#last week I left early but it was no use and rain was against me too so I ran into 4 accidents on the way there so it's just lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thisismeracing · 10 months

Text

Banana pancakes | MS47

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!reader (she/her) ― Word count: 1.2k ― Warnings: not proofread; mentions of food, rain, and childhood memories (it's a small paragraph of the reader talking about her parents in a healthy way, but it may be a trigger to someone, so I'm adding it here); ― Summary: Mick is used to racing cars and living at high speed, but lazy rainy mornings with you are his favorite. Cuddling in bed, making banana pancakes, and listening to the rain fall down while swinging together on the front porch, no travel or circuit beats these moments. ― A/n: I actually liked this far better than I thought I would, so I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let me know your thoughts by reblogging and/or leaving me an ask (anons are on) *mwah* 🤍

⁕ Based on this request. ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece)

The sound of the heavy rain falling against the window and the cold space where once was Mick’s body woke Yn up. She stretched her arms just to make sure he wasn’t by the edge of the bed like he did sometimes when dreaming. Some days he would move closer, others farther, it all depended on what kind of dream he was having and how tired he was. This morning though, Yn couldn’t find him, not even when she opened her eyes and scanned the whole room.

She yawned and huffed before moving to the bathroom to get the day started. When she came out of the room, wearing one of his hoodies, bare feet hitting the cold ground, she could hear the low murmur coming from the kitchen. The smell of coffee and pancakes laced her stomach, and Yn smiled, propping her body on the doorframe.

Mick was distracted, humming to a song from their Lazy Mornings playlist, while Angie was lying by the counter, peacefully snoring. He was in the process of adding another batch of pancakes to the pan when Yn walked to him hugging his waist from behind.

“Why didn’t you wake me up, babe?” She murmured against the naked skin of his back, littering small kisses there.

Mick left the bowl on the counter and turned to place a proper kiss on Yn’s pouty lips. She sighed and relaxed with how he held her. His gray sweats were hanging low on his hips, and he was barefoot too, but he still felt warm and cuddly.

“You needed the extra rest,” he kissed each of her eyelids before adding, “and I wanted to make you banana pancakes.” Yn had told him the night prior how she was craving the pancakes she used to eat every morning a while ago, and Mick took the opportunity to pamper her a bit. He was used to the rushing pace of racing weeks, waking up early, spending the whole day and night busy with something, and then running against the clock to wake up early again and run again, and again, and again. So when life slowed down, and he had a break here and there, his body still would wake up early, though his mind was able to relax and decelerate.

Yn got on her tiptoes once again and left one last peck on his pink lips before walking to the counter to start setting aside the rest of the breakfast.

They worked around the kitchen together, the sounds from the frying from the stove, the humming from the coffee machine, the low singing from their shared playlist, and the rain hitting the windows coming together to create the perfect symphony.

Once everything was ready, they sat side by side at the table, Yn’s legs over Mick’s thighs. They ate like this, close to each other, peacefully listening to some of the natural sounds the earth could create. Angie would round them every once in a while looking for a bite of human food, to which Mick would deny, but give up after her persistent doe eyes.

“We should sit by the porch to watch the rain,” Yn suggested after both of them were finished. She didn’t move to stand though, and Mick smiled, still tracing patterns on the skin of her naked legs.

“You’ll need to put some sweats on. The wind may be a bit cold.”

“You could just warm me up then,” she shrugged before chuckling and running to the bedroom.

When she came down, Mick had already cleaned the table and started the washing machine. Yn handed him his grey hoodie in exchange for a cup of hot cocoa. Mick put on the piece of clothing, before grabbing his coffee mug with one hand and lacing Yn’s fingers with the free one. She stopped to pet Angie and set the dog on her bed on the way to the back door, and then just like that they were outside. The smell of rain and wetland engulfs the whole space, and for a second it felt like walking in an open art exposition with all the green trees and flowers surrounding the perimeter.

Mick sat down on the big wooden swing, and Yn snuggled closer to his side, her legs on top of his, while his arm held her close. He moved the swing lightly before letting his feet hang. They enjoyed the taste of their beverages and the warmth of the other in silence.

It was good to appreciate life like this every once in a while. To watch how some trees would bend but never break, how others would let some leaves go, and how some seemed to enjoy the pouring rain getting greener and shinier with every second.

“I love the rain,” Yn whispered in thought, and Mick hummed, turning his head to look at her and planting a kiss on her forehead.

“And I love you.”

She shifted and held Mick’s jaw, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. He hummed in appreciation and gave the perfect space for her tongue to explore his, the coffee and cocoa getting colder in their hands.

Yn declared her love back in a low tone, as if it was their secret and as if the trees were watching.

“Why do you love the rain? We never really had a deep conversation on the topic,” Mick asked after some time, sipping his lukewarm coffee.

Yn frowned and gave him her best defiant grin. “How do you know there’s a deeper meaning behind my affection for the rain?”

“Because I know you,” he stated simply, and she huffed, smiling.

“Fair enough,” she took a sip of her drink, holding it with her two hands in an attempt to wash away the cold. “The small raindrops can take away anything if only they’re persistent enough.”

Mick nodded and kept watching her, knowing Yn was not done with her explanation. “It’s not about hard rain, but persistent rain. When I was a kid, I drew on the outside of my house using markers. Only later I realized it wouldn’t go away rubbing it, so I went crying to my parents. My dad was a bit annoyed, but my mom just looked up at the sky and told me the rain was coming, to which my dad answered that it wasn’t heavy rain, not a storm. But Mom assured us that constant rain was far better than heavy rain in that case. When we woke up the next day, after hours of regular rain, the wall was actually clean. Of course, I only started to think about it as a metaphor when I was older, but yeah, I like the idea of constant things far better than heavy ones. A constant can be just as intense, and it brings you warmth, makes you feel safe, secure, at home.”

“I had no idea love and rain had so much in common,” Mick confesses, and Yn nods.

“Yeah, you’re like constant rain to me. You make me banana pancakes even when I didn't openly ask for them, you keep me warm, make me feel at home, and love me. It’s nice to experience it beside you.”

The blonde grins, setting their cups aside and bringing Yn to his lap. They sigh, lacing their bodies together in a tender hug, feeling warm, safe, secure, at home, and watching the rain fall outside their porch.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Don't forget to water a plant and water this account too (you water this account by reblogging and leaving me a message if you're comfortable, it means a lot to me, and makes my imagination bloom just like a flower would) *forehead kiss*

taglist: @sachaa-ff @kenanlotus0 @dalsuwaha @mellowpizzapuppy @mickslover @crimeshowjunkie @iloveyou3000morgan @formulakay3 @carojasmin2204 @mishaandthebrits @saintslewis @fdl305 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @babyiscrying @balekane_mohafe @uuuseeerrr12 @karmabyfernando

⁕ my masterlist and my taglist

#ms47 #mick schumacher #millie writes #mick schumacher imagines #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fanfic #f1 x reader #mick schumacher x you #f1 fluff #mick schumacher fluff #f1 x you #formula one imagine

547 notes · View notes

dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 2 months

Text

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 1

I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who showed love towards the prologue and the memes I made, I've ended up gaining more followers in the last week than I have in the last couple years lol. Unfortunately Alastor isn't going to make an appearance for at least two chapters, but I hope you like what I've written so far. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 5278

Warnings: Period-typical racism and sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 >

PART 1: Chapter 1

Congrats! You're Adopted

Impluvius (Definition): Soaked with rain. (Adjective)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Tuesday, 11th June, 1929.

Arriving on your Aunt’s doorstep soaked to the bone in the middle of a hurricane was the last thing on your list of ‘crazy crap that could happen’. But alas, here you were, shivering and seething as you hauled your trunks up the steps to the front door. You were lucky enough that the area was only being battered by the edge of the storm, allowing you to find a sleeper train that was still willing to run from Montgomery to New Orleans, but it had left you in a sour mood when they had revoked their food services, because damn you were in the mood for a simple ham and cheese sandwich. And the mood only had to sour further when you found yourself standing outside the station for a good fifteen minutes waiting for a driver whilst you and your belongings were drowned by the ongoing summer downpour. Sure, you were used to the torrential downpour of the Yorkshire moors, where there were more wet days than dry, but you were prepared for that, not for the barbarous battering of the 70mph winds that forced you to stuff your useless hat away, leaving the once neat updo of hair that you had meticulously styled that morning to whip you in the eye whenever a gale flew past.

And, as if the gods had something out for you, the taxi that pulled up decided it would be hilarious to speed to a stop in the middle of the giant puddle that had accumulated next to the pavement, sending out a small wave that reached your ankles, soaking your frilly socks and favourite patterned heeled oxford shoes that your mother had gifted on your 18th birthday.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” You hissed to yourself, lifting your foot to inspect the leather. The driver was lucky that they were already three years old, otherwise you would’ve given him a glare deathly enough to send him to an early grave. Or so you hoped.

Thankfully, the driver didn’t pay you much attention, clearly too tired for small talk, simply asking for an address. Though he had paused when you spoke, turning to eye you up and down where you were cramped uncomfortably between your luggage in the back seat, grunting out a “You English?”, to which you nodded, muttering that you were visiting your aunt. The drive was silent after that, the only sound being the loud sputtering engine and the rain that pounded against the windshield. Minutes passed and you were quickly outside the house, which led to now: trembling in your boots, rapping your knuckle against the green wooden door with wet hair clinging to your face and eyebags that could rival a chronic insomniac.

It wasn’t long until the sound of locks clicking and unlatching reached your ears, and the door creaked open, an eye peeking through the gap. After it landed on you, it quickly swung open, revealing your Aunt Agnes in a nightgown and robe, with an oil lantern in hand. At the sight of her, you gave a half-wave and shaky smile.

She gasped your name. “Oh, there you are my lovely! I thought you got lost in the storm!” Realising the state you were in, she hurriedly placed the lantern on the hallway cabinet, rushing out to help you haul your luggage in. “I was so worried your train had been cancelled by the hurricane. Here, get yourself out the cold – you can put your coat to dry by the fire.” She handed you your leather duffel bag before crouching down and lugging the largest trunk into her arms with a grunt. Making sure everything was in the hallway, she went to close the door, though you didn’t miss the wary scan she took of the street, or the diligent focus of making sure every lock and chain was in place. The wariness soon disappeared, however, as she spun around to face with a grin, her thick braid of long, brown hair whipping over her shoulder.

Giggling as she bounded over, she wrapped you up in a strong hug, and you reciprocated with matching eagerness, but also trying your best not to cringe at the squelching noises your waterlogged coat made.

“It’s so nice to see you!” You said exhausted as you released her, teeth still chattering from the chill. “The rooves were practically coming off in Montgomery, so I’m surprised they were willing to keep the trains running.”

“Well there’s no need to worry about that any more, you’re here now! Come, I must get you warmed up.” she asserted warmly, leading you with a hand rubbing against your back, down the hallway into the kitchen. Rummaging through a wicker basket, she pulled out a spare nightgown. “Go see if your spare underwear is dry, then head to the bathroom across the hall and change into this. I’ll go make you some warm milk and honey.”

Thanking her, you quickly made your way into the living room where your belongings had been left, unlatching the clasps of the trunk to reveal your damp clothing. Luckily, there was some underwear in the middle that had not yet been affected, so you grabbed them and returned to the hallway to try and find the bathroom.

After several failed attempts of opening the wrong doors, you finally came across the bathroom, eagerly shedding yourself of your dripping wet layers, welcoming the warmth of the soft, dry underwear and ivory coloured nightgown. Returning to the living room, you dumped your wet clothes on your trunk, before walking around the sofa. Planting your behind in the armchair closest to the fire, you melted into the cushions with a relieved sigh, sticking your feet out in front of the flames to try and get some feeling back in your toes.

It wasn’t long before the clinking from the kitchen ceased, and your Aunt came back through, meticulously balancing a wooden tray with two large steaming mugs sat on top. Placing them down, she handed you the one covered in purple flowers. Thanking her, you instantly took a sip, letting the sweet honey and heated milk warm your insides as you watched your aunt take a seat in her own well-loved armchair.

“Sooo,” she began with a knowing grin whilst tossing you a crocheted blanket. “How’s America been so far for you?”

You scrunched your face in thought. “…Surprisingly not as bad as I thought. I think Great-Auntie Beatrice had influenced my opinion a bit too much growing up.”

Agnes rolled her eyes. “A bit?? That old woman has despised the country since that American lad up and left her back in the 1870’s.”

You snorted over your mug. “Well, she certainly has taught me to not raise my expectations about the place, but, I’ve got to say it has allowed me to be more impressed by what I see – especially the Appalachian mountains, they’ve definitely got a unique charm to them. Thank you, by the way, for letting me use your cabin up there.”

She waved you off. “Oh, it’s no problem, really. I would give you the place if the twins weren’t so keen on going up there.”

“Speaking of the twins, how are the three of you doing?” you asked.

Agnes let a weary smile cross her face. “We’re doing better, now anyways. The twins had some issues when starting school here – starting fresh at 16 in a completely different country certainly has its cons. It’s died down now, but in the first few months they were followed home by some kids who would taunt them for the way they spoke. Hell,” she laughed in disbelief. “they even had a teacher who thought they were Scottish for the first three weeks until I came in for a meeting about their grades and spent ten minutes explaining to her that not everyone in England speaks the same way as those pompous Londoners who squeal at the slightest bit of mud on their shoes.”

“What?!!” you guffawed, trying to stifle a laugh. “Please tell me they at least beat some of the kids up.”

“I wish.” Agnes sighed, sinking back in her chair. “But I don’t want anymore attention on them than they already have. Anything else and those kids will go looking for dirt on them and the last thing I want is for them to find out who their father is.”

You looked up at her in surprise. “You don’t??” you asked, perplexed.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Agnes said sternly. “I loved their father to the ends of the universe and back, but the two of them being mixed English-Japanese will garner the wrong type of attention here. God forbid, if it gets out their mum’s a pagan witch it’ll be the end of peace!” She vented, throwing her arms up in frustration.

You pondered her words for a moment. “But I thought New Orleans was considered a safer place for things like witchcraft? Isn’t voodoo a popular religion and practice here?”

“It is, but it’s still kept more on the down-low. When you have a religion originating from a place like Africa, white Christians can get reeeaallll iffy about it, and it’s no different here – I believe there’s laws in place against parts of the practice.” She explained. “But it doesn’t stop them from keeping their shops open. Our neighbour Neliah runs a gorgeous corner shop near the outskirts – I can’t and won’t practice voodoo, but I do treat myself with a visit whenever I need new herbs, I could literally fall asleep in there with the lovely way it smells.” You smiled at the way she seemed to get lost in thought, though she quickly snapped herself out of it. “But anyway! How’s my sister doing? How did Emmett react with the news?”

You startled slightly at the sudden change. “Yea, mum’s actually doing alright. Dad… took a while to get his head around what was going on, you know, when he found her Grimoire and spell books, and the fact that we’d been hiding it from him for years, but he’s surprisingly calmed down about it. They still go to church, to keep up their reputation and all that, but he’s letting her hang up protection wards around the house, he even got involved with casting a spell with us at one point, even though he had no clue what he was doing the whole time.” You snorted, memories of your father’s wide eyes as he watched your mother wave a stick of incense around him, reminding you of the time when you were around six, you had returned from the forest by your house, covered in mud and brandishing stick-swords, declaring yourself as the deer queen as you dragged a shedded antler you had found among the moss through the back door – the look on your father’s face when he walked in from work to see you tying pink ribbons along the muddy, moss-covered bone was priceless.

Agnes let out a chortle, before sipping at her drink, her expression shifting slightly to one of mild concern. “And uh, how did they react when you were – ah – found out?”

Right, the whole reason you were here in the first place. “Not the greatest.” You said dejectedly. “Mum was distraught when they said they were thinking of taking me away – calling them every name under the sun the second they said ‘asylum’. So when dad suggested coming here, she jumped at the chance, but was crying the whole drive to the docks. I gave them an itinerary of where I was going to be and when, and they’ve been using it to send me letters and gifts, but it’s been hard being fully alone for the first time in my life.” You sank into your chair, tears building in your eyes the longer you spoke.

Agnes looked you up and down, her eyes filled with sorrow for you. “Well,” she began softly, standing up to approach you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “you're not alone anymore, so you can forget about those stupid government officials and your, uh,” she squinted her eyes in confusion. “what do they call it?”

“Over action of the mind.” You forced out with a huff. “They don’t have an official name for it, but me being fidgety and forgetful is enough for them to call me insane apparently.”

She held her hand out for you to take, which you did, allowing her to pull you up. She said your name sternly. “You are not insane. You’re the loveliest, most intelligent girl I know – especially considering the amount of books you’ve read in your 21 years.” You gave her a small smile as thanks. “Now, I’ve readied your bedroom for you. It’s a little bare, but you're staying a while so I’ve left it to be up to your imagination, and with how fast your mind goes a minute, I’m sure you’ll make it the most fantastical and extravagant room in New Orleans.” She explained as she helped you pick up your luggage, leading you through the hallway and up the stairs.

Walking down the main upper hallway, you followed her down a second one to the left, until you came to a stop on the first door on the left side. Lowering her voice to a whisper, Agnes gestured to the door on the left further down. “That’s the bathroom. I’ve moved the boys’ stuff out and given them the second one across the main hall so you can have it to yourself.” She then gestured to the two doors on the right side of the hall, with a sign hanging on each, though the candlelight was too dim to make out the words. “That’s their bedrooms, so I’m afraid you’ll have to prepare for some loud wake-up calls.” She said with an amused smile.

Opening the first door on the left, she led you into a spacey room, that was, as described, quite bare, with only a four-poster bed pushed into the top-right corner, a dark, polished set of drawers and matching wardrobe facing the bed on the opposite wall, along with a familiar -looking changing screen in the bottom left corner decorated with storks flying above a Japanese landscape – you recognised it as one of the wedding gifts your uncle had gifted your aunt sixteen years ago. In the top left corner by the large open window was a vanity with clawed feet, holding up a large, ornate oval mirror, a cushioned stool pushed under it. Next to it was another door that led to the balcony. Nearer to the bedroom door was a large roll top desk, covered in drawers, shelves and pigeon holes, though the only object present was a small typewriter tucked under one of the shelves.

Excitement filling you, you strode across the room to the bed, the feeling of the fluffy rug under your feet a welcoming sign. Placing your trunk and bag down as gracefully as you could, you spun around to face your aunt with a wide grin on your face. “This is amazing!” you gasped quietly, mindful of the two other sleeping residents. “You didn’t have to give me all this.”

“Of course I did!” Agnes exclaimed, walking over to give you another hug. “Did you forget your mother and I practically lived and raised you and the twins together until just a year ago? I’m treating the three of you as equals until the day I die.”

Looking down at her, you observed the slight wrinkles appearing under her eyes, and the dark rings accompanying them that hadn’t been there the last time you saw her back when she still lived in York. Sighing, you stepped back. “I know.” You agreed warmly. “And thank you, for everything you’ve done so far.”

She ruffled the top of your head, your long strands of hair still clumped together with rain water and the clips you had failed to pin it back with. “Anything for you. Now get some sleep, it’s past midnight and the boys will be giving you the earliest and loudest wake-up call once they figure out you’re here.”

You agreed, bidding your aunt goodnight before taking the candle she left for you over to the vanity, where you spent the next ten minutes trying your best to find every pin and clip in your damp hair, then tediously trying to brush it smooth enough to then twist into a loose braid. You also quickly took out your belongings that were wet, hanging them over the screen and the drying rack you had found in the wardrobe. Satisfied you collapsed onto the double bed, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. Burying yourself under the covers, you blew the candle out, bathing the room in darkness, and using the rain outside as white noise, you slowly drifted off, mentally preparing yourself for the twins when they would come to wake you up.

Oh, and wake you up they did.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 12th June, 1929.

You were barely able to pull your heavy eyelids apart when the door in the far corner swung open, the door handle hitting the wall with a resounding ‘BANG!’, followed by a very loud “BOYS!!”, echoing through the house.

That wasn’t the end of it though. You had barely begun to turn over at the sound of several pairs of heavy footsteps bounding across the wooden floorboards, when two very heavy weights crashed on top of you, causing your eyes to fly open as the wind was knocked out of you.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!” you screeched, flailing about as much as you could until your arms were free, reaching over the covers to shove at the two long figure sprawled across you.

Loud giggling filled your ears, and you looked over your duvet to find two familiar identical-looking faces, with matching cheshire grins, peering over at you mischievously from where they laid across your body. Groaning, you flopped back down, choosing instead to stare at the forest green drapes strung across the poster bed. Though it was soon replaced by two mops of loose, curly hair as they peeked over the edge at you, one dark brown-almost black, the other a pale blonde. You were thankful of their opposite hair colour, because the only way you would’ve been able to tell them apart otherwise would be with the different freckles and moles dotted across their pale faces.

“Mum said you came in looking like a soggy rat last night.” Teased Allie, reaching out to prod at your cheek with a snicker.

Your own hand shot out, shoving his blonde head away. “Did not.” You responded groggily, as you tried to shove his twin off the other side of you. “Now get your fat arses off of me.”

They gasped in mock offence, immediately plopping themselves back on top of you, both reaching to poke and prod at your face. “You said a bad word ~” Ollie chimed in a sing-song voice, kicking his legs behind him playfully as he tried to shove a finger in your ear. Slapping them both away, you prepared for another onslaught, until determined footsteps drew closer to your door, and the two of them froze as their mother walked in, a wooden spoon grasped in her hand.

“ODESSEY. ADAGIO. Get off of your cousin before I send you to school WITHOUT breakfast!” She hollered, a thunderous look on her face.

The two of them collectively groaned. “Muuuumm, don’t call us thaaaat.” Whined Ollie, as he took his sweet time slowly rolling over your whole body before sliding off the bed to stand next to his equally grumpy brother. You followed not long after, sitting up at the edge to watch the ordeal with a smug smile.

“Call you what?! Your real names?! Well then, you better get yourselves downstairs!” she exclaimed, pointing at the door with the wooden spoon.

Reluctantly, they complied, but that didn’t stop Allie from poking his tongue out as he disappeared through the doorway, narrowly missing a swing from his mother’s spoon. Facing your aunt, you finally noticed that she was already up and dressed for work, donning a cream blouse with a blue ribbon tied around the neck, along with a matching blue maxi pencil skirt that reached just above her ankles. Her hair was meticulously styled in an updo similar to the one you had yesterday, her chestnut brown hair twisted back in swirls that ended in a loose low bun, with some strands neatly framing her face. She approached you, the short heels of her shoes muffled by the rug.

“Morning! Breakfast is ready.” She explained with a smile that you returned. “Freshen yourself up and come meet us downstairs, ok?” You agreed, and she disappeared back downstairs.

Rummaging through you clothes that were now thankfully dry, you opted for a loose blouse, and a pair of wide-legged tweed trousers, taking them to the bathroom. Slipping a leather belt through the loops, you quickly wet your hair over the bath, scrubbing in some shampoo and conditioner before rinsing it out and rubbing a towel over the strands until it was no longer dripping. Happy with the light makeup you applied, you headed back downstairs, running a hand through the wet tangles until you reached the dining table.

“I see what mum meant by soggy rat.” You turned to see Allie smirking over the table as you sat down in front of a plate full of English breakfast.

“I’ll turn you into a soggy rat.” You muttered back, stuffing half a hash-brown into your mouth, whilst simultaneously trying not to sigh in relief after not eating for at least 24 hours.

“OoOoh shiver me timbers!” he mocked back, waving his hands in mock fright.

Ollie’s tall figure appeared as he walked over from the kitchen - bacon, eggs, hash-browns and baked beans piled excessively onto his plate. “Mum told us you were going to be staying in our cabin up in the mountains.” He said as he sat down. “Did you like the gift we left?” he said with a grin half lopsided by the food he was shoving in his mouth.

You glared up at them from your plate. “Yes. The excessive amount of fake cockroaches in the bathroom was a very welcomed surprise. Odessey.”

The grin on your cousin’s face fell into a pout at the use of his full name. Letting out a prolonged grunt, he returned to his breakfast.

“Besides,” you started. “It’s not like I’m the only one suffering here. Apparently you’re both Scottish now.”

The two of them let out a collective groan, slumping in their seats.

“It’s not our fault Miss Sammie has less intelligence than a hamster.” Whined Allie as he stabbed an egg with his fork. “She thought Japan was part of China the other day!”

You let out a sharp laugh. “I hope that doesn’t reflect on your learning, or your mum will end up with steam coming out her ears.” You snickered.

“Thankfully it doesn’t.” replied Ollie, rolling his grey eyes as he stuck a whole wad of bacon in his mouth, making sure to not get any grease on his uniform. “Otherwise we’d be begging mum to move us back to England.”

“Speaking of moving, how are you guys finding it here?” you asked, hoping the answers were positive.

“Meh, it’s been alright.” Said Allie with a shrug. “The alligators are cool, but apparently we’re not allowed to wrestle them, which is soooo boring.”

“And the summers are shit. Nothing but heatwaves.” Ollie added.

“Well that’s what you get when you’re used to living in the North-East of England, where one of the nearest land masses is Norway.” You pointed out. “Plus English summers can be unbelievably humid, so I’m not sure what you’re whining about.”

“Oho, just you wait until July hits, then you’ll eat your words.” He retorted. “Hurricane season can be a bitch, too.”

“Don’t remind me.” You groaned. “I barely experienced the tail-end of one last night and it almost killed me.”

The two cackled at you, much to your annoyance, but is was cut short at the sound of your name being called. Looking up, you watched as your aunt poked her head around the doorway, the handset of a rotary phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, beckoning you over with an eager look, before disappearing back into the hallway. Quickly, you got up, marching round the table. Turning the corner, you watched as she ended the call. “Yes, yes. Thank you so much Mr LeBlanc, I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Yes – buh-bye now. Bye.”

Placing the phone back on its metal cradle, she whirled around to face you, excitement prominent on her features. “Sooo, that was Mr LeBlanc on the phone…” she proclaimed, eyeing you with a growing smile.

All you could do was stare in confusion, silence filling the wood-panelled hallway. Agnes darted her wide eyes between you and the phone, clearly waiting in anticipation for your reaction, but you only knew two things about New Orleans: jazz, and that it had a river shaped slightly similar to the London Thames. So you continued to stare.

Seeing that you weren’t going to react, she let out a sigh. “Mr LeBlanc runs Héritage Amour Réparation D’Antiquités on Julia Street down near the Mississippi River, and he’s willing to take you on as an apprentice?” she said as if it was the most obvious thing on Earth.

You blinked. “Wait, you’ve been looking for apprenticeships for me??” You gawked. “Since when??? I don’t think I even mentioned that I would be looking for one in the letters I sent you.”

“Oh, you haven’t.” she assured. “Your mum told me in a letter about a month ago when you were up in New York, so I thought I would speed up the process by looking for one for you.”

You continued to gawk in silence.

“Careful,” smirked Allie from over your shoulder. “You’re gonna catch flies.”

You didn’t even turn to face him as you reached a hand back, ignoring his whine as you smushed it against his face, shoving him back into the dining room.

“You –” you pointed at yourself. “You got me an apprenticeship??” She nodded excitedly. “Jesus Christ Agnes. At this point I’m gonna be indebted to you for the rest of my life!”

She clasped her hands together, throwing her head back as she laughed. “It’s no problem, really. I just want you to get settled in as soon as possible. I told Mr LeBlanc that if you accepted, he’s welcome to come for tea on Friday to meet you, then, if he’s happy, we’ll go for a day out around the city centre, and maybe visit him in his shop during that time. Sound good?”

You blinked repeatedly, trying to wrap your head around what your aunt was saying. “I – uh, yea. That would be great, actually.”

“Great! I’ll give him a call back, and you’ll meet him on Friday.” She proclaimed, satisfied as she picked the phone back up, holding the headset to her ear whilst twisting the numbers into the dial.

Still in a small state of shock, you turned back towards the dining room, slowly making your way back to your seat. Plopping down, you were met with the smug smiles of the twins.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to splurge big time on mum’s birthday. Don’t ’cha think Allie?” said Ollie, turning to his brother with a shit-eating grin.

His brother returned his expression with equal enthusiasm. “Oh yea. I was thinking, perhaps a top of the range Gramophone? I heard they have the new model in down at that shop on Canal Street.” He turned to you. “What do ya think cousin? Ready to serve our mum for the rest of eternity?”

All you could do was flick egg at their foreheads.

——

Friday came running up on you before you even realised, and here you were helping your aunt prepare roasted duck and vegetables whilst simultaneously trying to keep the twins away from the desserts in the icebox – you figured the sneaky buggers knew exactly what creaky floorboards to avoid. When the doorbell rang, Agnes encouraged you to go answer it, so, putting on a smile, you opened the door to welcome in your guest.

Mr LeBlanc was a warm and chirpy type of man: 63 years old with white hair and a matching frizzy moustache and beard, dressed in a smart blue shirt and neatly ironed trousers and slacks. He was around 5’7 – around the average height for men at this time. Sticking his hand out, he gave you a wide smile, and feeling the welcoming aura ride off him in waves, you gladly grasped his outstretched hand with your own.

“Bonne soirée! I do hope I’ve got the right address!” he laughed, his accent a funny mix between French and southern American. You assured that he was at the right place, introducing yourself. “Oh, what a lovely name! I am Ralph LeBlanc, but I’m sure your aunt has already informed you of me.” He said expectantly, voice slightly croaky and hoarse from old age.

Giving him a smile and a nod, you invited him in, bringing him to the dining room where your aunt and cousins were just finishing the preparations for dinner, and you all sat down, tucking into the delicious meal.

The dinner was successful, Ralph happily agreeing to take you on as an apprentice whilst also assisting him with running the repair shop, as he was currently the only one managing it. You had informed him of your history degree, and your school awards in art, and after that he was very eager to agree, almost acting excited when he invited you to come to the shop next Monday for a ‘starter shift’ where he would show you the ropes and make sure you were settled. It was as if the gods switched up on your luck, turning it round from the horrific start you had arriving here, and you weren’t planning on losing this good streak anytime soon.

“Now,” said Mr LeBlanc as he stood putting his coat on by the front door. “Make sure you are wearing something comfy and flexible, preferably pants if you own any, as we don’t want any skirts getting trapped in anything.” You nodded, and he paused for a moment, looking up at you. “Odd question, but how tall are you and your cousins? I don’t think I’ve met many with your heights, especially a woman.”

You glanced at your feet, now conscious of the way you towered over him slightly. “Last time I checked I was 5’9, and the twins are 6 foot. I uh, got it from my dad – he’s 6’1, and they got it from theirs.”

His eyes widened as he puffed his cheeks out. “La vache that’s tall. And did you say the boys were only 16? Wow, I really ain’t trying to make this sound weird but those magazine people would snatch you three up if they knew you were here.”

You laughed shaking your head, albeit nervously at the thought of having your picture taken. Thanking him, you waved him out and said your goodbyes.

Closing the door, you let out a relieved sigh, grateful that the evening was successful, and you retreated back to your room for the evening.

Thought it didn’t stop your excitement for the Monday to come.

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

I hope you've enjoyed it so far! The ending’s a bit rushed, and Alastor's not going to appear for a couple chapters, but I hope I can make the wait worth it. See you soon for Chapter 2!!

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

< Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 >

Return to Fic Masterlist

Return to Navigation

Taglist: @theredviolets @mybrainsautocorrect @all-user-error @belos-simp69 @boogiemansbitch @elio-ee @snowlotr @mistresslemonsuger @sugasweettea @jaygrl22 @mysterypotatoink @yunimimii @threefingeredpencil @mydeardelphi @glowinthedarkbones1150 @fluffismystaplefood

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor x you #alastor x oc

123 notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 11 months

Text

prequel to Honey I’m Home

master list

summary: a peek into the lives of our love birds back in 1985

w/c: 4k

tw: no minors, underage drinking, drug use, party behavior. hinted at: rape

Engine roaring hot with the early dog days of summer, Eddie’s van skids to a stop sliding against black asphalt of Piney Wood Lane.

“Eddie! What the fuck?!” A church mouse voice that resembled nails on a chalkboard shrieks when the van halts to a stop. Peach colored lipstick is smeared in a wavy line across her pale skin, Chrissy glares icy blue daggers into the curly haired metal head.

Stoned and nearly asleep, Eddie forced his tired lips into a grin, pearly whites gleaming against the backdrop of the setting sun through the dirty windshield. “Oh babe you’re so pretty, here let me help.” Grabbing the tube of lipstick Eddie draws a matching line across her other cheek, “all better,” he yawns as she snatches the lipstick tube back and shoves the lid back on slamming it into her purse. Using a dirty t-shirt by her feet that she knew was used to wipe Eddie’s cum off her stomach some time last week after one of his shows, she rotates it to a cleanish spot and works the black cloth gently across her face, muttering to herself.

“Where are these little shits anyway?” She grumbles as she avoids Eddie’s lips on her neck, shoving him away with the heel of her hand.

“Fuck Chris, relax,” Eddie says, arms up in a surrender and lowering slightly to light a cigarette and blowing the smoke into the open warm air through his window, “little Tooty said they have to sneak out of the basement window.”

It had been a full year since Eyeball had left town and graduated without Eddie. His best friend was always smarter than he was, never having to repeat senior year, he left Eddie’s trailer park ass in the dust— never to be heard from again.

A scoff breaks from Chrissy’s pastel pink lips as she swipes more powder blue eyeshadow on her lids in the mirror. “I don’t know what my brother sees in her.”

The high encompassing Eddie falters for a split second. Chad Cunningham? What the fuck would Tooty want to do with him?

“Damn, tell me how you really feel,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes and inhaling from his cigarette, “don’t hold back.”

Chrissy flips the visor up with a thud and crosses her arms, her lips twisted in a sneer, she opens her mouth to speak but Eddie shushes her when five moving figures run across the neatly mowed lawn of the Wheeler’s.

Opening the sliding door is a pimple-faced Mike Wheeler, accompanied by Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Max Mayfield, and you.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Eddie says holding his hands up in protest, “watch the carpet yeah? Won’t be a shaggin’ wagon if the carpet is stomped all to hell you little gremlins.”

“Fuck dude,” Dustin speaks, sliding next to Mike on the floor, “you gonna give us upholstery lessons or are we going to this party?”

Mike and Lucas laugh as Eddie takes off before the door is even shut. Screaming into the night like a bat out of hell. Passing out cigarettes from a crumbled pack you kept in the breast pocket of the same ratty flannel you wore almost daily, everyone leans forward to catch the flame at the same time. Inhaling deep and choking back smoke against baby pink lungs.

Eddie wasn’t your favorite person but if he was one thing: it was reliable. He’d show up in his van, rolling up on the last remnants of weed whenever you called him. Day or night, rain or shine wherever you were— he’d drop whatever he was doing to pick you up.

Like the time Mike had left you at Benny’s after falling asleep in the red cracked booth following a late night movie premiere of Cujo. A quick dial to the Munson trailer, with a worried Benny behind you, after a couple of monotonous dial tones an out of breath Eddie answered grumpily reassuring you he’d be there soon.

Ten minutes later the blaring tunes of DIO were heard faintly as his van roared down the street, foregoing stop signs and swerving all over the place.

Benny raised an eyebrow and gave Eddie a pointed finger grunting: get her home safe.

Eddie greeted you with a stupid smile and deep dimples, threatening Mike’s life and his Hellfire spot for leaving you behind.

“Don’t make this a habit,” he scolded lightly, eyes red and higher than a kite, his boots were untied and his hair was sticking out in every direction, “Eyeball will skin me alive.”

You roll your eyes and put your feet on the dash, “Kev doesn’t even know I’m gone.”

Tapping the brakes Eddie laughs deep when you lunge forward, millimeters from almost smacking your head on your knees. “You know my rule, feet down little T.”

The night was young and you were filled with a naivety that coursed through your veins. With Eyeball at college your parents were rarely home, and you spent every waking minute you could with the boys, Max and El. A group of unruly teens, knobby knees and bad haircuts. The summer was barely at its peak, and you couldn’t wait to live it.

“Alright you little brats,” Eddie joked, pulling into Rick’s driveway, “no humping, no grinding, don’t take anything if you aren’t sure of what it is, and you all owe me $5 for the ride here and supplying you little degenerates with the best weed and warm beer in all of Hawkins.” He goads with a warm smile and jumps out of the van, leaving Chrissy to readjust her hair and makeup for the tenth time in the fifteen minute drive to get out to Lover’s Lake.

Filing out of the van one at a time, everyone slaps an Abe Lincoln into Eddie’s upturned palm. When it’s your turn he quickly closes his hand and you give him an annoyed look.

A look of concern colors his brow as he peers into your face, “Are you seriously dating Chrissy’s brother?”

Turning your lip up in defense, you scowl at the accusation, “so what if I was?” You gonna run and tell Kev about it?”

Eddie didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Eyeball’s fury, having seen for himself how Eyeball could fight the biggest of assholes at the Hideout, and he damn sure as hell didn’t want to see you on that end either. “Nah,” he chides, pocketing the bills into his chain wallet and standing with his hands on his hips, chest out, “what the hell do you think I am some shithead narc? I just didn’t think that you’re old enough to date.”

Snarling a grin and pushing his shoulder you answer sarcastically, “Are you my mother? Stop smoking Munson, you’re turning into a softie.” Traipsing past him you quickly run inside to find your friends, feet crunching on the gravel.

What the hell got into him?

—

The party is buzzing and so are you, two drinks in and a hit from Jonathan’s blunt and you’re dancing with Max, El and Will around the living room.

Tears flood Will’s eyes but he won’t say what’s wrong. Lately when he drank, he always seemed to get a little gloomy and dark. Whatever was bothering you he’d never tell, just going on about how it’s not fair. Only for the next day to claim he didn’t remember.

In a blurring spin from El’s outstretched hand, you can make out Steve Harrington. His tongue was wrapped around some blonde girl’s throat. Hands cupping her ass like she might float away. He wore his sunglasses in the house pretending like he really was fit to be “King”.

King Douche of Hairspray Island

Nancy and Jonathan are whispering close together slow dancing to a song no one can hear but them. Her stylish hair and clothes always fit her like she was straight from a Gap catalog.

Eyeing you, she waves and blows you a kiss. One you pocket and blow back. You’ve come to know Nancy quite well this last school year. Being one of your best friend's older sister’s she was cool and grown up.

Showing Max, El and yourself the proper way to wear makeup without looking like a cheap tramp.

“I don’t care if it is popular, blue is not a shade for anyone’s eyes.” Her makeup lessons earned an eye roll from Max, but you and El took special interest in it.

Collapsing onto the couch after Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ended; Will, Max and El all fall into a fit of giggles, you are breathless and your legs feel like freeze pops before they’re frozen. Being drunk and spinning around wasn’t the best of combinations but it was a blast.

A wayward glance towards the makeshift poker table in the small kitchen has Will wiping his eyes, rushing to the bathroom, excusing himself with a rushed “gotta pee.”

Finishing the last swallows of a lone beer sitting atop the barely standing coffee table, Max tosses the empty can behind her and leans forward, turning her head towards your direction, her eyes squinting into a serious glare, “you really gonna date that weasel dick Chad Cunningham?”

El’s face lights with devilish delight and you roll your eyes. Chad Cunningham was in your grade, and more popular than anyone you hung out with. Exceptionally good at sports and school, he was a dreamboat for any girl to set sail with. A future of wealth and riches lying at your feet. And he had been laying on his advances thick.

Plucking a cigarette from the crumbled pack in your shirt pocket, you offer the redhead a drag after taking a long inhale.

“Jesus,” you breathe through a cloud of smoke, “I swear I’m gonna kill Lucas.”

Max only laughs, poking your ribs with a slight jab of her unpainted fingernail, red from a picked stubborn hangnail, “Lucas couldn’t keep a secret if someone paid him too.”

Lucas and Chad played on the same baseball team, and it was he who said he would put in a good word to you for Chad. Apparently they were talking about more than just batting averages at practice.

Stealing the cigarette from your mouth, Max slots it between her own chapped lips, inhaling and blowing the smoke upwards as she falls back into the couch.

Lighting another cigarette, you listen to Max’s scoffing noises as Eddie runs through the living room, shirt off wearing cutoff denim shorts and boots, a screaming Chrissy over his shoulder as he trots towards the dock. Her high pitched whines are faint as there are two splashes into the lake, one after another.

“We’ve talked on the phone once, maybe twice,” you offer the small information as a gift, waiting for your two best friends to pull the pink satin bow and open it revealing the secret surprise. “Just lucky my mom didn’t get to the phone before I did.”

“No shit,” El hums around a can of Pabst, a wicked smile evident on her lips, “so what did he say?!”

The three of you dive into a giggly drunk conversation about boys, laughing at how awkward they were, how dumb they could be, ending the conversation still unsure whether or not you would give in to Chad’s charm. He was cute after all.

He wasn’t like you, while your family wasn’t poor, Chad’s family was extremely wealthy. They were all matching outfits for family pictures and lately your parents were gone more than they were home. Hushed whispers and teary eyes from your mother.

You didn’t know what was going on, maybe they would be getting a divorce? Maybe you’d be like Max and live in the trailer park after whichever parent decided to stay in Hawkins. Between the choice of living with your mom or dad, you’d rather sleep in a dog kennel.

Of all the girls in the school, Chad had chosen you. The sleepless nights on the phone were nothing but sweet talk. Telling you how pretty you were, calling you honey bun, how he couldn’t get you out of his head. Teasing him and telling him he was crazy, his flirting only deepened. Creating a pocket of desire and questions of what if? burrowed deep into your skin. Warming your heart with each peel of his words cozying inside of it.

He even left flowers on your window sill in the middle of the night so you could wake up to the smell of wildflowers drying in the growing sun of the dewy morning.

He was a charmer. And he’d charmed you right to a fit of heated cheeks and butterfly stomach aches.

When you saw Chrissy’s blonde hair in Eddie’s van you almost expected to see him in the back. Stomach sinking when he wasn’t stuffed into the grungy van.

Last night he made you promise to call when you were done hanging out with your friends. A promise you weren’t sure if you would keep or not.

El slinked from the couch and joined Mike and the rest of the boys playing their drunken hands at poker. Losing every cent of allowance and weeks worth of mowing yards in Hawkins to Steve and a piss drunk Tommy.

Max and Lucas were wrestling on the floor now, his deep skin turning a violent shade of purple only seen on plums from Max having him in a headlock, making him swear to stop calling her Pippy due to her choice of hairstyle.

The scent of murky lake water infused with green algae and harsh whiskey fogged your brain, tiny droplets of water slid down your cheeks, making you question how many beers you actually had. Putting your head on the cushion and looking back revealed Eddie, standing behind you in all his stupidity and brainless head banging to Heaven and Hell. One hand clutched around a bottle of Jack Daniels by the neck, his rings clacking loudly around the glass, the other pinched a fat joint. One wet boot on the back of the couch.

“Trailer Park run out of water again?” you spit, making a show of wiping your face with the back of your hand and sitting farther away from the metal head menace. Kev’s friend or not, Eddie was a special kind of jackass. Loud, ruthless, a real mother fucker, but come hell or high water, he was loyal to his friends. But shit, even an old porch dog is.

Eddie made a voice and chuckled deep, taking a large inhale from the joint, the paper crinkling against the orange burnt end. Blowing big O’s around your face, he merely grins, “you’re too kind to me little T,” he gathers his hair and wrings it out over your head, leaping over the back of the couch landing next to you with a sopping squelch sound of wet denim slapping against polyester, “better ease up on that sweetness or someone might think you’re not made of piss and vinegar.”

Kicking him away from you he only laughs harder ow stop you’re hurting me ow, he breaks out through choked laughs at your attempt to throw him off the couch.

When you have him pinned against the arm rest, your dirty white converse pressed into the slab of graffitied alabaster that makes up his back, he gently grabs your ankle and tosses your feet off of him in a swift throw.

Crossing your arms in a stubborn fashion you deliver one more kick into his side before retreating your legs in a pretzel beneath you, taking the joint from his outstretched hand as a peace offering. Hard to deliver kicks when your feet felt like they were stuck in brownie batter thick mud.

After a few hits, droopy eyes, and Eddie’s dripping curls down his back and onto the woven beige fabric of Rick’s couch, Eddie lets out a loud sigh, taking a pull from the whiskey bottle he still was nursing.

“Thought Eyeball was supposed to come home this summer?”

The question is more of a statement from Eddie as you lazily shrug your shoulders and find intense concentration on the frayed edges of your shorts. Fingers rolling the edges until the fabric is warm and sweaty.

“Dunno, precious Kev hasn’t said much since he went out East, nobody has.”

“Ohh c’mon,” Eddies velvet voice hums deep through his high, eyes barely open, “your rents aren’t that bad.”

Blowing hot breath through your lips you mimic a balloon, giggling at the way your lips feel with each wiggly vibration against your them. “Next. I’m not talking about my feelings with you when you’re higher than Willie fuckin’ Nelson.”

“Rocky Mountain High,” Eddie grins, tipping the neck or the Jack Daniel’s bottle to his lips.

Heckling him you correct, “That’s… John Denver …dumbass— ,” a yawn escapes your mouth, brain functioning on low as the high creeps into your brain, an unannounced nap knocking on your eyelids.

The couch dips with Eddie’s weight as he reaches for a blanket and tosses it to you, “Kid, I don’t know how you and Eyeball are related,” he presses, laughing at the way your eyes heavily blink back at him, “you can’t hang.”

The slowest fuck you rolls of your tongue, the living room fading in your vision you can almost taste the insult rolling around your mouth.

His idle smile falls into a frown, eyebrows pulled inward, eyes looking over your head you train your eyes to follow his gaze.

The noise of Chrissy’s bubbly giggle as she emerges from Rick’s bedroom, catches your attention. She’s wearing a pair of his boxers and a worn heather gray shirt, faded kelly green writing reading, Hawkins Athletic Dept 1980. Her eyes are twinkling with each murmur from Rick’s slack mouth, bent low to her ear, neither of them seeing Eddie sitting on the couch.

Stepping into the low hanging lights in the living room, Rick quickly gestures to Chrissy’s nose and she hastily wipes at it with the back of her hand.

You knew very little of Chrissy other than her family lived on the golf course in a lavish house with a perfectly manicured yard. One boy, one girl, perfect cookie cutter JC Penney catalog assholes.

Last year, you, Dustin and Mike threw three dozen perfectly shaped, white eggs at their front door on Halloween. While Will and Lucas rang the doorbell and Max lit the brown papered sack filled to the brim of Forest Hills Trailer Park’s finest dog shit.

There were wanted ads in the Hawkins Post for weeks about any known whereabouts of the “hoodlums” who defaced private property.

And Joyce Byers stood her ground on not knowing anything when Chief Hopper begrudgingly stomped his way from his police cruiser to the lonely woman’s door. Nevermind her receipt from Bradley’s Big Buys that was identical to what was used in the Halloween crimes of 1984.

It truly was a mystery.

Chrissy didn’t talk to you or any of your friends when you all hung out with Eddie and that was perfectly fine with you, she seemed on edge and would scowl anytime Eddie wasn’t paying her attention or waiting on her hand and foot. At the very least she looked to be in desperate need to fucking relax.

Her wide pupils scan the living room and stop on Eddie. The innocence of Bambi struck the blues in her eyes.

The couch shifts as Eddie stands on firm boots and makes his way to Rick and Chrissy. And before you can crane your neck to hear the conversation, Dustin throws himself down beside you, grabbing the blanket in a yank.

“Pretty sure I’ve figured out the physics of the beer bong,” he says as he flips your legs on his lap.

Before long your eyelids have taken the shape of sandbags and you’re fast asleep. Left on the couch after Dustin’s lengthy explanation of the correct number of breaths taken before the beer bong rendered you to a peaceful dream state.

When you wake by being lightly shaken by a sober-looking Eddie, his warm dark eyes swim with anger and look too wet, and his smile doesn’t match his eyes, “let’s go, kid,” he looks around wildly, on edge, “you’re drunker than a skunk— it’s time to go.”

You’re incoherent as you try to stand, a dizzy spell capturing you in a wave and you feel like you're underwater. Looking around you don’t recognize anyone but Eddie. Rick’s is packed with faces you don’t know.

Not wanting to be there for another second, Eddie grabs your wrist, squats low in front of you and throws your arms around his neck. He wraps the smooth crook of his elbows into the back of your knees, wearing you like a drunk backpack.

A piggy back ride that left your face in the curly, tangled tufts of his drying hair, the tang of weed and lake water stinging your nose as you bury your chin into his shoulder.

A cool blanket is on you when you open your eyes and become a little more alert. You’re in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, a cigarette hangs limply from his lips as he’s muttering something to himself. It’s dark, and no music is playing. An odd thing for him.

A quick glance around and you see that no one else is with you. A street lamp shines through the windows and you can see Eddie’s knuckles are painted with a deepened glossy red substance.

“Eddie?”

He doesn’t hear you immediately so you repeat his name. His head turns sharp towards you and the blazed look of rage emits from his face. If it were a look from anyone else you’d be terrified. He quickly softens his eyes.

“Everyone’s at Steve’s,” he says quickly, “the kids, Nancy, Jonathan.. we’re heading there—that cool?”

Confused but unable to concentrate a single thought on why the fuck Eddie would be taking you to Steve mop head Harrington’s house, you nod in agreeance. Fighting sleep but losing.

“.. okay okay okay! Explain to me again what the hell happened, I was helping Lucas get Max in my car when it went down.”

“Ouch! Jesus Chr—“

“Sorry!”

“.. they were eyeing her man, all of them! — it was— fuck!”

*glass breaks against a wall*

“Who Chrissy?”

“No, Tooty!”

“Oh my God.. Munson. Who were they?!”

“I don’t know man, I’ve— I’ve never seen them before… fuck this I’m going back there— gonna snap their fucking necks!”

“Stop, this needs to get cleaned or it’ll get infected!”

“Henderson, weren't you sitting by her? Where the hell were you?!.”

“I was Steve! fuck— I just had take a piss, I was gone for like 2 minutes and then I heard the yelling…”

“Christ! Did they touch her?!”

“No,” a tearful voice warbles, “Eddie knocked out that big fucker and the rest of them backed off.”

“I fucking swear to God— Harrington, I will slit their throats if I see them again!”

“I know dude I know, me too.”

“She’s asleep. Max and El are staying with her in the guest room upstairs, I think we should all get some sleep it’s fucking 3 in the morning.”

“Nope, all due respect Wheeler— I can’t.”

“Ed—”

“Fuck! I won’t go back there, alright? But I can’t just lay down and go to bed— not after this..”

The weary eyed stubborn watchdog waits til dawn, aching back from the wall he’s propped up against and bruised knuckles sting with tightness. Flipping the steel end of an old pocket knife open and closed.

Steve stayed up with him for a while, a bat with nails protruding from every which way in a death grip in his fist.

Eddie didn’t think he actually was all that bad, underneath all that hairspray he could tell he’s a genuine person— lost on the surface of money, name brand clothes and expensive cologne.

The two of them made a pact that night that the kids would be protected at all costs, two guardians in the halls for them in high school in the fall. The jock dickheads who crashed Rick’s party amongst them, but the threat behind Eddie’s fist evident in the broken jaw of the football captain behemoth. No longer able to to take the Tigers to a state championship or try to have his way with a younger drunk girl at a party.

Both Eddie and Steve decide that in the morning if you didn’t remember what happened— it would die there, a protective secret amongst new friends.

🧡

see you in volume xi

#honey im home #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things fanfiction

507 notes · View notes

loliwrites · 2 months

Text

September: Beast of Burden

part two of fountain of sorrow

⇢ pairing: javier peña x f!reader ⇢ rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni ⇢ chapter warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother [reader has a young daughter][child won’t play a massive role], SMUT, oral [m&f receiving], unprotected p in v sex, blink and you’ll miss it anal play, choking, hair pulling, brief cum eating, one single solitary spank, cigarettes [are bad for you], post-sex photos, terms of endearment [querida], female reader, no physical description, protective!javi, no use of y/n. ⇢ word count: 5.0k ⇢ series masterlist ⇢ a/n: javi fully in his slut era. but the slut to girl dad pipeline is impending ❤️

The final month of summer was punctuated by more than Labor Day and fading heat. This year was marked by the bruises of fresh hickeys on your neck and chest, and the scratches you’d carved down Javier’s back. Emphasized by the lazy mornings that followed; all strong black coffee and subdued yearnings for lust that never went unanswered. You had come to learn that the rumors that trickled through The Tack Room about him – the ones that hung heavy and muggy in the air, like the inside of your car, steaming up the windows – were all true. A good time guy. Hung like a horse. Insatiable. The best goddamn lay ever.

Truthfully, you hadn’t had the wherewithal to pay much attention to the rumors before sleeping with him. There wasn’t the time to. In a world consumed with a day job that led into a weekend job and virtually single handedly raising a child, you weren’t afforded to pay too close attention to the local gossip about the playboy man-child. It seemed every other woman in town was talking about it enough for the whole lot. And though you were certainly hearing of the whispers at The Tack Room, it still didn’t dawn on you to pay close attention. Javier Peña, despite being the son of a cherished and valued member of Laredo, didn’t have the same distinction. He’d come back into town like a hurricane, whipping up the wind and rain, leaving broken windows and hearts in his path. And hell, a guy willing to fill the early hours of your weekend mornings and not take up any of your other already limited free time, was welcome. Especially the guy who was giving you the orgasms all these other women were reminiscing about.

“I haven’t seen him. He keeps giving me excuses. Working on his dad’s ranch or something.”

The last bit of gossip you needed before clocking out that Friday night. A little dagger you could take and sink in between Javier’s ribs. Twist and turn, nicking arteries on the way. See, Javier could have any woman he so much breathed in the direction of. The line stretching through town seemed unending, all trying to get a glimpse of his attention. A glimmer of love for the night. What these women didn’t know, and why you only pursed your lips and smiled to yourself, was you knew why they weren’t hearing from him anymore. It hadn’t been intentional. There wasn’t some grand plan to get him off the market. In fact, there generally wasn’t too much meaningful conversation. But he spent most days of the week working in the sun, doing hard manual labor that was a far cry from his previous life in the DEA (not that he ever spoke about it to you), and his Friday night, Saturdays, and Sundays had been spent balls deep in you, knocking your head into the headboard. At least for the last month it had been.

You pushed through the heavy metal back door of The Tack Room and slung your purse over your shoulder. Hooking a left outside the door, the first thing you saw was the orange glow of his cigarette. The smoke wafted upward, curling around his nose and cheeks, obscuring the rest of his head like a shroud for the dead. He was leaned back against the brick wall in a relaxed posture. If only the women inside knew the man they were fawning over was just a handful of yards away from them. Better than that, you knew he had been for nearly an hour. While there wasn’t any intention in keeping him to yourself, you felt it important to know he was wrapped around your finger. And for him to know it, too.

“Thought you were quitting,” you smirked, plucking the cigarette out from between his fingers. You brought it up to your lips for a puff. When he stepped closer, you blew the smoke out in his direction.

“You too,” he snatched it back and set it back between his lips. “Also thought you said you were off at eleven.”

You didn’t need to look at a clock to know you were an hour late. Wrapped around your finger. “I like things that are bad for me. And I thought I was,”

Turning for your car, you heard his boots clicking on the pavement behind you. Always in tow. You didn’t have to look behind you to know he was taking one last, long puff from the cigarette, holding onto the smoke and nicotine; one last hit of this drug before moving onto the next. He threw it to the ground in front of him and smothered it out with his boot on his next step forward. He stood close behind you, waiting for you to unlock the car door. You turned on your heels once you pulled it open. Not much could be said for Javier’s virtues but once he had something, or rather someone, he wanted in his sights, his patience was unwavering.

He slung his forearm over the top of your car door. A slanted smirk crossing over his lips, eyes glinting in the moonlight. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know the smug thoughts going through his head. For as much as you had him wrapped around your finger, he knew you were wrapped around his too. Not too many women turned down Javier fucking Peña.

“I’m exhausted so you better make it quick tonight,” you cocked your head to the side, giving your best attempt at disinterest, knowing it wasn’t very convincing.

The smirk on his face broadened, fully aware of your blatant lie. If he’d learned anything over the past month, it was that you were never too tired for him. Never told him no in four weeks. He raised his hand and caressed your chin between his thumb and index finger, “sure, querida.” Those deft fingers stroked down to its point before dropping back to his waist.

Well, shit. You were no better than all those other women in the bar. Reminiscing about his touch, knowing they’d melt with the gentlest of acts. The warmth that spread through your stomach, inching down to your most inner parts was a testament to that. Another unconvincing glare in his direction was the last thing you did before you ducked into your car. He shut the door behind you and took a step back when you all but peeled out of the parking lot, in a race back to your home. But he waited until you were out of sight before he reached into his back pocket, grabbed his carton of cigarettes, and pulled a new one from it. Took his time lighting the damn thing before he spun and made back for his car. If only you’d known the lengths he was going to, to make you wait.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

As much as you figured Javi was ruining other men for you, you knew you were ruining other women for him. However long this lasted (his reputation was evidence enough that this wasn’t someone meant for long term monogamy), you were taking up as much of his free time as he was taking up yours. Cocooned in this false sense of security. Bathed in a rush of dopamine and oxytocin. The last five weekends had all gone pretty much the same. Only a little variation in the order of events… positions… the absolute filth Javi whispered in your ear.

“You like having this tight, little pussy filled up, huh?”

“Look at me when you come,”

“Can you feel it, querida? My cock all the way up here,”

That last one was paired with his large hand wrapping around your stomach, fingers pressing in just below your belly button. What was even more astonishing was that yes, you could.

The nights always started with some form of pleasure for you. Long makeout sessions that had once been lost to adolescence were renewed with fervor. Lingering touches over the expanse of your body. Heavy handed things that ensured you felt the weight of his fingers long after they’d moved on. Along with the rumors of his exploits here in Laredo, there’d also been rumblings of what he’d gotten up to in Colombia. Not the nature or details of his job. But the details of his… extracurricular activities. And every night you found yourself in bed with Javi, those rumors started to sound more and more plausible.

And after the makeout sessions, Javi always oh so willingly dragged his mouth lower; lips giving attention to the skin his fingers had previously been responsible for. Never had to ask. Never had to convince him. He’d work down your body until he got to the apex of your thighs which had already spread to accommodate him. Hook those arms around your legs. Clutch those hands around your hips. And without fail – every single time – he’d take a long, deep inhale through his nose before his mouth set forth. First with his tongue broad and flat to your clit, rolling over it to warm you up (as if you needed it) before he gently closed his lips around it. He never questioned it. Never searched your eyes for reassurance that he was doing it to your satisfaction. He knew he was. Probably perfecting the move for the past fifteen plus years. If there was ever any anxiety about whether or not he was doing it well, that all vanquished by the time he migrated down further, to your entrance, lips and tongue working together to keep you on edge. The squeaks and moans that left your lungs didn’t leave anything up for debate. Worse, more than once, you noted the smug smirk he wore when he heard the noises from you. Face buried deep between your legs, tongue lapping and probing for entrance, and that fucking smirk was still obvious.

Like every man, he wasn’t one to turn down a blowjob. His eyes always seemed to light up when you started to inch your way down to his manhood. Eyes affixed to each of your movements. The way you started with soft kisses to the head of his cock. Always followed up by the tracing of the crown with your tongue before you let your lips kiss down his shaft. You were willing to take this slow – far slower than he probably would’ve preferred – but given the sheer amount of women he’d been with, his stamina was something else entirely. Raising a child didn’t exactly allow you the time or opportunity to get your stamina to the same level. But he never rushed you. Never pushed on the back of your head and forced you to stay with him down your throat. His hands were always present somewhere. Brushing your hair away from your face so he had a better view of the way his cock filled your mouth. Holding your hair in a ponytail to help set a rhythm whenever you started to veer off the path. Cupped beneath your chin, praising you. Look at you, champ. That mouth feels amazing, querida.

Going down on you was a standard occurrence. Whether or not he did it until you climaxed depended on the night. Most nights he was happy to stay there as long as he needed. Sometimes it was all that happened. Over and over again until your body couldn’t take anymore. Until your hand shot down and pressed back on the top of his head, trying to get some reprieve. Sometimes you couldn’t wait for him to be inside you, and though you appreciated his dedication, had to beg him to give you what you needed. It was something you’d learned quickly about Javier: with enough begging with the right amount of eyelash batting and pouting, you could get him to do just about anything you wanted.

He was always slow with you to start. Never pressing too far too quickly. Always giving you the time to adjust to him; the cocky bastard knew genetics had heartily endowed him. Perhaps he did it just to get you to beg more. To fill you up. Harder. Deeper. And when he teased (or tortured) you enough and sunk fully into you, you always strained your ears for the sigh he released. It didn’t matter what position he had you in. There was always a steady exhale of pure contentment. A longing to remain just where he was, nestled deep in your heat. But he always managed to rile himself out of it. To get himself back on task. And only then would he allow himself to get lost in ecstasy. Tenderness wasn’t something you’d say was in Javi’s repertoire. Perhaps gentleness was reserved for someone else. He was there with one objective in mind: you get you both off. And if nothing else, Javier was very efficient at it.

On this night, like the others, he was quick hands and lips, and the pace he set once he was inside you made you really reconsider taking up a religion. You were face down on the bed, chest making contact with the mattress too. The only thing held up was your ass, thanks to Javier’s arm. Wrapped tightly around your hips to keep you up at an angle conducive for the debauchery he was committing. His other hand groped your fleshy backside, tugging and squeezing each time your anatomy fluttered around his length.

“Javi,” you whined breathlessly. Sweat beaded at your hairline, matting the strands to your face, making you feel even warmer.

He smiled to himself, thankful you weren’t in a position to see it. Normally that expression on him resulted in your hands flying at him to slap it off. “Yeah, querida,”

“You’re so good,”

“I know,” he grinned even harder to himself. And when that response had you pushing up on your arms to snap your gaze back to him, he released your ass and pushed your head back down to the mattress. Another smile passed over his lips; this one holding space for much more fondness. For he could get you, full of spice and vigor, to submit to him so easily. Willingly. “So good for me, querida. Get your hands back here, let me see how good you are.”

Without a moment of contemplation you reached back, more pressure on your chest and cheek as your hands went to obey him. Fingers latched onto your ass, replacing where his had just been, and you tugged softly to yourself, giving Javi the view he wanted. Unobstructed to watch his cock slide in and out of you, each thrust coating him a little bit more in your arousal and stretching you out. With his length filling one hole he set his thumb at the other. You choked on your breath at the feeling. Though he added no real pressure to push the digit in, there was just enough force that let you know he could.

“Javi, m’gonna…”

You were being hauled up to your knees before you could catch your bearings. One moment you’re face down on the mattress and the next you were pulled up, your back pressed tightly to his chest. Your head tilted back and rested on his shoulders. Javier wrapped one arm around your waist to hold you down on him while the other snaked up over your breasts until his fingers found purchase around your throat. He squeezed tightly, smirking at the noise you let out.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna come already,” he mocked, leaning in closer to nibble on your jaw. Knowing you were too blissed out to answer, he snapped his hips forward with a particularly hard thrust, “just like the way I fill you up, huh?”

Nodding wildly, digging your nails into his forearm around your waist was all you could manage for a moment before, “love it.”

He growled in your ear. “Yeah? Show me. Show me how much you love my cock,” he kept his pace steady despite his own breaths getting more labored. He wouldn’t be long behind you. “Come all over me, querida. Let me feel it,”

The command became your ultimate undoing. Your body shivered, tensed, and a cry tore through your throat. The muscles in your core squeezed and released his shaft in perfect rhythm, though it didn’t slow him at all. He fucked you through the orgasm that overtook you until you crumbled out of his arms and back to the bed. Javier followed you down, never fully slipping out of you before you were pinned between him and the bed. Each thrust forced a little more of your release out until you could feel the wetness it left behind each time your skin met his again.

“Javi,” you moaned with pure lust.

One of his hands planted on the bed beside you to give him enough space and leverage to keep up his ministrations, while the other went to the back of your head and grabbed a fistful of hair. He tugged your head back, catching the sexed out sight of you. Jaw slack, skin tacky with sweat. He almost lost it there without warning. Choked out a groan and furrowed his eyebrows as he held on for dear life.

“Fuck,” he spat. His game plan was to pull out and come over your ass. But then the feeling of your hand gripping into his hip, clutching into him and tugging to keep him forward on you, let him know you had other plans.

“Inside,” you gasped, pressing backward to keep your core as far down on his length as possible. “I want it inside,”

The muscles in his stomach and chest flexed. He bowed his head, “you’re gonna kill me.”

“Good,”

It was just one more snap forward. One last squeeze of your muscles to make the fit even tighter. He didn’t even have time to stick to his game plan even if he’d been so inclined. He buried himself as deep as he possibly could, coming inside you with an animalistic groan. Stuttered thrusts shot his load and then pumped it further into you. A bite landed on your neck as he finished, his length throbbing inside you, laying heavy. Still. The rest of his body laid heavy on you, too. Weight nearly suffocating on top of you, blocking out the rest of the world that wasn’t the feel of him and the scent of sex.

“Peña. Off,”

“Give me a goddamn second,” he huffed. There was no real anger or annoyance in his tone. Just the playful animosity for the use of his last name.

“I can’t breathe,”

“Got enough air to speak,” he exhaled. But he was quick to rouse when you clenched your core around his shaft, “okay, okay.” He backed himself up and looked down to watch as he pulled his length out of you, taking some of your shared release with him.

A whimper floated past your lips when he was completely unsheathed. The emptiness felt nearly unbearable. As if he could read your mind, he brought a hand to your center; nimble fingers collected the come that had leaked out of your spent hole. Then his middle and ring fingers pushed forward, spearing you yet again. Your legs shifted open to accommodate them. Another moan resulted from him curling the digits inside you, inching his come back inside you.

But his fingers left your gaping hole just as quickly as they’d entered it. And your eyes only opened from their comfortable rest when you felt his wet fingers on your lips. He was leaning over you again, eyes fixed on your mouth, waiting for you to obey him. You both knew you would. Keeping your gaze on him, you opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around his long, thick fingers. Tongue danced over them, licking away the come he’d collected. But he couldn’t let tenderness win, and instead of removing his fingers once you’d swallowed his offering, he pushed his fingers to the back of your mouth until you gagged on them.

You yanked on his wrist until he relented and pulled his fingers out of your mouth. “You’re an ass,”

He laughed and pushed himself off the bed. With a brief search, he located his boxer briefs and picked them up off the floor. But there was a pause. A moment where he just stood by the bed and stared at the form of your body. Stretched out on your stomach, laid out on display like some real-life work of art. But then you turned your head and spotted him, and all he could do was clear his throat and smack his hand down on your ass. “Best pussy I’ve had in awhile,”

You rolled your eyes and turned over just in time for him to throw his underwear at you before he left the room. Now left alone, with Javier walking naked through your home, you slid his underwear up your legs and settled the waistband around your hips. And as clothed as you were willing to get for now, you reached over for the nightstand and pulled the drawer open. Produced from it, the Polaroid camera.

Javier was already heading back down the hallway to your bedroom by the time you lifted the camera up and peered through the viewfinder. He had no time to conceal himself before you snapped the photo the moment he passed through the threshold. One hand held a glass of water up to his mouth. The other arm hung at his side. His manhood swinging between his legs. The photo printed and you set the camera aside. A disgruntled groan clued you in to the fact that he wasn’t particularly pleased you were taking another photo of him, but he no longer truly voiced his displeasure with it like he had the first time. For as much as the routine of your sex escapades became commonplace to you. This had become commonplace to him. Every single night you’d been together had resulted in you snapping at least one photo of him. Sometimes more, if you were lucky. Before sex, after sex… during sex. The collection you’d started of Javier Peña, DEA, would be something legends were made of.

He came back to bed and flopped down beside you, handing the glass of water over. You exchanged it for the new photo of him and took a sip of water while he admired the photo of himself. Never short on ego.

“What do you do with these?” He used the advantage of you having turned onto your side to set the glass on the nightstand to sidle up behind you. With his chest pressed tightly to your back, he held the photo out in front of you until you took it from him.

“I’m creating a mural in the women’s bathroom at The Tack Room,” then looking over your shoulder and offering him a wink, “the many faces of Javier Peña.”

“Don’t think anyone’s looking at my face,” his hold on your hip tightened.

You looked back at the photo – this one unfortunately had most of his face obscured by the glass of water. Feeling his teeth at the soft skin on your neck, you reached forward and tugged the nightstand drawer open again, “I am.”

He lifted his head again, but finding you’d already averted your gaze, followed the outstretch of your arm to where it dug through the drawer. It didn’t take long for you to find what you were looking for. It was placed in a spot all of its own; not mixed into the ever-growing pile of salacious portraits of him. “This one’s my favorite,” you rotated on your back and held the picture up so you could both gaze upon it.

You knew he’d question it. Going through the rolodex in your mind, you could pinpoint a handful of other pictures where he was objectively more handsome or more mysterious looking. Could think of any number where his manhood looked larger. Because this photo? It was simple. You’d left the room to retrieve the camera from your purse and had come back to him in this state. Snapped the picture before he could protest (like usual). And it was just so real.

Javi laid back on your bed, naked. A sheen of sweat over his face, neck, chest… hair skewed and wild. His member laid back against his stomach, no longer at its fully hard length, and he had one hand limply cupped over his balls. His other hand was splayed on his chest, fingers outstretched. Just prior to snapping the photo, you had noticed how he seemed zoned out. His eyes, unblinking and unfocused, staring off at nothing. Whatever he was seeing was no longer physically in front of him. You’d managed to get the photo in the same moment he looked up at you. His eyes, while now focused, were still heavy. Eyes that you had only ever seen as ravenously lust-filled, or overtly enigmatic, had given up their act. Forgotten they weren’t alone and had fallen to their true state.

“M’not even smilin’ in that one,”

“S’why I like it,” you glanced over at him for the quickest of acknowledgement before returning your attention back to the photo. You ran your fingertip over the photographed version of his face, “your eyes look sad.” He traded in answering for pursing his lips together and you twisted over again to set the photo back in its rightful place.

When you turned back, Javi was already getting out of bed. Done with his dutiful minutes of what could hardly be called cuddling, and was yet again looking for more of his clothes. You sat up too, familiar with this part of your dance. Rather impersonal sex, followed by rather impersonal and lackluster aftercare, completed by the awkwardness of him leaving though you knew you’d see him tomorrow night for the same song and dance.

“Can you do me a favor?” You asked, gaining confidence when he instantly looked at you, “if I ask you a question, can you answer me honestly?” He nodded, waited just a second before he snatched his jeans off the floor and worked them up his legs. The whole act caught you flustered. Those tight jeans worked up his thick thighs, over the swell of his ass. And the way they cradled his bulge… it had you salivating. “What’d you do for the DEA in South America?”

Javi sucked in a deep breath through his nose and held it. He wondered how much you’d overheard his dad share at different points… or how much his dad had blatantly told you. He adjusted himself in his jeans and then rested that hand on his hip. “Chased Pablo Escobar,”

It was a name you’d heard in the news here and there in mentions of the war on drugs. But all things considered, Pablo Escobar seemed like a character from fairy tales. His name, while known, held no bearing in Laredo.

“Did you catch him?”

“No,”

“Then why’d you come home?”

Javi ignored the question and bent back down to pick his shirt up off the floor. “That’s more than one question,”

“Then answer one more for me,” you cocked your head to the side. He flicked his eyes back to you. “Are you fucking me for information?”

He cocked his head to match yours, “do you have information?”

“No,”

“Then no, I’m not.” He slid his shirt over his hand. Eyebrows furrowed when he looked back at you, “what’d you hear?”

“Surprisingly not the moans of every prostitute in Colombia,” you snickered, though Javi looked less than impressed.

He shook his head and ran a hand over his mouth. “Look, every woman wants to know what I do– what I did for work, and truth is, it doesn’t matter. Not to this. And whatever you think you’ve heard,” he rounded the bed with shoes in hand and came up upon your side, making you feel smaller than you ever had before. “I paid those women for information, not for sex. The money was always exchanged afterward,”

“That doesn’t matter,”

“It does if you’re a prostitute,” he sat down on the edge of the bed and fiddled to put his shoes on.

You crawled up behind him and wrapped your arms over his shoulders. Buried your face in his neck and gave him soft kisses there. “I’m just trying to get to know you. You know, since you’re at my house every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night; the nights my kid’s conveniently with her grandmother, and you’re fucking me three ways to Sunday, so I just thought…”

“Well don’t,” he looked over his shoulder. The coldness of his gaze had you inching back off him. “Don’t complicate this by bringing up DEA stuff. I’m enjoying sleeping with you. I think you’re enjoying it, too. And I’d like to continue enjoying it with you instead of the other women in town… fuckin’ insufferable.”

“That’s not nice,” you tried to hide your grin. The other women were… rough. All hoping to get dicked down by the infamous Javier Peña but lacked all real substance.

“You think we can keep doing this without talking about Colombia?”

You nodded, relenting. He had his walls up. Tall, strong, and fortified. You figured they’d never been let down for anyone. Or worse… they had and it had gone terribly wrong. Javi pulled you out of your thoughts with a peck to your lips. Very noncommittal, and stood up from the bed, heading for your door.

“What time are you off tomorrow?”

Your eyes followed him, still reeling, “eleven.”

“Actually eleven, or are you lyin’ to me again?”

“Actually eleven,”

Satisfied, he turned his back to you and headed off down the hallway. You’d follow after him in a couple minutes, long after he was gone, to lock your front door again. But right now, he walked down the hallway alone, “see you tomorrow, querida.”

#javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena smut #javier pena angst #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier pena fic #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction

80 notes · View notes

myobmaya · 2 years

Text

Reading Glasses

Description: Rainy days and Steve Harrington. You love your boyfriend but your boyfriend in glasses? Enough said.

Who: Steve Harrington x AFAB! Reader

Warning: Smut, fluff, feelings (?), breeding kink. hand job. P in V sex. Cursing. Did I mention Steve is wearing glasses bc got damn

Lyrics in photo: Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran

—————-

It started raining last night. An overcast head that turned into a light drizzle. You remember falling asleep to the sound of the rain just outside and Steve’s heartbeat just below your ear as you laid on his bare chest.

Now waking up to the soft tumbling rain drops against the window you feel content that it wasn’t the bright sunny morning waking you up for a change. You didn’t have to turn to know Steve was already up for the day. He was the early riser. Taking on a manager role and having to be the one to get the day started you grew accustomed to the empty side of the bed in the mornings.

Yet, it still didn’t ever fill the ever needing void of you wanting to wake up with him beside you and in you.

Trailing out of bed you automatically picked up his shirt from last night and covered your body with it. Undergarments weren’t necessarily as you opted out of them heading straight to the bathroom to brush your teeth. As if the slight limp in your walk wasn’t enough, the marks on your neck were a clear reminder of the long night you had with Steve. You didn’t mind as you pulled the shirt down far enough to see his love assault continued down to your chest. Looks like you’ll be wearing turtle necks to work again this week.

Steve sat in the living room at his desk that was pushed against the corner of the wall. The morning sun didn’t give him much to work with so the small lamp that set upon the desk was in use. It gave him just enough light to see his work in the darkened room. He studied the numbers in front of him as you finished waking up in the bedroom. Since his promotion he prided himself in having work ready the Sunday before his weekly shift began. For once in his career life he felt like he was right where he needed to be and he wanted to keep that feeling for as long as it could be held.

His fingers worked along the paper before flipping a page to make sure things were adding up correctly. Unfortunately for him, they weren’t. Taking the lenses that rested in his nose, Steve took them off to run a frustrated hand through his hair before setting them back on his face. As Steve aged, his sight did as well and a couple years after graduating high school he found himself with glasses.

The man didn’t wear them when he didn’t have too. In fact he only wore them when he was home and doing his reports. It’s not like he needed it when he was on the floor at work sealing new deals, nor did he need them to drive. He never did his end of week reports at the office so he found it more sensible to keep them at his home desk where he knew he could always find them in the same spot every time.

You stood by the doorway just in time to catch him taking what would be his final “look through” from his work. A smile instantly on your face and butterflies erupting in your stomach seeing Steve. He always looked so handsome.

You knew about the rare occasions that he wore them. Something about the way it made him look so domesticated. So soft. How it added something more to him. You openly stated to him how you wished he’d wear them more on more than one occasion that would just lead him to laugh it off.

A few moments passed by and you watched as his eyebrows furrowed before Steve closed the binder pushing it away. An aggravated sigh left him as his hands ran up his face and under his glasses before settling down. He let out a yawn and leaned back with arms outstretched. He looked around the room, doing a double take seeing you.

Happiness replaced his annoyance as he swiveled his chair to face you, keeping his arms open. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he lifted his hand towards you, inviting you over. On que he took a hand into yours and guided you to sit on his lap. Your legs sat behind the back of the chair as he leaned back gazing at you causing a faint shade of red to paint your cheeks. It didn’t matter how long you’ve been together he always managed to make you feel so loved and beautiful by a simple look.

“Sleep okay, sleepyhead?”

“Would have been better to have woken up with you beside me, boss man” You grinned leaning in to give him a quick kiss. Steve sighed nodding in agreement. His eyes glanced over to the paperwork on his desk and you could see the aggravation behind his eyes. You shrugged letting him know you knew what he was doing the whole time you slept in.

“Did you at least get everything figured out? The sales matched up correctly?” Steve hummed out a small reply as you smoothed his hair back. You knew his mannerisms well enough to know he wouldn’t stop going over his work until he felt it was correct.

“You work too hard.”

Steve only shrugged as he looked up at you. A ghost of a smile on his face as he took in the hickies on your neck knowing he left a trail that was hidden under the shirt. You worked to fix the part in his hair back in place. He looked down at your bare legs and could see where he sucked a few hickies on your thighs making his mind remember the noises he got out of you.

You graze your fingertips across his forehead sweeping the hair out of his eyes. He doesn’t say a word as you trail them down his face and right over the side of his glasses until they’re resting on the back of his head. Giving him a few light scratches that cause a smile to grace his face.

You didn’t pay too much attention to the way his fingers began to run up and your thighs. One of Steve’s love languages was touch so it was almost second nature for you to constantly feel him. Steve stared down at your legs aimlessly tracing the marks he left, “I work to provide a future for you. For me. For our family”

The family talk was one you and Steve have had. You knew he wanted children so the topic wasn’t a stranger to you. Still, every time he brought it up it was always a reminder to you that you both were growing older and the time would be getting closer. You took the opportunity seeing his focus still on your lap kissed his forehead. “Family you say?“

Steve’s eyes were now focused on where his shirt ended on your upper thigh. He had his suspicions you weren’t wearing panties but when he casually flipped the material up and saw your bare mane his question was answered. The intention to have a repeat of the night prior wasn’t initially there. Yet, Steve could never get enough of you.

“Yeah I want nothing more than to come home,” he looked up at you and kissed you lightly. “See you with a swollen bump,” his nose trailed down to your neck and peppered kisses down it. “Knowing everyone that sees you,” he made his way to your ear and his tongue took the lobe into his mouth. “Knows it’s was me,” he released it and turned your head over so he could suck on the back of your ear. “That filled you up.”

You both know where this is heading and you happily continue it on as he grows confident in his assault across your neck. You grip his sweater in your hands and take it off of him meeting your cold hands with his warm chest.

“I think you did enough of that last night, Mr. Harrington,” you bite your lip leaning forward and placing a kiss on his chest. His hands move from the back of your waist to your hips as he adjusts himself below you. His legs spread wider causing you to feel the effect you have on him against your bare core as you tighten your hold on him.

“Mhmmm,” Steve groaned out. “I think filling you up with my cum one more time will really get my point a across.”

Your hands find the waistband of his sweats and grip him. He feels you smile against his collarbone when he lets out a groan. His grip tightens and you’re sure a bruise will be there by morning but you don’t care. Your thumb sweeps over his tip and you pull him out of pants. Steve breathes heavily as you look up at him through your lashes keeping him in your hand.

Your eyes never leave as you give him a smile. Steve swears you could be a glimpse into Heaven from the way his desk light shines from behind you giving you an innocent shadow despite the sinful things you’re about to him. Gathering saliva from your mouth you keep eye contact as you spit on his cock. Steve’s eyes scrunch up and his head rolls back as you pump him gathering your spit to spread across his hard on.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Steve moans out. He runs a hand through already messy hair pulling on the ends as he watches your hand on him. Your thumb runs across the dribble of precum leaking down his tip, slicking him up. After a few more pumps you lift your hips and run the head of his cock up and down your slit making him feel how wet you are

Keeping the base of his cock steady you fill yourself up with him and settle back down hearing Steve let out a stream of curses. “Feel s’good,” he mumbles out lifting the shirt up to your hips to see you taking him fully. You stay like that for a few moments knowing just how much he loves to see you stuffed full of him.

“I want you to put a baby in me, Steve,” you give him a longing kiss making sure to swipe your tongue across his bottom lip. You move your hips forward and Steve gives you a whiney moan. His hands guide you up and you’re back down on him setting a pace that makes you both cry at the pleasure.

He takes the shirt off your body and throws it across the room. Something falls in the distance but neither of you care to give any attention to it the moment his mouth is on your chest. You grind yourself down on him relieving some pressure your clit was aching for. His tongue circles around your nipple. He sucks on it then releases it with a blow of his mouth causing yo hot let out a delicious moan.

Steve hears the hiccup of your breath and the way your stomach starts to contort in the way that lets him know you’re close. He sucks his fingers in his mouth getting them nice and wet and places them right beneath where you meet.

“Fuck,” you stutter out as his finger moves your clit. Steve groans feeling himself about to lose it just watching the way you fuck yourself down on him.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Milk this cock. It’s all for you.”

He encourages you taking your nipple back in his mouth nodding his head. You close your eyes feeling your body catch up to all the sensations overtaking you.

Steve keeps his hand on your core and takes his other hand to smack your ass. Your fingertips dig into his shoulder and leaving angry red crescent marks. You don’t care. Steve doesn’t care. All that he wants is for you to come all over him.

“I need you to come, sweetheart,” Steve is practically begging now. “Cream this fucking cock so I can cum in you.” Steve watches as your jaw goes slack and your head tosses back. You don’t get a chance to lose your pace because Steve’s hands are right there to continue it so your pleasure can hit you full force. “Let me come inside that pretty pussy.” The coil in your stomach snaps and you’re crying out as he helps you ride through your orgasm.

Watching you in such a beautiful messy state Steve feels himself contract and as you’re coming down from your high he’s reaching his. You feel him paint your walls white and take the opportunity to help him ride our his finish.

“Fuck, honey,” Steve whimpers out as he fights to catch his breath. You both let out one final moan as you grind down on him one last time and crash against his chest. His arms wrap around you as you feel the sweat of him against your cheek but you don’t care.

He stays inside of you as he lazily traces circles on your back as you both come down to earth. Your eyes search the room and fall on some newspapers scattered on the floor. A giggle leaves you and Steve lets out a hiss feeling you tighten around him. It causes you to laugh harder and he’s laughing now knowing you know what you’re doing.

“You threw my shirt like a baseball,” you tease him nudging towards the papers on the floor. Steve kisses the top of your head and rolls his eyes.

“Wasn’t a problem when I had-“

You raise your head and smack his chest preventing him from finishing that sentence. He’s laughing again and so are you. After a few moment the laughter stops and all that’s heard is the gloomy weather outside. Steve quietly says your name and you look at him. He has a guilty look on his face and before you can even question him he gives you a sad smile.

“I’ll do better.” You give him a confused look but he just kisses you. “I want to wake up with you. I’m sorry I don’t. I’ll work on it, sweetheart. I promise.”

You only nod and give him a hopeful smile knowing that Steve Harrington is a man of his word. Wordlessly, you gently take the glasses from his eyes and set them on his desk. Happiness spreads throughout your chest seeing his bare eyes. You loved him in glasses, but his bare face was always a win. He presses your head against his neck as you watch the rain continue it’s mark on the windows. Before you know it your eyes are heavy and you fall asleep there with him still inside of you.

When you wake up again a few hours later you’re in your bed. Marks are on your body. The phantom feeling of your lover is still inside of you. And the rain is still falling. It’s almost as if it’s deja vu. Except this time, the other side of the bed is filled and Steve Harrington is sound asleep beside you.

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington x y/n smut #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble

2K notes · View notes

roosterforme · 1 year

Text

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 9 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley counts down the hours until you return home. You try to dodge some appealing offers intended to lure you away from Top Gun. And then you break the news to Bradley about when your wedding will be.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, and swearing

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was up early on Thursday morning, but he had to keep himself from texting you right away. The last thing he wanted was to cause a distraction. It was your big day. You'd worked hard for it. He wanted to give you plenty of space.

He didn't like taking the back seat, but he knew now that sometimes it was necessary. Especially since you told him you understood now why he hit Josh back in June.

He'd hit that asshole in the face a million more times if he had to. Thank goodness Jake got through to you about it, because Bradley wasn't going to back down.

"Shit!" he growled when he spilled coffee down the front of his flight suit. He was tired and cranky and unfocused without you at home, and even Tramp was giving him a weird look. "Mommy will be home in two days. We'll both feel better then."

Bradley mopped up the mess, and when he made his way out to your shitty car, he was surprised to find the sky looked like rain. You loved the rare rainy day in San Diego, and Bradley really wished it would hold off until you were home this weekend. Just thinking about a rainy Sunday at home with you was too much. Bradley could practically feel the luxury of your body against his, the cool sheets rubbing his legs as he listened to you sighing his name. He could almost feel your weight on his lap while you fed him Marry Me Rooster, the sound of the rain becoming your playlist.

"Pussy whipped," he muttered, wrenching the driver's door open and ducking down into the car just as the rain started coming down. He gently slid the key into the ignition, but nothing happened when he turned it. "Come on," he groaned. The car had given him an issue every single day this week. He tried to crank it again. Nothing. "You're joking."

Dead battery. Okay, he could deal with a dead battery. He ran through the rain to the elderly neighbors' house and knocked on their door. They were sweet, and Bradley always pulled their weeds for them, so of course they would let him use their car to jump your battery.

So he pulled their Buick into the driveway next to yours, and within a few minutes, he had your car up and running.

But after returning their car and running back through the rain, he was soaked to his compression shorts. "Son of a bitch!" he growled, dashing back inside to change into a dry flight suit. He could still be on time if he left immediately, so he didn't bother drying off his hair.

He ran back out to the driveway and made it to his scheduled simulation with one minute to spare.

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

"I am so impressed by you, Lieutenant," your boss told you while he helped you test the equipment that would be used during the presentation. You had about an hour until showtime, and you were more excited than nervous.

"Thank you, sir. I love what I'm working on right now. Please keep me in your lab forever."

Bickel chuckled and lined everything up behind the podium for you. "I'll be happy to have you as long as you want to stay. But I wouldn't be surprised if a more enticing opportunity comes your way. Something might even lure you back to Annapolis permanently."

You pictured the Craftsman, and your backyard with Tramp running around. You pictured your car parked next to the Bronco in the driveway. You pictured your pretty kitchen, and the piano next to the sliding glass door. You pictured Bradley, cracking up and kissing your neck while you made dinner.

"No way. I'm set on Top Gun, sir."

"Well then, we'll keep you. And I'm going to submit paperwork for your next rank promotion come the January cycle."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to speak, but he quickly added, "Assuming you don't blow this presentation. Which I know you won't. Now, let's get started."

You texted Bradley to let him know you would be shutting your phone off shortly, but you got an immediate response that made you smile.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: I miss you too much. I'm counting down the minutes until I can pick you up on Saturday. Good luck. You're amazing.

He was sweet. He was always so sweet to you. And he was probably having a lovely week without you, but still wanted you to feel missed.

"They are about to introduce us, and then it's time to shine. Make me look good," Bickel told everyone. You made sure your hair was still in its bun, straightened your uniform pins, and then strode out to the front of the room to the polite applause.

There were several hundred in attendance to hear all about the work that was done in your lab, most of which you had directly contributed to. So you breezed through everything, barely needing to consult your notes. And when it was time to take questions at the end, nearly everyone in your group was smiling.

"How does your work relate to the portion of the pentagon budget used for the un-manned aircrafts?" asked a Commander who was seated near the front with a sour smirk on his face. "Or are you unaware of that competing research?"

You adjusted the microphone clipped to your shirt and thought about Bradley, Phoenix, Jake, Bob and Payback. You thought about Fanboy and Coyote and Maverick.

"Our work is not related to the un-manned projects in any way, sir. Simply because we don't believe in naval aviation without naval aviators. That way of thinking is misguided and misinformed. And I'll be happy to explain it to you."

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

Bradley almost never had headaches. But he had one today. You'd apparently only had time to send him a thumbs up letting him know everything went well. He hoped you'd been swallowed up by a sea of admirals asking about your work.

He also hoped your car would make it to the mechanic for him to switch it with the Bronco. He'd needed to have Nat help him jump your shit car again after work, but luckily he had a voicemail message letting him know that the Bronco was ready to be picked up. So he was planning on switching them and praying the prognosis would be that your car was not repairable.

But as he crossed the bay bridge, Bradley could already hear you complaining that the car never ever gave you any issues, so it must just be him. He rolled his eyes so hard as he drove slowly through the pouring rain, nearing the far end of the bridge when the car stalled out.

"What the fuck," he gasped, trying to pump the brakes and restart the engine. "A fucking death trap!"

Bradley guided the careening car to as safe a stop as he could manage, nudging the front end against the guide rail off the side of the road at the end of the bridge. He saw his phone lighting up on the passenger seat. You were calling him, most likely on your way back to your room after dinner.

"Baby Girl," he said as calmly as he could when he answered, but his nerves were shot.

"Roo! I've had the most wonderful day! Do you have a minute?"

He glanced around at the traffic that continued to drive past him through the rain, and all around the interior of your stalled out car. "Sure do, Sweetheart. All the time in the world, since I've got nothing else to do today except push your piece of shit car off the side of the goddamn bay bridge!"

"What happened?" you demanded. "You promised you'd be nice to it!"

"I was nice to it. It was not nice to me."

"I told you it gets finicky in reverse!" you reminded him.

How reverse gear was supposed to help him drive across the bridge was beyond his comprehension at the moment, so he just took a calming breath and said, "Everything is fine here. Please, tell me about your day, Sweetheart."

You squealed. "Well I just got back to my room, and I spilled cocktail sauce on my dress at dinner, which was very annoying. But Sonya had a Tide to go pen in her bag, which was really helpful. But anyway, I nailed the presentation, Bradley. Like absolutely destroyed it! I even shut down an obnoxious officer when I took questions. I just wish you could have been there!"

"I'm proud of you, Baby Girl. And tomorrow night is the dinner you've been looking forward to."

"Yes! And then I get to come home to you and rest and relax! And I have a treat for you that I think you're going to love."

"You got me a treat?" he asked, picturing some new lingerie in his future. "Can I get one for you too then? How mad would you be if I bought you a new car?"

"You're being dramatic. I'm sure whatever you did to hurt my car's feelings will be remedied as soon as I get back."

He once again glanced around at the dead car. "Great idea. Just come back to me, and honestly everything will be better, okay?"

"I love you. I'll see you on Saturday, sexy." You hung up without another word, leaving Bradley to once again check under your hood in the pouring rain.

"I hate you. I hope you know that," he told the car before pounding his fist repeatedly on the steering wheel.

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

Your green wool dress was the perfect thing to wear to dinner with the admirals in October in Maryland. You were feeling great. You rocked your presentation. Josh could go fuck himself. And you looked like a million bucks as you took a cab with your boss to a swanky restaurant.

"So, how are your wedding plans coming along?" Bickel asked you, and you suddenly felt like you wished you could tell him more about it than just confetti cake. The funny thing was, he was there that first day you ever met Bradley, and really, he had been around for your entire relationship.

"Coming along. Bradley has been really patient with my work, and once I get home, we're really going to nail down our plans. But something small, nothing crazy."

"Evelyn and I just eloped. Save yourselves some time and money," he recommended with a smile as he helped you out of the cab.

The restaurant was lovely, and the dinner ended up being perfect. And by the dessert course, Admiral Jennings was probing you to see if you'd ever consider Annapolis for your career.

You'd had a glass of champagne and a few cocktails, and everyone was really enjoying themselves, but you just shook your head. "Honestly? Probably not, Admiral. I love Top Gun aviation. I don't know that I would find the same niche at the Naval Academy, even though your labs are impressive."

She just nodded at you and said, "You'll keep my number on hand? If you change your mind? Your presentation was excellent, and I would love to steal you from North Island if you ever wanted to leave."

You laughed and said, "Never say never. But I plan on taking over his lab someday."

Bickel pretended to glare at you, but you knew he really wanted the best for your career.

When you eventually got back to your room in the barracks, you called Bradley since it was three hours earlier back home.

He answered after one ring. "Baby Girl."

"Roo," you sighed, and he groaned in response.

"We miss you too much. Flight lands at two? I'll be at the airport by one just in case."

"How do you manage to be deployed and not miss me?" you asked, tossing your dirty clothes into your suitcase and packing up your things.

"I miss you the entire time I'm deployed. It's just maybe a little easier to get through the day when I know there's no way I can communicate with you."

"That makes sense," you told him, stripping off your dress and admiring your tattoo in the mirror. "Are you excited about your treat?"

You heard him moan softly. "Is it something lacy that you can wear when we make another video?" he rasped, and you actually had to squeeze your thighs together.

"No.... but it could be combined with something that is," you replied, making sure you had a cute pair of clean underwear left for the morning. "Would you like that?"

"Absolutely, Sweetheart. I can't wait for my treat. And you."

When you ended the call, you spread some ointment on your tattoo and pulled on Bradley's UVA shirt for bed. You could shower and finish packing in the morning.

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

Your six hour flight was the only thing between you and Bradley at the moment, so you were anxious to take off. You settled into your window seat with the rest of your lab team across the aisle from you. You stretched out in your leggins and Bradley's huge UVA sweatshirt when you noticed newlyweds in matching Just Married shirts walk past. You smiled at them as you checked the time on your phone.

Your lock screen was a picture of you and Bradey in front of the Bronco outside the Hard Deck. Phoenix had taken the picture, so of course you and Bradley were both mid-laugh because of whatever she had just said. The sun was setting in the background, and the San Diego sky had that magical, saturated look where every color was represented.

"Perfect for a wedding," you muttered, putting your earbuds in and selecting a playlist as the plane started to taxi.

What did you even want for your wedding? Your dress was with you in a garment bag. You already had Carole's veil. You'd need pretty underwear and some shoes; you could remedy that in a day. Bradley could wear anything he wanted, you didn't care. Confetti cake was a done deal. You'd have so few wedding guests to invite, you could probably get away with a simple catering menu.

Just that pretty sky in the background would be enough.

You checked your phone calendar. Maybe November could work after all? You'd immediately loved the idea of having the same anniversary month as your parents and Bradley's parents. Your heart was beating a little faster as you considered it.

Your parents would be out for Thanksgiving. You'd only have six weeks or so to make it all happen, but now that you could picture it all in your mind, you wanted it. And you wanted it next month. It would be perfect.

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

Bradley arrived at the airport an hour early. He managed to snag an empty bench near baggage claim, and then he continued with his research. He had about twenty tabs open in his browser, each one with information for a Hawaiian honeymoon.

He had eliminated a few hotels already. Nothing seemed good enough for you, but he had found a few with nice perks. Like one with a private pool and hot tub. And another one with private bungalows where he figured you could get nice and loud. A butler to deliver room service so the two of you could stay in bed all day? Sounded like a necessity to him.

God these places were expensive. But he just smirked, because you hadn't mentioned a budget, and he wasn't about to bring it up.

A text from you popped up letting him know your flight had landed. He wanted to hold you in the worst way. He also had to break it to you that your car was in the shop with a plethora of issues. He didn't know if he should tell you that before or after he got you home, because you would definitely notice that it was missing from the driveway.

When he heard the announcement for your flight, he made his way to baggage carousel F and waited. Finally he saw you weaving through people as you smiled at him. You were the most stunning woman he had ever seen in his life, and you were his. In fact, you were wearing his sweatshirt and now running towards him.

"Roo!" Your voice made the biggest smile break out on his face as you dropped everything you were holding and let him scoop you up.

"I missed you, Baby Girl," he said just as your lips found his. Your kisses were gentle yet needy as you threaded your fingers through his hair.

He held your hips while you wrapped your legs around him. "Is this what it feels like when you get back from a deployment, Roo? Because I feel like I've missed everything about you, every inch of you, and it's only been a week."

He rubbed his nose softly against your cheek and nipped at your lips. "That's exactly how it feels. Like nothing has ever felt as good as holding you."

You whimpered softly, and he kissed you harder until he heard the carousel start up. As you eased down his body until you were standing flush against him, looking up at him, he stroked your perfect cheek with his thumb. "Sweetheart, how did you come back with more bags than you left with?"

Bradley watched you nudge the thick garment bag with your toe as you casually shrugged. "Oh, this? In the garment bag? That's just my wedding dress."

His heart was pounding, and he was speechless. He tried several times to formulate actual words, but you just smiled and kissed his Adam's apple. "Cat got your tongue?" you asked softly as he held you tight.

He swallowed a few times before he managed to ask, "You bought your wedding dress this week?"

"Mmhmm. Well, my mom did. But that's it, right inside the bag. Texted photos to Nat and Maria, and they approved it as well."

Your tone was so relaxed, merely speaking facts to him, but Bradley could barely handle this information. "That's the dress? You're going to marry me in that dress?" he asked, pointing at the plain black bag as his feet. When you nodded, he scooped it up like it was sacred and hung it over his arm. "Don't leave it on the floor!"

You just laughed and pointed out your suitcase and one of your huge plastic tubs.

Bradley gathered all of your equipment and your suitcase, but he refused to let go of your dress bag.

"Can I see it?" he asked softly as you raised the handle on your suitcase.

"Absolutely not, Bradley! Not until the end of next month," you said with the cutest grin as he laid your dress bag across the bins and picked them up.

He was afraid to ask. He didn't think his brain could handle any more information. But the smile on your face was goading him, and he wanted to know everything that was going on inside your mind at the moment.

"What's at the end of next month, Sweetheart?" he asked as you took a small step away from him, wheeling your suitcase behind you.

You turned back to look at him over your shoulder, that same perfect smile adorning your lips. "Our wedding."

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

She went and did it, made all his dreams come true. And he hasn't even seen his treat yet....that will be in the next chapter, promise.

PART 10

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster x reader

552 notes · View notes

buck-tick-stash · 5 months

Text

THE CEREMONY -櫻井敦司へ-

December 8th, 20:00.

I’m not terribly good at calculating the number in large crowds, but I’d say there were between 400 and 500 people in line for the time slot, many who were already waiting when I arrived thirty minutes early.

The staff were gentle but urged us to be efficient, and we had little time to absorb all that was around us with more waiting to enter behind.

Upon entering the venue, the staff handed us one each of a pile of pink carnations. Along the walls were bouquets sent by various companies and musicians, which continued through all the lean hallways from start to finish.

As we turned the corner, framed poster-sized photographs of our Acchan greeted us along the left wall. All were recent, taken in the last year or two, poses of him on stage in costume. The last of these struck me the most. The underside of his legs was fully exposed. And as if to provide the starkest contrast with the burlesque view, his face had the sweetest expression. An angel in black sheen and lace, standing before an audience of flowers and the moving mourning procession, with tears already falling.

In the main hall, the banners we had all signed over the past seven weeks were hung high up along the three walls around the audience, as if presenting them heavenward. The band’s speakers were hung up and in that moment were playing “Kodou,” Sakurai’s voice gently speaking like a lullaby, Gomennasai arigatou.

As we were escorted to our individual standing spots, we beheld the stage.

Nine of his recent costumes stood before us on black mannequins. The stage was absolutely lush with flowers: shades of red, pink, white and yellow that covered every inch of the stage floor and ascended upward all the way to the ceiling, from which hung three massive prints of Sakurai. The flower that he held in the image stage right was the same as many that now surrounded him.

Between the flowers and the pictures was a background of white gossamer, striped with sequins for the appearance of silver rain against white clouds.

Once the first several rows of us were lined up neatly, the staff called for the first row to step forward.

We were given only ten seconds or so before the staff called people to exit to the next hallway. The audience all advanced one floor spot, and the next row was called up.

As more of the stage became visible to me, I noticed one of Yagami’s drumheads, signed by the whole band, standing upright near the center stage for the audience to see.

Sakurai’s finger cymbals hanging on their red string.

A candelabra swollen with melted white wax and black ash.

Our row was called up. I lay my carnation slightly to the side so as not to contribute to the near toppling pile already formed. I found myself praying before the black lace of the Tour the Best costume, the second and last time I would ever come this close to those clothes. I kept my prayer short, a thank you as spoken in another one of his lyrics, bowed and reopened my eyes. I wanted to take in as much as possible before being sent away.

As our row was thanked to leave, we crossed the row of masks laid out neatly by the cymbals. I wanted to linger to look at them more, but the staff were motioning us to move quickly.

Another hall of bouquets to the right and framed photo posters to the left, this time many of which were from photo shoots.

A third hallway.

At the exit, the staff took the final tickets from us and handed us a card in a plastic wrap, the commemorative photo. It would be sometime later that evening when I would be in a comfortable place to open it.

I made a point to approach one of the staff and thank them for their work during such a difficult time. I then sat on one of the benches in the nearby open space to cry freely for a while before I was able to head out.

The work it must have taken to accommodate so many mourners is deeply appreciated, and I’m very, very grateful to the band and staff for pulling this off, especially in taking in so many additional mourners as the demand grew.

And to Sakurai Atsushi,

Acchan,

I’ve said it so many time and will continue to,

arigatou iwanakucha

thank you, thank you, eternally and sincerely, thank you

for so much music, love, and more

thank you.

#the ceremony #buck tick #sakurai atsushi #atsushi sakurai #櫻井敦司 #my text

63 notes · View notes

spiderrrling · 2 years

Text

My Dearest Eddie Munson (With Love, Eddie Munson p.2) Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary - It's been three weeks since Eddie deposited a letter in the mail detailing all his emotions, when a very familiar run down car pulls up in front of his trailer

Pairing - Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Word Count - 3.4k

Warnings - Me being sappy for three thousand words

A/N - Was not expecting to do a second part, but it kinda just flowed when I started writing it so I hope you guys enjoy!! Make sure you read the first part to this first!! Not beta read

Part 1 - With Love, Eddie Munson | Taglist

Eddie's stomach had been a pit of anxiety ever since he posted that letter. That stupid letter that he wrote one night when all the emotions just became too much.

That letter he had contemplated posting for weeks because let's be honest, it was an insane thing to do. But he posted it anyway. He could lie and pretend he didn't know why he posted it.

But he knew why, some part of him wanted her to know. Needed her to know. Thought she deserved to know how he felt.

The thought of that letter slowly making its way to her by mail racked his brain for weeks.

Did it get lost in the mail? Would she even bother to open it? If she opened it, did she read it? Did she hate him now? Had she already found someone new? Is that why she had avoided him over Christmas?

That last thought was the worst, because it was the one he was the most terrified of being true. He was terrified she had managed to get out of Hawkins and decided to forget everything in this dull little town.

Including him.

A million thoughts raced through his mind every single day and he struggled on focusing on anything but that stupid letter and the situation he had gotten himself into.

But ever since dropping that tiny letter containing all his big complicated feelings into the post box, he felt lighter. He had been able to admit something that he had kept to himself for so long.

Now all that was left was just to wait. And to hope.

Hope wasn't something Eddie was particularly good at, or patience for that matter. He also wasn't used to the post system and had no clue when that letter would arrive at her doorstep.

After three days had passed Eddie found the red shoebox he had hidden beneath his bed with all the pictures of her and songs he had written to her but never sung.

But he couldn't bring himself to open it and look through the papers inside of it. Instead he shoved it back into its usual hiding spot, left to gather dust once more.

A week passed, and still nothing. He found himself waking up early just to check the mailbox, and rushing home after school. Each time hopeful and each time left with this gnawing feeling that he couldn't shake for hours afterwards.

Then another week passed and by this point Eddie was ready to lose his mind. His day to day life had become a blurr, filled with worried thoughts and anxiety clouding everything else.

And he couldn't find the motivation to care about anything in his life anymore. Music never flowed the way he wanted it to, campaigns never panned out just right. Eddie simply became numb to all of it.

Eddie kicked himself mentally, a letter? He had written her a letter? He couldn't be bothered to have picked up the phone and called her? Or if he loved her as much as he claimed, why hadn't he bothered to drive the four hours that separated them.

It was Wednesday evening, three weeks to the day he had posted the letter. Rain was hammering against the roof of the trailer he shared with his uncle.

The season had turned from winter into spring. All the snow was gone from the ground and the usual carpet of spring flowers that decorated Hawkins had just started to return.

Eddie was splayed out on his bed, music playing quietly in the background as he stared at the book in front of him. His eyes wandered the lines upon lines of words, simply glancing over them not being bothered to take any of it in.

Each sentence he read immediately disappeared from his mind when he moved onto the next one. His fingers ran over the old yellowed pages, the spine was cracked, a sign it had been read many times over.

She had been the one to give him this book, years ago. She claimed he would love it, and he did. But he could never give her the satisfaction of telling her that she had found him his favourite book.

The thought stung in his chest. He should have told her. There were so many things he should have told her.

The rain and wind outside was still raging on, loud enough that he didn't hear the car pulling up on the gravel road outside. And he didn't hear the knocking against the trailer door, the sound completely drowned out by the rain.

But he heard her voice.

"Eddie?" Her voice called out and he immediately picked up on it. Leaping to his feet and tearing the door up. Half expecting it to have been a trick his mind had played on him.

But no, she was there. She was a mess, she looked like she had been crying. Wearing a pair of pyjama pants and a college branded T-shirt. Her hair was everywhere, chaotic and knotted. But she was just as beautiful as he remembered her. And she was there.

She was just there, standing there in the small living room of his trailer. Clothes and hair wet from the rain outside. A part of him didn't believe she was actually there. He was convinced he had fallen asleep reading and this was all just a dream.

Eddie could spot her tiny car parked along the side of the road.

For a second they simply both stood there looking at each other. Face to face for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Neither of them not sure what to do next.

The moment felt so delicate and fleeting that with one mistake, just the tiniest misshap. It would all go away and they would be left alone once more.

Eddie's eyes met hers and refused to let go, they were tinted slightly red and puffy, but they were still the same eyes he had looked into on so many different occasions. But never an occasion like this.

"I got your letter." She finally said and it snapped them both out of their trance. The pieces of paper he had written her all those weeks ago were now held firmly in her grip, slightly warped from the rain.

"You got my letter." Eddie echoed quietly, nodding slowly as he tried to all process the thoughts racing through his mind. "Do- do you want to come in?" He realised she was still standing in the doorway

"You wrote me a letter." Eddie couldn't tell what her tone was, she sounded touched but also like she could start crying any second. "And I shouldn't have- I'm sorry."

"And it's clear you've moved on. I shouldn't have sent it." It was at that moment, that Eddie Munson's heart broke for the very first time. "I'm sorry."

She could hear his voice starting to crack, the slight quiver in it as his eyes started to water ever so slightly. She had only seen him cry twice before.

Each time he did she felt something shatter inside of her. And she was standing there realising that for the very first time she was the reason he was crying.

"I never should have even written that stupid letter in the first place, and I don't know why I sent it, I shouldn't have and I know that and it's ok if you hate me now."

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, realising he had been rambling on and wasn't sure what he was even saying anymore.

They both stood there, in the small living room of his trailer.

"You could have just called." She finally said, breaking the silence between them. Tears were pressing against the back of her eyes as she spoke. "Would have saved the money on stamps."

She didn't know why she was crying, the emotions spilled over and she couldn't contain them anymore. She had been driving for the past four hours, thoughts racing through her mind the whole way there.

She felt Eddie's arms wrap around her, pushing her up against his chest as she cried. And he simply held her like that while they both cried. The smell of his shirt, his coconut shampoo, the feel of his arms around her.

It was all such a familiar comfort she had forgotten. In the moment it only made her cry harder.

When he finally pulled away just enough to look at her both of their cheeks were tear stained, but neither of them bothered to dry their tears.

At some point one of Eddie's hands had found its way into her hair and his shirt was stained with her tears, but he didn't care.

"Why are you crying?" She croaked out, her voice was raspy from crying. "I don't know." He laughed as he looked at her. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know." Their eyes met for a brief moment before they both burst out laughing, standing there wrapped in each other's arms. Eyes stained red from their shared tears.

"Did you drive here just to see me?" Eddie asked the question that had been gnawing at the back of his mind. Given their current state he could probably guess the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her lips.

"Yeah..." Her voice was soft, hushed as she spoke. "How could I not?"

"You know you know you could have just called." Eddie repeated her words from earlier. "Would have saved you money on gas."

"I don't care." She whispered and rested her head against his shoulder again. "I had to see you." The words made Eddie's heart leap in his chest.

"I got your letter and I just-" Her voice started breaking again and tears welled up in her eyes. "Shhh it's ok, you don't have to say anything."

"It was all a blur, and then I was in my car driving and I just couldn't make myself turn around." Eddie's hand was running over her hair, gently trying to soothe her, which was difficult given he still had tears in his eyes. "And then I was here."

Eddie didn't respond, and he didn't need to. At that moment she simply needed for him to hold her. She was scared if he didn't she would fall apart.

"I wrote you a letter." She mumbled directly into his shoulder. "What was that?" Eddie's eyes had slid shut and he was just enjoying the feeling of her in his arms.

"I wrote you a letter." She repeated and looked up at him from where she was standing. "After I read yours-" She trailed off as his eyes met hers again. “You wrote me a letter?”

“Can I read it to you?” Hre voice was so quiet Eddie could barely make out what she was saying. It was almost as if she was terrified he was going to say no, even after everything he had revealed to her. “Yeah, yeah of course you can.” Eddie guided them both over to the small run down couch that stood pushed up against the wall. He draped one of the stray blankets over her shoulders and finally noticed that accompanying his own letter were pieces of paper decorated with her handwriting.

Eddie took the seat opposite to her, immediately overcome by old familiar habits he laid down, his head in her lap like he had so many times before. And his eyes slid shut as she started reading the letter.

My dearest Eddie Munson

You're right, I wasn't expecting to receive a letter from you after all this time

I remember that spot and I miss spending my days out there with you. And you're right again, it did feel so distant to Hawkins we might as well have been anywhere in the world.

But I don't remember the exact first time you brought me out there. However I do remember the time we built a bonfire and grilled hot dogs, we ended up falling asleep in the back of your car.

It was after that we started keeping a couple of blankets and pillows back there because our backs were aching for days afterwards.

It's good to know you miss my DJing in the car, I believe I lived up to my shotgun role of being soundtrack master. Out here you can't see the stars, at least not as clearly as back home.

Light pollution makes it difficult to accurately see them. I miss the Hawkins night sky. I do find myself wondering now and then if we might be looking at the same constellations and if you remember anything I told you that night.

Now that night I do remember, you were so bad at spotting the stars, it's almost like you wanted me to hold your hand to show you. I suppose you did, considering the rest of your letter.

Not that I minded, I wanted to hold your hand. And you were sitting so close I couldn't help but think that if I just leaned in a couple of inches I would kiss you. I still wonder what it would be like to kiss you from time to time. I guess you'd taste like cigarettes.

It's good to know Hellfire still exists without me. I tried joining a new group here, but it's not right without you doing all the voices. I really miss all the voices you used to do.

If I focus really hard I can still hear your voice. I can imagine you sitting next to me reading me your letter.

Put those freshies through hell, they deserve a proper induction into Hellfire.

I hope you know I regret not reaching out, only leaving you with my new address and nothing else. My entire life was in that car that day, except for you. I should have made room for you in there.

Life here is so different to Hawkins, it's bright and busy and loud. It's the polar opposite to it, yet I still feel that pang of bittersweetness when I think back to Hawkins. I can't pretend some part of me doesn't miss it.

Because I do. I miss that stupid daft little town we both grew up in. I miss the stillness of life back home. But I also miss the person who always kept disturbing tha peace with whatever new adventure he had concocted in his mind.

After I moved, there was something that wasn't just right.

I guess for you it was obvious I wasn't there anymore. There was a me-shaped hole left in Hawkins. Whereas I was in a new city, a new place I had never explored before. There was never a carved out space for you and I. I had no clue about anything out here, and I missed the stability I had.

And I suppose you were the one that created that, I just didn't realise it.

I tried to fill my new life with adventures and hobbies, I poured myself into my studies and classes. But it didn't matter. There was still that pit in my stomach where it felt as if something was just wrong.

I miss it, I miss everything. I miss our theatre rehearsals together, I miss our Friday night Hellfire sessions, I miss sitting in a booth at Joanes until the early hours of the morning because it's the only place open late enough.

But more than that, I miss the person I did all of that with. You say you wish I missed you the way you miss me. But what you don't realise is that I don't miss you, I need you. I need to have you in my life again.

And I was an asshole over Christmas. You hadn't contacted me. I was too scared that you would resent me for leaving Hawkins, for leaving you stuck alone in this little town without me.

I couldn't stand the thought that you hated me, so I tried avoiding it. I tried avoiding you.

I packed away the pictures of us I had hanging in my dorm room. Shoved them into the back of my closet. Because maybe if I forgot you existed, then maybe this feeling would go away.

I went to parties, I got drunk, and I kissed strangers in fleeting moments soon to be forgotten. I even dated someone.

You're not the only one who didn't write. It's not like I didn't have your address. I still have it memorised, you know.

And of course I remember. I remember almost every single day we spent together. Every class, every inside joke we used to share, our drives to and from school. How am I supposed to forget someone who will forever have a piece of my heart? That isn’t something you can just do.

I loved cutting your hair, it gave me an excuse to look at you for a couple of hours. To touch and play with your hair. Your hair always smells like coconut, I can't smell coconut anymore without thinking about you.

Or the smell of cigarettes. Shared cigarettes as we sat on the porch during late spring evenings, passing it back and forth as we simply just enjoyed each other's company.

You know, I really wished you would have asked me to prom. I think you would have looked good in a suit. And we would have spent the night dancing to cheesy songs in a badly decorated crowded gym. And it would be the best night ever, because I would be there with you.

Hawkins is my hometown, where my family lives, in my childhood house. But you Eddie Munson, you're home. My home. Wherever you are, that is where home is, that is where I belong.

I’m sorry about the tear stained paper, your words seem to have affected me more than I realised. And I know I'm rambling, but in all fairness you started it.

I don't think you know how long I've waited to hear you say those words. And I suppose I still haven't heard them, but I read them in your voice.

Though I wish you would say them to me in person, I think hearing them from your lips would be totally different. Preferably sitting close to me in the back of your van or wherever. Just sitting close enough that maybe this time I’ll be brave enough to lean in and kiss you.

So my dearest Eddie Munson, my partner in crime, my best friend. Where do we stand now? Where do we go from here? How can I-

She stopped reading and looked over at him. His eyes were slid shut, completely focused on taking in the words she was reading him. Desperate to hang onto everything she said.

"Why'd you stop?" Eddie moved to sit up across from her, his hand resting on her knee. Desperate to be touching her in any way. He still wasn't convinced that this wasn't all a dream.

"That's when I got in the car." She whispered back to him. "I realised I had to see you, so I just stopped writing." She was sitting close enough that he could feel her breath on his skin, it sent a chill down his spine.

"So you can read in my voice?" Eddie laughed quietly and she nodded slowly in response. "I still want to hear you say it though."

"I love you." And just like that he had said it, sitting in the quiet little living room of his trailer, on the run down couch, Eddie Munson finally proclaimed his love for her. To her. And she finally got to do what she had been regretting not doing for so long, she leaned in and closed the small space between them and she kissed him.

Eddie felt as if the air got knocked out of his lungs as she did. Her lips captured him and drew him in further. She could feel the slight stubble of his chin against her skin as he returned the kiss. Desperate for each other they kissed until they both had to pull away and gasp for air.

"Fuck how I wish you would have kissed me that night." Eddie whispered to her, his voice sounded breathless and she could see his lips were a little bit swollen.

"I was scared you wouldn't return it." she admitted quietly, her hand easily finding his under the mess of the blankets and interlocking their fingers together.

“I would have been stupid not to.”

Taglist - @pastel-abyss-x @fayetheenthusiast @obi-wanakenobi @starbemo @chloebeansack @a-villain-vying-for-attention @meaganjm @xbreezymeadowsx @prettytoxix @magicalxdaydream @emmaginanni @ghoulsgon3wild-blograveyard @kaydencegilr0y @eateraa @munchabunch @eddie-munsons-girlfriend @emmaginanni @chloebeansack

Mutuals - @uglypastels @catastrofhe @naturallytom

Requested for part 2 - @intergalacticaquarium

735 notes · View notes

shivunin · 3 months

Text

Like Constellations

Happy OC Kiss Week! Kicking off with my dear @star--nymph's Eurydice and my Emmaera. Thank you for letting me borrow her, friend!

(721 Words | No Warnings)

The rain had left the ramparts of Skyhold slick and glistening. Here, near the lights of the Great Hall, they shimmered like tiny stars caught inexplicably in stone. It was a mirror to the stars the two elves discussed now, perhaps, but these were more touchable by far than the ones cast away in the sky.

“It shouldn’t be possible,” Emmaera murmured thoughtfully, looking behind them at the tiny lights. “The rain, I mean. By all rights, we should have snow on this side of the wall, too. This place and its seasons…it’s never made sense to me.”

“Stop moving,” Eurydice said behind her. “I’m not finished.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

The clouds above parted, slowly revealing a narrow slice of the heavens above. Early evening stars peered through the break in clouds.

“Falon’Din walked,” Eurydice prompted behind her.

Emmaera had no idea what her dear friend was doing behind her, but she wasn’t especially concerned. They’d grown used to spending time tucked between crenellations, Eury’s fingers quick and clever in Emma’s long hair while Emmaera told stories. What a relief it was to sit here just like this, where she need think of nothing more than whatever tale she’d been telling.

“Falon’Din walked the woods,” Emma went on, “but most of the time he flew. He wore the shape of a great owl, its feathers cast with dark spots. An owl has fine eyes for little things, hidden things, and one by one he found all of the lost souls wandering alone there.”

The soft smell of lavender began to eclipse the scent of falling rain. Emma smiled and tilted her head back when Eurydice adjusted her grip.

“He tucked each of them safely amongst the feathers of his wings, for the journey to the Beyond is a long and dangerous one. It would have been very easy indeed to lose some of them along the way. After all, it is not so simple a thing for a mortal creature to leave behind everything it knows.”

She paused, trying to remember what came next. Eurydice’s hands gave one last, decisive tug on her hair. Stretching slightly, for she’d been sitting very still for quite some time, Emma turned and let her feet dangle over the long drop to the valley below. She began to reach for her hair, but her friend caught her hand before she could feel what had been done to it.

“Keep going,” Eurydice said.

Obligingly, Emmaera went on talking, unspooling a story beat by beat: a soul lost to the woods, a daring rescue, a home among the stars. It was one she had told before, and one she never minded telling again. It was difficult to mind when she had such a a captivated audience. Still speaking, Emmaera watched as her hand was turned upright. Eurydice's cool, green-stained fingertips traced the lines there with care.

“Falon'Din is gone now, as are all the gods,” she said at last. “Even so, perhaps his dark wings stretch across the sky even now, the way to the Beyond lit like a beacon between his feathers. Even on this very night, we can use them to show us where we are and where we ought to go. The Chantry calls them by another name, but elves know his stars nonetheless.”

“Hmm,” Eurydice said. Her eyes had drifted closed during the telling of the story, but her pale lashes fluttered open again when Emma stopped speaking. Emma turned her hand over and lifted Eury's to her mouth. She kissed each knuckle very carefully, neither too firm nor too soft. Eury allowed this, though not without a faint quiver at her ears.

“Thank you,” Emmaera said when she’d finished. “Can you remind me where it is? I'm still turned around now that we've finally found this place, and the clouds…”

“There,” Eurydice said, pointing with her free hand. As if by magic, the clouds drifted apart in the direction she pointed and a familiar cluster of stars was revealed.

Emmaera scooted closer and leaned her shoulder against Eurydice’s. As one, their palms pressed together, the two of them watched the stars. They thought of words long since past, words yet to come, and tried valiantly not to think at all about the faint green tint the sky had given to the distant stars.

#ockiss24 #oc kiss week #eurydice lavellan #emmaera lavellan #dai #shivunin scrivening #is it platonic? idk. Is it romantic? eh. They can hang out somewhere in the middle #ty kat c:#does emma forget what she was talking about occasionally because some fine point of how something works has occurred to her?#of course yes

31 notes · View notes

fernandoswarcrimes · 9 months

Text

Anti-Hero x Matthew Tkachuk

“It’s me, hi, I’m the problem it’s me.”

Taglist: @morgan108 @diary-of-jj @shea-theodore @pitchandgrid @wifemase @hal3ynicol3 @alicerubyfloyd @nicanicksnica @formulafootballfan

Word count: 2.6k

To be added to the rest of the series click here -> 🌌

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

Elena had always grown up to be a smart girl, well that’s what she told herself. Matthew on the other hand got older but seemed to get dumber unlike Elena. The two were inseparable growing up due to their mothers being best friends.

It was three in the morning and she found herself standing in the kitchen quietly stirring the cup of milk and honey she made. Elena hoped it would help her fall back asleep, but it was no use. Her midnights had now become her afternoons it seemed like. Anytime she closed her eyes all she saw was everyone she had ever let down staring back at her, so she figured she’d might as well get up.

She had gotten good at hiding it, disguising it as she just couldn’t sleep.

“Can’t sleep again?” Matthews' groggy voice asked as he shuffled into the kitchen. He had woken up and realized Elena wasn’t in bed so he figured she was probably in the kitchen again.

“Something like that.” Elena mumbled, not wanting to let him in on how her mind was tormenting her. It was something she never wanted the boy to know about. He would think she’s broken, unfixable, not happy.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked as he walked over to her as she took another sip of her milk. “I’ll be okay, I’ll come back to bed in a bit. I think my milk and honey will help.” Elena whispered as she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head before nodding making his way back to their bedroom. She knew he had an early practice in the morning and it made her feel worse that he was awake and worried about her instead of sleeping.

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

Elena was a lot of things, positive, helpful, caring but she shouldn’t be left to her own devices for too long. The thoughts inside her head come with prices and vices that she didn’t want anybody knowing about she’d end up having a full fledged crisis if anybody did. This was her own problem to deal with, nobody else’s.

Not even her boyfriend.

The rain was harsh against the windows of their apartment as lightning lit up the room every few seconds. The storms would normally garner Elena a peaceful sleep but not tonight.

She doesn’t remember what started it but Matthew had been off that day. They both had been walking on eggshells around each other for the past week and it was finally about to come to light.

“I just don’t know why you're acting like this and shutting me out.” Elena said as she walked in their bedroom after him.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Matthew had muttered which caused Elena to furrow her brows at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean Matt?” She asked wanting to know what he meant by that, she had a feeling she knew but she wanted to hear him say it.

“I can’t do it anymore Elena. I’m done okay? I can’t do this if you don’t want help! It’s not fair to both of us. This relationship is supposed to be equal and you won’t let me help you, you just shut me out.” Matthew said, running his hands through his hair frustrated. He had tried helping her through whatever it was she was going through but she kept pushing him away and he didn’t have any fight left in him.

She blankly stared at him as she watched him pack a bag and give her one last look begging her to just say something or do something, explain to him what was going on but she didn’t. He then shook his head and walked out, the front door slamming shut behind him.

Elena woke up with a loud gasp as she sat up on her elbows, drenched in sweat, looking around startled. Her breathing was heavy as she recounted the nightmare she just had being pulled awake by the door slamming shut in the dream. One day if she wasn’t careful she would have to watch Matthew leave her for real because he would get tired of her brushing things off and not letting him in for the last time when she knew all he wanted to do was be there for her and help. She needed to get help.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

If it was one thing Matthew was used to, it was being a problem. Even from a young age he was dubbed as a problem child which everyone thought he’d eventually grow out of but that was asking for a miracle. He got used to it though, reveled in it even. Which didn’t go unnoticed by everyone in the league who agreed, seeing as he got dubbed one of the “shit starters” next to Konency.

It was a game against the Kings, he and Drew Doughty had been at each other's throats yet again.

Which was never a good thing.

“I don’t see how that girlfriend of yours puts up with you when you’re such a little shit. She deserves someone much more mature rather than an ignorant shit head kid like you.” Drew had muttered to him when they both bent down for the face off.

All bets were off after that comment, the older player had been in his ear all night about Elena and he had enough of it. As soon as the Puck dropped Matthew dropped his gloves and took a swing at the older player.

“You have no right to say shit about her! Or our relationship!” Matthew shouted as the refs grabbed him under the arms pulling him away from Drew who was just laughing knowing he’d easily get a reaction like that out of Matthew.

He could hear the crowd booing him as the ref guided him to the box. They were already down by three so this was just great. He sat down on the bench and threw his helmet on the ground frustrated at the fact Drew so easily got a reaction out of him. This was not how tonight’s game was supposed to go.

Matthew grabbed his bag as he got out of the car and slowly made his way to the front door, taking out his keys and unlocked the door. The winger could hear the TV slowly playing as he walked in; he sat his bag down and slipped his shoes off letting out a quiet sigh.

“Babe? You home?” Elena called out as she glanced over the back of the couch. “Yeah, I think I’m just going to shower and head to bed. It was a rough game.” Matthew replied, keeping his eyes trained on the floor as he walked over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading upstairs. If he didn’t look her in the eyes he wouldn’t have to see the possible look of disappointment on her face. He knew it had to be exhausting, always rooting for a guy like him, the unlikable, the problem. He wasn’t a golden boy, an underdog, or even a rookie anymore. He had solidified his place in the league and now had to live with the consequences of his own actions.

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

Matthew took the summer to think things over, his little brother became the captain of his team but Matthew had been stuck with the A for the last few years. He felt like he was the ugly duckling that people loved to hate. Trade rumors we’re running wild as they usually did during the summer. It’s when teams unloaded people they didn’t want for the new pick of the litter or better players they could get their hands on.

“Maybe it’s time to look at other options.” His agent told him when they had a meeting. Matthew was too much of a nuisance to be deemed captain of the flames, they wanted someone level headed and calm. Two things he clearly wasn’t so it was better that they looked for a team that would want him.

“Maybe you’re right.” Mathhew spoke with a depressed shrug as he thought it over, he had been talking to Johnny. His friend was in the same boat with the team. Feeling unwanted and misused.

“We do have an offer from Florida.” His agent spoke which piqued Matthews interest. It was a favorite place of Elena’s, he vividly remembers spending summers with her and her family down there almost every year. This could be his ticket out of Canada. He knew they weren’t gonna give him the captaincy not with how hot headed he was. It got him right in the gut when he found that out. But he wouldn’t let it get to him.

“Johnnys going to take the offer from Columbus, so if Florida’s offer is a good one then I’ll take it. I need to get out of here before they run me into the ground.” Matthew sighed knowing it was time to leave or grow to hate the sport he loved. They could kick him while he was down all they wanted but it wouldn’t kill him. He was going to show Calgary exactly what they were letting go and losing and he was going to make it everybody’s problem.

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

“I’m just that good, it’s not my fault you suck at golf bro.” Matthew shrugged as he looked at his younger brother. He had switched their score sheets when Brady wasn’t looking and was lying through his teeth.

“You’d be a good congressman, you know?” Elena joked with a grin as she watched him lie straight to Brady’s face that he didn’t switch their golf scores when he had. Brady wasn’t gullible by any means but her boyfriend was just that good of a gaslighter sometimes especially when it came to Brady.

Matthew couldn’t help but smile back as he shook his head at her joke as they both walked off after Brady back to the golf cart to head to the next hole. He knew he was a good liar; it's how he got himself out of trouble sometimes.

It was later that week while on a roadie when it hit him. A nightmare that would forever haunt him.

It was another bad game that Matthew came home from. He had gotten ejected and suspended three games for getting into a bad fight. As soon as he walked in the door he noticed something was off, the tv wasn’t playing and there was a suitcase in the hall. Alarm bells started going off as he dropped his bag and called out.

“Babe?” Matthew called out as he walked through the house but stopped in the kitchen doorway when he noticed her standing by the island with her arms crossed. “Hey..” he said shakily, “what’s going on why is there a suitcase by the door? You didn’t tell me you were going on a trip.”

“Because I’m not Matthew.” Elena spoke flatly. That made him cringe slightly, she never called him Matthew, it was always Matt or Matty. “I’m leaving.” She bit out.

“What..” he whispered, it felt like he had just gotten shot.

“I'm leaving. I can’t deal with this shit anymore. It’s all the time now you can’t stay out of the box and now you’re getting suspensions? When will it end Matthew? You’re twenty five years old, no wonder Brady got the captaincy before you.” She scoffed as she picked up her keys shoving past him as she grabbed her suitcase and swung the front door open.

Matthew could only stand there in silence as he watched her leave the door slamming loudly behind her making him flinch.

The St. Louis native gasped awake from the terrible nightmare that just plagued his mind. The fear of losing Elena, his best friend, his one true love. Hockey was a big thing in his life, but Elena? Elena was the one good thing he had and he didn’t want to let her go; he'd give up hockey before that ever happened.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees…

The Panthers had made it to the playoffs. They had managed to beat the Bruins four to three in the first round, which was a shocker to most since Boston usually made it to the finals in the playoffs so to get taken out by a team like the Panthers was unheard of.

Then it was the second round where they went up against the Leafs, it was another easy four to one win. The leafs had made it further than they had in the past but they were no match for the Matthew and the run the panthers were on.

He was their saving Grace, their problem child, and they embraced it. He was the problem, it was him. Everybody agreed he was the player of the series, anytime he was on the ice it was dangerous for the other team, scoring goals, scoring in OT, you name it he was doing it with ease.

They were getting one step closer to the finals, they just had to go up against Carolina who had bested the Islanders and the Devils. It was like everyone lost their light as Florida swept them in just four straight games back to back.

The Panthers had made it to the Stanley Cup Final.

Though it wouldn’t be everything, Vegas was on a high unlike no other and all the injuries were catching up to Florida. Vegas had managed to win four games and Florida only managed to win just one. That was the end, they had lost the final. Everything had finally hit Matthew. He had been playing through the injuries wanting to help the team as much as he could, even having Brady help him get up and get dressed because he couldn’t do it himself. He had an inkling that Elena knew about the injury but hadn’t said anything knowing how stubborn he was.

Elena though, his Elena, was there when he got off the ice with open arms ready to nurse him back to health, it made him think that maybe being the anti-hero wasn’t so bad after all. It was all just in his head like it was in hers, they both needed each other and would do anything for the ones they loved.

“You did so well, I’m proud of you. I truly am.” Elena spoke softly as she gently hugged him not wanting to hurt him. Thankfully Brady was there with her ready to help him back to the locker room so he could change and they could all head home. It made him think maybe being the anti-hero wasn’t so bad after all.

It was him

He was the problem

and everybody oh so loudly agreed.

#imagine #nhl imagine #series #midnightsseries #midnights song drabbles #anti hero #matthew tuck #matthew tkachuk imagine #this one wasn’t my favorite #Matthew Tkachuk one shot #Matthew Tkachuk x OC #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl x OC

46 notes · View notes

writingcold · 8 months

Text

Hi there. Welcome to Chapter 16. We’ve had some fluffy healing. It’s time to start buckling up. We have a few chapters left of Act II, and Act III is… fast.

If you are just joining us, you can find the Master List to the series here

A very huge hug and thank you goes out to @lvnterninthenight, @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake. You’ve heard me gush about them all the way through, and there’s still more to go. Yeah. Pretty amazing humans there.

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine. Please do not take it for your own personal use. I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story. But it is mine.

Content warning: Again, just saying this is an 18+ story for a reason. This has elements of violence, so please be ready. There is harm to women, there is harm to two major characters.

Word count: approx. 6000

Chapter Sixteen: Dark Horizons - Cora

Late Autumn storms shedding rain and snow had descended on Kingsford. The last week of October was encroaching. She felt like she blinked and six months had culminated in so much life that she scarcely believed it ever happened. To be away from the farm and to be free of Kilbourne was a feat unto itself. But to have the love of Jacob was unbelievable. To have found an equal footing and beginning of a friendship with Joshua made her smile. This family had welcomed her without hesitation, without warrant, supporting her, sheltering her and her own. Jacob wanted a family - with her. The notion filled her with something she had very little of six months prior: hope.

“Morning, Joshua!” she called as she walked through the back door, tucking her key into her bag.

“Morning, lovely,” he called back, his nose already buried in work.

“Going to have lunch with Jacob today,” she said as she started pulling out her first tasks. “Are you going to come along?”

He appeared in her doorway. “Actually, I have lunch planned with the Reading brothers.”

They laughed. The Reading brothers owned the feedlot that Josh had offered to purchase several times. It had become a running joke that the brothers so enjoyed Josh’s free lunches only to turn him down when it came time for him to pitch his deal. Josh would shrug it off and continue laying in wait for the time that he would offer half of his original purchase offer and they would have to take it as they had no one else interested in their fading business.

Cora settled in at her desk. Josh had asked her to start looking into the balances of the bank in prior years, essentially making sure that the business of the bank itself was sound. She had been reading line by line entries in the bank’s records, noting anything that looked odd or did not line up with accounts. Though she had come across a few errors, she had yet to truly find anything that would be considered riveting.

Sitting up and looking away to refocus her eyes, Cora felt a shiver. The bank was awfully silent for the hour at hand. There seemed to be no customers in the lobby at all - a true rarity. Closing her eyes to rest them just for a few moments, she felt her brain readjust. Standing, she went to the bookcase by the door to retrieve the next ledger. The scent of tobacco struck her nose and a grin tugged at her mouth, thinking perhaps Jacob had arrived early. As she turned back to the desk, another scent struck, it was dark and mildewy. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a chill touched her cheeks. Pain flared at the back of her head as a hand grasped hold of her braided bun, yanking her frame backwards. A surprised yelp was cut short as another hand wrapped around her throat, crushing the air from her. “Where’s my wife, bitch,” Harold Archer's voice filled her ears.

Her body slammed against him but he slapped the side of her head. Her ear exploded in a fit of ringing while stars cast across her right eye. He yanked her backwards once more, dragging her from her office into the short hall.

“Are you really this stupid?” Josh’s voice came from behind.

Archer spun them around, his free hand moving out to steady them. She gurgled for air, her body flinching with shock.

“Think it through, Harold,” Josh said calmly. “This cannot end well for any of us if-”

Cora felt something sharp run across her forearm like a thousand bees were being dragged by their wings, followed by pain that forced a whimper from the bottom of her gut. Josh’s face grew hard. His dark amber eyes went flat with rage. Cora gritted her teeth as the sharp point was pushed into her ribs as she started to be dragged away from Josh, Archer’s hold on her tightened as he laughed over the situation.

“Come on, little man. Come on out here so that we have more room to play,” Archer taunted.

“Fine, Harold,” Josh replied, his voice kept low and calm.

Cora’s insides twisted and jostled as panic began to pool in her feet. She could feel her arm bleeding, the shock of injury making it feel hot and itchy. Once to the main area of the bank, her eyes went right to the tellers. Both ladies were behind the locked counter, their faces wild with fear, but both seemed unharmed. The windows were all covered. Cora’s breath began to stutter as her own fear began to stab and twist in her, much like the knife that was digging in her side.

“Cora,” Josh called out, trying to get her attention. “Cora, listen. Don’t fight. Hear me?”

Archer laughed. “Oh, I think she’s gonna want to fight. If she knew what I wanted to do to her, she'd want to fight. She owes me a wife, I can just take it from her.”

Her body quivered. This was Junie’s daily experience. This man who presented such respectability was a monster. Involuntarily, she strained, only to have him dig the blade deeper.

“Cora,” Josh soothed, despite his eyes widening with emotions. “Please…”

“On your knees, Kiszka,” Archer seethed.

She watched as Josh complied, sinking to his knees, hands out before him. Her heart raced, but she stayed as still as she possibly could as the hand slid away from her neck, down her chest, grabbing a breast in a painful clutch. She did not give him the satisfaction of a reaction, keeping her eyes directly on Joshua. For a moment, there was comfort. Whatever Archer planned, Josh would ensure they survived together. She ignored the shredding of her pretty blue dress - the one that Molly had given her and had insisted she wear it on the last day of shop trial, and wear it for Jake. She ignored the man’s hand as he attempted to humiliate her before Joshua. However, the sight of Josh’s face flashing panic as he lunged forward cued icy fear to flood her brain. Archer kicked him, landing a solid blow to his face. The clerks screamed.

“You should’ve been mine,” Archer oozed. “That twin of his has been fattening you up, hasn’t he? You’re not all skinny like your sister. Has he put his cock in you yet? Shown you what a man is?”

“Harold!” Josh said sharply, rising up again.

Archer kicked him again, this time in the ribs. Before she could move, Cora felt something sharp stab into her right buttock. She hissed over the stark sting. Archer laughed before planting a wet kiss against her cheek. His body shifted against her as he reached into his pocket. The knife dug against her side causing her to gasp. Archer slammed his hand against her mouth and nose. Cora choked as powder invaded her, chalky and bitter.

“Yeah, I think I’ll enjoy taking that,” he said crudely.

“Please, no,” she whispered, tears hitting her cheeks as Josh struggled forward once more, blood smeared across his face.

“Cora?” he asked, his eyes full of fright. Each letter seemed suddenly drawn out, like she was watching him speak in symbols. “Cora? Lovely, stay with me. Keep your eyes…”

Pain exploded against her side as she was shoved down. She brought her hand up, unable to understand the fluid that was so sticky that covered her hand and arm. The world started to dim, as if colors were beginning to not exist. Her head felt heavy and her neck could no longer hold the weight. She shivered. Her whole body felt cold and hot in intermittent waves as she struggled forward. She knew Joshua was calling out to her, but the words made her eyes want to flutter. She needed Jacob. Her Jacob. She needed his warmth and gentleness. Each time her eyes drifted closed only to open again, leaving her more confused if it was real or dream. Nightmare or hell.

Chapter Sixteen: Pt. 2, Jacob

The sky was heavy with clouds that would eventually spill snow as he walked towards the bank. He had set up Mr. Thornaby in the Tiger. He had dropped in on Sam as he continued to make adjustments to the Moon now that he could take the time to really study and experiment on the rig. When he arrived at the Northern Trust door, he was startled to find it locked. The curtain on the main window was drawn obscuring anything that may have been going on. His gut twisted. His breath steadied as he listened to anything that may be happening on the other side of the door. The quiet made his mind sizzle with panic.

“You’re one of them Kiszka brothers,” a voice called out. “I’ve been waiting to get in there.”

Jacob looked up at the man that was walking towards him. “Oh, so sorry. I’ll get right on that, sir. It’ll only be a few more minutes.”

Turning, he walked across to the post office, all the while trying to make his face look calm. The clerk behind the counter looked up as he entered.

“I’m sorry to be a bother,” he said, forcing his voice to sound friendly. “I’m -”

“What can I help with, Mr. Kiszka?” the gentleman asked.

“I need to borrow your telephone,” he said, looking back out the window across the street. “I fear I have forgotten the key for the bank and it was my morning to open the doors…”

“Oh, of course. Here, step this way,” the clerk said with a wave of his hand.

He waited until the man moved out of earshot to call the garage phone. Sam picked up, his tone annoyed.

“Get heavy back up and meet me at the center with keys,” he said firmly before hanging up.

He flashed his biggest smile. “Thank goodness for baby brothers, right?”

He paused to glance out the window once more. The thought that it was Archer in that bank with Cora and Josh prickled just underneath his skin. There was no telling how long the man had been inside and what damage he had already been entailed. He dug in his breast pocket for his cigarette holder as he crossed the street. By the time he was rounding the back of the building in the alley, he had one out and lit. He paused at the windows, listening for whatever was going on, only to be met with silence. The minutes felt like days as he waited for Sam and Marcus and anyone else his brother would be able to rouse.

Two smokes lay crushed to the pavement beneath his feet. Jake’s panic was beginning to choke his throat. A muffled scream from inside chilled his heart. His brain could not identify if it was Cora or someone else in the bank. Was it one of the clerks? Was it Cora? His brain registered the tone as feminine sending his blood to raging. His thoughts raced faster than his body could keep up with them. Just as he was about to say the hell with it and break the door down, Marcus jumped down from the running boards of the Kissel as Sam parked.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam asked, holding out the keys.

“Everything’s locked up, windows are covered,” Jake said, moving towards the doorknob. “It’s gotta be Archer. I can’t hear anything, and it’s been too long to be a fucking bank job.”

Marcus stopped him, his face hard. “You two stay behind me. Jake, no matter what you see, do not feed into him.”

The vein in his forehead began to throb. Marcus had been the darkness of an enforcer for so long for the Diamante family that nothing surprised the man. Jake nodded, turning the key in the knob as slow as possible to not make sound. They moved through the short hall into the rear offices of the bank. Jake noticed that Cora’s door was open and the room empty. Josh’s door was closed, but it was easy to figure out that he was not in his office as Jacob heard his brother’s voice sharp and cold in the main lobby of the bank. The words were followed by a hard slap and grunt. Marcus had his pistol out. The man’s grizzled face was hard with the duty at hand.

He crouched his frame down and nearly crawled to the edge. Jake and Sam followed suit.

“Don’t know what the fuck you think you’re going to get out of this Harold,” Josh muttered, his voice thick. “No one will trust you after this. No one will allow a sick assed bastard who likes to hurt little girls to be a part of their community, let alone the head of their largest bank in town.”

Jake felt Sam flinch as Josh was struck. He couldn’t see anything around Marcus. Mentally, he tried to picture anyone who would be in the space aside from Josh and Archer and Cora. There would be two clerks. Or, would there only be one… His brain fuzzed over as he heard Archer hit something, but no sound followed except for Josh growling and spitting venom. Marcus looked back at him hard.

“Jacob, no matter what, do not come around this corner until I say. Do you understand?” the elder said, his voice thin with anger.

“What the fuck did he do-”

The man’s eyes held death. This was the enforcer that Sastrato Torello had sent to them for protection of his daughter for a reason. Jake felt himself melt into the wall behind him. Sam held onto his shoulder as Marcus snuck out into the main space. Archer was absolutely rambling in his fury. He anticipated a gunshot, but instead was surprised by the sickening crunch of bone, followed by screaming. Screaming of the women behind the counter bounced off the walls. Screaming of a man in pain pierced the ears. There were wet thuds that made his stomach turn.

“Marcus,” Josh’s slurred voice called out as another hit landed. “Marcus stop…”

“Fuck it, Sam,” Jacob hissed standing up.

“Marcus!” Josh called again, his voice a little stronger.

Jake stepped out into the open with Sam right behind him. The narrow room froze as his heart pounded like it was lurching from his chest and back. Sam rushed forward as Josh was trying to reach out to Marcus. The youngest grabbed hold of the enforcer’s arm to capture his attention, nearly incurring the man’s wrath. Archer was gasping for air beneath him. Josh was holding onto his ribs, cheek pressed to the wood floor. Wild-eyed, he searched for Cora. Following his twin’s gaze, he discovered she was hunched over between the wall and counter. Her eyes were closed and her head was slumped against the brick of the wall. No air reached his lungs. His jaw grew slack.

“Jacob,” Josh groaned as Sam dragged him up to sit upright. “I don’t know what he doped her up with, but I wouldn’t let him touch her, Jake. I took it.”

He looked at her, realizing that her dress was in pieces on the floor. Shrugging out of his coat he started to move quickly towards her, but her head snapped up, panic in her face. There was no recognition in those blue eyes he so loved.

“Sam, go get Sheriff Moore,” Josh was saying behind him.

“Finch,” Jacob whispered, holding his hand out to her. He wanted to weep as she tried to claw herself away from him. “Baby, it’s me.”

He tried to hush and soothe. All the while, he wanted to turn and rip the skin from the sick fuck that lay in a bloody mass behind him. The fury that bubbled in his stomach made him want to vomit. Cora’s body folded once more and took advantage of her weakness, covering her body with his coat and wrapping his arms around her. He repeated his love over and over as he smoothed her hair.

Gentle hands came down on his shoulder. He moved slowly so as not to startle Cora. Mrs. Cooper and Miss Klass were behind him, their weary faces full of concern. He was about to turn back, but Mrs. Cooper held out Cora’s long, lined coat.

“This might work better, Mr. Jacob,” she said. “Can we help? Maybe get her to a chair. Marit, go get her chair from the office.”

The younger lady moved away without a word. Jacob slid himself backward, while trying to keep his hands soft on her. The emotion choked him at the sight of the blood on her hand, arm, and on her side that seemed to be from a deep slice. His breath rushed from him as her eyes flared but her mouth remained mute.

“Steady, Mr. Jacob,” Mrs. Cooper whispered, as she moved to his side, her hand wrapping around Cora’s other shoulder.

Together, they got her from the small space. Cora started shrieking, clawing at the air, her blows landing on Jacob’s back in hard thunks. Mrs. Cooper tried to catch the flailing arms, but could only catch one before the other broke free. Marcus moved around to come behind them, clutching Cora around the middle.

“Jacob, sit down,” he directed. “You’ll have to hold her. Move that chair over, close to the wall. She needs a small space.”

Jake sat down, uncertainty pounding through his body as Marcus lowered his girl into his lap. He held on as tightly as she would allow. He caught Josh’s gaze. He could not hide the heaving emotions that pushed at him. The fear that pulsed in his brain, to the love that quivered in his chest, all of it lay bare for everyone to see as Cora writhed against him, her whimpers piercing him like blades. Marcus draped her coat over them, effectively covering her, and tucking it around her frame for modesty.

“Miss Klass, go fetch Doctor Boone. Tell him it’s an emergency,” Mrs. Cooper ordered, her voice firm, despite the tremble of fear that still resided in the moment.

“Marcus,” Josh said, his voice thin. “You need to get out of here. Sheriff Moore can’t see you.”

The enforcer’s eyes closed for a few beats of breath. Jake watched as the man was struggling.

“You take care of her, Jake,” he said quietly, the hardness evaporating from his face, replaced by concern.

“I will,” he whispered. “Tell Rosemary for me. Tell her mama that I will care for her.”

He watched as Marcus moved quickly out the back door. Cora’s cries softened. Her body shook under his touch. His eyes landed on the fabric of her dress, the swirls of color on silk that lay hidden just beneath the chiffon. The tip of his tongue pressed against his upper lip as if trying to hold back the anger, the fear that was merely the front for the guilt that loitered along the fringes of his thoughts.

He vaguely recognized that Sheriff Moore had entered with Sam, a few deputies were with them. Martin quickly posted the extra men around the front to control the crowd that had gathered. At the sight of Archer, the man needed little explanation of events. Josh was fading fast. Jake kept whispering against the soft perfume of Cora’s hair, trying to will her back to him through the drug haze that the monster had unleashed on her.

Doc arrived. One look at Cora and he was dismayed. There was no telling what Archer had shot her with. The hypodermic needle that he utilized would be helpful, but only if they had some notion of what was in it prior to injection. The doctor identified the wounds as being knife stabs and slashes that needed stitches. The puncture on her ribs was going to need attention. Josh was in rough shape. He had broken ribs, the left arm was dislocated at the shoulder, a few fingers were snapped. Archer had yet to rouse from the beating that Marcus had unleashed. Jake silently thanked the man for each shattered bone, each break of the skin, each bruise. The remorse that he was not in the building pounded only as bright as the shame he felt for wanting to have been the one to dole out the terror that had been unleashed by Marcus.

Josh’s sharp yelp brought him out of his thoughts. Doc had popped the arm back into the socket. He watched as his twin slumped to the floor, eyes closed, nearly mirroring the unchecked mass that Martin stood over. Boone wanted all three to the hospital, just to have a quieter stage to clean everyone up. Jake had not realized the noise outside the bank. A crowd had gathered, some panicked about not being able to get inside the bank, others loudly yelling about a bank robbery. Martin had the deputies load up Josh and help Jake get Cora into the Kissel. Sam drove across town, leaving the sheriff and his men to figure out what to do with the now destroyed Harold Archer.

Chapter Sixteen: Pt. 3, Cora POV

She could feel sunshine - cold - but sunshine on the skin on her face. Her mouth felt like sand had been poured inside until she could hold no more. She barely moved and her body erupted in hot, throbbing pain. Cora instantly froze, keeping her eyes closed. She drifted into the silence. Sleep rolled across her like she pictured how waves would feel if she were ever to visit Lake Superior, or dared to really travel and see the ocean. She could hear Jacob’s voice from time to time, leaving her to wonder if it was just in her dreams or if he was really talking to her but she was unable to answer. Mingled in, she thought perhaps she heard her mother. All the while, she longed for Junie. The brutality that she faced - alone - was unforgivable to be put through such a state and still call her family for what they still needed to be: family.

Cora wanted to move. She wanted to whisper through the thick mud that resided in her throat. Her limbs felt like concrete; heavy and unmoveable. Her brain wanted nothing more than stillness. She felt drawn under once more. The dark was rich and velvety, like Jacob’s voice when he would whisper to her in the night against her ear. The way he would talk to her as they made love. The way he would tell her he loved her. Her heart swelled over the notion that this man chose her. This man saw his life with her. The quiet stretched into dreams filled with color and warmth.

The next time she surfaced above the sleep waves, she could hear Joshua talking. His voice seemed so distant. He had been her protector for as long as he could. She wondered if her body accepted Archer in her frozen state. If her body allowed him to be inside. If her body betrayed her heart and mind. How was Jacob going to look upon her when she did fully wake from her haze? She wondered if she would still be the object of love for him. She wondered if Josh would have to explain it to his twin what he was witness to. The thoughts tore at her spirit. How that monster clung to the fringes of her - did he have to touch her? Did he have to violate her? Would she even know fully what he had done not just to her, but to her sister? They were not questions she needed to truly answer… did she? Instead, she allowed the wave to carry her away once more, settling into remembrances of the way Jacob walked at her side, treating her as equal.

“You would’ve been proud of her, Jake,” Josh’s voice echoed through her thoughts. “She gave that fucker no satisfaction of any kind of reaction. She was beyond brave.”

“I don’t want her to…” Jacob’s voice cracked. “Josh, I don't want her to remember.”

There was silence. Cora focused on the hurt in his voice. The strain. Whatever Archer did after the end of her memory must’ve been awful.

“Why would she need to? He -”

Josh’s words tumbled through the abyss as she plunged downwards once more. How one could feel like they were underwater but walking through the desert at the same time was beyond her reckoning. There was blood here. There was pain. That monster’s laugh pierced her with each twist of his knife. But Joshua was there. Those eyes, so much like her Jacob, but more like dark caramel, more bits of gold and mischief. Those eyes kept her rooted, kept her with him. It was not just her blood, her pain, was it? He barked and badgered, insulted and whined, anything to bait Archer away from her. So much of those moments were shrouded in gauze that was stickier than spider silk.

Sunshine on her face. She could see the light on the outside of her eyelids. It was a warm, fuzzy light that beckoned her; welcomed her home. She experimented with sliding her arm up to touch her face. Then she flexed her toes. The pain wasn’t so bad. She turned her face against the pillow, hoping to breathe Jacob’s scent in, but it was a sterile smell, one that was foreign. Blowing out a breath, she tried to clear the debris from her throat.

“Finch?” Jacob whispered, his voice next to her.

Her fingers landed on her throat. She tried to form words, but she was so dry. The grit of whatever dirt was in her windpipe kept her from saying anything. Instead, she tried to open her eyes to look upon him. Sharp rays of sunshine stabbed at her and she was quick to shut them back out. He pressed his hand to her shoulder and the sunshine dimmed against her.

“Finch?” he whispered again, his face close enough for her to feel his breath.

Cora tried again, opening her eyes to a haze of light. Her eyelids felt like each one weighed tons, fighting against herself to look around. His fingers touched her mouth before sliding across her cheek. He let out a soft laugh as she struggled to focus. She could only imagine what she looked like with her eyeballs feeling like they were moving in opposite directions.

“I’m so glad to see you, baby,” he whispered, planting little kisses across her face.

She tried to say something… anything… Only air escaped through the throb that pulsed on the inside of her throat. She tried to whisper, to get something out, but the air caught, leaving her gasping to fill her lungs.

His brows knit together as he shook his head. “It’s all right, Cora. Doc said things are bruised in your throat. Don’t force it.”

Joshua appeared behind Jacob’s shoulder. His eyes were warm as he looked at her with a little wave. His face was swollen and cut and bruised badly. If he looked like that, she was sure she looked similar.

“Hello, lovely,” he whispered. “I’ll let you have your fella, hmmm?”

She felt the corner of her mouth tug. She grimaced as she tried to move, to create space. Jacob tried to stop her, but she frowned. Cora continued to slide and rock until she was on her side and there was enough room for Jacob to lay down next to her, belly to belly.

“Oh, Finch,” he sighed, brushing back her hair. “Are you sure?”

She tapped against the pillow. He smiled as he carefully lay next to her.

“You’re probably wondering where you are. You’re in the hospital. You’ve been here for two days. You scared the shit out of me, baby. I’m so glad you’re awake.”

He was careful in where he set his fingers, where he touched and brushed against her. However, each touch was full of light and love just for her. Cora stared into his face, searching for what he saw in her in the moment. There was only concern and honest joy. He whispered against her, telling her about how Rosemary had stayed through the nights with him. He had the boys at the house, sleeping in the parlor after too much sweets and hot cocoa each night. Sam was already honed in on educating Matthew about auto engines and Jon about actual engineering. It had been two days that she had lost. Two days that she had slept. She managed to ask about Joshua and Jacob smiled.

“You find a scrap of voice and you ask about him?” he teased, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip.

Broken fingers. Fractured right arm. Left arm was dislocated. Four broken ribs. Stabbed in the thigh and left arm. She wanted to weep. Joshua had placed himself before her as a sacrifice. Jacob’s voice warbled as he whispered his love for her. His fear for her. His regret that he hadn’t been fifteen minutes earlier.

The next time she awoke, she was in her own bed, in her own home. She remembered being wheeled out of the hospital and Jacob helping her into the Kissel. She could recall Matthew grabbing Georgie’s collar and holding him back when she caught her toe as they moved through the front door. She could remember her mother telling Jacob to take her into the bedroom and how his cheeks warmed as he helped her sit down on her bed. When she stirred, she could hear the boys swarming around the house, and the base of Jacob’s voice calling to Matthew from the kitchen.

“He slept on the sofa last night,” Rosemary whispered as she was buttoning up her dress. Cora frowned, unsure of if her mother disapproved. The woman smiled softly as she was reaching for her brush. “He stayed with you the whole time. By the time we got you here, he was completely exhausted. He sat down and was asleep in moments. I dared not wake him, and neither did the boys.”

She smiled as her chin dipped. The idea that he would not be far from her made her heart skip a bit. Rosemary twisted her hair up into her typical thick bun before moving towards her with the brush. She grimaced as her mother started on some of the blood matter in her hair.

“Tell you what, I’ll get the boys through breakfast, then I’ll run you a bath,” she said with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Mama,” she whispered through the fire that still burned in her throat.

“Still pretty raw,” Rosemary remarked. “I’ll send Jacob out for some honey. It will help your throat and we can put that on the … on the …”

“Cuts, Mama,” she answered, hurting over the struggle that her mother allowed herself to show. “I’m sure he would be happy to.”

Rosemary continued to brush through the thick hair, her fingers holding firm to each section. “I do not expect you to understand fully, Cora. To have one daughter harmed by my choices, only to have a second fall prey to the same hands…”

Cora stopped her mother’s hands, looking up into her face. She appeared old and young at the same time. The woman had aged considerably since the loss of her husband, but all the more so in the past weeks after the plight of her daughters.

“I can send you and the boys to Junie if you wish,” she whispered, enclosing her mother’s hand with her own.

“I won’t go until my whole family can,” Rosemary answered, her blue eyes sharp with care. “And I don’t just mean you and the boys, Cora.”

Her chin dipped at how her mother had brought back her own words, but tailored it to her own fashion. “Thank you, Mama.”

“You just sit back and rest. I’ll have one of the boys bring you a plate,” she said as she tied the thick hair back in a simple plait.

She felt like a stranger in her skin. Slipping underneath the blanket once more, Cora stayed up, sitting against the headboard, her hands quiet in her lap as her eyes drifted closed. Her whole body still ached. The wounds pulsed. Not quite as bad as when they were fresh, but they throbbed in a way as if they were calling out to her attacker like he could hear the pain they still caused. She focused on bringing breath in and pushing it back out as her ears took in the sounds of breakfast beyond the door. Jacob’s voice wove in between Matthew’s and Jon’s with Georgie’s trill over top in excited bursts. She sighed. Jacob sitting at the table with their children trickled through her thoughts. The smile that would grace the man’s face would incinerate the room in joy. She felt herself drift upon that hope, her mind focusing on each detail in dreamlike quality as her breathing evened out and tugged her into the stillness of her heart's desire.

The warmth of him drew her from her slumber before his touch against the ridge of her cheek. Sleepily, she opened her eyes as she leaned into his touch.

“Hey, Finch,” he whispered.

She realized the house was silent. Her brows pinched as she sat up. “Where is everyone?”

“Rosemary needed to get to work, the boys left for school,” he said, trailing his fingers down her bare arm. “You fell asleep and your mother did not want to wake you. I volunteered to stay until after lunch.”

Her gut began to sink as she continued to wake. “She was going to run me a bath.”

“I can do that, although I told your mother that Molly could help you,” he smiled, his eyes soft with care. “In fact, I don’t think it would be good to miss getting those cuts cleaned.”

He stood and disappeared for a few moments. She could hear the tap clunk on and the water hit the bottom of the enameled tub. Jacob returned with a towel and a sleepy grin. He helped to get her night dress off and covered her lean frame in the towel. Into the tub and he knelt down beside it, keeping his fingertips at the water to make sure it stayed the right temperature. He helped to take the linen bandage off her side, a near inaudible hiss escaping him at the sight of the bruising, puncture, and gash that marred her ribs.

Cora reached out to him, her fingers sinking into his hair as he rested his forehead against the rim of the tub. “Jacob?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Finch,” he whispered. “I’d give anything for your body to not know violence.”

When he looked at her, the emotion that was etched in his features stirred her, strengthened her. He moved around her, washing her hair and limbs and body as if he loved each piece, each perfect and each flawed morsel of her. He dried her and redressed her wounds before following her back to her room to help her dress.

“Rosemary left you some biscuits and jam. Does that sound good?” he asked as she finished buttoning up.

When she nodded, he kissed her cheek before leading her out to the dining table. He was talking about nothing important as he rummaged around the kitchen. Cora just listened to his tone, the rumble of his words as they escaped him. The vibration of him washed over, comforting, vanquishing the harm within and replaced it with a softness that was only for him. She watched as he finally settled down next to her. He reached for her, touching her cheek with the tip of his finger.

“I’m glad I picked you,” she whispered. The sight of the joy in his eyes made her smile wider. “I’m so glad you picked me.”

He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. “Always, Finch. You’re my always.”

Yeah. That just happened. I hope you stayed with me through this chapter. Like I said at the top, we only have two more chapters until the end of Act II. Now that I said that, I guess I should say that there’s 25 total chapters and an epilogue. So, we have a lot of story left, and much of that is going to be rough. Be aware the violence only amps up as our characters hope to survive leaving Kingsford.

I do have a tag list - you can find it here

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @puzzle-gvf @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @lightmylove-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @jaketlove @redsierra1960 @gvfmarge @becinabubblegvf @wildbluesorbit @sinarainbows

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #josh gvf #sammy gvf #sam gvf #daniel gvf #danny gvf #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic au #greta van fleet au fic #greta van fleet x ocs #bootleggers and wildflowers

30 notes · View notes

shadowcrowsworld · 2 years

Text

Disappering (3)

Azriel x reader

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Y/N has left to the Summer court

! English isn't my first language!

Feyre was back home and walked into her mate who was standing in the living room with a frown on his face. "Why do you smell like the Summer Court darling?" He laid his arms on her hips and pulled her to his chest. "Y/N came to us I brought her to Tarquin." The frown on Rhys face didn't wash away. "A day after her anniversary with Az and after he was gone for a week?" "Do you know if something happend?" "I don't know what but there need to be something. Y/N looked like she was about to brake down. And when I think about it she wasn't herself the last couple of weeks." "We should talk to the others before we go to Azriel my darling. Before it is nothing."

An hour later they all meet in the house of winds. That means Cas, Nesta, Mor, Amren, Madja, Feyre and her mate. Elain and Y/N never were close to each other so Feyre thought she doesn't need to bring her. "So what is it that you felled the need to wake me up this early brother? After I missed my mate for a week." Cas mumbled, she could see how sleepy he was leaning against her sister "When I need to guess it has something to do with Y/N." Amren said eyes fixed on her. She definitely had talked to Varian this morning. "What is with the little monkey and why isn't Az her then?" "I brought her to the Summer Court this morning."

Everyone except her mate and Amren looked shocked. Even in the face of her sister she could see that Nesta wasn't expecting that. "Madja do you know something. Did something changed in her behaviour?" Rhys tried to get to the point. "She stayed longer at work. First I didn't think much about it but then she looked tired every morning like she didn't sleep. I send her yesterday home early I thought Azriel could bring some peace to her and allow these to to spend there anniversary together." So this was going on longer and wasn't just a small argument between the two. "I have met Y/N in the streets sometime ago and it was raining like hell and she didn't seem to care about it." Amren added to the list. "She was restless when she was her with me. Every evening she walked trought the house but I let her be. I thought she would come to me when she was ready to talk." Her sister and Y/N were friends like she and Y/N but it seems like she didn't go to nether of them. The problem was none of them knew what was with there friend. That she left as far as she could. "Cas when you know something open your mouth." Her mate said and she looked to the General who fiddled with his shirt.

"Cas talk now." Mot said "or I ask your mate to get it out of you." Feyre was sure that her sister won't hesitate and do if he don't use his mouth. "I love that bastard I really do but I think the little monkey ran away from our brother." Cas looked up and found the eyes of his other brother. "I don't know how much you notice it but I just came to the point were I could see clear when I picked her up." "What do you mean?" It was like none of them existed and the brothers were alone.

"I don't think he told her that we were leaving last week. She looked so shocked before she tried to play it of. And then I started thinking. Did you notice how much time he spent with traing, was with one of us or was with Elain. Sometimes I just smelled Elain on him and not even a little bit of Y/N." She could see how her mate was thinking about the last couple of weeks and you could the realisation in his eyes.

That can't be Y/N was his mate why did he smell like her sister. "There is more." Mor said. Oh please don't tell us he cheated on Y/N. "I don't know if it was just for the week but we all know that Az like to leave some of his shadows with Y/N expect when he is gone and is spying around. So I would say that he left some here with her." Everyone nodded but before could keep on talking Madja interrupted her. "They were gone before last week. I'm not sure when they left but with you saying that. I can't even make out a point when there were around her wrist the last time." That is definitely not good he always used them as a protection for her and because they really adore Y/N. In the beginning of there relationship he had a hard time to hold them on a leash because he feared they would scare Y/N.

"Cas I think we need to talk with our wonderful brother." Feyre could her the anger in her mates voice and youbcould see it in Cas face. Y/N was for the two like a small sister and Az was now standing on the wrong side for his brothers.

The two men left trought the door. Mor brought Madja back in the city and Amren left who knows where. And she was left with her sister. "I think we need to talk with our sistere as fell." Feyre never saw her sister being angry with there sister but the day has come today and she couldn't denay she was mad at her as well. Noone should stand between mates especially, when they are happy with each other.

----

Part 4

Tags:

@issybee0611

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #cassian #rhysand #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #fanfic

178 notes · View notes

bbangsoonie · 1 year

Text

days in memory

member: jaehyun (hyunjae) genre: angst word count: 3,385 synopsis: jaehyun reminisces the past as he longs for you and his youth

The bear keychain bounced against your backpack as you ran ahead. The wind blew strands of hair into your face but your smile remained unfazed.

“Come on, slowpoke!” you teasingly yelled.

Jaehyun watched you from the window. His apartment was only a floor up from the ground, meaning he could converse with you from the comfort of his bed.

“What are you up so early for?” he grumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“It’s the first day of senior year, Hyunjae,” you grinned.

Hyunjae was the nickname you gave him since the start of your friendship. There were too many Jaehyuns at your school and you wanted to specially differentiate him from the others.

“Yeah but you’re like 20 minutes early.”

“I wanna be the first to choose a seat!”

“Good for you. I don’t care where I sit, so I’m gonna sleep in a little more.”

“You’re really not gonna come with me, Hyunjae?” your expression was a mix of pouting and huffing.

“We’re literally in the same homeroom for the 6th year in a row. You’ll survive 20 minutes without me,” he rolled his eyes as he climbed back under the covers.

“Don’t complain about your seat later!”

Jaehyun gasped as he jolted awake. Glancing at the clock, he sighed.

7:12 AM.

Every year on this day, his body woke him up at this time with the same dream. Or was it a nightmare?

With a grunt, he got up to start his day.

He began by turning on all the lights to rid the place of any darkness. It was a habit he picked up over the years. He couldn’t explain why it brought him comfort. It just did.

Trudging over to the bathroom, he relied on muscle memory to go through his morning routine. He blanked out until he was done freshening up.

Staring at the empty fridge in front of him, another sigh escaped his lips. He had forgotten to go grocery shopping last week.

He threw on a hat and slipped into a pair of worn out sneakers to head out to the nearby mart. It was a small family-run shop located in front of a bus stop.

As he was looking at the cases of water bottles placed outside, he heard footsteps rush by him. The noise made him turn around, catching sight of two teenagers running towards the departing bus. They were a second too late, causing them to groan in frustration.

“Kim Sunwoo, this is all your fault!” the girl accused.

“Me? Oh yeah because I’m the one who spent 15 minutes putting on makeup,” the boy retorted.

“15 minutes is really short for makeup!”

“Whatever. Now we’re gonna be late for school.”

Jaehyun eyed the uniforms they were wearing. Hanlim Arts High School. His alma mater.

He almost chuckled at what seemed to be a familiar scene. You used to always blame him for being late. Even if he was ready and waiting outside by the time you ran out the door with your bow in your hand.

When the bus inevitably passed you two by, he would help you put the bow on as you waited for the next bus to arrive. Bickering all the while.

The old lady’s voice snapped him back to reality. He quickly picked out some things before paying and leaving.

Just like the passing sunset Memories of being immature and innocent They make me stop in place And draw out the days in my memory

By the time Jaehyun left for school, it was raining. It was a complete change of weather that caught everyone off guard. Wondering if you made it to school dry, he grabbed an extra umbrella for you to use on the way back home.

The sky angrily greeted him with a thunderclap. It nearly made him jump in surprise.

“Better hurry up to meet Y/n before she starts crying,” he mumbled to himself as he made a run for the bus stop.

You were terrified of thunderstorms. The loud noises made your heart race and your body tremble. Only Jaehyun took to comforting you without making a snide comment about your fear at the age of 17.

He anxiously waited for the bus that was delayed by the sudden downpour. He barely managed to squeeze inside before the doors closed tightly behind him.

Unluckily for him, he arrived at the school gate 10 minutes late. The dean shook his head as he handed him a detention slip, to which Jaehyun whined at.

“Come on, Mr. Choi, how could I have prepared for the storm that wasn’t even predicted by the weather app?”

“Hurry up and go to class. You’re already late and you’re getting wet.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jaehyun begrudgingly complied.

When he finally made it to the classroom, the teacher was in the middle of introductions. Sheepishly apologizing, he scanned the room for an empty seat and made a beeline for it.

It was straight in the middle. Literally in the middle of the front and back rows as well as the left and right rows. Your voice nagging at him to not complain echoed in his head. He could already picture you snickering at him.

Except you weren’t.

He looked around but couldn’t find you. Puzzled, he wondered if you tricked him into thinking you were in the same class as him.

“Y/n?” the teacher called out.

When you didn’t reply, she looked up from the roster and eyed the empty seat in the front.

“Absent,” she said as she checked off your name on the sheet.

“Excuse me?” Jaehyun found himself raising his hand before he even realized it. “There’s no way Y/n is absent. We live in the same apartment complex and she left for school before I did.”

“Well, she’s not in her seat so that makes her absent.”

While the teacher continued to take attendance, Jaehyun pulled out his phone and hid it under the desk to text you.

After asking about your whereabouts, he asked if you were okay amidst the thundering. When you didn’t respond to his messages, he began to worry.

He snuck out at the end of first period to go to the bathroom to call you. It rang until it reached voicemail. Now he was really worried.

You were a nerd who was excited to pick your seat in class. Not the type to skip school on the first day.

After 3 missed calls, he hesitated to call your mom. What if he was just overreacting? What if you had finally decided to rebel a little for the first time in your life and he would be the one to ruin it?

His fingers fidgeted in contemplation, hovering over the phone screen.

“Whatever. She’s tattles on me all the time,” he decided as he looked for your mom’s number.

“Jaehyun?” Jacob waved his hand in front of his friend’s face. He looked over to Younghoon, who shook Jaehyun out of his memory.

“You okay?” Younghoon asked carefully.

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” Jaehyun apologized as he poured himself another drink.

His friends stared at him with concern in their eyes. Sensing this, he looked up and forced a laugh.

“Really. I’m fine,” he lied.

He wasn’t fine. Everyone knew that. And he knew that as well. If anything, he was trying to convince himself more than others.

“We can talk about… what happened, you know,” Younghoon assured.

“Today marks 3 years, right?” Jacob sadly recalled.

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched at the mention of the incident. His attention turned to the raindrops hitting the window outside. The forecast had warned him of a storm.

When it began to thunder, his heart ached in memory of you. Unable to bear it any longer, he excused himself from the table.

He stepped outside in hopes of clearing his head. The canopy roof did little to protect him from the rain. It did, however, hide the tears that escaped from his eyes.

With the sound of the raindrops as my companion I used to fall asleep during those endlessly happy times I’m thinking about those days with tears

4 days had passed since your disappearance and the entire town was thrown into a panic. After you were reported missing, the community came together to look for you.

Jaehyun was summoned to the police station for a witness statement. He wanted to do everything he could to help but his last encounter with you haunted him.

“You’re really not gonna come with me, Hyunjae?” your voice lingered in his mind.

“You’ll survive 20 minutes without me,” his own voice mocked him.

If only he had gone to school with you that day. If only hadn’t chosen a mere 20 minutes of sleep over his best friend. If only he wasn’t late and had noticed you were gone earlier. If only he had immediately called for help.

Such regrets consumed him as the cops around him were busy picking up calls and having emergency meetings. One got away from the chaos long enough to finally take his statement.

“I have here the first communication we had with you on the day of Y/n’s disappearance,” the cop said as he flipped through pages. “You were the last person to see her.”

“I told another officer exactly what happened that day,” Jaehyun’s head hung with guilt.

“Yes, we just need a little more insight into Y/n’s personality and life to fully rule out a couple of scenarios. And maybe retracing your steps could help you remember an important detail.”

“She would never just take off without a word. She’s always been mature and responsible. She’s the one who drags me to school and even left early for the first day because she was so excited for our last year of high school.”

“And you don’t know of any changes or new issues she had?”

“There’s absolutely no possibility of her hiding anything from me. She’s the type of person who just has to share whatever’s going on in her life. She also hates being alone so she wouldn’t wander off by herself. If she wanted to go somewhere, she’d beg me to go with her and if she was planning to go somewhere, she’d brag about it to me.”

He felt hopeless as he watched the older man in front of him write everything down. How would this information be of any use?

“Is there anything that would help identify any traces of her?” the officer asked.

“She has a scar above her collarbone from a surgery. A-And she jokes about how she sheds more than a dog because she always leaves a trail of hair behind. Could a police dog maybe find her through that?”

“I don’t know about that, kid,” he sighed. “We have some stuff we found on the path you two normally take to school. Could you come with me to see if you recognize anything to be her belongings?”

Jaehyun nodded before following him to the evidence room. He felt a chill run down his spine the moment he entered.

He put on gloves and began looking through the items. A broken lipstick. A notebook. A hair pin. A reusable water bottle.

Then he saw it. The bear keychain he gifted you on your first Christmas together.

With a shaky hand, he reached into his pocket to pull out his own matching keychain. He compared it to the dirtied one on the table.

A wave of dread dropped his body to the ground. Before he could hear the cop yell out for help, he lost consciousness.

Jaehyun still had the bear with him every second of every day. It symbolized a lot of things. Seeing it gave him hope. Holding it made him feel like you were still with him. Talking to it eased a tiny bit of the pain in his heart.

He was doing all of it back at the table in front of Jacob and Younghoon. Drunk, of course. His sober self would never let his friends see this vulnerable side of him.

“You’re playing a very cruel joke on me, right?” he chuckled, petting the bear’s head. “Well, the joke’s been running for quite a long time now. It’s not funny anymore. In fact, it never was. But if you come back, I’ll forgive you for it.”

Jacob quietly emptied Jaehyun’s glass into his own. Any more alcohol in his system would certainly cause a scene.

“Or are you mad at me? Did you decide you no longer wanted to be friends?” Jaehyun pouted.

It took every ounce of will in Younghoon to hold back his tears. Jaehyun was the only one who never moved on from that day. He still believed that you were alive.

“If not that, what else could it be?” Jaehyun frowned as he tried to come up with an answer.

“Jaehyun-”

“See that? It’s always Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun. No one calls me Hyunjae anymore. How irresponsible of you. You came up with the nickname so you gotta keep it going.”

Younghoon had to step out after that. He didn’t have the confidence to choke back his cries anymore.

He and Jacob also lost you back then. He was closer to you than Jacob was, but the 4 of you were close nonetheless.

Your disappearance took a toll on everybody. Everyone mourned and felt a hole in their lives. But Jaehyun had it the hardest.

He blamed himself and spent a whole year relentlessly searching for you. He was burnt out and devastated by the end of the second consecutive year of grasping for straws. Entering the third year, his coping mechanism switched to convincing himself that you weren’t gone.

The image of the bear keychain swinging off your backpack flashed in front of his eyes every time your name was brought up. And each time, his hand reached inside to squeeze his own bear keychain.

“Not very “best friends forever” of you to leave me hanging like this, Y/n!” Jaehyun’s voice raised, drawing attention from neighboring tables.

Jacob took this as his cue to take him home.

“You think she went to Australia without me? She wanted to go for like years. Maybe she just dropped everything to study abroad there? Or maybe she went to Canada! She loved hearing you talk about Toronto.”

“Let’s get you home, Jaehyun.”

“Call me Hyunjae.”

“Okay, let’s go home, Hyunjae.”

Covered by the traces left by time Will I be able to find the days of my youth? The stars in the night sky that shined on me Are they still in the same place?

A funeral was never held for you. Like Jaehyun, your family refused to believe the worst. They left your room untouched, entering it only to keep the dust from piling over your stuff.

As months went by, the “missing” posters faded in color and nature started taking them down one by one. Your case went cold and your whereabouts remained an unsolved mystery.

Despite all that, Jaehyun persistently went around neighboring areas to put new posters up. Almost all local businesses knew him and had a poster hanging in their store.

Like that, he grew older but your smiling face in the picture didn’t. Your social media accounts stayed the same, offering minimal solace.

He looked through your old posts, reminiscing. His favorite was your most recent one—or rather, your last.

It was a photo dump on Instagram, highlighting your last summer together. The two of you hung out nearly every day. That year, you went to Everland, the beach, and Gyeongju.

Now, he could only bitterly smile at the memories.

The first New Year without you broke a lifelong tradition. Your family and Jaehyun’s family usually spent the holiday together but that year, it was different for obvious reasons. He expected that.

What he didn’t expect, however, was an email from you.

His heart dropped at the sight of your name in his inbox. He had to pinch himself to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

“Hi Hyunjae! Wow this is weird and embarrassing. I really hope my future self doesn’t regret this. I scheduled this email to automatically send at midnight. Why? Because I’m a scaredy-cat who can’t bring myself to confess. Everyone around us keeps telling me how painfully obvious it is that we both like each other. Yet I still can’t find the courage to say the words just yet. So this is a time bomb I’ll have to dismantle before the new year comes. If our friends are wrong and you actually don’t have feelings for me, then uh this is awkward. And New Year’s breakfast will be really awkward. If you feel the same way, wear a purple shirt in the morning. If not, wear black. Wear any other color and I’ll kill you for you confusing me.”

He laughed and cried at the same time. He didn’t think that was possible.

Once the initial shock wore off, he completely broke down. The sobbing shook his entire body and his heart physically hurt.

He wore purple on the first of every month since then.

Jaehyun woke up with a throbbing headache. He groaned, kicking himself for the consequences of his own actions.

He dragged himself to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of cold water. He gulped it down in seconds and let out another groan before plopping his torso onto the counter.

After staying like that for a bit, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling through pictures. A soft smile rested on his lips as he picked out that week’s highlights to compile into an email.

With 5 photos attached, he began to type out a letter.

“It’s officially been 3 years, Y/n. 3 years without you feels like 30 years. The first year was full of desperation. The second year was when despair started to kick in and I became a little delusional. Even now, by sending you these emails, I convince myself that you’re out there somewhere reading them. Or that they’ll be here for you to catch up on missed times when you come back. All you need to do is come back. Everything is exactly how it was since you disappeared. Your parents keep your room clean and I have all these photos and updates for you to know that not a day went by without me thinking of you. Best friends forever means forever. Forever means I will wait for you until you’re by my side again. I believe that just as much as I’m searching for you, you’re also trying hard to come home. So please don’t give up. I won’t either. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, though sooner is better. I miss you and I love you so so much. I won’t be at peace until I’m able to say it to you in person.”

After hitting “send,” he stared at the suit hanging up. He had left it out in preparation for his internship the next day.

The image of you in your school uniform haunted him each time he saw himself in formal wear. He was aging in the mirror but you remained a student in his memory.

He didn’t get to see you graduate. He didn’t get to see you go to college. He didn’t get to see you get a job.

Time stood still without you. He looked at your pictures every day to make sure your face never became fuzzy.

He was riddled with guilt but made the decision to live to find you and to build a life for you to come back to. He went about his daily routine but at the end of the day, you were the last thought on his mind.

Today was no different.

He pulled himself together to get ready for class. He never missed or was late to school ever since that day.

“I’ll see you later, Y/n,” he smiled at the framed photo of you two before grabbing his things and leaving.

My dreams of my first love are far away now But my heart is still the same The flowing tears are asking me Can’t I go back to those times?

tag list: @wooyoung-a @cloudskyu @bb-fic-rec @junjungsunwoo @karsohn @changmin-wrlds @jwnghyuns

157 notes · View notes

p-taryn-dactyl · 2 years

Note

ooh maybe you could do some bucky x reader angst?? like angsty angst. that could be cool!

A/n: BUCKY ANGST AHAHAHA you know me so well. Also…this is very late I apologize :( word count: 1.1k warning(s): reader has died - angst - depressing - based on In The Stars by Benson Boone

In The Stars

Sunday mornings were your favorite

I used to meet you down on Woods Creek Road

You did your hair up like you were famous

Even though it's only church where we were goin'

Bucky slowly blinked awake, the stillness of the air keeping him in bed. He rolled over, staring at the empty spot in his bed, a heavy weight on his chest. Sighing, he sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. It was Sunday. You loved Sundays. You said it was your excuse to look your best, dolling up your hair and dressing in your best clothes. He could still smell your signature perfume lingering in the air. Checking the clock, Bucky just layed back down, having no reason to be up this early anymore.

Now, Sunday mornings, I just sleep in

It's like I buried my faith with you

I'm screamin' at a God, I don't know if I believe in

'Cause I don't know what else I can do

He woke up around noon, dragging himself out of bed to go into the kitchen. His pace picked up as he smelled breakfast, his heart rate increasing at something that couldn’t be true. He slid into the kitchen, his face falling when he saw the empty room, lights dimmed and appliances untouched. Your memory stained this room. You would spend hours creating meals that looked like they were straight out of a magazine. You would dance to music, spinning and twirling on the tile, making Bucky join you. Often you would forget something on the stove, your playful dancing quickly turning into frantic movements. Those nights were Bucky’s favorite. You would pout on the couch over your ruined meal, watching a movie snuggled up against Bucky’s chest as you ate a microwave dinner.

Now, Bucky wandered aimlessly through the kitchen, heating up leftovers that Sarah and Sam had dropped off a few days ago. He felt anger course through him when he saw the picture of you, the day he had proposed. Your smile was large as Bucky lifted you in the air, twirling you around. It was a few weeks before the accident. Before he got that god forsaken call. Punching the island with his metal arm, Bucky let out a cry. He didn’t know what to do now. You were his future and now you were gone.

I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

Your funeral was a sunny day, something that irked Bucky to his core. You were his light, his sunshine, and the sun had the audacity to shine. He begged the sky to rain, to match what he was feeling inside but all that happened was the clouds parted to reveal even more golden light. When you were lowered into the ground, Bucky felt a piece of his soul be buried with you. He felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder, the dreaded question leaving his lips.

“Do you want to say goodbye?”

Bucky shook his head while letting out a sob, hot tears pouring down his face.

“I can’t Sam. I can’t say goodbye because that makes this permanent. That means forever.” His voice was like broken glass, shards of emotion pouring out with each word. Sam let Bucky lean on him as the man sobbed, his tears staining Sam’s suit. In Bucky’s hands he clutched your necklace to his chest. A simple silver charm in the shape of a dove dug indents into his chest. You used to wear it everyday, never taking it off once. You were buried with the ring he gave you so now he pledged to never take this chain off, never to let the last piece he had of you be lost.

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

And left the rest in pieces

The days after your funeral were a whirlpool of emotions. Mostly anger, denial, and confusion racked Bucky’s brain. He threw furniture around, broke bottles against the wall, screamed as loud as he could with every breath. Some nights, he waited on the couch, facing the door, waiting for you to walk in. Waiting for you to tell him it was all a nightmare, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him and dry his tears.

But you never did.

Diggin' through your old birthday letters

A crumpled 20 still in the box

I don't think that I could ever find a way to spend it

Even if it's the last 20 that I've got, oh

Your family asked for some of your things, something to hold on to. Bucky understood yet couldn’t shake the anger he held towards their question. He had piled away your things into a closet, out of sight so he couldn’t be plagued by the memories. He found a box full of birthday cards, going back to your highschool years. Each one was worn, like you had reread them a million times. Each one resembled a smile he would never see again. One card caught his attention, a piece of money sticking out the side. A crumpled twenty dollar bill fell into his hand when he opened the card. He remembered when you received this card, the money from your ailing grandmother made your eyes well up with tears. He swore to never use the bill, even if it’s the last amount of money he had. He would rather go bankrupt than lose this piece of you.

I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

And left the rest in pieces

Bucky sat by your grave, clearing away the dead flowers and grass. He planted new fresh flowers, dahlias, your favorite. The wind swirled around him like a warm hug, giving him an illusion to comfort. Tears fell down his cheeks as he stood up, leaning against the stone cold of your memorial. He took a deep breath before leaning forward to kiss your grave. He clasped your dove necklace around his neck, the cold charm centering his mind. He whispered against the stone, his words lost to the wind.

“I love you Y/N. Goodbye.”

a/n: …i don’t know if this is good or not but i have wanted to write a fic based on this song for a while so i hone you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading <3

#bucky angst #bucky barnes #bucky x fem!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x y/n #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #the winter solider fanfiction

189 notes · View notes

vldsideblog · 5 months

Text

vld x pjo au chapter 1

okay, there probably a few typos, but I want to put this here before I put it onto ao3. I also don’t have a title for this au so it won’t be on ao3 till I think of one anyway. Enjoy. it’s a long post, about 3000 words

Shiro was tired. He was tired of feeling alone, he was tired of his low paying job, he was tired of the price of his favorite gas station drink always rising.

The Arizona tea in his left hand was cold against the knit fabric of his gloves, the chill seeping in. He took another swig as he traced his steps from the bus stop back to his apartment. His living space was small, the walls were thin and the heating system barely worked. But Shiro knew it was all he could afford.

He was lucky that he could afford an apartment in his situation.

Not even three months ago his grandmother, his last living family member, had passed. It was a bad fall, no one had expected it. And Shiro was left alone. An eighteen year old who only just finished highschool.

He’d planned on taking a gap year, but with how things were going for him, he severely doubted he’d even be able to attend college. So much for astrophysics.

So he was stuck in a shitty job, in an average town, with a not so average life. Because ever since he was a kid Shiro was fighting for his life, and not in the metaphorical sense. No. In the ‘wild and absurd monsters keep attacking me at random and the only thing that seems to kill them is a baseball bat I found in a parking lot’ kind of way.

And Shiro was exhausted.

Working for a gym definitely hadn't been his first choice of jobs, the floor and air were always sticky with sweat, and he had to wake up early as sin to be on time for his morning shift. But it paid the bills, kinda. Last month he’d also had to pick up a job at a local coffeehouse, with all the college kids studying for their lives, the place was open 24/7. So Shiro worked the night shift. He barely slept anymore due to his schedule.

So he was overworked and miserable, one of the only bright spots in his day being the Arizona tea he bought himself on his way home from the gym. Even as its price hiked over one dollar (a true crime) The sidewalk beneath his sensible hiking boots was slick with wet leaves. It had rained that week, unusual for the area, but appreciated nonetheless. Even if it made things more cold and sad.

Shiro glanced up at the overcast sky, it looked strange. As if he was staring through a warped glass. He could almost swear he saw a misty horse in the clouds.

Either the sleep deprivation was finally catching up to him, or there were more monsters on his tail. It had been a few weeks since he was backed into an alley by a very angry boar. It had taken an hour and a lot of trying to climb dumpsters and apartment buildings to get rid of the thing. Like all monsters he’d encountered, it disappeared into golden dust once he slayed it.

Shiro really hoped it was sleep deprivation. He didn’t have time to fight for his life today. He only had so long to rest before his part of the night shift at the coffeehouse. And he needed the rest.

So he ignored the strange clouds and continued his walk home. He unlocked his rickety door and set down his backpack, content to sleep until his next alarm went off. Shiro finished off his drink and face planted into bed, his muscles screaming at him for daring to use them. Content to ignore the compression brace on his knee, it would hurt when he woke but he didn't care enough to remove it at that moment.

Maybe the slight thrumming in his skull would be gone when he woke up, he was much too tired to scrounge around for headache medicine, he only had so long to sleep before his next shift.

Something was growling into the cold air around Shiro. A fur covered creature of some kind stood in front of his collapsed body. Shiro’s palms were stinging painfully, but he wasn't sure why. He wasn't sure of a lot of things actually.

Like why he was in a dead end alleyway, or why he was on the ground, only propped slightly by the trash bag he was leaned against. ‘Gross, I just showered too.’’

Or why a cloaked figure stood just yards away, purple mist surrounding them, only illuminated by a flickering street light, and the moo. A nails on chalkboard laugh ringing into the night. A dread creeping into his gut.

But what Shiro was most confused about was why the strange creature seemed to be protecting him. It stood a bit over two feet tall, matted tail swinging slowly behind it like a warning. He could tell now that the growling was coming from this animal, and it was directed at the hooded figure.

Only then did Shiro realize the cement below the creature was pooling with red liquid. Blood.

And as the creature lunged forward with a cry, the hooded figure disappeared in a cloud of purple mist. Something Shiro couldn't understand escaping their lips.

He woke with a start, a light coat of sweat sticking to his skin.

He was used to strange dreams, but they only came so often. And tended to prophesize his near future. Once as a child he’d had a dream about lightning flickering in the skies above him. One week later he was struck out of the blue, not a cloud in sight. It was a miracle he survived, and in some kind of medical phenomena, he had almost no lasting damage. The only things he carried from the incident were; a staticy feeling in his body when a storm was near, and the Lichtenberg figure scars arching down his back from the impact spot, only stopping when his spine ended.

So when Shiro had strange dreams, he paid attention to them. As best he could at least, as he only remembered his dreams for so long, rediscovering them only after whatever future he’d glimpsed had happened. So he tended to have a strong sense of deja vu with his life threatening predicaments.

Due to his tired overworked brain, he rarely thought to write his dreams down, truly a testament to the fact that his brain was not fully developed.

So Shiro, sticky with unsettling dream related sweat, turned over in his creaky twin sized bed and closed his eyes, determined to rest until his alarm startled him out of his skin with the first few notes of The Black Parade, (after all a emo phase never truly leaves a person.)

Unfortunately for his dreams of proper fulfilling rest, the sun was hitting the point in its journey across the sky where its blinding rays hit him right in the fucking eyes. No matter how he shifted and squirmed in his sheets he couldn't escape the reminder that he was trying to sleep through the day because he worked the night shift at a coffee house filled with stress ridden collage kids. It was a depressing thought.

So, Shiro kicked off his blanket and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, trying to erase the sleepiness. He was determined to make it through the day, whatever purple mist and cackling ladies had to say about it. He pushed himself up and set his feet on the floor, hanging his head in exhaustion.

He hobbled his tired bones over to the small kitchen counter of his one bedroom apartment and set a kettle on the stove. Ever since eighth grade he’d been drinking a cup of tea when he woke up, a habit his grandparents had instilled in him. What they didn't need to know was that he was drinking highly caffeinated black tea and not even bothering to remove the teabag after it finished steeping. Or that half the time he didn't even bother with the kettle and straight up microwaved a mug of water.

But thankfully or not they weren't alive to receive that information. But if they had been buried Shiro was sure they’d be rolling in their graves. He smiled a little at that thought, though the grief was still fresh in his gut.

While he sat on the counter reminiscing, the kettle began to whistle and Shiro switched off the stove, watching the steam rise when he poured the boiling water into a mug. A black cat print on a white base, the cat was shooting rainbow lasers out of his eyes. His grandmother had gifted it to him after he came out. He'd always thought it was funny.

A lump formed in his throat as he thought about the good times when his grandparents, his family, were alive. But he shook his head, he didn't have the time to be upset. He was a fully functioning member of society, or at least that's what he told himself to get through the day.

After a bowl of three day old miso soup, and a couple hours watching youtube videos to pass the little spare time he had before work Shiro straightened his wrinkled after nap outfit and slipped his shoes back on. His knee brace was starting to hurt, the leg hairs trapped beneath causing the skin to feel irritated and sore. So Shiro picked at the velcro and tore the thing off, rubbing a hand over his hurting leg, it felt like shit. He really shouldn’t of fallen asleep with it on, much less left it on afterwards. But he was sure it wouldn't be the last time.

Fortunately his headache seemed to have gone away, a break of luck in his shitty last few months. He would take whatever he could get. Besides, he probably had very little headache medicine left, and a trip to the store would only be a hassle for his very little freetime.

But after collecting his things and tucking his knee brace into his backpack, Shiro grabbed his keyring and headed out the door, just in time to catch his bus.

It was still cold and overcast when Shiro stepped out at the bus stop, the bus driving off behind him. The streets were alight with numerous glowing bulbs and small shops getting ready to close at nine. He was ten minutes early as usual, needing the time to clock in and ready himself for the eight hour shift ahead of him.

The clouds were still rolling and warping above, strange shapes forming then quickly dissipating. It was unusual, but once again he chose to ignore the strangeness, if he had to fight tonight he didn't have much choice in the matter. But it would probably be advisable to do it after he got his paycheck.

The Night Owl was warm and welcoming, something Shiro always enjoyed about the small shop. Dim lights hung from the ceiling, mismatched tables and chairs taking up the majority of the floor space. College students were typing away at their laptops greasy hair pulled back into ponytails and stuffed underneath beanies. The smell of coffee engulfed the room, warm and highly caffeinated.

Shiro quietly traded out with a coworker and stored his things away for the night. It was slow, not many people coming in or out. He tried looking busy, slowly washing the few empty cups and plates while his nightshift buddy wiped down a used table.

The ambient music coming from the few speakers in the shop, lulling him into a trance only interrupted by the occasional customer. It was around 2:00 am when something interesting finally happened.

He was making a hot black coffee when someone stepped up to the counter, it took a moment to realize that the person was there. He was short with a mop of tangled black hair and dark eyes the same black brown as Shiro’s own. Three pink scars etched into his cheek, they looked like claw marks, they must’ve hurt like hell. He was young, definitely not older than thirteen, Shiro wondered why a kid was allowed out alone so late, but he wasn't in any position to ask personal questions.

“So, what do you want, kid?” Shiro said not unkindly. A still nagging voice in his head concerned for the child.

“How much does water cost?”

“Twenty five cents,”

“Cool,” The kid dug a gloved hand into the inside pocket of his too big cropped leather jacket. He pulled two out quarters and put one back, it didn't make a clink. He carefully put the coin on the counter, and Shiro felt bad as he put it in the register. From context clues he could guess this was the kid’s only money and he didn't feel great taking it. But it was his job.

“Can I get a name for your order?”

“Uh,” he stumbled a bit. “Keith.”

Weird.

“Okay, thank you. It’ll be out for you soon.” Shiro returned to his coffee making while Keith walked away and took a chair in the corner, his back to the wall as he pulled a book out of the ratty backpack he'd placed on the floor next to him.

Shiro set the finished mug of coffee for his previous customer and called out, “Black coffee for Kayta.” Not waiting for the girl to collect her beverage before he walked into the back room to grab another clear water cup.

Shiro was, to say the least, concerned. A young kid, alone, in the cold city. He had to do something, right? Like, ask if he had a place to stay tonight, no you idiot, if that were the case he wouldn't be in a coffee shop at three in the morning.

Maybe Shiro could give him some money. What money? You can barely afford rent.

Shiro sat down on a crate in the back, the plastic cup in hand, thinking over his decision. His conscience wouldn't let him rest if he ignored this situation right in front of him. His eyes veered to the stock of teabags in a box. I could make him some warm tea, and maybe some food! My manager didn't bother to show up! I can sneak him something. Hell yeah, now that's an idea!

Shiro, now fully ignoring the fact that he could be fired if found out for stealing, began to dig around in the refrigerator for some tamales he could microwave. After choosing his selection of pork tamales and a bag of mandarin spice tea he scooted back to the kitchen to prepare it.

With plate in one hand and his other juggling a mug of tea and a plastic cup of water, Shiro maneuvered through the assorted tables and chairs. The low lighting was making it kind of difficult to avoid tripping on the random charging chords strewn on the floor, but he continued forward. Keith was curled up in his armchair, holding what seemed to be a copy of ‘Werewolves & Other Creatures of the Night.’ an interesting choice Shrio thought. But he was reading shitty vampire romances at around that age so he couldn't judge.

He made the last few steps and made a coughing noise to get Keith’s attention.

“I know you only ordered water, but honestly you seem kinda down on your luck and it's cold outside….” There was a very awkward pause as Keith looked up at him with dark quizzical eyes. “So uh, here. Tamales and some warm tea, also that water you ordered.” Shiro placed the food and drink on the table next to Keith’s chair and stepped back.

“Why?” Keith took hold of his water glass and held it between his hands.

“Cause’ it's fifty degrees outside and you're what eleven?” Shiro said.

“I’m twelve actually,” His face was blank. “Thank you though.”

Shiro smiled in relief. He was able to help the kid somehow at least. “No problem kid, take care.” Shiro nodded his head in acknowledgement and turned back to his job. Keith was in his seat peeling back the husks around his tamales fork at the ready.

The rest of Shiro’s night was uneventful, Keith was still in his chair when he left to catch his bus home. After a forty five minute power nap and another bowl of leftover soup Shiro put his knee brace back on and began to journey to the gym.

The strange clouds were still in the sky, and he once again chose to blame it on the sleep deprivation catching up to him.

He didn’t have time for life threatening emergencies.

That plan went to shit only three days later.

It was Sunday, the one day Shiro had off from work. He’d decided to walk to the nearby grocery store to buy the next week's groceries. It was still cold and cloudy, but the wind had picked up on his way home, and in the sky were flashes of light setting the dim streets alight momentarily.

His hands were cold in their thin gloves, the bags of food straining at his aching fingers. The wind was pushing against his back, almost throwing him to the sidewalk below multiple times. Strangely enough there was no one else on the road. Shiro was the only witness to the strange laughter emanating from the sky. He’d only heard that sound once in his life. On his eleventh birthday, when hot white fire struck him from the heavens.

He’d always thought it must've been the medicine, that's what his grandparents had always told him. But as the wind pushed him towards an alley, and the sky cackled at him, he understood he had lived this before. Something was in the storm, and he had met it before. And he would meet it again very soon.

Something in his breath caught as he tried to wrench away from the tide he’d been caught in, but he couldn't escape. His eyes darted all around, still no one walked the streets. No cars passed by. He was alone.

His body began to freeze, a deep chill climbing his limbs, sinking into his chest. It hurt like needles, like the countless days he spent in pain from an illness doctors didn't understand. And he couldn't scream in pain as he lost the ability to move. His bags of groceries fell to the ground as he was dragged into the secluded alley. A purple haze began to envelope him. The lightning still flickered in the sky, briefly lighting a hunched cloaked figure.

They had an outstretched hand as air beckoning to him, he had a good feeling they were the cause of all this.

“All alone, halfblood?” It was a woman's voice, hoarse and crackly. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you for some time now.”

What the fuck, ‘halfblood’ ‘watching me’?!

“You seem lonely,” The woman tilted her head, talking down to him as if he were a child. “I’m surprised you’re still alive. You must be very strong to make it this far.”

Shiro didn't feel strong.

“I could mold you into something much greater, a hero even. You won't have to feel so alone if you listen to me.” She waved her hands and his right arm regained its independence, “You just have to take my hand Takashi, I promise you will be great.” Beneath her hood Shiro could see her too white teeth, there was blood stuck to her gums, he felt sick.

Why on earth would I make such a deal, I know nothing about this lady, and she's not giving me any information. Besides, what care do I have for being a hero? I just want to survive.

Shiro didn’t move his fist to shake her’s, stubbornly keeping it still as if still frozen.

“Ah, not convinced? I thought you were smarter, young halfblood.”

That word again ‘halfblood’. What does it mean?

“Not to worry, I’ll help you regardless.” Her grin somehow grew wider. She stretched her arm out, just about to grasp his hand when an ear-splitting howl broke the silence.

The clouds parted, making way for the full moon to light the alleyway. In the corner of Shiro’s vision he saw a reddish doglike creature. It lunged towards the woman and the purple mist let go of him, tossing him to the pavement.

All of the sudden he remembered his dream from days ago. And Shiro groaned to himself. It always had to be him didn't it?

#can’t believe it #I got the first chapter done.#please take a chance on this au #it means the world to me #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #keith voltron #broganes #shirogane takashi #fanfic #vld x pjo au #I don’t think I need to tag this with any trigger warnings #but let me know if I need to

14 notes · View notes