#SHUT THE FUCK UP REAR WINDOW REFERENCE
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Artists and Models (1955) dir. Frank Tashlin
I’m off the stars. They made me flip my little dipper and fall for a guy who’s in love with a lady in black.
#'jerry lewis is kind of cute in this!?' 'oh don't start.'#films#'but isnt it awful about our children? suppose they look like him.' 'rent them out for halloween'#'oh you're a writer? you have that thin--emaciated look.. that bloodless look'#why is everyone being so mean to him this is the cutest he'd ever looked and he's in COLOr#this movie is excellent actually#im jerry lewis crawling (fully dressed) into the tub with a very nude dean martin#'jungular veins'#'im looking for a man' 'well they never let me dress with the girls'#this whole movie is so ? <3#SHUT THE FUCK UP REAR WINDOW REFERENCE#'its my duty to the united states of america?! are you sure! if id have known that id have joined the fbi instead of the kangaroo patrol!'#this movie was so cute
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i don’t think you notice (what you did to me) [b.h]
six. | i was made for lovin' you
Billy Hargrove ✘ Win Lewis (ofc)
⇾ w.c. 4.9k words
⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, underage drinking, smut, blowjobs (m!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, cream pies
[ masterlist ] [ win lewis bio ]
By the end of the week, if anyone had missed the memo that Win was officially dating Billy Hargrove, they had to be blind. Between their casual PDA in between classes, their not so clandestine lunch period makeout sessions, and the fact that he was now driving her to and from school, it had become painfully obvious.
“What’re you doing tonight?” Billy asked, leaning against the locker next to Win’s as she approached to stow her books from last period.
“Hmm, I dunno, probably finish some homework before going to bed early,” she teased, flashing him a cheeky grin.
“Very cute,” he snorted, not buying it, and Win laughed, shutting her locker door and stepping closer, lifting her chin to steal a kiss.
“Heather Holloway’s having a bonfire tonight. Wanna make an appearance?” she suggested with a half shrug and Billy slung his arm around her shoulders as he fell into step with her. “If it’s lame, we can bounce. My dad works nights, so we’d have the place to ourselves,” she offered.
“Sounds like a plan,” Billy replied, nodding to Tommy as they passed.
“Ugh, why do you hang around with him?” Win muttered only for Billy to shoot her a wry look.
“Cause he does what I say,” he shrugged and Win let out a disgusted groan, rolling her eyes.
“At least you’re honest.”
“Max better not be late, if she knows what’s good for her,” Billy said as they approached the Camaro. “She knows I hate waiting.”
“At least you’ll have good company,” Win teased, dropping her bag in the passenger seat. As she straightened, she happened to lock eyes with Tina as she passed, Vicki and Carol in tow. The three practically turned their noses up at her, Vicki glaring daggers. Win forced herself to hold their gaze, not wanting to appear weak, but it stung–not Vicki or Carol’s animosity–she really didn’t give a fuck about what they thought, but Tina, Tina stung. Of course Win knew she was a bit of a stuck up bitch, but she’d been the first person in Hawkins to talk to her.
Billy’s gruff voice pulled her from her thoughts as Max skated up, hopping off her skateboard and flipping it smoothly up into her hand.
“Took ya long enough. C’mon, we got shit to do.”
Max made a face at him as she pulled the back door open, jumping in before Billy could make another impatient remark.
“Don’t listen to him, we haven’t been waiting long,” Win assured her, climbing in as well.
“I don’t know how you put up with him,” Max huffed, rolling her eyes as she turned to look out the window.
Billy glared at her through the rear view mirror before peeling out, kicking up stones as his tires spun.
“There’s a few things inside I wanna grab before we go,” Billy said, throwing the car in park in front of a modest little place on Cherry and kicking his door open. Win followed him and Max, climbing the steps to the enclosed front porch.
“Mom, we’re home!” Max called flatly, instantly taking off toward her room as soon as they were inside and a woman stepped out of the kitchen to greet them. She had the same fiery hair and blue eyes as her daughter, but that’s wear the similarities ended, and she offered Win a hesitant smile as her gaze fell on her.
“You must be Win,” she said, hastily wiping her hands on the kitchen towel before reaching out to take Win’s hand.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Win answered, glancing at Billy who quickly averted his eyes, a faint pink hue dusting his cheeks. It seemed Max hadn’t been lying when she said he’d talked about her.
“Win, this is Susan,” Billy introduced, careful not to refer to her as his mother.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Win said, returning Susan’s smile.
“Susan, can you tell my dad I can’t watch Max tonight? We’ve got plans,” Billy said, keeping his expression carefully neutral, but Mrs. Hargrove was quick to assure him that it was alright, that they’d be staying in tonight and that he and Win should have fun.
“Great, thanks,” Billy said brusquely, grabbing Win’s wrist to pull her down the hall.
“Nice room,” she mused, stepping just inside as Billy strode to his closet with purpose.
“Thanks,” Billy muttered, shrugging off his jean jacket and pulling his t-shirt over his head.
Win’s brows rose as she watched him, itching to smooth her hands across his muscular back and feel his warm tan skin. Clearing her throat, she quickly tore her eyes away as he pulled a dark maroon shirt from its hanger and slung it on, buttoning the bottom few buttons and leaving the top half open.
As he finished getting ready, Win ambled around his room, taking in his sparse decor, letting her fingers run over the records stacked neatly by his stereo, and picking up the dog eared paperback on the table by his bed.
“You hungry?” Billy’s voice cut through her thoughts and Win looked up to find him adjusting the collar of his worn leather jacket.
“Yeah, I could eat,” she murmured, setting the book back down where she’d found it.
“Cool, let’s grab a bite before the party.”
––
By the time Win and Billy arrived at Heather’s, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon and the party was already in full swing. Heather had a decent sized fire blazing in her backyard and several of their classmates lingered around it, beers in hand as they talked and laughed, their voices melting into the music playing from a boombox on the nearby deck table.
“Hargrove, you came!” Tommy called, raising his beer can as he caught sight of Billy. Carol stood at his side, arms crossed over her chest, against the chill in the autumn air. When she noticed Win, she rolled her eyes.
“Lewis, lookin’ good,” Tommy added with a grin and Win fought the urge to grimace in disgust.
“I want a drink,” she said, peeling away from Billy’s side to head toward the table, finding a couple large coolers stocked with ice cold beer. She grabbed two cans before ambling back toward where Billy stood with Tommy. Luckily, Tina and Vicki were nowhere to be seen.
“Thanks babe,” Billy murmured, accepting the beer before pulling her close to his side and cracking the can open one handed, his other hand slipping around her waist.
Win watched him take a long draw from the can, his adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow, before she too brought her can to her lips.
“Hey Win! Good to see you!” Heather exclaimed, joining them by the fire, the flickering light of the flames casting eerie shadows against her face.
“Hey, you too,” Win replied. She’d never really spoken much to Heather Holloway, they tended to run in different circles, but maybe that’s what she needed now—a different circle.
“Let’s play a party game, something to spice things up,” Tommy exclaimed loudly, crumpling the empty can in his hand and tossing it into the bonfire.
“Yeah, like Never Have I Ever,” Carol suggested, a wicked smirk gracing her pinched features.
“Oooh yeah, sounds like fun!” Heather exclaimed. “Think we need something stronger for this though,” she laughed, running over to grab the bottle of vodka on the table.
Win downed the rest of her beer before accepting the plastic cup of booze.
“Win, why don’t you go first?” Heather asked and Win grimaced.
“Uh, alright,” she murmured, watching the fire for a moment as she thought. “Never have I ever… gone cow tipping,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the most cliched country activity she could think of, wondering if anyone actually did that.
Billy let out a snort when Tommy chuckled, bringing his cup to his lips.
“Guess it’s my turn,” Tommy said, a grin spreading across his face.
“Never have I ever moved to a different state,” he said, raising his eyebrows at both Win and Billy.
“Very funny,” Win muttered, rolling her eyes, but taking a drink along with Billy.
“Hmm, never have I ever broken a law,” Heather said and once more both Win and Billy took a shot, Tommy joining them as well.
“You got that right, Hargrove!” he exclaimed, raising his hand for Billy to high five.
“My turn?” Carol asked and Win didn’t like the way she smirked as she deliberated. “Never have I ever stolen my friend’s date,” she said finally, her eyes flicking purposefully to Win’s.
Setting her jaw, Win didn’t move, and everyone’s heads swung toward her.
“Well?” Carol prompted expectantly, cocking an eyebrow at her.
“Can’t say I have,” Win replied with a shrug. “She’d have had to been my friend for that to be true.”
For a moment Win thought Carol was gunna come at her, the tension nearly suffocating, when suddenly Billy hefted her up, throwing her over his shoulder. “This party’s a major snorefest,” he announced loudly, tossing back the rest of the booze in his cup before striding toward the front yard.
Win could barely believe it, gaping back at the others as they retreated into the distance, bouncing against Billy’s shoulder with each step he took.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” she said as they were back in the Camaro and on their way down Win’s quiet street.
“Do what? That party was lame,” Billy insisted, glancing over at her.
“I can take care of myself.” Her muttered words sounded petulant and Win wished she could take them back.
“I know that,” Billy huffed, carefully not looking at her, his hands flexing on the wheel. “Besides, I wanted to get you alone. You’re way better company than those assholes,” he muttered.
Win smiled down at her hands, hoping he couldn’t see her expression in the dark as he pulled into her empty driveway.
“You hungry?” she asked, pulling her house key from her pocket.
“Fucking starved,” Billy replied, following her to the front door.
“I don’t know what all we have in the fridge, but I’m sure there’s something,” Win said, pushing the door open and gesturing him in, flicking on the light switch.
Billy ambled after her, letting his gaze roam the room almost curiously, a stark contrast to the bored way he usually took in his surroundings.
“Uhh, there’s not a lot in here that’s easy to make,” Win mused, shutting the fridge door with a frown. “I could probably make us some mac and cheese…”
At her words, Billy joined her in the kitchen, opening the fridge himself to have a look before checking the freezer. “There’s some frozen ground beef, I can make us some burgers to go with it,” he offered.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, it’s not hard,” Billy snorted, raising an eyebrow at her as he pulled the package from the freezer. “Something tells me you’re not exactly at home in the kitchen,” he ventured, shrugging his leather jacket off, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Yeah, I’m a heinous cook, bite me,” Win replied, sticking her tongue out at him as she flipped on the radio on the counter before pulling out a skillet and a pot.
Billy chuckled, shaking his head ruefully, opening several cupboards in search of a microwave safe plate to defrost the meat on. “You should probably work on that, unless you plan on living off frozen dinners the rest of your life,” he teased.
“Maybe I’m planning on marrying a guy that can cook, how about that?” Win countered, planting her hands on her hips jauntily and Billy couldn’t help but laugh.
“Was that a proposal, Lewis?” he teased and Win felt her face flush, quickly turning away to turn the radio up when the song changed, the opening to Call Me by Blondie playing through the speakers.
“Oh, I love this song,” she exclaimed, moving her hips to the music, for a moment forgetting that Billy was standing there.
“Please don’t tell me you listen to this shit,” he snorted, only for Win to gasp at him.
“Take that back!” she exclaimed, giving his arm a playful smack. “Debbie Harry is my icon!”
“You’re kidding, right?” Billy scoffed, transferring the defrosted hamburger to the skillet. “Here I thought you had better taste than that,” he said, fighting back a grin as he held his hands up, preparing for another attack.
Win’s mouth fell open. “I like you, don’t I?” she countered, pinching his side. Billy laughed, squirming away from her fingers, and Win’s expression turned mischievous.
“Ticklish, are we?” she asked, doubling down and attacking his sides without remorse until Billy managed to grasp her wrists, spinning her and pinning her back against the counter as he caught his breath.
“You little brat!” Billy exclaimed, leaning in imposingly, but Win raised her chin in defiance, her lips parting expectantly.
“What’re you gunna do about it, Hargrove?” Before she could barely get the words out, Billy’s mouth was on hers, his tongue forcing its way between her teeth.
Win’s breath caught in her throat and she moaned, melting into him.
The loud sizzling from the stove broke the mood and Billy swore under his breath, reluctantly pulling away. “To be continued,” he drawled, winking at her before turning back to the skillet, seasoning the burgers before flipping them and adjusting the heat.
“You wanna fill this up with water?” he asked, handing Win the empty pot before grabbing the milk and butter from the fridge.
Win obeyed, setting the water on the stove and turning on the burner. “So, uhm, how’d you learn to do all this?” she asked, leaning against the counter to watch him, the music playing softly in the background.
“This ain’t nothing,” Billy snorted. “This is pretty simple shit.”
“I guess,” Win said, rolling her eyes. “But you know what I mean. How’d you learn how to cook?”
Billy let out a soft huff, keeping his eyes on the stove. “I kinda hadta learn how to take care of myself from a young age.”
“I’m sorry…” Win breathed.
You don’t have to apologize,” Billy said, cutting her off, finally looking up at her, a vulnerability in his blue eyes that she’d only caught a glimpse of once before.
Opening her mouth to say more, Billy once more interrupted her, clearing his throat. “The water’s boiling, we should finish up the macaroni.”
––
It wasn’t long before the food was ready and Win plopped down on the couch with Billy to eat, turning the tv on for a distraction.
“You still sure this is more fun than getting wasted at the bonfire?” Win asked, still finding it hard to believe he’d really rather be there with her.
Billy set his empty plate on the coffee table before taking hers from her hands and setting it aside. “I’m very sure,” he drawled, easing her to her back, his mouth finding hers as his hand slipped beneath her shirt, drawing a soft moan from her lips.
“Here,” she breathed, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the floor.
Billy smirked down at the sight of her, his hand reaching around behind her to unhook her bra. “That’s better,” he murmured, enveloping her breast with his hand, his fingers pinching and rolling, coaxing her nipple to stiffen while his mouth descended on her exposed neck.
“You look so fuckin’ cute on your back,” he growled against her skin, nipping at her collarbone as he pressed his knee between her thighs.
Win’s sharp gasp at the sudden pressure against her throbbing cunt brought a husky chuckle to Billy’s throat, his cock stirring in response, pressing almost painfully against the confines of his tight jeans.
“You should stay, with me, tonight,” Win gasped between Billy’s hungry kisses, her back arching into his touch. “It gets so lonely, and I have a hard time falling asleep in an empty house,” she murmured.
Billy pushed back to look down at her, blue eyes flashing in the darkness. “I don’t sleep a lot either these days,” he admitted, caressing her cheek, his thumb catching her bottom lip. “You know, I can think of some ways to wear you out,” he drawled.
“Oh really?” Win breathed, letting out a surprised yelp as he suddenly lifted her, one arm wrapping around her back while the other fit under her bent knees, carrying her easily to her bedroom.
“Really,” he answered, smirking as he dropped her atop her bed, kicking the door shut behind him.
Win gasped as she landed, bouncing slightly. Before she could formulate a response, Billy was already unbuttoning his shirt and toeing his boots off.
“Enjoying the view, Princess?” he chuckled when he caught her staring and Win quickly ducked her head as her face flared hotter, focusing on working her jeans down while she peered at him through her dyed blonde bangs.
“Didn’t think you flustered that easy,” Billy teased, dropping his jeans and hooking a finger under her chin, tilting her face up.
“I’m not flustered!” Win countered, her heart pounding in her ears as he eased his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, the weight of it making her mouth water. “ –I’ve just not gotten a good look at your dick yet,” she murmured, wetting her lips distractedly.
A proud grin tugged at Billy’s mouth and he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. “Well, what do you think?” he drawled.
Win crawled closer, taking a deep breath in through his nose as she wrapped her hand loosely around his length, her cunt aching as she caressed him. Billy’s breath hitched, catching in his throat as she touched him and his cock twitched eagerly in her hand.
“So sensitive,” she breathed, grinning at his reaction. Though he liked to play it cool, it was reassuring that deep down he might be as flustered as she was. “You have such a pretty cock,” Win murmured, leaning in to lap up the glistening bead of precum gathered at his tip. Slowly taking him into her mouth, her tongue traced the thick vein on the underside of his length as her eyes flicked up to his, looking incredibly sinful on all fours like that with his cock disappearing into her mouth.
“Oh fuck–” Billy grunted, bucking forward involuntarily, unable to stop himself. “Fuck, that feels good. Your mouth’s like heaven,” he growled as his tip hit the back of her throat and she gagged, his pubes tickling her nose.
Win merely moaned in response, gripping the base of his cock with one hand to hold him steady so he couldn’t take her by surprise again.
“Shit Win,” he gasped, tangling his fingers in her chin length hair, blunt fingernails scraping her scalp as she hollowed her cheeks to suck as she pulled back, her velvety tongue curling around him, caressing him with each bob of her head.
“If you keep that up–” Billy’s words cut off and he hastily pulled free of her mouth, his fist in her hair holding her still. “As much as I would love to cum down your throat, sweetheart, I wanna make you scream,” he growled, releasing her hair to wipe the drool from her chin with his thumb, the tenderness of his actions at odds with the harsh way the words left his mouth.
A thrill ran through Win and she scooted backwards atop the bed, giving him room to join her.
“Get those panties off, or I’m gunna have to rip ‘em off you,” he said, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“That actually sounds kinda hot,” Win laughed, laying back against her pillows, her arms resting behind her head, her posture just daring him to do it.
Billy’s eyes flashed at the challenge and he grabbed her by the ankles, yanking her back toward him. Win let out a shriek of laughter, but didn’t struggle, biting her lips as he clutched her underwear, his gaze boring into hers.
“You sure about that?” he drawled, hesitating, and Win nodded. Billy’s grin turned predatory and he gave a sharp tug, easily ripping the thin cotton from her body.
“Oh fuck–” Win breathed, heat rolling through her at the display.
“There, that’s better,” he purred, discarding the ruined garment and pulling her legs apart. “I wanna look at this pretty pussy.”
Win’s breath hitched as he slid a finger between her folds. “Sucking me off made you this wet?” he marveled, slipping a second finger in, stretching her around him.
“I told you you had a gorgeous cock,” Win teased, huffing a breathless laugh as his thick digits curled inside her, dragging against her spongy g-spot.
“Billy, stop teasing me,” she pouted, rolling her hips impatiently against the heel of his hand.
“You keep pouting like that and I’ll make you wait longer,” he taunted, pulling his fingers free with a wet squelch and taking a moment to study the silvery translucent strands that stretched between them.
“If you won’t get me off, I have other ways–” Win began, huffing indignantly until Billy pushed her back, crawling between her legs and grabbing her wrist as she reached toward her sex.
“Ah ah ah, you don’t get to touch yourself right now, that’s my job,” he growled, releasing her wrist and giving his cock a few strokes before teasing his swollen head between her folds. “You ready, baby?” he asked, taking her aback that he’d asked.
“I’m ready,” Win breathed, moaning as he pushed into her. He kept his head down, watching the spot where their bodies connected, her cunt sucking him in greedily, inch by slow inch, creaming rings around the base of his cock with each slow thrust.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Billy groaned, dropping his forehead against her shoulder, his necklace hovering over her chest, grazing her sternum lightly as it swung in time with his measured movements.
Each time his hips met hers with a soft smack of skin on skin, Win let out a soft moan, her hands sliding up his back, feeling every dip and swell of taut muscle stretched beneath his fevered skin. “Oh fuck,” she gasped, whining sharply, her fingers biting into his shoulders as he hit her cervix, bottoming out.
“You make such pretty sounds for me. Your daddy’s not home, you know. So, you don’t have to hold back,” Billy growled, thrusting into her harder, enough to make the bed frame squeak, her tiny frame rocking beneath him. “I meant it when I said I wanted to make you scream.”
Win’s lips twitched and she let her eyes flutter shut. “Kiss me,” she breathed, the warmth pooling low in her gut spreading outward, driving her to the precipice. Needing to feel all of him pressed against her, she tightened her hold on him and Billy obliged, a deep groan catching in his chest as his lips collided with hers, kissing her breathless as he pumped into her faster, a desperation in his movements that grew with each moment.
Something had changed–this wasn’t like the time they’d fucked in the back of his car, this felt different, and Win’s head swam as her pleasure crested, threatening to carry her away.
“Billy–!” she gasped, teetering on the edge. “Want–want you to cum inside,” she managed to get out, rolling her hips to meet his, angling him deeper.
Billy nodded, breathing heavily, his thrusts growing jerky, sloppy. “Fuck, I’m–” he cut off with a guttural growl, his cock swelling and spasming as he came, unable to hold back any longer, and it was only moments later that Win followed, crying out his name as he rode her through it, pumping her full.
When they finally stilled, Billy collapsed atop her, his chest heaving against hers and Win pressed her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his sweat and the lingering spicy smell of his cologne.
With a soft grunt, Billy rolled to his back, pulling out of her and Win whined at the loss, feeling his seed slowly rolling down her inner thigh.
“You were right, you knew exactly what I needed to wear me out,” she sighed contentedly, turning toward him to rest her cheek against his shoulder, draping her arm over him.
Billy chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I know how to take care of you,” he murmured proudly, reaching for Win’s pack of cigarettes on the nightstand nearby.
“Open the window and share that with me,” she said, scooting closer to his side and Billy did as she asked, lighting the cigarette pinched between his teeth and blowing the smoke toward the window above her headboard.
Taking another pull, he offered it to her, wrapping his other arm around her back to hold her against him, though he knew he should be doing the opposite–disentangling himself and getting dressed. It was late, way past his curfew, but the feel of her warm body pressed against him was sweeter than the threat of his father’s wrath and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed.
“What was California like?” Win asked, her abrupt question taking him by surprise, and when Billy glanced down at her, he found her watching him.
“Warm,” he said, fighting a lump in his throat. “The sun was almost always shining. I used to spend a lot of time at the beach,” he continued, glancing away. “Then… things changed, and–” Billy hesitated, plucking the cigarette from her fingers to bring to his lips. “Well, let’s just say there was always plenty of shit to do to keep me outta the house,” he muttered, still feeling Win’s large doll-like eyes on him.
He could sense she was gearing up to ask a follow up question and he quickly changed the subject, not really wanting to dredge up shit from the past.
“How late does your dad work? He’s not gunna come home soon and catch me in bed with you, is he?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes as he remembered the look on her father’s face the first time they’d met. If he found them like this, he’d probably really freak.
“Nah, he works nights, so he won't be back til about six or seven,” Win answered.
Billy chanced a peek at her while he ashed the cigarette in the glass ashtray on her bedside table. “You don’t see him much,” he observed, a spike of jealousy pricking his stomach.
Win shook her head, reaching across him to steal the last few hits off the cigarette.
“Ever since my mum died, it’s been like this. Like he doesn’t wanna process shit, and he’d rather just throw himself into work or something, I dunno,” she muttered.
“I wish my dad was like that,” Billy murmured and Win’s brows drew down.
“Don’t say that.”
Billy huffed a humourless laugh, finally looking her in the eye. “I mean it,” he insisted. “If you knew my dad, you’d understand. If he disappeared tomorrow and I never saw him again, I wouldn’t shed a fuckin’ tear.”
Win nodded, finally understanding. With everything he’d said about his home life, things were beginning to make a lot of sense.
“Shit,” she suddenly hissed, catching sight of the time. “It’s way later than I thought–”
Billy cut her off, knowing she was about to ask if he needed to leave, and while he knew he probably should, he’d already made up his mind.
“It’s fine,” he said, a decisiveness to his voice that discouraged any argument. “Besides, your bed’s way more comfortable and there’s a smokin’ hot naked girl in it,” he added, his lips twitching as he ducked his head to steal a kiss.
“Charmer,” Win murmured, once more melting, deciding not to press the issue. It wasn’t like she wanted him to leave anyway.
Billy put out the spent cigarette and waved the smoke away before getting under the blankets and pulling Win closer, letting her meld against him, stifling a yawn behind her hand.
“Night Princess,” he murmured, but she was already drifting off.
––
The sound of her dad’s car pulling into the gravel drive woke Win and she blinked blearily, vaguely noticing the weak sunlight streaming through her window, which was still cracked open from the night before, the November morning air chilling her room.
Whining softly at the chill, she pulled the comforter up higher and rolled over, seeking Billy’s warmth. When her hand slid across the cold empty space next to her however, she bolted awake. Billy was nowhere to be found, his blankets thrown back as if he’d gotten up.
Crawling to the edge of the bed, she found the spot on the floor he’d left his boots empty as well and her fear of her father catching him there shifted to empty disappointment, her heart sinking, though she knew she was being irrational.
Laying back down with a huff, she stared at the ceiling, not bothering to shut her window. It almost felt like she’d only imagined falling asleep in Billy’s warm embrace, sleeping more soundly than she had since she’d moved to Hawkins. Turning her head to glance at her clock, a slip of paper on her bedside table caught her eye and she sat up to get a better look.
Billy’s hasty scrawl covered the scrap paper and Win couldn’t help but smile, hearing his voice in her head as she read his words.
Morning beautiful,
Sorry I’m not there when you wake up. Thought it would be safer to leave before your dad gets home. Last night was fun. Slept better than I have in a while.
I’ll call you later.
—Billy
P.S. you’re pretty cute when you’re sleeping, you actually look kind of innocent.
Suddenly feeling much lighter, Win flopped back into bed, holding Billy’s note to her chest as she fell back asleep, hoping his dad hadn’t noticed he’d been out all night.
⇾ taglist. @b1tchywheeler @wherethewitchersare @super-unpredictable98 @santacarlahorrorshow @oliver-sykes @elliethesuperfruitlover
#billy hargrove#billy hargrove smut#billy hargrove x oc#billy hargrove fanfiction#oc: win lewis#otp: lewgrove#joz.fic#fic: i don't think you notice#dacre montgomery
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Henry bowers with a stubborn reader?
YAY A HENRY BOWERS REQUEST! I seriously love the bowers gang so much, thanks for requesting this! I hope you like it!
Henry Bowers X Stubborn! Reader
Gender neutral - they/them and you is used
Written on mobile so I apologize if it’s formatted weirdly
You had been dating Henry Bowers for a while now. No one knew how Henry was able to handle you with his short temper and how stubborn you could be. It wasn’t uncommon for you to turn your head up with a “hmph!” If he wanted to do something you didn’t. You almost never changed your mind with anything, if you said you were going to do something then you were going to do it. You lived by a “it’s my way or the highway” attitude.
No one understood how you were able to get Henry to stay. After all, Henry always felt like he needed to be in control. And you made that pretty difficult. Such as today. Henry wanted you and him to go hang out with the gang, maybe drive around town a bit and find some kids to pick on. But you didn’t.
“Come on, Y/n, Belch is here.” Henry said. You did your head turn and huffed, sitting down on your couch and crossing your arms. “No,” You said. “I told you I don’t wanna hang out with them today.” Henry groaned and stepped in front of your line of vision, which you then just turned your head the opposite way. Belch could be heard outside honking his horn for you two to hurry up, but he knew what was most likely happening.
“Y/n I’m not messing around with you! Get up and let’s go.” Henry said, giving you another chance. You simply stick your tongue out at him. That was it. Without giving you a chance to react, Henry picked you up and swung you over his shoulder, carrying you out the house and lightly tossing you into the backseat with Vic and Patrick.
“Hey, Y/n. Not having a good time I see.” Patrick snickered. You kicked him, dodging Vic’s legs in the process, making Patrick only snicker more. “They’re the reason why we took so fucking long.” Henry said as he looked at you through the rear view mirror. You said nothing, focusing your attention out the window.
“Someone’s pissy.” Belch said. And you weren’t quite sure if he was referring more about you or Henry. Henry rolled his eyes. “They can deal with it. I told them we were going to hang out with you guys.”
“Yeah but… Did they have to? Not that I care, you’re great Y/n,” Vic quickly added, which you gave him a quick small smile to assure him it was fine. “But they clearly didn’t wanna come this time.”
“You’re right, Vic.” You suddenly said. “I didn’t want to come. And I stand by that.” You glared daggers at Henry before opening your door and hopping out of the car, hearing a string of “oohs” from Belch and Patrick. Henry watched at you went back into your house, slamming your door shut behind you. He swore under his breath, running his fingers through his hair. “I’d go after them if I were you.” Belch said, glancing beside Henry to the house.
“They’re so fucking stubborn,” Henry mumbled. “I swear it’s like dating a bratty teenager.”
“Yeah well they probably feel the same way about you.” Vic said. Henry leaned back and punched him in the shoulder before leaving the car, watching it drive off from the porch, and then entering Y/N’s home. Y/n was laid down on the couch, arms still crossed, staring off at the tv screen which was playing some random show they didn’t really care about.
Without saying anything, Henry swung his body so he was laying behind you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “You’re an ass.” You said. “And your a brat.” He replied, gently kissing you neck. He knew that buttered you up. You squirmed and flipped over to face him, both of you having a frown on your faces. But that was just how you both looked. Patrick would often tease the two of you for your resting bitch faces. Which you and Henry would beat him up for.
You kissed Henry’s nose, making him lightly flinch back from surprise. “Thanks for coming with me. I’m still kinda pissed at you though.”
“Yeah I figured you were. Can I change the channel?”
“No.”
#henry bowers#henry bowers x reader#bowers gang#IT#slasher x reader#request#bowers gang x reader#tee hee bratty reader go brrr
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15
Mel sat between Klaus and Gabe on the ride to the hospital. She had to admit that Case’s driving wasn’t bad, he just had a definite love of speed. Not that she was surprised, he was a Louisiana, in this case pronounced Loo-zee-anna, boy after all. She was pretty much lost in her thoughts though, not paying attention to what would normally be considered picturesque scenery passing outside the windows. Klaus’s hand was on her knee, their fingers intertwined. He kept looking over at her, trying to figure out what thoughts were going through her head, but wasn’t coming up with much.
Finally Case’s voice cut through the slightly uneasy silence that had fallen throughout the interior of the car. “Boys, we got a problem. Mel get in the floor…NOW!” This was not a request, it was a command, and one that Melania did without question or hesitation.
Gabe was leaning over her a second later, his gun resting in his lap, safety off. She could hear the engine of the SUV rev as Case accelerated and they were all thrown towards the passenger side of the vehicle as he cornered, drifting the back end through the turn. The screech of tires behind them a few seconds later told Mel all she needed to know…they were being tailed.
“How many?” Klaus asked as he pulled body armor from behind the seat, putting one over Mel, then handing another to Gabe.
“One SUV, at least two passengers. Driver has a pistol, passenger has a… FUCK!” Case cornered hard again as the distinctive ping of a round hitting the body of the vehicle was heard. “rifle. I’d guess AR, but there’s hella reflection off of their windshield.” It was clear he was frustrated.
Klaus slid over the back of the seat, to be in the rear of the SUV. Donning his own body armor, he pulled out his cell as he dug through the cases of munitions and firearms that were back there. Getting a hold of Donovan, he let him know the situation. “Head to the dig, our boys will be waiting for these fuckers when we hit the tree line.”
Another few hard turns, and they were headed out of town. Case had the accelerator floored as the engine whined. Of course Ambrose had secured vehicles that would surpass the limits of the normal factory models, but they were at speeds well over 100mph now. Klaus had called Nic and after an exchange of profanity laden information, there was another SUV with Nic and Ambrose headed to back them up as well.
“Why are they after us? None of us were in those pictures, and Andreas had said those were his only targets.” Gabe growled as he acted as a shield over Mel.
“They don’t know we don’t have Andreas. No doubt his employer has noticed him missing by now.” Klaus growled as an AR came over the back of the seat to rest next to Gabe.
“And, I realized what at least Sasha and Alexander have in common.” Case added from the front as another hard turn was made. “They were on that dig that went south in Peru with Mel. The one with the amulet of second sight.”
“Damn! That means anyone who knows where that thing is could be a target.” Klaus leaned against the back of the rear seat as he watched the other SUV trying to keep pace with them as they headed up towards the mountain the dig site was on.
“If they’re taking out those who know, my guess is that it’s more information they’re wanting to bury. You’ve got two of the preeminent archaeologists in Europe on that list; that can’t be coincidence.” Gabe surmised. “Although…Alexander and Sasha’s names were on the permits for that dig. We all know the nice little artifact that Mel got ahold of. If there’s more of that kind or of historical references of the dark arts, then it could be that they’re wanting to shut it down because there’s something bigger there.” He added looking down at Mel with a tight lipped expression. He felt sorry for her getting in the middle of this. After what had happened in Peru, he felt the woman should have a break. Seemed she walked back into the line of fire completely by accident.
Another ping of a round hitting the body of the vehicle broke his thoughts as he looked back at Klaus. The other man had almost gotten his setup complete. Time to return fire. Make those mother fuckers back off till they could get to where they had more cover.
“Case, you’re gonna lose the back window…now,” was all the warning anyone in the vehicle got before Klaus fired.
The bullet took out half the back window and hit the hood of the trailing SUV. The driver swerved, causing his passenger to be jostled about and messing up the shot he was trying to take at the time. The bullet went far wide of the SUV, into the trees on the side of the road. Klaus fired again, hitting one of the tires this time. The SUV jerked again, and slowed, but didn’t give up chase.
“Fuckers are persistent. This thing have any more power, Case?” Gabe yelled forward, pulling on his ear to try to get rid of the ringing from the high caliber shots had caused.
“We’re going to find out!” Case yelled back and pushed the SUV even harder.
They were pulling away from the SUV and getting closer to where Donovan and Dez had taken up sniper positions at the tree line of the dig site so they would be able to disable the SUV before it got to the actual site. As the opening of the trees became visible, another black Mercedes SUV could be seen gaining on the one trailing the group. Ambrose and Nic were arriving on scene and the sound of shots coming from the rear meant they were ready for a fight too.
Case ignored all the sounds of shots and focused only on getting through that tree line and to the site. He blocked out every sound and became fixed on the other black SUV that had been parked in such a way as to provide cover for the door to the Quonset hut that had been erected to protect the dig site from the elements. Bless whichever of the guys had thought to give him that gift. It would hopefully get Mel into the building safe while giving him and Klaus cover to hide behind.
“HOLD ON!” Case yelled over his shoulder as the SUV cleared the tree line. Dust and gravel flew up behind them, blocking the view of the SUV following them. Using all of his driving skills, Case was able to brake, steer, and accelerate in the right combination to bring the SUV to a stop 3 feet from the building, running parallel alongside it. “Gabe, get her ass inside.”
Not waiting for a response, Case grabbed the body armor and rifle in the back seat as he saw Klaus slipping out the tailgate and advancing towards the hood of the other SUV. In a flash his own body armor was on and he was doing likewise. Both men’s rifles were trained on where the SUV should emerge from the treeline. While the sound of the gunshots from their teammates had been obscured by the sounds of the gravel before, the sound of a large vehicle striking a tree now was unmistakable.
Klaus and Case held position. They didn’t know which of the SUV’s that had been behind them had wrecked and they weren’t going to give up the advantage of having good cover to hide behind. The treeline was now unable to be seen, the dust from the way that Case had brought their SUV to a stop was still hanging in the air. The question of which it was got answered less than a minute later when there were two shots that were unmistakable as pistol. They didn’t need to see the scene to know that instead of being taken prisoner, the driver and passenger of the vehicle had ended their own lives. This was going to put Nic and Ambrose in just peachy moods, they were both sure of this.
A moment later, Donovan and Dez came walking out of the swirling dust, rifles hung against their backs. Both were shaking their heads and obviously highly annoyed. Klaus and Case lowered their rifles as the two drew nearer; throwing the slings over their shoulders so their rifles hung like the other two’s did. They leaned against the SUV watching the two frustrated mercenaries. “This ain’t gonna be pretty.” Case said looking over to Klaus with an expression that said they both knew that Ambrose and Nic were going to go ballistic if they couldn’t find anything out from the wrecked SUV that was still near the road and a ways from the treeline.
“No shit! At least none of ours got hit or killed. Though I’m not sure they’re going to like what I did to the back window.” He chuckled as Case shook his head. Dez and Donovan reached them and all four turned to head into the building. Might as well rest where the environment was more comfortable, when the two boss men got up there it was going to be anything but.
As soon as Donovan cleared the door he came to a halt, hands up. “For the love of God, please tell me these are from the two of you hiding somewhere.”
Dez raised his eyebrows to look around and saw two red dots in the middle of Donovan’s chest. “If not, you’re fucked.”
Both dots disappeared as Donovan shook his head. “You know that’s not funny.” He watched as Melania and Gabe came out of where they had been hidden. He had to give them credit. They had been pretty well hidden, until they moved he hadn’t noticed them.
“No, you know what’s not funny? Being squished in the floor of a SUV while it’s being driven like it’s on a roller coaster track. Oh, and being shot at, at the same time.” Mel was pissed, and Klaus moved to intercept before she shot one of their own guys.
“She may have made it so that if Andreas survives that he is never able to have children…with her foot. And she quite literally threatened to shoot his dick off. Not the day to mess with her bro.” Case slapped Donovan on the shoulder as he passed heading to where there were some chairs setup.
While Klaus and Mel talked in hush tones, the two obviously butting heads, the others found seats either in the folding chairs or on tables. Dez jerked his head over towards them. “I take it that they’re….together? Or is he just the one she wants to kill least?”
“No, killing least would be me.” Gabe chuckled. “Together…” he coughed, “well, from what I walked in on at the hotel…yeah. I think they literally kissed and made up.” He smirked.
“Who gave her a gun?” Donovan laughed as he watched the two arguing about something.
“She stole Gabe’s pistol and shot Andreas. After that, no one was going to tell her no.” Case answered with a chuckle.
“Yeah, I was the lucky bastard out of the four of us who had laid our guns down in the room with Andreas.” Gabe said sarcastically. “She wanted to keep it and after watching her shoot Andreas, I wasn’t going to tell her no. I like my cock where it is.” He chuckled.
“Wait…wait…” Donovan laughed, “you’re telling me that little prima ballerina literally shot Andreas? Andreas, Klaus’s cousin?”
“Yes.” Case and Gabe answered at the same time.
“And threatened to put a bullet through his cock before knocking his chair over and driving her heel into his groin.” Both Case and Gabe slightly cringed at the memory before Gabe continued. “Yeah, she went all badass. And I thought she and Klaus were going to kill each other before we could get out of the hotel. Maybe we should go get the weapons from those two.” He chuckled.
“Nah, Klaus could use getting shot…again…by a girl.” They all chuckled at Dez’s quip. “Let’s just wait till Nic and Ambrose get here. I’m sure they’re going to kick all of our asses for not getting those two assholes alive anyway. Might as well let the bloodshed wait a few minutes.”
#writeblr#my writing#my ocs#fiction#action#adventure#paranormal#writing#drama#new chapter#new writing#original fiction#original writing#original story#female writers#thriller#paranormal mystery#mystery#haunted artifacts#paranormal artifacts#artifact hunters#relic hunter#archaeology#deception#modern fiction#paranormal adventure#paranormal fiction#supernatural#supernatural mystery#new orleans
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Night Driving (Drew Starkey)
Author's Notes: This is a continuance of the request Night Swimming - I had so much fun writing that request that I wanted to make a second part, and you all said "heck yes". Here we go. Let me know what you think if you have a moment, please! It's admittedly shorter that Night Swimming, but I don't think it's any less fun and I hope you love it all just the same! xoxo
Warnings: Swearing, sexual references - sexual innuendos, Smutty(ish) - some clothes are removed. Lots of touching, and kissing.
Requested? Yes! You all wanted a sequel, and I couldn't help myself to write one either. Requests for OBX are also very much open.
*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo
Drew picked her up for dinner on a mild evening for dinner. He was on time like he always was, pulling up into the driveway with a flash of his high beams at her just to make her smile as she stood on the front porch while she waited for him.
"Hey, good looking." Drew grinned as he hopped out of his truck and took the few shorts steps to stand in front of his girl.
"Hey, handsome." She smiled as she placed her hands on his sides, pressing up on her toes to be closer to his height.
"Ready to go?" Drew asked while he wrapped one arm around her waist, then dropped his head down to press his lips to hers quickly. He smiled softly at her little pout, then led her towards the passenger side of his truck.
Drew opened the door for her, his hand gripped to hers as he helped her into the truck. He raised his eyebrows and felt his conviction to be on time for dinner begin to fade as he saw a flash of her backside under her little skirt. Drew pursed his lips as he shut the door once she was settled safely in the front seat then made his way around to the driver's side, his fingertips brushing over the scruff of his chin as his mind began to race.
"Let's go! I'm so hungry!" She groaned out as she pressed her hands to the roof of his truck, her head against the headrest.
Drew smiled softly as he started the ignition of the truck and made his way back out of the drive, and towards their destination. The drive to the restaurant where everyone else was meeting them felt long. It was a place they all frequented, and Drew knew the route well. But for some reason the drive today felt excruciatingly long.
Drew reached the turn off for the restaurant, but kept driving. His eyes focused on the road as one hand clutched the steering wheel as the other ran his thumb over his bottom lip.
"Wasn't that our turn?" She questioned as she turned her body to look out her window at the passing street sign.
"Gonna take the back roads. Nicer drive. Less traffic." Drew mumbled as he took a quick left turn onto a bumpy, dirt path that had her squealing and reaching for the handle above her window.
"Drew! There's nothing out here! Where are we going?" She replied, her knees pressed together. She reached for the dashboard with one hand as the other kept her white knuckle grip on the handlebar over her window.
Drew didn't say anything in response. He simply kept driving, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. A small smile on his face as he heard her squeal again as they hit the larger bumps in the dirt path. He found a spot on the side of the road that was covered by some trees, his truck still somewhat visible in the light of dusk. He pulled over, put the car in park and pulled up the emergency brake just to be sure.
"That is just cruel." Drew stated firmly with a jab of his index finger towards the short, pleated black skirt she wore.
He pulled his keys out of the ignition and dropped them in the cup holder in the centre console. He ran a hand over his chin, his fingertips catching on the scruff of his chin.
"You don't like my skirt?" She asked as her fingertips tugged at the hem of her skirt, the fabric pulling up her thighs a little more.
Drew breathed out a laugh before he reached over to the passenger side, unbuckled her seat belt and grabbed her hips. He pulled her over the console and placed his girlfriend on his lap to make her straddle his thighs.
"I like it a lot, and I think you knew that when you put it on." Drew muttered as he placed his hands beneath the short hem of her skirt on the backs of her thighs.
"This road doesn't go anywhere. Does it, Starkey?" She questioned softly as she combed her fingers through his hair.
"This road? No. Just leads to some guy's fields. It's a dead end." Drew whispered as he turned his face to kiss her wrist, his fingertips creeping up the back of her skirt to feel for her panties.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you just kidnapped me so you could fuck me in your truck." She shivered as she felt his fingertips hook into the strap of her thong.
"It sounds bad when you say it like that." Drew teased as he hooked his fingers in the back of her thong, kept them there, and did nothing.
"So, what's it like?" She asked as she wiggled in his lap for more attention. His touch was too light on her backside under her skirt. He was gentle with her, but never feather-light. His touch always had some sense of urgency.
"More like, I took you somewhere pretty to get under your skirt before dinner." Drew grinned as his right hand moved from the strap of her thong and into her hair to pull her close.
"Make your move, Starkey." She challenged as she pulled her short nails down the front of his shirt, her thighs squeezing against his as she held her breath waiting for his kiss.
Drew leaned forward to close the small space between them, his lips pressed to hers. He released a sigh of relief through his nostrils at the feeling of finally kissing her that day. He wrapped his fingers around the long tresses of her hair and gave a small pull, his tongue slipping in her mouth when she whined.
Drew's girlfriend pushed the bottom of his shirt up over his abs, her fingertips pressed into the deep plains of his muscles. He smiled against her mouth as he felt her fingertip move down his abdomen towards the buckle of his belt.
"Let me help." Drew smiled through a heavy breath as he removed his hands from his girlfriend's body and reached between them to pull the prongs of his belt for her. The anticipation and sexual tension in the cab of the truck was almost tangible at that point. Drew wasn't sure who wanted it more.
"Thank you." She sighed with relief as she reached for the button of his jeans only to have her hands swatted away, her body being thrust backwards against the steering wheel which caused her backside to give a prolonged honk on contact.
"Goddamnit, Drew!" She gasped as she jumped forwards, her arms wrapped around his neck and her body flush against his once more.
"Well, sit your ass in my hands and that won't happen again." Drew growled as he reached beneath her skirt to grab hold of her backside in both his palms firmly. He gripped at the flesh of her ass and squeezed, smiling as she dropped her forehead down to his with a pout.
"Kiss me, Starkey." She begged as she adjusted her arms around his neck, her hands combing through his hair again.
"You kiss me first. Everyone knows when I start with you, then I get razzed all night long. You kiss me first, pretty girl." Drew demanded as his hands pulled at the flimsy strap of her thong and he realized with the right twist, he could snap it.
She released a whine from the back of her throat that made Drew feel primal, every carnal instinct in his body being lit like a match. He bared his teeth to her before he grabbed at the back of her neck and pulled her down for a kiss that would no doubt leave both of their mouths hot and swollen.
Drew's free hand pulled at the strap of her thong, doing his absolute best not to tear it into pieces. He tugged it down over the swell over her backside and to her knees, reluctantly removing his lips from hers to look between them to see what he was doing.
Drew adjusted himself in his seat and with an easy lift of the woman in his lap, he tugged her underwear the rest of the way down her legs. He reached up and hung the lace material over his rear view mirror for safe keeping.
A loud honk erupted from around them. Drew pulled his hands from under his girlfriend's skirt and glared at her.
"That wasn't me! I can barely move you're holding me so tight, Drew." She panted as she pulled her hands from his hair to move her own hair from her face.
Drew quickly averted his eyes from her lips, swollen from his kiss and looked into the rear view mirror. Behind his truck was a sedan that he knew all too well.
"There's someone behind us." Drew growled through gritted teeth.
"We were followed? Do you think it's the guy who owns those fields? Drew, farmer's have guns. Big guns." She rambled as she reached for his belt and quickly redid the buckle for him as she tried to look through the tint of his back window.
"It's no one with a gun, Sweetie." Drew soothed, his body relaxing when he realized his reaction to the vehicle behind him had frightened her.
He lifted her up and gently placed her back into the passenger seat of the truck, his fingers reaching up to pull her underwear off of his rear view mirror - which he handed to her with a soft smile.
"Be right back. Put these back on, hon." Drew smiled as he leaned over the console and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before he practically kicked open his door and hopped out of the truck.
Drew stepped on to the dirt road and closed the door harshly behind him, refusing himself a look back at his girlfriend as he pulled her underwear back on. He stood quick, purposeful strides over to the sedan that idled behind his truck and knocked on the window with a closed fist.
"Dude, I swear to god. We followed you because we thought something happened. We saw you take that super hard turn passed the restaurant and come this way." Rudy giggled as he rolled down the window, his lips sucked between his teeth as he stared up at his friend who was less than impressed.
"You can't text?" Drew asked while he shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes narrowed at the blonde man who still giggled in the front seat.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Next time I'm certain your truck has been stolen, and you and your girlfriend are being held hostage - I won't come save you. Can we go for dinner now? I'm pretty sure the guy that owns those fields has a gun." Rudy replied as he caught his breath.
"You're a fuck." Drew muttered as he held back a smile. He turned on his heel and made his way back to the truck.
"The scenic route. Huh, Starkey?" Rudy yelled out the window of his car before he backed up and drove away, back towards the main road.
Drew shook his head as he opened up the driver's side of his truck and climbed in once more. He gave his girlfriend an apologetic look as he sat back down, fastening his seat belt once more.
"I'm sorry about that." Drew stated softly as he grabbed his keys from the cup holder and stuck them in the ignition again.
"That's okay, Starkey. You can take for a drive after dinner, if you like." She smiled as she sat up on her knees, leaned over the console and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"Alright. Promise I won't take you near a farmer's field, or where Rudy can find us." Drew smiled as he placed a hand on her thigh once she settled back in her seat, and pulled the truck around and drove back towards the main road.
Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! xoxo
Thank you for your support. Requests for OBX are open!!
@littlementalpolaroids I'm sorry I didn't tag you sooner - if you haven't already seen this!!
#drew starkey#obx fic#outer banks#drew starkey fic#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey smut#outer banks imagine#outer banks fluff#outer banks smut#obx requests#obx imagine#obx fluff#obx smut
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Driving My Baby
Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)
Words: 2,183 (i can’t drabble)
Summary: Dean doesn’t know about your mad skills behind the wheel, but it turns out there’s nothing hotter than seeing his baby driving his Baby.
Warnings: implied smut, language, fluff, dean’s bow legs, references to the fast and furious franchise
A/N: was originally gonna post a slightly angsty 2-part dean fic next, but decided against it in light off recent events lol. there’s really no plot or substance here, just some light floof. (and yes, the title is a reference to the song ‘you’re having my baby’)
MASTERLIST
The roar of Baby’s engine rumbled to a halt as Dean glanced over at you, “Alright, so you gonna sit tight while I go scope this place out?”
You sent him a close-lipped smile, trying your best to repress the excitement bubbling within you. “Mhm!” you concurred with a bouncy nod, pausing to sneak a quick peek at his shapely behind when he stepped out of the car, “I’ll try and see if I can get a hold of that morgue guy again.”
Walking over to the passenger side, Dean bent down to kiss you through the open window. “Mmkay, I’ll be back soon,” he mumbled against your lips, before turning to commence his search for the potential vamp hideout you suspected was in the vicinity.
“Oh wait! Dean!” you called out, stopping him in his tracks.
“Yeah?”
“The keys?”
Dean looked down at his pocket where the Impala’s keys were safely nestled and then back up at you with raised brows.
“You’re not gonna leave me in here like a dog, are you?” There was a subtle hint of amusement in your voice, but also a challenging edge, as well as a slight pout which you added for good measure. You knew he could never really say ‘no’ to you.
And as expected, Dean returned to deposit the keys into your waiting hands. You gave him a wide smile in return, “Thank you! Love you!”
Your boyfriend narrowed his glimmering green eyes at you, imparting one last suspicious glimpse in your direction as he grumbled somewhat warily, “Love you too,” and then finally sauntered off for good.
Biting your lip, you watched with bated breath as his figure grew smaller in the rear-view mirror. Normally, you would have enjoyed the exquisite vision of what you often dubbed his ‘sexy ass bow-legged swagger’, but this time, it was when Dean was no longer in sight that a devilish grin broke out across your face.
But really, who could blame you? You’d been a car enthusiast all your life, and classic cars were your weakness. “It’s just you and me now, Baby.” Your fingers glided along the dashboard.
With Sam on the bench due to a broken ankle (courtesy of the werewolf from your last hunt), you and Dean had driven out to Piedmont to take care of this vampire case on your own. So now after two years with the Winchesters, you finally had a chance to explore the front seat of Dean’s Baby, his pride and joy, the glorious, refurbished 1967 Chevy Impala.
When you’d joined forces with the brothers, it was readily agreed upon that you would be better off riding together in the sleek American muscle car, so you ditched your stolen, rusty 2003 Honda Accord and never looked back. Since there was a giant moose to accommodate, you were naturally relegated to the back seat, and rightfully so, but boy, did you miss the thrill of being in the driver’s seat.
You were always a bit of a demon behind the wheel, and it’d been ages since you’d gotten the chance to flex your driving skills. Back when you and Dean first got together, he promised you joyrides (and other recreational activities) in Baby, but the hunting life never seemed to let you get it on.
Sliding across the bench seat, your lungs released a contented sigh as you wrapped your hands around the leather-bound steering wheel. Dean’s bowlegs, however sexy, were not the same length as yours, so you pulled the lever beneath the seat to adjust its position to your liking. Perfect.
You took your time getting to know the ins and outs at the helm of the Impala, though it seemed like none at all had passed when you suddenly heard Dean’s deep voice cry out.
“Y/N!” Your eyes shot up to the rear-view mirror to find an image of the older Winchester running towards the car. “We gotta go!”
Well that’s strange, you thought. Dean never ran – not unless someone, or more often something, was chasing him… Oh shit. Had he somehow woken the vampires? But the sun was still thriving; how much could they retaliate out in the open at this point during the day?
“We gotta get outta here! Now!”
Dean’s voice was much closer now and if you’d learned anything from your experiences hunting with the Winchesters, it was to never doubt your boyfriend’s commands. He was a seasoned pro and possessed instincts like you’d never seen. It’s a good thing you’ve also got some of your own.
Plunging Baby’s key into the ignition, you started the car without hesitation, allowing yourself only a second to relish in the thunderous purr of the engine below you and the incomparable feeling of glee that always sprouted in your chest whenever you were sat at the wheel of a powerful, capable vehicle. Indeed, the adrenaline was already rearing.
As Dean approached the car, you quickly reached over to open the passenger side door for him. “Get in the car!”
“You- Wha-“ Dean stumbled for a split second, so accustomed to taking the driver’s seat. “Y/N, they’re awake and they’ve got bikes – a bunch of Harleys!” he continued to explain, as if that would get you to move out of his designated spot.
“OK, so hurry up!” you yelled again.
Seeing no better option, Dean hastily climbed into the car. Just as he got in, your ears picked up the unmistakable resounding growl of revving motorcycle engines. From the sound of it, they couldn’t be too far off. So when Dean slammed the door shut, your foot came down fast and heavy against Baby’s gas pedal, propelling you forward with an aggressive lurch before you whizzed off, burning rubber and leaving nothing but flying leaves and dust in your wake.
“Jesus!” Dean bellowed; his eyes had grown to about twice their usual size.
You paid him no attention though, too busy reveling in the delightful buzz that vibrated through your body starting from your fingers and toes, where you could feel every unit of Baby’s intoxicating horsepower, and travelling up your limbs until the exhilaration settled deep within your very core.
Stealing a glance at the rear-view mirror, you caught sight of the monster-driven motorcade advancing considerably, so you decided to take the next available turn as an attempt to throw them off. Things were getting truly exciting now.
“Vamps on bikes? Really?! And covered in leather?” you huffed mirthfully with a shake of your head.
But it was Dean’s turn to ignore you. He was clutching at his door tightly, as if afraid your driving might somehow hurl him out of it. In fact, when you took the first corner without warning, Dean just about fell over.
“Woah! Slow down, Toretto!” he shouted in alarm, looking over at you as if you’d grown a second head.
Seeing you’d managed to surprise the vampires with your unexpected maneuver however, a loaded smirk was your only reply.
It took you about twenty minutes to get the vamps off your tail, during which time Dean managed to recover from his initial shock and began instead to absorb your radiant form. The look of exuberance on your face and the utter determination in your bright eyes, mixed with the mischievous tug of your lips, and combined with the all-around liberated and euphoric aura that surrounded you was sexy as hell, not to mention your sheer competence. All of it astounded him and caused his blood to flow to places he could not have foreseen.
You seemed to be completely at one with his esteemed Baby, handling her with perfect control and aptitude, and all the while enjoying yourself so very much. It was something Dean never knew you were capable of, but more so, it was something he never knew he needed.
Dean had always loved how much you loved and appreciated his car, but this made him feel like he was seeing you in a new light; it made him feel like he was falling for you all over again. That devilish glint in your normally kind and virtuous eyes, your ever jubilant and fervent love for life after enduring so much pain and grief, the way you never ceased to amaze and surprise him – it was all gloriously heady and irresistibly addictive. His teeth couldn’t help but pull at his lower lip, emerald eyes glazing over with lust and adoration as he stared over at you in the driver’s seat.
So when you ultimately pulled into an empty clearing, not wanting to lead the vamps straight back to your motel room, Dean was at a loss for words.
“So, a bloodsucking motorcycle gang, huh? Can’t say I’ve seen that before,” you speculated in a cheery, nonchalant tone, feeling perfectly satisfied after your little stunt driving escapade.
Dean, on the other hand, appeared not unlike a fish out of water with his furrowed brows and pouty lips which appeared undecided as to whether they should remain open or closed.
“That was… I just- You-… I don’t even know…” he ran his hands through his hair, pulling the short strands forward roughly, “What just happened?”
You sent him a small, innocent shrug, rather amused at his adorably stuttery response.
“You never told me you could drive like that.”
“You never asked,” you replied truthfully.
“Fuck, Y/N. That was… so… incredibly…”
What? Your curiosity was killing you. Dean’s opinion always mattered to you and at the moment, you could read a myriad of emotions upon his face. He looked stunned and confused, perhaps a bit frightened, but at the same time awed and impressed, and maybe even – were you reading that right? – slightly… aroused?
Dean lowered his voice to answer your unspoken question, “Hot,” he finished emphatically.
You heaved a breathy laugh, “Yeah?”
“Fuck yes! Baby, that was incredible. The way you handled Baby like a fucking pro, the little faces you made when you were living for the thrill of the chase. The skill, the speed, the Tokyo drifting, all of it. Goddamn, you are so sexy when you’re driving my Baby like that.”
“Well that’s a coincidence ‘cause I also happen to find you amazingly sexy when you’re behind this wheel,” you joked lightly, “In fact, I think seeing you drive this car might’ve been part of the reason I fell in love with you.”
“And I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” came Dean’s suave response.
You giggled a bit, but soon sobered when you saw his gorgeous eyes cloud over with wanton desire. One minute you were dwelling in the heavily charged sexual tension that seemed to consume the entire car, watching his gaze wander down to your lips while yours did the same, and in the next your mouths met ferociously as your bodies swooped forwards simultaneously, crashing together in the center of Baby’s front seat.
You moaned into the kiss, your hands finding their way around Dean’s ridiculously broad shoulders and up to his thick neck. When you were forced to come up for air, his lips began to work their way down to your collar bone. “Mmm, god Dean.”
“Seriously baby, that was such a turn on,” he rambled across your skin, “I didn’t even know driving could be so hot.”
Your laughter was really more just an exhalation of air. “Are we finally gonna do it? Are we gonna christen Baby now, thanks to your newfound kink?” you whispered salaciously, your brain already presenting obscene images of the two of you re-enacting something akin to the infamous Titanic scene.
Dean paused for a moment, allowing you to rip off his outer layers with relish before he brought his large hands up to cup your cheeks. “See I wouldn’t call it ‘newfound’,” he started, dazzling forest orbs boring into your soul, “Cause I’m pretty sure it only turns me on when it’s you behind the wheel, and I’ve always had a kink for you.”
You stare at him in disbelief, unable to keep the smile off your face, “You are such a smooth fucker sometimes, Dean Winchester.” And with that, your lips and bodies collided yet again. His strong hands held you impossibly close while yours ran joyously across his expansive chest before travelling down to find the zipper of his jeans.
“Ungh, wait a sec,” you pulled back a little with knitted brows, a playfully incredulous tone taking over your voice, “Did you call me Dominic Toretto earlier?”
“Well, yeah. You were driving like a madman!” Dean exclaimed candidly.
You smirked, “So does that make you Letty Ortiz?”
“Sweetheart, I will gladly be the Letty to your Dom anytime you want… I still can’t believe you just took me on a high-speed car chase, that was fucking awesome! Just wait ‘til Sam hears about this one!”
Laughing as you pulled him back in, you shut him up with your tongue as it invaded his mouth, pausing only to smile against his luscious lips, “Mmm, well maybe he doesn’t have to hear about this next part?”
A/N #2: thank you so much for reading, feedback always appreciated! oh and here’s a look at some new stuff at lexicolor.redbubble.com :)
#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester x male!reader#dean x you#dean x y/n#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester imagine#supernatural#spn#fanfiction#fanfic#one shot#my writing#text#fanart#lexicolor#redbubble
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rushing decadence: ezra x gender neutral reader
summary: sunflower shows ezra just how much they missed him. part of the voice actor!ezra au but can be read as a stand-alone.
pairing: voice actor!ezra x gender neutral reader
warnings: 18+ only!!! ezra gets pegged, dirty talk, references to masturbation, use of “good boy,” implied feelings, cumplay, ezra truly deserves his own warning
word count: a lil baby, 1.4k+
a/n: took the morning off from thesis wrangling and wrote this instead, lmao. inspired by an ask from the lovely (and devious) @astroboots. no beta. gif credit: @holdingthornsandroses
speechless is not a word you would use to describe ezra. you suspect very few would — the man makes a living from spinning forth words from lips of honey, after all. they are his fortress, his realm, his fae. they are more inimical to his being: a constant force sweeping through wreckage and downy meadows alike.
looking down at him, a smile a crosses your face. it’s small smile, unconscious in its blossoming that tugs the corner of your mouth up, up, up — but only a little. only a little, lest all the fondness you feel for him spill out and pour all over him. you could coat his strong body in the potent stuff and still have more left over. he inspires excess in you and perhaps that should scare you; maybe it does. maybe it does scare you, and that is why you bite your lip to keep the gurgle of words that flood into your mouth at bay, lest your body fall prey to his liquor-filled emotions.
and yet: you have already fallen prey, already played the willing victim of sorts to his cunning and his wit and his seductive smile.
hunter & prey. you & ezra swirl between these roles with little effort. he is used to playing a role and he does so gladly, eager to give as much as he is take. spinning you stories from sugar-spun words, he matches them with his actions. (that is to say: when he says something he means it, loving you with his body as much as his prose).
no, speechless is not how you would describe ezra.
but right now he is dangerously close to such a thing. there is a word for that and you tell him so, cooing sweetly as you brush the matted hair off of his forehead.
“oh, look at you, ezra,” you say. “is my good boy cockdumb?”
consternation rises in his brow at the phrase, competitive to the last. “i do not believe that is the precise description of my current s-state,” he grunts, one hand fisting in the sheets. the veins pop and match the set of his jaw, the dash of his tongue across his swollen lower lip.
swollen from me, you think, a bright yellow glimpse of pride coloring the thought. this had started as your saturday mornings usually do: wrapped in his soft linen sheets caressed by his touch and the tender offerings of sun streaming through his window. it wasn’t long before you had straddled him and kissed him and rocked yourself against him until he was panting, asking if he might be of service to his sunflower. you had nipped his lower lip, then, soothing it with your tongue before ignoring his request. you wanted his moans in your ear today, not your own. his. he had been away too long for you to not miss his wanton cries.
you ask him what the right phrase would be, then, speaking delicately to match the slow grind of your hips into his.
“d-dumb implies” — he takes a deep breath as you notch against a sensitive spot deep inside him — “the inability to s-speak, dear heart.” ezra finishes the sentence with difficulty, letting the endearment run into a low moan. the movement pushes his head deeper into the pillow and exposes his neck, the jump of his pulse plainly visible. an urge to kiss it swoops over you, low and hot and you comply, leaning forward to latch onto the sensitive skin.
you slide out of him slightly with your forward movement and ezra whines. his broad hand settles on your hip while you suck; his grip fiercely digging into your skin as though he can’t decide if he wants to push you away or pull you closer.
releasing his neck, your lips drift to his jaw and nip. “what was that, ezra? i didn’t hear you.”
the smile in his voice is evident, bright tones washing over your back and landing between your legs. “give me reason,” ezra replies equally as coy, “and i assure you i shall have no qualms engaging in repetition.”
his voice, breathy and strung out from the tension in his body, doesn’t have the same edge it usually does. it causes a shiver to run down your spine all the same, fueling the rapacious ache of desire building in you as it builds in him, too.
shifting back down to settle once more between his legs, you reward him with shallow thrusts. not enough to give him what he wants, but enough to remind him that he can have it — if he only asks.
catching sight of his cock, you grin again. curled against his stomach, it’s leaking from the tip, clearly wanting for attention.
“remember when i recorded us, ezra?” you ask, still teasing him as your hips move lightly, just brushing in and out. “remember when i recorded us in the studio, and i came in your mouth?”
he nods, blonde streak catching in the sunlight and the grip constricts around your hip. move faster, he’s trying to say. if you did, you think, maybe you could get him to come untouched.
did you listen to it when you were gone; did you come in your hand thinking about the way i tasted? i did, ezra; i thought about you all the time, you tell him.
his responding cry gets caught in his throat before strangling free. “please,” he begs, lifting his hips to chase yours, desperate for increased friction.
“please what, ezra?” but the strain peeks through your voice as well, the words heavy and hot on your tongue; they’re languorous, almost, in their immutability.
more, he finally breathes. darkened eyes that nevertheless glimmer in the morning sun meet your own and you smile, pleased to finally give him what you both want.
your thrusts become deeper and your hips lock, refraining from the urge to be sloppy. there’s no need to; you can already tell that he’s close enough without your being wrecked, too.
instead, you focus on precision, shamelessly slamming your hips into him over and over again, rubbing that spot that makes him babble praise. “i’m — oh shit — i’m so full,” he manages to whisper, another moan accompanying the admission.
“so full on what, ezra?” you ask, starting to pant yourself with the effort. “be a good boy and say it.”
“fucking hell, sunflower,” he drawls, eyes fluttering shut, as though that will protect him from the sight of you fucking him with abandon. “so full on — so full on your cock, sweetheart.”
impatient, your hand raises nearly of its own volition and smears the precum across tip, drawing another ragged whine from his lips. a finger runs the length of the swollen vein and he twitches, stomach muscles tensing at your relentless pace, at the feel of your hands on him.
i listened to you all the time when you were gone, you tell him, pumping his length in time with your thrusts. i wanted you cum all over me again; i missed it; i missed you.
“my dear sunflower,” ezra says, half-pleading, half-whining, a shaken timbre to his words, “if you fail to cease your actions you will be rewarded with what you seek.”
but that’s what i want, ezra; i want you to cum; be a good boy and make a mess; let it spill all over; you’ve been so good for me; i know it feels so good, baby.
words are never ezra’s undoing — they are his lens — and that is what undoes him more than anything, more than the grind of your hips, more than your hands teasing his cock.
the image, your voice, your hands, your hips, your praise: it’s all too much for him to hold out and ezra comes with a shout to kevva, head tilting back once more as hot ropes of come shoot out over his stomach and dribble onto your hand.
easing out of him, you stay nestled between his legs and lift a hand to swirl a finger in the stuff, gathering it on your finger. feeling his molten, if sated, gaze on you, you bring the finger to your mouth, letting your tongue peek out to taste just a drop before engulfing the entire digit between your lips, swirling your tongue around the tip.
“even better than i remembered,” you tell him shakily. now that ezra has reached his satisfaction your own need has reared up and the ache between your legs gnaws low in your belly. the sight of his reaction to you doesn’t help either — his come smeared over his stomach, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright with pleasure.
as if sensing your need, ezra tugs your wrist away from your mouth and uses the leverage to bring you closer. “come here, sunflower,” he rasps. “now it is my turn to enjoy your cries.”
fin.
tags for the bastard boyfriend: @frannyzooey @clan-djarin @astroboots @softdin @freeshavocadoooo @princessxkenobi @keeper0fthestars @thewayofthemandalorian @darthadeline @ennuiandthebourgeoisie @cannedsoupsucks @forever-rogue @kat-r-in @wyofabdoms @leonieb @javisjeanjacket @spvce-cowboy @agirllovespancakes @phoenixhalliwell @mitchi-c @salome-c @amneris21 @maciiiofficial @dindja @Velia7 @kesskirata @spideysimpossiblegirl @magpie-to-the-morning @javierpcna @julesorwhatever @lazybeeches @pedropascaldice @artsymaddie
#ezra x reader#ezra (prospect) x reader#ezra x gender neutral reader#prospect 2018#cris writes#adult tag#throwing this out into the void okay bye#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfiction#usernobie#userdindja#userchrisann#voice actor!ezra
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Hey flick! Just read your last fic with poor el and I was just thinking about a potential dynamic between Elliot and Charlie, where Elliot is sick from maybe going through vamp transition stuff and Charlie is around somehow (maybe visiting Shane, or if you can’t figure it out you could just swap him with Shane lol). I could see if Elliot was just mildly sick that Charlie would know to back off and give him some space, but if it was more serious I feel like his deep and intense drive to mother the everloving shit out of people might be too much for him to resist trying to take care of the poor grumpy boi. And besides, Elliot is Shane’s family, so like he feels like he’s GOTTA help even more😂 meanwhile Elliot is annoyed at first but slowly warms up because a) he’s sick as hell and could really use someone to make sure he doesn’t die, and b) Shane trusts Charlie and that’s gotta mean something, right?
I hope this is okay!! My brain has NOT been cooperating with me lately so it's a little messy. This sort of focuses on Charlie’s issues with Elliott.
CW: emeto, blood mention (drank), fear, mistrust
___
"Shit," Shayne sighed as he stared into the boot of Elliott's car, where he and Charlie had just shoved their luggage for the weekend.
"What?" Charlie asked, twisting on the back seat to look back at him.
"I forgot to pack my Docs. Can I get the keys?"
"Lovely, it's 25 degrees all weekend," Charlie laughed, pushing open the car door to lean out and talk to Shayne properly. "Do you really think you'll need them?"
Shayne curled his lip in an exaggerated pout and put out his hand. Charlie dug the house keys out of his pocket and relinquished them, finding himself rewarded with a dark-eyed wink.
"I'll only be a sec," Shayne promised.
"Mmhmm, take your time," Charlie grinned. He shut his door again and watched Shayne jog back towards the house. That was when his gaze fell on the back of Elliott's head, and then on the vampire's hand, which was draped over the top of the steering wheel while his fingers drummed rapidly against the dash.
"Sorry," Charlie chuckled anxiously, wondering when he'd started feeling the need to apologise for Shayne. He tilted his head to try to meet Elliott's gaze in the rear-view mirror, with little success thanks to his dark aviator sunglasses.
"It's fine," Elliott murmured.
"Thanks again for driving us."
Charlie's heart sank when seconds ticked by and Elliott didn't reply again. He really couldn't tell if Elliott was mad or if he was just this closed-off.
Shouldn't have told Shayne to take his time. Should have told him to hurry the fuck up.
Charlie sat back in his seat and put on his seatbelt, taking his time and smoothing out the strap over his shoulder. The awkwardness in the car was as much his own fault as it was Elliott's. He still got shivers down his spine when he recalled that day in the park, and the fear and panic that had taken hold of Shayne when he'd realised Elliott was spying on them; he just couldn't shake the mistrust that had planted itself in him.
Not just that, but on the drive home that same day, Elliott had refused to pull over when his own boyfriend claimed to be carsick, resulting in the poor boy throwing up all over himself.
Plus, Elliott was way too conventionally attractive for Charlie to trust him.
Asshole.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Elliott asked lazily, presumably meeting his eye through his sunglasses in the mirror now.
“I – I, my what?” Charlie stammered, shifting in his seat. For a horrible second, he was worried that Charlie Two’s thoughts had slipped out through his mouth. “Nothing. I have no thoughts.”
“Right,” Elliott mumbled, and he might have burped quietly into his fist just then, but Charlie couldn’t be sure. He could have been clearing his throat. “I’m sure you’ve got absolutely no thoughts on any subject.”
Charlie shook his head and turned his head to look out the opposite window. The wind was brushing across the edges of the trees.
Sarcastic asshole, Charlie Two pointed out from inside his head.
Shayne is also sarcastic.
Yes, but he’s our sarcastic asshole.
Stop saying ‘asshole’!
There was a harsh click as Elliott pushed open the drivers’ side door. He was huffing deeply, as far as Charlie could make out.
Shit. Charlie cleared his throat.
Shit, indeed. Was it something you said?
“Elliott?” Charlie called out, throwing open his own door when Elliott slammed his shut. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, just excuse me a minute.”
“Oh, okay.” Charlie sank a little further down in his seat, stomach sinking. Had he really said something? Did Elliott now think he’d muttered ‘asshole’ under his breath, referring to him? He knew he should go after him and explain, but the idea of facing Elliott when he was mad at him made Charlie’s guts turn to water.
His car door was still open and he could hear Elliott’s shoes crunching on the gravel. The sound halted abruptly when the vampire was a few more feet away, and then there was a harsh retch that made Charlie’s hair stand on end.
“Oh, god...” Charlie fumbled to release himself from the seatbelt he was still strapped in with. As soon as he was out of the car, he spotted where Elliott had stopped to hunch over, hands planted on his knees and his ponytail flopping over the top of his head.
Elliott looked up at the sound of the gravel crunching, and Charlie almost physically recoiled at the sight of the blood and bile clinging to his lips and chin. Charlie took a deep breath, feeling endlessly thankful that he hadn’t had any breakfast yet.
“Are you okay?” he asked, as steadily as he could.
“Don’t come any fuckin’ closer.”
“Right. Sorry.” Charlie’s feet rooted themselves dutifully to the spot, but his heart still twisted with sympathy at how frail Elliott suddenly looked when at the mercy of his own rebelling stomach. “Do – do you need something?”
“No!” Elliott yelled, though as he did, he doubled over again, jaw wrenched apart as another gag ripped through him. Nothing seemed to come up but a deep, nauseated belch, but it still made Charlie shudder and swallow thickly.
Another belch brought up a splash of liquid, and Charlie had to turn away. He was feeling hot and squirmy. Without thinking too much, he decided to be productive despite Elliott’s resistance; after all, it wasn’t exactly his first time dealing with a sick person who didn’t want to be taken care of. It was almost “his thing” at this point.
Charlie paced back to Elliott’s car and turned out the contents of the glove box until he found a pocket-sized packet of tissues. He also remembered that he had a bottle of water in his backpack, so he grabbed that from the back seat.
Luckily, by the time he crossed the gravel again, Elliott’s body seemed to have finished purging itself. He was standing upright at least, and had pushed his aviators up into his hair. He only gave a mild glare as Charlie approached him.
“Here,” Charlie said softly.
“Do not touch me,” Elliott growled as he took the tissues. He did a double-glance towards Charlie as he pulled one out of the packet. “Thank you.”
“Mmhmm.” Charlie smiled tightly and looked away as Elliott mopped his face. To his relief, the front door of the house opened just then and Shayne stepped out, glancing over at the two of them before locking it behind him. Charlie gave him a listless wave.
“Water?” Elliott rasped next to Charlie, making him jump.
“Right! Sorry. Here you go.” Charlie turned to hand it to him, that pained smile still plastered across his face. He seriously couldn't shake the fact that this guy could sprout massive fangs and rip the side out of his neck with no effort at all.
Elliott’s eyes were so golden they almost glistened in the low sunshine, yet without the sunglasses, Charlie could see the dark circles they cast. His eyebrows were furrowed and flecked with sweat, and yet the vampire managed a half-smile as he unscrewed the cap on Charlie’s water bottle.
“Thanks, Charlie.”
“You’re welcome,” Charlie replied, and although it felt a little stiff, it wasn’t quite as stiff as it could have been.
"Everything okay?" Shayne asked, crunching his way across the gravel towards them, his Docs hanging from one hand and the house keys dangling from the other.
After filling his mouth with water, Elliott spat the liquid back out again, making a queasy face. "Much better now."
"Yeah," Charlie breathed, grabbing the keys from Shayne and taking his hand while he was at it. "Better now."
#emeto#emeto fic#sickfic#vampire emeto#vampire sickfic#swallow the world#StW Elliott#StW Charlie#my OCs#OC sickfic#OC emeto#stomach kink#stomach ache fic#vampire fic
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A GAME OF DIAMONDS AND HEARTS // H.O.
>> CHAPTER THREE
"The Gates of hell are open night and day, smooth the descent, and easy is the way..." - Aeneid, Virgil
(Frenemies to Lovers! Mob AU! ) Harrison Osterfield x Fem!OC
Word count: 2.17k words
Warning: Swearing, gun violence, car chase, full on action, cool dudes, anxiety and fluff in case you forget to blink ;)
Synopsis: After the sudden death of his uncle and the eccentric multi-millionaire mafia king Lufian Clarke, Harrison Osterfield’s almost decent life is mostly devastated especially when half of what should be rightfully his fortune is transferred to their immediate rival for reasons he doesn’t know. What’s remaining is him trying to figure out how to deal with this collaboration of two rival corporations that don’t belong together and work on the side of the woman he never knew would ever be referred to as his partner in crime while they are dragged into a mess bigger than what they were trained to handle.
A/N: The amount of time I waste on making these moodboards-- (I literally coloured the black and white pictures 💀 )
<< TWO [ MASTERLIST ] FOUR >>
A moment passed.
A shallow gust of wind tickled Harrison's left ear, making him squirm. He leaned back, pulling his rolled up sleeves down and buttoning them at his wrist followed by pressing the creases on his shirt—a habit of his, a ritual he can't seem to put away even when there was a sniper aimed at his head.
Worse. All this could be a trick.
Worst. It wasn't.
All in all, time wasn't the currency, Harrison had at his disposal. Yet, he found himself shoving a penny straight into the slot machine.
He cleared his throat in a failed attempt at clearing his foggy mind, "Don't you think, you shouldn't have let go of Tom?"
The more men, the better chances of survival. It worked this way, right?
Sandhya sighed, exasperated, the flicker of the candle animating a dance on her face was seemingly more lively than her at the moment.
"We suspect, at least one of your men were involved in Clarke's murder. Also," She paused, chuckling nervously, "I won't lie, I was expecting something like this to happen but not today, not right now." She referred to the rifle aimed at them.
"I am seriously...uh... ugh..." Harrison didn't know if there were proper words in the vernacular to reply to this. All he could do was grit his teeth.
How long will this day go, anyway? What was it? The solstice? Do solstice last this long?
In his prognosis, if he had one more revelation this day, especially if it had something or anything to do with the dead man, his brain would melt and leak out of his ears. On the non-fictitious scale: He would rip off his hair or empty a loaded .44 magnum into the head of the person closest to him.
But there were his men involved in Clarke's murder? His men?
And their respectable leader, Harrison Osterfield was trapped in a life and death situation, waiting for a can of smoke to allow him to escape? And on top of that, he was taking orders from one of their enemies?
What if it was her plan? What if she killed the old man? She had inherited his fortune— it was enough of evidence for Harrison to draw that conclusion even in its scant or flimsy state. He won't be surprised if she wanted him dead as much as he wanted her to be. Or that the sniper was one of her men. Or everything happening was a part of her bigger plan.
He had a pistol tucked away in his sock, maybe he could catch her at gunpoint?
The instant he glanced at the mirror of her flapjack, she had placed between them, he discarded the idea. No avail. The sniper could easily target him.
He was fucked up.
He could hear his life ticking away.
A click of tin hitting the floor ignited the dying flame in his heart. He felt Sandhya's hand slip over his, delicate fingers tapping against the back of his hand, gliding over his square signet ring that was sitting on his middle finger for ages now, moving further away to feel his rough, wounded knuckles, he never seemed to care about.
She appeared as afraid as him. Or maybe it was part of her plan. Harrison wasn't sure if it was the mutual fear they felt or the gesture, the little ministrations she drew over the back of his hand that had managed to ease his nerves, at least for the time being. His eyes swerved up, locking with hers again, her lips forming the words he was waiting to hear.
"Now!" She screamed on the top of her voice, retracting her hand as the smoke leaked out of the can, suspending itself into the air.
Harrison leapt on cue, ducking below the table. A single shot hits the wood of the chair, he was previously sitting on.
He tried to make the best use of the blindness that the grey smoke offered, pulling the table cloth in a swift motion. The wine and the lit candles fell over the fabric, igniting a fire. The flames and the smoke rose quickly, fanned by the stiff breeze, consuming the Pinterest worthy setting in a matter of seconds as he watched Sandhya's shadowy figure hopping off from the other side of the balcony, her red heels discarded by the decorated flower pots.
In a heartbeat, the fire alarm goes off followed by another shot. The people eating in the restaurant shrieked almost simultaneously as the second shot is wasted, their screams never subsiding as they run around, knocking over things, trying to get the hell out of the building.
Amidst the mist, Harrison grabbed the railing of the balcony, hopping off it, climbing down as promptly as he could, hearing more bullets fire on the place he just abandoned.
His planned smooth landing on the freshly mowed grass goes awry as he stumbles, falling over his knee in an attempt at dodging a shot that went over right his head, almost touching his hair.
There were more gunmen. His expressions were that of horror.
He quickly rose to his feet, pulling the pistol tucked in his sock out, looking around and over his shoulder before squeezing the trigger twice.
A man dressed in the waiter's attire fell from the first floor along with his rifle, hitting the ground, crumbling next to Harrison's feet, presumably dead.
Harrison didn't check. He was sure.
Aim. He was good at it. Way too good.
He paced his way with the pistol pointed downrange, pulling the slide back with his thumb and forefinger to the street full of chaos with people running in all directions, fire alarms blaring in the background. A maroon sedan stopped abruptly in front of him, a quarter of an inch away from hitting him and transporting him directly to hell.
He opened his mouth to swear but the driver was the first to flung the door open. He had red-brown shaggy hair, probably a result of the wind and was dressed in a grey trench coat with the belt undone. His eyes were hidden behind black wraparound mirror shades, hiding most of his face.
The only thing that sparked Harrison's interest was the shotgun poorly concealed inside his coat.
"Get in." Two words, another order. The driver was definitely way older than him, he could tell by his deep, rusty voice. The driver pushed the long barrelled gun in his direction.
Harrison groaned, shoving himself into the passenger seat, accepting the new weapon, discarding the smaller gun and shutting the door behind him.
"Where is she? Where is Sandhya?" Harrison demanded, looking over at the back seat, his frown deepening into a scowl but the driver popped the car into reverse and stormed the accelerator, hard, sending him flying backwards, his back hitting against the backrest.
"She'll meet us halfway." The driver replied, his eyes never leaving the road. Harrison settled himself on the polyester seat, taking a breath before the car took a sharp turn, almost knocking his head against the window.
"Watch out!" The driver warned and Harrison peeked at the rear view mirror.
A black Escalade SUV lunged towards them at a speed higher than theirs. At least four passengers were sitting in it, two of them pushed their heads out of the windows, hands holding shotguns, aiming a shot at the vehicle he was sitting in.
They ducked down, both Harrison and the driver evading the bullets fired at them. The rear windshield blew out with a boom and a crash, spraying glass over the unoccupied backseat.
Enough.
Harrison slid his window down, ducking again when more bullets were shot at them, before aiming straight to the front tire.
He fired one— two— three shots, one followed by the other. The third one successfully hits the wheel. He watched with a triumphant grin pasted over his face as the attacker's car tumbled, crashing against the telephone pole, now motionless.
But his grin didn't last long when they crossed the intersection. Two more cars emerged from the two sides, the same model as the one he had just shot down.
The panic was real this time. He could even hear police sirens.
What the actual fuck?
"We need to hurry!" Harrison instructed, restless in his seat, watching the black SUVs and the white police cruisers, red sirens blazing on their head, racing behind them.
It was a real chase.
They zoomed through the street, feeling alternately light and heavy as they shifted in their seats, leaning right and left as the roads forked as they sailed through the busy traffic, ignoring the honking cars, even honking themselves. The buildings, streets and the traffic began to blur as they raced down, veering frantically to avoid their pursuers.
A ray of hope: Another intersection. The signal was three seconds into turning red.
Perfect.
"You can do this..." Harrison whispered like a prayer, eyes glimmering with hope, focusing more on the road than the man operating the steering he knew nothing about, except for his remarkable prowess as a getaway driver.
You can do this!
The driver panted, breathing with his mouth as he puts the car into the sixth gear, pressing the accelerator as hard as he could, flooring the sedan through the blinking signal, it turning red the exact moment they tear through it.
The pedestrian cars came to a halt upon the red signal, breaking hard, forming a chain, successfully blocking the way of both the attackers and the cops.
The driver barked out a laugh, the type falling more into the category of a chortle than an actual laugh (not that Harrison cared), taking off his shades, shoving them inside his coat, a proud smile plastered on his face as he weaves from lane to lane, disappearing under a bridge, finally stepping on to the much calmer highway.
"Kevin." The driver muttered.
"Huh?" Harrison responded with a questioning look. The guy was at least fifty-five years old, Harrison could tell now. His natural grey hair stood in contrast with his dyed copper ones, adding to his overall charm. His adventurous demeanour has previously mistaken him for being any younger.
Stretching a left hand, "My name is Kevin," the driver clarified, his light brown eyes meeting momentarily with Harrison's blue ones.
Harrison nodded, putting away his gun, wiping the sweat on his palm over his pants, before taking his hand for a brief shake.
"Harrison," He offered his own name.
"I know," Kevin replied nonchalantly, shifting his focus back to the road.
The blond turned to the other side, head leading against the headrest, glancing out of the window, watching the scenery move backwards, carefree as a lark for once, until the driver slowed the vehicle down, parking at the side, near a divergence where a 91' Accord waited for them.
He leapt out of the car. Harrison followed suit.
Taking the back seat of the switch car, alongside a woman that wasn't Sandhya, Kevin slumped into the cushions, stretching his hands over his head, shutting his eyes, probably tired (of course), taking the much needed break. The woman, on the other hand, was busy typing away on her laptop, wired headphones tucked into her ears.
Another man emerged from the passenger seat, passing Harrison on the way, his face invisible in the dim highway lights, taking the maroon sedan. Harrison replaced him, getting into the switch car, sitting on the front, the only seat that was left unoccupied.
"Welcome back." The voice on the driver's seat greeted him.
Sandhya.
Harrison snorted, choosing not to turn his neck to meet her face and rather settling on passing a mere glance at her with a side eye.
She was back to wearing her coat, raven hair whipped by the wind, loose strands sticking over her face, her makeup no longer intact and slightly greasy, except for her bold red lipstick, sitting over her smiling mouth, complimenting her smooth dusky skin.
She pulled the gear, pressing on the pedal, putting the car in motion, its engine roaring for a full minute, her right hand on the wheel, left hand ceaselessly turning the dial of the radio back and forth, till Blinding Lights echoed from the speakers. She kept the volume low, possibly because of the other woman busy on her laptop, definitely because of the man dozing off, sitting behind them. But that didn't stop her from mouthing the lyrics or sway her body with the tunes.
Harrison looked away, outside the window, head slightly out, chin pressed against one of his hands he had kept over the window edge, feeling the cold air hit his face harder when she shifted the gear, speeding off the vehicle.
A ghost of a smile flickered over his lips, the upbeat music filling his ears.
He had different plans...
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…TO BE CONTINUED…
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#harrison osterfield#haz osterfield#harrison osterfield series#harrison osterfield fanfiction#harrison osterfield fanfic#harrison osterfield imagine#harrison osterfield x reader#mob haz#mob! haz#haz osterfield series#haz osterfield imagine#haz osterfield fanfiction#haz osterfield fanfic#harrison osterfield moodboard#agodah fic#agodah
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Whumptober 2021: Day 4
Word Count: 2048 || Read on AO3
Tags/Warnings: Batman, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Open/Ambiguous End, Injury, Referenced Violence/Violent Acts, Family Feels, Implied/Possible Death
me, chanting: father-son feelings, father-son feelings, father-son fee--
Jason looked between the window and the locked door, determined to ignore the flickering, orange glow peeking in through the gap between it and the floor. He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth as he spared a look at Bruce, half-slumped and wheezing softly against an alarmingly warm wall midway between the two. They’d trudged up the stairs earlier, Bruce limping and leaning most of his weight on Jason, in an attempt to hide out and recover after their mission had gone tits up in the most spectacular ways. A real prize winner, he thought to himself, derisive and sarcastic.
He sucked in a shuddering breath and tipped his head back to stare up at the ceiling, sorely missing the familiar weight of his helmet — abandoned after some now-toothless idiot had smashed it to pieces. The fault, he knew, lay at his feet if Bruce died. It almost made him laugh. Maybe he would have, if he’d ever really wanted Bruce dead, back before he’d wormed his way back into the family’s mostly-good graces.
“Fuck,” he growled, dropping his head down to drag a gloved hand roughly, painfully, through his hair. “Ten story fall, or trial by fire?” he asked Bruce, knowing the Bat could barely hear him, let alone parse out what, exactly, he’d said. A few hits to the head with a blunt object would do that to a guy, no matter their bull-headed, mile-wide stubborn streak.
Never one to let an injury get in his way or find a way to prove Jason wrong, Bruce managed to muster up a rumbling grumble in response that sounded, to him, a lot like “try harder.” He huffed, shooting the barely conscious man a mild glare. Not that Bruce deserved it much, at least not this time. This time the fault lay primarily at Jason’s feet — a mixture of bad intel, overconfidence, and his inability to pass up any chance to rile the Batman up. Bruce’s only real error in their situation had been trusting Jason enough to not be an overly paranoid asshole just this once, leaving them locked in a room with no working comms, no backup, not a single one of their gadgets still intact — the ones those assholes hadn’t taken at least — and two incredibly awful options for escape.
Or, he mused, death. But Jason wasn’t too keen on giving that experience another go.
He groaned, the acrid smell of smoke wafting in from under the door growing slowly stronger with every passing minute, and started to pace a straight line from window to door and back again. Every so often he stopped — to breathe, to reach for his pistols wishing he could shoot his way out of their situation, to check on Bruce, to think — before picking the trail back up, seemingly intent on wearing a hole through the linoleum flooring.
Every so often his thoughts strayed to things that might help him in a day or two, after he and Bruce were safe, but did nothing for him now. Who started the fire? Had they been found? Was his luck just that shitty, that the first place he’d chosen to hide out in just so happened to light up? It was a struggle to wrangle them back to something useful or productive, but he managed. Mostly.
There had to be another angle he couldn’t see, anything at all he might have missed. But there was nothing. No matter how hard or how often he looked into every nook or cranny or upended piece of old, rotting furniture, there was nothing.
“Fuck!” he yelled, slamming his fist in some shoddy desk he’d shoved over at some point earlier and earned himself nothing more than a dull throb of pain. It didn’t even help cool him off which just further fanned the flames — hah! — of his anger, the core of it a molten, leaden thing, suffocating and sparking in the pit of his chest.
He stomped back to the window, peered out through the cracked, still-cool glass, and sighed, doing his inadequate best to expel as much anger and frustration as he could with his breath.
It’ll be fine, he told himself, unsure if he really believed it.
__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Every inch of Bruce’s body hurt, some of it so badly he coudn’t feel it at all.
He sucked in a wheezing, rattling breath and shifted just enough to see Jason at the window, forehead pressed against the glass. He gritted his teeth, frustrated but not bothering to waste what little energy he could spare on wishing their circumstances were any different. Instead, he poured it into standing, using every ounce of that bullheadedness he was so known for to force himself, however shakily, to his feet.
Every step forward was agony and the room, more gray than color by then, swayed nauseatingly as he made his slow way across the stretch of room that lay between him and his son.
His son.
Those words pulled at a small, shuttered part of Bruce’s heart. Jason had been the second child he’d taken in, almost a teenager by then, but he’d been the first Bruce had been able to refer to, loud and proud, as his son. He remembered Alfred and Jason both teasing him for how brightly he’d grin as he said it, the words sweet as honey on his tongue: “My son.”
He’d watched his son die, once.
He staggered, exhaustion dragging at his every limb those final few steps until he stood, quietly heaving for breath, just behind Jason who didn’t notice him until he reached up to grab his shoulder with one heavy, gauntleted hand.
Bruce would not stand by and watch his son die again.
__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Jason startled when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, weak fingers curling into his battered jacket. He whirled around, tense and ready for a fight, only to find Bruce there, panting softly and swaying in place. The sight of him — pale, sweaty, breathless, and hunched — made his his stomach twist uncomfortably. He opened his mouth, unsure if he wanted to scream at or scold Bruce for being an injured idiot, or help the poor man sit his ass down and breathe only to have the decision ripped out of his hands.
“Jay,” Bruce rasped, breathy and strained and so unnaturally quiet that Jason ached.
He swallowed, a bitter mix of saliva and regret, and reached out to grab Bruce’s forearms, hoping to steady him at least a little. Bruce sagged, just slightly, when his weight wasn’t his own to bear anymore. Jason couldn’t help but squeeze his arms, a slight pressure meant to offer what silent reassurance and comfort he knew, deep down into the core of him, he’d never be able to say aloud.
“You shouldn’t be standing, old man,” he said instead of the myriad of things he wanted to, but never would. Bruce offered him a tight, wobbly smile — the kind Jason hadn’t really seen on his face since before the Joker and the warehouse and his first, explosive death.
“Jay,” Bruce said again, his every word slow and measured in a way that could have been intentional, or a result of how much pain he was in. “Do you trust me?”
“What?”
“Do you trust me?” Jason blinked, feeling a little too much like his brain had short-circuited.
“Wh— I.” He grimaced. Swallowed. Felt a sudden surge of prickling static buzzing under his skin, close to but not quite like the rush of adrenaline that came before a fight. “Yeah,” he finally managed to say, strangled and pitchy. “Yeah, Bruce. I trust you. Always have,” he added, low enough that he hoped Bruce hadn’t even heard it.
Bruce nodded, head jerking up and down like it hurt to move his neck that way. Jason’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth, meant to ask what the hell was going on, only to snap his jaw shut when Bruce’s hands pressed against his chest. He wondered, brief and panicked, if Bruce was having trouble staying upright and tried to adjust his grip on Bruce’s arms accordingly.
“How long of a fall?” Bruce asked, sudden but sounding almost bored even as the words were a struggle to get out. Jason’s lip curled, a small spark of anger dousing some of his concern as Bruce’s line of continued questions gave him whiplash.
“Ten stories at least, but—”
“I saw … water?”
“Yeah,” Jason growled, annoyed at being cut off and not understanding where Bruce was trying to lead him. Because he was leading. Jason had known the man too long not to recognize that tone of voice, even pained and wheezy as it currently was. “Ocean, right off the cliff,” he said, half-falling into the familiarity of reporting to the Bat. “Bad building design to have it so close to the edge, but I figure that might be why it’s abandoned.” He shrugged. “It’d be a good way out if you angled it right, but…”
But you’re too injured and I’d never make it carrying you, he thought but didn’t say. Bruce seemed to understand regardless.
Slowly, painfully, Bruce reached up and pulled back his cowl. Jason hissed at the damage: most of it bruises, a few cuts, one eye nearly swollen shut, and the very clear impression of the pair of hands that had tried to strangle him wrapped around his neck. With that same hand, Bruce reached out to briefly touch Jason’s cheek, good eye crinkling as his lips twitched up into another, probably painful, smile.
“Proud of you,” Bruce murmured, the words a little slurred. Jason reared back, flinching like Bruce had struck him instead of telling him … that.
“What’re you—” he started only for Bruce to pat the side of his face. Twice. Two gentle, trembling taps that made Jason feel all of thirteen and no taller than Bruce’s chest instead of a man standing eye-to-eye with, if not a little taller than, the person who’d been his father, once. Was his father, still, even if Jason refused to acknowledge it even to himself.
“Proud of you,” Bruce repeated. Paused. Then: “Love you, Jay.”
Tears pricked, sudden and awful, at his eyes. A million words and feeling stuck in his throat, all jumbled together and conspiring to make it impossible for him to speak. Anger and confusion and bitterness at first, all familiar and easy to put a name to. But then: a gooey sort of tingling warmth that spread up from his stomach, so much harder to name and overwhelming on top of that.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jason snarled, letting himself fall back on the familiar anger he’d relied on for years, and finding it easier than trying to shape the only other words he could have possibly used in the face of that — Confession? Admission? Declaration? None of it felt quite right, and he didn’t have the time to sort his thoughts out just then. Nor did he want to. “What’re you playing at, Bruce? ‘Cause I’m not fuckin’ laughing here.”
“Hold your breath.”
“What?”
It happened so fast.
One moment Jason stood in front of Bruce with his back to the window and the next he was in the air, watching Bruce — His Father — shrink, smaller and smaller until he was just a smudge of black against the bright, burning light of a building being slowly consumed. He didn’t scream. Didn’t think. His body moved automatically, years of training kicking in without so much as a conscious thought from him.
He still hit the water wrong.
It surged up around him, frigid, violent waves swallowing him hungrily as he fought down the urge to scream and worked instead on finding his way to the surface. He didn’t think about anything but moving through the current, gritting his teeth against the sharp, mind-numbing pain in his lower body, and did his best not to drown. Not to die. Not now that he had a goal to strive for in the neat little checklist he arranged in his head as he sank: a shore to find, a cliff-face to climb, and an idiot of a father to punch in the face.
And Jason was nothing if not a goal-oriented bastard with a stubborn streak to rival the Bat’s.
#whumptober2021#no.4#do you trust me#batman#jason todd#bruce wayne#fic#injury#violence#implied death#my fanfic
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Kinktober #10: Sharp Objects: Bucky Barnes
You think you’re invincible. Bucky thinks he’s not worth saving. Neither are true.
Characters: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader
Warnings: smut (18+ please!) knife play (no cutting), rough sex, definite dom!bucky vibes, angst, bucky being a self-loathing jackass
Notes: I’m running out of title ideas.
Today’s prompt was “Knife Kink.” Aaaand I’m back on the angst. I can’t help it. There’s something about Marvel characters that just scream ‘make me hurt!’ But don’t think the MHA babies are exempt. Plenty of angst for them in the future.
Kinktober Masterlist
The mission is an absolute clusterfuck.
Not only do the two of you fail to collect the information you’d been sent to gather, you barely manage to escape with your lives. It takes you an extra hour to get back to the safehouse that night, taking a labyrinth of extra turns and detours to throw anyone who might have followed you off your scent.
By the time the tiny cabin comes into view, it’s well past dark. You and Bucky are both exhausted. And he’s in a mood. He hasn’t said one word to you since you got in the car,a rusty old pickup with no backseat and a window that sticks on one side. Outside, the wind is starting to pick up, and when you kick open the driver’s side door the late autumn chill blows right through you.
Bucky crunches sullen and heavy across the gravel, taking up the rear as you both hurry in. By the time you shut out the wind behind you, the tiny cabin might as well be a luxury hotel. You’re just glad to be somewhere safe.
You let out a sigh as you shuck out of your coat and gloves.
“That was a close call,” you quip conversationally. The silence has stretched so thin between you- you need to break it.
“Like hell it was.” His voice comes so low and grumbly that if you were anybody else, you wouldn’t hear him. But you’re used to reading his mumbles by now. Irritation spikes somewhere behind your right eye and you turn back towards him, arms folded over your combat gear.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I told you to get your ass outta there. Not jump between me and the fucking bullet.”
“I’m sorry,” you quip, sliding your hands to your hips. “Are you referring to the moment in which I saved your goddamned ass?”
“Not an ass worth saving,” he growls back at you, and now you’re going to have to go there. You’ve been really hoping his stormy mood wasn’t caused by this, but apparently you know him better than you ever thought you did.
“No way,” you insist. You’re squaring up with him, but he’s not backing down. He’s close- closer than you’d realized, towering over you like he can scare you into agreeing that he’s disposable. “We’re not going there tonight, Buck, we’re not.”
“There’s nowhere to go,” he retorts. “’S just the truth. You got any idea what would have happened if you got hit? If you actually got hurt?”
“I prefer not to dwell on things that didn’t actually happen.”
He’s had enough. He grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you against the wall, pinning you there with the weight of his own form. His face is so close that his nose brushes yours, his breath puffing hot over your chin.
“You think you’re so fucking tough,” he hisses, grabbing your chin and forcing your eyes to his. You’re not sure exactly where this is coming from, but you’re not about to argue. It’s not the first time he’s gotten a little rough with you. And you’ve made it clear before that you’re okay with it.
He kisses you with bruising passion and you melt into it, bracing your palms against his chest. He loses patience with the foyer quickly and scoops you into his arms. The brace of his metal arm, carrying your weight so securely, is as immensely reassuring now as it was the first time.
He navigates you smoothly across the space of your one-room cabin and deposits you on the bed. In any other situation you might be concerned by the cloud of dust that puffs up around you as you land on the blankets, but you’ve got a pretty good distraction at the moment.
Bucky shrugs off the top half of his tactical gear with practiced ease. Then he’s working away at yours, undoing the straps, buckles, and zipper that hold it together. He shoves the whole thing down to your elbows, then he’s on you again, kissing and nipping down the side of your neck and making you shiver and moan.
You’re just starting to get invested when you spot him reach down his side out of the corner of your eye. He flips his hand back with something heavy and shiny curled in his fingers, and in a sharp jerk he’s got the blade of his combat knife pressed to your throat.
For a moment, you stare up at him in confusion and betrayal, but the lust that glints in his eyes proves that it’s all part of his game.
“I knew it,” he growls. “You get off on this shit, don’t you? No wonder you were so eager to throw yourself in the line of fire for me.”
He presses the knife just a little firmer against your skin- hard enough that you feel the cool sharpness of the blade. But he’s precise, and he knows exactly how still to hold it, so it doesn’t slide against your flesh and cut you.
He keeps the knife there with one hand as he works your combat gear down over your hips. He pulls it away long enough to get his pants undone, but then he’s got the blade at your throat again. It might as well be a steel chain wrapped around your windpipe, since as long as you feel its frosted press, you can’t breathe.
“Gonna fuck you just like this,” he snarls, stroking his cock- already stiff and flushed at the tip. You want to put up a fuss, but you just part your thighs for him and let out another whimper of your own desire. He’s going to find out soon enough, but you’re soaked for him like this.
He lines up with slow, careful measure, but as soon as he’s there he slams into you without mercy. Your spine goes concave as you arch up against him, forcing your shoulders into the mattress to keep your head down and your throat away from his blade.
He flips the blade as he starts to fuck you, pumping his hips against yours with brutal slaps.
“Fuck, sweetness, you’re dripping for me. I knew you liked it rough, but this is-“
His voice breaks a little as you clench your muscles around his thick cock, earning a gentle stutter from his hips. His gaze is frozen steel glaring down at you, and as he settles back into his rhythm he trails the dull edge of the knife down your sternum. For all the bruising pressure he’s fucking you with he’s gentle with the knife, circling one of your already-stiff nipples with the point and making you keen.
“Bucky,” you plead, gripping the sheets beneath you in a desperate attempt to keep still. You’re ready to plead, but he cocks a brow and grins, not ready to listen just yet.
“Now you’re all soft for me, hmm? Not so bulletproof anymore.”
“Bucky, please,” you choke, more desperate this time. The pressure is building to unbearable levels inside you, but you’re not there yet. You need more if you’re going to get there. And he hasn’t decided if he’s going to give it to you.
“I bet I could make you cum just like this.” His voice is starting to tremble. He hasn’t been holding back at all- it’s no surprise that he’s almost there himself. He lays the flat of the knife between your breasts and drags it all the way down to your navel as he shifts his hips downward and fucks up into you at a brand new angle, fast and ruthless.
You get there faster than you have in a very, very long time. The shiver that he created with the flat of the cool knife echoes all the way to the tips of your toes and ends in shockwaves at the pit of your stomach. He’s amplified those shockwaves with the shift in angle, hitting you at just the right spot.
You careen over the edge with a tight scream of pleasure and he keeps the knife pressed flat against your spasming body. He thrusts into you a few more times, then buries himself to the balls and stays there, shaking and groaning your name as he pumps you full of his release.
When it’s over, he draws himself back and lets you sprawl across the bed, messy and spent. He tosses the knife deftly from flesh palm to metal, then tucks it smoothly into the holster of his half-shucked pants.
He steps the rest of the way out of them and falls into bed beside you. Suddenly he’s tender, and he reaches for your waist with one hand while the other, the flesh one, lifts to cup and stroke your cheek.
“Don’t tell me you’re not worth saving,” you mumble into the pillows. He lets out a snort and shakes his head, stretching out on his side and pulling you close.
“Whatever you say,” comes his quiet reply, and you want to smack him. Instead, you settle further into his arms and slide your own around his bare torso. You draw a deep, sleepy breath as he pulls the covers up around the both of you.
The wind rises, howling past the windows and rattling the door on its hinges. And as it settles, you tangle your legs with his and let your tongue curl around the words.
“You’re worth saving to me.”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes/reader#marvel#mcu#bucky barnes#winter soldier#kinktober#jbbKinktober2020#bucky barnes/you#bucky barnes x y/n
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My ranty Author Notes to address questions on my Three Sisters fic
So, I feel like I should put up some notes on a number of recurring questions I get in the comments, for those who don’t really read my responses (because I do provide some detailed explanations for why certain things are happening in my fic, but I get it if sloughing through comments for insight isn’t your thing; it isn’t mine either, hence the A/N.)
Why is Lily so stupid / obtuse / blind about Snape?
Let’s level-set a couple of things:
A) Lily is about as Gryffindor as they come, and some of the more common character flaws of people who belong to that house is that they rather tend to think a lot less of situations before diving in. That’s the case for Lily in this fic. Snape was her first magical friend that she’d ever met. She cherishes that friendship because she knows it’s returned even though she might not agree with a lot of Snape’s beliefs, not to mention Snape was the first person who told her that all the strange things that have been happening to her was the result of her being magical. For a child feeling the otherness of her abilities so keenly around her perfectly normal, muggle working class family, that is a huge thing. For the first time, Lily thought she’d met someone who understood her and the things she could do, and for that to have happened to her as a child, the person who validates that part of her being is going to play a very central role in her life until she reaches a breaking point. In the books, that breaking point was when Snape’s bigotry included her. For the longest time, he’d always excluded her from his hateful rhetoric, and there’s passages in the books that support that.
B) Lily is a kid. She’s 11, and she probably met Snape at a much younger age (I’m guessing around 8 or 9) Kids who value their friends can sometimes be stupidly loyal to them even when their friends are behaving badly. Why do you think peer pressure is such a huge thing among young people? It’s partly because they value the person who is their friend to the point of being foolhardy over said friend’s bad actions.
C) A lot of Snape’s bigotry goes over Lily’s head, because she’s never been taught to find differences between magical and non-magical people. Her parents obviously love her and Petunia the same and for her, that means they’re no different. She doesn’t understand the superiority Snape feels over Petunia, and because she doesn’t understand it, and also because she’s just a stupid kid who doesn’t really know better or even understands the slurs that come out of Snape’s mouth, she doesn’t think too much of it.
Notice that Lily actually does call him out when he’s being mean to Petunia in ways that she can understand, when Snape tells Petunia that he had no place being in Platform 9 3/4 for example. But then Snape follows it up with reasoning that seems to be perfectly sound - Platform 9 3/4 is a magical location; it might not be the best place for Petunia to be. As for the spoon encounter, Lily had some basic understanding of accidental magic, thanks to Holly, and mostly chocked up that unfortunate event to Snape’s accidental magic rearing up from Petunia’s mean-spirited taunting. Petunia isn’t innocent in that scene, if you go back to it and think critically on it, look at it in the eyes of a normal rational adult. She’s just presented as being sympathetic because the narration is from Holly’s POV, and Holly likes this Petunia and hates Snape absolutely.
Lastly, pretty much everything I have on Snape during the Summer with the Evanses part of this story have a basis in canon. He was hateful to Petunia, but Lily constantly made excuses for him, thinking that he’s just mean in general because of his difficult family life. The same goes when they get to Hogwarts. Snape spouts the same bigoted things the Slytherin Purebloods say, and Lily makes excuses for him. That’s canon. Lily made excuses for Snape’s behavior to her sister and her friends (especially Mary, who was canonically muggleborn) until she found she couldn’t anymore because his hatefulness suddenly spilled over to include her. Does that make Lily stupid? Probably, yes. Does it make her human? Fucking hell yes, and anyone who thinks that they won’t behave that way have clearly never figured out conflicted love-hate relationships with toxic people, so good for you, but these things happen to others, and it shouldn’t be surprising. There’s a basis for this in reality, and there’s a basis for Lily’s blind loyalty to Snape in canon.
And barring all of that if you don’t agree, it’s my fic, and I choose to write her this way. If that makes her a stupid character and you think I’m assassinating Lily’s characterization from canon, your interpretation is valid, but so is my right to write what I want as long as I’m not making a cent off of this. Thanks.
Why is Sirius spouting the bigotry he vehemently disavowed in OoTP? And why did he call Holly a mudblood?
I don’t know about you, but I think Sirius had to have been an extremely sheltered child, growing up in a magical house surrounded on all sides by a muggle neighborhood. I think he started questioning why he wasn’t allowed to play with other children whom he could probably see from his bedroom window, but he didn’t actually know how and why he needed to reason it out with his parents until he met people who taught him how to articulate the feelings he had over his parents’ bigotry against muggles and muggleborns.
As for why he called Holly a mudblood, again, has a lot to do with the normalization of hate in the household he grew up in. Walburga and Orion Black taught their children to hate anything and anyone that didn’t subscribe to the same Pureblood rhetoric as they did. And since Sirius thought Holly lived with the Evanses, who were muggle, and not with the Potters who were Purebloods, he didn’t see a distinction for her blood status from Mary or Lily, who were actually muggleborn. Hell, I don’t even think Sirius understood blood status all that well at all as an 11-year-old. He was just repeating shit he heard his parents say because he didn’t know any better.
I’m not going to tell you how to interpret your reading of my fic, but generally, I wouldn’t ascribe knowledge that I know of characters and events to the characters within the story, because they can’t be expected to know and understand what I know and understand, especially in a fic written in such a limited POV, and things like Holly’s blood status, would not be known to Sirius because Holly had never actually told James or him about her parents, other than that they were Potters. And while you can make a case for the fact that Holly told Sirius and Regulus in Chapter 7 that she’s not muggleborn, I still stand by the idea that the Black exclusionist ideas that Walburga and Orion taught their children would still have Sirius identifying her as one simply because of where he thinks she grew up in.
Why is Holly so stupidly letting so many details from her timeline out to her friends?
I think we should all cut Holly some slack for spilling so many details about her life to Lily and Petunia. She’s an orphan who’ finally met the girl who would be her mother. She can’t shut up about her life because OMG my MUM! I finally got to meet her!
On top of that, up until the point where Holly met Fleamont Potter, the last time Holly had been warned about meddling with time had been when she was in third year, and it was rushed and the warning hadn’t even been made to her; it had been McGonagall warning Hermione and Hermione repeating the same information to her. So the meddling about time? Holly didn’t exactly give a shit.
Lastly, we have so many references in canon of Harry Potter being an exceptionally impulsive little blockhead to the point where he constantly gets himself into trouble. Running after the Philosopher’s Stone in PS, continuing on to fight the basilisk and look for Ginny while Ron tries to get help in CoS, haring off to the Ministry in OoTP, Sectumsempra in HBP, uttering Voldemort’s name and getting them caught by Snatchers in DH… the list is actually pretty damn long. So why should it not be a character flaw for Holly in this fic to be stupidly impulsive in the information she gives out to a person she thinks is her mother, one she’s loved and idolized and put on a pedestal all her life? Why shouldn’t she spout similarly incriminating information to a boy she knows would be her godfather, whom she trusted and loved up until he got killed?
It’s a character flaw, yes, and I’m not here to write perfect characters, because perfect characters who only do the right and intelligent thing make for a dry, boring read. If you weren’t about annoying flaws like this, then you’re welcome to click off my fic and find some other story where Harry is the perfect godsent angel come to save us all. That’s not what this story is about.
Why aren’t you patching up any of these inconsistencies that multiple people have already pointed out?
Some of them, because that is how I want to write the characters in my story. Some of them, because there will be points in the future where these things are addressed and resolved. And yet still some of them because I don’t want to. Yes, even the stupid ones that really don’t make sense and should probably be changed. I don’t want to go back and change them. That’s how I am as a fic writer, and last I checked, this is still my fanfic.
Want to have a say in how I’m planning the characterization and plotting out? I’m still looking for a beta who I’d like to be able to help me with things like plot inconsistencies, annoying characterization (ok, shut up about Lily already. I didn’t make her this stupid; JKR did when she wrote Lily insisting on her friendship with Snape all the way up to fifth year!), and just generally talk about how and where I intend for the story to go.
If you’d like to beta for me, hit me up on my main Tumblr, @mumuinc or DM me on Discord; my profile is mumuinc#7662.
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Alone, Together - Chapter 1 [JJ x Reader]
JJ x READER
Description: JJ is not the only pogue on the cut who deals with abuse at home. Reader is an only child who lives with her mom and her abusive stepdad, has a strong relationship with JJ because they share the same home life. Reader experiences physical abuse for the first time, which changes her relationship with JJ irrevocably.
Chapter summary: Reader goes to a party after getting into a fight at home and tries to hide the evidence, but JJ sees and chaos ensues.
Disclaimers: Mentions of physical abuse, swearing, alcohol.
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There were barely any cars on the road at this time of night, thankfully, because you were having enough trouble seeing as it was. Your eye was almost entirely swollen shut at this point and the overcompensation of the other eye was making it blurry. You checked the time on your phone (your car clock had been wrong since 2003) and hit the gas a little harder – the party started at 10 and it was almost 11 now. You weren’t so concerned about being late – more so you needed to make an appearance (even if from a distance) before people started looking for you. The less concerned people were the less likely they were to start looking more closely at you. The less closely they looked the better. You didn’t want to talk tonight, especially not about your face – even if you had rehearsed your explanation (“a bad surfing accident”). The light from the giant bonfire started to peak through the trees on the beach side of the road, and you felt small butterflies in your stomach. You were not popular by any means, but the Pogues cared about you and they would be there, and you didn’t like lying to them. Especially not JJ. You pulled off the main road and slowed to a crawl along the dirt access road trying not to make too much dust or noise. After throwing it in park and grabbing your pack off the passenger seat, you slipped it on your shoulders and started wandering around the treeline towards the rocks lining the beach access. You had opted out of putting concealer on to try and diminish the bruise, it would be more suspicious if you did. Nobody covered surfing wounds – they were like a rite of passage.
As you meandered slowly down the walkway above the sand, you could hear the music from the sound system competing with the thundering crash of the waves. It wasn’t stormy tonight, but the current was strong. You pulled your baseball cap out of your pack and fastened it on your head, pulling the brim down, and rounded the corner around a cluster of beach grass and shrubs, almost immediately immersing yourself in the crowd. You kept your head tilted slightly, trying to create a shadow over your eyes so it wouldn’t be massively illuminated by the light from the bonfire. You waved and offered a small smile at the few people who said hi to you before resuming to their drinks and conversations until you found yourself at the keg. One of the Junior girls who usually spent summers working at Kie’s family restaurant was running the keg, probably under strict instruction from JJ and Pope to only poor full cups to the locals, the Tourons got half full max. The girl – Kaylie you think her name was – smiled warmly at you and poured you a cup – handing it to you quickly and sloshing some over the brim.
“Cheers Y/N” She winked and resumed her honorably duty. Alright, one person down who didn’t say anything about the marks and bruising on your face. You were off to a good start. Thank god it was dark.
You kept walking through the crowd, muttering ‘hey’ and ‘how’s it going’ every few groups until you had almost reached the other end of the beach. You just wanted to sit and drink your beer, listen to the sounds of the music and the water, relax. You didn’t want to think or talk about what had happened before you got here, or why you had a swollen eye, a bruised cheek, and a split lip. You just had to stay long enough for people to know you were there and not question anything, then you could bounce and go find a spot to park and sleep for the night. Just as you were nearing the edge of the crowd you heard your name shouted from behind you. Shit. John B.
You turned quickly and smiled brightly, then waved and pointed at your beer, motioning as if you were empty and going for a refill. Then you shouted “see you in a few” and turned and kept walking, quicker. Good enough, that was passable. You didn’t hear him say anything else so you felt like you were in the clear. You found a quiet(er) spot at the end of the beach where the next line of rocks divided the sand down to the water and dropped your backpack to the ground, then lowering yourself down and crossing your legs. This was probably the first time you had sat down all day – for sure the first time you had relaxed all day. And what a fucking day it was. Your brain wandered back to your house where you had run out the front door, blood running down your cheek and chin, where you tripped at the bottom of the porch stairs and scraped your arm raw on the gravel. He had followed you out and ran after you until you got to your car and shook the door open before sliding in and slamming the door closed, locking it. He had banged on the driver’s side window and kept shouting how useless and disgusting you were to him until you managed to put it in reverse and get away from him. You saw him shouting and shaking his fist at you in your rear-view mirror. Shaking your head, you pulled yourself out of the memory, staring blankly out at the water again. A tear fell down your cheek, stinging the open wound. You winced and picked up your beer, chugging it until it was empty.
“Woah there, cowgirl” JJ laughed from behind you. Fuck. “Long day in paradise?”
He always referred to your family life, your house, as paradise. A bit of an inside joke between kids from broken homes. He had it worse by far, well, used to have it worse by far – until tonight. He popped a squat beside you and you felt his arm brush against yours.
“John B said he saw you wander over here by yourself, thought you might be peeing but – glad to see you’re not” He joked.
You didn’t look over at him, just pushed a small laugh out and said hey. You kept looking out at the ocean but tugged the brim of your hat down a bit. Thankfully he had sat on the good side.
“So…what’re you doing over here” He said less jokingly, clearly noting the awkward silence.
“Nothing” You retorted quickly “Just taking 5 to sit”
“Right, right” You could see him nodding in your peripherals. “You uh…you good?”
“What? Yeah of course. Why?” God chill out, moron. You felt yourself shift position to look farther down the beach, turning your head away from him slightly.
“Y/N…hey” He said in a more alert tone, then quickly leaning towards you had pushed the brim of your hat up your forehead. “Jesus Christ” He shouted, breathing out in exasperation. “What the fuck?”
You had flinched and instinctively looked over at him when he had lifted his hand to push the brim up, exposing your face to the glow from the distant bonfire. His expression was equal parts horror, shock, and concern. He leaned towards you and tried to get a better look but you pulled the brim back down and leaned away from him.
“Its fine JJ, just caught a bad wave and hit some coral.” Ugh. That was barely believable even to you. You should never have tried lying to him of all people.
“You mean to tell me that was a surfing accident?” He scoffed and stood up, standing in front of you looking down. “I was at the beach all day, Y/N. You weren’t there. What happened?”
You shook your head and placed your hand on top of your hat, wiggling it around then positioning the brim again. You were in the lie deep now, no turning back. “I told you, bad wave.”
He knelt down in front of you now, reaching out to take the hat off, but you swatted his hand away. He reached again and grabbed your hand when you tried to swat him, gently restraining it and pulling your hat off with the other hand. He could see you in full view now, and was silent. His eyes were glossy and he was grinding his teeth, breathing slowly but heavily through his nose. Your eyes were now full of tears and starting to spill over, but you kept eye contact with him. Through your good eye you could see it passing over his face – anger, confusion, distress. Disgust.
You felt shame, and you had nowhere to hide. The sea air was cool and felt like ice against your hot skin. JJ didn’t say anything, but he slowly leaned forward and put a hand on the good side of your face, brushing the tears off with his thumb.
“Long day in paradise” You managed to say quietly, pursing your lips together and nodding, numbly. After a breath he stood you both up slowly, holding you under your elbows, and pulled you into a hug so crushing that you felt the air entirely squeeze out of your lungs. JJ was a full foot taller than you, and was the kind of core strong that didn’t come from a gym. You felt a small part of yourself crack open when he held you, something you hadn’t expected or prepared for, and you began to sob into his shoulder. Neither of you spoke, you just stood there embracing each other until it stopped hurting so bad. An unspoken understanding passed between the two of you that JJ wasn’t alone in experiencing physical abuse at home anymore.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” He spoke in a muffled voice into your hair. You felt that he knew this was your stepdads fault. Neither of you needed to say it. “I’m here” He murmured. “You’re safe.”
When you finally relaxed enough that you were able to pull away, he loosened his grip slightly, but not entirely. His hands came up from around your back to cradle either side of your head and look closer at your face. He winced when he looked at the cut on your cheek and the presumably dark blue and purple that was forming around your swollen eye now. His expression was changing now, from anger and disgust and concern to something…darker. His eyes were dark. He chewed on his lip and took a step back, dropping his hands from your face and running them through his hair. Then, in an unexpected moment of rage, he kicked the red solo cup and let out an angry yell into the dead air.
“God DAMNIT” He shouted, startling you. “Sorry” He said when he saw your expression.
“You okay?” You said quietly, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.
“No, Y/N. I’m not okay. That’s fucked” He emphasized the word by holding his hand out and motioning at your face. He kicked a piece of driftwood and ran his hands over his face again.
You took a deep breath and sat down beside your backpack again, not sure what else to do. You chewed your lip and stared out at the water, your head starting to throb.
“What are you gonna do” He finally asked, standing a few feet from you with his hands on his hips. You were stricken by him in this light, as you had been only a few times before. All his exposed skin had a sheen to it, sweat that made his golden tan look shiny. His sandy blonde hair was poking out around his backwards hat, and his shirt kind of hung around him loosely, but stuck to his abs and shoulder muscles.
“Nothing” You croaked out, almost breathlessly.
“What? No. I mean…you can’t go back there, Y/N. He’s a fucking psycho. If I didn’t think he wouldn’t take his shotgun out on me I would go there right now and kill him myself.”
You rolled your eyes at the melodramatic explanation, but he wasn’t actually wrong. You shook you head. “I don’t know”
“You … you know you can’t go back there, right?”
“Well, he’s my stepdad JJ. I can’t exactly never go home again.” His eyes narrowed and he stared at you, before taking a step closer and making a single fist out of both hands.
“That…is exactly what you don’t do. You absolutely do not go back there, Y/N. Seriously?”
“Come on now,” You were starting to get upset. You didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Not with JJ. “You’re not seriously lecturing me about staying in an abusive home are you?”
He tilted his head to the side with an expression that said careful. He licked his lips, smiled sarcastically, and turned around, staring at the water. You could see his back muscles contracting through his shirt, his breathing labored. You sighed knowingly, kicking yourself internally. Too low.
“Sorry – JJ. Sorry. I shouldn't have...said that” He didn’t turn around. You stood up, standing behind him, and reached a hand out. He flinched when you touched his back. You took your hand away and took a step back. You hadn’t meant for the comment to hurt him that bad.
“I’ll go” You said quietly, leaning down to grab your backpack from the sand.
When you stood up straight he was staring at you, his face blank and his arms folded over his chest.
“That is exactly the reason you can’t go back there, Y/N. I know what it’s like. I know how unsafe you are.”
“I’ll figure it out” You say shrugging your shoulders, starting to feel the burn in your chest and tightness in your throat again. The thought of JJ going through what you just experienced on an almost weekly basis was making your stomach turn. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you, and was grinding his teeth again, the sharp line of his jaw moving shadows across his neck. “I shouldn’t have come tonight anyways” you mutter.
You started walking towards the crowd again, fastening your hat on your head and pulling the brim down. You only made it a few steps when you heard JJ say something behind you and then felt his hand wrap around your arm, pulling you to a stop. He walked around in front of you and lowered his head until you were eye level with each other, seeing that you refused to look up at him.
“Where are you going” He asked quietly, his eyes darting back and forth with yours.
“I don’t know, I-” You looked at your feet then back to him, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”
“Please stay.” He said, eyes holding yours again. “Please don’t go back there.” His voice was quieter now, almost pleading. You could feel his hand gripping your arm tighter the longer the silence lasted.
“Ouch, JJ” You said looking down at your arm. “Oh shit” He let go of your arm, not realizing he had been hurting you, and watched as you pulled your sweater sleeve up, exposing the road rash that had hardly had a chance to stop bleeding when you got here and was now freshly bleeding again. “Shit”
“Oh fuck, Y/N, I didn’t mean-“
“Its fine, I just fell when I was-” You closed your mouth as the memory surfaced again and you started to unzip your hoodie to take it off.
“Here” JJ pulled his t-shirt over his head and pressed it onto the open wound, which was the length of your forearm. “We need to clean this” He said distractedly, trying to move your arm around to get a better look at it. You briefly stared at his chest and abs, the shadows from the bonfire making them look more defined than usual. Good lord. You were lightheaded but not sure if it was from the blood loss or the proximity of a shirtless JJ.
“I have … I don’t know. I have whisky in my car” You say before wincing loudly as JJ fastened a knot in the shirt fabric to secure it to your forearm.
JJ looked around at the crowd standing between you and the vehicles before nodding to the hillside behind you both.
“Let’s go this way.” You followed him up the small embankment and into the treeline, walking carefully around the rocks and tree roots that littered the ground. JJ had looked over his shoulder and saw that you were struggling, so he waited for a moment and put his arm around your shoulder when you caught up. You smiled up at him and then looked back to the ground to ensure you didn’t misstep.
“Don’t worry, kid” He said quietly, looking over your head at the party down the bank below. “We’re in this together”
When you had reached the clearing where the cars were parked, you took a second to kick a rock out of your sandal before walking towards your own car, and froze. JJ stopped and looked at you, confused, before following your gaze. There, parked next to your car, was your stepdad.
You felt your chest tighten and your throat constrict and your vision tunnel. This wasn’t seriously happening right now. Why was he even here? How did he even drive here? He was so inebriated when you had left three hours ago he should have been passed out by now.
“JJ-” You had started but your voice was so high pitched it had cut out. JJ looked down at you and had shook his head in confusion before starting to put his arm out to hold onto you. You had already started moving towards the car, your legs going without your brain knowing why yet. You had an unprecedented urge to defend yourself, to protect JJ from being a part of this shit show, to stop whatever was about to happen before it started.
“Y/N, wait!” JJ had shouted from behind you, but you didn’t. You picked up your speed and walked with intention to the parked car. Just as you were in eye shot of the mirrors, the passenger’s side door opened and your mom climbed out, moving towards you. You stopped.
“Mom?” You looked at her, her work uniform still on, her hair messy as if she had been sleeping on it, and her face puffy from crying. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”
When she saw your face she began to cry, her hands going out towards you. She had muttered something about ‘my baby, my poor baby’ before pulling you into a hug.
“Mom what’s going on” You repeated, numb to her affection.
“Oh JJ, oh my babies” Your mom continued to cry, her hands fussing all over you, looking from you to JJ and back. “He just wants to apologize, baby. He just wants to apologize.”
As she had been fussing over you and smoothing down your hair and rubbing your shoulders, he had gotten out of the driver’s side and turned to face them.
“Why did you come here?” You spoke quietly, back away from the car, away from him. You backed up until you backed into JJs chest. He stood firm and put his hand on your shoulder.
“Hey, kid” He said quietly, looking down at the road and not making eye contact with neither you nor JJ. JJs hand had tightened on your shoulder, reminding you was there. “I just uh…you should come home.”
You had already started shaking your head before he had finished talking.
“I think you should go.” JJ had said loud and clear, directly at your stepdad. “Now.”
“Back off, kid” Your stepdad had retorted, staring right back at JJ. He seemed quite sober now, which meant he was still drunk but on the functioning alcoholic scale he was at the sober end. “None of your business” He had mumbled, when JJ took his hand off your shoulder and began walking towards the car.
You wanted to tell him to stop, to wait, to stay away from your stepdad, but you felt your lips start to tingle and your limbs feel distant. This was not happening. This was terrifying. You started to hear a ringing in your ears that was drowning out the now very loud arguing between JJ and your stepdad. You saw JJ shove your stepdad back towards their car, then you looked over at your mom in what felt like slow motion as you felt your knees hit the ground, sharp gravel and dirt cutting into your skin. You couldn’t breathe but somehow felt like you were hyperventilating at the same time. You were choking. You heard your mom let out a small scream of your name and then everything went black.
#jj x reader#obx fanfiction#outer banks#outer banks fanfiction#jj maybank#jj#this is trash#take my computer away#requests open#part two coming soon#outer banks netflix#obx imagine#jj maybank x reader#nakedmossywrites
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Ｔｈｅ Ｓｐｏｒｅｓ
Ｋｉｒｉｓｈｉｍａ ｘ Ｒｅａｄｅｒ
1: ᴜɴꜰᴀɪʀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ
A Zombie Apocalypse AU. Just a little idea I had. I’ll be writing a total of 3 parts (subject to change,) but anyways here’s the first :) I hope you enjoy it. Some warnings:
Brief mention of kidnapping and rape, death, and some angst. Read at your own discretion. 
It’s amazing to see how much the world had changed in only 3 years. With this plague, pandemic, apocalypse, or even cleansing, as some might refer to it, the world had truly shown it’s true colors.
Walkers. Zombies. Contaminated. They were now a part of everyday life, and those at the 1% lived their lives the same as before any of this happened. All the rest of the population were not so lucky.
While the rich and wealthy lived in what were called White Zones, the rest of the population wandered around various Safe Districts. However, how safe they really were was up for debate.
You, your brother, and your mother wandered from one Safe District to another, mainly because really living in one was far too expensive, and paper currency didn’t have much value unless you went to the White Zones, and even then, if you weren’t ‘one of them’, they didn’t let you in. This world was unfair, but how unfair you still had yet to see. And see, you would.
One chilly February evening, the time had come. Your mother had been having issues with her back for some time now, she simply wasn’t as young as she used to be. This wasn’t her fault, of course, but she was unfortunately becoming a burden. So, as customary for elderly or sick people, their family members had to put them down.
It was the harsh reality of this world. If you couldn’t keep up, the Walkers would get to you. You couldn’t bare to see that happen.
The old Porsche 928 your family had was parked at an empty flower field. Your brother, only 12 years old, held your mother and wept. Your mother could only smile and hug him tight.
You couldn’t bare to watch. You ripped them apart and took your mother by the hand and led her to the field.
“Mateo, get in the car. Now,” you ordered, not looking him in the eye.
He shrieked and cried, shaking his head, “No! I won’t! Let me hold her, please!”
“If you don’t get in the fucking car, I’ll knock your ass out and force you in. Your choice.”
He gave you a glare filled with hatred and tears, before scampering into the car.
Gently, you led your mother to the middle of the field. She looked so somber, and weak. She gave you a small smile, and tears flowed down her face.
“It’s selfish of me to make you do this. I’m sorry,” she murmured, unable to meet your eyes.
Your lip trembled, but you forced yourself to steel. You couldn’t cry. Not yet. Not in front of her.
“Kneel, mom. Pray if you want. I’ll make it quick and p-,” your voice wavered, and to avoid crying you bit your lips and shut your mouth.
Your mother kneeled and held a rosary wrapped in her hands before nodding.
You held up your shotgun
and pulled the trigger.
The echoing blast could be heard for miles. For some reason, the sound of your mother’s body falling limp was louder than the gun blast, though.
This world was unfair. How unfair it was, you still had yet to see.
A few days had passed, and your brother still wasn’t speaking to you. You had both returned alone to the South Safe District, and the entire ride there was agonizingly quiet. You wished he would cry, yell, hit you, do something,but he never uttered a single word. Just silent tears. That in itself was much louder than the silence. You made your way back to the hotel and made sure your brother was sound asleep before crying and sobbing, you’d cried harder then than you had in your entire life. You were exhausted. Then, you were interrupted. A scream outside your cracked window made you turn quickly. A little too quickly; you popped your neck.
Outside, a young girl was being sprayed with Walker Spores by a large hooded man, and once she had collapsed, he took her away. You sighed and turned away. This world was unfair, but how unfair you still had yet to see.
While staying in various districts, you usually stayed in shabby hotels or abandoned houses, there wasn’t really much else. Especially since Kidnappers were often around these parts. Kidnappers took the Contaminated and used their Spores to contaminate others, to leave them impressionable. In the early stages of infection, the body is left dazed and not really…there. Perfect opportunity to take young girls and boys and….well. You get the gist. Sleeping in a shelter of some sort is way better than sleeping outside.
In the morning, you proposed a visit to the West District. It was your brother’s birthday in a few days, and you figured you’d take what little money and trading items you had to buy him a candy or something. These last few days had obviously been hard on the both of you. He quietly nodded and took your hand as you led the way to the car.
By 11 AM on February 17, you and your brother had been on the road for about 2 hours. Your shotguns were loaded and in each of your laps. Your mother’s gun was in the trunk, untouched. You didn’t want to look at it, so you put it in the back. Out of sight, out of mind. Music was blaring on the stereo, drowning out your miserable thoughts. Nothing else wandered through your mind scape until Mateo pointed at something in the road and yelled “Look! (Y/N), look!”
You slowed down and saw a person…what seemed to be unconscious on the side of the road. The first thing you noticed was their outrageously loud red hair. You slowed to a stop a few feet from the body, turned down the music, and grabbed your gun, a cloth gag, hand cuffs, and your filtering mask.
“Wait here. I don’t know if it’s a fresh Walker or something. Keep your gun aimed at it,” you said as you fastened your mask in place.
You took a quick glance around the surrounding area. No Walkers in sight.
Getting out and keeping the gun trained on the body, you noticed it was a man. A young man, probably around your age, 17 or 18 by the looks of him. He was bleeding from his temple and nose. He had no guns or anything on him. You nudged him with the tip of your shotgun, but he didn’t move. You quieted down and could hear that he was breathing; his chest was moving up and down as well.
So…he was alive. No rashes or boils to indicate infection, he must be fine. Regardless, you clicked the cuffs in place and tied the gag around his mouth. Walkers were known to claw and bite to infect others, and frankly you didn’t wanna take a chance with a stranger.
“Mateo, help me carry him, he’s heavy,” you called to your brother as he scrambled out of the car to help.
Securing him in the backseat, you used an old shirt to clean off the blood, but there wasn’t much else you could do besides that.
An hour or so later, about halfway to the West District, you heard stirring behind you. Taking a quick glance back, it looked like he was going to wake up soon.
“Mateo, keep that gun aimed at him. He could possibly be contaminated, or something.”
Your brother nodded and kept his gun aimed at the man.
A little later, and he was letting out muffled grunts. Taking a few minutes to look around at your surroundings, and minding the other cars passing you, you pulled over and turned around to look at him.
His eyes were a deep crimson, his equally red hair was disheveled and everywhere, and his clothes were bloodstained and dirty. He had a small scar above his eye, and he looked frightened and confused.
“Were you contaminated?” You asked, taking out your own gun and pointing it at him.
“Mm! Mm!” He frantically shook his head, eyes going even wider.
“How do I know you’re not lying?” I questioned further.
He turned his head to the side, exposing a serial number. Of course, how could you had forgotten? Everyone who wasn’t contaminated had one. If you got infected, the ink used to tattoo everyone burned and disappeared.
You sighed and put your gun down, as did your brother, you reached over and took off his gag and cuffs.
“T-thanks. A bit overkill, don’t you think?” He said sheepishly, rubbing his raw wrists.
You turned the car back on and got back on the road before answering, “Sorry. Can’t be too careful. Mind telling us what happened? Oh, I’m (Y/N), by the way. This is my little brother, Mateo.”
Mateo waved.
“Oh, well, my name’s Eijiro, but you can call me Kirishima. And…well, I was robbed, simply put.” He said quietly, seemingly embarrassed.
You couldn’t help but laugh at his misfortune. His face burned pink and he scowled. Mateo looked horrified and punched your arm.
“Don’t laugh! That really sucks man, I’m sorry,” Mateo mumbled frowning at me.
“Sorry, sorry, I don’t know what made me do it. That really sucks dude. What’d they steal?”
“Everything. I’m lucky I still have the clothes I’m wearing. My gun, my money, my….” He sighed and shut his eyes, like he knew what was coming, “…my car….”
You choked.
“PFT- BRO, YOUR CAR?” You howled with laughter. Truly, someone else’s misfortune was just what you needed right now.
He sighed and nodded.
You wheezed, “Dude, how does that even happen?? I gotta know.”
“You’re such an ass…” Mateo muttered.
“Language, bitch.”
Kirishima avoided your gaze in the rear view mirror, “W-well I saw someone on the road, kinda like me. And I stopped by to help, except, well, I wasn’t as cautious. And now I’m here.”
“Nice job, it’s a wonder you’re still clean,” you snickered.
“Well hey look, we’re on our way to the West District and from there we might visit a friend of mine down south, and apparently you could use a ride,” you smiled at him through your mirror. He smiled back, “That would be great, actually. I could uh….use a ride. Do you happen to have an extra weapon or something? Sorry to ask, it’s kinda unmanly of me, but…” he trialed off.
“Yeah bro, we got one in the trunk,” Mateo said with a smile. This new stranger seemed to have lifted his spirits some.
Maybe this would bring you some good karma. Maybe…the world wasn’t all that unfair. You would have yet to see though.
Ｅｎｄ ｏｆ Ｐａｒｔ １
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Greenhorn: young!Ezra x F!reader
A/N: This was inspired by @opheliaelysia and our conversation about how Ez wouldn't be able to resist squishing an aurelac pod, but it ended up turning into something more. ALSO, though reader and OCs refer to Ezra as "the kid" I am picturing an early 20s Ezra. None of these people are minors.
Warnings: Language. Canon typical violence. Death. Slight gore. Angst. Hurt/comfort. A lil bit of fluff. Implied may-december romance. No beta.
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This is a bad idea, you think, as your drop-ship hits atmo, small squarish windows limned in fire, deep vibration that thrums up through your spine, the ship trying not to tear itself apart, and the kid is still talking. No one can hear him above the vibrations and the scream of superheated molecules shredding themselves apart against the heat shield. Del sings out
"We're at max pressure--"
"Copy--"
"There was this one time--"
"No one gives a fuck, Greenhorn---"
"All of you shut the fuck up--"
"We're through," says Del, "Drogue deploy in 15--'
'There was a whole fuckin nest of em--"
"Oi! Shut it!"
"3-2-1, deploying drogues." Del punches the button at his right hand and the drogue 'chutes fire out and the drop-ship does a sick lurch, its pace slowing from suicidal to absurdly dangerous. You've got the ability to soft-land, but so long as Del lines it up right you won't have to, the bog should cradle you. Fuel saved on the way down makes the lift safer.
"Deploying mains," you say, and flip the toggle, a loud thump and another jolt as the main chutes deploy, sprouting out from the top of your lander, like the days of Apollo on Old Terra. And still the fucking kid is yapping. In writing the kid seemed half-decent, a big, raw boned boy with a rakish, dimpled smile. Had his own suit and kit and filters. Was polite enough when you asked questions of him, all yes Ma'am and no Ma'am, and three bags full Ma'am. Never would have considered his green ass if Marko hadn't bailed, or, more precisely, if Marko hadn't gotten himself in trouble with the locals and run with his tail between his legs, well, so now you had the kid, who could not for the life of him seem to shut up for two seconds. At first you thought it was just nerves, but he's been yammering away since you requested release. An uninterrupted, stream of consciousness narration. You are wondering if he is, indeed, brain damaged somehow.
"The thing about channel rats--"
"For the love of Kevva no one gives a sweet jewel encrusted crap--"
"Ezra! For the love of all that's holy, if you do not shut up I will shoot you in the face," you snap. "Clear?" He gives you a little wounded look.
"Clear," says Ezra. And, for a brief, miraculous moment, there is silence. The drop ship lands, lurches in the boggy ground and is still.
"How we lookin, Del?"
"Nav dropped us right on the button," says Del, "We look great." The tight quarters fill with the sound of bodies unstrapping from the crash-couches.
"Alright people. Let's suit up. Sooner we get our pull, sooner we get back up to connection orbit."
You walk through the Green in loose formation. Del put you down not 3 clicks from the dig site, but the Green is tricksy and, lately, full of dangerous people. Del and Big Pete have rails. You and the kid have your throwers strapped to your hips. Del takes point, you and Big Pete hang back a hair. The kid is supposed to be bringing up the rear, but a look over your shoulder shows him entirely transfixed. This is probably his first time off whatever backwater sprung him, all shiny and new and dropped into the Bakhroma Green, his big brown eyes all agog, trying to look everywhere at once. And you feel this keenly, a spike in your chest that recalls your first time dirtside, the great, broad blue arc of the sky was enough to fuck you up, after only knowing smoothly curving station walls and blunted angles. You recall your wonder, setting foot on this lush and deadly ground, never had you seen so much life, never seen life that wasn't controlled and carefully cultivated. The Green is a truly wild place that obeys no rules but its own.
"Is it all like this?" he asks, "So verdantly forested?"
"Yep," says Del, "Once in a while you get a soft-spot like we landed in, but most of it's trees and roots." You slog along. The site is close, but it's already warm. And by the time you get there, the kid is mostly silent and that is truly a blessing, likely the effect of slowly poaching in his suit, not accustomed to the heat like you and the rest of the crew.
"Should be getting close," says Del, brow furrowed, peering at a battered topographical map, a red x inside a red circle. You stop a beat and peer through the patterns of shadow and trees, the haze of winkling purple dust.
"There," you say, hand reaching out to point without even thinking about it, a patch of dark, slightly sunken earth, devoid of brush. Plants don't like to grow over aurelac nests. You don't know why and it doesn't matter. "Right. We set up here. Trade me the rails, Del, you get to play teacher. Listen up, Ezra, Del is one of the best harvester's you'll meet. You listen to him, clear? You do what he says and nothing else."
"Clear," says Ezra, grinning all big through his fishbowl helm.
"Um...boss?" Says Big Pete, "Why we bothering with this boy?"
"What if Marko can't get himself out of the shit this time, huh? We'll need another set of hands...we'll--"
"PUT THAT DOWN!" Del's voice squeals loud and offended over the comms, "The fuck are you doin?" And before you can even think, you and Big Pete are running for the dig and would you look at that, there's the kid, gloves pulled out of their ring-seals and piled on the mossy ground beside him. He's got an aurelac node husk cupped in his bare hands, not even safely cut yet, it's umbilicus disappearing into the black dirt.
"EZRA! WERE YOU BORN THIS STUPID OR DID IT TAKE YEARS OF RIGOROUS PRACTICE?" And, look at him, the kid smirks at you through his fishbowl helmet.
"Sorry, Ma'am, " he says, "It seemed uncannily squishy. I just had to find out for myself--" You close the distance between you and grab his wrist, hard enough so that his idiot smile fades and you actually see some fear prick in those big brown eyes. Fear is good in the Green. Fear is your friend. Unlikely this kid has ever had cause to be afraid, but, by Kevva, you're going to give him some cause. You pull your knife from your belt and press the business end into Ezra's palm, right between the heart and head lines, just enough to dimple but not enough to break skin. He tries to jerk away, but you know how you hold him, grind those wrist bones together like marbles in a sock.
"Ezra," your voice is soft, yelling does no good, this kid's probably been yelled at for most of his formative years, and it's obviously made no impression. "You see all this purple shit floating through the air? Pretty, isn't? Looks like fairy dust--"
"Ma'am--" he tries to pull free.
"Shut it, fool," you push the knife tip just a hair harder, feel him flinch, flinching is good, might save his idiot hide someday. "I break your skin, I give your the faintest kitten scratch of a wound and the spores will get in there and fest black. These spores will eat you from the bones out. You rot from the inside, clear?"
"Clear." You let go and he scrabbles his gloves back on.
"Fuckin hell," says Del. Big Pete just shakes his head.
Thank Kevva for small favors, the kid is a quick study. Those big hands are surprisingly clever, and even Del is impressed by his ability. The idea licks around your mind that maybe it's time to cut Marko loose for good, Ezra has plenty of raw talent even if he can't shut up. Your time in the Green is almost done, a half cycle to button up the dig, break camp and lift. You've given Del back the rail-gun, traded for harvesting. The thrill of splitting open those strange membranes has never gown old for you, the finicky work of dissecting the carom blisters away from the inner sac, the fizz of the fazer and then your prize revealed, in this moment your mind is fully on the pull, you don't notice anything off until you feel something thump into the back of your helmet, and hear the whine of a primed thrower. A voice crackles ever the common channel.
"Drop your weapons boys, or this stupid cow gets one right through the brain pan." Big Pete already has his hands in the air, Petey always was a softy, Del still has his rails, looking at your face for a sign and you shake your head. Take the shot, you think, you try to think it AT him, but you see the rail-gun slide out of his hands. God Damnit. You would have expected them to act selfishly. You always expected you'd die out here and the business end of some thrower. And, of course, the kid is nowhere to be seen. Probably wandered behind a tree to take a leak or already caught a blast to the skull.
"Right then," Your assailant says, he's got your air-hose doubled over in his free hand, "You open up that case so I can--" The thrower discharges and you pitch forward, there is no pain, just pressure, and suddenly you can breathe easier. You heave against the dead weight on your back, scrabble back down into the slick of dead leaves and needles and then the pressure is gone and you sit up. The dying man crawfishes over the loam, peering out of his helm with wide eyes and blood spattered lips, eyes that plead until they are obliterated. Ezra stands with his thrower smoking, his face pulled up into a rictus of fear and rage.
"Del. Petey. Circle back. Comm channel zero. Anything flinches you take it out. Clear?"
Big Pete :"Clear"
Del: "Clear"
"Ezra. Get his filter,"
"huh?"
"Did I stutter? You get his filter and any other kit that's any good." You stand, but your legs want to betray you. You take a couple shambling steps and plant yourself on a fallen tree, watching the kid strip the corpse, peels the filters and o rings and hose like he's done it a million times. Your breath comes hard and ragged. Nausea grips you. All your time in the Green and you never get over that feeling of almost dying, the taste of it on your tongue like hot smoke, and here's the kid gripping your shoulder, helping you up.
"We going back to camp?"
"Yeah," you say, "Thrower out. There might be more of them."
"I didn't want to--" You know where this is going. You remember hearing the same arguments spill out of yourself the first time you had to use a thrower, "I mean, he woulda--" You stop so you can look at him through the foggy business of his helmet.
"You did right." You say, "he meant to take our whole pull." Ezra nods, but his eyes are still white-rimmed and shocked. You reach for him and give his arm a little shake.
"Let's go. Eyes peeled, clear?"
"Clear."
You keep expecting that shaky, nauseated feeling to dissipate on the walk back to camp but it does not. The suit seems suffocating, and you practically bolt for the tent, in and fumbling with your suit before Ezra can even turn on the scrubbers. You reach to doff your helmet, something you've done daily for years, but your hands shake and you fumble the catches, two attempts and you feel like you're drowning in your own exhalations, you need this fishbowl off your head right now, but your hands won't stop shaking.
"Here," Ezra pushes your hands away and does the catches himself, lifting the helmet away from your face. His own fishbowl's gone, his sweaty hair sticking up in crazy quills, that little blond streak screaming up from his scalp like an exclamation point, and before you can properly process what's happening, Ezra pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders. Your hands, which, by all means, should be shoving him the fuck off of you, turn traitor and creep around his middle. You're still shaking, but you feel him shaking too, the two of you vibrating with spent adrenaline like plucked guitar strings. His warm palm grips the back of your neck and nestles your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. You let out a watery breath.
"Fuck. I'm getting to old for this shit." Ezra makes a dismissive sound. His fingers dig at your nape, pressing into the tight, cabled muscles there. You let yourself lean against him, lean into his warmth. You can't remember a time you've been this close to someone without expecting a backstab. Ezra murmurs. It's okay, we're safe, I've got you, we're safe, reassuring himself as much as you.
"Ezra?"
"Yes, Ma'am?"
"Don't make this your life," You lift your head and look up at him, his brows are furrowed.
"I'm afraid I don't understand." You poke his belly.
"Get yourself maybe three solid pulls and then you get the fuck out of here," you say, peering into those big, dark eyes, "Get out and don't come back."
"Ma'am?"
"The Green changes people," you say, "And generally not for the better." He gives you a hard squeeze that you return and then he releases you, but only partially, one arm still slung over your shoulder.
"You know," he says, "I have among my personal effects a bottle of Kanvian fire-water. Once we lift we could find a quiet place on yon freighter and share it."
"Kanvian, eh?" You turn up your arm to look at your chronometer. "We boost in, what, a third of a cycle? Manage not to do anything catastrophically stupid between now and then and I'll consider it." His lips pull into a smirk, his dark eyes glittering, crinkling at the corners. He raises his hand to his head in a mock salute.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Del and Big Pete should be done with their sweep soon. Start system checks on the ship, then help break camp."
"Yes, Ma'am." He scoops up his discarded helmet under one arm and heads for the entrance.
"Oh, and, Ezra?"
"Yeah?"
"You say anything about..." You gesture vaguely, "Whatever this was that just happened--"
"Not to worry, fair maiden," he says, grinning, "No word of our tryst shall pass my lips, because I know that the second I let things slip you will undoubtedly shoot me in the face."
"The fuck outta here, smooth talker," you laugh. Ezra jams the fishbowl back on his head and steps out into the sticky heat of The Green, zipping the tent behind him.
He's a fool, you think as you set about grading and stowing the day's pull, he's a fool and likely to get himself killed. You just hope you're not the one who has to see it.
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the ex-boyfriend // taehyung // oneshot
↪ PAIRING: Reader/Kim Taehyung
↪ SUMMARY: A snowstorm brings you and your ex Taehyung closer than you ever expected to be again.
↪ WORD COUNT: 2.8k
↪ WARNINGS: pwp | choking | dom!taehyung
"Thanks for doing this." You say, the awkwardness of the situation brining an uncomfortable heat to your cheeks. Taehyung nods in acknowledgement from behind the box of your things he's cradling. It was only a matter of time before the ritual of handing back each other's things took place. However knowing it would occur doesn't make it any easier.
"Where do you want it?" Taehyung asks as he crosses the threshold of your apartment. You're quick to shut the door behind him so no more snow makes it's way inside. He's already tracked in an inordinate amount from his shoes and jacket alone.
"Here is fine." You gesture to a space you've made by the stairs. He squats down and places the box on the floor. "Thanks, Tae."
"I told you, stop thanking me." He rolls his eyes but his tone is light. "Had to be done eventually, huh?"
"It's so...final." You say before you can stop yourself. It's been several months since you and Taehyung have been apart but this feels like the final nail in the coffin. Now there is no excuse to see each other, ever again. He was a major part of your life for a long time and you still haven't adjusted to being separate.
"Well, yeah." He scratches the back of his neck and stares at the ground. "That's what break ups are."
It was your idea to call things off, something he doesn't throw in your face but he doesn't let you forget either. He was moving away for college and the long distance thing always felt like a good theory but nothing more. Real life was more complicated and a couple of thousand miles between a couple could only hinder rather than help.
"Are you home for long?"
"Just the holidays." He sighs.
"How is college?"
"Hard."
You share a small smile. Taehyung was always so straight to the point. It was something you always liked about him. There was never any bullshit. "You're smart, you can take it." You tell him.
"I don't know, you should see my coursework." He laughs. "Get a degree but age ten years in the process. Maybe it's not worth it."
"It's worth it. How hard have you worked to get to this point?" You remind him.
"True. I just need perspective sometimes." He shifts in the hallway and the awkwardness rears it's ugly head once again. "So....I'm gonna head out."
You peer out the window at the worsening storm, chewing your lip anxiously. You can barely make out Taehyung's parked car in the blizzard that's formed. "Are you sure you want to drive in that?"
"Don't exactly have much of a choice." He shrugs. "I'm a good driver. I'll be fine."
"Tae," You reprimand. "Don't be reckless. You can hang out here for a while, at least until the blizzard stops."
"I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."
"You don't."
"It's weird."
"Yeah it is. But I'd rather a couple of hours of weird tension than you die in a snowstorm." You joke and he laughs. "Come on," You urge. "I'll make us some coffee."
Taehyung pauses a moment as if he's mulling your offer over before he shrugs his winter coat off, hanging it on the coat rack next to the door. He follows you to the kitchen, propping himself against the granite counter, arms folded across his chest as you boil some water. You can feel his eyes on you as move.
"Want me to make this Irish?" You throw him a slightly mischievous look over your shoulder and he cracks a grin.
"Sure. It'll warm me up."
You finish making the drinks a few moments later, handing Taehyung his cup. The two of you share a moment of comfortable silence as you sip the hot liquid. The whiskey burns your throat deliciously. "Are you staying with your parents?" You ask as you blow on your drink to cool it down.
"Yeah. Mom's made one too many jokes about kidnapping me so I can't go back to school, I'm genuinely a little concerned."
"Knowing her the threat is very real." You laugh.
"I'm going to have to keep my wits about me." He jokes. The two of you finish your coffee and you take both cups to the sink. Before you even have a moment to process what's happening Taehyung's body is pressed behind you; he's looming over you, broad chest against your back.
"Want me to help?" He asks, his voice vibrates deep in his throat and it makes you weak.
"Taehyung." You warn.
"What?" He is playing dumb but there's a childish smile playing on his lips. His arms cage you in against the sink. "I'm just offering my assistance."
"That's all you're offering?" You fire back, a sceptical eyebrow raised. "You forget how well I know you."
"You're overthinking, sweetheart." He leans down and kisses your cheek before removing himself from you completely. Taehyung crosses the room and is gone before you can even register what's happened. You put away the now clean dishes and muster as much strength as you can to join Tae in the living room.
"The storm is still raging." You announce as you flop down on the sofa next to him. He looks at you briefly before nodding.
"I just checked the forecast. It's supposed to be like this all night."
"You can stay here tonight, y'know." You point out. It doesn't matter how much time you've spent away from each other, you're not about to leave him stranded. You care, you've always cared.
"You're too good to me, kid." He smiles at the pet name he's always given you, regardless of how much it infuriates you. "I won't stay the night - I'll get out of your hair as soon as possible."
"You're a headache I can deal with Tae," You grin. "Don't worry."
You don't know how it happens or who makes the first move but Taehyung's arm is sliding around your shoulders and your face is nuzzling into his chest. He smells like he always has; like cologne with a hint of sweat. Nothing overt, he just smells like him. It's heady. You try not to think too much about it as you make yourself comfortable.
"We have to keep warm." He says and you can practically hear the smirk on his full lips.
"This is not a good idea." You mumble into his sweater. "I have heating."
"Why not?" He queries.
"You know why." You throw with a warning look but neither of you move away from each other.
"I missed this." He says with a yawn, tugging you that extra bit closer.
"You can't do this with all those college girls that throw themselves at you?" You tease, giving him a playful poke in the stomach. He captures your hand with his to steady it but he doesn't let it go.
"It's not the same." He replies in a small voice. Your head spins at the idea of him with anyone other than you but there's nothing you can do about it. You asked for this. "I'm too busy for girls right now anyhow."
"Sure." You smirk. "Too busy for a girlfriend - not girls."
"Sex doesn't always have to mean something, you know."
"Isn't it better when it does?" You ask, looking up at him. Taehyung pauses and swipes his tongue over his bottom lip in thought.
"Much better." He swallows dryly.
Taehyung's arm is trailing up and down your back as his eyes bore in to yours. It's easy, almost too easy to get lost in him. He's familiar, he's comforting. He feels like home. The way you slot into his embrace feels exact, like you were always meant to be here. "Tae." It almost sounds like you're pleading.
"y/n." He echoes.
He grips your chin between his forefinger and thumb and ever so gently tilts your head upwards. You know what's happening before it does, having been in this situation many times before. Unconsciously your lips part for him as he leans in closer. The moment his lips connect with yours your eyes flutter close and you allow yourself to drown in him.
His hands grip your waist and he squeezes slightly as the kiss deepens. You can't resist running a hand through his hair, it's much longer now than when you saw him last. He groans faintly when your nails scratch at his nape. "Missed you." He whispers against your mouth as he pulls away briefly.
"Missed you too." You whisper back.
He snakes his arms around you tightly and draws you on to his lap. "This is okay right?" He asks, searching your face.
"It's okay." You breathe. "Not a good idea, but it's okay."
He chuckles a little as he leans forward to kiss you once more. It doesn't take long for the kiss to get hot and heavy, tongues clashing and chests heaving. You're not sure if you're pressing yourself into him or if he's holding you there, but either way it feels good as you grind down on his lap. It's obvious he's as into this as you are, you feel the hardening bulge in his trousers as you move.
"God," He groans as he grips you ass with a smack. "I know I said it before but fuck - I missed you."
Lips trail down your face to your neck as if he can't get enough of you. Before you can even register it he's unbuttoning your blouse, mouth following his hands as he goes, kissing very inch of exposed skin. The garment gets tossed to the floor leaving you in your bra. "I'm cold," You whine as you cling to him.
Taehyung says nothing as he stands, strong arms able to carry you easily. He knows where your bedroom is and he takes you there, burying you both underneath the duvet and stealing as many kisses as he can on the way. "Better?"
"Mmhmm," You nod as you help him remove his shirt, the warmth of the bedding allowing you to do so. The feeling of his bare skin against yours is dizzying. "You're keeping me warm."
"I'll do more than that." He smirks as he removes your leggings in one swift motion. They get lost in the sheets somewhere but you have little regard for that, desperate to feel Taehyung between your hips. He shuffles down the bed, slotting his shoulders between your parted thighs, grazing a knuckle against your clothed core. "Were you expecting something?" He smirks, referring to your lacy underwear.
"I like wearing cute panties, leave me alone." You say, trying to close your legs out of embarrassment. He doesn't allow you to, large palms sliding up your skin to keep you open for him. He licks a hot strip up your inner thigh before placing a kiss on your covered centre.
"I like it." He murmurs. "Have you missed my mouth on your little pussy?" His fingertips never stop stroking you as you lock eyes. No one has ever looked at you the way Taehyung does, with so much desire and want. His expression alone is enough to turn you on.
"You have no idea." You whimper from the anticipation.
"I'm still the best right?" He says with a small grin. It's redundant, he doesn't have to ask; you both know he is. Years of mapping out your body has taught him as much. His eyes remain locked with yours as he slides your underwear down, leaving you bare. "Baby I'm not going to touch you until you answer me." His hot breath tickles you, mouth so close to where you need it most.
"You know you are." You groan. "Touch me, Tae. Please."
"How can I say no when you beg me like that?" He flashes you a wicked look before his tongue slips into your pussy, sliding in between your wet folds. It feels so overwhelmingly good you almost want to push him away but you don't, you arch your back allowing him better access. "Feel good?" He asks, pausing briefly to slip a finger into you, mouth returning to your clit.
"Incredible." You answer as best you can, not totally coherent at the present moment. He works you like he knows how, deadly combination of fingers and tongue until your fisting the sheets in your hands and hanging on by a thread. "I'm coming, I'm coming, Tae - fuck." You cry as your release washes over you.
As you regain your breath you gaze at the ceiling, still feeling like the moment was entirely surreal. You hadn't expected this to happen at all. Tae kisses his way up your abdomen until he's hovering over you, resting on his forearms. "You," He states, kissing you once on the mouth. "Are so sexy when you cum. I could watch it fifty times and never get bored."
"You're crazy." You laugh against his mouth.
"Maybe." He hums as his hands move to your back and unclip your bra. "Crazy for you."
"Cheesy."
"But true."
He's taking his trousers off in no time, leaving you both totally naked, cradled in his arms. Outside the storm rages on, the wind rattling at the windows loudly. However loud it is doesn't matter, you feel safe in his arms. You always have.
His hard cock is pressing into you and you know you should stop him but you don't. "You're so big Tae, shit." You say with a small laugh, relaxing as he stretches you out.
"You can take it." He kisses you as he begins to thrust slowly. It's shallow at first but with every movement he gets deeper. "Fuck you feel amazing."
You wrap your legs around his waist, anchoring him to you. "You fuck me so good Tae."
"Yeah I fuck you good. Just me." A hand snakes up your body, giving your breasts a squeeze before locking itself around your throat. It's something Taehyung remembered you liked and he grips tightly. Not tight enough to hurt but enough to restrict your breath and make you feel light headed. "Say my name."
"Taehyung," You choke out as he begins to pound harder, grip tightening.
"Again." He grunts.
"Tae," You manage to get out before you're cut off by your own moan. He always knew exactly how hard and fast to fuck you. Hand still around your throat he leans down and kisses you as he rocks into you. You might have been cold before but now sweat is dripping off of both of you.
Without warning he pulls out of you, flipping you to your front. A hand winds in your hair, pulling you close to him, Tae's mouth against your ear. "Beg for me." He growls.
"I'm not going to beg." You pant.
"I'm not going to fuck you then." He whispers, nipping at your neck, cock teasing your entrance. You try your best to push back on it, desperate to feel him fill you once more but he's quicker, angling himself away from you so you can't. "You just have to tell me how much you want me, angel."
"I want you." You almost feel like crying.
"More than anyone else?" He coos as he spreads your legs from behind with his knee. You fall backwards on him, the only thing keeping you upright are his hands.
"You're the only one I want."
"I want to believe you." He says. "But you don't sound desperate enough."
"Taehyung," You plead. "Just fuck me. Please. Please."
He doesn't answer you, instead he enters you roughly from behind. He drills into you, the combination of roughness with the way he holds you makes you light headed. "Y/n, I'm so close to cumming." He breathes against your ear. "Are you close?"
"I'm close, don't stop."
You're falling apart only moments later. You've never been able to orgasm twice with anyone other than Taehyung. "Baby, I can come inside right?" He says breathlessly. You give him a helpless yes as you recover before he's spilling inside of you. "There's nothing better." He groans as he rides out his orgasm. "Fuck."
When you attempt to move away after he's slowed to a halt he only grips you tighter. "I need to clean up." You complain with a laugh.
"No, you need to stay with me." He pulls out and already you can feel the mess he's made trickling down your thigh. "Don't regret this." He takes you by surprise as he holds you. "We love each other, we know each other. Don't get mad at yourself for this."
"I wont be mad. Just sad when you leave again." You admit, avoiding his gaze but he chases you, unwilling to let you hide.
"You think I won't be sad when I leave too?" He hums. You've never really thought too much about that.
"You will?"
"I fucking hate being without you."
"It's for the best, Tae." You remind him sadly.
"No - 'for the best' is when we're both happy. Are you happy right now?"
"Yes." You reply unconvincingly.
"Liar." He responds with a kiss. "I'll wait for you. I always will."
masterlist
#bts fanfiction#bts ff#bts fanfic#taehyung smut#bts smut#taehyung ff#taehyung fanfiction#tae smut#taehyung fanfic#taehyung oneshot#v fanfic#v fanfiction
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