#let’s hash it out together and then at the end you can leave if you want | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ethical-cain-vinnel · 7 months

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hear me out, you and anakin have been enemies for years like just constant head butting and competition, and one day y’all both are training and your both trying to show off competitively, and afterwards, just to piss him if you say your master is kind of attractive or something and what happens next happens 🤭 sorry i’m famished for enemies to lovers anakin stuff

RAHHHHHH I LOVE THIS IDEA THIS HAS ME LEGIT FOAMING AT THE MOUTH THANK YOU GIRLBOSS

SPOILED BITCH

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x reader

Teaser Trailer: Your Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi usually has you and Anakin separated when training. He’s worried that the animosity between you two could eventually lead to one of you getting hurt because you two don’t know when to stop. But today, on the rest day for training, he’s woken you two up and has decided that you two would hash out your differences and train together for the first (and probably last) time.

Tags/Warnings: Bickering, porn with plot, very little use of Y/N, no gendered terms (girl, she/her, etc) but AFAB anatomy (im sorry idk how to write AMAB anatomy), hatefucking, lowkey dubcon at the start but quickly turns consensual, mentions of Padme (they’re broken up in this), bath sex, rough sex, little to no prep (make sure to prep irl or that shit HURTS, coming from your local whore), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly, wrap ya willy), choking, fluff at the end

Notes: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I LOWKEY HAD NO IDEA HOW TO START IT LMFAO but im really glad you sent this in cause I had a lot of fun writing this!! I did change it a little bit but it still has that enemies to lovers plot that you said you were jonesing for so I hope you like it! Also im so sorry if anakin is ooc i really tried to make him true to his character.

In the heart of the Jedi Temple, a place of serenity and wisdom, were two dickheads who couldn’t stop bickering and driving their master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, absolutely insane. Every word moved him more and more to the dark side (kidding, not kidding). “You’ll never be a true Jedi, Skywalker,” You taunted, your eyes flashing with defiance. “You let your emotions control you too easily.” “And you’re too focused on rules and regulations,” he shot back, his tone dripping with disdain. “The Jedi Code has made you blind to the real world.” You were about to respond when your master spoke. “Enough. Both of you.” He turns around and gives you both a sharp glare. This shuts you both right up. “Sorry, Master,” You both mumble like scolded children. Obi-Wan sighs and continues taking you to the training ground.

When you arrive at the grounds, you and Anakin shoot each other confused looks before Obi-Wan begins to speak. “In the past, I have not let you two train together. This is because I am afraid one, if not both of you, will have bad physical injuries by the end. But,” Flashes of annoyance and exhaustion from months of your constant bickering show in his eyes. “You two have officially worn me down. Today, you will train together. I will not be supervising because I feel you two should work this out by any means necessary. As long as you both come out of the training alive, I don’t care what happens here.” You begin to feel a bit guilty. You and Anakin have indeed pushed your master to his limits. But that’s quickly replaced by excitement and needing to beat Anakin.

Obi-Wan laid out the rules of the training before quickly leaving the grounds. With Obi-Wan's departure, you and Anakin found yourselves standing on the training ground, lightsabers in hand, the tension thick enough to slice through. Anakin couldn't resist taking the first jab, both verbally and physically. "Well, Y/N, let's see if you can back up all that talk." You smirked, your eyes glinting with determination. "Oh, Anakin, I've been waiting for this moment. Let's see if you can finally prove that you're not all bark and no bite." The clash of lightsabers rang out as the duel commenced, the blades creating sparks of energy that mirrored the sparks flying between you. "You're still too aggressive, Anakin," you taunted, sidestepping his lunge. "The Force doesn't respond well to blind rage, you know," Anakin grunted, his frustration evident. "And you're too busy following the rule book to see the big picture. Sometimes, you have to do what's necessary." Your retort came swiftly, "Sometimes, what's necessary isn't letting your emotions run rampant. That's how we fall to the dark side." The battle raged, each strike and parry accompanied by another biting remark. It was as if the Force itself reveled in your ongoing rivalry, fueling the intensity of the duel.

"You know, Anakin, maybe if you focused on your training more than your obsession with winning, you'd improve," you quipped, dodging a particularly aggressive swipe from his lightsaber. Anakin's eyes blazed with anger, and he pushed harder, but you deftly countered his every move. "And maybe if you let loose a bit, you'd discover there's more to the Force than ancient texts and lectures." Your movements became fluid, almost graceful, as you expertly parried Anakin's attacks. "I'll take wisdom over recklessness any day, Anakin." As the duel continued, your words stung as much as your strikes, and it was clear that Anakin was growing frustrated, his resolve wavering. He overextended himself in a moment of vulnerability, leaving an opening you quickly seized. With a swift maneuver, you disarmed him, sending his lightsaber flying out of his grasp. You held your lightsaber at his throat, a triumphant smile on your lips. "Checkmate," you declared, breathing heavily but victorious.

Later that night, you were getting ready for bed. The training with Anakin was rewarding but so fucking tiring. You had bruises and small cuts all over your body that stung as you entered the hot bath, the salts meant for relaxation causing your muscles to tense up and a small, involuntary whimper to leave your mouth. As you sunk deeper into the water, you relaxed more. Your cuts still stung, but it was all worth it to wipe that stupid smile off of your rival’s face. God, his stupid face. You had no idea what Padme sees in him. His stupid brooding blue eyes, his full lips that always turn into a scowl when he sees you. Fuck. Even you, his number one rival, can’t deny that he’s really hot. You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear someone enter the bathroom. You immediately make sure your entire body is below the water, the bubbles covering you. You look to see who it is and it’s Anakin. “Anakin, what the FUCK?? GET OUT!” you begin to scream when he covers your mouth, glaring down at you as he leans over the tub. Your voice got caught in your throat as his glare sent shivers down your spine and warmth down to your pussy. When he can tell you’ve officially shut up, he slowly takes his hand off of your mouth and for a moment, you two just stare at each other, a mix of hatred and lust. “You're a real spoiled bitch, you know that?” he seethes and you scoff. “Oh, I’m spoiled cause I was able to put you in your place?” His hand shoots to grab your neck, choking you slightly and you let out a small whimper, not expecting it. He smirks and pulls you into a rough kiss, your mind going a million miles an hour. You pull away and he lets you, not wanting to force you into anything you don’t want to do. “What is wrong with you??” You say, obviously bothered. “You’re dating Padme and you’re trying to kiss me and fuck me?? What is wrong with you??” You fume. He smirks a bit, thinking your reaction is a bit funny. “Padme and I broke up a month ago.” Those words make your jaw drop and your eyes practically bug out of your skull.

But he knows that all of your inhibitions were limited only to him not being single, as you immediately pull him into another heated kiss, tongue and teeth clashing as you help him hastily strip off his robes and you pull him into the tub with you. You lay back against the porcelain and he gets on top of you, his hand coming up to choke you slightly again. He begins to kiss down your neck and to your collarbone, his free hand coming to pinch your soapy tits and you whine. Your hand found his cock in the water and lined him up with your entrance. He quickly pushed in and gave you no time to adjust to his (massive) size as he began pounding you roughly. “Stupid spoiled bitch. Always a pain in my ass yet I’m dicking you down.” He mumbles breathily as his cock hits your g spot over and over again, leaving you breathless. “Say thank you.” He demands but you’re already too fucked out to hear. It isn’t until he slaps you across the face that you can listen. “I fucking said thank me. Do it and maybe I’ll let you cum tonight” “Thank you!! Thank you Anakin!!” You moan loudly and his hand comes back to your throat, a smirk on his face “Yea thats what I fuckin’ thought. Good fuckin slut f’me. So fuckin good” He pants as he fucks your pussy with reckless abandon. He can feel your cunt clenching on him, signaling that you’re close to cumming and if he wasn’t also on the brink, he woulda stopped right then and there and ruined your orgasm. “Cum f’me. Cum f’me, baby” He moans and the chord in your belly snaps, covering his cock with your juices as you moan his name. He whimpers softly and you feel as he fills you up with his cum. You’re both left panting and after a few moments you two start to laugh softly, looking at the mess you made. Water and bubbles all over the floor, the water in the tub left white and milky and your bodies sweaty and bruised. He looks at you in a way he never has before and he leans down to kiss you sweetly. “C’mon. Stand up and I’ll help you shower” He says with a sweet smile. You have a feeling things are going to be different from now on between you.

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hangmanssunnies · 2 years

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Inconceivable!

Summary: No one tells you how hard it is to have to plan to leave and hurt the love of your life. However, when you know you want different things, you must choose. And your baby is probably the only thing you can ever imagine choosing over Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem! Reader

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Word count: 8.2k words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, fertility problems, panic attacks, Angst with a happy ending, threatening to break Brad's heart, so many references to The Princess Bride,Soft!smut, Soft!Bradley, Organized!Bradley. Let me know if I missed any others.

Authors Note: No use of Y/N. As always, I love BradBrad so much y'all. I don't know if I can write nonangsty smut. I was thinking of him and kids. The next thing you know I wrote whatever this is. Bradley wearing glasses 🥵. I hope you enjoy this! My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are always appreciated as well! I love reading through them.

You knew Bradley never wanted to be a father, which was just fine with you because you knew you couldn't have kids. You had known about your fertility problems for a long time and had long ago come to peace with it.

Y'all had several conversations about children when you first started dating. Once you both felt like your feelings on the matter were hashed out, you had never really felt like revisiting the topic. Your life wasn't less or empty without kids. You were perfectly content with the life you and Rooster had made together.

That's why you have no idea what to do with the situation you are in right now. You were at your gynecologist for your annual check-up. Taking a pregnancy test was standard procedure, something you didn't even bat your eyes about or worry over. What you weren't prepared for was the positive results back.

"I'm sorry?" You choked out in disbelief. "That can't be possible."

"I know this is probably surprising, but," your doctor starts to say before you cut them off.

"No. No, I have known since I was 17 that I can't get pregnant."

"Well, you are and can. Sometimes miracles like this can happen," your doctor responded kindly.

She went on to ramble more and talk about some next steps and options. You felt shocked, not entirely sure how to process the information she was throwing your way. You left the office a bit later, promising to set up a follow-up appointment.

Your first thought was to get an abortion. It was the obvious solution. Bradley didn't want kids, and you hadn't wanted them either. Right? You tried to think if it was true. Was it that you didn't want kids or just that you couldn't have kids?

For the next week, you tried to run the pros and cons and sort out your feelings on what was happening. You tried to act as normal as possible with Bradley. You didn't want to bring anything up until you knew how you felt.

Part of you kept coming back to when you were a little girl to how growing up before you knew that you couldn't have kids, the promise you would whisper to yourself. The promise of how you would do better than your own parents did.

You thought of the fantasies you used to have: the baby shoes, baking in the kitchen guiding a tiny pair of hands, sports practices, matching sweaters for family holiday cards, first recitals, proms and homecomings, dropping them off for their first day of college, and parent's weekends where you buy cheap booze, family trips, the possibilities of grandkids.

Now suddenly, all those fantasies were a possibility again. A reality that could come true in less than a year. Thinking about them brought an ache to your chest. An ache that manifested as want, a desire so strong all the cons you could come up with didn't really matter, well, all of them but one.

The biggest problem of the puzzle was Bradley, the love of your life. You had absolutely no doubt that he would do the right thing and stay by your side. However, you didn't want him to be a dad because he had to do it. The thought of him being forced to do something he didn't want to, just because it's the right thing, made your stomach roll. The idea of part of him resenting you, and eventually your child too, because of something you chose. That was something you couldn't live with.

So even though you felt a heavy hurt in your chest, you knew you had to leave Bradley. You weighed that heartbreak compared to the want for this child that had bloomed in your chest, and one outweighed the other. So now, on top of thinking about the baby, you started to think through quiet plans of how it would hurt your husband least to leave him.

You almost broke down one night and told him the two of you had been lying on the couch together. Bradley was casually spooning you from behind, one of his hands playing with a lock of hair while the movie he picked played on the TV. Of course, it was the Princess Bride, one of his all-time favorites.

You were half watching the movie, half dozing. Bradley was too good at soothing you, and you had started noticing a significant change in your energy levels as of late. You mentally made a note to bring it up at the follow-up doctor's appointment you had scheduled.

"I would do that," Bradley suddenly says, bringing you back to alertness.

"Oh really?" you hum, unsure what he was talking about.

"Yes, I would wait five years and chase after kidnappers, fight the prince, build a tolerance to poison, all for you, baby."

Bradley's honest love for you warmed your chest like it always did. However, the current circumstances turned that warmth into a bitter aftertaste in the back of your throat. What you were doing haunted you. His hand drops your hair and traces down your arm until he threads your fingers together. His large hand in yours helped further break down your resolve.

"What if I asked you to do something you didn't want to?" You ask him hesitantly.

"If you wanted me to, then I would," Brad tells you plainly. As if that were a given, you should just expect that his desires would line up with yours. It doesn't put you at ease like you were hoping it would.

"What if it was something you really didn't want to. Something bigger than sword fights and rodents of unusual size?"��

His hand flexes squeezing yours a little tighter. Bradley doesn't say anything for a moment, and you wait with bated breath. Finally, he nuzzles your neck with his nose before asking, "Do you have something specific in mind?"

That was the moment, the moment that you could come clean to him. You could be honest and lay it all out on the table, but you don't. You can't. You aren't ready to let him go yet; it's too soon, you tell yourself.

So you lie to him, finally pushing the words out your throat, "No, nothing specific. Just asking."

Bradley's fingers that are laced with yours squeeze yours again, and you have the sneaking suspicion that he doesn't believe your lie. "Well, even if it was big. We would do what we always do. We'll talk about it and figure it out. Then I'll agree with what you want, just like I always do."

"You shouldn't do things you don't want to do just for me, Brad," you chastise him lightly. The heavy pit in your chest constricts even more.

He kisses your head, pulling you a little tighter against him in his embrace. "Sure, whatever you say, babe."

The whole thing sits with you for another week, and the doctor's appointment you made starts to creep closer. You are reading an article in incognito mode on your phone about nutrition during pregnancy and the importance of vitamins. Occasionally, you glance up to see Bradley sitting on the other side of the couch.

He has a thick World War Two biography book wide open, nearing the end. His reading glasses are perched on the edge of his nose. Even though you had teased Brad relentlessly when he first got them, the glasses were actually really hot. The sight of them on him now makes heat start to bud in the bottom of your abdomen.

You lock your phone and set it aside, looking more thoroughly at Bradley now. He was so so very handsome. You found it unlikely there would ever be another man you would allow into your bed after him. The edges of panic that seep into you every time you consider the inevitable end with Bradley makes a reappearance. You push it to the side as much as possible, but it creates a sudden desperation for him in you.

"Bradley."

"Yes, my love?" He asks, not looking up from the page in front of him.

"I need something."

"What do you need?" He turns the page of his book and pushes those damn glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

"I need you," you tell him, biting your lip.

His eyes snap up from the page to look at you, and his eyebrows raise, processing your words. "What was that?"

"I need you to make love to me, Brad. I'm on fire."

He dog ears the page he is on his book and sets it on the coffee table, turning to give you his full attention. His hands casually trace up your leg, massaging the tense muscles of your claves.

You let out a soft sigh at the feeling. A few moments later, Bradley crawls up your body, pressing soft kisses to your neck and then melding his lips to yours. You sigh into his mouth, enjoying the taste of him, trying to savor it. You pull off his reading glasses so they aren't in the way, haphazardly tossing them away.

When he starts to pull away, you wrap your arms around him, drawing him closer, not wanting any space between you. You trace one of your hands down his neck and under the collar of his shirt, tracing his shoulders, kissing him harder, slipping your tongue into his mouth.

"What has got you so needy, sweet girl?" He asks you, confused, pressing a few soft sweet kisses to your throat.

"Just you, handsome man," you tell him, trying to draw Bradley back to your lips. Bradley smiles, hearing your words but then shifts off you and the couch.

Before you can protest at his absence, he goes to pick you up. Like every time Bradley picks you up, you are hit with the worry that it will be the time he can't do it, or he will drop you, make heaving grunting sounds, or some other terrible mishap will come to pass. It doesn't, though; he secures you in his arms and starts to carry you through the house to your room.

You start pressing kisses to the readily presented column of his neck then. When he reaches your bed and goes to put you down, you sink your teeth into the space where his neck starts to curve into his shoulder. Although he lets out a hiss, you hadn't held back with the bite. You made it intending to mark him.

When he does set you down, you scramble hurriedly to start undressing him, desperate to see and feel the expanses of his golden skin. Unfortunately, you only get Brad out of his teeshirt before he stops you. His large hands close around your wrists, holding them tight, preventing them from moving further down, lower than the top of his abdomen.

"Slow down, pretty girl. We got all the time in the world," he says. You know, he said it to be soothing, but he didn't know how wrong he was. He didn't understand the finite amount of time you had left together.

So when he lets go of your wrist, you instead start to pull off your own clothes and settle yourself on the bed. You stare at him expectantly and let out the smallest huff.

"Slow down." He tells you again, "And, don't move your hands off the headboard," When he is satisfied with how you are holding it, he starts to kiss down your body.

"Why are you so worried?" he breaths out against your inner thigh, pressing feather-light kisses to the skin there. "You know I'm going to take care of you, my love. I always do. There's no reason to be so worried."

Bradley's words manage to hit the exact spot of comfort you are actually needing. Even though you are planning on leaving him. You still want him to take care of you; you want to do this with him. But, you also know that can't happen. So, regardless you feel more at ease; the desperation in you is not quite so hot, not making you jittery with need.

Bradley rewards the way your body relaxes by licking stripe over you. You resist the urge to let go of the headboard and bury your hands in Bradley's thick hair. The way he sucks your clit into his mouth to roll his tongue over makes you arch, needing more. Bradley lays his arm across your hips, applying pressure to keep you still under him.

The more you work to struggle against his arm, feeling your high edge closer and closer, a thought suddenly pops into your head. Is it still okay for Bradley to hold you down like this? Are you going to hurt your baby? It's an irrational thought, you know that, but your body instantly reacts to it. Of course, so early into your pregnancy, there is no reason this would be a problem, but you still drop your hips down onto the bed, no longer trying to move them against him. Your distraction pulled you far back from the edge.

You try to focus on the feel of Bradley's tongue and how warm he feels with his shoulders caged between your thighs. But only a few breaths later, Bradley is lifting his head to look at you.

He has a crease between his eyebrows, and his tongue that was just around you darts out to lick to own lips. "What just stopped you from coming?" he asks, concerned. His voice is thick and low. His hold over your waist disappears as he draws soothing circles on your hip. Bradley's concern draws you back to him and into the want you have for him.

You let go of the headboard and stretch out your arms. Then, burying your hands in his hair, you tilt Brad's face to fully meet your eyes.

"Make love to me, Bradley," you beg him. He stares at you for a very long minute, and you stare back at him, waiting. Finally, he pulls his eyes away from yours and stares at your center in front of him.

"As you wish," he mutters the words. Rooster pulls himself off the bed and pulls his sweats off. You drag your eyes over his naked body, taking him all in. You lick your lips at the sight.

"You are breathtaking, Brad," you tell him. That smile that melts your heart shows up on his face, and he glows under your praise.

You crawl to the edge of the bed and trace your hands up his muscular thighs. You guide your hand upwards. You brush over his cock, not really giving it any attention, before outlining his side, watching his stomach and abs contract under your fingers. You go slowly, trying to memorize the feel of his skin under you. You kiss along his chest too.

He leans down and captures your lips. You kiss Rooster back, glad that the fervor has left your body, but you are no less desperate for him. The desire to memorize him doesn't go.

You urge him onto the bed, pushing him on his back. You straddle Bradley, settling over him, with his cock nestled in between your lower lips. You give a small rock, his head bumping into your clit. You moan a little and repeat the motion.

Leaning forward, you rest your hands on his chest to give you more leverage. Rooster moves his hips with you increasing the friction. The pace is slow and almost teasing for both of you.

Shifting your weight, you lean and kiss him again. Bradley's tongue slips into your mouth, running against yours. One of his hands comes up and rests on your hip, urging you, pulling you further down to rub against him harder. His other hand cups one of your breasts, his thumb running over your nipple in swirling strokes.

You break his embrace just to reach your hand and guide him inside. Bradley lets out a heavy sigh as he slips into you. You resist the urge to slide all the way down his length, keeping it slow.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he tells you, biting his lips.

"Love how you fill me, Brad," you sigh once he is fully hilted. Both of you are breathing more elevated. When you start to move your hips again, Bradley closes his eyes and presses his head back into the bed.

You immediately stop moving, glaring down at him. "No," you say, and his eyes open instantly, looking at you again. You reach up a hand to grip his chin affectionately, holding his face in place. "I need to see you."

"You are so beautiful," he tells you. Bradley does as you want and doesn't break eye contact again.

The room is filled with both of your moanings as you work together at a slow, steady pace. The way his hands run along your skin and back is almost reverent. The heat in you starts to build again. You grind down hard onto Bradley so that your clit gets more stimulation.

Rooster's right hand comes around and settles on your lower stomach, applying pressure and letting his thumb dip down to brush your clit in light strokes. You gasp, a moan breaking from your throat. You freeze on top of Bradley's cock, enjoying the zing his thumb just sent up your spine.

"That's right. So good." Bradley moans out, pressing his thumb harder into you. Even though he is filling you so deliciously, you don't feel close enough to him. You feel like you want to crawl into his skin. That would be the only thing that would satisfy your need for him.

You grab his hand that isn't on your clit and thread your fingers together. His hand grips yours back. Bradley doesn't make any movement to shift either of your hips, content to play with your clit and stare into your eyes.

"Fuck, I love you." Bradley groans out, biting his lower lip. You start to rock your hips into his again, but for the most part, keeping him fully hilted inside you. You almost feel like you are drowning in his eyes with how he looks up at you. His heavy-lidded gaze makes you clench around him.

Your moans and quiet pants mix with his. The tension in you grows as you swirl your hips into his.

"Need this, need you." Bradley swirls his thumb a little harder and does break eye contact to nip your neck, sitting more up on the bed to get a better angle. Having more of your skin pressed together helps ease more of the ache in you.

You grip his hair again, pulling him up, shifting, so you are chest to chest. Bradley's free hand clutches you close to him. You trace the scars on his cheek with your lips before kissing him again.

"I love you," you sigh against his mouth. He groans and rocks his hips into yours, creating a bit more friction. Rooster understands just what you need, not pulling out of you.

The two of you build a rhythm together; finally, you can't hold back anymore. The bubble in you bursts, and you clench hard around Bradey's cock. Bradley takes a few more gasping breaths and then cums in you with a low moan. Bradley starts to move like he is going to pull out of you, so you whine and hold him closer.

"No, no. I need you closer," you tell him. You are still desperate to have him near. You press your nose into Rooster's neck, breathing in his natural musky scent. Trying to absorb the smell entirely, memorizing it before biting the skin and tasting it.

"Woah. Woah," Bradley says breathily. You let out a low hum in response, trying to savor his sounds as well. You wiggle your hips against him again, where he is still half hard. You consciously clench around his dick, reminding yourself how full Bradley makes you.

"Baby, stop," he says. Rooster's voice is wrecked, and his large hands hold your hips still. At first, you don't even hear his request until he repeats it more forcefully. Then he rolls you over onto your back and pulls out of you quickly. You gasp at the sudden loss of him. You have to lay there for a moment, trying to reorient yourself. Bradley is sitting on the edge of the bed, panting hard, his hands on his knees.

"Bradley?" You croak out, reaching a hand hesitantly towards him. He looks back at you, and his face is a mix of panicked and furious.

"What the fuck was that?" He asks you in a low growl.

"What was what?"

"Don't bullshit me."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," you tell him, drawing your eyebrows close together.

"That was was goodbye sex," he says slowly. Your mouth drops open, and you try to reach around your rattling brain to come up with an answer, an excuse. However, you find it completely empty.

"That was the exact kind of sex we have before I leave and deploy. You had the same look." Bradley was almost shaking, and you had no idea what to say that wouldn't be a lie.

"What's going on? Something has been wrong for weeks. I keep waiting for you to talk to me, and you fucking haven't."

"I —" you start to say, but Bradley's eyes are so captivating, so genuine, you can't lie to him. So before you even know what you are saying, the words fall out of your mouth, "I'm leaving."

Rooster physically recoils at your words. The line of his back is taut, and his eyebrows draw together. His mouth presses into a tight line. His jaw flexing, and you can tell he is clenching his teeth. "What did I do wrong?"

"No, sweetie," you say quickly. "It's not you. It's me." You tell him gently. It was you, well, you and this baby, but Brad didn't need to know that. Your words only seemed to make him more upset.

"Are you kidding me? You didn't just say that." He mutters it under his breath, pulling at his short curls in frustration and glaring at you. He is so tense the veins in his bicep and neck start to pop.

"I'm sorry," you offer him quietly.

"I don't want to hear sorry. I want to hear a reason. Were you going to tell me? Or just planning to disappear?"

"Of course, I was going to tell you."

"When?"

"Soon."

"Why? "

"I can't..."

"No. I think I deserve to know why the love of my life is leaving me," Bradley says, frustrated. He stands up from bed, goes to his drawers, and pulls on some boxers to throw on. He also grabs one of his old Sigma Pi shirts out of his drawer and throws it for you to shrug on.

You felt shame and frustration building in you. You didn't want to deal with this situation right now. You didn't want to have to tell Bradley why. Then to your absolute horror, and probably the hormones coursing through you, you burst into tears.

Bradley's pacing halts for a moment at the sight of your tears, but then he resumes momentarily as he balls his fist tight. His knuckles turning a paler shade.

"We want different things." You gasp out between the sobs racking your body.

"We want different things," he repeats slowly, like he is trying to piece out some hidden meaning in the words.

"Yes," you hiccup nodding your head.

"How could that be possible?" He questions you sharply. "If that were the case, we wouldn't have gotten married. And you didn't mention anything when we had our last relationship check-in."

Bradley was big on communication. He insisted y'all have seasonal relationship check-ins with each other to talk about anything that had happened and how you were feeling about your relationship. This conversation should have probably been reserved for the next one, but you couldn't wait a few more weeks before leaving, or Bradley would know.

You were going to start showing at some point; while all the articles you read were inconsistent about when that might happen, it would happen eventually. You knew it would probably be impossible to leave Rooster if he knew that you were pregnant. Every moment with him weakened your resolve to do the right thing.

"Things change, people change." You weakly tell him. Not able to conceive a better excuse.

"I don't understand why you are jumping into leaving me. Baby, why won't you talk to me?" Bradley suddenly dropped hard to his knees on the wood floor at the side of the bed. You winced at the sound it made. He pulls one of your hands into both of his. "Please talk to me," he begs you, holding your hand delicately in his. The puppy dog look Bradley has mastered coming out in full force.

"I can't…"

"You can," he reassures you, swiping a thumb across your pulse point. You felt your stomach roll, the emotions in you going haywire.

"I'm…" you trail off and then shake your head at him in denial of this situation. As soon as you tell Bradley, it will be over.

"It's okay, baby. Anything. You can tell me anything. Talk to me. I won't be mad," he adds on for your benefit. Your plans all crumbled at that moment because how can you deny Bradley Bradshaw anything when he begs for it.

"I'm pregnant," you finally whisper in a barely audible voice. With how Bradley reacted to your words, you might as well have screamed them. First, he flinches like a whole body flinch. Every muscle you can see tensing. He shutters and his grip on your hand tightens to where it is almost painful.

Bradley freezes like that for a moment, blinking at you owlishly, before he drops his head down, hiding his face from your view. Finally, he presses his face down into the bed.

You wait with bated breath. Rooster's grip on your hand didn't lessen in the slightest. You feel panic settle in the back of your throat when his shoulders start to tremble, and he still hasn't said anything.

"Bradley?" You flex your hand, resisting his tight grip, and he releases you. His hands fall limply on the bed. He still hasn't looked at you, though.

Tears start to streak down your face faster, and a small sob hitches in your throat. "I am sorry," you tell him sincerely.

"Are you really?" His low voice asks muffled.

"Sorry, or pregnant?" You ask pulling up the collar of his shirt you are wearing to wipe away some of your tears. "Because it's both."

His hands come to clasp themselves together, and you briefly wonder if he is praying. The shaking of his shoulders and the inability to see his face make it increasingly impossible to understand his reaction.

Finally, he looks at you, and those hazel eyes bleed back at you, tears still falling down his face staining his cheeks a bright red even through the healthy tan he has right now. Bradley's eyes trace over your face looking like he is searching for any trace of a lie. Then he examines your body under his shirt like he might already see a difference.

As if there was a difference, he would be able to notice now that he didn't notice before when you were naked, and he was inside of you. You wrap your arms around your chest, hugging yourself under his scrutiny.

"I'm going to keep it." You finally tell him now that Bradley's shining eyes are available for scrutiny again. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his face falls into a frown. "I'm sorry," you say again.

You try to think of the right words to explain yourself to him. "When I found out, I realized I wanted this. I know we always said we didn't. But I really want this baby, Bradley. I am sorry I kept it from you. I just didn't know how to tell you. And then I saw these baby shoes in the store. They were so cute." Your fingers knot into the edge of the worn frat shirt you are wearing. His hazel eyes aren't giving you much to go off of. They are still darting around your face like he is trying to figure out what you are telling him.

Brad abruptly stands up in the middle of your rambling. So, you halt your words. Watching him as he walks out of the room. You strain your ears, trying to listen to where he went. You hear the hallway door open and beeps coming from the safe. After hearing it click open and seal again, Bradley's feet can be heard on the hallway floor again.

Your mind runs, trying to think of what he could have grabbed from the safe. Your important documents? You silently make a note that was something that you need to be sure to pack. You wouldn't want to come back to Bradley to get your passport or something after leaving. Could it be money? Was he going to give you money to leave with and give you some of the cash you two had been saving to move?

The thoughts make breathing extra hard, and you start to suck air in and out rapidly. The panic floods your veins, making the walls of the room shrink inward towards you. Sharp tingles prick at your fingertips and toes.

Before you can run through any other possible scenario, he gets back.

You can't focus on Bradley enough to see him through the black that starts to edge in at the corner of your vision. You desperately try to pull a gasping breath in your chest. The action of breathing is suddenly too overwhelming.

The panic of what you had just done finally cutting into you. That Bradley now knew the secrets you had been harboring so close to your chest. There is wringing in your ears, the shuddering wracking your body. You curl into yourself to try and shield yourself from the hurt and panic ringing through your body.

Then, you are engulfed. There isn't enough weight on the outside of you to combat the storm of panic that was trying to burst out from the inside of your veins. Numbness fills your body, and you know you are close to passing out. The storm brewed inside you, desperate to escape your body, desperate to take you out at the same time.

Heaving in breaths gets harder and more difficult. You dig your nails hard into the skin of your thighs, trying to scramble for anything to steady yourself. Fighting each desperate moment when there is s shift.

At first, you don't know what has changed. However, your breaths get a gasp longer, allowing slightly more oxygen, and the black in your vision starts to recede. You slam your eyes shut at the nausea you feel. The more air you can finally take in, the more you are allowed to start making sense of anything besides your own haywire body.

You are wrapped in your weighted blanket, and the extra pressure is aided by Bradley. He is holding you tight within his arms and legs, and he has you pulled close to his chest.

His legs are wrapped around your hips and crossed in front of you. Giving the front of your body room. Your legs are trapped between you two. One of his arms is crossed over your chest, and the other is petting your head soothingly, playing with your hair occasionally.

Bradley is humming to you. You try and focus on the tune. It's like a lifeline; you cling to the sound, letting it help your thoughts trail away from your panic. You keep trying to breathe bigger, longer breaths consciously now.

It's a tune you have heard before. Finally, Bradley breaks from the humming, whispering one of the lyrics into your ear, and you can immediately place the song.

"Love of my life," he mutters lowly into your ear, and then he returns to his humming. You are flashed back to a different time he sang this song to you.

He had been perched on the bench of a piano. Fingers gliding over the keys in time, his sweet voice dipping between octaves. It was Love Of My Life, by Queen. It is the song Bradley sings to you before every single deployment.

The song feels like a confirmation that you two will not be making it. A confirmation he is letting you go. This is the song that always fills the space between you when parting ways. The small semblance of recovery you had made is gone. Your breaths start to quicken again as you are dragged back into the panic.

Bradley's arms flex hard, and there is slightly more pressure around you. The beads of the weighted blanket shifting under his hands. He continues humming the song, but this time he peppers in a few more of the lyrics.

"Love of my life, don't leave me," he croons softly into your ear.

You don't know how long Bradley holds you waiting for you to calm down. You don't ever feel at ease, but the slow breaths and Bradley's soothing voice help bring you down from the high and worst of the panic attack.

You manage to let out a little whimper, and Bradley's arms start to loosen around you in slow intervals. You turn your face to the side, slotting your eyes up to catch a glimpse of him. Bradley has his eyes closed, and his face is splotchy and red from crying still. You fill in some of the lyrics to his humming in a cracked, barely there voice. Those beautiful eyes flash open, hearing your voice join his humming.

He won't stop humming, though. Rooster's hazel eyes are so intense, a medusas snare, that even as hard as you try to close your eyes, you aren't successful. They have captivated you entirely. Bradley finishes humming the song and lets his arms slip from around you. His legs uncross, and they fall flat on the bed on either side of you.

You push the weighted blanket off your top, so it is pilled around your legs as you ease out of your curled position.

"BradBrad," you whisper for him. You are still trembling at the very tips of your fingers. The buzz and tingles at the front of your nose are still persistent, but feeling has returned to the rest of your body. The needles fade out of your hands and legs.

"Love of my life," he hums sweetly again. His eyes have a tiny bit of worry, but for the most part, they are full of love and adoration for you. His body is borderline hot to the touch and feverish behind you. His heart is thumping loudly under your ear.

Brad's now loose hands find new purchase, gliding over your hips, tracing slow, steady circles. Then his left hand starts creeping forward further. Bradley's large hand is suddenly under his shirt and splaying out flat against your lower belly. That is where it finds its perch.

You gasp at the feeling of his hand, at the placement of it. Brad's fingers make the tiniest indents pressing into your skin. Your breath hitches at his squeeze. The metal of his wedding ring is warm against your skin, a nice contrast to the rest of his hand.

Hearing the way your breath hitches, Bradley immediately lays his hand fully flat. Bradley now retreating to a feather-light touch. His fingers swirl in an unknown pattern on your skin. His hands like to trace the shapes of flight paths he has memorized.

It was something Bradley had confessed to you one night during pillow talk. The two of you sprawled together. You were laying half on his chest. His fingertips were tracing the length of your spine, in feather-light trials, moving from the base of your spine to the small of your back, then following the path again. His fingers would sometimes brush into your hair and give small scratches before tracing your flesh again.

"How do you do that?" You finally had asked him.

"Do what?" He responded, but something about the glint in his eye told you he knew exactly what you were referring to. Rooster just wanted you to admit it out loud.

"You are so consistent, but you keep me on my toes." Bradley's hand stills where it had been gliding on your back. Then he started to trace once more, but this time his fingers making small movements and taking on a new drag like pattern dancing across your back.

"Is that right?" He asked you, but there was a full-blown boyish smirk donning his face.

You nodded your head, licking your lips. The tingles that his hands were sending through your body started to warm you up even after just having finished with him. "Yes, it rocks my world. So, why don't you let me on the secret?"

"I'm just that good, baby," he told you cheekily.

"Bradley Bradshaw." You warned lowly.

"It's flight paths."

"What?"

"I use the flight paths I have memorized," his fingers danced in a looping motion doubling back and then tracing forward again.

"They make it easy to loop, but it's long enough that there is different pacing, or I use the piano," He told you, letting his fingers tap and shift along your back as if it was a set of ivories suddenly. It had made you giggle.

"That might have been one of the sexiest things you have ever told me, Bradley." You had told him before you kissed him silly. And letting him showcase those skills with his tongue for the second time that night.

Now, Brad's hand that is lying against your stomach also starts to follow a pattern. You open your mouth, but Bradley quickly cuts you off.

"Please, don't say sorry."

"But I am."

"That was a bad attack."

It was true that you hadn't had one that severe in a while. "I'm—"

"Do not say sorry," he repeats. You sigh heavily and move to stop leaning against Bradley. However, he doesn't let you. The hand on your hip and lower abdomen fighting you and drawing you flush against him. He settles you, so you are comfortably leaning against his chest again.

"I am sorry," Brad finally says, almost a whisper in your ear.

"You are sorry?"

"Yes."

"Why?" You question him. Not sure you understand what he is apologizing for.

"Why are you going to leave me?" Brad asks instead of answering your question.

You sigh and close your eyes. You lean your head back, so it's settled on Bradley's shoulder. Then take a deep calming breath before responding. "I know you don't want kids. You have always been very honest about that, and it's not your fault I'm pregnant.

"Well, I don't think you went and got pregnant by yourself. It's kind of a process that takes two contributing parties. Unless you are going to tell me that it's someone else's." Bradley says the words so incredulously that you know he has no doubt the baby is his.

"I know you don't want this, but I realized I do."

"What if I do want this?"

"I'm not going to let you do this just because you feel obligated, Bradley," you tell him tiredly.

"No. I want this."

"How could that be?" You ask.

You feel him shift behind you, and you open your eyes to see what he is doing. Bradley is reaching to the bedside table where you see a huge binder sitting.

It is a binder that you know well. Bradley is a meticulous and organized person. He likes to refer to this binder as your Life Plan Binder. It was full of timelines, dates, references, and lists. Everything Bradley feels is necessary for y'all's life.

You realize that this one is different from the one that lives on his desk. It is slimmer, and the front doesn't have a picture of the two of you slotted in the cover that the other did.

"The LPB?" You ask him, confused.

His left hand makes itself at home again on your lower abdomen, while his right hand puts the binder on your lap. Finally, you read the cover where it says alternative plans in bold lettering.

"I'm sorry I left earlier, but I needed to get this." He mutters into your ear. Brad's tone is deeply apologetic. He flips the binder open, and there are labeled tabs. You fully realize this is a binder you have never seen before. You scan the tabs and freeze up in Bradley's hold when you see the one he is thumbing to.

It is towards the back, behind the different tabs, including restations, health, new cars, vacations, and retirement, is a tab that has a simple label. It's blue and just says, baby. Bradley flips to the tab, and you see the cover page of the section with the table of contents. In bold at the top of the page, you read Baby Bradshaw.

A sob that ends up coming out as a broken laugh ripping from your chest. The section contents was filled out with thoroughly thought out plans on you having children, from a section with important timelines, appointments to schedule, college savings plans, and a section with boys' and girls' names that he likes.

You bring one of your hands up to stifle the sobs that are bubbling in your chest. You hold your hand close over your mouth to try to hold back the sound. His fingers traced over the page and the table of contents for the section.

"What is this?" You finally ask him.

"It's my alternate life plan binder. For you know, if other things come up."

"Why do you have a Baby Bradshaw section?" You hesitantly ask. His hand is still warm against your stomach, and he flexes his fingers.

"Well, a while ago, I started thinking about kids," he trails off, and you start looking through the table of contents again. You see that the most robust and largest section is actually related to adoption. You feel your heart melt in your chest. A new bright feeling of hope blossoms looking at the care, time, and thought he has put into this. As he continues, "and well… You know how I am. I wanted to be prepared for that possibility."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I've been ruminating, and I don't know. Maybe I would have mentioned it at our next check-in. But I knew you don't…" Bradley doesn't finish his sentence, and you lose your mind a little bit.

You pull the large binger up into your hands and shift. You struggle and move until you turn in his grip. Your legs wrapped around Brad's waist. You want to see his face, which is easier in this position. The hand that had been placed on your stomach curls around your back and waist, steadying you against him.

"You changed your mind?" You ask him. You let your hands trace over his chest, settling on cupping his face. Then, staring into his eyes, you look for any trace of anger or deceit.

"You seem to also have changed your mind, baby," he takes the binder from where it was awkwardly pressed in between you two. It allows you to settle closer to him. Bradley sets the binder to the side, momentarily breaking eye contact to make sure none of the pages are creased. Your chests were almost flush together. You wrap your arms around his neck, and then he is the one to hold your face. His eyes reconnect with yours, and you once again feel like you are caught in them.

The intensity and openness in his gaze make your lips move faster than your brain to lay out the whole truth for him. "I don't think that I ever wanted to not have kids. I had just accepted it because I knew that I couldn't." You explain, not breaking eye contact. Bradley's thumb traces a slow circle against your cheek.

"I would never let you do this by yourself."

"I can't just throw a wrench like this in your life, Brad."

He immediately starts shaking his head in protest. "It's our life. I'm not going to lie to you and say that you didn't hurt my feelings. If you left me," Bradly heaves a heavy shaky breath. You briefly wonder if he is going to cry again. Then he continues to explain, "I would be broken… shattered. I feel even worse that you didn't want to talk to me or tell me."

You can tell how deeply you hurt him. Even though you knew what you were going to do was wrong, now that you and Bradley are talking about it. You know you need to try and explain your rationale no matter how messed up it was.

"At first, I wasn't sure how I felt. I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't do that before I knew how I felt. But then I kept thinking about all the times we talked about you not wanting kids. How you had so many good, valid reasons for feeling that way. I know you, Bradley. I knew that you would do the right thing as soon as I told you. But you don't need obligation ruling anymore of your life that it already does."

"So what if I was obligated? I agreed to be obligated to you for the rest of our lives when we got married. I want to be bound to you. I want to shoulder your burdens, just like you shoulder mine," Bradley says.

"A child is a lifelong burden for you to shoulder," you say. You need to know, need to be fully sure Brad understands.

"Do you think so low of me? Do you think I wouldn't love something that was a mix of you and me?"

"There are plenty of people in the world who don't love their children." You tell him, swallowing hard.

He lets out a long sigh, his breath fanning a bit over your face. "I want this baby. I want this baby with you. I want to be at every doctor's appointment. I want to know everything I've missed. I want family vacations where I can buy a Hawaiian shirt in three different sizes for all of us. I want little league games. I want a baby to sing to sleep. I want someone to put on top of the piano and sing to like my dad did. I want us to paint a nursery. I want Disney trips. I want to fight about curfew. I want to make breakfast on Saturdays and spend Sundays in the shop with football, restoring a beat-up first car. I want to make dad jokes. Fuck, I need to buy a pair of new balances."

Warmth fills you at his words. You let out a small laugh picturing Bradley as a stereotypical dad. How he wants all of that with you. That you won't do this alone like you have mentally been preparing yourself for since finding out. You run your fingers up and down his neck trailing it down his shoulder as far as you can reach before tracing back to his neck. A content sigh falls from his lips, and his eyes close, enjoying your gentle caresses.

"What are some of the names?" You break the silence after his confessions.

"I like Westley," he says with a small boyish smile. You bite back a grin at the name, playfully rolling your eyes.

"Oh, and is Buttercup on your list for girl names?" You ask him teasingly.

"Maybe," he says. You lean forward and peck his lips.

"You're not going to leave me," Bradley whispers with conviction. You know he is still coming down from the emotional roller coaster you just went through together. You also know Brad is going to need time to fully process this conversation and the change about to happen in your lives. However, you also know, without a doubt, that Bradley will be holding your hand at your next doctor's appointment.

"No, I'm not." You confirm and brush your lips over his softly.

"Stay with me forever," Bradley begs you in a voice a little too small for you to handle.

You hold the hazel gaze for a very, very long moment. You let him examine you, see the truth, and honestly bleeding in your gaze before you respond. What you want to say at first is: I love you. However, those words weren't quite right; they didn't seem to fully capture your intention and the emotion in your chest you felt for this man. So instead, you settle on the words you think will most closely allow him to understand. You brush your lips against him again, whispering your answer into them.

"As you wish, Bradley."

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw x y/n #hot 🥵#Coleys writing #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

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fumifooms · 5 months

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Marchil crumbs part 2

Part 1 here - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7

Unlike my other crumbs masterposts I'm gonna be doing the marchil one through different posts rather than reblogs because copy pasting my drafts would be hell. Are you surprised there are enough crumbs that this part got past 30 pics? Yeah me too ngl. Part 3 is already full too, ooh boy

Beginning vs end (chapter 23 vs chapter 96)~ Oh how far they have come

She sees him as dependable! For good reasons, despite him generally staying out of fights, but it's still nice to see her appreciating him.

More of him rushing to help her, and a bonus of the reverse:

Let's keep looking at early Chilchuck & Marcille for a bit. I'll likely repeat myself between parts of this masterpost but they really do stick together and are on the same wavelenght quite a fair bit.

I state my case once more: comrades in disgust. It's more than that too, though! Despite their differences, despite their relationship being strictly professional, despite him dreading her addition to the party at first, he truly does care about her and values her perspective on this.

Chilchuck above is straight up implying that Marcille is the moral compass of the party, and seemingly appreciates that about her.

In part 1, I mentioned how they do argue, but always talk it out and it never turns into resentment between them, but I didn't show examples. Now is the time! Let's see how they hash things out.

She's not offput by his brash demeanor and is very open to explaining. They don't typically tend to budge on the issues they debate, but they do have an earnest conversation with each other and the other doesn't fall in their esteem for it.

The biggest disagreements they've had is definitely Marcille using dark magic and the bicorn chapter, which was a both-way moment of tension between them. It was when she hassled him about a sensitive topic (his wife) and when he lied to her that he had cheated on his wife, because of that during the chapter Marcille is very cold towards him (but even then rushes to his aid and is worried for him when hurt etc etc), until he later opens up andthey have agoodlong good-natured chat about it, by the end they're both back to normal and laughing together. It's definitely the most Marcille & Chilchuck centric chapter out there, at this point give it a reread though we're running a tight ship here and it's 30 pics max.

Ok. Tangent over, back to how even though there are disagreements they don't fall in each other's esteem. Maybe it's more that they trust each other to have common sense really, which is running rare in these parts, but... When they were apprehended by Shuro’s party, Chilchuck isn’t worried about leaving Marcille by herself, unlike with Senshi and Laios. And this wasn’t a decision without weight either, because this is JUST after she has used dark magic, but her letting that information slip and landing them into trouble doesn’t even occur to him. For a good reason since Laios ends up being the one to do just that... It's as much as a confirmation as we can get that he thinks she has the most common sense and social skills out of the party

And speaking of putting stock in others: They strategize together and appreciate each other’s input very often! Part 1 already had some but here some more:

I do like how he gets to manhandle her after he gets manhandled himself so often lol. There’s also smth to be said about him having seen her as an halfling, since his type is blonde halfling women… Bonus of Marcille being the very contrary of enamored with Chilchuck's changeling form:

----

She is the best wingman. Has nothing but best of intentions. She wants to know her friends aka him better!! "I’ll invite you guys to meet my family" from Chilchuck means the world and more, they’re def not just coworkers anymore and man. MAN!!! Chil breaching that bridge for her. Him doing this because he knows she really wants that, AND blushing madly... If you wanna go the extra delulu mile it's kinda like he's opening his family up to her and fully letting her in, and may I add inviting her into his family perhaps even like something resembling a proposal after which she showers him in flowers and lover's gifts and-

Tfw you need to make sure your friend doesn’t get an inflated price/you make sure your girl gets only the best. This comic means they went shopping together btw, despite how he dislikes waiting after people ♡

Nothing to say about these they're just funny:

He do be keeping an eye and an ear out for her

Part 3 is here!

With juicy tidbits such as more of Chilchuck drooling over blond hair and them interacting across a table in the golden kingdom. Very fun very fun

#dungeon meshi #marcille donato #chilchuck tims #marchil #relationship analysis #sorry that my very soon was like a month but in my defense i was writing fics instead #marchil crumbs masterpost #shipping crumbs

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romana-after-dark · 1 year

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The Wrong Way: Chapter 8

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Tommy Miller x reader (secondary)

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, and both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

I wanna add we're really heavy on the birth/pregnancy, forced birth, choking, domestic violence, threats of hanging and murder. Can't say I didn't warning yuh (unless i missed a warning of course. then please let me know so i cant edit ASAP) Like this is a rough chapter, a lot of violence to a pregnant woman. but I wanna say right now...

The baby will not be harmed in anyway. Baby will be born healthy, and live and have a good life in both the main ending and alt ending.

5k words (sorry not sorry lol)

Also to clarify a few things I guess i didn't make clear enough in previous chapters!

Joel only 'guessed' that Tommy and LO slept together. He had suspicions but thought he could trust Tommy and his 'girlfriend'. When LO rushed to stop Joel from hurting Tommy, that was his 'evidence'. Joel was beating Tommy because he found out about Maria.

Joel only heard part of the conversation between Zach and Little One. Nick said way back in chapter 3 the wall are thinner than she thinks. He didn't know Lorenzo had any part of it, and because LO didn't rat him out, he never will.

Thats my bad for not being clear!

Can you catch the Superstore homage? (aka i rewatched two episodes just to take it line for line lol)

***************

Month 3

No one warned you about morning sickness.

You knew fuck all about sex before you came to Joel’s, just a thing or two from your friend back at the ranch and how to get a man off with your mouth or hands, but pregnancy and birth was next to nothing. You didn’t even know how pregnancy happened really, other than a penis in a vagina until you asked Tommy early on if you were going to get pregnant. After a very uncomfortable talk for both of you, Tommy explained that Joel told him he pulls out, so you should be good… Lorenzo said you can still get pregnant that way, but thinking back to the night Joel almost killed Tommy and you… Joel finished inside… the timing added up.

Pregnancy and birth were entirely unknown to you, and you wished someone would just give you a heads up. Joel had a daughter and no doubt had been through at least once pregnancy, and Lorenzo had mentioned 4 of his 6 older sisters got pregnant before leaving the house… something about no sex education, men too old for them, and their religion not believing in birth control or abortion… but you didn’t know what half those words meant, and after Lorenzo mercilessly made fun of you for days about not knowing Joel’s song for you was actually a very famous song, you didn’t dare ask him about the words, or anything with pregnancy. You didn’t want to ask Joel either, not wanting to give away how terrified you were, not wanting him to think you didn’t want to… But you did! You did want this baby, you reminded yourself again and again and again, because Joel was good to you, Joel took care of you, Joel would care for this baby too. You’d be bound to him, and he’d never get tired of you this way, and he wouldn’t hurt the mother of his child, right?

The birth was something you tried not to think about.

So here you were, puking your gut out before you even had breakfast and Joel held your hair back.

“Shhh, shhhhhhh” he coo’d and you heaved, yellow bile and acid coming up from inside you since the little food in your stomach from dinner had been thrown up 5 minuets ago.

With a final spit into the toilet, you sink back and Joel wipes your mouth for you. “I think that’s it.” You mutter, and Joel carries you into your shared bedroom, laying you down with the care of an infant before kissing your forehead.

“Don’t worry about breakfast, little one. I don’t need anything this morning.” He says before kissing your cheek. But you were worrying about breakfast, because you wanted it… but the only way you’d be getting food is if you made it. Tommy wasn’t here to care for you anymore. “I’ll be gone until the evening, what's for dinner?”

The thought of cooking, the thought of raw meats and the strong smells of spices made you want to vomit again. “I dunno…”

“I think a few of them chickens is ready to be butchered, you ever made chicken parmesan? We got that cheese I brought back yesterday, you could make something like that.”

You groan a bit, exhausted and tired despite being only 3 months in. You didn’t sleep at all last night, nightmares of the past and the future plaguing you. He knew that you didn’t sleep, you had told him… “Joel I can’t, the butchering, I feel so-”

“I’ll make Lorenzo do it.” He promises. “Chicken parmesan it is then?” He decided for you. What he didn’t understand is it wasn’t just butchering a few chickens. To make chicken parm you need chicken breasts, not the rest of it. You didn’t waste meat, so Lorenzo kills (you could do it on a normal day, but not with your heightened smell) then you pluck, clean, Lorenzo butchers, then you have to separate the different parts and put them into hygienic storage and take them to the freezer locker, then thoroughly clean yourself, all the tools and surfaces (and Lorenzo) to prevent illness. It would take hours. But Joel didn’t see that, he only ever saw the food at the end of his day.

“Okay” You agree reluctantly, and he begins kissing your neck and groping you, no doubt wanting a quicky before a long day of unspeakable violence. “Joel, please, I don’t feel good.” You beg him not to, but you learned in the past that this never got far.

His morning breath wasn’t helping anything as he tugged down your shorts. “I’ll be quick.”

You knew what that meant. Joel slid into you with no prep, no lubrication, and it burned. The steady rocking was the last thing you needed right now, and with his head buried in your neck, you covered your mouth as the nausea took over. You threw up, but like everything the last several months, you just swallowed it down again to deal with when Joel was gone. When he came inside (wasn’t he worried about you getting pregnant again?) you quickly pull up your pants and run to the bathroom, pushing past Lorenzo no doubt on his way to babysitting duties with you.

As he watched you run past and heard the sounds of throwing up, Lorenzo caught Joel’s arm as he brushed past. “Peppermint or ginger. Find it, whatever form it's in. Oils, drops, whatever. If you can find the leaves or the root we can make it into a tea. Just find it, it’ll help her nausea.”

Month 4

“Okay Lorenzo, I got a question for you, and you can’t make fun of me.” You say as you cook, the swell of your belly beginning to show now.

“No guarantees.” He says, sitting his drink. How did he find so much alcohol?

“Fine. Okay… when Joel and I have sex-”

He visibly cringed. “Since when do we talk about our sex lives?”

“Renzo.”

“Fine, go on. But remember I’m not exactly an expert on female anatomy.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay. Well I told you he always pulls out right? Um… ever since I told him im pregnant… he doesn’t.”

Lorenzo waits for you to continue, but you don’t. You think that’s it. “What the problem?”

You continue to avoid looking at him, stirring the soup. “Well.. what if I get pregnant again?”

He stares at you like he’s trying to make sense of your question before the recognition sets in. “OH!” But before he explains what he means… his face shifts… theres something sad in there, a hint of pain in his eyes you only saw once, the face he had as he looked at you in disgust while Joel carried you from the bedroom to the bath while you were covered head to toe in spit and cum and period blood… was it pity? “Jesus kid… No one really taught you anything, did they?”

“C’mon, just tell me.”

Scrubbing his face, he sighed. “No, you can’t get pregnant while your already pregnant.”

Oh. “Wait… really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Ah. Okay then.”

There was a long, long silence before he spoke again. “If you got any other question about, like… pregnancy and birth… I can try and answer.”

Joel had been trying to find a doctor, a midwife, something for you… but it was slim pickings in Wyoming.

Five minuets later, you were squealing, covering your ears, but laughing. “Ew! What the hell is a mucus plug! You know what, I don’t wanna-”

“IT’S A PLUG FULL OF MUCUS IN YOUR VAGINA WHAT DO YOU THINK IT IS?!?!” He yells loud enough to get past your attempt at blocking your ears.

“NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH!!! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” But you still could.

“Honestly in the last month or two all kinds of weird things are gonna come out of you including but not limited to a very slimey and weird looking baby.”

You gasp, feigning indignance. “How dare you insult my unborn child!”

“It ain’t personal, sweetheart. All babies look ugly as fuck as newborns. Now, let’s get back to the gritty details.”

With a squeal, you try to run away. “No! I know enough!” But you’re laughing. It felt like you were messing around with Zach back in your childhood home.

“My sister Elaina lost like 4 teeth.”

“AAAHHHHH!”

Month 5

Joel had finally found a midwife of sorts. Well, technically, Jack did, as it was his cousin. Maura had been a nurse in the birthing wing a short time before everything went to shit and had been helping women deliver babies ever since. Initially, she told Jack to keep his mouth shut. She hated Joel and didn’t want a thing to do with him, but when no one else showed up and you were in your 5th month, she relented, purely for the sake of the innocent kidnapped girl.

“Put the fucking gun away, Joel.” She said as she entered your room, grabbing the barrel in Joel’s hands and pointing it to the floor. “Point that shit at me again and I’m not helping your child bride.” She stared him down, head tilted up only slightly to reach his eyes. If she was intimidated by Joel, she wouldn’t

Joel glared at her, but he didn’t have many options. “If you hurt her-”

“From what I hear, you’re doing enough of that yourself. Now, you stand up against the wall and watch if you want to, but don’t interfere, and do not try to intimidate me, understood?”

You watched in awe as she stood her ground… It had been months before you had done anything of the sort against Joel, only standing up to him when Tommy’s life was in danger. Joel gave a curt nod and she turn to approach where you lay, sat up against some pillows.

A gentle smile was on her face, but it was clear she was here for business. Still, her confidence and certainty put you at ease.

“My name’s Maura, I’ll be helping deliver this baby.” She was beautiful, with long black hair and a light smattering of freckles on her face, but got straight to the point. It was clear she knew what she was doing, asking you questions you hadn’t even thought of yet and examining you. When she was done, she stood up, looking at you, not Joel. “It seems despite the circumstances-”

Joel tried to interrupt. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean”

But Maura ignored him, keeping your attention with her bright brown eyes. “Despite the circumstances, everything appears to be progressing naturally, theres no cause for concern as of right now. But you need to keep things low stress.” It was then she turned to glare at Joel, to emphasize her point.

Maura said she’d be staying near-by and Joel was paying her a hefty price for her services. When you’d go into labor, Joel was to send a man on horse to fetch her, preferably Jack, but she warned she would armed, and she’d be there shortly.

That night, Joel held you close as you discussed baby names.

“How about Loretta? Like that singer you liked?”

Joel hums, none commital. “I always liked Dorothy, we could call her Dolly as a nickname. I know you like Dolly Parton” Joel had been teaching you about old country music, and you certainly had a few favorites. Not knowing many women in general, your pool of girl names was not strong so you drew from singers he’d mentioned.

You scrunch up your nose a bit at that. “I like Dolly, I don’t like Dorothy.”

“It was my grandmas name, I’d really like to name our daughter after her.” His voice had that tone to it, the one that left little room to argue, but you tried to push past Dorothy.

“Maybe June? Like June Carter?” You knew how particle he was to Johnny Cash, but also... that was the name of the only friend you had before Tommy.

“That’s beautiful, little one, June it is.” He smiles into your skin, and you think you’ve won, when he says. “Dorothy June.”

He had already decided, and there was no real option to argue or change his mind. You’d just call her Dolly, then.

You had one thing you really, really wanted for boy name, and you desperately hoped you could get it, but you couldn’t tell him why. You didn’t want any more kids so this was your only shot. You hadn’t even wanted this one, but as your stomach swelled with life, motherly love came with it and you decided you’d make the best of the situation. The child inside you was your number one priority. “Okay, boys? I really like Caleab… It’s my favorite boy name…” You didn’t have to tell him that was Zach’s middle name.

“I like it, bebita.”

You got what you wanted. You knew Joel was hoping for a girl, so you figured he was less particular on the boy name.

“Got any ideas for the middle name?” You ask him.

“Nothing in mind, really. I’m open…” He kisses your neck. “Anything you want?”

You keep quiet. The name you wanted… he’d never go for.

Joel pulled you closer, nuzzling his face against you as he whispered. “Ah. I see.” You freeze. Tommy hadn’t been so much as alluded to since he barely made it out alive and you thought for sure Joel would have a fit, and you began to prepare yourself to feel a hand wrapped around your throat… But he tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed into your locks as he settled down for bed. “Caleb Thomas”

Month 6

Lorenzo was getting on your fucking nerves today, and you were about to fling the frying pan, bubbling grease and all, at his face.

“Will you shut up?”

“No, I’m not going to shut up because you are being fucking stupid!” Instead of his usual spot sitting at the kitchen table, he’s standing, arms crossed, in the doorway as you tried to get diner done. “I told you the first day, you are a dumb. Bitch.” he was drunk, three sheets to the wind and absolutely no filter.

“You have no fucking idea what I am! I am trying to fucking survive, Lorenzo, I am trying to keep myself and this baby-”

“You are playing housewife to a serial murder and a rapist!” He yells at you, clearly frustrated. “You are rewarding all the bad things he’s ever done you just give positive reinforcement-”

“Don’t fucking blame me! I’m not reinforcing the bad, I’m reinforcing the good!” You storm over to him, glaring Lorenzo down. “You have no fucking idea how bad things were! I used to dream about killing myself, about dying, about Joel finally snapping and doing it! I am doing the best in the conditions I have!”

“You could have left! You could have left with Zach and gone off with him for fucks sake!”

With a burst of anger you didn’t know was even in you anymore, you shove him, hard, causing the drunk to fall over. “You wanna know what he did last time I tried to run? He caught me within 10 minuets, dragged me back and chained me to this table-” You point at the table that you and Joel sit at most evenings now for diner. “And raped me in front of everyone, Lorenzo! Then he branded me and left me to be gang raped by all your little buddies here! And no one could stop him, not even Tommy! All Tommy could do is stand by and watch, and unchain me after Joel left before anyone could do anything more!”

Lorenzo was not deterred. “That’s my fucking point!”

“If I leave and he catches me, I am dead!”

Scoffing, Lorenzo rolls his eyes from where he’s slumped against the floor. “Yeah, that’s why”

Unsure how much more you can take from him, you motion him to continue.

“You just don’t wanna admit you fell in love with your rapist.”

That was enough. You begin to walk away from him, but he follows after you.

“What about when you give birth, huh? What kind of father is he going to be? Are you going to stand by while he beats your kids?”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, still walking away.

“And what if you have a daughter? You just gonna let him molest her like your dad-”

You wipe around so fast you don’t even have time to blink. “No, Joel isn’t like that.”

Lorenzo laughs at you, cruel and loud. “You are 20 years younger than him, he raped you! You really think he’s above-”

“YES! He will not hurt her like that!”

“And if you have a son? Do you really wanna raise a man like Joel? The kind of man who beats and rapes innocent girls?”

Tears prickle at your eyes now, a terrible tightness in your chest bubbling with stomach bile. “N-no, that’s not gonna happen, I won’t let-”

“Oh, because you’ve had so much choice the last year, havn’t you. Sooooo much control.”

“I won’t.” You shake your head vigorously. “I won’t let anything happen to my baby, Joel won’t hurt them.”

“So, say he doesn't. You really gonna raise a kid here? Half the men here would’ve raped you, given the chance! You really think your child is safe here?”

You can’t argue with him when he’s right. But he doesn’t get it. Joel is good now, Joel protects you, Joel will protect the baby… Joel is gentle now… soft, kind… he thinks of you, he sings you songs… he plays music for you, he’ll be a good dad… You’ll be okay…

You shut down, going into autopilot. You don’t look at Lorenzo as you walk back to the kitchen to finish frying the chicken. Joel would be home soon.

Month 7

“JACK! GET MAURA!” Joel shouts as you groan on the bed, the tight contractions hurting.

“Joel, it hurts!” You call for him, and in a flash Joel is at your bedside, letting you squeeze his hand.

“I know, little one, I know…” He pets your hair, having flashbacks to Sarah’s birth…. He wanted another girl so bad, but god, he just wanted a healthy baby and for his girl to make it out alive. Birth was dangerous in modern medicine, nonetheless a post-apocalyptic shitstorm.

Lorenzo stood in the doorway, biting his nails. “You’re not due for another 8 weeks!”

Grunting through the pain, you let a rare bout of sarcasm slip. “Oh yeah, that’s right, never mind.”

“Could be false labor, you know? That’s called Braxton-Hicks contractions?” Lorenzo looked more nervous than you.

Joel ignored him. “It’s gonna be okay, Maura’s on her way and I think even out here 32 weeks is gonna be okay.” Joel wasn’t entirely sure about his own words. 32 weeks meant a premature baby, and pre-mature usually meant NICU… but there was no NICU to go to… if the babies lungs were under developed or anything like that, there were no options.

Lorenzo was chewing through his nails enough to draw blood. “Or maybe it’s Braxton-Hicks”

At that, Joel finally acknowledges Lorenzo. “Okay, we get it, you know the term Braxton-Hicks, we’re all very impressed.”

“AHHHHHHH” You yell, wishing to get there was something for the pain.

Lorenzo wouldn’t shut up. “Okay, contractions are getting longer, that means your in active labor?”

“Her water hasn’t broke yet!”

“Is she dilated?”

“Does it look like her pants are off to you?”

“Well check!”

“I don’t know how to tell! Weren’t you bragging last month you helped your sister give birth in a Walmart?”

“That doesn’t mean I know how to check if she’s dilated!”

“You know more than me!”

“I’m not sticking my fucking face between legs!”

“Oh, because you’re gay you’re suddenly scared of vagina’s?”

“What are you talking about?”

“So you’d rather let her just die?”

“DIE? Joel she’s not gonna die because I’m not looking at her fucking cu-”

“GUYS” you shout, causing both to turn and look at you. “The contractions stopped.”

There’s a moment of silence before Lorenzo speaks. “Oh. Huh. That’s uhhh… Braxton-Hicks I guess. False labor.”

As Joel kissed you that night, sex was the last thing you wanted, but you knew there was no point in fighting it.

Joel sucked on your throat, already bruised with dark marks from the night before, now sore and aching with new licks and bites, his hands roaming to expanse of skin presented before him. Gripping, feeling, pinching, tugging, some things felt good, some hurt, but that didn’t matter. He’d get you off, he always did, at night anyway, but you knew sometimes he just liked to feel you, feel what he owned. The pain is mine. Your cries are mine, your cunt is mine. And if you bleed? Your blood is mine.

Your belly round and swollen with child, he could not hardly keep his hand off it, every time his hand traveled to explore, it quickly found itself returning to its home, never wanting to miss a kick. He slithered down, nestling his face between your legs and devouring your pussy the way he did your neck, the way he did every piece of you, body and soul and until there was nothing left but this subservient version of you, weak and obedient to his hands. He lapped you up, skilled tongue exploring through your folds only pausing to nibble at the soft skin of your thighs or kiss the round stomach above him. He felt extra possessive today, a desperate, anxious way about him as he devoured you so hungrily you wondered if he intended to eat you, swallow you whole to keep you with him forever; a communion, and you were the eucharist, a matrimony of cannibalism.

You wanted to tug at his hair, you wanted to entangle yourself in him but your belly was in the way, so you simply laid back and enjoyed as he tongue fucked you, prodding at your entrance, his hands on the globe where your child waits to be born.

“Fuck, Joel, need you, need to cum, please.”

You beg for him, plead, and he devours. Joel knows you love when his perfect, plus lips such at your mound and your clit with long fingers fingering into you, and you yelp when they curl up and hit that spot inside you. “Keep moaning, little one, let me hear you.”

You obliged. Sometimes you wondered how sick everyone in the house was of hearing you, but they weren’t the ones you needed to please; pleasing Joel kept you alive.

“I need you inside me, please” Nudging him with your leg as you cry for his cock. “Joel, I gotta have you inside me, I need to cum on your cock, please? Please, Joel-”

A wet, sloppy sound as he detached from you, and his eyes looked just as hungry as he acted while he crawled up. “You beg so pretty, little one, such a pretty little cock whore.”

But you didn’t have time for his talking, you needed him inside you, now; the hormones of the pregnancy had a mind of their own. You take a chance and push him down, watching Joel smile as you straddle his waist. “God, I just- just need you.”

“The take me, little one, take me”

You cry out as you sink down onto him, feeling your cunt split on him. “Fuuuck!” Sobbing, you take him fully and begin to fuck yourself on him.

“Just like that, pretty girl, fuck, taking me so well, gonna have you all stretched out to have this baby, huh? Gonna give me a child, little girl? A baby of our own? Fuck, fuck you look so pretty like this, swollen with my child, stretching your stomach as I stretch your cunt, fucking perfect, my perfect wife.”

Wife.

Wife?!

You knew Joel was delusional… but fuck, Lorenzo was right… you were playing house wife. Joel thought of you as his wife…

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, again, and again, keep you constantly knocked up, make our happy little family, you and me and a dozen little kids running around, FUCK, our family, our family.”

You continued the pace, you couldn’t falter, you couldn’t slow down, you couldn’t hesitate; you couldn’t give any sort of reason for him to think you didn’t want this…

But it suddenly struck you

You were trapped. Joel trapped you with a baby, knowing you’d need him to protect it, knowing you’d never leave your child… and now he was going to keep you pregnant. You could never leave with 5,6,7 kids, it would be impossible.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my cock little one, just little that…” Joel reached out to touch you, roughly manhandling your tits that were swollen and engorged.

You begin to cry, but that wouldn’t give away anything for Joel; he fucking loved that shit.

One hand on your breast, one on your clit. “Cry on my cock, baby girl, cry when you cum.”

You did, you sobbed as you came, your body betraying the horrors you felt at his hands.

Month 8

“Hey Joel? Can I talk to you about something?”

You had to do it. You had to. And it had to be now. You two had fucked less than half an hour ago and he was currently eating your food, humming contently. He was always lovey-dovey after sex, and was always much happier after food… The pair didn’t line up often, so now was your chance.

“What’s on your mind, little one? Nervous about being a mother? You’ll be a great mom; I just know it.” He smiled at you with puppy dog eyes, looking up from his plate, and you couldn’t help smiling back, not when he showered you with compliments.

“Well… you’ve said before you wanted lots of kids… but we… well this little baby was an accident.”

“A miracle, not an accident.” Joel corrected you. You didn’t see how conceiving a child the night he was threatening to blow your brains onto a wall for sleeping with his brother if you didn’t shoot said-baby’s uncle was a miracle… but you digress

“Right. Well… we never really talked about more kids… and although I’m over the moon about this baby, I did initially not want to have it.” Joel’s face began to darken, but you powered through. “Maybe we could see how we feel about one kid after a few years before thinking about-”

Joel slammed down his silverware. “What are you trying to say.”

But you freeze. This was a bad idea, you needed to placate immediately, you needed to calm him down. “N-nothing, Joel, just thinking out loud.”

He stood up, a deadly, blank stare on his face, so far removed from the adoration as he bestowed kisses on your ever-growing belly. Joel walked around the table, standing behind you and placing firm hands on your shaking shoulders, leaning into your ear.

“You say’n you don’t want my kids? Don’t wanna be their mama? You don’t wanna be my wife?”

“No, no that’s not-” But you don’t get a chance to finish, his hand is wrapped around your throat and insane strength pulling you up and out of the chair, the wooden furniture toppled to the side in a loud clatter. He slams the back of your head against the drywall, you’re toes barely touch the ground; struggling to breath, you claw at his hand, but he doesn’t even blink.

The panic begins to set it.

“YOU ARE NOT IN CHARGE! YOU DO NOT GET TO MAKE CHOICES!” He screams, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as a few men hesitantly gather, like vultures waiting on the next piece of deadmeat. You couldn’t see who, but it didn’t matter. Even the good ones couldn’t intervene.

Joel’s face was suddenly right in front of yours. “Everything you have, any freedom, any luxuries, any power you think you have is because I have given it to you.” Black spots appeared, your vision blurring, sinking into the unknown and god, did it feel sweet. Was it finally over? “I bought you, I own you, you have no rights! You are nothing! You are nothing but a toy for me to play with, a breeding bitch and you should be so lucky to sit at my table!”

He let go, but as you gasped for breath, Joel yanked at your hair and patched you across the room, not letting go of his grasp on you as you flung into the counter. What he didn’t know, what he could never understand was how the handle of the draw rammed into the brand on your side. Suddenly, all sense, all rational went out the window, and you were violently thrust back to last year as he burned his initials into your skin. The flashbacks were triggered, and the result was nothing short of hysteria. You cry out for the only person who would step in.

“TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMYYYY” You scream, the fact Tommy was miles away didn’t matter, nor did the fact this would only anger Joel more. This didn’t matter; you wanted him, no one but him, and all sense was knocked out of you.

Joel pulls you up by your hair and slaps you hard enough that you taste blood and screams at you to not say Tommy’s name, but you can’t stop, you scream and scream and scream for him to come save you and your baby, the precious little life inside you that has never done anything wrong.

You fight and claw and panic, hysterics drowning out the one or two voices telling Joel to stop; who they belonged to, you couldn’t say.

Joel stopped listening, and the voices grow louder as Joel drags you, kicking and screaming, outside; rope and a chair in his hand, your hair in the other, and Joel walked with long strides to a tree outside.

****************

YEEEEEEESSSSHHHHHHHHHHH Cliiiiiff hanger, hanging from a cliiiiiiffff thats why he's caaaaallled, Cliff Hangers!

Who else used to watch Inbetween The Lions? Anyway.

Who wanna guess what happens!

Only two chapters left!

For the sake of credit, if you didn't find the superstore reference or dont watch the show, most of the dialogue between Joel and Lorenzo and LO was between Amy and Jonah from two birth related episodes of superstore

Also, Maura is named after my dear dear friend @maura-honey who although is not generally a fanfiction girlie, made a tumblr so she could read, like and reblog this series and always sends me such lovely messages <3

Reblogs are the best way to spread and support, but comments mean the world. I know not everyone likes to share dark content on their blog, but even a kind anon is such support!

for those who voted you dont like or hate or Lorenzo, I hope that doesn't mean you hate him as n he's a bad character. I got a comment on AO3 that said "i cant tell if i like lorenzo or not, but i like him in the story" which makes sense! His victim blaming is really fucking shitty.

no poll today, sorry!

MoonBanana said they think LO copes by lying to herself until she beleives it, what do y'all think? is she as delusional as joel?

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy

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ash5monster01 · 23 days

Text

Goes On Epilogue

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

word count: 3.3k

Fifteen ←→ Bonus

Masterlist

Ridge Academy, NY

4/24/60

Being at Welton was exactly what Charlie needed. He stayed there up until Wednesday when he finally got tired of crashing on the dorm floor and eating leftovers stolen from the dining hall. One thing he didn’t miss was Hellton Hash. So he packed his things and gave all his friends tighter hugs before taking the long trek back to Ridge where he had the rest of break to think about everything that had happened. The time to figure out exactly what he needed to say when he saw Evelyn again.

The first few nights back with Nate were weird. Especially when Nate filled him in about Evelyn finding out about his crush. Nate assured him she made no mention of reciprocating the same feelings but Charlie was just glad she knew. In a way she deserved too, even if they were together now. That’s not the kind of thing you go your whole life without knowing. Especially when it’s one of your best friends that you’ve known forever. If she did reciprocate any feelings for him he would honestly understand. They had been there for each other longer.

When Sunday rolls around he’s able to convince Violet to leave their dorm room, let Charlie wait in plain sight for Evelyn’s return. Evelyn couldn’t avoid him if he was in the one place she needed to go and never expected him to be. So he sat against the soft pillows of her bed, reminiscing on the very first time he laid against them, wishing he had his legs tangled with her own. Patiently waiting and desperate to see his girl after all this time. He needed a hug whether she was still mad at him or not.

It’s when he’s watching a particular cloud of smoke from his cigarette drift towards the open window does he begin to hear the turn of the lock on the door. He sits up quickly, eyes cast on the dark oak as he hopes it’s finally her coming back. Of all the times he pictured this conversation this week he did not imagine how fast his heart would be thrumming in his chest. The anticipation of finally getting to see her after all this time. He hated that he couldn’t call her and hear her voice. Ever since he started at Ridge he hadn’t gone that long without talking to her.

“Charlie?” she’s too confused to be mad, but only for a second, because her curious brows turn upward sharply as she remembers fairly quickly her anger towards him. Charlie ignores it and smiles anyway, watching as she closes herself into the room.

“How was break?” he tries and she rolls her eyes, ignoring him as she lifts her duffel bag to the top of her desk and unzips it so she can unpack. “What, not good?”

“I thought you didn’t smoke” is all she says and Charlie glances at the filter in his hand, the end glowing red and he sighs before reaching and snuffing it out on the window sill.

“I don’t but I was able to recover my stash and you’d be surprised how nerve wracking it was waiting for you” he says and Evelyn can’t help but look at him and see if he was lying. He had only mentioned the stash once and that could only mean he went to Welton while she was gone.

“You went back?” she whispers, torn on prying further into the subject or still being angry with him.

“Yeah, I needed to figure out some things and I really needed to see my friends” he tells her and her hands that were unpacking slowly begin to stop as she gives him all her attention.

“Oh, that’s nice” is all she can bring herself to say and Charlie chuckles, moving to jump off her bed and approach her. She can’t help but admire how handsome he looks in his white t-shirt and black sweatpants. It’s clear he’s been waiting for her since breakfast and her heart soars at the thought.

“It was, especially because the guys helped me realize what an idiot I was” he says with amusement dancing in his eyes and Evelyn can’t help the small laugh that leaves her as he says this.

“You are an idiot” she confirms, unable to stop her hands from reaching out and wrapping around his waist. Charlie accepts the embrace, needing it just as much as her.

“I know, which I why I should’ve told you everything. It’s just, I kept looking at this school like it was some prison. Somewhere I had to serve out a sentence until I got back to my real life, and because of that, I looked at all you and your friends like people who didn’t matter” with each word her grip on him loosens, taking a step back and Charlie lets her because he knows these words hurt.

“I know now that it isn’t true. I was just so heartbroken and hurt by the world that I couldn’t tell you guys had good intentions. That you actually cared about me. I kept thinking, how could these people who have only known me for a few months, and know nothing about me, ever understand? Thing was I didn’t even let any of you try and that was my mistake. Time is meaningless when it comes to loving someone, hell I should know because it didn’t stop me from loving you” Charlie freezes as the words fly out of his mouth and she gapes back at him, like every sentence he says is being seared into her skin.

“You love me?” Evelyn mutters, mind reeling and heart pounding against her ribs. The whiplash of going from feeling unwanted to loved could do that to a person.

“Well yeah and it scared the shit out of me because the last time I loved a person like this they died” Charlie answers and Evelyn can’t help the smile that appears on her face. Much to Charlie’s surprise she eliminates the distance between them again and presses a quick kiss to his lips.

“Will you tell me?” she asks after pulling away, eyelashes fluttering against the tops of her cheeks and Charlie nods even though the thought of even recalling the events still stings.

“Yeah, I want too” he tells her and she can tell for the first time in the entirety of ever knowing him he’s being 100% honest with her. So she leads him to the bed, tugging him in with her as she gets comfortable to hear the whole story.

Which she does. Charlie doesn’t leave anything out. Telling her all about how Neil and him met as kids and were inseparable ever since. He told her everything from Keating and his wild teaching tactics and how he told them about the Dead Poets Society. Explained how they made their own Dead Poets Society and how they all started to feel like they could conquer the whole world. Then he told her about Neil lying about the play and his Dad finding out. How Neil did it anyway and Mr. Perry took him home that night. How he woke at 2am with a call from Mrs. Perry saying he was gone. How he had to go to each and everyone of of his friends rooms and repeat it over and over despite it not sinking in yet. How numb he was while he watched Todd run and curse at the sky.

He explained how he was so full of feelings and had no idea where to put them. That he became angry, bitter, began to lash out. How all of this led him to punching Cameron for throwing Keating under the bus in order to save his own ass. How he refused to sign the paper and they booted him out of the school until he felt nothing at all. He didn’t even get any comfort from his parents because of how angry they were with him and then he ended up here before he could ever come to terms with what happened to him. That was why he was so closed off and why he didn’t want to get to know anyone here. Evelyn was persistent though and somehow that had saved him. She stayed silent for it all.

“Charlie, I’m so sorry” she says when he’s finally done, tears seeping out of her eyes because she had never truly heard of anything that tragic and all this time he was holding all that in.

“It’s okay, he’s free now right?” he gives his own teary eyed smile back and Evelyn can’t help the hiccup of a cry she lets out as she hugs him close.

“You still didn’t deserve to go through all of that” she says and Charlie sighs, hand reaching to run through her long brunette hair.

“Yeah but now I have you and all my new friends. So I’ll make it through, don’t you worry” he says and that earns him another sweet kiss from the girl against him. When she pulls away he smiles at her, hand reaching up to brush her tears away.

“Thank you for telling me, I didn’t mean to be so harsh the last time we spoke. I was just so angry and Nate knew just the right button to push” she says with the soft shake of her head, looking away as she settles into the humiliation of how she had treated him.

“It’s okay, you had every right to be upset. I wasn’t thinking straight about us or anything” he tells her, hand guiding under her chin and lifting her gaze back to him. The contentment of this moment was something he had been waiting for a long time. He was glad she was no longer mad and that she finally knew everything. He just couldn’t enjoy it, not quite yet. “But there is one thing”

“What?” she questions, eyebrows furrowed and trying to determine what else Charlie could possibly have to say.

“You should talk to Nate though, it won’t feel right until you settle things between you” this was not what she had expected him to say and even though she had forgiven Charlie she wasn’t sure she was ready to forgive him.

“I don’t have anything to say to him” she says, stubborn as always, and trying to hold her ground, but Charlie sees the falter. The longing for her best friend and wanting it to go back to the way it was.

“Yes you do, which is why he’s all alone in our room right now waiting for you. He has some things to say too” Evelyn hates how suffocating this feels but she knows Charlie is right. She knows this isn’t something she can just ignore so she stands with a groan anyway.

“I’ll go on one condition” she tells him, finger pointed and stern eyes shining into his own. Charlie grins in amusement, enjoying the sight of the very mousy girl trying to stick her ground.

“Anything” he agrees, hands reaching up to lay leisurely behind his head but she continues to stare him down.

“You have to unpack for me and stay in here tonight” Charlie snorts at the request, thinking it would’ve been something he would hate but he didn’t mind one bit. Even if he got caught.

“That’s it. It’s a deal princess” he chuckles and she shakes her head, moving to her desk where she had started removing piles of clothes.

“My underwear drawer is off limits” she tells him and Charlie bellows with laughter, watching as she grabs her unmentionables and tosses them into the top drawer of her dresser. Slamming it shut for extra effect.

“Agh, you’ve broke my heart” he teases, voice dripping of sarcasm as he drops a hand to his heart. Putting on a show and she just glares before glancing at the door.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this” she says with the shake of her head before starting towards the door.

“Wait” Charlie says and she turns to see him gesturing her towards him. She obeys and he’s quick to wrap her in a deep kiss, tongue softly gliding against her own, and breaking apart just as fast.

“Good luck” he tells her and she’s gaping back at him, shocked and breathless, and a little annoyed he gave her a taste of something she now has to wait for.

“You’re so annoying” she tells him and he just laughs, snuggling up in her bed, hand interlaced with her own.

“Maybe, I just wanted to make sure you remembered how good I kiss while Nate tells you all about loving you” he jokes and she just rolls her eyes, grinning right back at him as she lets go of his hand and starts for the door. He matches that smile as she slips out and starts the trek to the boys dorm.

The closer she gets the more nervous she feels, not ready to face the boy after so many things have come to light. All of break she realized how so many moments between them was more and she never realized. She had started to feel bad herself. Feel bad that she never noticed how hard he was trying. She was his friend, they could’ve just talked, but instead she was oblivious and he refused to break her state of ignorance. Sadly she had to face the music now which is what brings her face to face with his door.

For a moment she almost lets herself in, like she always would, but before her hand can meet the handle she stops. Realizing now their friendship had changed whether either of them wanted it to or not. With an empty pit in her stomach she decided to knock, something she hadn’t done to this door in a very long time. He must be expecting her because the ‘come in’ he hollers out holds no enthusiasm, only dread.

“Hi” Evelyn lightly smiles as she pushes the door open, spotting the boy at his desk, textbooks opened in front of him. He gives a tight lipped smile back, uneasy over how this encounter might play out.

“Hey” he mutters back, watching as she crosses the room to Charlie’s bed, perching herself on the side. He ignored the jealousy burning in his stomach, knowing she did it because it made her feel safe. Secure in a possible messy conversation.

“I’m sorry, for how I reacted. I didn’t mean to be so blinded by anger, it was just a lot to take in” Evelyn starts, eyes cast on her interlocked hands on her lap. The bed smells like Charlie and she instantly remembers he’s laying in her own and that thought comforts her.

“I’m sorry I never told you, I think deep down I always knew I wasn’t the one for you” he responds and Evelyn lifts her head, curious eyes gazing into his own as her eyebrows draw together.

“What do you mean?” She inquires, needing to know what exactly this meant.

“I know you think you’ve been unwanted your entire life but I know that isn’t true. You’re just one of those people destined for one person and the day I met Charlie I should’ve known it was him. I meant what I said at that dance, he understands you in a way I always wished I did” Nate tells her, a forlorn look on his face and Evelyn feels her eyes water.

“I don’t want to lose you Nate, please tell me we can still be friends?” She asks, voice heavy with the threat of tears and Nate smiles at her.

“I’ll always be your friend Evelyn, and I’ll get over this too. He deserves you” he says, standing from his desk to approach her and Evelyn laughs lightly, head tipping back to keep the tears at bay.

“You deserved me too. I’m sorry I was too blind to see it, but I think you’re right. I never noticed because I was never meant to see you in that way” and Nate nods as she agrees with him, voicing the very thing he had been afraid of all those years of loving her. Surprisingly it didn’t hurt as bad a she thought it would.

“Friends then, and no more keeping secrets” he tells her and she brings her head back down to look at him, standing from Charlie’s bed as she interlocks her hands with his own.

“Agreed” she says with a smile before wrapping him tightly in a hug. Nate accepts it, happy he didn’t lose her like he always thought he would. It was going to be hard at first, he knew that, but at least everything was out in the open. He could learn to move on, find the person meant for him. After all they still had senior year left in this school.

“Now let me finish studying, and I’ll see you and Charlie at dinner?” Nate questions as he loosens his grip on her and Evelyn nods, confirming the statement as she reaches and brushes her hair behind her shoulders.

“Perfect, I have to make sure Charlie didn’t completely ruin my room anyways. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him to unpack for me” Evelyn tells him and Nate laughs loudly, bringing a hand up to his chest.

“I can’t believe you let him do that Miss Organization” Nate teases and Evelyn shrugs, eyeing the door that will soon guide her back to the boy she had come to adore so much.

“I don’t know, I guess he just teaches me to loosen up” Evelyn says and Nate grins, hand reaching to squeeze her shoulder, because that was all he ever wanted of his uptight and confident friend. To find someone who could mellow her out when needed and make sure everything was okay.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you later. If I were to guess he’s probably already gone through your underwear drawer by now” and Evelyn laughs, realizing how close Nate and Charlie had gotten in this short amount of time without her realizing. She just nods and offers one last hug before starting for the door.

“Thanks Nate” she says with no explanation as to why before slipping out the room and rushing off to find her boy. The very one she waited her entire life for and now finally got.

When she shoves the door to her dorm open, Charlie instantly lifts his hands from her bag on her desk, eyes frantic as he watches the girl barrel into the room. “I didn’t touch your underwear!”

Evelyn laughs, looking at the boy who just smiles at her, having put away majority of her clothes by now. She just shakes her head and shuts the door behind her, walking towards him so she can wrap her arms around his waist. Charlie drops his arms, wrapping them right back and calming down from the hectic entrance that had scared him.

“I love you too” she tells him softly and a smile cracks along Charlie’s face, his hold tightening around her as she repeats the words he had let slip so casually earlier.

“You do?” he can’t help but ask and Evelyn nods, tipping up on her toes to press a small kiss to the boys lips, eyes never fully shutting to gaze into his own.

“I do, and I think I always will” she tells him and Charlie grins before kissing her deeper this time, hand curling up and into her hair as he guides her face against his own. To think he had the dream of being a playboy just to fall in love with the first girl he met here.

“Then let’s get started on always”

Taglist: @octaviasdread @eden-punk @linmichea1 @pursuedbyamemoryy @mynameisjxlia

a/n: and that’s it folks! Thank you always for reading and loving these chapters. These characters have become extremely special to me and I’m so glad you all have come to love them too. If anyone wants to see any more of them I am open to requests as always & keep your eyes peeled because I just might have something a little extra on the way <3

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film-in-my-soul · 5 months

Text

hurry up, we're dreaming | 1,148 | scissorghost

Summary: Steve and Bucky always meet up during their free third period so they can hang out (read: make out) behind the bleachers on the soccer field. They used to go to the football ones, but too many people had the same idea as them and they preferred the empty, if seriously worse-for-wear, soccer bleachers. But today, Bucky doesn’t greet Steve with his usual bruising kiss, instead sweeping him into a gentle hug and holding him there for a minute. Now, Steve’s never one to complain about hugs, but he would infinitely prefer to already be sucking on Bucky’s tongue by now (he’s got his inhaler ready and everything, just in case he needs it) so he stands on his tiptoes and tries to bring their mouths together, but Bucky just holds him away gently.

Cabin Fever | 1,750 | neversaydie

Summary: Captain's Log, stardate 2246.5 Our diplomatic mission to Nova ended smoothly. Nova Prime and the Antaran diplomatic envoy have begun to hash out a trade deal and no longer require Starfleet to act as a neutral third party. We're heading to the Galiway trade hub to restock the ship and release the crew on an extended ten-day shore leave. Some of the crew are starting to get cabin fever with leave being delayed by almost a month now. Such delays are unavoidable, but I can't blame them for feeling cooped up when I, myself— "Steve, c'mon already. This synthale ain't gonna drink itself." Anyway, we should arrive at Galiway sometime within the next twenty-four hours. Hopefully everyone should be less antsy after they blow off a little steam, including the officers. That's all for now. Rogers out.

Go Fish | 2,653 | notlucy / @notlucy

Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man stuck in an airport, in possession of an iPhone, must open Tinder.

Please see below for more recommendations!

You Will Meet a Stranger | 3,061 | spitandvinegar

Summary: When the mask falls off Steve recoils. He'll never forgive himself.

Dirty Pics | 3,117 | lillupon / @lillupon

Summary: There’s this one guy Bucky slept with three months ago who still sends pics of his ass whenever Bucky asks. What can he say? Grant’s got an ass that just won’t quit.

I Draw A Line (To Your Heart From Mine) | 3,728 | seapigeon

Summary: Bucky hates art therapy. Sure, he used to love art, but that was...before. So if this tiny, annoyingly insightful instructor could just let him coast, that would be great. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be Steve Rogers' style.

Follow Me Home | 4,599 | seapigeon

Summary: The Brooklyn SPCA has a running program for their high energy shelter dogs. Steve quickly becomes their #1 volunteer. Every time he's out with a dog, he thinks about stopping to talk to the cute guy in the park, and every time he chickens out. But today, someone else is making that decision for him. That someone is Engelbert the 80 pound boxer mix.

Prom Sucks! | 4,755 | VenusMonstrosa / @venusmonstrosa

Summary: “Is this a stupid end-of-year prank?” “Jesus, Steve, you think I’d do that?”

Gravity | 5,649 | lillupon / @lillupon

Summary: The Winter Soldier isn’t supposed to know what it means to want something.

We're a Couple of Misfits | 5,797 | notlucy / @notlucy

Summary: Working retail can be unforgiving, especially around the holidays. Luckily, Steve works in a store that has a view of Santa’s Village, the happiest spot in the mall - the place where dreams come true, children never cry, and parents never lose their tempers. Oh, and the place where there may or may not be a hot-ass elf assistant Steve can’t stop daydreaming about.

Nurse Rogers | 6,065 | Bellakitse / @bellakitse

Summary: He’s turning the corner headed back to the ambulance bay where Clint is waiting for him in the truck when he rams into this tiny figure in blue scrubs pants and a white undershirt, the kid is cute, blond and blue-eyed, barely reaching Bucky’s shoulder and so slim that if Bucky didn’t have amazing reflexes and reached for him in time the kid would be on the ground from their encounter. Where Bucky is a cocky paramedic and Steve is a tiny nurse.

We Have the Technology | 6,193 | zetsubonna / @zetsubonna

Summary: How Bucky Barnes's passion for mechanical engineering led him to create his own best friend.

what we are is unexpected | 6,597 | bitelikefire (theoleo) / @deimoslunaa

Summary: Bucky doesn’t know why people keep asking him for fucking favours. What’s even worse is how he doesn’t understand why he can’t say no and that’s how he ends up babysitting his nephew for his little sister and basically playing cool uncle for the next few weeks.

(760): I literally cut myself out of my pants. Waste. Of. Money. | 6,654 | relenafanel / @relenafanel

Summary: Hey friend of Sam’s can I get an opinion on this outfit? Bucky texted, attaching the selfie taken in Sam’s bathroom mirror. He received an answer almost immediately. Bucky was almost expecting a lecture, or at least a concerned question about who had stolen Sam’s phone. He got neither. New text from Steve: What do you want it to say?

If You Let Me | 6,900 | lillupon / @lillupon

Summary: Steve always thought it was silly how easily girls fell for Bucky, even though they must have known he would only break their hearts. Told himself that he would require more than a few sweet words and a cocky grin. But thinking that while watching Bucky charm his way into a girl’s bed for the night is completely different from being on the receiving end of it.

1023 | 6,982 | seapigeon

Summary: Steve has been blessed (or cursed) with a daughter who's just like him. On a crisp fall day, she befriends a man who sleeps under a park bench. Bucky doesn't say much about his past, but in no time at all, Steve is pretty sure he might be his future.

The Afterlife of The Party | 8,433 | neversaydie

Summary: "Oh no. Hell no." Bucky freezes with his hand halfway to the giant ornamental vase the new family have just unpacked. Smashing it would be the perfect way to announce himself on moving day: a big, stylish gesture that's ambiguous enough to leave them feeling only slightly unnerved until he decides things need to escalate. That is, it would be the perfect way to announce himself if a skinny blond kid hadn't just walked through the living room wall. "This house is taken, pal. What the fuck?" "Uh, this is my family." The kid is standing there awkwardly, like they're still corporeal and he might have to duck or deliver a punch in the near future. "This is my house." He narrows his eyes and slowly gets to his feet. The guy's eyes keep flicking to his missing arm and Bucky is starting to see red. "And I don't appreciate other people living in it."

Trains | 9,045 | misslucyjane

Summary: Bucky Barnes is the lead singer of Winter Soldier. Steve Rogers is their biggest fan.

Seawater | 9,330 | littleblackfox / @thelittleblackfox

Summary: He stops in front of a large glass tube; pale, translucent Jellyfish floating serenely within. “Look at these guys, Moon jellyfish. You’re an artist, tell me that’s not beautiful.” Brooklyn stares into the display, the soft blue light highlighting the cut of his cheekbones, the softness of his lips, and Bucky squeezes his hand a little harder. Brooklyn turns to him and smiles, small and crooked and painfully sweet. “Yeah, I guess they are.” Bucky can’t look away, something painful lodged in his throat. “Those horseshoe shapes on the caps are their gonads.” Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Nighthawks | 9,531 | mambo / @whtaft

Summary: Bucky's working the graveyard shift at the diner when some tiny guy in Doc Martens walks in and orders a strawberry milkshake.

Closing Time | 10,872 | RecoveringTheSatellites / @thisonesatellite

Summary: Steve works in a Brooklyn dive bar. A tall, guarded guy comes in to drink at regular intervals. He always sits in the back corner. Steve leaves him alone. He looks like a guy who deserves some peace and quiet. He does find out the stranger's name is Bucky. Finds out what he likes to drink. And little by little, conversation happens. Connection happens. Until one day a cock-flock of dudebros comes in (i made up cock-flock, but really, is that not their collective term) and the heckling goes up to eleven once they’re good and drunk. Bucky gets asked to take it outside. Steve will have none of that, thankyouverymuch.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (and Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14,159 | betts / @bettsfic

Summary: You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what. But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Exhale | 15,676 | seapigeon

Summary: After the Chitauri invasion, Steve parts ways with SHIELD, unsure if he can trust an agency that tried to deceive him and built weapons from the Tesseract. He finds himself alone in an unfamiliar future, penniless, not even legally alive. Fortunately, he knows how to survive. Steve Rogers is used to getting by on his own. The thing is, he doesn't have to.

Dream a Little Dream | 16,458 | velleities

Summary: Steve's MO for living his 21st century life is: keep it simple, fight the good fight with SHIELD and the Avengers, sketch the world around him whenever possible, forget to think about love and all things romance. Steve's 21st Century Life has different plans: a certain charming waiter, a bistro that almost becomes Steve's second home, and an attraction that sends Steve swooning as he starts dreaming of a less lonely existence.

Roots Have Grown | 17,280 | AustinB / @cornerficus

Summary: Bucky is a mildly agoraphobic veteran with funds to spare, who becomes enamored with the cute blonde guy in his building. So when Steve mentions needing a roommate to cut down on rent costs, Bucky decides it would be a good idea to volunteer.

Where The Heart Is | 17,579 | attackofthezee (noxlunate) / @attackofthezee

Summary: When Steve gets home from work there’s someone in his apartment. A tall, foreboding, and goddamned metal armed someone.

Catalysis | 21,594 | follow_the_sun / @lasrina

Summary: Ex-soldier Bucky Barnes doesn't have time to think about that skinny blonde guy he met in the hospital. Especially not after the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. shows up on his doorstep and asks him to save the world.

if all my mistakes (led me to you) | 22,755 | bitelikefire (theoleo) / @deimoslunaa

Summary: Sam’s plans are always the worst plans. And now, Steve has to scramble to find a plus one for Peggy’s big day after being spontaneously dumped. Luckily, he doesn’t have to look very far.

Put Walk Among Us On and Turn it Up | 24,799 | essieincinci

Summary: When Bucky was sixteen and drunk for the first time (on schnapps, dear god, not that he ever admits that part) he let his friend’s greaseball older brother talk him into a homemade stab-n-stick that is just… awful. He walks into the shop from the business card late at night, and a little guy in a too-big hoodie and skinny jeans looks up from the counter.

Sweet Serendipity | 26,179 | velleities

Summary: A troubled city-style lumberjack. Sunshine personified in a man. An accidental phone swap. A serendipitous meet-up. Bucky lets out a small scoff. This isn’t the romcom that one looks for, not usually. It is, however, the one that found Steve and Bucky.

Rivers and Roads | 30,555 | AustinB / @cornerficus

Summary: Steve is working undercover for Hydra when he gets an unexpected promotion. To the Winter Soldier Project.

my heart tells me you are lonely, too | 43,212 | FanGirling

Summary: Bucky sinks into the chair. His ass is falling asleep. “So I just have to, what, learn to be more human?” Sam tries to hold back his sigh but Bucky notices it anyway.

It's Just Temporary | 52,615 | perfect_plan

Summary: Bucky Barnes has no idea what he wants to do with his life and is stumbling from one temp job to the next. Hopefully he can keep his new job at Stark Industries for longer than a week...

Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

#stucky #steve/bucky #stucky reclist #reclist #mcu reclist #fanfic reclist

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onthepyre · 13 days

Note

how do mafia Svet and Mickey meet? are they instant bestie worsties or does it take some time for them to grow on each other? does Svet interact with any of the Gallaghers or just Mickey? (I also need you to know that firefighter Debbie is INSPIRED and I adore it.) how do Mickey and Ian end up getting together—is it a meet cute, a meet ugly, or maybe it's through Mandy somehow? and speaking of, how does Mandy fit into this au? (I love this whole au concept and I hope you don't mind me asking all the questions!)

okay okay. much to think about. i do not mind all the questions in fact i love them im so happy that this au has resonated with people!! i have a lot of thoughts so forgive me for the long post.

svet and mickey met in their late teens (she's like 19, he's about 17) i think. she was living off survival sex work, much like in the show; the person she worked for directly was operating under terry. mickey came in at some point to collect dues and while he was there an argument started up between svet and her client. he got in the middle of it, both for money's sake and because it's shitty to act like that, but the fact that she was willing to take on this 6'3" dude impressed mickey. the fact that she chewed him out for scaring away her client pissed him off, but the whole event was a foundation of rapport between them. every week when he came in for terry's fistfuls of cash, they would chat, and it developed into proper frenemy-ship. for both of them, it was nice to have a confidante as well as someone who was willing to call them out on their bullshit. the rest is history basically.

as far as their interactions with the gallaghers: fiona actually sees very little of either of them. she spends more time around colin, who's in charge of the gambling ring. mickey and svet are an implied presence. post-college loan, it's svet who sees lip and carl a lot - she's way less likely to outright threaten a cop when they come knocking, so everyone (gallaghers and milkoviches alike) tries to make sure she's the spokesperson. debbie doesn't have a ton of contact with them, but when she does, it's mickey, hightailing it away from burning buildings or cars or barrels. she keeps her mouth shut.

and of course, ian.

well, okay, let's start with mandy actually. i mentioned confidence tricks in the other post - this is mandy's jam. romance scammer of epic proportions. catfish, yeah, but also blackmailer and high-end pickpocket (think that robbery mickey and ian pulled in s4, but often subtler). the long-con stuff didn't start until she was old enough to pass for 20s, but she swiped her first wallet when she was 12 and has been living for it since then.

her first meeting with ian is very much like what happens in canon: she flirts with him in school, takes it a little too far, and he brushes her off. he comes out to her pretty much immediately, though, and they resolve to remain friends. around winter break that year, when ian is 15 or 16, the gallaghers hit a rough patch - this is before anyone has steady jobs, and a strike by hurricane monica leaves them barely scraping by. so mandy offers to talk to her brothers about finding work for ian. this is how, five years before he's allowed to drink, he ends up bartending at a mafia front.

ian and mickey are, by gallavich nature, deeply messy for a very long time. their first time is a late night at the bar; it’s nearing the end of the night, things are starting to clear out, but mickey is hanging around and he's being a dick. he's rowdy, loud, angry about something and mouthing off to just about everyone, ian very much included. ian's fed up with it - tells him to shut the fuck up, get the fuck out, or if mickey's really that pissed, give him an hour to close down and they can hash it out. so mickey shuts up and waits. as soon as everyone else is gone, mickey is swinging; it’s a pretty evenly matched fight, but ian gets pinned to the wall. there's a couple seconds of charged eye contact......... and then mickey's fumbling with the button on his pants and ian's shirt is off and okay, fuck, they're doing this.

their fuckbuddy era lasts until ian quits to go to emt school - they go a couple years without contact, but things do pick back up. but that deserves its own post.

#milkovich crime family #shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #svetlana yevgenivna #ian gallagher #mandy milkovich #i will probably actually write the Bar Moment sometime. i love this au dearly

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tantalizingtopi · 5 months

Text

Foolish

Gortash x Durge (Draela)

Word Count: 783-ish

Disclaimer: Characters are belonging to Larian Studios and Baldur’s Gate 3

Pretadpole. Moonrise Towers, a meeting of the Dead Three’s Chosen. Mild tension as the plan continues.

Enjoy ~

��I still fail to see why you insist on animity, Draela,” Kethric begins, leaning over the table towards me. “It’s not doing you any favors.”

I laugh. “It’s easier for me to keep them in line if they don’t know what purpose I serve, if they remain at a distance and fearful.”

“And they should fear you,” Enver agrees readily.

Ketheric shakes his head. “But how do you expect them to continue to revere you as they should, without knowing how pivotal of a role you play?”

I lean back, steepling my fingers together and take a deep breath. I try to remember that we are only a couple of months from the beginning of the end. Yet I am so tired. I cast my eyes to Enver, watching as he works his fingers against his palm, clearly fighting the stiffness in them from all of his correspondence. He will have to take his leave soon to return to Baldur’s Gate and I am itching to join him, torn between feeling like I need to be here to keep the elder brain functioning properly as well as Kethric’s little minions in check and taking care of temple matters as well as causing further panic in the name of the Absolute. The Banite catches my eyes and smiles guiltily, stilling his hand.

“I prefer some intrigue and mystery, old man. Besides, I doubt your own followers would feel comfortable knowing they remain a heartbeat from death in my presence. I work best in the shadows, and that’s where I will remain.”

“For now, my dear. But you will need to embrace the light at least a little when the time comes for us to rule together,” The tyrant gently reminds me.

“I think we are both looking forward to you taking the centerstage with us as your counterparts, Gortash,” Kethric is quick to respond, and I nod. Kethric has always been a reluctant participant in our partnership, more so since Myrkul brought back his daughter who is disgusted by him. I try to find empathy for him but I simply don’t have it in me. Only an old fool would expect his daughter, whose faith is so strong in an opposing god, to be grateful to be by his side and join him. Especially after all these years she’s lost.

Gortash lets loose one of his famous political smiles, the smile that charms dozens and dozens of elites, and strikes fear in many more. I say very little else for the rest of the meeting as the two hash out intricate details over and over again. The same things we have discussed a hundred times over, with only the tiniest variants that change nothing.

I have been struggling to sleep lately, tucked up in small quarters. Kethric had offered to move Balthazar out of his hole for me, but contrary to popular belief, I prefer sleeping in clean quarters and without the stench of the undead flooding my nostrils. My father visits me while I sleep, visions of a future of rivers of blood and gore, carcasses of the dead piled like mountains on his altar, for him. He wishes for quicker progress, but we are stalled for the time while we track a new lead on something that may prove to be our undoing if we cannot locate it.

I watch my lover as he talks, gesticulating as he goes. I think about what those hands, those fingers, can do to me. What mine can do to him. Suddenly I find myself standing, my hand on his shoulder, freezing him mid-sentence. He looks up at me, concerned. I blink down at him, equally as surprised. I quickly catch myself and turn towards our third. “I think we are done for now, Kethric. That will be all.”

“But—“ Kethric begins, and my grip tightens on Gortash’s shoulder.

“You heard the lady, Kethric. We can continue in the morning. It’s late,” Gortash crosses himself, putting his hand on mine.

Kethric stands, fixing me with a glare. “Fine. But this—“ he gestures to the two of us, “needs to not interfere with our plans.”

“It’s just sex old man,” I retort to his back. “I have told you before I can assist in finding you a suitable replacement if you are interested.”

“I’m not.” He opens the door to leave, looking back at us once more, “you’re both being foolish.”

Kethric’s words echo in my head long after he is gone, long after Enver and I have exhausted ourselves with one another. I lay tucked into my lover’s side, listening to him sleep soundly, longing for that sleep myself, wondering just how foolish I truly am.

#fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 dark urge #bg3 #bg3 durge #dark urge #durgetash #gortash smut #gortash x durge #lord enver gortash #kethric thorm #bg3 ketheric #bg3 gortash #dark urge x gortash #Draela #bg3 fanfiction #a different type of dark urge

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mouthsfullofsharpteeth · 9 months

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im so glad theres someone else out there who understands the important of timlex. theyre so cosmically linked to me. everyday i think about how tim offered to help alex and everyday i am burdened by the weight of knowing

holding your hand anon. it truly is a burden to be so right about the greatest ship ever. just the tragedy of tim watching alex lead each of their friends out back to shoot like a sick horse, while tim was the one to infect all of them. tim pleading with alex to just accept help, telling him they could fight it away together. and what if alex had agreed? what if he had finally crumbled under the weight of all that anger and stress and fear, and agreed to let tim help? what would they have done? get hotels in the same building, force themselves to get breakfast at the crappy hotel buffet every morning and stare at each other over a plate of bacon and hash browns, dead silent, until alex asks if tim can see it right now and tim says yes, and alex says he has a migraine so bad that he wants to off himself. and tim says he understands. and he has several high strength pain killers in his room if alex would like one or two. and so they go back to tim's room, the operator glooming around every corner, wrapped around their throats like a noose or a dog collar, following its prisoners who are also its fucked up pets, stalking them while they try to ignore it. "just ignore it" tim says. "its not that simple" alex says, swallowing the painkillers. "but it will be the more you do it" tim tells him. alex doesn't look convinced. maybe a week later, tim says he needs to get out of this fucking hotel. alex agrees. and so they find another one thirty minutes away, and drive in their separate cars, no possessions except whatever they had on their backs. and they meet at that next hotel, and they get their own rooms again, and meet for breakfast again, and when alex doesn't come to breakfast on the third morning, tim gets scared. maybe he gets attached too fast, and maybe he has a thing about routine, but alex not showing up freaks him out. it shouldn't, but it does. and he goes to alex's room, knocking, trying to ignore his fear that maybe alex up and left in the middle of the night, abandoned tim, leaves him like everyone else ends up doing one way or another. its a minute of knocking, and then the locks inside all click open, and alex opens the door, shaky and pale and sweaty, and just from the look on his face, tim knows alex did not sleep. knows that thing haunted him all night. and wordlessly, tim steps inside, keeps watch while alex huddles back in bed and tries fitfully to sleep a little more. and that night, alex begs him not to leave, says he knows the operator will come back again, and this time alex isn't sure he can make it. he tells tim he failed, and that it wants him dead now. he tells tim he cant go on with the guilt he's carrying. and tim says he knows, but that alex has to carry on anyway. and maybe after that, alex starts listening more when tim tries to help. maybe something comes from that.

#idk what happened #i did not start answering this ask with the intention of writing all that #i just really like them #timlex #tim wright #alex kralie #asks #my writing

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pigeonwit · 9 months

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mr pidgeon. you made a post about crace (crutchie and race) as a ship like two months ago. they are my number one realest pairing of all time. the otp of otps. do you have any more thoughts about them? if so please share bc content is so rare and far between ty

love the way this is written like a formal request my guy. 'please sir may i have some more' type energy. love it. ABSOLUETLY yes.

so my big thing with newsies is that - to a certain degree - ALL the characters could potentially work together relationship-wise. it really just depends on how you want to interpret them, and since there are so many different productions of newsies and so much room for interpretation of all these slightly-different versions of the same characters, i have a lot of different interpretations for all of them. i've got a big empty brain and something has to fill it, and i spent so long pondering crutchie and race's dynamic in the,,, foooour years? five? five years of me being a newsies fan, that they're just,,, stuck in there and they're not leaving. so i would be THRILLED to share some thoughts*.

*every single crutchtrack thought i've ever had throughout my (approx) five years of watching and re-watching livesies and seeing uksies twice.

so my interpretation of crutchie and race as characters is like... they're both friends of jack's, but that's kind of where they end with each other. i didn't see their interactions in the musical as brotherly as other people do, i saw it more like 'we're supposed to be friends and this is how friends treat each other but it's just not landing the way it should' - in livesies and uksies, crutchie seems pretty offended (and a little pissed off honestly) that race implies it is only his limp that sells him papers. we know race is joking, but i don't think it ever occurred to race that that's not something he's allowed to joke about with crutchie. and to me, that speaks to them never having hashed out those boundaries together, which i interpret as them not having spent that much time bonding one-on-one despite both being so close to jack.

i also think crutchie being such a realist (especially in uksies, dude is kind of a jerk) made it difficult for them to connect with each other as well - i know a lot of people interpret 'king of new york' as race trying to keep the newsies from losing hope, and i imagine that that's part of it, but he literally got his name from constantly betting on horses at sheepshead, and with crutchie being such a realist ("we got the right to starve, let's just get our papes and go", rolling his eyes at katherine promising them a place in the paper, etc) i imagine that causes some friction between them. race, despite everything, believes there has to be some small chance things can turn around, whereas crutchie (again, ESPECIALLY in uksies) believes that focusing on what's real will keep him from getting stung - and THEN, during the strike, both of them seem to switch; crutchie is the one trying to be optimistic because he's finally let himself believe that they have a real chance, and race is pulling away because he knows the odds are stacked against them. and again - they are NOT getting along over it! race openly derides him in front of all the newsies! i wouldn't call them POLAR opposites, and i do agree they probably got along the way friends do, but all of their interactions gave me the idea that neither of them really seem to Get the other in the intrinsic way all the other newsies seem to. i never interpreted them as actually close, and certainly not brotherly, at least not until the strike, wherein they both start to realize there's more to the other than they thought. i think crutchie has always been underestimated by the people around him, even jack, and i think race always brushed him off as just another naive stray that jack was looking out for and didn't bother getting to know him, the same way crutchie probably brushed race off as an impulsive loudmouth gambler and didn't get to know him, either. i think their friendship became WAY more solidified during the strike for the split-second it lasted; and i think crutchie being taken away so soon after is left this massive hole race had been to oblivious to notice before.

i think race very suddenly realized the weight of crutchie's absence, especially right before king of new york - crutchie is definitely not an OPTIMIST per se, but he does clearly try to be kind to people, even when the situation is dire. but no one's doing that now. they're all wallowing in their loss and no one's there to goof off and make them smile again; hence, 'it ain't been the same without ya' (yes i made an entire backstory for that one fucking line i don't CARE okay i don't CARE you don't know how much that broke me). and i think after the strike, race - however conscious he is of it - is the one who keeps looking towards crutchie, keeps noticing all the little things he does to keep the newsies sane, keeps seeing the way he sets his shoulders when he's stressed and fiddles with his rosary when he's nervous, and doubly notices all the ways in which crutchie tries to hide that from people. i think he realizes that for all the years he spent knowing crutchie, being kinda-maybe-but-only-in-a-group friends with him, he never actually knew him at all. so he makes more of an effort, tries to talk to him more, even tries selling with him at one point, purely because race is the most annoying person alive when he's curious, and crutchie,,, DOES NOT care for it, obviously, because why is race being so nice to him NOW, when crutchie's freshly out of the refuge, than he ever has been before?

i imagine crutchie might chew him out for it, really lays into race for trying to take care of him when crutchie's made it pretty clear he's more than capable of taking care of himself - and i think race gives as good as he gets, really, because race doesn't shy away if someone's picking a fight with him. but i think at some point in the argument, race must say something along the lines of 'making up for lost time' - and that's something crutchie turns over in his head a LOT afterwards. until he realizes that oh, this isn't about his time in the refuge, it's about all the time they spent nodding at each other instead of saying hi or how are you, it's about all the times they awkwardly smiled in passing because neither of them knew what to say, it's about all the times they COULD have known each other and just. didn't. out of sheer convenience.

so crutchie turns up the next day and tells race they're selling together, and that's that. okay, so crutchie's blunt, race didn't know that - or, well, he did ("you're seeing stars all right", "ain't we got no rights?" "we've got the right to starve", etc), but he didn't... know that. not really. crutchie's polite to the delancey's and wiesel when they buy their papers, but when oscar tries to yank his papers as crutchie grabs them to make him lose his balance, crutchie stands completely firm, strong enough to make oscar wobble a little - and takes his papers with a saccharine smile and a 'thank-you'. okay, so crutchie's a decent person, race did know that, but he's no push-over, he's actually kind of tough, and race... did not know that. it was always there, and race never knew it.

so they sell, and every so often they make some attempts at conversation that, as awkward as they are, are still enjoyable. crutchie's funny, actually. not just roll-your-eyes funny, but genuinely, clutching your sides funny. he's kind of dark, too, and race loves it. and as much as race is noticing that, crutchie's noticing how smart and insightful and genuine race can be when he's not trying so hard to be a loudmouth - or maybe he was always that genuine and crutchie had just rolled his eyes and figured he was just being a loudmouth anyways.

they start selling regularly. they keep talking, asking questions - they try to keep it small, but somehow 'what's your favourite selling spot' becomes 'how'd you come to new york' which becomes 'how'd you meet jack' which... tells them a lot. and over some time, they're really starting to understand each other. it's weird - they're both very aware that race shouldn't have to ask what crutchie orders at jacobi's when they've supposedly been friends for years, they're both aware that crutchie shouldn't be surprised that race has so many cousins when he talks about them all the time, so on, so forth. but those cracks are starting to fill, and over time, they fit together. friends. real friends.

and when they're up late and drinking on the fire escape, and race turns to him and asks, "you ever been kissed? just, y'know, just askin'..." they both understand each other perfectly.

#i am so sorry for the entire fucking essay this became but. i do love crutchtrack very much #gotta make it clear that i am a multishipper through and through #so like i have a lot of these kinds of ship-thoughts. crutchbert. racevid. etc. not sprace surprisingly - at least not until i saw uksies #now sprace is locked in my brain REAL tight.#crutchtrack is just the one i happen to've thought about the most #idk why i have to make that clear i guess i just feel like i have to explain myself all the gd time but!! i hope you enjoyed this anyways!!#newsies #uksies #crutchie #racetrack higgins #crutchtrack #ask #just-pot-over-here

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metalmonki · 4 months

Text

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love (Revisited) Part 3

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

6.5k word count

Summary The part in which you begin to question if Dean actually has feelings for you or is just stringing you along. Also you prove your a kick ass hunter through the power of research.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers, slow-burn

Warnings mention and description of death, s-assault, talks of people with disabilities in a negative light. Your disability doesn't make you a burden! You are amazing, you are loved!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I cried for who knows how long while Dean held me in his arms. He had moved us over to sit on his bed never once letting me go. When I finally got myself together long enough to move away from Dean all I could manage was too look at the ground in front of the bed.

“Never seen a dead body before?” Sam asked

I nodded. I couldn’t bring myself to speak nor could I trust my voice to work. The room fell into a comfortable silence. Dean stood up from the bed and began moving around the room. He retrieved his bag which he had discarded in a random corner and pulled out a Metallica shirt. He brought it back across to me. He handed It over saying I can borrow it for now so I don’t have to go out to my car to get my own clothes. I accepted the shirt and walked off into the bathroom to change. I hung my swimmers over the towel rack and made my way back over to Deans bed. I looked over at the boys who nodded in acknowledgement. I crawled into Deans bed and pulled the covers over me. I really want to sleep and I figured if I laid down with my eyes closed long enough I would sleep. But it seemed my brain had other ideas. As I was trying to sleep the boys began talking.

“This has really shaken her Dean”

“I know Sammy I wanted to keep her out of this life, we’re suppose to save people not drag them down into our kind of crazy”

“Come on man she choose this for herself she had the opportunity to walk away but she choose to take up this life there isn’t much we can do about that”

“I want to make sure she is somewhere I can keep an eye on her, I want her to be safe”

“You can’t expect her to just pack up and leave Dean what has gotten into you man you’ve never acted like this”

“She’s…I don’t know…she’s different”

“Your in love”

“Dude don’t even go there”

The room fell silent and I drifted off. When I woke up it was dark out. The cheap alarm clock next to the bed read 4:30 am. I sat up and looked around the room. Dean was asleep on the lounge and Sam was asleep in his bed. I felt too full of energy to sleep so I got up and tip toed across the room to the table to take Sams laptop. I took his laptop back to Deans bed and looked through the stuff Sam and Dean had put together while I was asleep. It would seem they had gotten as far as I had. I knew burying myself in the case wasn’t the smartest thing to do but I needed to stop whatever this was from hurting anyone else. But since we had all arrived at this dead end means we needed to look at this a different way. I closed Sams laptop and hopped off Deans bed. I snuck out to my car and grabbed a change of clothes. I slipped quietly into the bathroom, changed out of Deans shirt, retrieved Sams laptop off the bed and slipped quietly out of the hotel room. Rather than take my car and risk waking the boys I opted to walk to where I was going. Really I just wanted food and free wi-fi. There was only one place I knew where I was going to get both. McDonalds. I walked the 6 blocks to the nearest McDonalds, order more hash browns then should be legally allowed and took a seat in a back corner while I waited for them to be ready. I opened up Sam’s Laptop and began going over all the information again. I pulled up the information on all the victims and the pool and began pouring over it again. My hash browns came and I ate them down while reading and rereading all the information presented to me. There was nothing standing out to me. 12 Deaths now and seemingly no connections between them. All different ages, races, genders, religions. Not a single overlap and nothing that stood out as reason why these people. I even removing deaths and could reasonable be discounted like the first death or the boy who apparently slipped down the stairs and the twins who drowned in the wave pool. Those 4 could easily be marked down as a freak accident but even with them removed from the equation two plus two still didn’t equal four. It was frustrating. I groaned and sank back in the highly uncomfortable plastic chair. I took a glance around the now busy McDonalds. Confused and slightly tired I took a quick glance at the time in displayed in the bottom right hand corner of the laptop. 6:23pm. My eyes widened at the realisation that I had been sitting in the same spot all day. I hurried packed up the laptop and went to retrieve my phone confused as to why Sam or Dean hadn’t been trying to call me all day. My hands rummaged through my pants pockets coming up empty. I dumped out my messenger bag that I took everywhere with me finding nothing. Shit. I mentally cursed. I quickly shoved everything back into my bag before sprinting into the parking lot hoping I simply left it in the car. A quick glance, however, showed no signs of my car. Right I walked here. I groaned, rubbed my hands over my face and began the walk back to the hotel. Dean was probably thinking that I had done something stupid and Sam probably thought I stole his laptop. I mean technically I did but I was going to return it and I never intended to be gone all day. The walk back to the hotel seemed to take twice as long as the walk to McDonalds. But when the hotel finally came into sight I quickened my pace. I came to a quick stop, however, when I heard arguing in the room.

“I’m telling you Dean she might not come back” Sam yelled “And she probably took more than just my laptop”.

“Oh so you think she took your laptop and god knows what else but left behind her phone and her car that cost way more than anything we own”

“I mean how well do we really know her Dean”

“If I may intercede, could it not be that she is somewhere researching the case and that time ran from her grasp” A third voice I didn’t know spoke up

“What…do you mean time got away from her?” Dean asked baffled

“Is that how you say it? If so that’s what I meant to say” The voice came again

“Hate to say it Sammy but I agree with the angel”

I reached out and knocked on the door not wanting to just barge in while tempers where clearly high. The room fell silent. Heavy boot steps made there way towards the door. There was a moment of silence before a gentle thank god could be heard from the other side of the door. The door swung open to reveal just Dean and Sam in the room. I was certain I heard a third voice. I stepped quietly past Dean into the room. From the look on Sams face I could tell Dean must have made some gesture from behind me directed at him. I glanced to the bathroom expecting to see the third person over there for the door to at least be closed signalling someone was in there. But to my shock and confusion the door was open and the bathroom empty.

“Who where yous talking to? I asked looking between them confused

“We weren’t talking to anyone” Dean looked over at Sam “Maybe you heard the TV” Dean mostioned to the TV that was one but had been muted

“Anyway where have you been?” Sam asked changing subjects and clearly still mad at me

“I went to McDonalds to use their Wi-Fi to continue researching, I was up at 4:30 and I didn’t want to wake you” I looked over at Dean who had moved to sit on the end of his bed “Sorry I took your laptop without asking Sam I left mine behind at my mothers when she kicked me out”

I handed Sam back his laptop. He took it without so much as a thank you and immediately began checking it over. I wanted to scoff and roll my eyes but I knew that would only piss him off more.

“So did you find anything” Dean asked

“Nothing I even tried removing the deaths that could reasonably be ridden off as accidents and even that didn’t resolve anything I am, however, confident that we’re likely dealing with a vengeful spirit”

“And how did you reach that conclusion” Sam scoffed tossing his laptop on his bed so much for being concerned about it being broke

“We’ve ruled out burial grounds and anything sacred, then if you look at location, the fact that all the deaths where witnessed and nothing supernatural was seen, it leaves a very short list and I felt that of that list spirit was mostly likely” I kept my eyes locked with Sam

“Well why vengeful spirit why not a water sprite?” Sam asked with a smirk

“Seriously Sammy? A fairy? Have you ever in all your years of hunting found any reliable concreate evidence that fairies are real?” I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms. I was met with silence from Sam “That’s what I thought, spirit it is”

Dean sat on his bed smirked plastered on his face, clearly amused. “So if that’s the case then I guess we should head back to the pool and asked more about these deaths” Dean brought his hands together with a loud clap before rubbing them together.

Sam silently huffed making his way to the door. Dean said something along the lines of he’ll get over it before moving for the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on while I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. With nothing else to be done for tonight and both boys otherwise out of the room I retrieved Deans shirt from the corner I had tossed it in this morning and got ready for bed. I was just chilling on the bed enjoying a nice stretch and yawn when I heard the shower shut off. A few minutes later the door opened and Dean walked out with nothing but a towel around his waist.

“Sorry the room was quiet so I just thought you’d, you know, left” Dean said awkwardly

I opened and closed my mouth a few times unable to form a proper sentence. Dean also seemed to be frozen in place. My eyes wandered over Deans chiselled chest. It was clear he worked out and with this line of work it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Before I could stop myself I was standing in front of Dean. I reached a hand out and traced my fingers down his chest to his stomach feeling each groove, skin covered in old scars and felt the muscles twitch beneath my touch. Dean placed a finger beneath my chin and forced me to look up at him. Our eyes connected in an intense stare. Neither of us dared to move for several moments. When it became clear that neither of us where going to make a move to break away Dean began to close the distance.

“I brought dinner” Sam suddenly walked in the door.

Dean and I jumped apart in surprise, Dean making a b-line for some clothes before heading back into the bathroom. I silently cursed Sam. Sam looked red faced between the now closed bathroom door and me. He knew he had walked in at a bad time but at the same time it didn’t seem like he wanted to speak of what he had seen. I sat at the table while Same silently dished out the fast food he had purchased. Looked like burgers for Dean and I while Sam had gotten himself some sort of salad. Dean emerged from the bathroom moments later fully clothed. He took his burger and fries and left the room. He mumbled something on the way out about going to see a friend. Sam and I ate in silence before Sam went to shower while I retreated to Dean’s bed. I pulled Deans shirt up over my nose and breathed in his smell. I was letting my senses get filled with the scent of sandalwood, leather, whiskey and gasoline when Sam suddenly exited the bathroom and began talking.

“What is happening between you and Dean?”

“I..uh…what do you mean?” I asked

“After we left last time Dean kept talking about you, he was hoping we would see you again yet at the same time was hopeful you would listen to him and take his advice” Sam sat on his bed “He clearly loves you but I don’t think having you around is best for Dean”

“If there was anything between Dean and I then it would be nothing to do with you” I spat in anger “I love Dean, I’ve felt myself falling further and further in love with him from the first time I met him, I had hoped yous would come back but I had also accepted that you probably wouldn’t. Besides who are you to say whats best for Dean?”

“I’m his brother” Sam yelled “Having you around is clearly distracting him and in this line of work distraction guarantees death”.

Sams yelling had scared me so much that all I could muster up was “Goodnight Sam” before I curled up in Deans bed. Sam stormed out of the room. I heard Deans impala roar to life moments later and drive off. I started to cry in the now quiet room and I allowed myself to cry until I had fallen asleep. I woke up the next morning to Sam and Dean making a game plan for the day. I sat up in bed and listened to their plan before climbing from bed to have a shower and get ready for the day. After my quick shower and getting dressed I packed my swimmer into a bag and slung the bag over my shoulder. Dean grabbed his car keys asking if I was going to be joining them in his car or if I would be driving my car. I choose to go in Deans car in order to save on petrol. The less money I needed to put into petrol the better. We drove in silence until we reached the pool. The parking lot was almost empty. Dean found a parking spot close to the door, pulled up and turned off the engine. Dean asked me to go in ahead of them to check if the police where still hanging. I made my way into the building. From reception I could see down the womens room. There was no crime scene tape and no signs of police.

“Sad wasn’t it” a voice said behind me

“What?” I asked turning to see a woman beside me

“Didn’t you hear about the suicide two days ago?” She said

“Oh they ruled that a suicide?” I asked

“Yeah they said the girl had been sexually assault a couple weeks ago and that was apparently her breaking point poor thing”

I agreed with woman who walked off towards the pools. I made my way back outside to the boys who were busy digging in the trunk and now dressed back in their suits from the other day. I wasn’t going to question where or how they had changed. I grabbed my bag off the back seat while informing them on the outcome of the death days prior. Dean and Sam shared a knowing look as we all worked our way back into the pool. I once again paid to swim while Sam and Dean flashed badges and continued with their story about investigating on behalf of a victims family. Sam and Dean wondered off to speak with staff while I went to explore around the pool. There was an information wall in reception but it said nothing about any of the incidents and why should it. I walked around to where each of the incidents had occurred but could find nothing. I was about to head for Sam and Dean when I heard two familiar voices that made me freeze in my tracks.

“I swear she was here the other day with two hot guys”

“Oh my god I always knew she was such a slut, you watch soon she’ll be pregnant and will have no idea who the father is”

“Look there she is”

“Hi Rachel, Jorden do you work here too?” I asked panic slowly taking over

“Yeah what of it? It pays well.” Jorden crossed her arms.

“Oh okay, I-uh-I was going to go for a swim while I wait for my boyfriend to be done doing what he needs to do”

“Boyfriend or boyfriends?” Rachel snickered

Not wanting to continue the conversation I tucked tail and ran. I had been outside in a general seating area at the time and quickly made my way back into the main swimming complex. I spotted Sam before Dean as the two had split up. Sam was busy talking with a lifeguard near the wave pool when I got back into the main pool area, after the night before I really didn’t want to talk to him so I hurried on by and continued to look for Dean. It wasn’t until I spotted Dean speaking with the man behind the snack counter that I realised how bad I was shaking. Having to deal with not one but two of my high school bullies had really rattled me. I changed directions and headed for the change rooms instead. I needed to calm myself down before continuing the investigation if there was anything I could agree with Sam on right now it was that being distracted could get me killed. I made my way to the sinks and splashed some cool water on my face. I stared at myself in the mirror for a few minutes trying to push down all the feelings of anger and fear that where consuming me. Fear of the bullies and anger for still not having the courage to stand up for myself. I took a few big breaths, dried off my face and headed back out into the main pool area where I had last seen Dean. A quick glance at the snack counter told me he was no longer there which started my search for him all over again. Although the search didn’t last long as I soon spotted him in an adults only area up above one of the 25 meter pools which held sun chairs and a spa. Unfortunately he was speaking with them. I sucked in as much air as my lungs would allow and walked towards the adults only area. I walked up beside Dean and laced my fingers with his. I stood silently by his side and listen to their conversation. Dean was asking questions about the other accidents that had occurred at the pool but at the same time was absent-mindedly rubbing circles into my hand with his thumb. It was very distracting and I found myself staring out our hands and thinking about last night.

“Heres a question how does someone as ugly as her ended up with someone as handsome as you” my head shoot up to look at Rachel who was now giggling at the comment she made

“Yeah it just doesn’t add up unless your only with her because of all that money she got” Jorden added

“Or because she was easy to get into bed” Rachel laughed

“Shut up both of you, y/n is the most beautiful, most amazing, intelligent, sweetest person I have ever met, god knows I don’t deserve her, yet here she is right next to me and that makes me one hell of a lucky bastard” Dean started off speaking sternly at the girls before smiling down at me

I was shocked into silence, I knew I was blushing something bad too. Clearly Deans little speech had shocked them into silence too. They quickly excused themselves after that. Dean watched the girls walk away before looking back to me.

“So find anything?” Dean cleared his throat awkwardly

“Oh uh a woman told me that the death the other day has been ruled a suicide and that the girl had been assaulted about a week ago”

“Assaulted? Did she happen to mention if the friend who was with her here was there then too?” Dean asked a sudden look of realisation crossing his face

“No she didn't, why?”

“I think I know whats going on here, we need to find Sam”

Dean who was still holding my hand pulled me out of the adults only area. Dean quickly looked around the pools and in the outside seating area before dragging me up the ramps back towards reception. Dean must have looked frightening to the people around us, a grown ass man dragging a what looked to be a teenage girl from the pool. I could feel people watching us as Dean pulled us into reception and basically sprinted over to Sam. Sam who had been talking with a guy on the reception table look between Dean and I and our interlaced hands with a questioning look. It was then Dean realised we were still holding hands and let go of my hand with an awkward cough. He rubbed his hand on his suit jacket before shoving it into this pants pocket and waited for Sam to finish his conversation. Sam thank the man behind the counter and pulled us away to a more private corner to chat.

“I think I worked out whats going on here Sammy” Dean said before Sam could speak

“Well fill in the class” I said both exhausted from running after Dean and a little impatient

“I'm pretty sure our spirit is seeing these people as burdens on those closest to them”

“Care to elaborate” Sam crossed his arms turning his whole body to face Dean

“One life guard told me about how he remembered our American vic's mother telling him that they were here to seem some world class behavioural specialist to hopefully help them calm down the kid” Dean looked between the both of us “And another one told me that one of the other victims fell over the railing from the spa area down to the concrete below broken neck died instantly, the kicker? She was in a fricken wheel chair”

“And the assault, she would have been depressed” I whispered

“So what? That doesn't bring us any closer to working out who the spirit is” Sam said “It could be someone who felt they were a burden or someone who saw someone else as a burden”

“Then we need to look at all the deaths and workout who fits the pattern and who doesn't, we do know it has to be someone who died here” I looked between the two

“Then lets go look further into each victim” Dean said

Sam and I nodded in agreement and we all headed for the parking lot. As we stepped out the door Dean was busy digging in his pocket for his car keys, Sam was busy on his phone and I was looking at my feet. None of us was really paying attention to the parking lot until Dean looked up from retrieving his keys and let out an anger fill. WHAT THE FUCK! Sam and I both looked at the empty parking spot where the Impala was suppose to be.

“Oh dear was that your car?” A familiar voice came from behind us

“You bitch” Dean yelled storming towards Jorden

“I'm sorry the car was illegally parked” Jorden didn't even flinch as Dean came almost toe to toe with her the shit eating grin she wore not even faltering.

“Baby was parked perfectly” Dean screamed in her face.

“Oh well not when I came out here it wasn't” Jorden turned on her heels and walked back into the building, hips swaying as she went.

“Come on I know the way to the car yard” I sighed walking off.

Dean walked side by side with me while Sam trailed behind us. I could feel Sams eyes burning into the back of my head. I had no idea what his problem was, all we had to do was finish this case then they could go back to the US and he wouldn't have to see me ever again assuming they didn't get anymore cases here. The walk to the car yard took almost 45 minutes. That was 45 minutes of Sam giving me laser eyes and Dean going on about his car. I remained silent the whole walk. I kept thinking about if I wasn't here Jorden would never have done this. If I wasn't here Jorden and Rachael would have no reason to target Dean. If I wasn't here Sam wouldn't have a reason to worry about his brother. Maybe I was the problem.

“Oh thank god” Dean said suddenly pulling me from my thoughts.

“Oh we're here” I looked at the car yard sign in a daze.

“Hay, uh, Sammy how about you go get the car and I'll wait out here with y/n” Dean said a hint of concern in his voice.

Sam just scoffed, rolled his eyes and walked off into the car yard. I watched as he disappeared into the large lot of endless cars lined up side by side, some cars where crushed and piled sky high one on top of the other. I continued to watch even when he was completely out of sight. Dean watched me watching Sam. After he was certain Sam was out of ear shot he spoke up.

“What is going on with you?” Dean asked making me break my gaze from the car yard to look at him

“Huh? What? N-nothing is wrong with me?” I stuttered

“Don't even try it short stack you've been silent since we left the pool, hell before that even so are you going to tell me what the problem is or am I going to have to make you walk about to the hotel?” Dean folded his arms becoming serious.

“Honestly it's fine, it's probably all in my head” I tried to smile

“Oh no your not getting out of it that easy” Dean scoffed “Now spill”

“It's just I feel like I'm the problem” I sighed “Everything that's happened today could have been prevented if I wasn't here, hell everything that happened last night probably could have been prevented too now I think about it” I wrapped my arms around myself in an awkward hug

“Okay first you are not the problem you are far from the problem” Dean uncrossed his arms to point at me “Secondly I never want to hear you call yourself a problem again”

“Well Sam seems to think I'm a pretty big issue and Jorden only did what she did because of me” Tears started to fall before I could stop them. Next thing I knew Dean had me wrapped in his arms. He wrapped one arm around my back, his thumb rubbing my arm. His other hand held my head gentle against his chest. He kissed the top of my head before setting his chin gentle on top of my head.

“I'll speak to Sam and as for those girls I think they would have been snobby no matter who was there” Dean said softly

I just nodded and rested against Dean. It seemed liked ages before Sam came back. Dean had let me go and we put some space between us. We'd gone into a long conversation about Jorden and Rachael and everything they had done during high school. I told Dean about how I felt like a failure for still not standing up to them even now. Dean though pointed out how he had seen the looks of pure jealously he had seen them giving in my direction anytime they saw me. He also told me anytime he caught them watching me he would make sure it make it super obvious that he was checking me out we apparently made them extra jealous. I had to chuckle at that, I wish I could have seen the looks on their faces. Sam came back with 4 bags of stuff but no Impala.

“Where's Baby?” Dean was quick to ask a lot of anger taking over his features.

“Sorry Dean they are right on closing, I paid the fine, they said we could pick the car up in the morning” Sam sighed

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed “Did you at least check her for damage?”

“Uh...” Sam looked nervously between Dean and the pavement

“What is it Sam”

“The passenger side is dented, it looks like they pushed it with another car, sorry Dean”

“SON OF A BITCH” Dean screamed

I quickly placed a hand on Deans arm to get his attention. “It's okay Dean we can go to my Mums place for the night, she won't be home anyway and we can come back first thing to get Baby, and you can assess the damage then”

“I'm gonna kill 'em” Dean voice shook as he tried to calm down

I took Deans hand in mine and began leading him away from the car yard. Sam started asking how far the walk was and how I could be so certain that my mum wouldn't be home. I told them the walk was about 20 minutes. Something I only knew from the insane amount of times I had to walk it between the ages of 17 and 20 every time I would have my car impounded for speeding or just being a menace on wheels. As for my Mum not being home it was simple, she worked out of the country from most of the year. It had been that way for as long as I could remember. She had a big name baby and children's business selling everything from nappies to clothes, shoes to bags. Last I had spoken to her before she kicked me out she had wanted to branch into teenage and young adult fashions. Most of her products where mass produced in factories in London and Sweden so she spent most of her time between the two occasional coming home every 3 months or so just to check I was alive. I had been looking after myself since I was 14. I would often have friends stay weekends just to know feel so alone. Theresa was one of those friends. Her parents never cared where she was and my mother never cared who I had over so she basically lived with me. It was a minor miracle that we managed to get ourselves to school and back let alone actually become somewhat productive adults. By the time I had finished my life story we were standing in front of my mothers house. I led them down the steep driveway to the side gate. She never locked it so it was as simple as lifting the metal latch that protruded between the fence and the gate to open it. I walked into the small backyard which showed no change from the last time I was here. I went into the sliding door almost directly to my left into an open living room, kitchen and dining room space with a stair case off to the right side by the kitchen leading upstairs to the main part of the house.

“Those two lounges are pull out sofa beds” I pointed towards the two metal sofas that looked like they had walked out of the 80s “I'll be sleeping just through that sliding door which is my old room and that door next to it is a bathroom which also has another sliding door into my room”

“Oh I have to see your room” Dean laughed

He went straight for the sliding door pushing it open and walking in. He immediately burst into laughter causing Sam to follow him into the room. I dropped my head and followed them into the room. Sam joined in Deans laughter while I stood highly embarrassed at my room décor. The fact that all my posters still hung on the walls, the walls where still pink and purple, my fairy bed set remained untouched, most embarrassing of all the life size print out of Gerard Way was still taped to the ceiling above my bed.

“Are you sure you have the right house?” Sam laughed “I mean come on? You? Faries?”

“It was a faze” I huffed

“Sam did you see the poster on the roof?” Dean laughed

“Oh get out both of you” I waved my arms around

The boys laughed and left the room. Once they were out I locked the sliding door and the bathroom door. All I wanted was 5 minutes peace and a nice hot shower. I dug through my cupboard finding an old band shirt that I use to wear as a sleep shirt. I tossed it on my bed and headed for the shower. I let the hot water run over my back as I let the days stressors go down the drain. After my shower, I dressed, dried and climbed into bed. It was only when it was silent that I could hear Sam and Dean softly speaking in the lounge area.

“She's a distraction for you Dean” I heard Sam hold back from yelling

“That doesn't give you the right to upset her, besides once we're through this case we can go home and you can go back to pretending she never existed” Dean said

“But you won't, you'll always be wondering if shes okay, if she's alive” Sam said “This is why hunters don't get happily ever afters Dean”

“Don't worry so much Sammy, once we're home I can hit up a few bars, get laid and get her out of my system, its worked in the past why wouldn't it work this time”

I stopped listening after that. I looked up at the poster on my roof and cried. I cried myself to sleep like many nights spent in that room.

“You know she's different Dean” Sam said

“Oh yeah how would you know that?” Dean asked

“You love her, it's obvious” Sam shrugged “After we were here last you kept bring her up, you literally got like every form of social media to see if you could track her down and see what she was up to, you were worried about her then, but now you have her number so what happens when she doesn't message you or call you? Then what will you do?” “You know what I'm done with this conversation” Dean said turning his back to Sam to try to get some sleep.

“Who the hell are yous?” The yelling came from the lounge room waking me. “Why are you in my house?”

It was a voice I recognised instantly as my mothers. I jumped out of bed and raced out into the lounge room.

“Mum it's okay there my friends” I said coming to stand in the middle of the room

“y/n what are you doing here? I thought you were travelling and had no intentions of ever coming back here” Mum said

“We just needed somewhere to crash for the night while Deans car got fixed up, we'll be headed off shortly. Honestly I didn't think you were home”

“I wasn't I just flew in early this morning from London, are you going to introduce your friends?” Mum asked motioning between Sam and Dean

“This is Sam and that's Dean their brothers” I said point to each brother in turn

“Are you sleeping with them?” Mum asked

“Mum! Seriously, why would you ask that!” I almost shouted

“Sorry ma'am we're just friends, travel buddies” Dean spoke up

“Oh American I see, figures she'd end up with someone American it was always going to be that or someone British” Mum shrugged

“Seriously Mum” I sighed

“What I'm just pointing out the facts, would you boys like breakfast before you all rush off? God knows my daughter can't stand me and now she knows I'm home she'll be dying to leave as soon as possible” Mum acted over dramatic

“That sounds great thank you very much” Sam smiled at Mum

I sighed and went back into my room to change. I grabbed yet another old band shirt from my cupboard and a pair of ripped skinny jeans to change into. While I was at it I grabbed an old suitcase of mine and tossed a few loose items into it that I really should have grabbed the first time I left like my laptop, some extra clothes and my jewellery box. I placed the suitcase next to the boys duffle bags and head up stairs to the upstairs kitchen. Sam and Dean where already upstairs sitting at the dinning table laughing and talk with my Mum who was busy cooking pancakes. I sat silently at the table and listened to their conversation. Dean really hit it off with my Mum which made last night all the more worse. I knew I was falling for him and hard but if he just intended to leave, head back to the US and pretend I didn't exist then why make a big speech about not letting me out of his sight. Why go out of his way to comfort me so much.

“Okay breakfast is ready” Mum smiled

“Oh this looks amazing Miss y/l/n, thank you” Dean smiled taking the plate of pancakes from my mum and placed them in the middle of the table. The boys began to dig in. This was probably the first home cooked meal they had, had in a long time. The conversation with my mother quickly continued. It was amazing how quickly and convincengly Dean managed to lie to my mother about how we had met, what he brothers did for a living and why they were in Australia. It got me thinking that maybe everything he had told me was a lie. Maybe I needed to be more like Dean and just move on and forget about him once this case was over.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #Sam Winchester x reader #Sam x reader

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larcenywrites · 1 year

Text

The Boy Next Door

Chapter One: Suburbian Introductions

Warnings: she/her term used for reader | immediate thirsting |

Word Count: 3.9K

Masterpost

It was funny how something can look exactly like a memory, but be a new one entirely. The street was just as sun-bleached, once a smooth black, you were sure, but now a weathered grey starting to crack under the heat. Yellowing concrete ran alongside its old friend, separated by a generous strip of grass and backed with stretching lawns. It felt like you had just been here yesterday, except with every home that blurred past your passenger side window, this time you would never spot yours, and every turn only lost you in a maze much larger than the one you left behind. At least it wasn't one of those crowded suburban nightmares- the ones without foliage or even a yard of space between houses. Well, some of these bricks were still close together, but lines of trees provided some sense of seclusion from one another, and faux forests were left undisturbed to span an acre or two here and there. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Even the grass looked greener on this side of the fence.

Or maybe the sodding here was just more expensive.

Really. It wasn't so bad. The damper in your mood was just due to being on the road for the past six hours, and it was only ten in the morning. The rattle of your belongings behind you couldn't quite lull you into sleep anymore, especially when you were so close to, well, home. Instead, you laid your cheek against the cool glass of the car window, but even its rattling couldn't get you any further than staring at the darkness behind your eyelids. Speckles of reds interrupted your personal void, dappling in the shapes of the sunlight as it filtered between leaves and around towering chimneys.

It was irritating, an inconsistent display of colors. Until it was all red. The string of trees that had provided some breakage from the hash morning light betrayed you. You sighed a bit dramatically, opening your eyes. You were met with tree stumps and turned-up dirt. The treeline hadn't ended- well, it had, but not by choice. Even these pristine yards had ugly stumps or unfilled holes, no longer quite as shielded from the road or their neighbors without those firs and oaks. Obviously, the uprooting hadn't been intentional, and it didn't give you very high hopes for your own yard. You could have had a better thought about it than weird, but a name you'd heard a few times now drifted by as the car turned down another street, catching your attention. Fairmount St read in white letters on a tidy green sign. Turns out, home had been right around the corner. The entrance to two short driveways lay next to one another and curled away as they trailed up a hill, each leading to their respective house. Between them was a close pair of mailboxes. The car made its turn, choosing the red one.

"I swear there were still trees there last I was up here," your dad finally spoke up for the first time in a few hours, bringing the car to a slow. You followed his gaze to the space between the two brick houses. The evidence of a rooted-up treeline wasn't as obvious. There wasn't much ugly dirt and holes, but the ground was uneven, and only neighboring psychopaths wouldn't have separated the homes with some greenery to keep those facing windows private.

"Hope we like our neighbors," you snorted. Your dad sighed, digging for that little remote in the center console that opened the garage. With a loud groan, one of the large metal doors began to rise, welcoming your car inside the coolness of the dark and rather cramped room. You'd only been here once a few months ago, being left at the house while your dad dropped off belongings and had furniture hauled whenever he had to come up here for business. You hoped it wouldn't look quite as lifeless as it once did.

Next to the car you sat in was a larger truck, currently blocking your view of the door that let inside. It was your dad's, dark blue and mostly used for his work. With another click of the button, the second door groaned open. As if to follow suit, your father opened his car door, eager to step out. "Okay, let's get these boxes out of here and I'll go get the rest with the truck," he directed before slamming the door shut without further comment. You sat there for a moment longer, but the car shifting and trunk opening were your cues to get out and help. You slid boxes from the low sitting back seat, guiding them straight to the concrete floor and pushing them aside to make room for the next, while your dad had a stack of three piled onto one another. Some of them were unlabeled, but you had made sure to mark your own and were already investigating each box.

"Alright, I'll be right back." The rushed voice of your father called you to attention. "Can you get these inside?"

"Probably," you shrugged, looking at him tiredly. You weren't in as much of a hurry as he was. He snickered. "Good enough." You watched him search his pockets for his keys before rushing to the driver's side of that midnight blue truck.

"Oh, here's a house key," he exclaimed, reaching back into his pocket and holding out a silver key. You walked over to him, taking the key from his hands. As if you had freed him, he hastily walked back and climbed into his seat. You didn't even move as he pulled out of the garage, back on the road again. A newly painted black door now faced you in his absence, four little windows letting you peek in on a tan-colored wall. You quickly worked at the lock, eager to get these boxes inside so you could sit down somewhere much more comfortable than that car. The door creaked as you pushed on it, opening inward. You turned around, back to the job at hand.

You really weren't sure which was which, but something told you to handle the not-so-stable tower under the open garage door. You'd have to move it anyway if you wanted a little more privacy. You tried to shift the boxes to be a little more even, but the lopsided heaviness of the top one only dragged and wavered the stack. As much moving as you'd done, your dad sure wasn't good at packing. You huffed, bracing yourself to slide it off. Nice and easy. You probably shouldn't have pushed toward the heavy side first, only considering it now that it was toppling down top first.

"Dammit," you cursed, hearing it echo against the tall brick wall and through the empty garage. There was hardly any time to cringe at the sound of clinking, a few items scattering through the flaps you'd failed to close back properly earlier this morning when you'd thrown something in. You watched in near horror as your father's small snow globe rolled out, and only gained momentum down the slight incline of your driveway. You couldn't bring yourself to even a brisk walk, instead following far behind and waiting for the raised pavement of the road to stop its rolling one way or another. But something, or rather someone, stepped in-- quite literally. You hadn't noticed you had an audience of one down by the pair of mailboxes until he was lurching into the base of your drive. Your steps faltered, already slow. You weren't afraid to approach, but you had to admit you weren't exactly prepped for any interaction right now. You watched your presumed neighbor bend down, effortlessly catching the snow globe that rolled into his palm. He somehow made standing up look attractive, inspecting the small decor with a few careful flicks of his wrist before his eyes followed its runaway path. His gaze landed on you. With a shameful smile that he was probably too far to even see, you hurried your pace, not wanting to keep him waiting. Mind blank the closer you got, you tried not to look down.

A face straight out of a magazine watched your approach. Actually- was it straight out of a magazine? You swear you might've seen that face staring back at you somewhere, but your strained attention was needed elsewhere. A hand offered its lucky catch to you. You took it tentatively, taking care not to let your fingers bump even though you were probably the only one that would overthink it. The fake snow stirred dizzily in its dome. You could relate, pulse rushing past your warm cheeks and thoughts spinning to sort themselves out enough to decide what to say next.

"Sorry," you meekly apologized for nothing. It was the easiest thing to break the awkward silence, and the easiest word to get out while you fumbled with the contents in your palm (and in your brain). The glass was scuffed from the impact but otherwise unbroken.

"It's fine," a tired tone chuckled a bit awkwardly. It made you look back up at him. You couldn't get a read on his expression, but his lips were parted in an upcoming question. Inquisitive eyes flicked behind you, likely landing on the array of boxes. You took the split seconds opportunity to get an uninterrupted (and unashamed) study of his face again, taking note of the dark honeyed features standing bold against his paler complexion.

"Do you, uh, need any help?" He suddenly spoke up again, his question slow with hesitation. Dark lashes fluttered when he glanced back. He stared down at you, either still with curiosity or concern in his hard-to-read brow. It probably looked like you were out here all alone, to be fair. Well, currently you are alone, and obviously struggling- in more ways than one. You weren't expecting to meet any neighbors at all, much less keep up any interaction. You had to glance away for a moment to come up with an answer that wasn't so flustered.

"Oh, you don't have to. My dad will be back at some point," you trailed off, looking at the pile of boxed-up belongings. Lips still parted in search of a response, you turned back only for him to avoid meeting your gaze this time. The twitch of a frown was subtle, but enough to send a bolt of panic through your chest. Your veiled rejection hurt you just as much, if not more. Not that you didn't want an excuse to keep him around, but sometimes you were too nice for your own good. No, he didn't have to, but god did you want him to, even in your socially stunted state. Moving here was supposed to be full of new opportunities, and here you were, turning down your first one before you even got a chance to know where it could lead. Even if that was nowhere.

"But I guess I should still get everything inside, so," you quickly continued, trying to salvage his offer. Mocha eyes meeting yours again stopped you from blathering further. Especially when they so obviously drifted over your face and quickly dipped lower for further inspection. He backed up a few steps, the opposite of what you had wanted, but you couldn't exactly protest. Luckily you didn't have to. You'd been so tuned in to the voice coming from plush lips and the highlighted features of his face that you didn't even notice the stack of envelopes in his hand. He grabbed the small latch at the top of his mailbox, black and sleek next to your shiny red one, and slid the mail back in for safekeeping.

"I mean, if you're busy, then..." you squeaked out suddenly, a shoulder raised mid-shrug. You weren't exactly sure why you said it. Your brain was receiving mixed signals, and at this point, you were probably giving him mixed signals too. He looked at you as he closed the small door. Your seemingly reserved neighbor wasn't the most expressive, but you could pick up on the amusement in that raised brow and slight the tug at the corner of his lips as he looked you up and down. "Really, I don't mind," he assured you, walking your way and brushing purposefully past you. He looked down at you beckoningly as he did. Though your heart was racing and your gulp was stuck in your throat, you were relieved that he was taking over, leading you back to your own house as if you were the stranger here... well, you were, weren't you? You followed behind, trying not to ignore the warm shiver he'd sent down your spine with something so simple. It was too early for this. You followed after him.

Once again, you took advantage of the opportunity that came with his preoccupied line of sight. He looked lean under that loosely fitted black tee that you were sure wasn't doing him much justice. Fit shoulders hidden under short sleeves cascaded into the curve of his half-visible biceps, and your eyes lingered on a peeking vein. You finally swallowed down that nervous gulp. You'd look away to clear your thoughts, but if you looked up, dark strands of hair curled messily against his neck, and if you looked down- well, let's just say you noticed something in the back pocket of his faded jeans. Your neighbor, who's being very nice right now and doesn't deserve to be part of one of your unhinged wet dreams right now, was undeniably hot. Maybe you'd stick to reading the red lettering that spelled out states and tour dates instead until you reached the garage again.

You carefully picked up the toppled box, sitting it upright and carefully placing your father's snow globe back into its box. You quickly gathered the other knickknacks that had spilled out, cradling them in your arms and trying not to dump them into the box too harshly. You watched your current companion wandering around, taking note of the boxes while he waited for your instruction. You sighed, once again deciding where to start. He must have picked up on it, deciding to pick out the box he'd watched you struggle with earlier, and the one you'd just put that damned globe back into. You were already slacking, watching him lift the box against his chest instead of getting your own. You grabbed the nearest unlabeled box that, thankfully, wasn't as horribly packed. With a huff, you made your way toward the still wide open door. Hopefully the neighbors don't have any wandering cats.

"These can just go in the living room," you chimed, instructing him to follow you. You walked into a boring beige hall that had yet to be adorned with pictures on the walls or decor on the faded blue sofa table. You kept following the stained wooden floors to a maroon-walled kitchen that was just as boring. You kept going a little further, sticking to the beige wall that led to its similarly colored living room, and the hardwood beneath your shoes turned cushier. It was mostly furnished, just as Dad had said. A cream-colored couch on one wall, two dark green recliners in the center shared a small table between them, and all shared a low glass table that sat in front of a large stand for the television. A stone fireplace nestled into the wall opposite the sofa, its barren oak mantel begging to finally be put to use. There was a thump from a box being heavily put to rest on the carpet, and you were just eager to put yours down too. Two down, five to go. Until your dad got home from the storage unit that is... The pair of you grabbed the last two boxes for the living room in silence.

"These three are mine so," you trailed off, but surely the destination was implied. For some very unknown reason, you hesitated to say it, but your silence was excused while you tried not to struggle with yet another box. This time, you led him through the kitchen and down another hall, passing a large office along the way and a closed door that led to your bathroom. It felt longer than it looked. In hindsight, maybe it wasn't the best idea to invite a random guy into your house when your dad was gone, but he seemed harmless enough. Enough to make himself play good samaritan for the day, at least. He may have just been more nosey about who was moving in next door and, more importantly, nosey about their pretty daughter- not that you'd be upset by the latter! Maybe there was a joke to be had here about the awful plots at the beginning of pornos...

You had to shake your head to yourself, sweeping away that thought before it could spiral. Now was definitely not the time for that as you walked into your bedroom. Your room was furnished and bare at the same time. An empty white desk faced the empty wall, and a dresser of the same color had a wall all to itself aside from the standing mirror next to it. Your coverless bed was nestled into an ornate wooden frame that sat between two curtainless windows. A small sofa, similar to the cream color of its larger cousin in the living room, sat on the dresser's opposite wall, your closet by its side. It looked much better now that there was some other colors and objects to even out the pale yellow wallpaper, lined with white columns and roses with connecting stems. When you first saw it, you'd considered scrapping it off and redoing it yourself, but it was growing on you now. Cute in a decade-old kind of way. Maybe it already felt like home, but that was easy when you'd been in a new bedroom a few times before.

With a sigh, you looked over at your still unnamed acquaintance as you put down the heavy contents in your arms. He'd walked past you for more room, lost in his own study as he paused with his own box. The view from your window must have caught his eye. You could only see the thick curls of the back of his head, pretty eyes too busy staring through the panes for a few seconds longer than a simple glance would demand. To be fair, it was probably a little jarring to see your house from, well, another house like this. Especially so close, maybe twenty feet if you had to guess. For some reason, his curiosity made you antsy.

"Dad said there used to be trees there," you broke the silence, capturing his attention again. He started to turn to you, lingering on the view for another second. He lowered his box onto the carpeted floor, looking thoughtful. Actually, he almost looked confused when he looked at you. Like he was processing what you'd even said. His lips were parted in a reply that took a few more seconds.

"Oh- yeah," he started. There was a spark behind his eyes upon finally registering your comment, or from finally tearing out of whatever thoughts he'd been sifting through. "There were um, beetles or something in them." He said it with a soft rise in his tone, like he was stating a question. "They cut down a lot of trees around here, actually." He quickly glanced back to the window as if to prove his point, and what came back was a solemn look. That explains a lot.

"Yeah, I think I saw that on our way in," you thought out loud. "Thought it was pretty weird." You walked under your doorway, waiting for him to join you so you could retreat back to the garage.

"It's pretty ugly, too," he said sarcastically. "We should have planted something else there by now."

"How long has it been?" Your nervousness settled with such a normal conversation that could flow on its own.

"A month, maybe?" He questioned himself. "Honestly, I didn't really think about it until now." He followed you back down the hall that would hopefully be filled with picture frames and decoration by tomorrow night.

"My mom usually takes any opportunity to make something else into her garden," he tagged on fondly. "Maybe she'd even let you choose what to plant there."

You laughed, stepping onto the gray concrete and making your way to the last box sitting next to the car. You would've come up with a reply, but you noticed him eyeing the box at your feet. "I can get this one." You tapped the box with the tip of your shoe. "It's just some plants." You looked back up at him, but he was reading the out-of-state license plate that still had yet to be replaced.

He's an observant one.

"What'd you move up here for?" He asked, meeting your stare with an innocent question in those big brown eyes. They made your pulse flutter again.

"College," you started, hooking your fingers with one another to give yourself something to fumble with. "Um, MIT, actually," you awkwardly chuckled your choice of university. Not that it was a bad university, far from it, and you could tell it piqued a new interest behind those eyes.

"Hey, no way, I go there too," he revealed.

"Really?"

He nodded, humming to match. He crossed his arms, head tilting in cute curiosity and narrowed eyes giving you another once-over. He almost smirked, but it faded when his eyes darted away for a moment. His lips pursed in thought, and to suppress that sneaking grin. There was a shift in the mood and a pep in his stance as he leaned a little closer.

"Maybe I'll show you around sometime," he smoothly offered. That smirk from earlier was sneaking back in to curl at the corner of his lips. His tone was so confident, privileged even, like he was giving you an opportunity. For all you knew, he was. "Around campus, or around the town," he continued with a shurg. "I'd say the neighborhood, but it's not all that interesting," he said the last party quietly like an embarrassing secret with a shake of his head and a teasing grin that grew more with your smile. This sudden shift in demeanor didn't fly over your head, and neither did that suggestion. You already knew that you'd be damned to take him up on his offer, but damned if you didn't. Your teeth dragged over your bottom lip, debating, but it caught another audience in the quick flick of dark eyes. Even with burning cheeks that hopefully weren't noticeable and your tone shy again, you were confident in your answer. "I'd like that."

He accepted your answer without any change in expression other than flicking eyes studying yours, but he did take it as his cue to take his leave. "If you need anything," he trailed off, taking a few steps back. He paused. "I never got your name."

"(Y/N)," you replied without hesitation, smiling giddily at hearing it repeated in that honeyed tone.

"If you need anything, (Y/N), remember I'm right next door." Oh, you'd remember, alright. You realized as he was turning step to leave again that you hadn't thanked him, and you still hadn't learned his name.

"Thanks, uh-"

He turned on his heels, still backing away. "Tony," he spoke his name so proudly, like he had been waiting for you to ask. It was the first smile you'd cracked from him, and hopefully not the last. Smug looked good on him. "Tony Stark."

Previous<- ->Next

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark drabble #tony stark one shot #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fic #iron man #iron man x reader #iron man imagine #iron man drabble #iron man fanfiction #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fic #marvel series #young tony stark #young tony stark x reader

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grapehyasynth · 9 months

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young royals fic throwback, 5/?

i'm (slowly) working my way through the wilmon tag on ao3 and thought that as i go i might shout out some older fics i enjoy along the way! hoping to do a post a week! i've talked folks where i knew their tumblrs, but please let me know and/or tag people if i missed them!

let's start a revolution by huojuvuus - “The Crown Prince says, ‘It is me in the video’,” Ayub reads out loud, and Simon snatches the phone off his hands.

worst kept secret in history by @toffeelemon - Wilhelm is a chaotic anxious queer who just wants to win his boy back

Until Now by paspeurpasseul - Wille and Simon hash out exactly what their relationship is while getting ready to meet Erik.

brighter than by my_little_prongsies - Simon finds himself falling in love with a prince (and learns the ways in which he can help said prince). Wilhelm falls completely and irrevocably for a boy (and stresses about an inordinate amount of things). They find ways to work together (until they don't).

breathe in by rainingover - “What was the fight about?” Simon's eyes are focused now, intense even. ... “The fight that got you sent to Hillerska.”

the weight we carry is love by museraphoria - what could have happened if Wilhelm ended up leaving Hillerska after winter break and didn't speak to Simon for nine years.

make it easy to be near you by waitingstar - Wilhelm toes his shoes off and lines them up just inside the door, trying not to feel any kind of way about the picture they make sitting next to Simon’s worn-in running shoes. This is his first time across the threshold of Simon’s apartment, and he’s adamant that he will not get too ahead of himself.

Flew like a moth to you (sunlight) by @aro-of-artemis - Wille makes a different choice while sitting on that piano bench.

#yr fic rec

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

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I’m still here - part v - eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: a reunion, of sorts, and yet another plan.

warnings: fluff, smut, unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit folks), oral (f receiving), mentions of canon-typical violence, my half-assed version of vampirism, blood-drinking and biting (nothin major but still)

a/n: honestly I struggled with this part but I’m finally happy with the result! we got one more part and it will be the longest one yet I think. I’ve enjoyed writing this so so so so so much!!

| series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 |

You weren’t lying. It doesn’t scare you.

The fangs are the least of your worries, in the grand scheme of things. You meant what you said; you don’t care how long it took, or what it took. All that matters is him.

Your vampire boyfriend.

You have to stop yourself from laughing aloud at the thought, your hand still wrapped in Eddie’s, the pair of you now in your car, parked at the edge of Lover’s Lake. He pointed to the far side of the lake, where Skull Rock stands. “I hid there for a while,” Eddie told you, “when shit was hitting the fan. No one came anywhere close to finding me.”

You’d tried to make a joke: “You wanna go there? Take me out to the middle of nowhere where no one can hear me scream?”

His face had gone dark. “I don’t…I wouldn’t…” He’d stared into his lap, ringed finger twisted together. “If this scares you, baby, then we’re not going anywhere. I don’t care who sees me.”

“Eddie, I was kidding,” you said, trying to backtrack. “You don’t scare me. I trust you.” You squeezed his hand for emphasis. “I love you.”

He softened slightly, pulling you under his arm and slinging his arm around your neck, pressing his lips to your hair. “Love you too, baby.”

He’s relaxed more as you continue to talk, and as the moon and stars start to appear, Eddie starts to open up even more. He tells you everything, from the moment Chrissy started to lift off the ground to the moment he knew he was dying. You hang off his every word, every detail, asking questions when you feel like you’re missing something, interjecting with something Dustin had told you when it’s called for. Most of it still makes no sense and even after weeks of hashing and rehashing, Dustin providing complicated explanations and Steve providing versions that you almost understand, you’re still playing catch-up. The upside, though, is that Eddie is too, still reeling from everything that happened, still trying to wrap his brain around the insanity of it all.

You tell him what happened with your parents, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this mad. “I can’t believe they’d just leave you,” he spits, “and then sell the house? What if you had no where else to go?”

“I think they hoped it would make me go with them,” you shrug, picking at a sticker on the radio. “It doesn’t matter. I like the trailer.”

“Even with the gateway to hell on the living room ceiling?”

You scoff. “Okay, I like your room at the trailer.”

“My room?” he says. “I’d say it’s more like our room now, yeah?”

It’s funny, the way the words make your heart stutter. Ours. Eddie lets go of your hand to change the radio station, twisting the knob until he finds a station playing Iron Maiden. You just watch, feeling your blood heat as you stare at his fingers.

He looks…the same, but also different. Besides the obvious fangs, he still looks mostly like he did. The scars are a new addition as well, of course, and some of them are pretty obvious, but others, you wouldn’t notice unless you actually looked for them. His skin is colder, too, you’ve discovered, but not alarmingly so, just cooler than you’re used to. The eyes are the same, the hair, the devil-may-care curve to his grin.

He walks a little differently, you notice. He moves more easily, his steps less calculated and carried out with ease, more fluid. And his voice, there’s something deeper to it, the tone inviting beyond belief, leaving you desperate for more at the end of every sentence.

It’s not long before you’re both sprawled in the backseat.

Eddie shrugs out of his jacket and your breath gets caught in your throat. He still wears the Hellfire Club baseball tee, the fabric ripped to shit all over his abdomen, revealing strips of scarred skin and flashes of tattoos. He lets the jacket fall onto the floor of the car, and his eyes dart over to you before he’s reaching back and hooking his fingers in his collar, pulling the shirt over his head.

Your gasp is audible, and Eddie’s eyes meet yours as he balls the fabric in his hands, letting it join the jacket. You slide closer to him, until there’s almost no space between you. He just watches you as you move, frozen in place, hands curling into the edge of the seat.

“You really aren’t scared of me,” he says, his voice almost reverent as you reach a hand out slowly, “are you?”

You can’t find the words, but you shake your head, fingers twitching as they make contact with his skin. The scars are ridged and textured, so different from the smooth skin that surrounds them. The tattoo that once danced along his ribs has been marred almost completely, the black ink torn in places, appearing in splotches in the large scar on his side. He turns into the touch, shifting to face you, and shivers as your other hand joins in, moving up his arm, starting at his wrist and going up slowly. Forearm, bicep, shoulder, until you reach his collar. He shivers again.

“Does it hurt?” you ask.

Eddie shakes his head, corner of his mouth quirking up and revealing one fang. “Sensitive though.” Your hand moves over his collarbone until it’s settled in the middle of his chest.

“No heartbeat,” you murmur, waiting for the familiar thump against your palm, but it never comes. You’re gonna miss that, you already know, the way his heart would pick up when things started to get heated, the way you could feel his pulse race when you kissed his neck.

“Nope,” he replies, one hand covering your own. His fingers curl around yours, thumb swiping across your knuckles. “God, I missed touching you.” His other hand reaches for your hip, not pulling you against him — not yet — but just holding you. Keeping you within reach.

“Then touch more of me,” you say, your words bold and making your face heat. Eddie just stares back at you, dark eyes flaring. You pull away from him just enough to shrug out of his vest, tossing it towards the trunk of the car before pulling his hoodie over your head. Your t-shirt gets stuck as you do, and you end up twisted in the material, arms sticking up straight. “Shit,” you groan, Eddie laughing as he reaches for you, pulling the fabric all the way off of you. “That was way sexier in my head.”

“I don’t think you could be any sexier,” Eddie grins, both fangs poking through, and it’s then that you both realize: you’re not wearing a bra.

It’s warm in the car, your body heat not yet fogging up the windows and the night breeze doing something to ebb it. But Eddie’s gaze has goosebumps rising on your skin. You toy with the chain at your neck, his ring and guitar pick settling against your sternum. His hand returns to your hip, palm now sprawled across your skin.

“Not just sexy,” he says softly, tilting his head to the side and leaning in. You can feel his breath on your face — breaths he doesn’t need, he’s explained — and your hands come to rest on his ribs as he reaches out and pushes a strand of hair from your face. “Beautiful.” He inhales deeply, eyes fluttering shut. His knuckle slides beneath your chin, tilting your head back. “Intoxicating.” His face presses against your neck, lips at your pulse, and you can just feel the press of fangs, but he doesn’t break skin. “You have no idea how good you smell.”

He kisses your pulse, and you lean into his grip. “You could do it, if you wanted to,” you say, not entirely sure where the words are coming from, but your earlier boldness returning. “Bite me.”

“There are a lot of things I’m thinking about doing to you right now, sweetheart,” he responds, grin in his voice and hips pushing into yours. You feel his tongue drag up your throat. “But biting you is pretty low on the list.”

“And what’s at the top?”

By way of answer, he pushes you back against the seat, adjusting you with ease. You gasp, legs widening to make space for him, and he reaches for one ankle, pulling your sneaker off and your sock, setting them to the side before turning and removing the other. “I have a theory,” he says, hands reaching for your waist, deftly undoing the button on your jeans, “and I wanna test it.”

“What’s the theory?” you stutter out, lifting your hips when he hooks his fingers in your belt loops and tugs. Your underwear goes with your jeans, and in an instant, you’re completely bare for him. He leans over you then, planting a hand on either side of you, and you sigh when he leans in and gives you a gentle kiss. It moves quickly to your jaw, then down to your neck, and his tongue dips into the hollow of your throat before he’s moving down further, ringed fingers plucking at one nipple while he scrapes his teeth over the other. You grip his shoulders, your back arching up into his touch, and Eddie grins, mouthing along the curve of your breast while he moves a hand to curl around your thigh.

“You tasted like heaven to me before,” he says, his voice a low rasp. “I have a feeling you’ll taste even better now.”

He sits up, taking your ankle in his hand and lifting it so your leg rests on his shoulder. He kisses the inside of your calf, drags his tongue up along your muscle, dotting your skin with kisses all the way up to your knee, further up your thigh, right into the spot where your leg meets your hips.

You’re squirming beneath him, hips lifting of their own accord. You’re dripping, and you know it, the need rising in your blood. How long has it been since he touched you like this?

“Oh,” he murmurs into your thigh, grinning into the thin skin. “There’s something else.”

“Huh?” you mumble, your head already light from the attention he’s giving you, swirling with the intensity that’s simmering beneath both your surfaces.

I can talk to you like this, too.

The words are spoken into your mind just as his tongue meets your clit, swirling around the bud before dipping lower. It’s insane, how perfectly clear his voice is in your head, like he’s talking to you, but he’s not. He lifts your other leg, both settling around his ears, hands curled around your thighs.

Fuck, he groans into your head, and when you chance a glance down, his eyes are rolling back in his head. You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. Even better than I imagined.

You thought he was good at eating your pussy before, but this is another level. It feels like he’s everywhere all at once, each of your nerves reacting tenfold to each touch, lick, nip.

Palms sliding to your hips, he pulls you closer to his mouth, tongue diving ridiculously deep. You wince when you feel the bite of fangs, shoulders pressing against the hard earth as you dive a hand into his hair. Then he sucks, and it’s the oddest feeling, but pleasurable as all hell, his nails digging into your skin.

Oh my fucking god. It’s so clear, like he’s saying the words out loud. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Eddie?

He’s pulling away in an instant, shifting backwards away from you until his back is pressed against the car door, lifting a hand to cover his mouth. There’s a tinge of red on his lips, a single drop sliding down his chin. Shit. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckingfuck. He turns away from you.

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

He speaks the words audibly, the voice in your head fading, along with the strange phantom touch of him in your brain. “Eddie, it’s okay,” you say, reaching for the hoodie, covering your chest with it as you sit up. The air feels colder. “Eds, you didn’t hurt me.”

Both hands covering his face, he turns back to you. He just stares, and you stare right back.

“Eddie, it’s okay.”

No.

Eddie.

It’s a strange feeling, talking back to him like this, like a phone connection left open, no dial tone to interrupt you, the airwaves carrying your voice from your own head to his, and back again.

I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t trust myself.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you say out loud, pulling your knees to your chest, “and I trust you. Come back here.” You reach out, curling your fingers in the chain still hanging from his jeans and tugging on it. “Eds, please.” Your voice cracks without you meaning to. “I just got you back.”

He scrambles across to you almost instantly, grabbing you up in his arms and pulling you into his lap. You toss the hoodie aside again, your bare chest pressed to his, and brace your knees either side of his hips, settling against him. You gather his hair in your hands, holding it away from his face in a makeshift ponytail. “M’sorry,” he murmurs, those dark eyes going shiny, and you just shake your head.

You angle your head, leaning in to kiss the scar under his jaw, a tiny grin tugging at your lips when he groans and falls back into your touch. He’s hard beneath you, straining against the fly of his jeans, and the moans get louder when you roll your hips into his. “Just got you back,” you say again, your voice dropping this time. “Don’t wanna let you go.”

Don’t wanna let you go either. His hands slide up your back, spanning your ribs and fingertips tapping along your spine. Not ever.

“I wanna feel you, Eds,” you say softly, your chest heaving, dragging against his. “I need to. Please.” He opens his mouth but you press a finger to his lips. “Fuck me, please. You won’t hurt me, I know you won’t.”

He blinks slowly, chewing at the inside of his cheek, and you find that spark of boldness, leaning in to kiss his scarred neck once more.

“Or let me fuck you.”

One brow raises slowly, and you feel him twitch beneath you. Are you sure?

There’s nothing else I’m more sure of.

You kiss him slow, nails scratching his scalp. There’s the scrape of his canines against your lips, but it only spurs you on, tugging at his hair as he returns the kiss. You roll your hips into his again, gasping at the feeling of denim and the ridge of his stomach against your bare core. He presses one palm to the small of your back, urging you up onto your knees while he reaches for his belt with his other hand. You just keep kissing him, moaning into his mouth once he frees himself, dragging his cock through your folds, drenched in your slick in a matter of moments.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper, and the words drag into a gasp as he presses into you, the hand at your back pushing you down, filling you completely, the feeling overwhelming.

I missed you too.

Eddie smiles against your lips, but you can tell he’s holding back, fingers twitching against your skin. Slowly, you release his hair, bracing your hands on the back of the seat as you grind into him, denim still biting into your ass, but you don’t care. Your head drops on your shoulders, face pressing into his neck, and you just keep moving. Eddie grunts, panting in your ear as his hands find your hips again, guiding you through your movements, gripping so tight you wonder if there’ll be bruises tomorrow, secretly hoping there will be.

God, you feel amazing.

You can’t stifle your grin, nipping at his throat as you lift up, almost all the way off of him, before slamming your hips back into his, earning a deep groan that rumbles through his chest. He tilts his head back against the seat, baring his throat to you, and you strike, sinking your teeth into his neck while your hips keep rolling, pulling the pleasure out of both of you. The pace is almost punishing, the way he guides you along his length, starting to cant his hips upwards into yours and making sparks of pleasure burst in your vision.

You keep your lips closed around his throat, sucking and nipping as he moans above you. You wonder idly if it’ll actually bruise, if there’ll be any remnants of your attack, or if his pale throat will remain bare. Meanwhile, you know for sure now there’ll be fingerprint bruises on your hips as he grips you tighter, pulling you impossibly close. His head tilts forward, cheek pressed to your temple and you inhale as he releases one hip to reach between you.

Come on, baby. Even the voice in your head is raspy, high-strung with pleasure. I wanna feel you.

It doesn’t take much more, the cool tips of his fingers circling your clit a handful of times before you’re clenching hard, bearing down on his cock as much as possible, your back arching. You rip your head from his throat, and he catches it with his other hand, your hips free to move without his guiding hand. Eddie winds your hand through his fingers, pulling your face to his in a bruising kiss while fireworks explode against your closed eyelids.

It’s insane.

He follows shortly after you, groaning loudly into the bruising kiss as your hips continue to grind down into his, chasing the feeling as long as possible. You can’t stop, just going and going and going until your body gives out, slumping into him, and Eddie holds you softly, pulling the hair from your sweaty neck and dragging his fingers down your spine.

“Holy shit, baby,” he rasps out loud, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That was fucking wild.”

You just hold onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders. You can’t bring yourself to let go.

“I don’t fucking believe it.”

Steve is just staring at Eddie, who’s grinning back. Dustin is bubbling with excitement beside Steve, the broadest metal grin you’ve ever seen on the kid’s face, practically bouncing off the couch with excitement. Robin, on the other side of Dustin, has an expression similar to Steve’s: utter disbelief.

“You were dead,” Robin says matter-of-factly, pressing her palms together and gesturing towards Eddie. “Dead as in…dead dead.”

Steve is pulling at his bottom lip, shaking his head slightly. “Not that we checked for a pulse,” he says, “but Henderson was certain you were gone and we…” Something flickers in his face, and he looks almost guilty. “We left you there.”

“No hard feelings,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I woulda done the same thing.”

You’re standing in the Harrington’s mostly empty house. Steve’s parents are gone, as per usual, and while you’ve been hiding Eddie at the trailer for the last week, there’s only so much sneaking around you can do before Wayne gets suspicious. Your dinners with the elder Munson have become a regular occurrence, and you don’t think you can handle letting him down again. So, after a phone call that you had to cut short after Steve shouted “what the fuck?” for the tenth time, Eddie is now hiding in their basement, planning to sneak out at night to…hunt in the forest, and keep out of sight.

Eddie had explained things as best he could. There are still some details that don’t quite add up — for instance, why he’s not completely feral and trying to kill everyone in sight, a stereotype you’re grateful hasn’t come true. You can see the wheels in Dustin’s head spinning as soon as Eddie starts to talk, trying to come up with some sort of logical explanation for your boyfriend’s rise from the dead.

“Maybe there doesn’t have to be a good explanation,” Dustin says after a while, obviously frustrated with the lack of rational steps from what happened in the Upside Down to the present. He points at Eddie. “Obviously we’re all glad you’re alive, but there’s one thing we haven’t discussed.” All eyes are on Henderson, and his smile starts to fade. “You can’t stay in Hawkins. Everyone thinks you’re dead, and if they find out that you’re not, then we’re right back to square one.”

“Hunt the freak,” Eddie says softly, and you reach for his hand, fingers wrapping around his wrist and squeezing. He turns his head to look at you, brown eyes big and shining. “I’m not leaving without you.”

You almost laugh. “Like I’d let you go without me.” You squeeze his hand again. “There’s always Chicago.”

Eddie just nods, leans in, and kisses your cheek. “Chicago.”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Robin says, leaning her elbows on her knees, face in her hands. “Like, I’m moments away from barfing.”

The plan is hatched quickly: Eddie will wait at Steve’s, and you’ll go gather your things (and Eddie’s) from the trailer, and say goodbye to Wayne. It’ll be a half-assed excuse, that your parents are forcing you to leave Hawkins for good, that they’re threatening to call the cops if you don’t haul ass immediately. You know it’s gonna break his heart, never mind leave him completely alone in Hawkins, but it has to be done, and Dustin’s promised to keep an eye out when he can.

“I can’t put this on him,” Eddie said when you suggested he come with you, that he say goodbye to Wayne for real. “It’s better, this way. Thinking I’m dead and gone for good. He’s been through enough as it is, he doesn’t need…” He trailed off, gestured to himself. “Whatever this is.”

There was more to it than that, you knew, but the look in his eyes stopped you from asking.

Once the car is packed, you’re just a gas station away from the open road, Chicago, and your life together. Sure, there’s still a million more things to figure out — does this mean Eddie is gonna live forever? What does it mean for you? Do you want to be like him? — but you’ll have time enough to figure it all out once you’re out of Hawkins.

Eddie kisses you goodbye when you leave, and pushes a folded envelope into your hands. “Give this to Wayne, will you?”

You nod, kiss his cheek. “Of course.”

You should have been here an hour ago.

Henderson was insistent you plan things down to the minute, leaving under cover of night to lower the chances of Eddie being spotted in your car. You’d radioed when you were leaving the trailer, heading back to Harrington’s house, and Eddie is getting antsy. It’s not that far from the trailer park. You should’ve been here by now.

Where are you? He pushes the thought outward, trying to catch the now-familiar feeling of your mind with his own. What’s going on?

He’s been pacing the living room floor since you left, Dustin on the couch in front of him, Steve half asleep at the kitchen table. There’s a knock at the door, and they all jump, Eddie staring towards it as Dustin gets up to answer it. He has a half a mind to hide, Dustin giving him a wary look as he walks towards the door.

Something’s not right.

Robin’s on the other side of the door, breathless and red-eyed. She barrels into the house, nearly toppling over as she goes. She nearly sobs the words, running to Eddie and gripping his shoulders.

“There’s been an accident.”

—————

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eddie munson tags: @trickstersp8 @nightthou @bluestuesday @a-hopeless-fan @billyhargrovesprincess @h-ness1944 @princessbby3002 @detectivecarisi-1 @kbakery

tags just becuz: @peterparkers-girlfriend @ruhro7 @steadyasthe-flowers @pedropascalsx @pintsizemama @charliecoccix @mindidjarin @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @1800-fight-me @simple-lovebot @itwasthereaminuteago @quadruplescorpio @eddiesloversstuff @effinhell @indulginginmydailydoseofdepresso @dazedrhapsody @deliciousdreamlandlady @pandawithprobs @ajokeformur-ray

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things #my fics #i’m still here #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

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