Tumgik
#there are. two things left on my walls and ones a mirror i’ve had since i was 8 and we moved to this house. the other is a painted map
shatteredsnail · 2 years
Text
years of my parents vacuuming at 7am for seemingly no reason makes so much more sense now that i just vacuumed at 3am
7 notes · View notes
lovemly4 · 4 months
Text
HE GIVES ME BUTTERFLIES
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Word count: 2.3 k
Pairing: BestFriend!Felix x Reader
Warnings: Smut, best friends to lovers, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it please), blowjob, facesitting, semi public sex (??), praising, aftercare, explicit language, MINORS DNI 18+
“And… Done! Good job, you can rest now. We’re done for today” my choreographer says, turning off the music and handing me a bottle of water.
I chug eagerly, exhausted by the practice. Today has been particularly hard for me and I don’t exactly know the reason behind it, but now I find myself sat against the mirror, catching my breath as if it was the last.
“I’m leaving, are you coming with me?” my teacher asks me, waiting in the door frame
“No thanks, I think I’ll practice again a couple of times, then I’ll call it a night.” she nods, waiving her hand as her figure disappears behind the wall.
I wait until my heartbeat slows down, boringly scrolling through my Instagram feed, and I come across one of my friend’s latest posts.
And damn, he was devilishly handsome in that picture.
I’ve been friends with Felix for a long time: he was one of the first people to approach me when I got accepted into the dance school, and in one way or another our teachers noticed the alchemy between me and him.
Since then, they paired the two of us for many choreographies.
But that’s it.
No romantic feelings between me and Felix.
No love, no lust, no desire.
Just a really deep friendship.
But then why do I feel that burning feeling in my heart whenever he’s around? And why do I crave his presence when he’s not?
I force myself out of my thoughts, getting prepared to practice again.
I get in position in the middle of the room waiting for the song to start, still chewing on those memories with him.
The door suddenly opens, letting someone burst in and invade my bubble of thoughts.
“Hello love, missed me?” a joyful voice says, tossing his bag on the empty sofa in his trajectory.
Speak of the devil…
I turn to face him, an expression of fake-annoyance on my face while he walks in where i stand.
He picks me up and we twirl together, gently putting me down and pinching my cheek while he smiles at me.
“Wasn’t your teacher supposed to be here today? Has she lost hope with you? Poor thing. “He looks around panting, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“You clown. She was here five minutes ago, must have sensed you coming and decided to sneak out.” I flick his forehead, earning a laugh from him “but you can stay here if you want, I’m almost done”
He nods and makes his way to sit on the sofa.
Being a professional dancer, I usually don’t mind people watching me; but there’s something about his gaze that makes my skin burn like a hot sun, leaving me raw and exposed.
I start dancing for the hundredth time this day, even if I feel that my movements are not fluid and confident like they’re supposed to be.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, of course, and he walks towards me.
“What’s going on with you today?” he sweetly asks placing himself behind me. He grabs my waist with his right hand, and gently holds my arm up with his left.
Our eyes meet in the wall mirror in front of us: he’s warm, and I can feel his breath on the nape of my neck. I helplessly shiver at the feeling.
“You’re stiff. I’ll help you with this move, alright?” he moves our bodies together as one “just like that”.
His warm voice, his presence, his body against mine make my head spin, holding onto his arm as I turn around to face him.
“Already trembling like a leaf and I haven’t almost touched you.”
Shit.
My eyes widen in shock at his words, heart going crazy in my chest. He holds my head up by the chin, lips brushing over mines. His steady gaze burns on my skin, still sensitive from his body against mine.
“Who thought I could’ve had you in my arms like this all along?” his voice is deep, hot with lust and desire, and his breath is fanning against my lips.
He won; he knew it. And I let him.
His presence had always filled me, from day one. I was just too blind to see it.
“please” I beg him.
I don’t like the way my voice sounds, it’s whiny and shaky, and we both know he’s the only person who causes it to be like that.
“Please what, love?” his expression is serious, he’s eager to hear me beg again for him.
But I don’t have time to try and speak once more, the fire in my core is demanding.
I pull him down to meet his lips in a chaste kiss, soon to be replaced by tongues fighting and teeth shattering against each other’s.
He picks me up, blindly heading towards the sofa as the kiss gets too heated to just stop. I lose myself in his flavor, my hands find his hair at the base of his head, slightly pulling and feeling the soft strands between my fingers.
That’s when I know I won the jackpot, he pulls away and tightens the grasp on my butt cheeks.
He puts me down gently, sitting beside me as I climb onto his lap. His hands are on my waist, slightly gripping while I trace gentle wet kisses on his Adam’s apple.
His skin is hot, sweet, and it smells like him.
Confident hands rise my shirt, taking the fabric with him up my head to remove it.
“Lix, are you sure?” I look at him worried, suddenly realizing that we still are in a public place.
“They all went home, it’s just us in here” he smiles reassuringly, leaving a small peck on my lips.
I chuckle and tug at the black fabric of his oversized shirt, lazily resting on his upper body.
He lifts his arms to ease my work and I can’t help but stare at his toned body, my hands flattened against his waist.
Everything is harmonious in this man; he doesn’t even look real.
He knows he looks like an angel, and he makes sure to make you feel heaven.
My mouth traces a long line of kisses down his waist, hands following my movements as he throws his head back in pleasure, abs tensed and the tent in the middle of his joggers more and more prominent.
I palm his manhood through the fabric, feeling the outline of it and eager to feel him wherever I can take him.
I pull down both his pants and his boxers in one movement, freeing his half hard cock that now rests on his lower abdomen.
I take it in my hand, slowly pumping it and spreading the little drops of precum down his shaft; he’s hot in my hand, prettier than I imagined.
His breathing is heavy, trying his best not to let moans escape his mouth.
“Don’t hold back Lix, let me hear you.”
He smiles, hissing at my words, stroking my hair and tangling his fingers through it slightly pulling, guiding my mouth down his member while our eyes never leave each other’s.
“Fuck- you’re so good, just like that baby” his words are strained, breathy, almost forced to come out and threatened to be interrupted by his low moans.
I take him in my mouth: he’s deliciously heavy on my tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with the sweetness of his kisses.
He stops my movements, smiling reassuringly at my confused face.
“Don’t worry love, you did nothing wrong. But I could cum just by looking at you, and we don’t want that to happen so soon, do we?”
Cheeks blushing, I clean the spit in the corners of my mouth with the back of my hand, eyes following Felix’s movements as he gets comfortable laying down on the sofa, his head on the arm rest.
“Come on pretty girl, sit on my face” he states, patting his chest.
I stand there, unable to put together enough words to express my confusion.
“But- are you sure? What if I hurt you?” I stutter in disbelief.
I sit there shocked, unable to understand if my confusion is given by his request or by the excitement in anticipation.
But it doesn’t feel wrong, at all.
It’s intimate, and I know that I can trust him with my entire heart.
I climb on his chest, his soft and delicate hands helping me strip out of my shorts and panties.
He doesn’t waste time and quickly grips at my thighs: he’s not rough, but he makes me feel safe.
And incredibly horny.
And by the way our eyes talk I understand that he knows what he’s doing and what I’m thinking. He always knew.
We always knew, after all.
I align my bare core to his mouth, still unsure of how much weight to put on him.
But he’s impatient, he’s not worried at all, he grabs the flesh of my thighs and pulls me down in one quick motion.
He licks a long strip, flicking his tongue on my sensitive clit. His tongue is wet and warm against my cunt, feels molded to do that job, and his lips surround his work, stroking the labia from time to time.
God, who thought he could be so nasty?
He alternates between fucking my hole with his tongue and giving attention to the bundle of nerves, and I can’t help but moan his name like a mantra.
I soon feel the familiar knot forming in my lower abdomen, hot and delightful.
“Ah-Lix, please don’t stop” but he didn’t even think about it, not when he has me shaky and whiny under his hands.
I start grinding and fucking myself on his face, his nose hitting my sweet spot with each thrust, chasing my orgasm; his fingers dig in the meat of my legs, as he brings up a hand to massage my breasts. He flicks the rosy bud between two fingers, playing with it, soon starting to make me lose control.
I feel my blood boiling, heat in my whole body while his mouth and fingers work the magic.
“Fe-Felix, ngh- gonna cum” I beg while grinding his face and tugging at his hair. My orgasm is soon to come, crashing down on me and making me see stars, leaving me shaky while he works his way through it.
I move away from his face, freeing him of my grip on his head.
My juices are on his mouth and chin, glistening with the dim light of the room. He’s such a view.
“I could’ve bet you tasted divine” he states licking his lips while I catch my breath, fucked out expression on my face.
“Look at you, already so drunk and I didn’t even start” he whispers, moving a strand of hair out of my face kissing me tenderly, as if he waited years to savor this moment and finally fate was on his side.
But we did, though. Idiots in love, just too stupid to see it.
He moves us putting me on his lap, letting me do the rest.
“Let me, I can do this” I swear reassuringly, his dark half hooded eyes staring at me.
I lower his joggers where they were moments before, his still hard veiny cock slapping against his tummy.
I gently stroke it, spitting in my hand and spreading it evenly, while he grows impatient and low groans make their way out of his throat “Don’t tease, please” he begs.
I smirk, aligning it with my entrance, the wetness of my previous orgasm enough to make it slide in easily.
We exhale once it’s fully in, like we’ve both been holding our breath, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes and his mouth hanging open.
He places his hand on my hips, helping me set the pace as the other one finds my breast. Felix has a weakness for tits, noted.
I grind myself on his dick; I can feel his silky skin under my hands, flattened against his abdomen. The tip is hitting the right spot inside me, my clit brushing against his pubic bone feels delightful.
“Fuck- darling you’re perfect, such a good girl for me” he whimpers, noticing my thrusts getting weaker.
He hugs my waist to lift me up, my breast in front of his face in the motion while he starts relentlessly thrusting up, loud skin slapping noises and our moans filling the room, making the filthiest melody we’ve both ever heard.
He brings his thumb to my mouth, wetting it enough to stroke my clit, gently flicking it and making me drip even more.
I feel my orgasm approaching once more, the sight of Felix’s fucked out expression adding to the tingles bubbling in my tummy.
“I’m- close” I manage to say between breaths “I know baby, hold on a little longer” he moans out against the flesh of my shoulder slightly biting on it, the sting of the action just adding to the pleasure.
“Felix, I can’t, please” I cry out against his neck, too fucked out to form a coherent sentence
“Cum baby, go on” his hips stutter against mines “gonna cum inside you, alright love?” he asks, but i don’t even have the time to say anything before our highs crash down the both of us, leaving us a hot mess.
I pant against his chest, heat fading and leaving space to the cold air in the room. He strokes my hair, leaving gentle and sweet kisses on my forehead.
I look up into his eyes: they’re glossy, and a strange glow enhances the color of his iris. Keeping a steady hand on my waist, he uses the other one to open his bag and pull out a clean shirt.
He cleans the both of us, paying extra attention to where our bodies where still connected. He looks for my clothes, helping me getting dressed and handing me his bottle of water.
We lay there, my eyes getting heavy as he talks quietly in the emptiness of the building.
A loud noise startles me, immediately searching for Felix’s eyes.
“Oh… yeah. I might have forgotten about the cleaning women” he states, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.
I cover my face with my hands exhaling exasperated
“I can’t fucking believe it”.
a/n: Hello! First smutty one shot here, so it might be highly improvable. Let me know!!
304 notes · View notes
beskarandblasters · 6 months
Text
Release Your Inhibitions
Inexperienced!Din Djarin x F!Reader
Tumblr media
Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist
Author’s note: Inspired by this beautiful piece of art by @immarocketman!! If you want to, you could imagine this is in the same universe as Uncut, Grasp & Tug, Oral Fixation, and Bare It All! But reading them is not required to read this! :)
Summary: Shortly after revealing his face to you, Din’s worried about the faces he makes during sex, since he’s never had to worried about that before. You suggest something that might ease his worries; a blindfold.
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, established relationship, Din is insecure and inexperienced, helmet comes off, blindfolding, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, light biting, creampie, super romantic and loving sex, use of Mando’a words/phrases (Cyar’ika = sweetheart, Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum = I love you, Yooba solus mesh'la = You are beautiful), no use of y/n
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Would it be alright if I left my helmet on this time?” Din says softly.
You’re at a hotel on Coruscant, a place that was a bit out of Din’s price range. But the bed is nice and big, a luxury you don’t get when you’re in the confines of the Razor Crest. You made the first move, palming the growing bulge in his flight suit. A groan escaped his lips underneath the helmet. He’s missed you today, spending most of his time chasing after a particularly difficult bounty. But once you heard the knock on the hotel room door you knew what that meant; time with him between the sheets.
He’s got you on your back and legs spread apart. Half of your clothes are strewn about on the floor and he’s down to just his flight suit. But now you’re stopped dead in your tracks, wondering what in the galaxy would make Din ask that.
“Of course, it’s alright, Din. But… why?”
He doesn’t answer right away, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. He rests his helmet in his gloved hands, slouched forward and sighing to himself. You move to sit beside him, running your hand up and down his back.
“You can tell me anything,” you remind him, feeling how his body reacts to your touch, even through all the layers.
“I’m just… insecure?” he says, unsure of his own feelings, unsure of where it’s coming from.
“Okay. Is that why you want to keep your helmet on?” you continue, dancing around this topic delicately. Taking off his helmet and showing you his face is a relatively new thing for the two of you. Not only it is a huge sign of the trust he has for you, but it’s also opening him to a world of insecurities. Under all of the beskar, he’s confident, never having to worry about what he actually looks like. But when he showed you his face many rotations ago, a nagging voice became a fixture in the back of his mind, telling him “She hates the way you look. This was a mistake. And you’re stupid for ever thinking this would go well,” despite all the love and words of affirmation you gave him. It breaks your heart knowing he feels that way about himself.
“Last night when were, uh, doing it, I caught a glimpse of what I look like, in the mirror.”
“I see,” you say, glancing at the mirror hung on the wall beside the bed.
“And I just think the faces I make are… stupid? I don’t know. It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly, Din. Everyone worries about that kind of stuff.”
“I’ve never had to before.”
You rack your brain for ways to help him out of this. He deserves to have sex without his helmet off. He deserves to be completely encapsulated in your scent or to feel your lips against his. And selfishly, you want him to keep it off, of course. There has to be some sort of solution, a temporary fix.
And then it dawns on you; a blindfold.
“I have an idea,” you say, moving off the bed and walking to a chair in the corner of the room, where Din’s medic kit is sitting. You rifle through the medic kit and pull out a white piece of fabric, one Din would use for dressing a wound.
You return to the side of the bed where he’s sitting, lifting the helmet slowly off his head and setting it on the nightstand.
“What about a blindfold?” you say, holding the fabric in front of his face.
“A blindfold? Why?”
“Half of your face will be covered,” you shrug, “And you won’t have to look at yourself in the mirror.”
“Oh, okay,” he says.
You take off the remaining layers of your clothes while he slips out of his flight suit, cock springing free from the fabric. He sits back down on the bed and you wrap the blindfold around his face, tying it at the back of his head.
“But now I don’t get to see you,” he says, almost complaining.
“Yes but…” you start, bringing your head beside his ear, “Your other senses are heightened,” you whisper, sending a shiver down his spine.
“Kriff,” he curses under his breath.
You sink to the floor, running your lips along his groin, and feeling the goosebumps on his skin beneath your fingertips. He shudders as you get closer and closer to his cock, only to pull away once he’s holding his breath and expecting you to take him in your mouth.
“Cyar’ika, please. Don’t tease me,” he whines, aching for your mouth around his cock already.
“Fine. Fine. I won’t,” you giggle, kissing his groin and moving closer to his cock again. You wrap your hand around the base and slip your tongue between his head and his foreskin, still teasing him a little. He groans some more, his hands finding each side of your face and caressing it lightly. And just when he’s about to beg again, you take him in your mouth as far as he can go, stroking the part you can’t fit. His hands move to the back of your head as you suck him off, head bobbing up and down and your tongue flat against the underside of his cock.
“Kriff, cyar’ika,” he curses again, “You take care of me so well.”
You hum in response, sending a vibration down his shaft. He shudders again, head thrown back in pleasure while your other hand inches closer to his balls. And once you cup them he’s about to lose it, shaky breaths working up to full-blown panting.
“Cyar’ika, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he pants, voice dripping with arousal and pleasure.
You hum in response again, as if you’re telling him that you want this, that you want to make him cum. Your tongue returns to the head of his cock, swirling around the tip and in between his foreskin, while your hand continues to stroke his length. You feel his balls tense up in your hand and almost immediately after, he’s coming down your throat, moaning out a string of curse words in Mando’a you don’t quite catch. You swallow his release, stroking him through his orgasm before taking him out of your mouth and rising from the floor.
“You’re amazing,” he says, voice still breathless and coming down from his high.
“I’m not quite done with you,” you chuckle, pushing his shoulders lightly so he’s lying down on the bed. His cock is still hard and glistening from just being in your mouth.
“You’re not?”
“Nope,” you giggle, moving to straddle him. You sink down onto his cock, feeling him stretch out your walls as you take all of him. But instead of staying upright with your hands flat against his chest, you lean forward, placing your head beside his ear again while grinding against him.
“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” you whisper. Although you couldn’t understand the curse words he used earlier, you made sure to learn how to say I love you and a few other things with the help of your data-pad.
All he can do is moan in response as your cunt envelopes his cock and your hips grind against him. So you take his earlobe in between your teeth and tug on it lightly before whispering again.
“Yooba solus mesh'la,” you tell him, wanting him to feel all the love and admiration you hold for him, wanting him to know that he’s desired.
He whispers back that he loves you, too, his voice jumping an octave as you cum around his cock. You take his earlobe in between your teeth again while you ride out your high, feeling the pleasure originate from your core and spread outwards. Your orgasm triggers his own and soon enough he’s coming inside you, cock pressed up against your cervix. The movement of your hips eventually slows to a halt and you’re left there just resting against him with his cock still inside you.
You poke your head up and untie the blindfold around his head, looking deep into his eyes with a smile on your face.
“Did you like that? The blindfold?” you ask.
“I did… Maybe we can do that more often?” he asks, his words delicate like he’s afraid of your response.
“Of course,” you say, leaning down and pressing a kiss against his lips.
He kisses you back, needy and passionate, but only because he knows that out of all the people in the galaxy, you’re the only one who will ever see him like this.
“Thanks for being patient with me,” he says softly.
“Anything for you,” you whisper back.
Tumblr media
Banners/dividers by @saradika-graphics
Gif credit unknown, please let me know if this is your gif or someone you know!
239 notes · View notes
heartateasee · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
"Chapter Two"
Word Count: 5.6k
(Chapter two to “Cherry Bomb” - please make sure to read the TW on the “Cherry Bomb” masterlist before proceeding.)
●・○・●・○・●
Tumblr media
Today marks a month since my hometown show, which also means I’ve been back in LA officially for the same amount of time. I hadn’t really been out much since being here considering there was still a lot of rearranging to do with my house. For starters, it took a few weeks to get my home recording studio completely set up the way I needed it. I had also painted a lot of the walls, and worked on getting my patio to look like an oasis. 
My home was finally feeling like just that…home.
It’s been a while since I’ve had that feeling considering I was bouncing from place to place while touring - sleeping each night either in the van as we drove to another location, or a hotel if we had the time.
Having a place to call my own now is so refreshing. It finally feels like I’m settling down somewhere for the first time since I left home to pursue music. I’ve managed to make it completely me, and I’m proud of myself for that.
Another reason why I think I threw myself into renovating my house so much was due to the fact that I had seen Harry again. After five years, I saw someone who I had tried my hardest to forget.
But the sad thing was, it still wasn’t him.
I’ve made peace with the fact that my Harry is truly gone, and to be honest, I think it’s helped me push forward a bit when it comes to that healing. People really are telling the truth when they say sometimes you never properly heal - the pain just dulls. I think that’s how it will always be when it comes to the loss of Harry.
There’s nothing like speaking about someone as if they were dead when they’re still very much alive.
Regardless of me not really taking the time to see how things had changed in LA, I made myself a promise that today I’d be remedying that. I want to try to go and look for a few additional art pieces for both my living room and bathroom, and I also want to see if the old record store I used to shop at was still open.
That record store holds a lot of memories for me, and I hope to see that it’s still the same.
Looking at myself in the full length mirror in my room, I tug on a pair of black flared corduroys - pairing them with my trusty black platform Dr. Martens. I pull on a black tank top and tuck it into the waistband of my trousers before pulling on a black mesh top over that. I give myself a small nod as I fluff up my hair that I had already done, and I give my makeup one more glance as I head out of my bedroom.
With my small black purse over my shoulder, and my keys in my hand, I make my way outside and into my car. I start towards town, and I make the decision to go looking for some vinyls first since that’s what I’m most excited about.
As I drive, I take in the scenery around me, and I can see that there’s obviously been a lot of build up in the area since I was last living here. More apartment buildings, houses and shopping centers. It was the same, but it wasn’t - much like myself now that I’ve returned.
I feel a smile tug onto my lips as I see the sign for the record store, and I can’t help but let out a small laugh when I realize that’s thankfully one of the things that hasn’t changed at all. Pulling into the parking lot, I park and get out while feeling the giddiness in my stomach that at least something has remained the same.
The same old bell chimes as I step in the front door, and I look over to see there’s no one behind the counter currently. I can’t help but stop in my tracks as I look at it - covered with various bands stickers and doodles, it brings me right back to when I would come in here almost every day the summer after highschool.
“There she is!” Harry's voice bellows as I walk into the record store with a bag of Taco Bell in my hand - a drink carrier in the other. “And she brings me food?”
He dramatically looks up at the sky with his hands pressed together as if he were praying. “I don’t know what I did for whoever is up there to give me Marlowe Finch as my best friend, but I could kiss your ass right now for doing so.”
I can’t help but giggle at his words as I shake my head, and I make my way over to the counter. After making sure the bag and drinks are secure on the surface, I also push myself up onto it before dishing out the food.
“I got you the Mexican pizza combo with a Baja Blast,” I tell him as I pull out the box as well as setting his drink down by him. I make sure I also give him the taco that comes with it. “Oh, and I got you chips and cheese!”
I can feel Harry watching my every move as I set our food up for the two of us, and I look over to him once I finish - feeling my cheeks flush a bit. “What?”
Harry shakes his head as his bunny teeth clamp down on his bottom lip. “Nothing, just so lucky to have you - that’s all.”
“And I’m lucky to have you,” I don’t hesitate to say it back as I lift a hand up to fix the backwards hat he currently has on. He was growing his hair out, but was insistent on wearing hats. He looks like a true frat boy, which is a thing I always give him shit over. “Going to a party or something after your shift? You’re a little more dressed up than usual.”
“Yeah, one of the guys who’s in a local band invited me. He comes in here a lot to put up flyers for their gigs, and he said they’re having a pretty big house party,” Harry shrugs as he pulls the wrapper off his taco, slathering it with sauce before taking a massive bite.
I make a face as I watch him eat, and he reaches out to pinch my hip - eliciting a squeal from me.
“You don’t have to eat it like a starved animal, you know? It’s not going anywhere,” I tease with a wink as I bite into a piece of my chicken quesadilla. “But a house party sounds fun. Do you need me to pick you up later once you’re ready to leave it?”
“You know I’m not going to be drinking,” Harry says, pausing to take a sip of his Baja Blast. “I can just call an Uber or I can walk.”
“Harry,” I tilt my head to the side. “You know I don’t mind giving you rides, right? It lets me spend more time with you.”
I notice that Harry pauses on eating for a moment as he looks down at his feet before he speaks. “I don’t know. I just feel like a burden sometimes since I don’t have my own car.”
“Hey,” I place my food to the side for a moment, and I take his food from him to do the same before I place his hands in mine - giving them a squeeze. “You will never be a burden to me. Never. Do you understand?”
Harry purses his lips to the side, and I raise my eyebrows as if to enunciate my statement again. His shoulders deflate before he gives me a soft nod which causes me to smile.
“Good, glad we cleared that up,” I tell him as I start in on my food again. “Are they going to come and pick you up from here?”
He doesn’t answer me right away as he leans against the counter, pondering as he chews the bite he just took from his taco. “Why don’t you just come with me?”
“I don’t know, H,” I squirm slightly at the thought of being around people I’m not familiar. “It’s not like these people even have any idea who I am. They’ll probably think it’s weird if I just turn up with you.”
“Well, if they said something about it, then we’d leave,” Harry’s eyebrows narrow as he holds my eyes. “I wouldn’t want to be around those types of people anyway.”
I glance over at the clock to see he has about two hours left of his shift. “How about I think about it? I’ll just hang out until you’re done - that way I can take you anyway, yeah?”
Harry sends me that boyish grin of his that here recently has sent my heart fluttering, and he reaches over to dip one of his chips into the cheese before he’s extending it out to me. I roll my eyes playfully at him as I lean forward - capturing the chip between my teeth before letting it fall back onto my tongue.
“I think that sounds like a plan,” he tells me.
The sound of someone entering behind me causes me to come back to reality, and I immediately leave the main area of the store to head into one of the side rooms. I wasn’t even sure if the organization in here was the same as it used to be, but I just had to get away from that counter for a moment.
I spent so many days just sitting on top of that while I would watch Harry work, and half the time I’d be helping him get his stuff done so we could get out faster. All we cared about back then was playing music in my garage, so we always tried to get him out of the store as quickly as possible once his shift was through.
As I approach the section of shelves that was strictly for 80’s records, I decide that’s as good of a place to start as any. I begin to flip through the records while nibbling on the inside of my cheek as I do so.
I pull a few out that I know I’d be more than happy to have before continuing my way through the room. My attention gets caught for a moment by a blonde girl exiting out of the employee only room, and I can tell she’s heading back up towards the front while adjusting her clothes.
It’s only a few seconds later that I catch another body exiting the same room, but I keep my back slightly turned to them as I continue to sort through the vinyls.
Just as I’m about to grab a Talking Heads album, my attention is stolen once more by the sound of a high-pitched giggle, followed by a single name.
“Harry!”
I can’t help but flash my eyes over to the counter since I’ve made my way back towards that area, and I see Harry’s body wrapped around the girl I had seen just a few seconds ago.
“Stop it - you’ve already had me away from the customers for the last fifteen minutes,” the girl continues to laugh, acting as if she were trying to push him off of her, but it’s obvious she’s loving the contact from him.
Knowing I need to get out of here, I go to set the records down that I had in my hand, but I’m caught off guard by a gasp, and I can see the girl looking past Harry’s shoulder at me.
“Holy shit!” Harry is quick to look over his shoulder to see what she’s on about, and I watch his expression harden once he sets his sights on me. “You’re Marlowe Finch!”
The girl unravels herself from Harry, and she walks over to me with a large smile. I clear my throat when I realize I’m going to have to interact with her. Clearly she’s a fan, and I don’t want to come across as rude. My issue is with Harry - not her.
“Uh, hi, that’s me,” I nod, forcing a smile of my own.
“I was so bummed that I missed your show a few weeks ago, but this one was sick,” she gestures her thumb over her shoulder to Harry before crossing her arms over her chest. “So I stayed home too so I could be on standby, in case he needed me.”
I soon realize that he obviously lied to this girl about where he was that night considering he was very much at my gig, and not at home sick. He sends me a look, one that I quickly interpret as a warning, but all that does is cause me to get a bit angry.
“Funny seeing you here, Harry,” I say, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do you still work here too?”
The girl looks between the two of us for a moment - confusion etched on her face. “Wait, you guys know each other?”
Harry walks to stand behind the blonde after hearing that question, and I stifle a laugh at the fact that he hasn’t even talked about me once to her.
“Harry and I used to be best friends up until a few years ago.”
“What the hell?” She lifts her hand to hit the back of it lightly against Harry’s chest. “How come you’ve never told me this?”
I can’t lie and say that it doesn’t hurt to know that he really does just forget that I ever existed in his life. I’m actually a bit envious of him at the same time though. I wish I had the capability just to block out years of memories that I no longer wanted.
Harry remains silent, but the girl doesn’t wait for him to respond before she speaks again. “Well, I’m Rylan,” she says, extending her hand to me which I shake. “Are you staying in town for long?”
“Just moved back actually,” I nod. “I plan on being here for some time since I just finished up my tour, and I’m starting to work on my new album.”
“Oh, that’s so exciting! We should totally hang out sometime since you’re going to be sticking around.”
I can see the annoyance written all over Harry’s face as Rylan continues to ramble, and I send him a slight smirk. The one thing he wants to avoid, he simply can’t - all due to the fact his girlfriend is currently making over me.
“Well, if Harry still has my number, it’s the same, so…” I trail off with a shrug, and Rylan claps her hand. 
“I can’t believe I’m going to be hanging out with you. I feel like I'm in a dream right now,” she shakes her head before seeing the records I didn’t get a chance to put down. “If you’re all set, I can ring those up for you.”
“Sure.”
Rylan takes the vinyls from me, and she turns her back towards both Harry and I to walk towards the counter. As I walk past Harry, we allow our eyes to run over each other before I’m looking back ahead to properly check-out. I can still feel his sight on me as I hand my card over to Rylan who’s bagging up my records. She extends the bag to me over the surface - a large smile on her face.
“It was nice to meet you, Marlowe. Hopefully we can all hang out soon. I’m sure you and Harry have a lot to catch up on.”
For some reason, that simple phrase causes a knot to grow in my throat, and I force a smile. “Yeah, I bet. See you around.”
Turning towards the door, I keep my head down as I walk past Harry, and once I’m outside, I let out a breath that I didn’t even know I had been holding in. I quickly get in my car, and I’m thankful that I had parked facing away from the windows of the building as I place my records in the passenger seat. I stare blankly at my steering wheel as I take a minute to gather myself.
This was a mistake. I should’ve never moved back here.
I should’ve just planted roots somewhere else given my parents had moved, but I just felt so drawn to come back here. This was the place that gave me inspiration to start music in the first place, and I figured it would be good to write my first album here. It seems that now I was terribly mistaken. The thought of having to worry about seeing Harry everywhere I go will eventually take its toll on me. All of my years of therapy will be washed down the drain.
After taking a few more moments to collect myself, I start my car, and I head off in the direction of the art gallery I had looked up earlier today to try to get my mind off this whole encounter.
●・○・●・○・●
It had been a few days since running into Harry at the record store, and mentally, I was doing better with it than I thought I was going to. I expected my mind to race once I laid down in bed that night, but that didn’t happen. Thankfully, I distracted myself with hanging up the new art I got while playing a couple new records, and I think that helped get my mind off of it.
Kailey had texted me earlier today and asked if I wanted to go out for a few drinks later, and I agreed. I had seen her a couple times since I got back, mostly because she came over and helped me with a lot of the painting I did in my house, but this was going to be the first time that we were actually going out.
It’s exciting to me, to be honest. Yes, I’ve been traveling and going out here and there for the past few years, but I haven’t really gone out with a friend in so long - not since I left.
I went for a rather simple look tonight - just a pair of ripped black skinny jeans, a cropped white tee and my leather jacket. Of course, my platform boots were on my feet.
Since it was a little up in the air how much we would end up drinking tonight, I decided to order myself an uber, and I made sure I had my cards, keys and phone before heading out the door. I only had to wait a couple minutes for my Uber to arrive, and as I got into the back seat, Kailey sent me a text to tell me she was on the way as well.
I’m hoping that by going out tonight that it gives me a better outlook on deciding to move back to LA. After the encounter with Harry, it did have me questioning everything, even though I didn’t spiral as bad as I thought that I would. I’ve managed to keep up a pretty good relationship with Kailey, despite being gone, so I’m more than hopeful that we’ll fall back into our old ways.
I know that I have my band, and Lys, but it’ll be nice to feel like I have close friends again.
I pull up to the agreed location just a few minutes after getting in the car since it’s not too far from my house, and I step inside. I’m looking around for Kailey, but I don’t see her yet, so I decide to make my way to the bar to go ahead and order a drink. 
As I’m waiting behind a few people, I see the door open again out of the corner of my eye, and I see Kailey.
“Kailey!” I call over to the noise of the music, and I watch her eyes wander around for a moment before they settle on me.
She smiles wide, and waves her hand high in the air before she starts to make her way over to me. Once she reaches me, we wrap our arms around each other in a big hug, and I let out a small sigh at how nice it feels to have contact with someone like this. It wasn’t too common for me these days.
“How are you?” I ask as we move up a bit towards the bar, both of us with our arms now crossed over our chests.
“I’m good, just got off of work, and I came straight here. How about you? Did you finally get everything settled at the house?”
I nod, feeling a sense of pride that I have gotten myself all situated. “I did, actually. I picked up a few more art pieces earlier this week to fill some empty space on the walls that I had, but I think everything is officially in place. You’ll have to come over for dinner and a movie night sometime.”
“Oh, I’d love that!” Kailey exclaims with a toothy grin. “It’ll be just like old times.”
Eventually it’s our turn, and I order myself just a Coors Light to start. Kailey orders herself a beer as well, and then we head towards a high-top table tucked into the corner - having it be a little more secluded in the busy little bar.
“I know you’ve been super busy with the house, but have you had a chance to get out a little bit? There’s a lot that’s the same, but a lot that’s different,” Kailey says as she takes a sip of her drink.
“The day I picked up the art pieces was actually the first day I was able to do that,” I wrap both of my hands around my cool glass - tapping my fingertips against it lightly. “Went to the art gallery, but I went to the old record store before that.”
Kailey pauses her attempt at another sip at my words, and she lowers her glass back down onto the table. “You did, did you?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, shaking my head. “Saw Harry.”
Kailey’s eyes widen at my words. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Yeah, and well…that wasn’t the first time I saw him. I forgot to tell you, but I also saw him at my show.”
She stares at me for a moment with a slack jaw before she shakes her head. “Okay, wow,” she clears her throat, actually taking a large sip of her beer afterwards. “And how were both of those run-ins?”
I purse my lips to the side as I try to decide how to answer her. “Pretty unfortunate, to say the least,” I laugh sadly. “He caught me after my gig, and he pretty much just said he wanted to confirm it was me, but that he still wants to act like I don’t exist. The other day when I saw him at the record store, he was all over some girl. Rylan was her name, I think?”
“Yeah, Rylan,” Kailey rolls her eyes. “She’s something.”
“You know her?” I ask, eyebrows narrowing as I take another sip of beer.
“She hangs around with Mikey’s group of friends, and I’ve run into her a couple of times at his parties. Her and Harry have been together for a little bit from what I’ve heard,” she shrugs. “She’s younger though - 22, I think? Fucking loves to party it seems.”
“I thought you hadn’t really seen Harry.”
“Over the past few months he’s been turning up more with her, but before that I only saw him those couple times I told you about. Did he talk to you the other day at the store?”
I shake my head. “Didn’t utter a fucking word. Rylan was fangirling over me, and he just stood there…glaring. I’m sure it had to eat him up that his girlfriend was losing her mind. She wants to hang out with me too.”
Kailey throws her head back with a laugh. “I’m sorry, Marlowe, but oh my god. The poor girl is actually clueless, isn’t she?”
“It seems so. He lied to her about being at my gig. Apparently she wanted to go, and he told her that he was sick, so she stayed home in case he needed her.”
“Wow,” Kailey lifts her glass and extends it towards me. “I think we can cheers to a big ol’ ‘fuck Harry’, am I right?”
I can’t help but chuckle as I lift my glass - clinking it against hers. “You’re right.”
She hums as flails her hand in the air, as if she’s brushing the subject matter of our current conversation away. “But enough about that asshole. How’s the album coming along?”
“To be honest with you? It isn’t,” I run a hand through my hair. “I haven’t really had any inspiration hit me lately, and I know I have a meeting coming up with my label soon. I’m a bit stressed. They’re going to expect an anticipated release date, and I’m not going to be able to give that to them.”
“Well your manager, Lys, right?” I nod as she continues. “I’m sure she’s going to rally for you. She’ll make sure you get all the time you need in order to create what you want, and to put something out that you’re proud of. Don’t let them pressure you into a deadline.”
“Yeah, it’s just…it’s not a good look that this is my first album, and I can’t even get my head on straight to properly get to work on it. I’ve just been so busy with the move, but now that I have my studio set up, I’m hoping it’ll be easier to get some material together.”
“You’ve got this,” Kailey nods. “Your song writing has always been stellar, and you can come up with melodies at the drop of a hat. It’s going to all work out.”
She reaches across the table to wrap her hand around my wrist - giving it a squeeze of reassurance as we share a smile between the two of us.
Our conversation continues on, and eventually we order ourselves another round of beers. At one point, my phone lights up on the table, and I look down to see Harry’s name. My eyebrows narrow, and I swallow harshly as I stare at it. I was in need of a cigarette anyway, so I figure that answering it won’t be too much of an issue.
I can’t tell you why I’ve kept his number saved all these years. It was something I always wanted to bring up in therapy, but I never did. I guess there was a part of me that still wanted to know I could contact him in some way, if I needed to. I had also convinced myself that he probably had a new number, and the contact in my phone was just a placeholder of what used to be.
“I’m going to step out and take this call and have a smoke. I’ll be right back,” I tell Kailey as I stand up, and she gives me a thumbs up while taking a large sip from her glass.
Heading outside, I answer the phone, and I hold it between my ear and my shoulder as I pull a cigarette from my pack - placing it between my lips as I struggle to get my lighter out as well. “Hello?”
I can hear music coming through the speaker, but I don’t hear anyone speaking as I light up my cigarette. Giving it a few minutes, I roll my eyes as I lean against the building, taking a long drag before pulling the stick from my mouth.
“Harry, if you’re talking I can’t hear you.”
It’s silent again for a few seconds, and as I’m going to place my cigarette back between my lips, he speaks. “You just had to come back, didn’t you?”
I pause, the filter almost to my mouth as my face contorts. “What?”
“You heard me, Marlowe,” his words are slurring, and I close my eyes when I realize he’s extremely drunk. “You just had to fucking come back here.”
I’ve never been around Harry drunk, therefore I’ve never known what he could sound like, but right now he sounds even less like my Harry than ever before.
“Well, it is my hometown,” I scoff before taking another drag.
“Did you come back here just to torture me for leaving your stupid little band?”
I blow out smoke towards the sky before I answer him. “It wasn’t just my band, Harry, it was ours. But no, I wanted to spend some time at home. I haven’t really been able to within the past three years.”
“Why?” Harry chuckles darkly into the phone. “You don’t have anyone here anyway. Your parents have moved - no siblings.”
I bite down on my bottom lip as Harry brings up my relationship with my parents. He knows they love me, but he also knows we’re not very close. They’ve been to a few of my shows here and there, and they’ve made it clear they’re proud of me. That’s all I can really ask for.
“Thanks for that,” I try to keep my cool - playing up my sarcasm to cope with his comment. “I had completely forgotten my family dynamic.”
“I’m just saying, there’s not a single person who truly wants you here.”
“That’s funny,” I mumble around the filter of my cigarette. “Because I’m actually out for drinks with Kailey as we speak.”
It’s silent again, but I continue to hear the muffled music in the background, so I know he’s still there.
“Okay, I’m hanging up now, Harry. This call is absolutely pointless.”
“Just one more thing before you go,” Harry’s voice holds a tone that I’ve never heard before.
I wait.
“I left the band because I couldn’t stand being around your stuck up attitude. You’re so fucking full of yourself, Marlowe. So fucking selfish,” he spits, and my lips part at the harsh words he casts my way. “You going solo like you did just proves you were going to use us, and then leave us out to dry once you made it. I couldn’t stand being in the same room with you anymore because of how you were acting - how you’re probably still acting.”
I can’t even find the words to respond to what he’s just said to me. Never in my life has he spoken to me in such a way, or said such hurtful things - things that he has to know aren’t true. As much as I want to prove that to him, I know in the end it’s pointless. 
This Harry doesn’t want explanations or reasoning. This Harry is already set in his ways and his thinking. Arguing with him would be like arguing with a brick wall.
“You’re talking out of your ass right now, and you’re clearly drunk,” I toss my cigarette to the ground, snuffing it out with the toe of my boot. “I’m actually going to hang up now. Don’t call me again. Goodbye, Harry.”
My hands shake as I hang up my phone - slipping it into the back pocket of my jeans. I suck in a deep breath as I drop my head back to rest against the brick behind me. 
As much as that call should upset me even more, I think it’s not because I’ve actually come to the realization now, more than ever, that Harry is not the same person. He will never be again. I’ve already mourned who he used to be. I’ve already worked through that trauma to a point where I feel comfortable dealing with the little bit that still remains.
That man on the phone was not someone who used to be my best friend. He’s a complete stranger.
I let out a deep breath before making my way back into the bar, and Kailey sends me a smile. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, that was Harry.”
“Come again?” 
“I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just get some shots?” I laugh, and she nods as she pushes herself up from the table.
“Oh, I’m about to get you two back to back,” she says, guiding me to sit back down. “I’ll be just a minute.”
My eyes follow Kailey as she pushes through people to make her way back to the bar, and I fiddle with my fingers on top of the surface in front of me. 
I have to come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably be seeing a lot of Harry now, especially if what Kailey said is true about Rylan hanging out with people who Mikey knows. Maybe it’ll end up being a good thing - it’ll be the true closure I need to just lay it all to rest. It was already seeming to be going in that direction anyway.
It’s only a few minutes later that Kailey is back with a small serving tray with two more beers and a total of four shots.
“We’re getting drunk,” she tells me as she sets everything down. “And we’re not going to talk about that dickhead anymore.”
We each grab a shot glass and raise it in the air. “Fuck Harry Styles,” I say, repeating her cheers from earlier, but adding his last name to it - to really feel it.
Kailey smirks as she nods. 
“Fuck Harry Styles.”
●・○・●・○・●
A/N: If you'd like to see what I picture Kailey and Rylan to look like as well, I've included their pictures below! Thank you so much for reading, and I'll see you all very soon for the next one.
Kailey
Tumblr media
Rylan
Tumblr media
●・○・●・○・●
Taglist: @daydreamingofmatilda @prettygurl-2009 @ghoststyles @lillefroe @gem1712 (if you’d like to be added to my taglist, please send me a DM!)
62 notes · View notes
boremore · 9 months
Note
saw you wanted steve request & i love your steve angst.
steve with obvious reader who is unaware of the upside down but is slowly starting to freak out and get a little upset at steve from keeping it form her.
he’s my liar ♱ steve harrington
Tumblr media
Hawkins, 1986
The phone call was worse than any kick to the gut. He hadn’t wanted to call you. It was late. You were sleeping and the last thing he wanted to do was bother you with his bullshit. But he was so damn scared. So damn terrified that he wouldn’t see tomorrow, so he called you. Shaking in his skin.
He needed to see you. Now. Selfishly.
You had rushed over without a problem, only living down the street. It was a short bike ride. One you hadn’t minded, even if you were livid with him and his disappearance act.
You had heard the news. Everyone had. Eddie Munson was missing. Chrissy Cunningham was still dead. Jason Carver was now missing. Max was in the hospital. So many others were dead. Half the town was in shambles.
And you didn’t know a thing of the truth.
You hadn’t seen Steve in two days. Every call went unanswered. Every visit to his vacant home left you leaving without seeing him. You’re not surprised by this, he does it all the time. Disappear. It’s happened like once every year since you’ve gotten with him. This year makes number three.
And when he does come back to you, there’s always a million apologies on his tongue and faded bruises on his skin. But tonight, everything is at its peak. Right in front of you. The red ring around his neck. The chunks of skin missing from his abdomen. Small littering cuts. You’re simply staring at him as he leans against the bathroom sink. There’s a towel low around his waist and his hair is wet and dripping. You can’t even be mad at him when he looks like this. You don’t fucking understand.
He hasn’t met your eye in a while.
“I’m sorry,” he suddenly whispers. It’s all too quiet in the bathroom. The steam from his shower is making you dizzy. You suck in a breath before you can cry. He’s looking for your eyes now. You wave a hand at him, staring at the white of his towel. “Can you just let me get the first aid kit, please?”
He winces at the way you sound. He moves, his back scrapes the wall as you bend down to shuffle around under his bathroom sink. Steve tries again, sick to his stomach. “Honey—” You can’t right now.
Your eyes screw shut as you grab onto the kit. “Steve. Please. Just go sit on your bed. I.. I need a minute.” He swallows, thick. He nods, even though you can’t see him. He pulls on his fingers till they ache as he walks the short distance to his room. He sits right on the edge of his bed, staring at the door. Waiting for you.
You stand after a second. Your eyes meet yourself in the mirror. Your face is caked with sleep. Your eyes are teary. You frown and shut the light off as you head for Steve’s room.
He perks up when you appear, it’s accompanied with a small wince. Your frown deepens as you take a seat next to him. “You.. You should lay back, so I can cover these easier.” He just nods. He lays back and you still won’t reach his eyes.
It’s quiet for a while. The only noise is your sniffles, crinkled plastic, and Steve’s occasional whispers. You don’t even have it in you to say soft sorry’s. You’re confused. Scared. Worried. Angry. And Steve’s here, breathing heavy as you look down at his ripped skin. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he whispers. His eyes are glued to his ceiling.
You stare at his moving abdomen. “Looks pretty bad, Steve. There’s.. Theres teeth marks? Your skin is literally missing here..” Your finger gently moves to point and you flinch in surprise when he takes your hand in his. Your eyes are forced to meet his. He looks guilty. You’re still frowning.
“I’m sorry I called you. I.. I know I’ve been a dick. I know I’ve been gone. But honey, I’m okay. I’m here. Things are fine.”
You stare. Your jaw clicks. You want to rip your hand from his hold, but you love his hold. You need his hold right now. The reassurance. “Things are not fine, Steve.” You seethe, eyes watery slits. “Fucking look at you!” He frowns at your tone and your words. He knows he shouldn’t have called you, but he needed to see your face.
Your other hand waved towards his day old wounds. “What.. What even are these? Where did you get them! There’s damn teeth marks, Steve! I don’t get it!” You can’t sit, you stand during your vomit of words. Your anxious and your hand is still in his. Never too far.
He lets go of your hand slowly and sits up himself. He frowns as he looks at you. Tired. Chest moving quick. You look terrified. He wonders if he looks around the same?
“Honey, I can’t.. I just can’t explain it. I don’t know how.”
You glare at him. “Steve, I can not keep doing this? You’re like a damn mystery! God, whatever you’re doing is painful! Look at your stomach! That’s insane! It’s making me sick!”
He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t tell you the truth. He won’t. You can’t die. He can’t have that. He has to keep you far from it all. He lets out a breath, “I am okay.”
You’re heavy breathing, hands balled up into fist down at your sides. You stare at the bandages that take up a lot of his skin. “I’m okay,” he whispers again as he stands. He towers over you as his hands coat your fist. He squeezes gently. He takes you softly into him. Your eyes screw shut, you’re scared to touch him. He kisses your hairline. You cannot do this.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers again.
You can say you won’t do this for a million times and it will never be true. If he calls, you’re here. Even if he is a liar.
171 notes · View notes
pinkeoni · 11 months
Text
Figuring Out Lonnie’s Whole Deal
(Or, assembling a timeline of pre-show events inspired by a culmination of theories centering around one Lonnie Byers)
After spending much time deliberating and theorizing, I’ve come to what I believe is a solid timeline of events relating to Lonnie Byers grounded in evidence from the show.
Now I don’t have all of the pieces, but also if I had all of the pieces then I wouldn’t need to be theorizing in the first place. Still, I’m fairly confident in my assessment. Maybe it would be wise of me to wait for The First Shadow to come out to give me more information, but for all intents and purposes of this I will only be looking at evidence within the text of the show. So no cast or crew comments, no supplemental materials, and as much as I love it, no speculation regarding TFS. Still, I think the show has enough evidence to support my assertion.
Things to establish:
A lot of what I’m about to talk about comes from a basis of these three things—
1. Will and El’s storylines mirror each other, which I charted out here. Their stories share a lot of differences, and a lot of similarities.
2. Powers are being used in this show to explore themes of sexuality through a sci-fi/supernatural lens. I talk about this in length here, but tl;dr El’s powers are used to explore the exploitation and reclamation of female sexuality, and Will’s powers are being used to show the demonization and repression of homosexuality.
3. Oh yeah, and Will has powers, by the way.
Surface Level Information We Are Given About Lonnie Byers:
It might be best to have a refresher of what we know about Lonnie Byers. Most of this comes from season one and all of it is displayed directly to the audience—
Lonnie is the absentee father of Jonathan and Will and ex-husband of Joyce
He left his family at an unspecified date that led Jonathan and Will to build Castle Byers the night of
He currently lives in Indianapolis
He used to call Will homophobic slurs
Joyce once argued with him about not showing up to a visitation with Will
Jonathan and Joyce do not speak of him fondly. Will’s feelings are unclear but seem positive “It’s fun to go with him sometimes”
Expressed interest in wanting to see Jonathan more
Referred to Joyce as “babe” despite being apart and having another girlfriend
Did not take Joyce’s calls to his house
Doubted Joyce, took down her Christmas lights and tried to repair the hole in the wall
Has unspecified debts
Likes to fix cars
Doesn’t like cops
Tried to use his “dead” son for lawsuit money
Was kicked out by Joyce and hasn’t been seen on screen since
Things to glean from just below the surface:
The following are things that are not stated directly, but can be easily inferred from clues given in show—
Lonnie is likely an alcoholic, shown through an abundance of beer bottles littering his house. Even if he splits it between him and his tiny girlfriend, it’s still an absurd amount of beer for two people. It’s possible he may have other addictions as well.
Lonnie was likely physically abusive towards Jonathan given his “You’ve gotten stronger” comment in the house. It’s possible that the extent of his abuse could stretch far beyond that for both Jon and Will.
Will likely used to hide from his dad. Jonathan and Will built Castle Byers the night he left, which Jonathan remarks that Will likes to hide in. Not to mention the “he’s good at hiding” comment.
Tumblr media
The rest of this post is going to be much more speculative, but it’s all speculation that is grounded in what we see on and just below the surface.
Theory #1) Lonnie was involved with MK-ULTRA
This was an idea that I tossed around a while ago, that after spending time with and finding new evidence I’ve now grown more confident in.
Most of this confidence comes from this conversation between Becky and Jopper. Becky tells Hop that him and Terry would have gotten along, as Terry didn’t like authority or the government— “The Man , with a big capital M.” (which is ironic given Hopper is a cop)
Tumblr media
When discussing who was involved with MK-ULTRA, Becky mentions “people like [Terry]”
Tumblr media
So people like Terry, who maybe don’t like authority as was just mentioned?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
It seems as though the Byers have always been down on their luck in terms of finance. Would it be hard to believe that, especially given the close proximity of the lab to the Byers house and Lonnie's willingness to get money in the show, Lonnie might have partaken in a paid study in the past? ("You were in it for the money!")
Above I mentioned the implication that Lonnie is an alcoholic. If he was involved with a study involving hard drugs, could he have developed addiction problems through the program? Furthermore, wouldn't it also make sense for Lonnie to gain a mistrust of authority after being taken advantage of by the government?
In my initial post about it I discuss how this could be foreshadowed through Hopper’s past as well. Hopper was involved with something government related that required chemicals, something that ended up affecting his child.
Tumblr media
Theory #2) Lonnie was working with the lab during season one
Another part of proving Lonnie’s MK-ULTRA involvement is his connection with the lab. Everything that I’m about to list could align perfectly with Lonnie simply just being a shitty ex and father, but everything that I’m about to list could also align perfectly with the idea that Lonnie was working with the lab against Joyce the entire season.
1) Lonnie’s fishiness with Joyce’s phone call
I’ve already made an entire post about this here but I’ll recap all of the important bits.
Right before we see Joyce call Lonnie in the first episode, we are shown the lab spying on her conversation explicitly. Joyce is then sent to voicemail, which given the ordering of scenes makes me wonder if the lab purposefully intercepted her call.
Joyce also never actually talks to Lonnie on the phone. Cynthia picks up until their call is disconnected, which could have been Cynthia but also could have been the lab interfering again.
When Jonathan confronts Lonnie about not returning Joyce’s call, he kind of shrugs off his answer.
Tumblr media
Why the hesitancy at first, Lonnie?
Lonnie tells Jonathan that he’s talked to police, which is likely, but then adds a comment that makes me question if he talked to any Hawkins cops at all.
Tumblr media
Why do you need to ask if Hopper is chief, if Hawkins police came to question you, Lonnie?
2) The timing of Lonnie showing up in Hawkins
Even after being told this his own son is missing, Lonnie does not show up in town until after—
Will’s “body” is found in the quarry
Joyce refuses to sign off on the fake body
Joyce actually speaks to and is able to see Will through the hole in the wall
The next time we see Joyce is when Lonnie pulls up that night at the Byers house. Here is what Lonnie does while he’s there:
Tells Joyce that Will is in her head
Tell Jonathan not to feed into Joyce’s “delusions”
Takes down the Xmas lights that Joyce was using to talk to Will
Covers the hole in the wall that Joyce saw Will through
Unsuccessfully tries to convince Joyce to use Will’s "death" for money
All of these actions align perfectly with Lonnie’s character, do you also see how it also aligns perfectly with Lonnie trying to purposefully cover up the truth?
We don’t see Joyce call Lonnie to come over and I highly doubt that Jonathan asked him to come. Granted, Lonnie was most likely notified by police of Will’s death, why not come right away? Why wait until after Joyce refuses to believe that it’s Will’s body and after she actually sees Will alive in her walls?
Remember that the lab had likely bugged her house as well, given the scene where Hop finds a bug in his cabin.
Think about the timing of when the lab decided to place Will’s body in the quarry and have it found, something that we know for a fact was their doing. This comes after Joyce had discovered the ability to talk to Will through the lights and right after the writing on the wall scene, when Joyce was coming closer to the truth.
If a lab personnel showed up at the Byers, took down the lights and hammered over the wall, that would obviously draw a lot of suspicion towards them. But if the lab could get someone on the inside to do it, perhaps an ex-spouse that can be easily manipulated with cash and already had connections to them, that wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.
That’s also where the lawsuit comes in. If the lab is paying off Lonnie and his family, they can’t just give them the a ton of cash directly, it would likely have to go through a third party under the guise of something else, like a legal suit. I’m willing to bet all my money that the suit Lonnie wanted to file on the Sattlers was just another cover from the lab.
Theory #3) Lonnie was trying to hand Will over to the lab
Another note about Terry, if Will and El are mirrors then Lonnie and Terry may possibly be mirrors, too. If Terry was desperate to get El out of the lab then maybe Lonnie was desperate to get Will into the lab. Also the difference between Terry's daughter being taken from her/Lonnie voluntarily leaving his own son.
Something we know about Lonnie Byers— he was homophobic towards Will and did not want to visit him after he had left.
Something else we know about Lonnie Byers— he likes to fix cars.
Tumblr media
We have confirmation that Lonnie was trying to “fix” Will, at least in a less aggressive manner, by taking him to baseball games. Jonathan says explicitly, “He’s trying to force you to like normal things.” This line is so incredibly loaded, what Jonathan is saying below the surface is "He's trying to force you to like girls."
Tumblr media
The above scene is in the same episode where Jonathan goes to Lonnie’s Indianapolis house, and we get a line from Lonnie about him fixing up a car.
Yes, Will is being compared to a car. Lonnie wants to fix him.
And remember, Will has powers, and powers are being used as a way to explore sexuality.
So given Lonnie’s connection with the lab from MK-ULTRA as expressed before, along with Lonnie’s hatred of Will and homophobia, along along with powers as a metaphor for Will's queerness, it leads me to believe that Lonnie was trying to cure Will of his powers through the lab. This would essentially be the supernatural version of gay conversion therapy.
I want to talk about the word “mistake”
Tumblr media
This word is so potent and really sticks out because we haven’t really seen it used in this way on the show before. The writers could have had Will say “monster” to relate to El's arc, or they could have had him say “freak” which would not only relate to Eddie but is something that Will has called himself in the past. But instead they decide to give him a new word that is different from the labels other characters give themselves.
The word mistake is unique to Will.
What do you do with mistakes? You fix them.
I have a lot of fun with Will-being-a-lab-kid theories, and nothing but absolute love to those who make them, but after doing a lot of my own thinking I’ve since come to the conclusion that Will didn’t grow up in the lab at all, but Lonnie was making an unsuccessful effort to ship Will to the lab. Part of El and Will’s narrative mirroring is Will coming from a normal background while El does not.
Which isn’t to say that the lab didn’t want Will, I think they very much did. I’ve seen the take that Lonnie tried to hand Will to the lab but he didn’t display powers at the time so they wouldn’t take him. But do you really think that that would stop them from wanting him anyway, especially if the boys father was giving him to them willingly? Do you really think that Martin “you wouldn’t stop” Brenner was gonna turn down another child? That someone was willing to give to him?
So then, if Lonnie was willing to give Will to the lab and the lab was willing to take him, what was stopping them?
For starters, I’m guessing that the process involved in receiving a new test subject, especially one that wasn’t born into the lab, would take patience. They can’t just nab Will off the street. They would probably have to surveil things for a while, gain intel from Lonnie, and come up with a strategy.
A strategy that may involve falsifying an accident, a fake body, and the funneling of money via fake lawsuit?
I’m not saying that the lab was the ones behind Will’s disappearance, at least initially. I think the mothergate opening was completely unpredictable from their end and instead necessitated the plan to be accelerated due to sudden unforeseen circumstances, as well as taking advantage of Will’s presence in the Upside Down to try and take him for themselves.
So why wait until now? If they had an airtight plan, why not act sooner?
Could there have been an incident, perhaps, with the lab, which happened prior to Will’s disappearance, that may have delayed this process?
Tumblr media
I’m willing to bet that a mass death event of majority of the test subjects and personnel from the place that Lonnie was trying to send Will to, might be enough to put the brakes on this operation, if not on delay for a few years so they can regroup.
While we’re here, I wanna talk about Will’s similarities to Henry Creel
The comparisons between Henry and Will aren’t something hidden under the layers for only die hard theorists to find, this is something that everyone and their mothers were discussing on twitter. The similarities were noticeable even from casual viewing.
Tumblr media
Image via Reddit
We know from his monologue that Henry’s mother knew he had powers and wanted to send him away to a doctor, a doctor that we later learn was actual Papa Brenner.
Tumblr media
If Will and Henry are similar, is it possible that their parents wanted similar things? The main difference being that Will actually did evade Dr. Brenner.
Furthermore, is it possible that Will has powers similar to One’s and that the lab could have been knowledgeable of this? If that is the case, it may stand to reason that they might be hesitant to bring in someone with similar abilities to the guy who just killed a bunch of people.
I used to think that Will and Henry had to have completely different sets of powers, and while I do think that Will may have abilities unique to himself, given how they are compared I do think that Will may have similar powers to him. In fact, we may have already seen Will display a traveling into the mind ability in season one.
Tumblr media
Theory #3.5) Lonnie’s departure correlates with the Hawkins Lab massacre
If Lonnie was desperate to get rid of the son he hates, and then was told that there was an unexpected delay, it would make sense for him to give up and leave town.
There’s been comments from cast and crew in the past regarding when exactly Lonnie left, but it’s never been confirmed in show.
Evidence for why I think it coincides with the massacre actually comes from the shed scene.
Joyce first mentions Will’s eighth birthday, which would have been in March of 1979. The massacre was in September of 1979.
Tumblr media
Mentioning his eighth birthday specifically places emphasis on that age. Jonathan then follows Joyce by talking about the night dad left.
Tumblr media
We don’t get an exact timeframe or age, but the fact that this follows the story if Will’s eighth birthday does create a correlation with that age. We then switch timeframes when Mike brings up kindergarten.
Think about it, if their dad had left when Will was eight, bringing up his age again would be redundant because Joyce just mentioned it. Mike mentions kindergarten to let us know that this is a different time and age that we’re talking about.
Let’s talk about Lonnie’s debts
Tumblr media
What exactly these debts are that Joyce brings up is never specified. And it could be anything. Maybe a loan he took out, drug or gambling debts, since nothing is stated it’s all possible. But here’s my take:
Will is Lonnie’s debt. That’s what he owes.
Remember that the exact way that Lonnie was going to pay back these debts was with Will. He is linked with this debt conversation.
It is Joyce who brings up the debt, but since she doesn’t specify there’s a reasonable doubt that she herself doesn’t know the specifics. She could know that Lonnie is indebted to someone but not know what/could have been lied to.
I’m imagining the lab giving Lonnie some kind of advanced payment for Will, with the promise that they’ll eventually have him. It would be a way for the lab to control Lonnie. He now owes them, and the lab expects to collect their debts. Despite the lab and Lonnie having similar goals, there is definitely a power imbalance.
Lonnie does want a family, just not one with Will in it
More thorough post here, but in season one we get indications in Lonnie's dialogue that he does want to be around his family, like expressing interest in seeing Jonathan more and calling Joyce "babe," which seems to contradict him living in another town, or hell even leaving his family at all.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
When Joyce gets mad with Lonnie over the phone about not coming to visit, it was specifically a Will visitation day. It's seeming more and more that Lonnie's departure is centered on Will. (Which doesn't take away from any of the potential abuse he hurled at Jonathan or Joyce. He doesn't care about their interests, only his. Furthermore, I'm not placing blame onto Will for Lonnie's absence. That is all Lonnie's doing)
Am I saying that Lonnie has powers?
Well, maybe.
That is something that I’ve been wondering if Lonnie had powers, which granted is something that relied heavily on speculation regarding TFS which I said I wanted to stay away from for this post. Since I don’t have all the pieces yet, I want to consider as many options as possible.
Option A) Lonnie was born with powers, and MK-ULTRA was simply how he became acquainted with the lab/his powers were repressed and MK-ULTRA activated them
Option B) Lonnie received powers from MK-ULTRA and passed it on to Will
Option C) Lonnie was not born with powers nor received powers from MK-ULTRA but it did give him super-powered sperm
May I remind you of Lonnie's comparison to Terry from earlier in the post, and the fact that Terry herself does have powers.
Tumblr media
I oftentimes see the theory that Joyce herself has powers, and I myself even theorized that her Aunt Darlene may have had powers. However I'm more inclined to believe that Joyce is a carrier of this gene rather than having powers herself. Most of the evidence used to suggest that she has powers comes from Joyce reacting to what Will is showing her. There's also no indication that Jonathan has any powers.
If Lonnie participated in MK-ULTRA after Jonathan was born, then it could explain why Will would have powers and not Jonathan. Moreover, having both a mother who is a carrier and a father with powers/nuked balls would likely have a higher chance of having a powered child. (That's how genetics work, right? Please forgive me if my science is wrong.)
Notes on Lonnie's character
You'll note that there are multiple times in this post where I acknowledge that I lot of Lonnie's actions are explainable because of his identity as a shitty guy, and maybe that's all this is. However, I want to explain why having this type of character is actually perfect for a reveal like this.
In order to pull off a successful reveal, you have to hide the truth while also giving enough information so it doesn't come out of nowhere. Lonnie's personality allows for the truth to be hidden in plain sight.
Let's say that Lonnie was actually an upstanding man. Jonathan and Joyce both had fond memories of him, but he left in the past for some unknown reason. Lonnie was always a great husband, but for some reason he's doubting Joyce and taking down her Christmas lights even when she asks him not to.
Do you see how that would create a huge plot hole? How season one would feel incomplete? How it would create a giant unanswered question that needs answering?
Why didn't Joyce know about any of this?
Unfortunately we are told pretty explicitly in season one as to why something like this could have been happening under Joyce's nose. We are told in the first episode that Joyce works long hours, leaving early in the morning and not coming home until later in the night. Jonathan is expected to get Will up, make breakfast, and take him to school. My guess is that Lonnie may have been in charge of such tasks when he was still home.
Tumblr media
If Lonnie was, say, taking Will to the lab for some preliminary tests or meetings, he could have easily done this while Joyce was at work or while Jonathan was in school.
We even hear from Joyce herself that she hasn't been keeping up with Jonathan, she isn't in the know how with her sons. (This is not me calling Joyce a bad mother btw, this is definitely a symptom of capitalism rather than bad parenting.)
Tumblr media
Why doesn't Will say anything?
If Will was being taken to the lab for appointments in the past, wouldn't he say something about it? Especially to El, who grew up in the lab?
Well, there's a chance that Will doesn't remember this.
Longer post here, but we are given a scene in season four where Will expresses not remembering something from his childhood very well.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Which I could write off as Will being too little to remember this small detail, but this is also coming from the same season where we just got an entire plot line about memories from El's past being erased. (El who, as I stated in the beginning, has a storyline that mirrors Will's)
The Final Timeline
Tl;dr, or, the timeline written out chronologically:
Lonnie marries Joyce and has Jonathan. Jonathan is born without powers
Lonnie becomes involved with MK-ULTRA sometime prior to Will's birth as a way to make money
Joyce and Lonnie have Will, who was born with powers
When Will is very young Lonnie knows that he has powers
Lonnie begins taking Will to the lab in hopes of curing him
Lonnie and the lab strike a deal that involve taking Will in exchange for money
There is a plan to take Will involving a fake accident. Lonnie will file a fake lawsuit in order to exchange the money and avoid suspicion
The Hawkins Lab massacre happens and the plan is delayed
Lonnie leaves
Mothergate is opened by El and Will is taken
Upon realizing that Will is in the Upside Down, the plan moves forward with Lonnie in on it
Things don't go as expected and Joyce is on to Will being alive, so the lab asks Lonnie to come home in order to help with coverup
Joyce is infuriated about the lawsuit and kicks Lonnie out
The rest of the season follows as we see on screen and the labs plan unravels, some of the personnel is killed by El and the demogorgon in the school
337 notes · View notes
biscuitblinkeu · 6 months
Text
Oddly Entranced [3]
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader
Word Count: 2352
ToSumUp: The king begins to put his plan in action. You take Rosie shopping.
A/N: I’m pretty excited to write the next chapter. Meant to post this yesterday. Was gonna write more to ACTUALLY end the chapter but I’ll save it for next ig
Tumblr media
“…The surface. A place called New York.” 
“The human word,” he stated, face settling into a mask of indifference, anger simmering beneath the surface. There was a low growl in his tone as he spoke, “She’s well aware the human world is forbidden— everyone knows that! I set specific rules and expect them to be followed.” 
“Yes, humans are trouble. I’ve tried to tell that girl…” 
There’s a silence, pain crossing the king's face for a moment. He’s realized no amount of threatening will stop that curiosity brewing in Rosé’s mind. No matter how many times he destroys her human-made trinkets or forbids her to observe the humans, she would not listen. She was too much like her mother. He wouldn’t allow it. He would just have to lock her up— no, he’d destroy her faith in humans. Trust could easily be broken, and he would get through to her one way or another. 
The King settled back down on his throne, shoulders sagged, fingers rubbing his temples. “Bring me my daughters— all three of them. Rosé must be brought home at once.”
“Yes, sir.” The crab made a move to go. 
“Wait,” he commanded, making the crab face him again. “Find out where she is and what she’s doing in this…New York. Contact the Shak’s sea magicians if you must, we need Rosé on surveillance.”
“Right away, my king.” Sebastian side-stepped his way out of the sea cave to do as he’s told. He had a bad feeling about this, but he only wished Rosé the best— he wanted her to be safe. He was loyal to Rosé, having been her attendant since childhood, however, if the king commands him he will do as he’s told…
Jennie, temporarily residing in the Atlantic Ocean, was the easiest to find for Sebastian. She was humming a tune as the maid behind her held up a pearl necklace, the mirror allowing her to see. She nodded in approval.
Sebastian stopped at the doorway to her quarters. “Jennie, the king requests your attendance.”
Surprised, a smile appears on her face. “Sebastian!” She swims to him, maroon-colored tail flicking powerfully. “Father wants to see me?” The feline-featured woman repeated. “Very well. But…” She picks the blue crab by a claw, holding him in front of her face. “Is your shell changing color? I remember it being brighter; are you perhaps stressed, Bastian?”
Sebastian gasps, and Jennie lets him sink to the sea floor. “My shell? What about my shell, now? Oh! It’s really changed color; I’ve got to be stressed.”
The princess frowned. “You poor thing, what’s going on?”
“You know your sister’s been running circles around me— that crazy girl. I’m getting too old for this. She’s why the king needs to speak w’you and your sisters.”
Even though he didn’t say which sister, recognition crossed Jennie’s face, and her smile faded slightly as worry flooded her mind; she knew her sister was a bit eccentric, fascinated with humans. She knew her father and Rosé didn’t get along because of it.  “Rosé? What has she done now?”  
Nothing bad, she hoped. 
“Well,” the blue crab hesitated. Sebastian looked at the maids, who were trying awfully hard to not eavesdrop, then at Jennie again. “I…I’ll let the king tell you, it’s not my place to speak.”
“I see,” Jennie nodded. She turned around, expression apologetic. “Thank you, ladies. You’re dismissed.”
The maids left with slight dips of their head, then the two left to see the king. 
.
“Did you ever find out where she lives?” Isa asked, leaning over your cubicle wall, her lanyard dangling over the side. The two of you had convinced your manager to put your workspaces next to each other, claiming you worked harder when you were in close proximity. 
You stopped typing and pushed away from the desk, cracking your knuckles. Isa watched you stretch patiently.
You shook your head at her. “I…I still don’t know. She always has this look in her eyes, as though the world and everything in it is so beautiful and new— like she’s seeing all of it for the first time. It just doesn’t make sense,” you murmured. “And when I ask I can’t get any answers because she doesn’t speak— or write.”
Isa sighed. “Maybe something happened to her? Like, I don’t know… memory loss? Trauma? Abuse? She seems like a sweet person.”
You frowned at the thought, thinking about where you first met her. “Yeah, maybe. I hope not, though.”
“So, you’re okay with being at work and leaving her alone at your apartment?” 
You thought about it. Are you okay with it? Somewhat. You worried she’ll get into things even though you tried to baby-proof your apartment. You hoped she was able to find the breakfast you made her and the snacks you left out. You wouldn't be so worried if you had just woken her up before you left early in the morning, but thought better of it since she stayed up late watching Netflix. You made sure to explain that for a period of the day she would be left alone— to which she blinked and nodded at, so you assumed she understood— and that you would come back. 
You shrugged. “She’ll be okay.”
Hopefully.
.
You entered your apartment and locked the door behind you, bending over to take off your shoes. Surprisingly, you didn’t hear the television playing, nor anything else for that matter. You wondered if Rosie was sleeping in the guest room, or perhaps left. 
A moment later you heard the quick padding of feet against the floorboards, then a flash of blonde hair entered your vision before you were being pressed into something soft and warm. “Wha…?” You felt heat creep up your neck as arms wrapped around you. 
(You didn’t understand why your hair and body products smelled so much better on her). “Uhm, Rosie?” You tried to pull back, away from the intoxicating smell of vanilla, but she held you tighter, burying her face in your neck. Her grip was tight, almost as though she were afraid you would slip away from her. 
Oh.
A feeling of regret prickled your heart, and instantly, you knew you should’ve been clearer on when you were going to come home. There was a chance she was distracted when you told her, or that she genuinely didn’t know what and where your work was, and it made her think you left and were never going to come back. The latter doesn’t seem so far-fetched, considering that awed look she has in her eyes most of the time. 
Hesitantly, your hand came up to her hair, petting it. Her grip tightened on your coat, and she finally looked up. Your hand paused when you noticed there were tears in her eyes, a subtle frown playing on her lips. 
She panicked when she woke up and realized you weren’t home, chest constricting at the thought she’d be all alone in this world again. She tugged on your shirt, her eyes conveying questions. Where were you? Where did you go? Why did you leave? 
Oh, God. You felt even worse. 
“I’m so sorry I took so long to come back, the roads were bad and— well, you were probably waiting awhile, weren’t you? You don’t have to cry, I’ll always come back.” You said, then wondered if it was something you could keep true. Nonetheless, you didn’t take it back.
Rosie blinked at you, her lips settling in a thin line. Her hands flexed on your shirt, and she raised a brow, non-verbally asking “promise?”.
You smiled. “I promise, and, if for any reason I have to leave longer, I’ll tell you beforehand— and sometimes you can come with me, okay?”
Rosie nodded slowly, releasing her grip on you. She waited till you took your coat off and followed you into the living room, seemingly wanting to be in your presence.
You were relieved to see the omelet you made her was eaten— the snacks weren’t touched however. You put the plate in the sink, stealing a quick glance at Rosie. She was hugging the couch pillow, looking at you.
“Hey, want to go out? I know it’s usually the time you take a nap, so if you don’t want to, that's fine. I just thought you might want to get out of the apartment for a little,” you rambled.
Rosie perked up, lips tugging up into a small smile as she nodded. It would be nice to see more of this world. 
That was all you needed to confirm her agreement. “All right, we’ll go.” She scrambled down from her spot on the couch, already heading to the door.
You eyed her legs, then shook your head with an amused laugh. “If you want to go you’ll have to wear pants, I don’t want you getting sick.”
She froze, already halfway across the room. Slowly, her gaze shifted towards yours, to her legs, and then her lips parted. Her mouth opened and closed - like she was forming words, yet couldn’t get the sound out, before she nodded dejectedly. Okay…
You stepped towards her, putting your hands on her shoulders to steer her to your bedroom. “It’s only for a few hours. Once we finish our activities, we can come back and you can take them off, all right?”
She huffed, and you took it as a yes. She sat on your bed as you dug through your drawers, pulling out a gray sweatshirt with matching sweatpants, and socks with avocados on them. 
When you held them up, her nose wrinkled, so with a laugh you turned around with socks with a few cats on them. She had no negative reaction so you left it.
“Here, you can wear these. It’s still cold out because it keeps raining, so these will keep you warm.” You laid them on the bed next to her.  “Oh! I have hair ties, just if you wanna put your hair up…” you rummaged through your dresser for them. You turned around with a white scrunchy and a regular, black hair tie as options, only to go still in surprise.
She already started to pull her shirt off above her head and you held your hands up, frantically telling her to stop. “It’s not good for you to change in front of me— even though you may be comfortable with it— we don’t really know each other well, and it’s a little embarrassing. You’re…” Oh, she’s beautiful. But you wouldn’t say it to her face and make things weird. That glimpse of her toned stomach caught your attention, and you bit your lip nervously as a warmth crept up onto your cheeks. God, you really are hopeless, aren’t you? (Pretty people are your weakness) Stop staring already. 
“Look, I’ll be out in the living room, just come out when you’re done, kay?” After a singular nod from her, you closed the door behind you and left her to get dressed.
Rosie stared at the door for a few more moments after you left, a blush appearing on her own cheeks. She made you flustered just then, didn’t she? A grin pulled at her lips. She didn’t know humans were so expressive. 
About 10 minutes later she entered the living room. You looked up from your phone, smiling softly at her. Although she looked adorable in your clothes, it was clear you needed to get her some of her own. She had a taller figure than you and though the sweatpants looked baggy on you, they were fitted for her. 
She held the scrunchie and a brush up to you, looking at you expectingly. You laughed lightly, nodding at her, and brushed her hair into a neat ponytail. Then, clad in puffer coats, you left your apartment.
.
The streets, wet and filled with noise, were something you were used to. Rosie, however, would flinch every once in a while because of a car honk or yell from a bypasser. She stayed almost pressed against your side, wide, curious eyes taking in the scene before her. 
You let out a puff of air, breath turning into fog, as you contemplated on where to go shopping. New York had no shortage of places to eat or shop, it was just hard to choose which. 
You spotted a clothing store and headed there. 
“You can pick out anything you like,” you told her. It’s a bold statement, things were getting expensive— but you prepared for this. It’s not the first time. “I’d like you to have some shirts, shorts, and underwear.”
The first time you went broke after taking a homeless mom and her child out shopping, you cried. (They were happy— broke people— tears, of course). Since then, you’ve had a card specifically reserved for your “adoptions,” Issa calls it. She thinks you're crazy because you have a card you voluntarily put money on for other people. 
So if Rosie wanted to buy a third of the store…you would potentially have enough. 
She blinked at you. Anything?
The first piece of clothing she picked up was a navy blue shirt, cropped. Then, a few hoodies with designs on them, and three pairs of shorts. Some baggy jeans, tops, a pair of shoes, etc. 
You couldn’t help but notice that after each item she picked up, she would glance at you. You wondered what she was thinking. 
“Is this all you want?” You asked. The total amount of items was way less than what you expected. 
She nodded, looking bashful. It’s more than enough. Thank you.
“Okay, then.” You headed to the register, putting her stuff on the counter for the two workers to scan. 
“Will this be all?”
“Yes,” you answered, pulling your card out.
“Do you have a rewards card with…” He trailed off, looking at Rosie. “Us?” You saw his face turn red and he kept stealing glances at her as he scanned. The girl next to him was staring too. 
You shook your head, you might’ve stared like that too if you had met under different circumstances.
Would you like to continue?
79 notes · View notes
l0vergirlwrites · 1 year
Text
just you ; max mayfield
warnings: max is 18+, this is written for wlw (happy pride month <3), fluffy fluff
Tumblr media
you still couldn’t believe it.
the girl you had been crushing on for so long finally liked you back. & here she was, next to you in the morning after a movie marathon in your living room the night before. you hadn’t realized how close she’d gotten towards you in the night, your noses almost touching when your eyes finally opened.
shifting onto your elbow, your rested your hand against your head as you peeked over max to your clock, the tabs reading “10:42am”. knowing you should probably get up & start the day, you rubbed max’s arm & kissed her head, his ginger hair strands sparkling in the morning light coming from your window.
she rusted awake a few moments later, mumbling out a “five more minutes” to make you groan with a smile.
getting up from your bed, you threw a sweater over your undergarment clad body, turning around to see max looking at you with a sleepy-loving gaze. “morning” she smiled, sitting up against your headboard.
“look who’s finally up” you walked over, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips briefly before going to the bathroom. “you know where to find me” you reluctantly pulled away from her, opening your bedroom door to your bathroom down the hall.
your house felt so much more alive with your parents travelling on a business trip, so it meant you & max could be yourselves without a filter.
just as you were finishing your skincare for the day, max came into the bathroom & wrapped her arms around your waist & kissed your collarbone while you applied moisturizer to your skin.
“sleep good?” you asked her when she let go, grabbing her toothbrush & toothpaste from her designated cup on the counter. “mhmm, better than ever” she said while looking at you in the mirror before brushing her teeth.
sitting ontop of the bathroom counter, you leaned against the wall as the cold tile made you shiver. max’s left hand came to rest on your mid thigh, her thumb brushing against your skin until she was done. rinsing her mouth out with mouth wash, you opened your thighs so she could stand between them, her hands slipping underneath your sweater to feel your bare hips.
“what do you wanna do today babe?” you asked with a grin, leaning your head closer to hers while your fingers tucked some of her ginger hair behind her ears before cupping her cheeks.
“spend time with you” she smiled back, breathing you in like nothing else mattered.
“what about the group? dustin said he had something planned for tonight—“
shushing you with a kiss, max let out a sigh. “later—maybe. but i just want to be here, with you… no one else” the little omission made you feel warm, so you pulled her back for another sweet kiss. “that’s fine with me. we only get my house to ourselves for a while, so let’s make it count”
helping you off the counter, you & max headed towards your kitchen to make some breakfast. with the stereo playing your favourite songs from a mix tape max made, the sizzling sound of pancakes on the stove, & max setting the table for two as you flipped, you couldn’t imagine anything better than this.
“hey,” you called out, seeing max come into view by your side.
“hmm?” she hummed.
looking into her ocean coloured eyes, you felt it. love.
“just wanted to say i love you… that’s all…” you sweetly said, feeling max rest her head on your shoulder, nuzzling her cheek into your being.
“i love you too… a lot” you heard her say just as you flipped the final pancake.
& from that moment, you knew everyday forward was going to be great, solely because you had max.
authors note: hi everyone!! just want to make a disclaimer that all the characters/people i write for are 18+!! i don’t feel comfortable writing about minors, so please keep this in mind! i will be updating this on my master list since i’ve received some messages about writing romantic things like this for people younger than 18 (it was specific & weird), so i thought i’d clear it up! 🤍
180 notes · View notes
gaysindistress · 1 year
Text
Sad girl - fourteen
summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.
pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader
warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass, the feelings, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), sub Bucky if you squint.
word count: 2.1k
part 13 | series masterlist
taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman    @i-have-no-life-charlie @esposadomd @reader-without-a-story @unaxv @iateall-yourcookies  @alana4610 @kandis-mom @beware-my-thorns @ozwriterchick @littlelizardlizzie @goldensunflowe-r @wh0reforbucknasty @cjand10​  @katymae12344  @vickie5446
Tumblr media
disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest
Nat had become her glam squad at this point, helping her get ready for every event she had to attend. Glam squad, shopping buddy, bodyguard, and friend were the titles that she happily wore. Both women were in the bathroom of Bucky’s D.C. condo, getting Doll ready for the party. Neither had even seen Steve, Sam, or Bucky since they’d arrived earlier that morning. She had gotten a text from Bucky to confirm the details for the night but not much else. It stung that he had gone back to short and formal messages after doting on her while he was away. 
The ring boxes sat heavily on the counter, her stare focused entirely on them as she sat and let Nat do her hair. She hadn’t spoken the entire time and her usual chatter was missed by the woman doing her hair. 
“Rethinking your decision?”
“What?” she blinked at Nat through the mirror, “Oh no just confused I guess. He tried to be this macho asshole when he left but then acted like a loving husband while he was gone and now he’s back to being a dick.”
Nat hums in agreement as she gently rubs oil into the ends of the other woman’s hair.
“I thought making him work for my forgiveness would have him waiting for me with a room full of roses but this,” she shakes the phone in her hand, “this is what I get. No ‘how are you?,’ ‘how was the flight?’, nothing. Did I push him too far?”
Taking a deep breath and setting her hands on Doll’s shoulder, Nat meets her gaze in the mirror, “I think he genuinely felt bad for how he tried you and when you didn’t come running back to him, his ego got bruised and now he’s putting up a wall to prevent that from happening again.”
Her shoulders shag in Nat’s gentle grasp, “Oh my god and I got that dress and had that ring engraved and I had this whole plan for the limo. Oh my god what am I going to do?”
“Woah, woah what was the limo plan? You didn’t say anything about that.”
Looking rather sheepishly, she exposes her plan to Nat, “I had Steve arrange for us to have a separate limo to the party so I could… you know…”
Nat raises an eyebrow, “What? What were you going to do?”
“You know, dominate him because he did the same thing to me,” she mumbles weakly, not bothering to look at Nat’s surprised face. 
“You were going to dominate him right before a senator’s party in his honor?”
She barely nods in confirmation and Nat squeezes her shoulders in excitement, “If that isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. You have to do that.”
It’s her turn to be surprised, turning her head to actually look at Nat, “What? You think it’s a good idea?”
“Of course I do. He needs someone to challenge him every once in a while. It might be good for his ego to be taken down a few pegs.”
_______________________________________________
Seven o’clock on the dot and the limo pulled up in front of the condo. Before Bucky could open his door to get her, the other door opened and in a blur of white, she slid into the seat next to him. 
“Bye Nat,” she wiggled her fingers in goodbye to the smirking redhead who returned her wave.
The partition instantly closed and it was just the two of them, the jewelry box in her lap, and a lot of unanswered questions. As the limp pulled away from the curb, she said nothing while she adjusted the necklaces around her neck. She had yet to even acknowledge Bucky and the anticipation is starting to itch under his skin. He’s staring at, eyes burning holes into her as he takes in her form. The corseted top perfectly hugged her chest, leaving enough hidden that he knew she would be the center of attention. The slit showed off the legs he had been dreaming of for the last week and the white against her skin gave her an angelic glow. 
Feeling his burning gaze, she smirked to herself and removed the box from her lap to set them on the seat in the middle, “There’s your ring.”
She could see the gulp he took as he reached for the box and the accompanying look of shock when he saw what the ring was. 
“I had my initials engraved on it. I have yours on my necklace so it’s only fair you wear mine too.”
She watches from the corner of her eye as he takes the ring out to inspect it further before sliding it on his ring finger. 
“It looks good,” she finally looks over at him and sticks her hand out so he can get a look at her ring, “I think our rings make quite the pair, don’t you think?”
The diamonds sparkle under the passing lights, catching every ray of light that comes in through the darkened windows of the limo. He gently takes her hand, sending sparks through her, and turns it side to side to look at it. A small hum comes from him, voice stuck in the back of his throat. 
“You can speak,” her voice is mocking at his silent state as she takes her hand back. 
“Doll you look amazing. Better than I imagined,” it’s deep and gruff, filled with desire. 
“I know,” it’s her turn to take in his form. She had half expected him to be wearing a uniform however she found him in a midnight blue three-piece suit complete with his usual watch and pearl bracelet. 
“You look good too,” her simple compliment made him want to launch himself at her to get more out of her signature red lips, however, she’s faster than him. 
She straddles him, causing him to make a surprised noise but it’s muffled by her hand covering his mouth. The look of surprise and lust is one she wants to cherish except she has a limited amount of time to enact her plan. His hands grip her hips tightly as her free hand pops the button of his slacks and slips inside his boxers. The feeling of her soft hand around him is too much and he throws his head back, moans and curses muffled by her hand still. The noises he makes cause a deep ache inside of her and her underwear are growing wetter by the moment. She fully takes him out and bunches her dress up so she can slide her underwear to the side. Sinking down on him both of them let out loud moans at the feeling. Satisfied with her position, she tightens the hand on his mouth and uses the other to put pressure on his neck. 
“You really thought I would let you get away with trying to dominate me like that?” she purrs into his ear as she sets a slow and deep pace, dragging her hips at an achingly slow pace. 
“You should know better than that. I told you I was in control but yet you had to test me, didn’t you? I should use you to get off and make you wait to cum until the end of the night,” she chuckles darkly as the man beneath her shakes and tries to plead against her palm. 
“It’s cute you think you have a say,” she picks up her pace while the sound of bodies slapping against each other fills the air, “keep your hands on my hips and cum when I say.”
She removes her hand from his mouth to steady herself on his shoulder and filthy, loud moans pour out as they move against each other. As they approach the party, they both tense and chant the other’s name chasing their highs together. 
“Cum for me Bucky, let go with me,” she demands of him as she pants. 
A string of fucks and shits leave his mouth as they cum together. She rests her head on his shoulder as she catches her breath. She checks the time on his watch and slides off of him, both of them hissing at the feeling. 
He watches her as she fixes her dress and checks her hair and makeup on her phone. Shooting him a small smirk, she makes a gesture to his pants, “Fix yourself. We’re almost at there.”
“Yes ma’am,” he says under his breath, tucking himself back into his pants and fixing his suit. 
Just as they catch their breath, the partition slides down and the driver tells them that they have arrived. Taking his hand into hers, Doll says, “After you Sergeant.” 
_______________________________________________
As most politicians’ parties are, this one is especially stuffy and rigid, especially considering that it’s in someone’s home. The wannabe White House is filled with politicians, their less-than-happy wives, and enough security you’d wonder if there’s something more serious and sinister going on. Posing as the most perfect couple, Bucky and Doll had been arm and arm, dazzling everyone with their love-drunk smiles. Neither had made mention of what had happened in the limo however that is the first thing on his agenda when Bucky gets her alone. 
Steve and Sam had wandered off some time ago but the line of pushy senators and their judgmental wives was slowly coming to an end. Same as the fundraiser weeks ago, the men were all too focused on Doll’s cleavage and the women left their hands on Bucky’s arm for far too long. 
“James tells me you two got married a couple of weeks ago,” one overly dramatic woman had said, feigning joy at the couple. 
“Oh yes, we did! It was a small ceremony but so perfect,” Doll responded, her left hand coming to his chest so the older woman could see her admittedly massive rings. At the sight, she’d wrinkled up her nose before whispering a “congratulations” and walking away. 
“She acted like I sucked you off in front of her,” Doll says, watching the woman disappear into the crowd. 
Chuckling, Bucky follows her eye line to the retreating woman, “We did come in looking less than presentable.”
“I made sure we both looked normal when we came in.”
“Speaking of that, care to explain?” 
She can feel his blue eyes on the side of her face so she turns to look at him, “I made it pretty clear, didn’t I? I am not your submissive housewife. I’m in control just as much as you are and you needed a reminder of that.”
“Trying to assert your dominance then.”
“I’d say I was successful,” she says under her breath as Steve and Sam make their way back to the couple. 
Bucky smirks, hand finding the middle of her back and smiles at the two approaching men. Steve informs them that the host wants to make a toast and that they need to make their way outside. 
“You never told me why they were honoring you three for.”
“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” he says while guiding her towards the backyard which is really a well-manicured garden. 
“Jesus it looks like they live on the set of Bridgerton,” whispering to Bucky, her eyes wide taking in the elaborate hedges and rose bushes around them. 
“Isn’t this what Anthony’s house looks like?”
“We lived in his apartment. It wasn’t until Morgan was born that Pepper decided they needed a house outside of the city and ‘away from the violence’ that they bought that house,” she explains, using air quotes around most of the statement. 
His thought is interrupted by the host, a short older man in a violently blue suit, who begins to speak. 
“Welcome everyone! My wife and I want to say thank you for joining us this evening,” he shouts over the crowd, greedily grabbing his much younger wife, “We asked you here to celebrate three very special gentlemen and what they have done for this country. Steven Rogers, Samuel Wilson, and James Barnes fought bravely for our country in Iraq together only to come back and continue to serve us selflessly. These three men have given most of their lives to protect their fellow American citizens and we can’t thank them enough. In addition to being fearless soldiers, they are also close friends of mine as well as many of you so let’s raise our glasses in honor of them. To Steven, Samuel, and James!” The crowd erupts into a cacophony of shouts, cheers, and hoorahs. Cameras flash, blinding the four as the senator poses with them, no doubt using their veteran and mercenary statuses to garner more votes and support. 
In between photos, she leans over to Bucky to clarify their earlier conversation, “All this to show off his fancy toy soldiers.”
“Something like that.”
“Now I see why you’re such a controlling asshole, always under the thumb of smaller and weaker men.”
The hand on her hand shifts to harshly grab her waist, “Or I have a spitfire for a wife.”
“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”
235 notes · View notes
Text
The Promise of Eternity (Part 7)
Author: @astarionslittlejuicebox
Imagine: The reader helped Astarion ascend and became his spawn. After saving the world from the Elder brain and it’s destruction, the reader and Astarion set out to take on the world together. While he promised to never forget the gifts the reader has given him, Astarion has seemed to have changed his attitude towards the reader in the last century…. After someone breaks one of  Astarion’s rules, how will this affect the reader’s fate?
Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader
Trigger warnings: potential for minor spoilers, suggestive themes, language, mentions of death, mentions of blood, abusive relationship, mention of slavery
Word Count: 1390 
Imagine Series
Side Notes: 
This imagine series takes place 200 years after the events of Baldur’s Gate 3.  Everything you read in here is a story from my mind outside of the original BG3 character Astarion.
In this imagine series, Astarion is a bit more unemotionally unavailable, and this series will follow the decisions and consequences of that change. This is not canonically accepted and it is just an idea I’ve had in my head! (I do believe Astarion might truly care for the reader after Ascension, but that is open to individual interpretation.)
In this series, TAV is mildly based on my first character I played in BG3; she is a drow and I will make references to her in her background and knowledge as well. I do apologize that it is not 100% your own imagine, but the name for TAV is up to you as well as anything else that I can think of leaving to you, the reader, to decide.
I appreciate everyone who reads the imagines and this series, and I hope you enjoy the story!
TAV POV
The cream sand felt warm under my bare feet as I walked along the coast of the emerald sea. Sand shifted and swallowed my small feet as I stepped lightly across the long stretch of the empty beach. Small impressions of my footsteps were the only clue to my presence interrupting the otherwise serene landscape. At the end of the beach, where sand fully met the water, there was a cluster of bushes that stood unkept and free of the gardener’s touch. Beyond those bushes was a small rock cave, hidden and safe from prying eyes. Once I was hidden away from the sun’s rays and the world, I dropped concentration on the invisibilty spell I had cast whilst I was walking in the castle. I followed the short tunnel to an open area in the cave, where I finally felt safe from anyone and everyone. I let out a sigh of pure relief as the items I had left in the cave still appeared untouched. The small clearing in the cave had small candles of various colors standing about the room; some of the candles were more used than others, but they were all currently unlit. Soft velvet pillows were still laid about on the floor, and a small table with a little shrine to Mystra stood shyly in front of the western wall. I lit some of the candles before I set my satchel down next to a velvet pillow in the center of the cave. Taking a seat on the pillow, I crossed my legs and closed my eyes.
One of things I had learned once I left the Underdark was that wizards needed to be of clear mind and body when using or performing certain spells. While I thought I was in the best mental state I could be in, something in the back of my mind was nagging at me that I needed to figure something really important out before I could properly perform the spell. I clasped my hands together as I took a deep breath. I stilled my mind and found myself staring at my reflection in a large mirror that occupied the length of the large open room. I stared at the ruby-red eyes that I had not seen truly reflected back at me for over two centuries, and I studied them. They seemed to have dulled either from a lack of sleep or a lack of compassion from those dearest to her. My (TAV’s hair color) hadn’t grown since I became a vampire spawn and my face hardly looked a day over two hundred years old. 
“It’s been a while since you’ve sought me.” My reflection spoke with a somber tone. “I was beginning to think you had forgotten how to reach me.” I felt my lips pull downwards into a frown.
“I do apologize. I had not needed to clear my mind in a while.” The sad tone to my voice made my reflection frown.
“You may not have felt the need to clear your mind, but you have needed my console on a most pressing matter.” I felt my eyebrow lift on its own accord. “You have been ignoring this matter for far too long.” Her words brought confusion into my mind. “Do not tell me that you have given up any and all hope for Astarion?” 
“It is hard to hold onto hope for someone to change their pattern of behavior that they’ve decided to use for a hundred years.” My eyes rolled in their socket at my mirror-self. “I am losing hope that something will change with him, yes.” The drow’s head in the mirror shook itself in disappointment at me. 
“Think about something for a moment, will you, (TAV’s name)? When did Astarion’s behavior change?” I pondered the question I was asked as I thought about the night where everything changed between Astation and myself.
It had been during a spring rain storm when our butler, Ilvisar, knocked on our bedchamber door in the late hours of the evening. He informed Astarion of a drenched visitor standing on our doorstep, but Astarion had waved a dismissive hand towards the elf butler. Ilvisar had informed us that the visitor was adamant about speaking with the lord of the house. Reluctantly, Astarion and I followed the butler to the front door, where a blonde tiefling stood with her back facing us and water dripping onto the hardwood floors. I remember Astarion opening his mouth to say something, but when she made eye contact with him, all he said was, “What is a gorgeous creature like you doing out in the rain?” From that moment forward, wherever Astarion went she followed. My eyebrows furrowed again as I recalled the events from that fateful night. 
“How long has it been since the tiefling has come into your life?” A perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose on the drow in the mirror’s face.
“She’s been in our life for…” My next words came out of my mouth slowly. “...at least a century.” Something about that statement felt off. Tieflings live, age, and mature at the same rate as humans, and have a life expectancy of at least a century, while some can live up to a hundred fifty years of age. However, the tiefling has shown no signs of aging since the day she arrived.
“It’s quite a curiosity that she hasn’t seemed to age at all in the last century.” The drow in the mirror studied my face as I let her statement simmer in my mind. “She still has a beating heart and breathes oxygen in her lungs.”
“Curious indeed. She is certainly not a spawn nor a vampire.” I admitted aloud, but I thought about something else. “Astarion has come to see me twice in the past couple of days.”
“Indeed he has. Tell me, during those visits, have you seen a glimmer of your lover in his eyes?” The reflection cocked her head to the side in a questioning way. “Have you not seen how he looks at you whenever the tiefling is not present?” Her last question brought my attention back to her as brief moments where Astarion smiled at me or seemed to notice my presence occurred whenever the tiefling wasn’t around, but those moments were few and far between for the tiefling hardly left the vampire’s side. The drow in the mirror was right, something was off about the tiefling. A knowing smile came upon the drow’s face in the reflection.
“She’s not a tiefling.” I spoke aloud, and the reflection slowly clapped her hands.
“Finally, you used your brain cells.” The reflection said with relief evident in her voice. “Now, you need to figure out what she actually is, and how she is managing to control our little star. If you figure that out, we may be able to get him back.” I gave the reflection a nod before I closed my eyes again. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the rock cave staring at the small stone statue of Mystra. Looking around the small cave, I had an idea.
I found a small rock and etched the circle and symbols from the book into the ground. Next, I found four pillar candles to place in each of the four corners. I grabbed the only red candle in the room and sat it in the middle of the circle. Following the steps written in the midnight blue book, I took a seat in the center of the circle and lit the final candle. Closing my eyes, I visualized outside of the house the night of the tiefling’s arrival and recited the chant. I felt a gush of heavy wind swirl around me before I felt myself hovering in the air.
I was floating above the ground in the pouring rain during the late evening hours. Looking to my right, I found the entrance of our castle standing proudly in the darkness. My favorite flowers were standing strongly in the flowerbeds by the steps to the front door--a sight I hadn’t seen in the century since the tiefling’s arrival. My eyes widened with excitement as I realized that the spell had finally worked, and I was about to get some answers about the mysterious tiefling living as an imposter in my house.
40 notes · View notes
saradika · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media
— WASTELAND, BABY
viii. you’ll gaze unafraid, as they sob from the city roofs
Tumblr media
[masterlist] | [part vii]
boba fett x f!reader
rated E - 5k
tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes (violence & death), angst, feelings, miscommunication, mentions of birth control, outdoor/semi-public sex, PiV, fingering, creampie, use of weapons
a/n: if you missed my poll, I realized that I liked sen’ika (little bird) more as a nickname instead of little one/ad’ika. I’ve made some edits and will be using it moving forward!
So funny how life in the Wasteland can bleed from bliss to terror in a matter of days.
Tumblr media
"Come on."
You're unable to help the swoop in your stomach of excitement when you hear his voice.
Interrupting your concentration as you work on the rusting, sky-blue box of the radio tower. Working the thick switch up and down, waiting for a green light that doesn't appear.
You've been trying not to look too eager, in the days that have passed since that night. Trying not to follow Boba Fett around like a lost puppy.
Stick to the work that needs done. Plenty of crops to plant in the newly-tilled field. Your back still twinges from two days ago, when you had spent half of it bent over, pushing tato seeds into the dirt.
Thinking it would be a good way to focus your energy, but the mindlessness of the activity only led your own to wander. Like it had, for days now.
Remembering the feel of his lips. The way he touched you - a gentle sweep of his thumb before he was pulling you to meet him. The drag of his cock, how he knew just what to do to make you come.
It was distracting, to be certain.
The storm that blew through yesterday should have been a respite. A relief in the much-need nourishment for the fields, all those acres of dirt and dust.
An afternoon spent huddled beneath hanging, blinking bulbs. Engrossing yourself in the stories and small talk to keep your eyes and mind from wandering and wondering.
Wishing for a hand to curl around a wrist - pull you into a dark corner. Never happening, with how small the quarters were, how thin the walls were with the town crowded into the cantina, the shop next door.
Your thoughts come back into focus with the heavy click as you move the switch to the "off" position. Wiping your hands on your pants as you turn fully around. To where he's standing.
"We need to check the perimeter after the storm, make sure the fences are sound." He says, by way of greeting. "Think it would be a good experience for you to accompany me."
A twinge of disappointment twists with curiosity. A quick nod as you pack up your things, a furtive moment of trying to tidy your clothes before you're walking beside him, out towards the edge of town.
Those silent seconds make you wonder what his intentions are. A hope that his thoughts align with yours, an excuse to sneak away.
But the sun hangs high overhead - the afternoon breezy. A perfect one for work, and so again - you're left feeling lost.
The buildings shrink as you walk, following down that dirt path. Past the acres of fields, the occasional stop as Boba checks on the work, offers advice. Each word received with their full attention - something you notice with a small, tender smile.
Trying to keep back, to wait - but you're pulled in with the occasional "what do you think?" or "wouldn't you say so?". That attention is mirrored, when you finally find your tongue.
A warmth settles over you that has little to do with the sun. Wrapping around you as the fence line comes into view. Where he stops, gloved fingers checking the fence ties. A little bag of clipped wires passed your way, as he shows you how to fix the ones ripped loose from the wind.
The little spark of hope in your stomach fades, as you realize you're actually there to do work. Wondering if you did something wrong. If that night had been a one-time thing, and you had misunderstood.
Worried that just maybe… he wished he hadn’t.
Such a thought threatens to stagger you, but you still try to make the most of the afternoon as you work your way down the line. You’d gotten good at compartmentalizing - saving your thoughts until you were alone.
Taking the moments as they come - no excuses needed to be made as your eyes trace the sharp curves of his helmet, when he's explaining something.
Or when you need to step closer - both sets of hands needed to wrangle the thick branch off the top, where the metal dips under the weight.
Time ticking by, until you're further out than you've been. The path opposite than the wooded one that winds around the river.
Here, it's scattered trees and broken roads. The ground littered with thick brush - the curve of hills and a mountain lining the horizon. An inorganic splash of a long-abandoned gas station marring the view.
A pair of old, rusting cars rest against the fence here. Faded shades of red and stained yellow under the years of sun and rain and snow.
Your fingers tap on the broken headlights, the spider-web cracks across the thick lens. A lean of your hip as you peer into the interior through the windshield, but it's already been stripped bare.
Boba is watching, when you turn back. Close enough where you can see the chips in his painted armor, the small dent in his helmet. The twist of a torso as he’s turned half-way from you - facing back towards the road to town.
Or, at least, you think he is - his expression and words shrouded by the mask. Both a defense and an offense. Protecting him, while enhancing his sight. All the better to keep an eye out for anything or anyone approaching.
A necessity, but you can't help but miss the feeling of his eyes on yours. You wonder if you'd be able to read him better, even with the serious tilt of his eyebrows, the grit of his jaw.
The lingering of a moment, and you begin to step away - to move around the car, to check the fence there.
His voice halts you, the low buzz of it through his helmet.
“I can see you thinking, sen’ika.” He tells you, and you can’t help the small smile at that, “I wish to know what’s been on your mind.”
You try to find his eyes behind the visor, as a heat licks up your spine, to burn in your cheeks. What haven’t you thought about?
Replaying those moments spent together in a slow loop. The brush of his lips on your shoulder and that small bit of softness, when he could have been all hard edges.
After a moment, you swallow - finding your thoughts and your voice, “I’d like to know the same, of you. And I suppose… I am wondering what we’re doing out here.”
His helmet tilts as he hums. So broad in his armor as he turns fully your way, and you think his gaze is fixed on you, now.
Arms cross over his chest, as he picks at part of your answer, “Is that all?”
You both know it isn’t. He must be teasing, because surely he must know how he’s become a fixture in your mind.
“No,” Your head shakes, as he moves closer. Hands bracing against the curved edge of the hood for balance, as he crowds your space, “I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night.”
His thighs almost brush yours, and you find yourself pushing yourself up, until you’re sitting. Knees spreading as he fills the space, the sun glinting off his visor as his head tips towards yours.
“And what about that night has been on your mind?” Boba’s voice is a low rasp through the helmet, thrilling you.
Hand bracing on the hood on either side on your hips. Leaning further into your space as your thighs shift wider, making room for him.
“Oh,” you breathe, trying to think. Finding it hard to do so, now. “Um, you.”
He laughs - a short, rough buzz of a sound.
“Be more specific, princess.”
You shift, hopeful and eager and nervous under his gaze - all the feelings swirling together, “I‘ve thinking about how good you felt.”
“A shared sentiment.” Boba’s fingers shift, touching down on your hips, tracing feather-light patterns on your thighs, “Anything else?”
There’s the shift of his feet, leaving smallest gap between you. It would be easy to close it, with a roll of your hips, and you wonder if he’s waiting for you to do so.
A moment of wonder, as you realize that there may be more that overlaps between you than you thought. The distance of those last few days merely the beginning of learning a dance that neither of you know.
So you close that gap. First with your words. The flicker of confidence bolstered by his - the way he curves over you, the movement intimate and pointed.
“Plenty more.” Your teeth press into your lower lip as you smile, “I was hoping you’d come find me again.”
“Did you, now?” He husks, just as you shift. A roll of his hips as he meets you, as you lean back onto your elbows.
Rocking him against your core, your knees pressing against into his hips, leaving your feet to dangle. Fully seated on the hood now, the metal sun-warmed against your back, through the thin layer of your shirt.
His hands curve against your waist, the slight pull as he starts a slow grind. Pleasure sparking through you with the pinch of his grip, how it’s soothed when he’s pressed flush against you.
“Mhmm.” You sigh - the words coming easier now, with the reciprocation of touch, “But I was worried you regretted it.”
There’s a sound like a growl, a sharp rut of his hips. Holding you against the place where his flightsuit has begun to tent, a hand bracing near your ribs as he leans over you.
“The only thing I regret, princess, is waiting so long.” He husks, as you blink up at him, “If we were back in Mos Espa, I’d take my time.”
You feel yourself clench around nothing, a little buck of your hips as a soft moan escapes your lips.
“You came so quickly on my tongue. I’d like to see how many I could pull from you.” He sighs, a little tug to your hip to pull you closer, “That’s what’s been on my mind.”
There’s a little shiver, in spite of the heat. Your brains going blank except for the thought of him - the imagined grandeur of his space in Mos Espa. The prospect of hours spent in his company, alone and stripped bare.
In another time you might have been embarrassed by his words, if not for the tinge of pride in his voice. You’d been sated, exhausted, last time. The promise of more had you eager, squirming.
“Please.” You manage, the sound a soft gasp in the miles of deserted landscape.
The hand on your hip curves beneath your thigh - running down. Past your knee as he hoists your leg up, until your boot rests on the curve of the fender.
Fingers plucking at the laces, working it off one foot before he starts on the other. Methodic in his movements, while you’re grasping at your belt. The clink of metal as you pull it open, the pop of a button as your hips lift - pushing the fabric down.
Your layers pool at his feet, a hand pushing up the edge of his helmet so he can tear the gloves off with his teeth. Bare hands trace up your thighs after, a fingertip tracing over your mound as he gives the hem of your shirt a tug.
“This too. It was too dark to see you, last time.”
The shirt is tugged off, stuffed beneath your shoulders. Your bra lost somewhere on the hood, as he finally gets you bare - the sun warming your skin.
“Will I get to see you?” You ask, as his fingers split - tracing down either side of your slit.
One of them nudging at you, splitting you then - a rough groan when he meet slick flesh.
“Another time.” He grits out, and you think you understand.
Boba can keep you safe, his helmet sending an alert from anyone approaching. If he were to be as bare as you, that guarantee would disappear.
Any disappointment disappears as two thick fingers sink into you. Stretching you open as you cry out - you hand rising to muffle the sound.
They fill you, the slightest flex you can feel, before he’s slowly beginning to pump them. That pressure transforming as he learns from this new angle how to crook them, until he can feel you clenching around him like before.
Leaving your own hands to wander. Letting you tug and pull at his layers until you find the buttons and zippers. Letting your fingers brush hot, swollen flesh as you lean up on a elbow to draw him out.
The flex of his hips seating him against the curve of your thigh, his cock heavy where it rests against you, arcing towards your stomach.
His head is tipped down, and from this angle you can just get a glimpse of the reflection of his fingers pumping into you. How they shine when he pulls them back, only to sink deep, stroke against that spot.
It has you aching - that eagerness spreading through you again. Fingers tracing over his cock until you’re wrapped around him. The squeeze of your fist as he rocks into your touch, his breath heavy through his helmet.
You’re sure he wants to make you come on his fingers, but you’ve been waiting for four days.
It has you nudging at him again, angling his cock to slide against the swollen bud of your clit, before letting it bump up against his fingers.
“Is there something you want, sen’ika?” You can hear the amusement in his voice, just as he his fingers drag against you.
The groan of his name is your answer, a needy jerk of your hips as he eases from you, the same hand wrapping around his cock.
A catching of the hand that rests on the hood of the car. Dragging it to the place on your hip that now matches his - his fingers denting soft flesh, feeling the implant beneath.
Fennec had all but crowed when you had stumbled home the next morning. Leaving you with a puzzle to put together - a reference to your first day that you hadn’t understood, something about how she should have known he was lying.
A poorly suppressed smile and a roll of eyes. Your worry that she disapproved mending as she let you crush her fingers in yours at the clinic the following day. But not before she reminded you what she had told you.
That is why you had tried to protect your heart. Your meager line of defense cracking at his touch now, with the growl in his throat as the pad of his thumb presses down again.
“You want me to fuck you properly, is that it?” Boba rasps, with a stroke of his cock, “Fill you, like I had wanted?”
There would be murmurs after - a check that you really had wanted to do this. An assurance you didn’t need to, but in this moment there are few thoughts in either of your heads.
“Yes,” You breath, with a slow drag of your eyes - lifting from his hand to his helmet, “Please-”
The sound of your words still hang in the air as his cock passes over your slick skin. Tapping against your clit before dropping, a shift of his hips as the presses against your opening.
A rough, drawn-out “fuck” as he sinks an inch into your warmth, and then another. Your thighs squeezing his hips as his helmet tips down, to watch you take him.
So different from this angle, this time. Even as covered as he is, you can see the rise of his barrel chest with his breath. The bare patch of skin where his suit opens - dark curls at the base as he splits you open.
Hands hook under your knees, hoisting your thighs up to wrap around his waist. Spreading you open - your heels pressing against him, urging him deeper.
Your hand claps against your mouth, when he buries himself. The ragged sound of your moan muffled - the end breaking free as he lets go of a thigh to pull at your wrist.
Dragging you fingers down between your thighs, hand mapping yours until your fingers are pressing against your clit.
“None of that,” It’s a command, as his hand hoisting your leg up again, so he can grind himself deeper. “I want you to give me everything.”
You realize that is why he’s brought you so far out here. Doing the work that needed to be done along the way out of necessity, but the intent has always been there.
He wanted to hear every sound. See every movement you hadn’t been able to make, pinned against the table like you had been.
You both begin to move at the same time. The piston of his hips matching the circle of your fingers. A shallow drag of his cock as he pulls back, the sweet pleasure when he thrusts deep again.
There’s a freedom in the seclusion. In knowing that you’re safe here - the chance of being stumbled upon unlikely.
That knot loosening in your chest, the threads of propriety from an age long ago starting to fray. Close to snapping with the miles of armor - the slick-sounding snap of his hips as you take him, again and again.
A lewdness in the way you’re bared under the sun, him with so many layers. It’s a near-manifestation of all your late-night dreaming. Better than any of them, with the low rumble of his groans, the way his cock fills you so perfectly.
It has you letting your moans loose, as your head tips back against the hood. Leaning into the winding press of your fingers, your thighs inching further apart so he can drive deeper.
A shallow rock of your hips, as you move to meet him. A winding, building pressure in your belly - stoked by the memories of last time, the known pleasure of your own touch.
“Just look at you,” He groans, the grip on your legs tightening. Pushing a thigh back towards your chest, opening you up further, “Fucking perfect, you know that?”
His praise steals your breath, an accelerant to your pleasure. A whimper as his fingers sweep against your skin, your own hand wandering - cupping a breast. Tugging at a nipple, as the other works between your thighs.
The sight has him groaning - a sharp grunt accentuating the sharp punch of his cock.
Last time, he had held out. The low light an aid as he made you come on his tongue, before fucking you with his cock. His thoughts swirling since then, days of desire mounting in his mind, a foreplay that has a the pressure building, threatening to break.
“Where do you want it, princess?” Boba’s voice is rough, as if he’s barely holding himself back, “You still want me to fill that pretty cunt of yours?”
You’re so close you can taste it. The circle of your fingers speeding up, three pressing down against your clit as you moan.
Nodding, as you beg, “Yes. Yes, in me-”
The words petering out to soft sounds - the catching of your breath and whining whimpers with each breath. His thrusts speeding up to match yours, as you careen towards the edge.
“Come for me, and I will.” The encouragement shoots through you, straight down to that throbbing point between your thighs, “I can feel how close you are, want to feel you again.”
You can hear his words, but they slowly turn to static. A chain-reaction that starts at the tips of your fingers, swooping low in your belly to radiate outwards. Your orgasm crashing over you - Boba’s groan a rough, low thing as you pulse around him, his name pitched high on your lips.
A sharp grin, hidden behind a mask as he watches - a slow sweep that always returns to your face, catching every detail.
“That’s it, little bird. Let me hear you sing.”
His voice low and rough as he fucks you through it, chasing his own end. Unable and unwilling to edge himself any longer - not with the way you wrap around him, so tight and warm.
Then, his head is tipping back with his snarl. Giving you a peek of his neck, the column of his throat above his cowl. It’s not his face, something you long to see - to watch, as he falls apart, but it’s still him. Still something to cherish.
You can watch how his fingers dent your skin - the tight grip as he tugs you to meet the shallow pump of his hips as he spills into you.
Pushing himself deep, grinding as you milk the last of his spend from him. Your own orgasm still fluttering in your belly, down your limbs.
Slowly, you come back down.
There’s the sticky dampness of sweat on your skin. A hand curled around and a splayed palm against your back. Close to an embrace, with how close he is - still connected, because he hasn’t moved away.
A slow roll of clouds above, pale against a bright blue sky. Any thoughts gone from your head, leaving you blissful and boneless.
Things will never be perfect, not after what happened.
But as Boba leans over you - fingers tugging up the edge of his helmet just enough to let his lips press against yours…
You think this has to be pretty close.
Tumblr media
Sweat beads at the base of your neck, as you crouch in the fields. Tying the twisting, curling vines of the Tatos to the makeshift trellis. Row, after row - enlisting some of the older children to help.
Giving them something to do, as they run back and forth between you and the plants. Getting more string, trying to get you distracted so you'll chat.
They've grown on you, a little bit. The tatos, that is. The weird flavor and texture - you've learned you can't afford to be picky anymore. And mixed in a stew, it's not so bad.
It reminds you of how others had done the same. How Mos Espa had become a place of familiarly and comfort. The roads and paths and people here ones you now know.
Your own little field, tucked away in your heart - carefully tended. Strengthened since the afternoon with Boba after the storm, that stolen moment in the open fields.
It had led to others. Another morning where he met you before sunrise for your shift. An evening, where you found your bedroll tucked next to his. An arm draped across your waist as you sleep.
Small steps, but just like these seeds - they will grow, with time and with tenderness.
A loud, piercing wail slices through the air, then - cutting your moment of reverie short.
It’s the first time you've heard the siren, other than the quick test that had you all clapping your hands over your ears. A looping warble that has the hairs on the back of your neck rising.
It has you straightening up, as the fear flickers in your chest. Scanning the horizon for trouble, following the mechanical chatter of the defense turret, as its muzzle swivels.
There's something shimmering, just beyond the chain-link fences. Dark and swaying against the hills behind, as your hand comes up to shield your eyes.
Growing bigger with each step. Coming towards you.
The attack that the Oasis has been anticipating - finally arriving.
"Get inside." Your words come out weak - trying to keep an eye on both the figures, and the kids. Trying again, sharper and louder this time, as the siren continues, "Get inside, now!"
They scatter. Scurrying as the settlers race out to meet the incoming storm, spilling from the houses as others are swept up inside.
Still some ways behind you - you've been moving outwards for most of the afternoon. Closer to the edge of town, than where they are gathering.
As the siren dies out, there's a roar.
Inhuman, in the deep, drawn-out rumble. You're trapped in place, as if the vines themselves have twisted around your own legs.
Unable to tear your eyes away from the beings that have now reached the fence - fanning out.
Tall.
You can tell, even from here. Broader than any human - thick arms clutching guns and long, wooden boards riddled with nails.
You've never seen one in person, but the name springs to your mind instantly.
/Super Mutants./
Humans that had been twisted by a virus, fed to them by the military. An experiment gone wrong, when they turned out more cruel than a super soldier should be.
You found seven in all, already clawing at the chain link. Clutching at rusted pipes, boards riddled with nails.
The metal bends, warping under the strength of their hands.
There's the popping of bullets, though you can't tell which way they're going. A voice yelling in your mind to do something - to run. But you still can't seem to move.
You should head back. Barricade yourself inside until it's late. Managing a glance over your shoulder - seeing the much smaller figures still weaving through the rows.
Turning back just in time to see the gates split open, and fall.
Raiders slowly pour from the hills behind - remoras, following in the wake of the sharks. Ready to snap up anything missed, anything left behind. More in number - close to a dozen, fanning out with their weapons raised and waiting.
It throws you back to that first week, after you left the vault. The paralyzing fear rendering you mute, though your thoughts echo endlessly.
Run. Don't just stand there. Do something.
But… you're not alone this time.
You've grown. You've practiced.
And maybe this time, you can do it.
It feels like it takes ages, but your hand moves down to the holster at your waist. Unclipping the pistol, the heaviness bringing you back down to reality.
Shaking in your grip as you bring it up, the movement familiar from the weeks of training.
Strength comes back, as your feet plant in the soil. Steeling your nerves, because you’ve got something to protect now.
Someone.
Boba is out there, somewhere. If you can take one down, then that’s one less that might run into him. One less that could hurt someone else in the village. A life you could save.
Your finger is on the trigger, an eye closing as you hear your name cut across the wind.
Unable to help but look, with the slightest twist of your head. Where he appears - barreling towards the settlement, from the far edge of the perimeter. Drawn by the sounds of the siren, the shouts that have filled the air.
His power armor sits near the middle of town, on that yellow, rusted hanger. It's close to equal distance from where you are. If he gets to it, the battle would tip heavily in the town’s favor.
You smile. He has to make it.
And you could buy him time.
Turning back, you take a breath - and fire.
Tumblr media
The shot strikes the Mutant’s shoulder, but he keeps coming. Your finger pulls - again, and again. Striking arm and the chest, but never slowing. A tremble in your arms, eyes fixed on the massive figure still thunders towards you.
The tiny bit of confidence swept away - devoured again by fear. Acutely aware of how different this was than your practice, so unprepared by their speed and the twist in your stomach.
Wishing desperately you didn't have to do this.
Your hands are clammy with sweat, your heels pressing into the ground as you inhale a breath. Trying, again.
Remembering the way Boba had moved you, those little nudges and encouraging murmurs. Holding your breath - aiming for his head, as you fire.
The Mutant pitches forward with your shot, his snarl cut off as he chokes on the sound. Crashing to the ground, tearing up the tatos as he rolls, only to fall still a moment later.
There's a ragged stab of relief in your chest. Before the terror licks at you again, as you realize there is another, following in his wake.
Fingers fumbling as you try to reload, but you know you won't have time. Wishing you had something more on you, but that crowbar is back in Mos Espa, and your little, rusted trowel would do nothing.
You make for the fallen Super Mutant - thinking you can scoop up the pipe it was carrying. Eyes meeting burning, red ones at the second races towards you, his fingers curled around a board that seems longer than you are tall. The beating of your heart drowns out the sound of its snarl, as his arms raise.
No more than a few yards from you now, as you duck down - your fingers fanning out as you frantically reach.
Never expecting the hand that curls around your wrist, instead.
The sharp tug throws you off balance, as you're pushed backwards, and then down. The world tilting as you land hard in the dirt between the trellises, that iron grip still holding on.
Faded brown and blues bleeding into shades of green.
There's the twist of a torso, as he moves between you and the Super Mutant. A gauntlet rising to catch the heavy, downward swing of the board.
Boba snarls at the impact, the sound through the helmet sending a chill up your spine. The echoing crack as the wood shatters - his fingers letting go as he twists his rifle around.
Firing, before you can blink. Stepping to the slide to avoid a swinging fist, before he's burying a hidden blade into the Mutant’s belly.
Only when it falls does he turn, though his attention fixes behind you - a beckoning curl of fingers at the footsteps that approach, before he's pulling the blade free to finish the job.
“Charon.” Boba barks, “Get her out of here.”
With your mind the mess it is, it takes a moment to realize he means to send you away. To stay alone on the front lines, as the Raiders pour in.
"What?" You're finally finding your voice - crying out as you stagger to your feet, "No!"
Your face is reflected in the dark gleam in his visor when he turns. Tracks of tears running down your cheeks that you hadn't even realized have fallen.
Searching for his eyes beneath, as that moment holds for a second that feels like it stretches longer. Unable to bear the thought of leaving him.
The moment breaks as a hand fists in your shirt, yanking you around. Loosening just enough to wrap around your bicep as Charon urges you back towards the town. Boba’s name bursts from your lips, a ragged plea.
It goes all but ignored. The smallest tilt of a helmet, one last glance your way, before he's sheathing the blade. Reloading with a sharp flick of his wrist.
Your begging turns towards Charon, but his face stays resolute as he hauls you towards the boarded-up houses.
"I do as I am bidden."
Your feet dig into the ground, but he is stronger - forcing you to take one step, and then another.
Dragging up dust that swirls around you, as each one pulls you further away from the battle.
Further away from him.
Tumblr media
sen’ika - little bird
Thank you for reading 💚 part ix will be out thursday, the 27th!
(0-pressure tags 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights, @wingofshadow, @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force, @valentine-tx, @ri-a-rose, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved, @writeforfandoms, @winchestershiresauce, @monada43, @rescuethewretched, @thegalaxys-edge, @honeydjarin, @ray-rook, @dumfanting, @bedky, @thirsty-boba-fett-posts, @dukeoftheblackstar, @lifelikefae, @pentaghasm, @izbelross, @margowritesthings)
66 notes · View notes
neonblessing · 6 months
Text
9.
⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!
“Look, you don’t have to give me a map. Just point me in the right direction.”
“Shiv, kid, I get it. You want revenge. But-”
“I don’t want revenge,” she said. She wasn’t certain if it was a lie.
“Then what do you want?”
“Answers.” Hell, she didn’t even know the finer points of what the two of them had stolen. The house had been full of valuable art, they’d passed a poorly-hidden wall safe on the way to the owner’s office, and they ignored it all in favor of the data drive that had sat atop a messy stack of papers. Ornarch hadn’t told them what was on there, just that it would go for a hundred thousand credits at a minimum, or a million from the right buyer. Most drives its size were just something convenient to hold, with the data itself stored on a chip a few nanometers thick. Whatever was on that drive had been complex enough that the whole damn drive was dedicated to memory. A sphinx glinted darkly on its surface, mirror finish set into matte black. There was something captivating about its sheer scale and the precision of its construction. Something a little sinister, too. Then he had shown up, and the rest of the night was a blurry nightmare of burning, screaming, and blood.
Kooler pursed his lips. “And once you have those answers, what are you going to do?”
“My job. Ornarch wants me to-”
Kooler’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. “Isn’t your job breaking and entering? At least, I think that’s what you told me the first time we met. Forgive an old man’s memory for its failings, but I think I would have remembered hearing a teenager call themself an executioner.” He suddenly sounded very old, and very tired.
“Maybe I’ve changed. Why do you care?” It came out a little colder than she’d intended it to.
“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. None of my business.”
“So you won’t help me?”
“Staying neutral is how I stay alive. Everyone knows old Kooler keeps his mouth shut.”
“That’s a no?” Her heart sank. She’d known it was a long shot, but even still, Kooler was the closest thing she had to a lead.
Whatever he saw in her face gave him pause. “I… offered them ten thousand for the drive. I don’t even have half the hardware it would take to decrypt that… monster. I told them I wasn’t paying a credit more than that for a piece of software I couldn’t validate, no matter what rumors I’d heard. They took their business elsewhere. I don’t know where.”
“Rumors?”
“Have you been online since you stole it?” She hadn’t. “Half of the criminals in the Diluvian District are hunting after that sphinx drive. It’s anyone’s guess what’s on there, but Ebrelurge put a bounty out on it and then a few gang bosses joined the bidding war. As of this morning, the best offer is 1.6 million.”
Lord of birds. One point six fucking million?
He went on. “I don’t know where they went, but I know someone who might. Don’t go telling everyone I lent you a hand, but you’re- you’re a good kid. Just- hear them out when you see them. Don’t rush headlong into being a killer.”
“Yeah.”
Kooler pushed off the counter, sending his chair on a practiced arc towards a shelf of folders in one corner of the shop. He returned bearing a business card, a thin sheet of crisp white plastic stock with “Club RED – 1191-3962” embossed on it in brilliant crimson. The back side of the card was decorated with a staring eye in the same shade. “Kurtz–the owner of Club RED–knows me, and she’s got a panopt. Ask to see Odie. If it can’t help you, no one can.”
Shiv grinned. “Thanks, Kooler.”
“I’d say ‘any time,’ but really I’d rather not stick my neck out again.”
“With any luck, you won’t have to!”
The door squealed as she left.
First Page – Previous Page – Next Page
32 notes · View notes
sinsandsuccubus · 11 months
Text
SUNDAY NIGHT - Jack Harlow
Tumblr media
Context: “Somethin tell me that a relapse comin.”
Genre: angst
Word Count: 2.2k+
Pairings: Jack Harlow X Ex!Fem!Reader
Warnings: n/a
a/n: Okay, so this concept was based on a story post written by the wonderful @lcandothisallday , called “Promises”, which I have linked at the bottom of this post. Thank you so much for allowing me to recreate your story, I greatly appreciate it.
Also, sorry for any spelling or grammar errors, I kept disassociating when I was reading this back over.
Masterlist ☽☾
                                          ☽ ☾
Please don't let nothing get back to me
I've been trying to detach from you
Deep down though, I wanna know about what the fuck you been up to
Old him could have seen that coming
Fuck you I don't need nothing from ya
I was doing pretty good without you
But something tells me that a relapse coming
It was like high-school all over again. Seeing the school in similar shape as it was when you left brought back nostalgic memories. They had painted the lockers and had given the cafeteria and auditorium, as well as the gym, new looks. Of course, new desks were due, and better spirit and decor were all over the place, but overall? The place was a mirror image of memories. You traced the painted gaps of the brick walls with your finger, getting that same smooth feeling on the tip of your finger. Just as you were rounding the corner to the main hallway, you ran directly into a friend.
“Y/N?” You heard a voice speak, their hands landing on your shoulders to steady you. You looked up at the individual only to see someone you hadn’t seen in a long time.
Well, you’d seen, but not actually seen.
“Urban?” You exclaimed, almost jumping into his arms when he nodded his head.
“Holy shit! It’s so good to see you! You look gorgeous, as always.” He spoke, embracing your body in a tight hug. The black, thin-strapped dress that adorned your body as well as the matching black Louis Vuitton pumps and small diamond necklace. A beautiful tennis bracelet sat on your wrist, your hair styled to perfection, almost looking like you walked fresh off the runway.
You had made a name for yourself in your career field, which had put you in a pretty stable financial bracket.
Besides, it was always best to one-up the hoes of your old high-school at your reunion.
Especially since the Jack Harlow was in attendance.
You reflected back on those days when you both were smitten with each other, two teenagers in love. You, actually, often reflect back on it every time he posts on Instagram.
Not that you follow him on Instagram or anything.
No, you totally only see him through Urban’s account, which tags his account in things.
Right.
You and Jack had broken up shortly before his debut album, That’s What They All Say, Jack allowing the fame to take over his personal life and relationships. At least, that’s how you see things.
“Y/N, I swear it means nothing. You know that you’re everything to me, it’s all a part of the game baby. I’ve gotta remain a heartthrob for all the fans.”
“But you had to say you were single during that interview?! You couldn’t have diverted the question? Gave a different answer?”
“Like what Y/N?!”
“Oh, I don’t know Jack. Maybe ‘That’s for me to know and for you to never find out.’ Or, or! ‘I’ll leave it up to y’all to think and decide the answer.’ Anything that didn’t scream “Hey, I’m totally single and out for grabs.”
“You know that’s not it works baby. I have to follow a script.”
“Yeah, and I have to follow my gut.”
“What are you saying?”
“I want to break up.”
Sure, you had broken it off, but if Jack hadn’t played the part, you’d still be together.
Maybe.
“Yeah, and you still smell like weed Urban.”
“Seriously, it’s that bad? I thought that cologne I bought would hide the smell good enough.” He pulled up the collar of his shirt to smell himself, looking around the hallway you two were standing lone in. You laughed at his jester, slapping his shoulder.
“I swear you don’t change.”
“And neither do you Y/N.” He looked around again. “I swear Jack was just around here, he’ll be happy to see you.”
“Mm, I don’t think so.”
“Come on Y/N, don’t think like that.”
“Urban, how can I not? I broke up with him when he needed me.”
“Y/N, you and I both know that wasn’t the case. You got out before the fame got to him, which I don’t blame you for. It’s a little too much for me sometimes if you really wanna ask.” He put a hand on your shoulder, sliding it down to rest on your bicep.
“Look, 2fo and the rest of the guys are throwing an after-party after the reunion and I want you to come.”
“Urban, I don’t-“
“Don’t worry about Jack, don’t come for him. Come for me.” He looked you in the eyes, firm in his word.
“Fine. Only for you Urby.”
“I love it when you call me that.”
It was a house party. Urban had let you know before he gave you the address, and you thought it was a good idea to make a pit stop home to change the look.
Designer heels at a house party? In the backyard? Not a good idea.
Urban greeted you at the door and handed you a wine cooler, guiding you to the backyard where everyone surrounded the fire pit.
“Are there marshmallows?” You asked Urban, whispering in his ear.
“Yup. Some of the chocolate is infused though.”
“Of course it is.” You and Urban laughed before catching the eyes of a few of some other people.
“Y/N! Whatcha doin here?!” 2fo ran up and gave you a hug, squeezing you in his embrace.
“Urban invited me, figured I’d stop in.”
“Stop in? You’re staying. Come sit with us by the fire.” 2fo practically dragged you towards the pit, plopping you down in one of the free seats.
“Yo Y/N, how’s it going? How’s life?” Copelean spoke, giving you a fist bump as you set next to him. Sunni tipped his hat, proceeding to continue roasting his marshmallows.
“Pretty damn good. I made a name for myself after I graduated uni, I flew in just for the reunion.”
“How long are you here for?” 2fo asked, taking a hit off the blunt Urban passed.
“Another two days. I’m catching up with a couple of my girlfriends before heading back out.”
“And you weren’t gonna stop by?”
“I didn’t think Jack would like that.”
The area got silent, tension slowly filling the area. Before Sunni cut it with a knife.
“Y/N, I don’t think it was your fault at all. Yeah, you broke up with him, but you wanted out before the fame.” He spoke, taking a long sip of his beer.
“Yeah, and I can respect that. You never seemed like the type to be attracted to the spotlight. I remember when you got published for an article and you wanted to be published as “anonymous”. Cope spoke, laughing as he passed the blunt back to Urban.
“Listen, I was embarrassed-“
“It was good work.”
“Never said it wasn’t. I just didn’t want everyone to know it was me who wrote that long-ass paper.”
“Yeah yeah. Whatever. Either way, I don’t blame you. We all don’t. We just wish you would have stayed in touch with us at least.”
You nodded your head at all of them, them smiling in return.
“Well. Enough of that! Pass me a s’more, without the special chocolate.” Everyone laughed, Urban passing you the unopened bar of Hersey chocolate. An hour passed as you caught up with them all, sharing stories.
“Yeah, so then he thinks it’s a great idea to race with no shoes on in the dorm lobby. So then, as he rounds the corner, he slips and slides smack into the pole. That’s when I learned he was a lightweight.” Everyone laughed at your story, Urban turning his head as a figure appeared.
“Hey, every- Y/N? What are you doing here?” Jack spoke, his voice changing from happy to annoyed. You stood up, turning to face your ex.
“Nice to see you too Jack.” You folded your arms over your chest, Urban placing an arm over your shoulder as he stood.
“I invited her. It’s been a while since we’ve all seen her, I thought it would be good to catch up.”
“Yeah, without telling me. I greatly appreciate it.”
“Not everything is about you Jack.”
“No, it’s not. But I would have appreciated it if someone had told me my ex was coming.” Once again, it was silent.
“I texted you.” Urban spoke, eyeing Jack with narrow eyes.
“Yeah well, I obviously didn’t see it.”
“Yeah, and I obviously shouldn’t be here. If you’re gonna act like that.” You spoke, grabbing a napkin to wipe your hands of the remaining s’more.
“Y/N, don’t go.” Sunni spoke, now sitting up in his lawn chair.
“Actually, I think it’s a good idea.” Jack spoke, making your eyes widen.
“Okay, I get it, you’re hurt by me breaking up with you, but I’d expect you to be more mature than to hold grudges Jack.”
“Yeah, well, you thought wrong. How did you think I would react after you left me?”
“And how did you think I felt when you went on that interview?”
“You’re still on that?” Jack sighed.
“Yes, Jack! I am because that’s the main reason we broke up! I couldn’t live like that knowing I was your dirty little secret.”
“Yeah, well maybe I should have stayed single. Wouldn’t have to deal with you bitchin'.”
You stared at Jack in silence, tension higher than before. You clenched your fist, close to slapping him across the face.
“Say that one more time, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“I said, maybe I should have stay-“
“That’s enough Jack.” Urban spoke sternly, dropping his arm from your shoulders to look at him.
“What? Y’all act like she didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Because she didn’t. We all saw how you acted during that interview, and we all can see how your fans are with you now. Y/N’s not cut out for that, and you know it.” Copelean stood up, moving to stand next to you.
“Damn, so y’all really gonna do me like that?” Jack spoke, glaring at his friends.
“Don’t worry about it guys. I’ll take my leave.” You spoke firmly, spinning around and heading for the patio doors.
“Y/N, wait!” You threw your hand up in response, grabbing the keys to your car off the counter, all the while Urban took to Jack.
“Are you fucking serious dude? You couldn’t have been more of an ass?”
“What? Y’all seriously thought I’d be okay with my ex at my party? Especially that ex.”
“Look, we get it, she broke your heart, but think about it Jack. How would you feel if she went on an interview claiming she was single for the world to see?” Sunni questioned, now folding his arms now his chest.
“I would say it’s for the business.”
“Bullshit. You were furious when Jason Rudolph asked her to prom. And she rejected him right in front of you.” 2fo spoke, raising an eyebrow.
“Face it Jack, you’re upset because you let a good one get away.” Urban spoke, angrily.
“You don’t get.”
“Oh no, I think I do get it. But what you don’t see is the other side. Y/N is my friend too. I was there when she cried after she broke it off. I was there when she felt guilty about it. I was there those nights she texted you and you never responded. And I was there when she decided to move so she wouldn’t have the reminder of you constantly there. You don’t know how bad she felt. She did it to protect herself. You can’t blame her for that.”
Jack was silent. He was taking in all of the opinions of his friends. And truthfully, he believed it. He knew he was in the wrong. He truly hadn’t looked at the other side. And truthfully, he would have done the same.
You had began to start your driving playlist before Jack appeared at your window, scaring you before you chose to roll it down.
“Yes Jack?”
“Look, I’m sorry for what I said out there. I was out of line.” He moved as you stepped out of your car, looking him dead in his face as he spoke.
“I get what you did, why you did it. I understand why you broke up with me. You were only protecting yourself, putting yourself first, and I honestly don’t blame you for it. Now that I see it, I would have done the same.”
You looked at your ex, his curls shining in the, now, moonlight of the night. His crystal blue eyes stared into yours, sending shivers down your spine. Yet you stood firm in your word.
“I’m not stupid Jack. I know you probably listened to what the guys said and brought yourself out here to apologize.” You making air quotes around the apologize.
“Y/N..”
“I get it. I get it why you’re upset. I broke your heart. Trust me, I understand. But what you don’t understand is that I broke my own as well. I wanted to be with you, I wanted to see you succeed. I wanted to be there when you made it big, don’t you get that? But that interview was just a preview of what our lives could look like if we stayed together. And I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t want to put myself in that position. Can you seriously hate me that much because I needed to put myself first?” You paused as you looked at him, waiting for him to say anything, anything at all.
But it was silent.
“Exactly what I thought.” You opened your car door, lowering yourself into the vehicle.
“I hope everything goes well for you Jack. And good luck with your new album.” And with that, you sped off into the night, tears in your eyes.
Please don't let nothing get back to me
I've been trying to detach from you
Deep down though, I wanna know about what the fuck you been up to
Old him could have seen that coming
Fuck you I don't need nothing from ya
I was doing pretty good without you
But something tells me that a relapse coming
-
145 notes · View notes
enchxanting · 1 year
Text
our love is god [ethan landry] pt. 6
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
read part 5 here || all parts
pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader
warnings: angst, discussion of suicide, obsessive compulsive behavior
a/n: this is sooooo lady macbeth coded. hope you enjoy!!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Diary,
I go to the bathroom at least twice a period.
When I'm there, I make sure I’m alone. Then I do two things. First, I stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t break eye contact until I’ve sufficiently recalled the memory of Tara’s limp body in my peripheral vision as Ethan pulled me out of her room.
After that, I wash my hands at least three times, but it’s usually closer to seven. 
I left Tara behind four days ago. My hands are raw. I don’t know what to do. 
I can’t wash this feeling away. 
Still, it’s better than sending my SAT scores to San Quentin. Thank god for Ethan, because I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. “Sorry, officer, I accidentally poisoned my best friend after our huge public disagreement?” 
Sure, yeah, that sounds believable. I looked up the prison time for manslaughter, assuming the judge believes it was an accident, and I don’t have eleven years to spare right now. 
Talk soon.
Y/N
I close my diary and return it to my backpack for safekeeping. 
Mindy is still writing on the pieces of looseleaf the school counselor, Dr. Stone, provided her with. It appears that most people don’t keep a diary past the third grade, but some TED talk said that journaling can help process big traumas, and the school has been on that shit ever since. Luckily, they don’t ask to read the entries.
The school took away my friends’ and my free periods and sent us to the counselor’s office after the news broke of Tara’s “suicide.” Anika and Chad have to go alone, but Mindy and I have always had free blocks together. 
This group therapy has got to be some sort of cosmic punishment for what I did. Now I have to watch one of her oldest friends mourn, as if I wasn’t the one who let her die.
Mindy clicks her pen and slides the papers across to Dr. Stone. He takes them without looking, inserting them neatly into a file stuffed with previous entries. 
“Thank you, girls. I know that the past week has been… difficult, to say the least. I want you to know that this is a safe space, and you can freely share any emotions that this tragic event has brought up.”
Poor Dr. Stone. I know that he’s really trying, but there aren’t any emotions I can bring up that wouldn’t be incriminating. Guilt? Disgust? Fear? I sneak a glance at Mindy, who’s staring out the window. She’s silent, too.
Dr. Stone sighs. “I understand that this is all very new. Maybe we’ll feel up to talking tomorrow.”
The bell rings, and Mindy gets up without saying a word. I mumble a half-hearted “thank you” before following her into the hall.
“Christ, that shit sucks,” she says. “I hate fucking journaling.”
We turn down the hallway towards the gym, where Chad’s taking part in some sort of football conditioning at lunch. We’ve developed a habit of skipping halfway through the day to sit in his car. 
Mindy drops her bag and sits against the wall by the gym door. “It’s just so unfair,” she says. “I still don’t understand.”
I sit down beside her. “Don’t understand what?”
She’s quiet for a second. “I read the note. Tara said there wasn’t anyone left who cared about her. And that’s bullshit. I cared, and Chad cared, and Anika cared, and Sam cared, and you cared.”
Her eyes are brimming with angry tears. “Part of me is so, so fucking mad at her. Like, how could she leave us behind, after we made it out together? We were starting to get somewhere. She had that thing with Chad going, even if both of them were too dumb to realize. You were pulling in steady cash, thanks to me, so we could actually afford to get out of here. We talked about college in New York or something, far away from Woodsboro. There were all these goddamn plans.
“But mostly I fucking miss her, man. It’s barely been a week and I’m so… incomplete. And no amount of school counseling or journaling or whatever inspirational quote my homeroom teacher wants to share with me is going to fill the void she left behind.”
Mindy wipes away her tears. For the first time since we left Dr. Stone’s office, she looks right at me. 
“I know you had your fight or whatever the night before, and if that were me I’d be torn up about it. But seriously, Y/N, you had nothing to do with it. After everything with… Amber, last year, she needed a friend. One that she wasn’t trauma-bonded with, like Chad and me. And you showed up at the right time. She loved you, man.”
My head is spinning. I’m wracked with all sorts of conflicting guilt, grief, anger, whatever, and I can’t tell anyone about it. 
So I get up and start walking towards the nearby locker room.
“Wait, Y/N, what are you doing?” Mindy calls. I don’t answer.
I can hear her get up and follow after me, but it’s been at least two hours since I’ve gone to the bathroom. At this point, I don’t care if someone watches my regimen– I need to be clean.
Turning into the locker room, I make a beeline for the sinks. I get close to the mirror, close enough to make out my pores. and stare down my reflection. After that harrowing edition of a trademark Mindy monologue, it doesn’t take long for me to recall Tara’s face. I wash my hands once, twice, three times, four times.
“Jesus, Y/N, seriously, what are you doing?” Mindy watches from behind, her voice still shaky from crying.
Five times, six times, seven times, and it’s still not enough. I’m breathing hard at this point, but I can’t get enough air. There’s blood everywhere, all over me, my clothes, even on Mindy. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the showers. Perfect. I rush over to the nearest stall and turn the handle. 
I don’t undress before stepping under the showerhead, letting the freezing water overtake me.
taglist: @miawastakens
79 notes · View notes
little-diable · 2 years
Text
Is a Home still a Home? - Spencer Reid (smut)
How I missed our boy. Please reblog if you've enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: Spencer comes home after his time at prison, but he doesn't feel like he's coming home, but rather visiting an unfamiliar place.
Warnings: 18+, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), a bit of angst, learning how to love one another again
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (1.8k words)
Tumblr media
It was late by the time the car came to a halt in front of the house. And even though his body called for Spencer to jump out of the car and to fall into her arms, he couldn’t move. It had been weeks since Spencer had last seen his girlfriend, weeks that have changed him more than all the years prior. 
Will she still love him, even after all this time apart? 
“Sir.” The driver cleared his throat, eyes meeting Spencer’s in the rear view mirror. “We’re here.”
His first instinct was to scream at the man, to give into his anger, of course he knew about his whereabouts, of course he knew that he was home. And yet he didn’t want to give into his heart's calling. 
“Sir.” The man spoke up again, silenced by the annoyed huff rumbling through Spencer. He ripped open the car door, and started walking – drowning out his mind’s protests. The familiar door welcomed him as if he hadn’t been away for weeks on end, hoping that he’d find his rest in the all too familiar surroundings. 
But what if he couldn’t? What if he couldn’t feel like he had once felt at home?
Spencer hesitated, maybe he should turn around and leave, maybe he should rest at somebody else's place. Just for tonight. But before he could give into the darkening thoughts, the sound of the lock being opened ripped him out of his confusion. 
“Spencer?” (Y/n)‘s voice wavered, eyes running up and down his frame as she opened the door wider. “Oh my, how I’ve missed you.”
She fell into his embrace before he could realise what was going on. Wrapped in her tight grasp, Spencer had no choice but to sink into (y/n)’s touch, a touch his body welcomed with a racing heart, but his mind protested against. A few tears left her glassy eyes, soaking through the fabric of his no longer clean shirt.
 And yet Spencer felt like he was hugging a stranger.
“Come, let’s go inside.” (Y/n) interlaced their fingers, she pulled her boyfriend inside, oblivious to his distanced behaviour. She watched him pull off his shoes, wanting to place them down on the spot where they’ve always been standing, a spot that was now taken by her own shoes. (Y/n) tried to reach for the pair, wanting to make space as a small “sorry” left her, but Spencer only shook his head, simply placing his next to hers.
Can a home still be a home, after all this time away? 
“I was just about to cook something for us, do you want to help me?” Spencer didn’t reply as he let his gaze wander, taking in their living room. Barely anything has changed, but Spencer felt like he had never been in this house before. Have those four walls really once been his home, his shelter and safe haven? 
“Are you okay?“ (Y/n) cupped his cheek, eyes boring into his to decipher the emotions flushing through Spencer’s system. But she didn’t understand what he was feeling, and couldn't see through the cloud of confusion he was stuck in. 
“I think I’m just tired.” A fake smile found its way onto his lips, a smile (y/n) instantly saw through. With a nod thrown his way, she turned from him, allowing Spencer to relax as she disappeared inside the kitchen, perhaps he simply needed a few moments on his own to make himself familiar with the house the two bought years ago. 
But no matter where Spencer turned to, he found himself focusing on things she has changed. Nothing big – just a new picture taking up some space, the new colour of their curtains and the sofa that has once been placed a few inches away from its new position. 
If he wouldn’t find something familiar soon, Spencer would run, fleeing from the melancholic emotion swapping through him like a tsunami wave, ripping him off his feet before he could cling to her. (Y/n). The woman Spencer has been dreaming about for nights on end, barely able to anticipate this very moment; and now, as he was finally living through said moment, he couldn’t help but push her away from him. 
“Do you want to drink something?” (Y/n) whispered the words, scared that he’d flick the switch and give into the emotions simmering inside of him, about to burn him from inside out. Only now did she seem to realise that Spencer had barely spoken a word, the voice that had once echoed through their house from mornings to late in the night, no longer reverberated through the rooms, replaced by a biting silence nibbling on their limbs.
Perhaps all he needed to do was touch her, to explore the body he had thought of when the nights have grown longer, forcing him to cower in the dark corner of his cell. Spencer didn’t reply as he found his way to the kitchen, eyes meeting hers, freezing the moment for a second or two. But while (y/n) patiently waited for his reply, Spencer found himself overthinking the next steps.
How do you touch someone you should love, but rather look upon as a stranger? 
His body pushed him closer, hands finding their way to her waist to pull her in for a kiss. A surprised gasp rumbled through (y/n), instantly giving in to bury her hands in his longer locks, tugging on the roots as if they’ve never parted ways – somehow falling into their old routine.
Their lips kept moving in sync, tasting one another for the first time in weeks. Spencer moved her towards the kitchen island, he didn’t break the kiss once as he heaved her onto the surface, settling between her thighs. (Y/n) felt him tighten his grip on her, almost too rough for her liking, though yet the moment had something so raw to it, she didn’t dare break it apart. 
Rough kisses guided him down her throat as his hands worked on her shirt, pulling it over her head to gain access to her chest. Her moans broke through her like thunder ripping the night apart, filling every part of his body. Spencer tried to drown out his thoughts, hoping to rely on his instincts, wanting to uncover every part of the body he hadn’t touched in way too long. 
But can a loving touch be truly loving, even if the mind can’t focus on the love one should feel?
“Fuck, Spencer, I need more, please.” He barely spared her words a thought, with his eyes closed he kissed his way down south, only breaking apart to push her sweatpants down her legs, panties following a moment later. The floor was littered with her clothes, and yet Spencer was still fully dressed, not yet ready to pull his clothes off his frame.
He buried his face in her cunt, lapping at her arousal covered folds like a starving man. And yet he couldn’t help but overthink his movements, feeling rather unfamiliar like his surroundings.
Hisses, moans and curses bubbled out of (y/n) as he added two of his digits, disappearing inside of her without another warning. Pleasure kept thumping through her veins, a pleasure that slowly but surely also began to fill Spencer’s system, urging him on to push her closer to the edge.
Both could tell that she’d cum any moment now, no longer used to the rough brushes of his tongue, no longer used to feel his fingers fucking her. And yet (y/n) never wanted to feel anything other than this, this indescribable feeling she had been dreaming of for nights on end. 
Spencer’s eyes met hers as he watched her fall apart, moaning his name like a mantra etched into her mind. Her walls had a vice grip on his fingers, begging him to keep fucking her through her high, not wanting to let go of the moment just yet. But Spencer had other plans, he pulled away only to free his hard cock, the red tip was bearded in drops of precum, wanting to feel her wrapped around him.
“Fuck me, please, it’s been so long.” Almost like a cry rumbling through her, (y/n) murmured her words, still hung up on the first high of the night. Spencer brushed his cock through her slit, covering his cock in her arousal before he pushed into her. 
He moved slowly at first, eyes fluttering close to hold onto the pleasure that rang in his ears like the blood flushing through his veins. The first moan of the night clawed through him, raspier than she had anticipated and yet the sound shot shudders down her spine, forcing her even closer to him.
“I dreamt of this, fucked my hand to my memories of you.” His confession left her moaning, (y/n) clawed her fingernails into his shoulders, ripping open his shirt to feel all of him. Spencer fucked her into the cold surface of the kitchen island, bodies clashing together with every ferocious thrust. He buried in cock deep inside of her, desperate to feel her as close as possible.
But can a close touch mend a broken heart that no longer felt at home?  
“I love you, Spencer, so much.” (Y/n) pulled him in for a kiss as if she knew that he was struggling with voicing out those loving three words he had once spoken oh so effortlessly. And yet she knew that he loved her more than anything, trusting in the years that have shaped them as a couple.
Bound together like lovers that were facing the depths of the darkness, they relied on one another's touch, being pushed closer to the peak with every thrust. And with their hearts roaring in pleasure, they let go in unison, calling one another's name with barely any strength lingering in their bones. 
Neither Spencer nor (y/n) dared to move, searching for the right words that could pull them back into the routine they’ve once cherished. A routine that had been broken the second he had been put behind bars. 
Is a home still a home, even if it's just four walls and two beating hearts that have yet to learn how to love one another again? 
Tumblr media
Please like and reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this, come talk to me about my writing, let’s spill some tea or thirst over our favorite people. xxx
Use this link to join the taglist
375 notes · View notes
notecapn · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
Heizou from the arranged marriage au - again, by @throwingstuffhere, very inspiring, thank you
Ayato here for emotional support (and as a point of reference)
some thoughts on that under the cut (and close ups of the coloured Heizous)
i talked previously about this a bit, so there are going to be things i've said previously and a couple of new thoughts. but mostly just rambling
the design choices were made as if Heizou was an in-game character who frequently fights but still needs to look presentable
i’m still on the hakama pants for Heizou, and if not that, he’d probably ask to make the trousers loose (like slacks maybe), with all the splits Heizou can do they’d tear otherwise, unless the material is more flexible than how it looks on Ayato. but quite frankly they look just like normal ones, if a bit more expensive
i am, in fact, speaking from personal experience, dress trousers are very likely to tear if you try kicking something high above your waist level - especially if it's more than once, and i don’t imagine Heizou is very careful about this, and i think he’s used to more freedom in his leg work, or any body part actually, he has a lot of skin showing
as for everything else: it's pending, really.
the vision could be both on his right hip - just like Ayato, or his left one - sort of like it used to be, and mirroring Ayato and also kind of completing the Kamisato's vision placements: Ayato and Thoma on the right hip, Ayaka on her back and Heizou on his left. i also could be reading too much into things (or i'm actually not reading into this enough and it's very important for the characters where they place their visions: like how important their vision is to them, or there's symbolism of the placement, or it's just pure aesthetics)
i had half a mind to put Heizou in a pair of dancing shoes. they look so funky - i have no idea if they are comfortable or not and they look like they could slip off at any moment. for the record i am not planning on putting him in a pair of funky dancing shoes (for now)
tbh i didn't think too much about his footwear previously, i just thought to put him in some dress shoes like Ayato, even if those are not particularly comfortable - but it would be more painful if he delivers some sick kicks: physics of pressure, with the area being smaller and the force staying the same and all that
he could also go with geta (or sandals?) like Ayaka - which would also make sense. Ayato's job requires him to sit a lot so naturally he doesn't walk too much for the shoes to cause him any trouble, but if we're going with the assumption that Heizou tends to work best on foot (old habits die hard, you see), then he'd be miserable if he wore the shoes all the time. counterpoint, however, is that i don't want to draw toes, and i am a coward
also the coloured designs are what i'd consider his formal outfit: as far as my research goes, yukatas (which Heizou usually wears in the au from what i can tell) tend to be worn for less formal events, and it's at the very least not customary to wear yukatas under hakama pants, so..
also also it has been a while since i’ve properly worked with colour so i am extremely unsure how I want this to look, that is why there are two sets of colours of each design. and i don't even think i'm satisfied with that? and obviously the outfit can be a combination of the two styles, i just threw things at the wall to see what sticks
the first version is based on the one i've made previously, with some minor changes, like the Anemo inspired print on the pants and on the inside of the cloak (i don't know if it is noticable, there are sakura petals as well), and the arm guards (also yes, the red does not look very good on him, i just wanted to add something different, spice things up a little). and yes, i still imagine Heizou magically discarding the cloak when he attacks
Tumblr media
(edit) additionally, Heizou with more blue in his palette:
Tumblr media
the second one is very heavily leaning on Ayato's design, with less layers, loose trousers and a western shirt underneath. this one was done mostly to test out the coat and the trousers
Tumblr media
and lastly: i'm not a historian or a fashion designer or a historian fashion expert. i have no idea what i'm doing other than looking at all the pictures available on the internet and drawing inspiration from that
and @raccoonwithacoffeeproblem, if you wish to see it
21 notes · View notes