hopper’s secretary. She’s more likely to pick up than the Chief himself. “Hi, this is Nancy Wheeler. I need to talk to Chief Hopper. It’s important.”

She hears a grunt, and prepares the crocodile tears. Billy stares at her with a mix of awe and horror as her lower lip begins to tremble. “My mother st-started acting really strange. She turned the air conditioner down because she “liked it cold”. She-she loved the house being warm. Her voice came out all-all deep and empty. I looked into her eyes, and I knew my mother wasn’t…” she takes a shaky breath for added effect, then continues, “I knew she was gone. So I… I shot her. I don’t want to go to jail! I’m so scared, Chief.” 

“You did the right thing, calling me. I’ll stop by your house and take care of things, okay? Do you have anywhere else to go tonight?”

“I’m not sure. I-”

 Billy’s not on the floor anymore. His headlights are on. Crap.

I need to make sure he knows not to say anything. 

Nancy gets into the passenger seat and he sends her a dirty look. 

“You should really start locking your doors. It’s a safety precaution.”

“... I will keep that in mind. Now get out of my car.” 

“You said you were looking for your sister, right?”

“She’s not my sister.”

“But you said-” “I know what I said. Look, I’d prefer to forget everything said and done in your freakshow house, Wheeler.”

“Nancy.” 

“Fine. Nancy.” 

“I know where Max is.” 

“I’m not giving you shit in exchange for that information.” 

“Well I should hope not.” Has this sort of thing happened to him before?

“I know how to keep a secret. I just… why did you do it?” 

“We were always arguing. She never heard me. What pushed me over the edge was how she was with you. It made me want to puke. She should’ve stuck to her own age group.” 

Billy goes eerily quiet, hands gripping his steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. His shoulders slacken, and he unclenches his jaw to offer her a weary, appreciative smile. 

“Max is at the Byers’ house. Mike’s there, too. I can’t take him back to that house. He didn’t know… I don’t suppose you have room where you live?” Billy tenses up again. 

She takes that as a no.”

“I’ll be your guide to the Byers’. I’m sure Mrs. Byers wouldn’t mind us staying over.” 

He gives her a terse nod.

“Us includes you, Bonnie.”

Billy blinks several times, temporarily breaking out of his grim state. “Bonnie? Hold on, why the fuck am I not Clyde? Clyde’s a man.”

Nancy lets out a long sigh. “Do you actually care about that crap?”

“... No. I don’t,” he admits. “Bonnie has better hair anyway, so it fits.” 

“You think you’re funny, huh.” 

“I think I’m a fucking riot.” 

“Humor is subjective.”

“It was your joke!” 

****** “Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” 

Okay, now I wish I’d shot myself instead. 

“Nancy???” Steve exclaims, dragging his eyes away from Billy’s chest. 

So that’s why Billy took his jacket off. 

She snickers, shaking her head. Steve Alexander Harrington, you haven’t changed one bit. 

Billy seems to be glowing from Steve’s attention. Dorks. 

“What’re you doing here, amigo?”

“Yeah, I could ask you the same thing, amigo.” 

Oh, Steve, you’re not fooling anyone. 

“Looking for my stepsister. A little birdie told me she was here.”

Nancy awkwardly waves. I doubt they’re even aware I exist. 

“Huh. That’s weird. I don’t know her.”

“Small, redhead, bit of a bitch?”

“I heard that!” a girl yells from inside the house. 

“I wanted you to!” 

“You guys are going to wake up the whole neighborhood!” Nancy yells.

“I think we’re a little quieter than a gu- guy who’s bangin’ his wife.” 

“Are you two… friends or something?” Steve says, squinting like he’s come face to face with an impossible math problem. 

“Amigos in crime.” 

“You didn’t tell him any embarrassing stories about me, did you? Nance?” 

“Stories? What stories?” 

“It’s a school night. We should all head inside and get some rest.”

“Nance!” 

“Shut up, Steve.”

“Yeah, shut up, Pretty Boy.” 

“Keep the flirting to a minimum, there are children present.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “WHAT? FLIRTING?”

Billy cackles, slapping his knee, his face matching the color of his shirt. 

New hobby unlocked. 

*****

“Does Mrs. Byers have any grub around here? I’m gonna check the fridge.”

“Billy, I wouldn’t do that if I were you-"

“WHAT THE FUCK-”

[thesakuragarnet]

Touch-Starved

Summary: What does the hero do when the villain collapses?

Tags: s3xual tension, swearing, first kiss, sickfic, hurt/comfort, DabiHawks, Pre-Paranormal Liberation War Arc, enemies to lovers, Dabi-typical body horror and blood

Word Count: 2,904 words

AO3 link

Dabi never canceled. No matter what. He couldn’t let trivial things get in the way of his plans, and, in his eyes, that included his health. He didn’t care that he was running late; he would find some sort of excuse. In truth, he was walking as fast as he could; everything felt like Hell. He was supposed to change out his staples last night, but he didn’t have the energy or the stamina. He was pretty sure Twice had given the entire League the flu, as everyone in the hideout slowly developed the same symptoms. Dabi never really got sick; his immune system had to be rock solid given his condition. If it were any lesser, he’d be long dead. He always kept up with his surgical staples, changing them out before anything got infected. In the back of his mind, if he didn’t change and clean them tonight, he feared the worst would happen. 

Hawks checks his watch as he waits in the dark warehouse, wondering where his villain contact is lurking. He looks up and sighs, preparing to turn and fly back out of the skylight, when a harsh creak of a door echoes through the building. Dabi is in his normal disguise: a dark pullover hoodie zipped up all the way with dark aviator shades. 

“And I thought you weren’t gonna show,” Hawks smiles cheekily before registering the difference in Dabi’s normal demeanor. His gait is slightly slower, and his eyes seem a little droopier than usual.

"You feeling okay?" The hero asks cautiously, putting his hands in his pockets. Dabi doesn't answer, which is unusual. Hawks expected some snarky comment or backhanded insult. The villain remains silent, and he ever so slightly starts to sway. 

"Over...sl....slept," Dabi lies between jagged breaths, barely getting the last word out before Hawks realizes his knees are buckling beneath him. 

"Whoa, whoa!" Hawks exclaims as his feathers swiftly stop Dabi's head from cracking against the concrete floor. He hesitantly steps toward him, wary that this is some kind of ruse. However, Dabi is unconscious, weakly shivering. Something in the back of Hawks' brain whispers. This is the chance to get one of Japan's worst villains off the streets for good . He could kill him and leave him here. The Commission would want that. It'd be so easy in his frail state. Hawks' brain swirls between listening to the voice of his superior in his head and following what his heart compels him to do. 

...

...

Dabi slowly opens his eyes to find himself on a couch covered in a thin blanket with a cold rag on his forehead. 

"Ah! You're alive!" Hawks' chipper voice assaults his ears as the Pro Hero suddenly materializes beside him, staring down at him like he's some museum exhibit. 

"Where the fuck am I?" Dabi croaks, his voice coming out raspier than usual. 

"My apartment. You passed out on me, Dabs. I was worried I was gonna have to drag your ass to the villain hospital," Hawks chuckles, but his words make Dabi's blood run cold. 

"You wouldn't dare ," Dabi seethes, feeling his Quirk activate at the mere thought of it. That would make this entire plan fall to pieces. They'd take his blood. They'd trace him back to Endeavor. It would ruin everything . 

"I wanna stay on your good side, man. Of course I wouldn't do that to you," Hawks replies, oblivious to the wrath he just incited within his colleague. Before Dabi can respond, he feels a dull wave of nausea and dizziness sweep through his body, making his vision blur. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe through his nose. Normally, he can't feel pain. His nerves are all fried and dulled. Everything feels muted and faint to him. It has been since he woke up from his coma after Sekoto Peak. Whatever Twice had spread around the League was strong . Still. He needs to change out the staples. At least the ones on his back. He pulled some of them when he made a run with the League last week. If he didn't replace them, he'd risk going septic. Unfortunately, he's quickly realizing he won't be able to do that by himself in this state. 

“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath, feeling anxiety bubble up in the pit of his stomach. He’d brought a bag of supplies with him; he’d been planning on changing them out on the way back…if he made it that far. Suddenly, he feels the rag disappear and warm, soft skin replaces it on his forehead; he flinches, eyes snapping open when he realizes Hawks is feeling him for a fever. 

“You’re not quite burnin’ up, but I don’t know exactly how your Quirk impacts body temperature,” Hawks murmurs absentmindedly as he pulls the back of his palm away from Dabi. The touch was gentle. It was genuine concern. Dabi hadn’t felt such a thing since before his accident. Someone caring after him. His mouth is suddenly dry, and he can’t find the words. 

“You coulda told me you were sick. I wouldn’t have minded postponing our meeting,” Hawks points out, a touch of empathy in his voice. Dabi wrestles with the notion of whether his empathy is from his hero routine or from authentic compassion. They’d had a weird relationship ever since Dabi recruited him. There was an uneasy tension between the two. It had gathered at an all-time high the night of the Nomu attack in Kyushu when Hawks held a blade to his throat. But…this wasn’t the same Hawks that he met in that warehouse months ago. There was no cold-blooded, mistrustful stare…only worry…only tender warmth in his eyes. Dabi averts his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He can see his bag sitting on a red nest chair in the corner of the living room. Could he trust him to do this? Another shock of pain ebbs through Dabi's body, and he winces. He doesn't want to ask him for help. The mere thought is making his stomach churn even more. Hawks could easily kill him. He's literally giving him the opportunity to stab him in the back. The villain takes a deep, shuddering breath as he slowly sits up, ignoring the haze in his vision from the movement. 

"Bag," He demands without elaboration, pointing to the pack, and Hawks raises an eyebrow before complying. Without a word, Dabi carefully slips off his hoodie, and Hawks' eyes widen as he takes in Dabi's surprisingly toned form. The villain gets on his knees and turns around so that his back faces the hero. 

"I...I need you to change out the ones on the top part of my back," Dabi mumbles, hating that he has to even say it out loud. It feels pathetic. It takes a minute for Hawks to register just exactly what the villain is asking, but, when the lightbulb goes off in his head, he kicks off his shoes and gets on the couch, kneeling to face him as he unzips the pack. Carefully, he pulls out a pair of hemostats, a pack of gauze, a loaded surgical staple gun, and a water bottle filled with a clear bubbling liquid labeled "ANTISEPTIC". The hero blinks. It feels like a setup. Maybe some sort of test. There's no reason why the villain should trust him...unless it's truly a life-and-death situation that he's in no shape to handle himself. His eyes scan Dabi's back, lighting up in recognition when he sees the slightly pulled staples on the top of the scar line. There's ten of them. 

"You want somethin' to bite down on?" Hawks offers as he leans forward, positioning the first staple between the tips of the hemostats. 

"Used to the pain," Dabi rasps, and the hero sniffs before he carefully pries the staple free from Dabi's skin. Dabi grits his teeth as he feels the faint tug, and he hears Hawks trying not to panic behind him. 

"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! THERE'S BLOOD!" Hawks stammers, haphazardly tearing open the package of gauze as he watches the red bloom out from under his scars where the staple once held the skin in place. 

"They fucking hold me together, moron. Yeah, there's gonna be blood. You should've had the gauze ready and held it over before you pulled it out," Dabi snaps, and Hawks snorts. 

"Y'know, you didn't give me any instructions," The Pro retorts before pouring some of the bubbly liquid on a fresh gauze square. He peels back the blood-soaked piece of gauze and immediately replaces it. The faint hiss that results from the chemical reaction makes Hawks cringe, and Dabi winces. 

"Hold it for five seconds. Then staple it," Dabi mutters, and Hawks nods wordlessly. With a shaking hand, Hawks grabs the silver staple gun, eyeballing the target before he pulls away the gauze square. 

Ka-CHICK!

The familiar sound of the staple gun sends chills down Dabi's spine, and he grunts at the dull, muted pain. Tenderly, Hawks presses the other side of the antiseptic gauze onto the shining staple, dabbing away any residual blood. 

"One down," Hawks quips softly, and Dabi flexes out of habit, getting used to the new staple. The motion highlights the hidden muscles in his back, and the sight catches Hawks off guard. Hawks turns his attention to the second dirty piece of metal in the row. This one looks particularly painful, and half of it is already lodged out, the blood clotting to it in a messy scab. 

"This one's gonna be a bitch," The hero warns, and Dabi braces himself. When he removes the staple, the clot dislodges, and Hawks quickly covers up the open wound before it can start spurting. Dabi shudders as his vision blurs in and out. He feels so fucking weak. He was never gonna let Twice hear the end of it when he got back to the base. Dabi gulps, barely registering the click of the fresh staple being fastened into his skin. 

...

Ka-CHICK!

Dabi curses like a sailor as Hawks fastens the final staple into his back, and the Pro immediately starts blotting away the dried blood with the antiseptic. Breath hisses through Dabi's gritted teeth as the sting slowly numbs, and, finally, it's over. The second Hawks pulls the rag away, he puts his hand on Dabi's unburned shoulder, giving a light, comforting squeeze.

"Do I...can I put the Neosporin on 'em, too?" Hawks blurts. Dabi had almost forgotten about that. 

"Whatever, I guess," He huffs, wishing that he would stop talking; the situation couldn't possibly get even more awkward. He loathes the vulnerable position that he's found himself in. He should be intimidating the Pro, instead, he's being coddled by him. However, Dabi's bitter mindset dissolves when he feels Hawks' calloused hands massaging the scars on his back. It sounds cliché, but his touch feels like magic, expertly kneading into his flesh in a way that's subtly suspicious. After all, he must be doing this on purpose for Dabi to be able to register the sensation. It's thrillingly intimate...deliberate...intoxicating. The villain turns rigid, trying not to melt as Hawks' hands dance up and down his back, traveling significantly farther than the isolated scar line. 

"You're fuckin' tense," Hawks mutters under his breath as his hands find their way to Dabi's shoulders, thumbs pressing into the back of his neck. 

"Probably because my back is turned to a hero," Dabi grunts, letting the last word fall from his lips with a venomous twist. Hawks simply ignores him, a small smile playing at his lips when Dabi swallows a sigh as he forcibly rubs into the tense areas of muscle. Finally, he works his way back down to the scar line, and Dabi hears the familiar squelch of the tube. 

"You hadn't even put it on, yet?!" The villain scoffs, stealing a glance over his shoulder to see Hawks' shit-eating grin, but, when the hero catches him looking, his expression changes to ambivalence. 

"Quit complaining. You needed it. Don't you feel a little better?" Hawks replies before gently weaving his fingertips between the staples, and Dabi shudders at the faint cold sensation. The massage did manage to distract him a bit from the dull ache pulsing through his entire body. 

When Hawks removes his hands from Dabi's back, the villain takes in a deep breath as he turns to face the hero. It's only then that he realizes how close Hawks has gotten. Their faces are mere inches apart, and Dabi's heart skips a beat...for whatever reason. He doesn't know why he feels so flustered all of a sudden. Maybe it's the intimacy that he accidentally created? Maybe it's the fact that, for once, someone seems to care in a way that no one else ever has? A few seconds of silence slip by; the only sounds coming from Hawks' apartment are their tense breathing. In the dim lights of the apartment, Hawks practically glows; the lights reflect off of his feathers and highlight the gold flecks in his eyes. There's a glint in them that Dabi's never seen before. 

Time seems to stop...and...without a word...Hawks leans in...and kisses him. Dabi's eyes widen, and his breath catches in his throat; he freezes like a statue, his entire body tensing the moment that Hawks' impossibly soft lips sweetly press against his. He can only partially even feel the sensation, but it shakes him to the core. The hero's eyes are closed, and the villain takes note of how long his eyelashes are. He assumed the markings on the corners of his eyes were some sort of weird birthmark, but now he can see that it's just seamless eyeliner. His gut instinct is to push him away. To burn him to ashes. He should kill him for doing this. But...his heart twists in a way that makes blood well up in his fucked up tear ducts. Everything about this is wrong...but...why does it feel so right? Why does it feel relieving? Against every logical thought, Dabi's eyelids flutter shut, thin streaks of blood dripping down from them as he begins to kiss him back. Hawks smiles into the kiss, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat when he feels Dabi pushing closer, and he wraps his arms around the villain, making sure not to pull any of the fresh staples on his back. Dabi's sharply inhales and exhales through his nose as he gently lifts his hands up, using the little bit of strength he has to cup the side of the hero's face and wrap another arm around his waist. After what seems like an eternity, they both break from the kiss, cerulean eyes reflecting in gold. Dabi can't form words. His mind is swimming with a thousand thoughts of: 'You idiot! What are you doing?! That was...amazing... He's the enemy! You can't trust him! He's so pretty...' Until it finally lands on:

"Why the fuck would you do that?!" Dabi suddenly angrily blurts, his face heating up as a dull blush spreads across the healthy skin on his face. 

"Please. I don't care if you get me sick," Hawks smirks, rolling his eyes and waving his hand absentmindedly. 

"That's not why-I don't give a- fuck you!" Dabi stammers, getting progressively irritated as he tries to gather his hazy mind. He can't think clearly when he feels so shitty. 

"You're the one who leaned into it," The Pro shrugs, grinning smugly. Dabi scoffs, speechless. He can't stop staring at Hawks' lips. No one had ever touched him like that. Not in a way that felt like it meant something. But...what the fuck did it mean? Hawks' devilish smile fades when he notices the trails of blood streaming from Dabi's eyes, steadily dripping down the side of his face. 

"Dabi," Hawks mutters, his voice laced with worry as he points to the red streaks. Dabi blinks, immediate realization crashing down on him as he frantically thumbs the blood away, embarrassed that he let himself be so vulnerable and silently cursing himself for it. Another wave of nausea sweeps through his body, and he puts his face in his hands, trying to calm down. 

"Hey, I didn't mean to upset you," The hero murmurs apologetically, feathers drooping ever so slightly as he instinctively reaches an arm out to comfort him. Dabi flinches the moment Hawks' fingers brush against his shoulder, but, in a split second, he sinks into the gesture, letting himself get lost in the feeling of his touch. 

"I...I haven't felt this shitty in a long time," Dabi huffs, his voice muffled by his hands as he keeps his face hidden.

"I think you just need some rest," Hawks offers, giving his shoulder another tender squeeze, "You can crash here for the night if you want. I'm not sure if you should try to make it all the way back to wherever your colleagues are holed up."

Dabi sighs, mulling it over in his head. He knows that he's right. He'll probably just collapse again if he trudges back on his own...and he can't take Hawks back to the base yet. 

"You tell anyone about any of this, and I'll burn everything you love to the fucking ground," The villain grumbles, and the hero chuckles nervously. 

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

[rjmac211]

About: Reader (afab) was an idiot and answer Sam’s phone but she thought the Ghostface was a prank call and now she has shot up the kill list… or has she?

Reader’s POV

I groaned as I dropped my house keys for the 5th time. I just feel so tired, and I just want a coffee but I know since it is 9 pm Sam will not let a single drop of caffeine touch my lips. I love that woman but for fuck sakes I need to wake up especially if I have to deal with Quinn again. I mean fuck Sam has had me on the kitchen counter three fingers deep inside me in front of her and she still hits on me.

After I drop my keys for the 6th time I whined and hit my head hard on the door. “Fuck me,” I whined, and the door suddenly flew open, “with pleasure sexy.” Luckily, I caught myself before I could fall onto the floor or worse into Quinn. I groaned, “thank you for letting me in Quinn.” I walked inside flinching as her hand brushed against my ass as I passed her, “no problem. So tonight, just you and me. Tara is at a party and Sam has gone to join her. So Us… Alone… in my bedroom. How does that sound?” Quinn smirked and I rolled my eyes, “how about us… alone… you in your room and me in Sam’s. How does that sound?” I said and Quinn huffed as I made my way to the kitchen.

I turned on the kettle and got the coffee out. I walked to the mugs and looked for the one Mindy got me as a joke when I started to date Sam 10 months ago. As I found it I grinned. The cup had a cartoon picture of me and Sam on it and on the other side it says ‘Sam’s Future Baby Mama’. I blushed like hell when I got it but it was a very good cup and every time I used it Mindy would smirk, Tara would roll her eyes, Chad would grin at Mindy, Anika would shake her head, Ethan would blush, Quinn would glare at the cup and Sam…

Well Sam’s reaction was the best. It usually led to me being under her body with her cock splitting me in two and making me cum my brains out. For the first two months of us dating she wouldn’t let me see her naked in any state but that all changed when Quinn stated in front of the group that if Sam wasn’t woman enough to fuck me she would gladly do it for her. There are very few incident when I see fear cross the Woodsboro survivors faces but Tara, Chad and Mindy had the look of pure horror on their faces.

Thankfully Sam just stood up glaring at Quinn holding her hand out for me. When I grabbed it the tall goddess pulled me to her room. Mindy, Chad, and Tara ran for the door. Mindy dragging Anika with her. Leaving Quinn and Ethan confused. As soon as the door shut Sam had me pressed against it kissing me like a starving woman who wants nothing but to devour my body. That night she has me screaming and cumming. It was the best fucking introduction to Sam’s friend in her pants. Sadly, it didn’t stop Quinn from hitting on me no matter how hard Sam would mark me or make me scream while fucking me. Quinn would just not leave me alone.

When the kettle flicked off, I came back from my memories and started pouring the boiling hot water into the mixture of 8 teaspoons of coffee and 10 of sugar. I stirred ignoring the looks Quinn is sending me. I drank my coffee feeling the energy enter my body making me feel happier and excited for Sammy to come home. We haven’t had time to ourselves in 6 days and I miss the feeling of her body pressed into mine.

As I finished my coffee the door was thrown opened, and Tara stormed into the apartment then to her room. I frowned and looked back at the door seeing Mindy, Chad, Anika, Ethan and Finally Sam enter the apartment. I ran over to Sam and cupped her face, “baby are you okay?” I asked and dark brown eyes met mine and when I smelt the Soda on her I sighed and softly pulled her to our room. As we entered I stripped her off her sticky clothes and stripped my own making my way to the shower. “Come on darling let’s get you cleaned up,” I smiled.

We both got into her shower. I let the hot water run over both of us and I started rubbing the body wash into her body. “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked and Sam sighed, “why are you with me?” I frowned looking up at the taller woman. “Sammy… there are so many reasons why I am with you,” I told her and she tried to look away but I moved her head back to me. “You are fierce, loyal, protective. The day you met me you stood in between a gang of bikers and me. There is no one I would rather be with. You went out of your way to save a stranger just because a group of guys were being forceful.”

“Anyone would have,” Sam whispered and I shook my head. “My boyfriend at the time was working at the bar babe and he watched as they were groping me. He even said if they tipped good they could have me for the night. But then this beautiful goddess of a woman took me away from that situation. We may have been friends for 3 months before we started dating but I had fallen for you that night. You are my perfect knight come to recue me. I don’t care what the world thinks because I know you Sammy.”

Sam cupped my face and pulled me into a kiss. I sighed and kissed back wrapping my arms around her waist. When Sam pulled back, she stared at me, “I love you.” I pecked her lips, “I love you too Sammy. Now let’s get you cleaned so we can go sought everything out with your sister.” I finished up washing her then started on myself, “you go get changed and check the mail. I’ll finish up in here then maybe we can watch a movie with the kids.” Sam sighed, “but what if Tara-” I covered her mouth, “I’ll deal with everything okay Daddy now go get the mail.”

Sam moans as the title leaves my mouth, “whatever you want Baby Girl.” Sam gets out of the shower and I washed my hair and my body then got out feeling refreshed after my day at work. You wouldn’t think being a Receptionist for the hospital would be so exhausting but fuck. I quickly got changed into a hoodie of Sam’s and sleep shorts. When I walked out I see Mindy and Anika on the couch. “Hey Manika,” I said and both girls turned to me.

“Hey Mama, how Father doing?” Mindy teased and I rolled my eyes, “what happened at that party Mindy?” I asked and when Mindy told me I sighed but I couldn’t fight off the smile after hearing about Sam tasering a guy in the balls. “Turn on the tv I’m going to get Tara,” I told her. I was walking to Tara’s room when I got blocked by Chad who blushed and moved aside. Quinn was behind him and winked at me as she passed.

I opened Tara’s bedroom door, “hey Tara.” Brown eyes not unlike her sister’s looked at me, “I didn’t mean to yell at her so much I was just angry and drunk.” I nod, “I know you don’t want to hear this Tara, but Sam really is trying. I know how bad it is when your siblings leave you in a really bad situation but at least Sam came back and is trying her best. Those years won’t be forgotten but she’s willing to do anything to have you in her life.” Tara looked up at the roof, “do you know where your siblings are?” Tara asked and I sighed, “my second oldest brother the last I heard of him was shot dead in a robbery gone wrong and my sisters both have husbands and kids. My oldest brother though the last I heard of him was when he tried to blow up my car a year ago.”

“Why did he try to do that?” Tara asked very confused since I rarely talk about my family. “One of his work buddies caught me on a date with Sam and since I still carry his last name, he thinks I’m a disgrace to the family and I’d be better off dead,” I explain. Soon Tara was in my arms, and I played with her hair, “it’s okay Tara just don’t tell Sam about the car blowing up. I know she is overprotective and can annoy you so much, but she loves you more than I’ve ever seen any siblings love each other. Don’t push her away honey.”

I kissed Tara’s head the got up, “now let’s go watch some tv.” I smiled and Tara took my hand, and we went out to the lounge Tara sitting with Mindy and Anika while I was in the single seater. I relaxed slightly and closed my eyes.

—————————————————————

All I could hear was the silence in my ears as I heard that there had been a Ghostface attack. Sam started telling Tara to pack up that we were going to leave. We? Maybe not me. Did Sam trust me? I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t but right now, I’m too focused on the fact that right now my friends the people I consider family are most likely going to be attacked in the next few days and I don’t know who will make it out alive.

When Sam’s phone starts ringing Mindy, Chad, Tara, Sam and I all flinched. It always starts with the phone calls. When Sam ignores it everyone relaxes but not for long. Maybe this is just a prank and it’s just gone to far. When Sam’s phone rings again I grab it and before Sam could snatch it off me I answer it.

Me: Hello, you’ve reached the murder me hotline how can I help you?

Everyone froze at my words.

Ghostface: You aren’t Samantha

Me: Great guess genius was it the southern accent that gave it away?

Everyone looked horrified.

Ghostface: What’s your favourite scary movie?

Me: Do you all ever get sick of asking that question I mean it does have anything to do with the killing so what’s the point in knowing

Ghostface: Answer the question before I decide to gut you now

Me: Final Destination if we are talking Horror movies by default but if not then I’m going to have to say Nightmare on Elm St the Original

Ghostface: So you know how to keep your eyes open that will help you in the end as I murderer all of your friends then stab you with the knife used to kill them

Me: No please Mr. Ghostface I want to be a final girl

Everyone kept the look of utter horror on their faces. Sam looked like she was going to scream.

Ghostface: You are no Sydney Prescott

Me: And you are no Billy Loomis. Haven’t you lot learnt by now in the end you always die. You attack people get a few kills in and then the final girl kills you and ends up covered in your blood

Ghostface: You talk too much

Me: I know that’s why sometimes Sammy fucks me so hard I forget the English language

Tara fake vomits and Sam blushes while everyone else just kept staring as if I had two heads.

Ghostface: So, you are the girlfriend little Y/N never wanted by anyone. How’s Mom and Dad? Oh wait you killed both of them

Me: Damn bring up parents? Tell me Mr. Ghostface is it Daddy Issues or Mommy Issues it is usually one of the two. I mean Billy had Mommy, Stu had Daddy, Roman had Mommy, Charlie definitely had Mommy Issues, Jill as well then we go to Richie who fuck by the way Sam is in bed probably had both and Amber well it’s almost like the 2021 Ghostfaces just said why have one when you can have both. So Mr. Ghostface what do you have

Everyone was silent including Ghostface.

Me: I’m going to guess Daddy Issues there aren’t enough Ghostfaces with Daddy Issues. So what was it huh? Daddy not love you as much as a kid did he never tell you he was proud of you

Ghostface: I’m going to gut you like a fucking fish

Me: Damn nail on the head Daddy Issues you know most people go to therapy instead of killing people or-

Suddenly the line went dead, and I took the phone away from my ear, “Jeez I was just going tell him or he could find himself a Daddy to fuck him stupid.” Everyone turned back to looking at Horror and Sam quickly threw her phone back on the table and pulled me into her. I felt her body shaking and I held her. “He… He hung up? Ghostface doesn’t hang up,” Mindy whispers and all three survivors were looking at me but Sam kept her face nuzzled to the top of my head.

“Fuck you are so dead Mama,” Mindy stated and I rolled my eyes, “guys it was obviously just a prank okay it’s Halloween and the killings were probably just a coincidence. The guys in it were creeps a dad probably found out one defiled his baby girl and killed them.” Mindy and Tara looked at each other then back at me. “Sam my Dad wants to talk to you,” Quinn said and all our heads turned to see Quinn was on the phone and is now holding it out to Sam.

“This can’t be good,” I said and sat down on the single seater again. Tara moved into the chair and laid her full body weight on mine while gripping my shirt. “Hey Tara it’s okay nothing bad is going to happen it was just a prank,” I told her but she just held onto me tightly. “Okay I’ll come in,” Sam finished the call and I frowned up at her. “They can’t seriously think you had something to do with this right?” I asked and Sam sighed, “number one suspect baby girl. Everyone stay inside while I go sort this out. Don’t trust anyone.”

Tara ran to her room and Sam came over and pulled me up and into her arms whispering into my ear, “don’t trust Quinn.” I cuddled into her chest, “I love you too Sammy.” Sam kissed my head, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With that Sam left the apartment followed by Tara who I knew no matter what I said wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Does Sam really shut you up by fucking the English Language out of you?” Mindy asked and I smirked, “most of the time yes.” Quinn got up and slammed her door shut hard, “someone is pissed.” Chad said and I rolled my eyes, “yeah well someone should know that it was never going to happen. Come on let’s watch a movie.” Mindy’s eyes lit up, “Stab?” I rolled my eyes as Mindy set up the movie.

—————————————————————

I got a phone call from the Police station and I was out the door before anyone can stop me or even join me. I ran as fast as I could to the police station that was two blocks away. As I stopped in front I grabbed my inhaler and took a few puffs then made my way inside. When I got to the person at the front desk I slammed my hands on the desk, “where is Samantha and Tara Carpenter.” The boy looked terrified and ran around the desk and started to lead me threw the precinct.

As soon as I saw Sam I ran up and jumped into her arms. Sam wrapped her arms around me holding me close, “what are you doing here Baby Girl leaving the apartment is dangerous.” I pulled back and checked over her face then her body, “I don’t give a fuck.” When I concluded Sam was fine, I moved onto Tara who is now blushing at the attention. “Baby your heart is racing,” Sam whispered as her thumb traced over my pulse point.

“I ran here,” I said as I concluded that Tara was also not harmed. Sam was searching in her pockets quickly but I stopped her, “I already took it Sammy calm down.” Brown eyes looked at me concerned, “I’m okay.” There was a cough and we all turned, “Kirby.” Sam said and I looked the blonde up and down. She was about my height which is kind of strange to see but she’s more buff like by a lot. “Sam wishes I could say it’s good to see you but these are not good circumstances for reunions,” Kirby said.

“Sam didn’t do anything,” I spat, and Kirby turned to me. “I’m not here to play the blame game I’m here to catch this son of a bitch,” Kirby crossed her arms and I glared at the woman, “yeah but how many of my family will die before your team get their heads out their assess and stop pointing their fingers at my girlfriend.” My accent coming through the more I get pissed. “How do I know you’re not Ghostface and this is all an act?” Kirby smirked and I rolled my eyes, “I almost had an asthma attack coming here and let’s not forget it’s Sam we are taking about even when I try, she tosses me around like I weight nothing.”

“You love when I manhandle you baby girl,” Sam wrapped her arms around my waist and kissed my neck. “Very much so Daddy,” I whispered, and Sam tightened her grip. “What if you are just the one making the calls while Sam does the killing?” Tara finally stepped in, “you don’t stop I’ll do some killing starting with the woman insulting my sisters.” I smiled and Sam kissed my head, “are we free to go?” Kirby nod, “we will be in touch.”

We walked out of the police station and that is when we were barged by reporters all screaming things. Until I heard Gale Weathers voice. I watched as she blocked Sam’s punch but not Tara’s. I grinned at the sisters and pulled both of them away to a cab. “I didn’t ask for this to happen!” Gale called to us and we all turned around and I raised an eyebrow, “weren’t you the one that wrote the book in the first place?”

Gale flinched, “Sydney isn’t coming. She and Mark are taking the kids somewhere safe.” Sam nod, “good she does not need to go through this again.” Gale took a step forward and I got in front of Sam glaring at the woman, “you better get the fuck away from my girlfriend before I break your nose and with the way you wrote about my girlfriend I might also fracture your eye socket.” Gale flinched hard, “I didn’t-”

“You called my girlfriend a psychopath that will snap at any moment,” I spat and Gale looked kinda scared. “Where did you find this one?” Gale asked Sam fear in her eyes and Sam smirked, “A biker bar. Calm baby it’s okay let’s go back to the apartment.” Tara pulled me into the cab and Sam turned to Gale, “leave us alone Gale.” With that the cab drove off.

—————————————————————

“Now our suspect list. Ethan the shy dorky guy that no one believe his the killer because he is so shy and dorky,” Mindy said and I smirked at Ethan tried to defend himself. “Quinn the slutty roommate-” I grinned, “horror movie classic.” Mindy smiled at me and turned back to Quinn, “I mean you obviously have a hatred for Sam and with all of us gone no one could stand in your way of what you want.” I shivered and moved into Sam more.

“Anika,” Mindy turned to her girlfriend who blow her a kiss, “never trust the love interest.” Anika pouts then Mindy turned to me, “Y/N-” I cut her off, “came into your lives unexpecting. Got very close to Sam very quickly was only friends for 3 months before I was her girlfriend. Barely any of you know anything about my past besides that I have a shit family. I’m very good at threatening people. Not to mention even with everyone that comes to me and Sam and tells me I should leave her and I still don’t. I was also the first person Ghostface hung up on which is unheard of so very suspicious. I know most horror movies like the back of my hand including but not limited to all the Stab films. Oh, and I am also the love interest to Sam who is the main target of these attacks.”

Mindy had her mouth opened and Sam was stiff beside me, “I mean I was just going to say you are a love interest too but that um was very detailed.” I shrugged, “I know when I’m a suspect and honestly I wouldn’t blame any of you.” Ethan huffed, “yeah well why aren’t you four suspects I mean Chad and Mindy your best friend stabbed you in the back. Hell it was Tara’s girlfriend who attacked her. Clearly that causes some problems and I mean have you seen the stuff they say online about Sam-” I swung my fist sending him flying off his seat.

“I forgot to add my bad temper to the suspect analyses,” I said and Mindy, Anika and Tara were smirking while Sam looked at me with pure lust. “Okay Sam and I are going we will see you all at the apartment tonight safety in numbers,” I grabbed Sammy’s hand and pulled her along with me.

—————————————————————

I was panting in Quinn’s room knowing I don’t have my inhaler on me. When the neighbour put the latter across I stabled it. “Sam go across now,” I told her and brown eyes met my own, “no baby you need to go first.” I pushed her to the window, “now babe I’ll be there soon okay.” Sam quickly crossed the latter and I grabbed Mindy, “come on Mindy you are next then I’ll send Anika across.” Mindy frowned, “Y/N you’ll never make it across the latter you can barely breathe.”

“Move it Meeks,” I growled and Mindy got on the latter. I knelt in front of Anika, “hey love interest number one.” Anika smiled at me shakily, “I don’t want to die.” I kissed her head, “you won’t die.” When Mindy yelled out she’s over I grabbed Anika and told her not to look down. It took Anika a lot longer but when she was in Mindy’s arms I was about to climb on the latter when the door burst open.

Ghostface looked at me waving his knife, “you know my history Mr. Ghostface you know stabbing won’t kill me.” He raced for me and I quickly rolled between his legs and ran out the door he just broke. “BABE!” I could hear Sam screaming. I kept running until I was at the front door. “Don’t worry Y/N/N I have other plans for you,” I heard the voice changer then I felt a stab in my neck but I felt more like a needle. I slowly started to feel too tired to keep my eyes open. “Sleep Princess and when this is all over you’ll be mine,” I heard Quinn’s voice and I whimpered.

—————————————————————

I can’t tell how long I’ve been in here but I felt cold and wet every time the shocks from the last electrocution went down they’d just shock me again. All I can see is darkness and the smell of old popcorn. It’s gross and I just want Sammy here. But if here is where I die then I can 100% say I do not regret how I got here. I will never regret Sammy and my time together I just hope she doesn’t take it to bad when she finds my body… if she finds my body. Ghostface will show her though I know it.

Suddenly there was light and I whimpered shutting my eyes, “it’s time Cowgirl.” Ethan grinned at me with a knife in his hands. “C-cow-wgir-l-l?” I was shaking and my stutter is only getting worse. “Well you are from Texas aren’t they just a bunch of cowgirls down there,” Ethan lifted me up out of the chair. “Come on time to see the bitch who murderer my brother,” Ethan spat and dragged me out putting his mask back on. He was basically dragging me down the stairs and when we got to a big theatre I see Sam and Tara surrounded by Ghostfaces.

“Y/N!” Tara and Sammy yelled and I was pushed to my knees in front of them, “th-this is b-b-bett-tter fami-ily reunion t-the-en my f-firs-s-st o-ne.” I stuttered and the murder in Sam’s eyes is enough to burn this place to the ground. “What the fuck did you do to her!” Wayne chuckled, “just a bit of Electro shock therapy she needs to be the perfect partner after all and she can’t exactly do what she has been doing.”

“F-Fuc-ck y-you,” I spat and Wayne glared at me, “see such a mouth but what did she say about her mouth?” I paled and one of the Ghostface’s chuckled. Quinn. “She just needs the English language fucked out of her,” I flinch and Sammy growled, “you touch her and you’ll see how much of a Loomis I truly can be.” Wayne laughed, “we already have… see you killed my son… my eldest son… taking your whore isn’t enough of a punishment.”

“Dad-ddy is-s-ssues tim-mes two,” I stuttered and Ethan growled, “I don’t have Daddy Issues!” I smirked, “y-you the m-m-os-st.” Wayne growled, “stop that she is for your sister. She at least managed to kill someone.” Ethan took of his mask, “it wasn’t my fault she would be dead if Quinn didn’t want her so badly.” Quinn huffed taking off her mask, “why jealous cause not even your Alpha boyfriend wanted your pathetic ass instead he wanted to go after his lesbian best friend.” I grinned to myself finding so much enjoyment in their fighting. “ENOUGH YOU TWO! Fuck this is why Richie was better then you neither of you can do anything right,” Wayne spat and cocked his gun pointing at Sam and Tara.

“Any last words?” He growled and Sam stared into my eyes, “I will kill ever last one of them for you Baby Girl and then when I’m covered in Quinn’s blood I will fuck you without protection until there is a baby inside you.” Tara huffed and Quinn roared running at Sam who quickly put her in a headlock grabbed Quinn’s own knife staring at me as she stabbed Quinn in the gut then ripped the knife threw flesh blood until I reached her neck then Sammy pulled the knife out and her wounds were spurting out.

Ethan and Wayne yelled out as Quinn’s body dropped to the floor lifeless. Wayne raised his gun but Tara kicked it out of his hand having moved without either man noticing. Tara grabbed the gun and handed it to Sam who smirked, “what’s your favourite scary movie Detective Bailey?” The older man now had fear clear in his eyes, “Stab.” He whispered and Sam chuckled, “can these guys not watch another horror movie?”

Suddenly both men attacked Sam took on Wayne while Tara ran up to Ethan tackling him to the ground pressing a knife to his neck, “we went in order didn’t we. First your older brother. Sam slit her throat open until he was choking on his own blood. Second was your older sister who didn’t know to not touch what wasn’t hers. Well you saw what Sam did. Do you know that is one of the most painful ways to die? Now it’s you turn Ethan. Die a fucking virgin!” Tara growled and stabbed the knife into his mouth and threw the other side of his head.

I heard a chuckle from Sam and looked at her. She had Wayne staring at his kids, “look at that. No wife because you killed her and because of you all your kids are dead. No one else but you in your bloodline. I’ll tell you what I told your eldest son as I slit his throat. You don’t fuck with the daughter of a Serial killer.” Sammy shot him in the back of the head his last sight of his dead son underneath Tara.

“T-tha-at was h-h-hot-t,” I stuttered and Sammy went around shooting them all in the head again. When Sammy crouched next to me she cupped my face, “I thought you were dead.” She whispered and I shook my head and Tara sighed, “I’m just going to say it thank god for Quinn’s obsession with you.” I rolled my eyes and Sam growled picking me up bridle style, “come on let’s go get her check out.”

“So you know if she’s healthy enough to fuck your baby into her,” Tara teases and I blushed while Sam chuckled, “exactly. A promise is a promise baby girl.” Sam purred into my ear and I moaned and rested my head against her neck, “not com-mpl-lain-ning-g.”

[salt-warrior]

Ok so basically Kai starts getting really bad headaches at one point not knowing why. (Like REALLY bad. Like makes him vomit bad) and he tries to just bear through whenever it happens and hide the pain, but sometimes he will be talking to torin or something and either have to stop talking or it gets hard for him to talk. Then one day it happens torin just pauses and goes “you know, your dad had migraines too.” Then Kai realizes what it is and goes to the doctor and also learns more about his dad

So I wrote half of this forever ago and then decided to finish tonight. Woohoo! I also took a lot of liberties with this prompt, but I like where it wound up, and I hope you do too:)

Burden

Summary: Kai feels like he's failing as an emperor. Torin reassures him. Set during Scarlet. (WC: 1.1k)

Kai pressed his palms to his eyes, trying his very best not to whimper. He had a two-hour digital conference meeting in less than ten minutes, but the idea of looking at a screen for even two seconds made him want to puke. His head was throbbing and his brain felt like a mess of knotted string and he just wanted to lie on the floor and cry.

“I can’t do it,” Kai whispered to himself. He pressed his forehead into his desk, wrapping his arms about his head. “I can’t do it. I can’t do it.” Tears began to slip from his eyes. His chest felt tight with misery. Somehow, his head hurt even more than before.

A knock sounded at his office door. Horror washed over Kai as he scrubbed at his eyes, but the pain within his head stole most of his anxiety away. What did it matter anymore? He was failing everything. He was failing with the search for Linh Cinder, he was failing to make peace with Queen Levana, he was failing to give his people safety. And yet, Kai still didn’t want people to know.

“Your Majesty?” Torin’s voice called through the door. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Kai replied. “Yes, I mean. Everything is fine. I know I’m running late. I just . . . I just need a minute.” He balled his fists and pressed them to his eyes, trying to relieve the pain there. If only he could get rid of this pain. If only he could find a way to concentrate on something other than the gut-twisting, life-quenching pain he was feeling.

The door opened, and Torin stood silhouetted in the frame. He flicked on the light, but when Kai gasped, he shut them right off again. Quickly, he closed the door then moved to Kai’s side.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

Kai looked at his advisor, barely managing the feat despite the darkness of the room. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to put on a brave face and tell Torin he had it under control. He wanted to be able to do everything on his own. He wanted to be his father.

He couldn’t be his father.

“My head,” Kai said. He pressed his palms to his eyes once again and tucked his knees up to his chest. “My head is killing me. I can barely think of anything other than the pain. And even if I could, looking at my port is agonizing. I don’t know why, but the light just . . . it hurts. And standing feels about as possible as winning this war right now.” He sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to cry again. “I can’t do it, Torin. I’m not my father. I’m a failure. The net is right. I’m too young and inexperienced. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m a failure, Torin. I am a failure.”

Torin pulled up a chair beside Kai, then rested his hands on Kai’s face. Then, without another word, he pulled Kai into a hug. A sob broke through Kai’s throat.

“You are not a failure,” Torin said. “You may not be your father, but you are not a failure. The Commonwealth needs you, Kai. I’m sorry that you were given a near impossible job—it is not what you deserve—but you are the only one who can do this.”

“But I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He patted Kai on the back and then sat back in his chair. Kai brushed his hands messily across his face. Torin watched him, a sad look in his eyes. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“I don’t know,” Kai said, rubbing his nose with a tissue. “Last night.”

“Not the last time you fell asleep. The last time you got more than a couple hours at a time. When was the last time you had a proper sleep?”

Kai laughed, though it was a mad sound. “Definitely not since before all of this.” Kai gestured at the desk, and while there was nothing there, Torin seemed to understand. “I don’t have time, Torin. People are dying every day of Letumosis, and if that’s not enough, now there are wolf-people from the moon attacking Earthens as well. We still haven’t found Cinder, and I’m not sure if we ever will. Levana is breathing down my neck for a marriage alliance. And I’m scared. There are billions of people looking to me to take care of them, and I don't know if I can do it.”

Torin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Kai felt almost as he had as a child, looking up into Torin’s lined face, trying to understand why his father’s advisor was so serious, why his eyes always appeared exhausted. Now he was the one looking down upon his advisor, wishing for that seriousness—Torin’s wisdom—to bleed into his veins and pull him through this crisis.

“Your father was scared too.”

Kai scoffed, then coughed, choking on the excess phlegm in his throat. “Only at the end.”

“Always,” Torin corrected. “And his head hurt too. All the time.”

“No it did not.”

“Kaito,” Torin said, “your father was not a god. He was not a pillar of strength. He was just a man—like you. Life tore him down, and he chose to build himself back up. Over and over and over again. From the day he was born, he was destined to rule billions, and there wasn’t a day that went by in which that knowledge did not petrify him. Did not weigh upon him. Did not threaten to crush him.” Torin placed his hand on Kai’s shoulder. “In the end, his biggest regret was leaving you with that same burden. With the sleepless nights and headaches that feel like the end of the world. But he knew you could do it, and so do I.”

“But what if I fail?”

“Then this world never stood a chance.”

Kai let out a choked breath, then placed his hands over his face, wiping the moisture from his cheeks. Then, as if possessed by some strange, unintelligent demon, he laughed. “Stars, Torin,” he said, “how did we get here?”

“Now that is a question I cannot answer.”

Kai laughed even harder.

Torin stood, but the corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’ve had your meeting pushed back by half an hour. Close your eyes. Breathe. Build yourself back up. Would you like me to send Nainsi up with anything? Tea? Soup?”

“Tea would be lovely,” Kai said, leaning back in his chair. “Thank you, Torin.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” Torin gave him a slight bow. “I’ll send her with something for the pain in your head as well. It will only be temporary, but hopefully everything that’s happening will only be temporary.”

“May we all hope,” Kai said, closing his eyes and feeling strangely hopeful.

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

A Rather Magical Super Sexy Secret

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 711

Summary: Dieter surprises you with a magazine photoshoot, except he forgot to tell you about it

Warnings: a sexy photoshoot and the consequences when that happens

Check out masterlist here

While waiting at the supermarket checkout, you were aimlessly checking over your shopping list. Everything was checked off, but your brain just had to check again. And they had Dieter’s favourite snacks on special, so you decided to get extra. He’d been working really hard the past few weeks, mostly coming home late, only able to kiss you goodnight before completely zonking out. Tonight, you decided to treat him to a nice hearty dinner as you rightly assumed he hasn’t been able to eat properly. Your double-checking reverie was interrupted by a bunch of girls twittering like harpies.

“Oh my god, look how hot he is!”

“I want to be his controversial young girlfriend!”

You rolled your eyes and looked over to the offending culprits, but you stopped when your eyes caught the object of their desire: starring back at you from a magazine was the face of your boyfriend. It felt like you were suddenly hit in the face with a shovel. Before you got buried in six feet of confusion, your attention was called by the checkout in front of you becoming free. Again, Dieter’s face was staring at you from the magazine rack in front of you, so you decided to add one to your conveyor belt of purchases.

The checkout lady looked at the cover of the magazine while she scanned it. She had that look like one would to an indulgent bar of chocolate.

“Mmm, that is a man right there,” she said, “I’d like to cover him in whipped feta, feed him pomegranates and use him like a fine charcuterie board!”

Well that was a new, certainly interesting one.

You thanked her as you grabbed your grocery bags. As soon as you got in your car, you opened the pages of the magazine. You were greeted with arms. Very well-defined arms. You saw Dieter’s arms every day and you knew he’d been working out a bit more lately, but this felt like you were looking at your boyfriend with newly replaced eyeballs.

You quickly shut the magazine and threw it in your tote bag before it burst into flames, sending you into the fiery lusty hell you were currently feeling.

Dieter greeted you when you pulled up your car in the driveway. He seemed more well rested, and he just had to be wearing one of his Henley shirts. You hated those shirts purely because they made every muscle of his fine body stand out which you certainly did not need right now.

And now he was helping you carry in the groceries, making his arm muscles stand out even more. You could not stop staring at them. You would walk into a pole if there was one for how much you kept staring at his arms.

You followed him into the house, and he lifted the bags onto the kitchen counter, making his shirt ride up a little, giving a peek at his cute tummy.

“Actually, could you put the bags over there?” you asked him.

He replied with a nonchalant shrug and moved them over to the other side of the kitchen. You followed his arms, mesmerised at the material of the sleeves stretching and straining out.

“Sorry, I meant over there,” you said, almost hypnotised.

Dieter put the bags back onto the other counter and swooped in to pick you up, breaking you out of your state. “What is up with you honey cakes? You’ve been staring at my arms since you got in.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Why didn’t you tell me about the photoshoot?”

The realisation slowly spread over his face. “Oh shit, that’s out already? I wanted it to be a surprise.”

He slowly placed you back to the earth, apology written all over him.

“It was a surprise, a nice surprise,” you pulled the magazine out of your tote bag and showed him. “I mean damn, I see you naked all the time, but this…” you started to fan yourself with it.

“Wow, you really are swooning” he moved, ready to pick you up again, “Have I made you weak in the knees?”

“Not yet. Did they let you keep the boots?”

“Oh, I got to keep everything.”

“Okay, now I’m weak in the knees.”

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @brilliantopposite187

[heliads]

whole

Nights pass in the Graveyard. Some are more interesting than others.

a/n my unhinged haycon agenda never ends

masterlist

Connor only ever comes for Hayden after dark.

That makes the whole affair seem far more treacherous and explicit than it truly is. In reality, Hayden stays too late in the ComBom trying to find some sign that other AWOLs are out there still alive long enough to run, then Jeevan or someone else will send Connor out to track him down and make him rest.

Connor’s job, then, is only to appear out of the murky darkness of the Graveyard, to stand in the frame of the door and tell Hayden to go to sleep. That’s all it should take, really. Connor doesn’t leave, though. Not when he should.

Instead, on nights like tonight, Connor shows up and closes the door behind him. It never shuts all the way– Connor likes to leave it open just a crack, enough that the ghostly sound of Risa’s piano can make its way inside and turn their rattling communications jet into a music box.

On nights like tonight, Hayden pushes his chair away from the computer with a flourish, and Connor sits on the desk next to him, stretching out on any available surface that isn’t covered in papers or pens. Connor will arch a brow, and ask, late night again? so Hayden can roll his eyes and spit out some bravado about how radio heroes never give up the fight, you know. 

Only then, once they’ve both said the established opening lines, can they ever speak to each other like they please. It’s a strange routine, and even though it happens every night, it never fails to disrupt whatever tentative peace Hayden had managed to channel for the evening. Every time Hayden is alone in that small metal room with only Connor and the uneven glow of the fluorescent lighting to keep him company, he can take nothing for granted. Least of all his own irrational heart.

Connor swings his legs back and forth off of the desk. “Listen to anything interesting today?”

Hayden shrugs as casually as he can. “Nothing major. Tons of important people all clamoring for my capture, of course. I’m extremely popular with the parts pirates and unwind camps since I’m such a top tier rebel, you know. I’m basically a hot commodity.”

“I know,” Connor says, laughing once then falling silent. “I know.”

Connor’s eyes are wide and dark in the half-lit shell of the ComBom. Hayden can still hear Risa’s quiet chords echoing across the Graveyard. It makes him insane, a little bit. He wants to shout to anyone who can hear, Unwinds and Juvey-cops, everyone in the world– who cares about the rumors, whatever stories they’ve cooked up about the Akron AWOL and Risa Ward? Hayden’s got Connor right here, and he’s never letting him go. Connor would never let him go.

He turns abruptly to Connor, grasped in the throes of some sort of wild excitement he can barely name, much less explain. “What parts of me would you take if I was divided? My parents preferred to split me in half rather than let either of them have custody. If I was stuck between you and someone else, what pieces of me would you want?”

Connor’s eyes flicker shut briefly with horror. “That’s sick, Hayden. I’m not answering that.”

Hayden reaches across the gulf between them to swat Connor on the shoulder. He’s charged with this strange energy, practically euphoric. “You have to. What parts would you want?”

He moves to strike Connor again, but Connor reacts quickly this time, seizing Hayden’s hand before he can make any more contact. He doesn’t drop it, though, and keeps the fingers firmly interlocked with his own. 

“I’d want your eyes,” he says at last. “They’re nice. Also, I know too many parts pirates who take the eyes as trophies. I don’t want to stare down some creep and see you looking back at me out of the face of a monster. If I have your eyes, though, I want your brain, so I know it’s really you who’s looking. And if I have your brain, I need your heart, so you know it’s me. Out of respect to your dedication to your braces, I’d take your teeth. Although I would make sure they took them out before the— before they divided you. No one deserves to die with metal in their mouth.”

Connor takes a wild, desperate breath. The air is charged now, like whatever freak energy was inhabiting Hayden has moved on to engulf Connor as well. They’re both practically vibrating with the need to continue, the urge to keep going until all words are both said and then heard. 

“I need your hands too,” Connor continues, squeezing Hayden’s fingers between his, “for radio stuff, you know. Arms for strength. Your lungs and voice box so the transmissions can continue like normal. Then I would ask for legs, and ribs, and hair, and anything else I could get my hands on. I wouldn’t let anything go. Whoever I’m splitting you with can die over it, I don’t care.”

One more deep lungful of air. Connor’s grasp on Hayden’s hand is almost painful, but it’s a good kind of pain, reminding him that he’s still here, that this is real. 

“I wouldn’t leave a single piece behind. Not if it was you. I want you, Hayden, and I want you whole.”

Hayden almost chokes on it. “You can’t promise that,” he whispers.

“I can,” Connor asserts, “I can and I will.” He leans back, proud and absolutely sure of himself. “Who would stop me?”

That, of anything, slows the tumultuous rhythm between Hayden’s ribs. There are a lot of things that could stop them. A raid of the Graveyard. Scores of Juvey-cops. The simple truth that neither of them were meant to live long enough to see their twenties. The night is not a good time for confessions, even if they were made with good intentions. When you open up your heart to sweet words, the deadly thoughts can get in as well.

But for now, Hayden is a boy who loves a boy, he is a boy who is loved by a boy like Connor, and he is never, ever going to change that. They’ll get up in the morning and forget about tonight, or maybe they’ll both keep the words they’ve said on loop in their heads just like Hayden always does, but either way, Hayden feels complete. For someone who’s destined to be unwound, that’s pretty much paradise.

unwind tag list: @schroedingers-kater, @locke-writes

[keyh0use]

Kinktober Day 16: Gun Play

Threats, gun f*cking, name calling, unprotected sex, Rafe calling Barry baby for once. Consensual. Proofread 1 time

Barry hated horror movies, that was an indisputable fact. No matter how corny or camp or cinematographic, Barry hated horror movies. Intentionally scaring himself, subjecting himself to brains splattering and innocent victims screaming in petrified glamour was not for him. But it was for Rafe. Rafe was a glutton for all things scary; movies and attractions alike. Usually, the boy would settle down and watch whatever new, disgusting flick had come out while Barry was at work. On rare occasions, when a film required—according to the kook—to be watched at night, Barry would retire to bed early to read, much to Rafe's displeasure.

Then came October and Rafe's eagerness won the older man over, and suddenly Barry had unintentionally entered into a month-long movie marathon. Each night was a new film, Barry's choice and then Rafe's. Barry wasn't much into movies, never was. He didn't have a TV growing up and he didn't like theatres, but there were some classics like The Godfather and some old westerns he used to watch at his grandparents house, which he was admittedly quite excited to share with his boy. And Rafe—Rafe watched the hell out of those movies. He sat quietly, ate his snacks and was fully engaged, fully prepared to share his thoughts afterwards. So Barry grit his teeth during the gore and limb-cutting, suppressing the urge to gag as organs spilled out. Most of the movies were franchises, and they seemed to get more violent as the numbers rose and it became more difficult every other day to control his rolling stomach. But it was just gross. Barry could deal with gross, after all, once it was over it was over. No big deal. Until the night before last when Rafe told his man in a light tone, I chose something a little different this time, not really gory or anything so I thought you might like it and then put on the most twisted, fucked-up film Barry's ever had the displeasure of watching. True to word, it wasn't overly gory but boy did it leave a lasting impression, the dealer glancing over at his boyfriend in horror to see a sweet looking smile pointed back. Only twenty or so minutes in and Barry was squeezing his eyes shut and saying, Rafe, no, while making a grab for the remote. Poor baby, cooed Rafe, wrapping the older man up in his embrace, blocking Barry from turning the movie off. You scared? No, bitch, I don't wanna watch some kid the same age as my sister die, Barry snapped. It took a second for the words to sink in and Rafe to realise the sister in reference was Wheezie, a genuine smile gracing his face then as he cuddled in closer, reassuring Barry it wasn't that bad. Only Rafe had lied, and while Barry sat and took it, he held a grudge for the last 48 hours. It was the boys turn once more and he returned to his roots, putting on the third Texas Chainsaw Massacre. "Come sit on my lap," demands Barry, nodding down at his clothed crotch. "But—" starts Rafe, pointing limply at the screen. Barry warns, "Not askin', sweetheart."

The same old song and dance played on screen, unsuspecting people rolling in from out of town and discovering the oddities within the backwards Texas countryside. Barry could barely focus on that, though, too busy guiding the kooks ass back and forth over his prominent erection.

Rafe is genuinely trying to enjoy the movie, though he's seen it a dozen times before but it grows more difficult the harder his dick gets, straining against the confines of his pajama pants.

The sound of a chainsaw startles Rafe's gaze back to the screen, attention slipping again and again. They're supposed to watch the movie, that's what tonight is about. All the kook yearns for is traditions, something the Cameron family never upheld around holidays.

Ward's idea of tradition was his son following in his footsteps; joining the family business, finding a nice partner to settle down with and providing grandchildren.

Rafe has fulfilled one of three on that list but it didn't matter, that wasn't what he wanted. No, the kook has dreamt of carving pumpkins and decorating the whole house for the season and taking corny couples photos for years. For the most part Barry was completely onboard, willing to be dragged around from apple orchards to corn mazes—but had ultimately drawn the line on anything with haunted in the name.

Movies were a compromise and Rafe wanted this to be a thing too, cuddling up on the couch with snacks to share their favourite films like a date every night of the month.

And it wasn't a one-way deal, either because not only did Barry seem to like spending the extra, intentional and uninterrupted time together but Rafe already booked a December getaway for them up north after the older man let it slip that Christmas was his favourite.

I've always wanted to see snow, y'know? Barry had said. See like, one of them parades, it's stupid or whatever I just never did that shit as a kid.

Rafe was determined to have set in stone traditions for every damn holiday no matter what.

"Get undressed," orders Barry.

Gesturing to the TV, Rafe says, "But—"

"I'm not asking." Each word is enunciated and firm, leaving no room for argument.

Rafe plants his socked feet on the cold floor to stand, hauling his shirt off and then makes quick work of removing his pajama pants, both articles making a small pile on the arm of the couch.

A shiver ran down the boy's spine despite the quaint room being warm and inviting, the feeling of being completely exposed for Barry's pleasure always sending a thrill through Rafe.

Rough hands covered in callouses and healing cuts drag down Rafe's outer thighs, the older man letting out an appreciative noise as he trailed hungry eyes over the curve of the kooks ass.

"Can I sit?" asks Rafe quietly, belly swooping when Barry leans forward to press a chaste kiss between the dimples at the base of his back.

Barry answers easily, "If you turn around."

Those hands never leave his body as Rafe obeys, turning and sinking his knees into the couch cushions on either side of his man's hips. Rafe is vaguely aware the movie is still playing but it doesn't matter. Nothing does. Not when Barry looks at him like that.

The older man's attention never strays, both palms slipping around to grab a handful of Rafe's ass, dragging him forward until there's no space between them, Barry's sizeable cock wedged up against where the boy wants him most.

Rafe loops his arms around Barry's neck and leans in for a kiss which is eagerly accepted and he's so focused on the traces of beer lingering on the tongue fucking into his mouth to notice anything else, like Barry reaching beneath a throw blanket.

That's until cold metal is pressed into the small of Rafe's back and he's jumping from the contact, gasping quietly.

Rafe's face scrunches up in confusion and he makes a move to look over his shoulder, stopped only by Barry tutting in disapproval.

"Eyes on me, country club," Barry drawls, head cocked to the side.

Not one to disobey, blue eyes cut to the handsome man in front of him and Rafe tries to pinpoint what he's gotten himself into. "Barry?" the kook cautiously asks.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Rafe says, "The movie—"

"This is for the movie," assures the older man, blunt piece trailing up Rafe's spine. "Wanna enhance your experience."

"You gonna put on a gross mask?" Rafe jokes, but there's a nervous tremor running through him, practically vibrating in his man's lap.

Barry offers a sweet smile, dripping with insincerity. "Something like that," he says.

When Barry's fingers graze against the kooks shoulder he makes the mistake of looking, breath catching at the sight of the black barrel that digs into his jaw until he's forced to meet dark brown eyes again.

Barry watches—watches how Rafe's chest expands with a deep breath, how he gives a harsh swallow and how his attention is shifty.

"You wouldn't hurt me," states Rafe, voice wobbly.

"I'm trying to scare you. What, this ain't scary enough for ya'?" The tiny metallic click of the safety being flicked off is unbelievably loud. Barry leans in close to whisper, "And I think we both know I would hurt you."

Rafe's reaction is immediate, tears springing into his blue eyes and mouth slack in shock. The end of the gun is gently caressing his blushing cheekbone and it feels heavy. It feels loaded.

"I've never seen you this scared before," mumbles Barry in awe, landing a sharp, swift slap to Rafe's ass that has the boy whimpering. "You feel how hard you're making me, baby boy?"

The boy looks like he has something to say but it's cut short when a scream from the TV tears through their moment, making Rafe bounce in Barry's lap with a panicky shout.

Barry let's his head loll back for a moment, eyes fluttering shut and then his attention is back on his baby. "That felt good," he comments. "Would make you ride me dry if I didn't have other plans, but fuck I'd kill to hear you scream like that again."

Fingers curl at the base of Barry's skull, Rafe knocking their foreheads together and whispering, "Stop." And gets the barrel nudged against his temple hard. "Please. Please, baby, stop."

It isn't often the kook refers to Barry by anything other than his name and when it does happen, substances or lack of sleep are usually to blame. And while it doesn't bother the dealer that Rafe has no pet names for him, it certainly makes him fucking melt when they slip out on these rare occasions.

"Say it again," prompts Barry, tapping the gun to the boy's plump bottom lip.

The word please is carried on a shaky exhale, watery eyes pleading.

"Say it and maybe I'll make this fast," Barry says with another, more intentional shove of the gun. "Then again, you know how much I love hearing you beg."

Rafe is looking at the older man with an innocent sort of curiosity, wet lashes clumped and lips slick where they're touching the end of the barrel, panting heavily. It's uncanny how familiar this all feels to the first time the kook tasted his cock—on his knees in this very room, a little nervous and a whole lot turned on—and that memory has Barry suggestively pushing forward, knocking metal against teeth.

And then the boy does something unexpected; Rafe tilts his chin up and lets his mouth fall open wider, tongue pressed flat to the underside of the barrel as he drags it up teasingly, watching Barry's reaction through hooded eyes.

Barry pushes forward without permission, sliding the gun further into the boys mouth until pink lips are stretched, spit collected at the edges and dripping.

"You know how many people I've gone after with this thing?" asks Barry, shoving the barrel deeper until Rafe gags. "All the pain this gun has caused and here you are, deepthroating it like a fucking slut." The degrading word has the kook moaning sinfully around metal, like he's tasting the dealer's come instead of gunpowder. Reaching down to fist Rafe's steely cock with the hand previously resting on the boy's ass, swollen tip soaked where Barry rolls the pad of his thumb lazily, he says offhandedly, "Could empty the clip in you right now, you know that?"

The threat has Rafe yanking his mouth off the gun, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to the end of the barrel. "No, you wouldn't, I know you wouldn't," he rushes out, wide eyes searching his man's face.

The TV flashes with a bright burst of white light that reflects off the gold piece in Barry's mouth when he grins. "Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't," the older man drawls with a tilt of his head. "I love ya'—"

"I love you," Rafe interrupts, pointedly avoiding looking at the gun aimed at his head.

Barry hums lowly at that. "Know that, pretty baby, wouldn't doubt that shit," he says sincerely. "But we both know I also love hurting you...and making you cry, making you bleed. Fuck, you know that shit gets me goin'."

And now Rafe is scared.

Sure, Barry has never threatened to kill the kook before and while their relationship is built off trust, it's obvious some of the terror in those blue eyes is real, which is thrilling to the drug dealer.

"Please," Rafe whimpers.

"Please what? Please keep going?" Barry asks but doesn't care for an answer, promptly ignoring the kooks head shake. "Sure, country club, we can keep goin'. Lay down."

Rafe shifts nervously, knees squeezing his man's hips. "Will you put the gun down?" he mumbles.

"Lay—" starts Barry, tone stern as he presses the gun to the boys jaw. "Down. Now, Rafe."

Letting out a stuttered alright, okay, Rafe carefully falls off the older man's lap onto a neighboring cushion and lays back, legs instinctively falling open when Barry fully turns to kneel.

Barry wastes no time taking advantage of their new positions, both hands—one rough but warm and the other wielding a cold, hard weapon—exploring Rafe's exposed body. The Kook jumps when his nipple is tweaked, back arching just a little off the springy futon as the edge of the barrel trails achingly slow towards his hard cock.

Rafe's chest rises with each ragged breath, chin tucked down and eyes laser-focused on the gun getting closer and closer to his most sensitive area. "Barry?" the boy questions with an air of uncertainty.

"Yes?" the drug dealer replies easily, rubbing over Rafe's perineum.

Rafe stutters out, "What are you doing?"

Without a glance towards the boys frightened face, Barry lifts the gun and spits directly on it, smoothing saliva over the shiny piece before placing the blunt end against Rafe's entrance. "Just opening you up, stay still, country club," explains the older man.

All the air rushes from Rafe at once and he's shaking his head vigorously, babbling, "No, no, no. Barry, no, please—" only to be cut off by pressure against his rim and then the barrel is sinking into his very unprepared hole.

Rafe's whole body is trembling as the gun slowly slides almost all the way out before being roughly crammed back in, barely slick metal cold and dragging along his inner walls in a way that borders pleasant—but not quite.

The shape is odd and uncomfortable, something the boy can't help but focus on given his prostate is being neglected as the makeshift sex toy is stretching him open.

On the staticky TV the final scenes begin playing out, the sound of weapons clashing and terrified screaming ensue, loud even over the kooks panicked whimpers and Barry's responding groans. Dark, hungry eyes watch as the barrel disappears again and again, finger carefully placed off the trigger.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Barry mutters.

Rafe begs brokenly, "Please—" and before the other man can make some smartass quip, he confesses with a wavering voice, "I want your cock. I wanna be fucked by you, please, baby? Please fuck me. Please!"

Whether it's the desperation dripping from the kook or the use of baby or a combination, Barry is quick to remove the gun and wipe it off on the couch—something that will surely get him scolded when Rafe has the mind to care—and shoves his shorts down until they bunch around his knees.

Barry at least has the decency to wet his dick before unceremoniously pushing inside in one long, fluid motion that has both of them crying out.

"That feel good, sweetheart?" the older man asks, hips rocking as he finds his pace.

Both of Rafe's hands come up to tangle in Barry's hair and he's nodding. "Yes," the kook whines.

Coming to hover over the boys lean body, Barry knocks the gun against Rafe's temple and says, "You come before I give you permission I'll blow your brains out, yeah?" and then leans in to swallow a gasp, lips pressed together gently as Rafe's hole clenches down violently at the threat.

The hand not holding a presumably loaded weapon is caressing the boys cheek, loving touch and passionate kissing a harsh contrast to the slap of Barry's balls against Rafe's ass and steady jabs to his sensitive prostate. No amount of squirming or soft begging against grinning lips slows the brutal fucking or releases the hold the dealer has on the gun, held firm and sure to his sweaty skin.

"Always look so pretty taking my cock," praises Barry through grunts, heat pooling in his belly. A single tear slips out of wide, watery blue eyes and the gun catches it just as Rafe tenses around his thick length. "You ain't even embarrassed you're getting off with a gun to your head. I could kill you, Rafe."

Barry doesn't know why he says it or why it undeniably turns the both of them on so much; Rafe's life being in his hands.

Maybe it's because of the thrill and the comfort. Barry would never hurt his baby and Rafe knows that, even if his heart is pounding and his brain feels foggy, relying solely on trust and fate.

And the fact that Rafe is letting this happen is fucking intoxicating, the way Barry feels like he could do anything to the kook makes his head reel.

Rafe's brows are pinched together and he's panting harshly, cock pulsating between their grinding bodies. "Oh, fuck, don't stop. Please don't stop," the boy begs, wrapping his long legs tight around Barry's rocking hips.

Barry's movements grow erratic, chasing his high with little regard for Rafe's, just the way the kook likes it.

Slender fingers are yanking ruthlessly on dark curly hair as Rafe pleads for permission to finish, whimpering please let me come. Please, baby, let me come for you on a babbled loop, fresh tears dripping down his temples.

Barry sets the gun down on the cushion and cradles Rafe's face in both big, overworked hands to bring their lips together as his fat cock drives the kook right to the edge. "Come, go ahead," he rushes out before licking his way inside the boys mouth.

Rafe spasms around his man's dick, muscles tightening as his back arches and he shoots between them, pearly white ropes coating his torso. The cry that rips from his throat is coarse and piercing, louder than the end credits of the forgotten film still playing.

The boy whimpering in sensitivity is what has Barry spilling inside the fucked-out hole without warning, choked off groan coming from somewhere deep in his throat.

When they've come down enough to move, Barry's cock slips out with a rush of come, soaking a patch on the futon.

Barry takes a second to wipe Rafe off with a shirt before standing up and nodding towards the corner seat of the couch. "Sit back," he orders gently.

"Why?"

"To watch the movie?" Barry replies confusedly, one brow cocked.

Rafe suggests, "We can turn it off, we've already missed half."

Snatching the remote from the stained coffee table, Barry presses down on the rewind button and looks back at his boy expectedly. "We're watching it 'cause it's your night."

"Okay," Rafe says, barely containing the happiness radiating off of him. "But why do you want me in your spot?" "I love you, baby, and I'd protect you from anythin', you know that?" asks Barry, eyes sincere. At Rafe's responding nod he continues with, "Exactly. If we were in some real shit like this backwards movie I'd give myself up immediately if I thought you could get away but like hell am I holding you through another one of these damn things."

Five minutes later the two are cuddled up on the couch, Barry's cheek resting over Rafe's heart, one arm wrapped around his tan shoulders and fingers playing with his hair.

The movie is still disgusting but it's easier to swallow when Barry's wrapped up in his favourite persons embrace.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

blood on your altar

Fandom: DC Comics, Titans (fab five), Aquafam, Arrowfam

Summary: Roy Harper is haunted by a strange sight he witnessed while on holiday by the seaside.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Roy Harper, Garth, Oliver Queen, Hal Jordan, Dinah Lance

Relationships: Roy Harper/Garth

Additional Tags: Cannibal Mermaid AU, Sacrifice, Cannibalism as a Metaphor, Secrets, Angst, Romance, Horror, 1950's AU

Chapter One: Stained Glass

I watched the thing, meat in its teeth, blood dribbling down its chin as it growled and moaned. Wretched thing. Beautiful thing. Blood drunk. Red drunk. Like wine. My strange beast slurped flesh off the bone as it became more of a man and less of a thing. Claws became fingers. Dark reflective scales like abalone shells became flesh. Its eyes were man's eyes. First, they were bright candles behind amethyst stained glass windows, and then... Dark and dull indigo like a boy's. He wiped the blood from his lips, pretty and pink, before lying on his back in the sand. He spread his arms and legs in a shameful display, unashamed of his nakedness. He writhed pleasurably as the waves lapped at his bare skin. I gripped the fabric of my jacket, swallowing the lump in my throat as I watched my boy-creature. 

I knew it was wrong to watch the way I did, but the blood in my body rushing south only encouraged my voyeurism. I continued, guiltily watching my creature amid a lustful act, his now-human hands poking and tickling his loins, then flapping it back and forth, then as if he'd figured it out, he began to stroke and squeeze and gasp. I couldn't bear to look away. Hungry, dreadful, sinful curiosity captured me. It swallowed me whole, making parts of me long for a man in ways that I'd never imagined. I watched until he dribbled, then spurted alabaster white onto pink-blue flesh. Cold flesh from the looks of it. Then something changed. His man eyes flashed back to their stained-glass amethyst, shining brightly in my direction. I hid behind a boulder, holding my breath. I dropped to my knees and peeked around the corner, watching him crawl to the ocean. Cover his nakedness. Cover his acts. He glanced in my direction, still unable to see me while I hid again. “Who's thir?” he shouted. “Who's thir?” It was a strange accent, but not completely unintelligible. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. 

I stayed there until his honey-sweet voice stopped calling. By that time, he was already inside me. His eyes, his voice, his flesh. His chin was soaked with blood. Every little detail seeped into my brain and my heart, and I couldn't stand it. “I willny haert ye…” 

I crawled on my hands and knees until I bumped into Ollie’s shins. He groaned, bracing himself as he crouched. “Having fun down there?” Ollie asked. I couldn’t stand up. The creature burrowed into my mind, chilling me to the bone. Ollie extended a hand. He worried about me. It wasn’t without reason. He took me out of California to clear my head. Dinah and Hal suggested a trip to the seaside would improve my health. 

“Did you hear someone yelling?” I asked. Ollie shook his head as he pulled me to my feet. 

“It’s getting late, kid… Let’s go inside,” Ollie suggested. I followed him up the carved stone steps to the house. The faded pale green-grey house with its old beat-up hemlock green shutters. The windchimes blew around, singing hollow wood songs in the cool night breeze. Ollie asked me to go inside and shut the inner shutters to prepare for the coming storm. As I stepped inside the house, the boy-creature’s face faded from my memory. Seeing him felt like no more than a strange dream.

Dinah sat beside the radio with a glass of wine. She hummed to the radio’s tune. It always calmed my nerves. I sat on the floor by Dinah’s feet, and Ollie sat beside her. “What spooked you, Roy?” Hal asked. He noticed. I must’ve looked ill. “Were you out on the beach tonight?” 

“Don’t fill his head with all those ghost stories, Hal,” Ollie warned him. Dinah took a sip and smiled. 

“Awww, come on, Ollie. I wanna hear it,” Dinah replied. She kicked off her shoes and threw her feet over Ollie’s lap. He discreetly ran her thumb across her calf.

“Tell your story, Hal,” Dinah smiled. 

“You must beware of nighttime swims in coastal towns and cities. There are women… Women who dwell in the waters like fish. Some are as vicious as they are lovely. They swim to the surface at night, luring men in—.”

“Are they all women?” I interrupted. Ollie and Hal squinted at me. Dinah smiled and raised her glass. 

“Yes! Do the mermaids have meddling merfathers?” Dinah teased. Ollie playfully nipped at her. 

“I guess there could be male creatures… I could imagine male creatures of that sort are in short supply, though,” Hal answered. Ollie scoffed. He was neither superstitious nor interested in fantasy. “I’d imagine they’re much more dangerous and desperate than their female counterparts. Without the ease of allure, they might rely on speed and force to catch their prey, hiding underwater and dragging their poor victims beneath the waves to tear them limb from limb.”

I covered my mouth. “It’s only a story, Roy. Cut it out, Hal. You’re scaring the poor kid senseless… It’s getting late,” Ollie announced. It was his way of telling me to go to sleep. I left the room and bathed. I sank into the warm water and shut my eyes. My mind strayed to the gore and sweet hunger of the dark-haired thing. I lathered with soap as my hands strayed to my privates. I imagined his bloodstained lips kissing me all over. They couldn’t hear me over the radio. So, I moaned freely. I could almost feel his skin against mine. The warm bathwater was the entire ocean. His skin must’ve been soft like a woman’s. It felt more natural than anything I’d ever experienced… But it didn’t feel common. No. 

I could only feel this way in passing. Soon, it’d be nothing more than a dream to me. I spat white paint onto my speckled canvas. I shuddered as I thought of him doing the same. He writhed shamelessly, almost glowing under the moonlight as he delighted himself. The creature bore himself into my skull and wouldn’t leave me. He was ceaseless… And I was insatiable. I knew someone would worry if I took too long, so I collected myself, dressing in my robe and pajamas before hiding away in bed. 

Ollie was right. The storm set in after I laid down. The wind and rain shook the outer shutters, and thunder shook the house. I loved listening to storms when I didn’t have to go out in them, but something about this one seemed strange. I had a dreadful feeling wash over me as the kisses I imagined turned into bites. Devastatingly sharp and taking chunks out of my skin. I didn’t fight back. I didn’t want to. That’s what frightened me most. I would’ve let him eat me whole if he wanted to. I fell into a deep sleep, so deep I didn’t want to wake up. 

I couldn’t remember dreaming. So, I could’ve been dead… Or perhaps… Perhaps my boy-creature was a dream as well. 

[deepdisireslonging]

Nightmares and Consequences

The Reader has been chased by a monster in her dreams. Now that she’s started to look forward to the visits, she can’t be bothered to deal with the most annoying person in her life. Until he visits her late one night, and those paths cross again.  

Pairing: Vampire!Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings/Promises: horror, past mind-wiping, blood, dub-con, SMUT, oral (female receiving), hypnosis-like ending

Word Count: 2160

Note: This is part two of a fic I wrote last (Maybe? What is time these days?) Halloween for a challenge. A dialogue prompt showed up in my media, and this came to mind. As always, comments and reblogs are what make Tumblr go around, so don’t be shy. Every single one would make my day. Enjoy!

Part 1: Taste of Terror

The dreams had plagued you for months. Running through trees, or empty streets, or dim hotel hallways, it didn’t matter. The thing… it always caught you.

They came like clockwork. Running along like someone knew when your blood had been restored and you were finally less jumpy at quick or loud sounds.

One month.

That’s plenty of time to think the dreams of being chased, tackled, and bled dry, were gone for good unless you were watching their approach on a calendar. And deep down, you had started looking forward to them.

But there was one problem: you could never remember what the monster looked like. The fantasies that began to fill your nights leading up to the nightmares were unsatisfying in comparison. Much to your chagrin, the only person who seemed to notice your frustration was Roman.

“For the last time, I’m not joining your mob family.”

“I’ve never asked that of you.”

“Fine. But I’m not exactly eager to join your fan club either.” You attempted to brush past him, but once again, an easy sway from him blocked your path. “I’ve got enough issues on my own without you here to distract me.”

“I distract you?” Roman’s smirk took on a lewd angle.

You scrunched your nose at him. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just in the way. If I had my way, I’d never see or think about you again. And the only time I do either, is when your pulling shit like this.” Futilely, you shoved at his chest. Rage blossomed in your blood as he laughed above you.

Finally, he raised his hands in surrender. “How about this: we make a deal?”

“How much would that cost me?” you muttered towards the floor. When Roman tilted your head up with the crook of his finger, you shook him off.

“Nothing. I’ll drop by your hotel room tonight. We’ll have a chat. And, if by the end of it, you’re still not convinced to at least be friendly towards me, I drop this. Agreed?” Roman held out his hand.

“Agreed.”

***

“Bastard.”

The clock already said fifteen minutes to midnight. You didn’t care if he was the head of the world, nobody was going have a meeting this late. But you weren’t going to let it ruin your night.

A gentle buzzing came from your phone, reminding you what night it was. Eagerly, you pulled the covers up, ready to drift off to sleep. It came quickly, dropping you into darkness while you waited.

Heavy banging on the door about knocked you out of bed.

“For the love of- What?”

The knocking continued. You had an idea who it was. And he was very late.

You rushed to open the door before he could wake the whole floor. “Roman Reigns, do you have any idea what time it is? I outta-“

Roman’s hand wrapped around your throat, silencing you so he could shut and lock the door. You clawed at his wrist. But he continued into your room until he could toss you onto the bed. “So, about our deal-“

“Deal’s off,” you rasped, rubbing your throat. “You can’t just stand me up and then barge in here like you own the place.” With a grunt, you fell back as Roman pushed you back into the covers.

“Something came up. But I’m here, and you did invite me.”

“You invited yourself.”

“But you agreed.”

You rolled your eyes. Sometimes you considered all those hours with Heyman must have twisted his brain. “Whatever. My final answer is no. I’m not going to be friendly to you, and I’m not going to stand for this any longer. Get out of my room.”

The familiar chuckle that bubbled out of Roman’s throat chilled you to the bone. “I always like how feisty you are when you can’t remember.” He crawled over you, making your chest heave with fear. Sparks of recall danced at the back of your mind. In the darkness behind him, tree limbs and light posts flickered. He pulled you back with a gentle boop to your nose. “Sometimes I consider keeping you in the dark forever, but the next part is my favorite.”

Before you could protest, he kissed you deeply, the rumbling in his chest rattling yours.

It all came back, all those nights before. The nights of terror. The nights of pleasure.

When he broke away to let you breathe, you crawled away from him.

“You- you fed on me. Wiped my memories.”

“And it never took more than a snap.” He clicked his fingers together, shooting a tremor down your spine. His eyes were suddenly red. “But this time is different. This time you have to ask for it.”

“Ask- ask for it? Why would I-“

Slowly he pulled you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. “Haven’t you touched yourself at the memory of me? What little I let you have. How many times have you been able to cum on your fingers or your toys? Hmm?” He whisked his nail up the bottom of your foot, making you flinch. “Not a single orgasm for your trouble, right? Because it wasn’t the real thing.” His voice lowered. “I can give you the real thing. Whenever you please. All you have to do, is ask.”

It was promising. But being… fed on. That was just supposed to be a dream. That wasn’t something you’d actually be able to survive.

“What if I say no?”

Roman shrugged. “Then it’s over. All of it.” His head titled to one side, curious-like. “And when I mean all of it, I mean all. Of. It. I doubt you’d be able to successfully orgasm again. No matter what toys you buy or who you bring to your bed.” He leaned down, catching a lock of your hair between his fingers to twirl. “Honestly I wouldn’t know. The others who’ve said no I have completely lost contact with. Though that one desperate phone call did get through… oh well, a deal’s a deal.”

One large, warm hand eased over your inner thigh. You whimpered at the thrill it gave you.

“Focus, Y/N. Is your final answer no?”

You shook your head.

Roman stood up, ready to leave.

“Wait!”

He paused, not looking back. But you could see his knowing smile in the glass over the motel’s painting.

“One more. Just- just to settle it in my mind of what I want.” You took a deep breath. “I want one more night. Then I’ll have your answer.”

Despite your decision, you still crawled away from him when he loomed over you. He caught your sleep shorts, using them to pull you closer, and to pull them down.

“Won’t-“ you swallowed, “won’t the people on either side hear?”

His eyes flashed grey. “They never do.” In a blink, they were red again.

Then he was on you. Everywhere. Nearly smothering you with his weight. But his mouth was on yours; his tongue was filling your mouth. His hands pinned you to the bed by your forearms, giving you nowhere to go, except to arch into his chest. And his hips bore down on you, inspiring a heat to coil in your belly. You eventually started to rise to meet him. Encouraged, he rid you of your sleep shirt. His lips moved down to your jaw, skipping his usual latching point on your throat, down to your shoulder. Across your collarbone. Down your breasts.

This was different. The only thing pinning you down was the weight of him. You were allowed to move against him. Whispered commands didn’t tickle your ears. And the red power in his eyes didn’t alter your movements. If you were going to choose anything tonight, it would be your unhindered choice.

“M-more.”

“More?” He lazily laved around your peak. “You know what it will cost you.”

“Yes, please. Anything. Just- I need it.”

Roman nipped at the top of your breast, watching a single blood drop make its way down to your nipple before latching his mouth around it. The wound continued to bleed, dripping down your skin and into his mouth. When you were whining with the mere touch of his lips to your skin, he let his hunger take over. He sucked deeply at your chest. With a bite so close you your heart, it heightened the terrifying sensation of falling a flying towards unconsciousness.

But them he moved lower, barely grazing your stomach with his teeth. Roman situated between your thighs, holding them far apart with no chance of being able to shiver close. Without biting, he sucked at the inside of your thighs. You almost begging him to draw blood. Instead, the hickey he sucked brought up enough blood to the surface on its own. You moaned when the tiniest of bites opened up your blood stream to him. He did the same to your other thigh, blatantly ignoring how much you writhed on the bed. By the time he did place his mouth over your sex, you were mumbling pleas and cries for more.

“Oh, have we delved into incoherent babbling already?” He quickly ran a finger up through your slick, making you jolt. “You really are such a fragile thing, aren’t you?” Without warning, he curled two fingers into your heat. Arching nearly off the bed, Roman had to lay his large warm hand over your stomach to keep you in place. “So fragile.” He chuckled. “Are you hungry for my cock yet?”

“Please,” you panted, “please, Roman-“

“Not yet.”

He ignored your groan easily, diving in to drink up your essence more ravenously than he would your blood. Your eyes crossed. By your sides, your hands clawed at the sheets. Soon, you were ready to fall to pieces, and you laced your fingers into his hair attempting to guide him to that place. To your dismay, he leaned back to wipe his mouth.

“You’ll cum when I tell you to.” Slowly, he made a show of finally drawing down his front zipper. It was unnecessary, blissed out as you were, but your mouth watered anyways. A small voice tugged at the base of your skull promising “later”, then Roman was hovering over your face,  before kissing you as deeply as he filled you. The suddenness of it made you cry out, filling his mouth with your scream. Below, he quickened his pace until he was pounding into you. Above, his elongated teeth delicately traced your open lips, tasting the desperation in your heaving exhales.

He smirked against your cheek.

“This is the best version of you. Taking my cock so well. Waiting patiently for my bite at your neck. My perfect toy and feast. “

“I want-“

“Shhh-“

He placed his hand over your mouth, using it to turn your head to the side. The sharp pain that marked his next step of taking you apart shocked you to jump further into his taste and onto his cock. Every thrust sent you further into his mouth. Every time he came up for breath meant he could make lewd, wonderful comments in your ear that made your skin flush. The pleasure rose. Burning your skin, tingling at your fingertips as they went cold. You pulled and scratched at his arms trying to grip something that would ground you. His pace quickened, as did your heartbeat, ready to break through your ribcage.

“Cum.”

You seized. Moaning out his name weakly as he deepened his bite, tasting your release before giving you his with solid pumps.

The room was dim, barely illuminated by moonlight as Roman hushed and soothed you down. When he began to rub warmth back into your joints, and kissed away the bite marks, you sighed a questioning sound.

“I’ve never left a mark on you before, have I?” He finished smoothing his palms over your thigh hickies, making them ease into nothing more than slightly darker marks on your skin.

You thought back. “Last month.” You tapped the side of your neck. Having fallen asleep on your headphones, you thought you slept on one funny and dismissed it at the time. But there had been a bruise on your neck the following morning.

“Ah, yes. So I did. Well-“ he reached for your face and began to stroke it.

“Wait. You can’t erase my memories. Not this time.”

Not stopping, he shrugged. “We agreed on one more night.”

“But, my answer-“

“We can revisit in a month.”

Reeling, you fought to stay awake. But his fingers trailing up and down your nose, your cheeks, and your eyelids were hard to ignore. “How many times have we revisited this deal?”

“It’s time to sleep.”

“Roman. Wait, please-“ Your eyelids drooped. The bed seemed to envelope you. Even the pillow was a weight pulling at your consciousness. “I want- I want-“

“Just a dream.”

Only a second more before you slipped under.

“Time to wake up.”

________________

Masterlist

Wrestling/WWE Masterlist  

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