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millerscoffee · 8 months

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heat lightning

6.5k | sub!joel miller x f!reader

gif credit: @jdmorganz

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: NO OUTBREAK. established relationship, no age gap – up to you for joel's age but he has creaky knees so..., sub!joel, bratty!joel??, mommy kink, rope kink, dom/sub dirty talk, joel whimperin' n whinin', gagging, choking, slapping, spitting, edging (m receiving), oral (f receiving - face riding), piv (unprotected), praise kink (good boy, etc.), pet names (pet, baby boy, honey, etc.), a touch of humiliation/degradation kink (spoiler: a moment of cock shaming – every body is a lovely body!), size kink (he still got that thang tho), we walk by breeding ave., sickly sweet aftercare, lingerie. dude if i missed it - it's probably in here! no use of y/n

A/N: thank u to the sweet anon (u know who u are) who requested this almost a month ago. i hope it was worth the wait! love youuuuu!!! ♡

Joel liked having his way. Shocking.

This concept drew you to him, not only because you enjoyed being told what to do (every now and then), but even more that you wanted to challenge why he needed things to be his way in the first place.

You’ve been with Joel long enough now to know the mix of events that made him who he was. Nights and days where he felt insecure for exposing all there was to him, but he was willing to fish it out of him to you.

Only to you.

Tonight wasn’t unlike a handful of nights the two of you shared since being together and unraveling Joel’s vulnerability. It was beautiful, and in moments of softness, it was easy to reflect on how far he’d come. But, right now? You’re a little preoccupied.

---

It started earlier tonight. Joel refused to wear contacts for the fourth time in a week, and forgot his glasses just as much.

And guess who had to remind him? You! Of course! Every. Single. Time.

To wear his glasses, or put his contacts in. But the week was busy at work – Tommy gone off again. Or at least, this was his excuse. More and more excuses poured throughout the week until it was a mere grunt at your suggestion.

Your knuckles blanching until you just gave up entirely. “Ah, fuck,” you hear from the kitchen, the view of Joel rubbing his eyes not long after the sound.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel,” words are sharp and you clench your teeth. It catches Joel off guard at first, his head shooting up to meet your cold stare. And before he can make an attempt to straighten you out, you stand up – rushing to the kitchen. “I tell you this at least twice a fucking week. ‘Joel, wear your glasses. Joel, have you put your contacts in today?’ you know why your eyes hurt so fucking much? Because you don’t listen to me, and I’m sick of it.”

“You know it’s been a rough week,” Joel’s tyrannical now, his jaw setting – ticking forward.

“Oh, I’m sorry – did I give you permission to speak?” you raise an eyebrow waiting for a reaction, but instead you witness the shift of his hips and the drop of his gaze.

He feels the energetic shift as much as you do, and seems into it. The hitch in his breath gave him away.

“No, ma’am.”

“Bedroom. Now. Swear to god, if you make me repeat myself.”

So he goes and you follow. And you bring a dining chair with you.

Placing it down, you go to the closet to grab some clothes before turning your heel to face a man whose cock shouldn’t be so fucking hard from getting your last nerve.

“I’m going to change, and you are going to sit on this chair. Naked. Do I need to repeat myself?”

Joel beseeches you silently with his dark stare and a steadfast shake of his head, “No, ma’am.”

You don’t respond because you don’t have to and usher yourself to the bathroom – door shuts behind you and you slip into something more dominating.

---

“Darlin’, it’s a little tight,” Joel rattles now, his strength to hold back waning. The rope that curled around the strong arches of his wrists tug harshly as it found tautness from behind the chair.

His wrists and ankles tied with knots that Joel taught you how to tie long ago.

The chair at the foot of the bed.

Feet planted firmly on the ground, you peer over him, changed into laced lingerie with leather accents. Red. Cinched at the waist, your tits bloom out from the cups — daring to spill but never do. You feel sexy, and you feel in control. And fuck, you look so good. Joel knows it, the way he sops you up just by his eyes.

He’s shorter than you like this, but his body still takes up so much space, and it’s intoxicating to observe Joel in such a submissive position in his sturdy frame.

“Is Darlin’ my name?” voice flat, you prop yourself up on the edge of the chair – tilting your head to scan over his body. You take your time with each part of him. Because his wrists are tied, yes, but you look down at the rest of him, completely stripped for you. His hips jolt involuntarily, pathetically really, all from your words and you really watch between his legs. The head of his cock pulsing with blush, weeping against his stomach and thigh as it arches. And he twitches at your gaze.

“Oh, he likes that,” you remark condescendingly, and on any other day you’d be eager to wrap your lips around him. To suck him until his toes curled and your name slipped through the air from his rough, but blissed out voice. But tonight was about taking the lead, teaching a lesson. Taking him how you wanted because you could. And maybe because you loved him and wanted him to experience – to just experience without the expectation of being in command.

“Now, tell me,” you start, teasing the tops of your fingernails grazing the length of his thigh slowly – humming in approval, his body shuddering, his grunts fill the air, “what’s my name, Joel?”

“M-mommy,” the word scorches his cheeks, causing him to bite into his bottom lip and his eyes squeeze shut, precum beading to the tip. His head hangs in unbearable arousal, chin lifting to catch your eyes. The soft brown of his eyes, full of desire and willingness to do anything for you. Anything… except doing what he’s told when he’s stubborn. Your core aches when you squeeze your thighs together for relief, but you don’t falter.

“Mommy!” a fake gasp, you lean over to pat him on the cheek before smacking the skin ten percent harder, “That’s right! Good boy!”

And that wrecks him, sends his hips flying off the seat as much as he can, but you’re quick to shove them down. “Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, Mommy’s not done with you yet,” your fingers curl under his chin, coaxing him to look at you.

“How can you make me feel good, pet? Let’s use our words,” you lean down enough for him to see your tits pushed together like this and the look on his face– god, you’d bottle it. His brows wilted upwards, lips parting, and they’re so wet, so inviting, you want to kiss them for hours. The right toy for you to use in pursuit of getting yourself off.

“I—I c’n use my mouth. I wanna. Wanna be good t’ya, mama,” and he’s almost begging. He’s so close, you can tell he’s trying. It’s just that, he’s distracted– wants to devour you whole without having to ask, not like this. He’s still not used to saying the things you so easily offer him on any other day.

“You wanna be good to me,” you repeat mockingly, tongue darting to one side of your cheek, “That’s too bad. We’re not doing that yet, you still need to learn your lesson. Gotta make sure you know who’s in charge, don’t we, darlin’?”

You don’t let him answer before you sit back at the edge of the bed, your legs spread as they relax against the mattress. You watch Joel, how his head won’t look at you directly – not even if he wants to. He feels too shy, too ashamed for not listening to you, and honestly you’re sick of it because you look fucking hot.

So you clap your hand at his chin lightly, “Miller. Right here.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and those deep eyes take their precious time to rake their gaze over you.

“Is that how you act when a gorgeous lady’s in front of you?”

Joel lifts his brows first, then his eyes, “No, baby– I’m sorr–”

“Not my name.”

You see Joel’s mandible flutter again in frustration now because yes, you’re grinding his gears, but the vulnerability makes him uncomfortable, and he grits out, “No, mommy. I’m. Sorry.”

“You’re on thin fucking ice Joel,” your arms cross over your chest, leaning forward to make eye contact, and though it makes your tits raise, your body language says it all: last chance.

That seems to make him reroute his stubbornnesses because he’s back to open expressions and spread thighs – thick as his cock that weeps pitifully against his abdomen and thigh.

“Yes, ma’am.”

If you were to admit it to yourself, you’re distracted. His cock looks so good, throbbing like that – bobbing with each twitch as his balls tighten along with it and he’s so perfectly thick your mouth waters, but it is not about making his ego feel good tonight. Not yet, anyway. He must understand this behaviour is unacceptable. Just when you think about caving, you’re reminded of how fucking obstinate he’s been and you get annoyed – dominant, all over again.

“Here’s how tonight's gonna go. I’m gonna touch myself, use your mouth, and if you’re good, I’ll ride your pathetic excuse of a cock. Sound good?” you flash a sardonic grin cutting him off when his mouth opens, “Good! Now shut the fuck up.”

It shouldn’t make him hard and it shouldn’t make slick gather between your legs, but of course it does because you’re both insatiable when it comes to each other. Fueling a fire that can’t be tamed anyway, you unfurl in front of him – one palm against the lush duvet while the other trails in front of you, through the lace of your panties. You squeeze your thighs together again, spreading your mess and there’s a wicked grin on your face because you know he knows just how it feels to have those thighs squeezing around his head. To make that messy pussy of yours glide over his features. And the damp fabric emits subtle sloshes from just how turned on you are by this. You love the opportunity to have the upperhand.

Joel, he looks rabid, eyes unable to move from your core while the sweetest sounds fall out of your mouth. Like a hypnotising trick from the circling of your clothed folds – a magician’s secret. His stare is so animalistic you almost want to egg him on like a dog: this what you want, boy? But you’ve got him right where you want him, and you don’t want to take him anywhere else.

“It feels good, Joel,” you confirm with no pornographic moans. Rather a solid melody to your tone. Grounded in your power. You want Joel to know you can make yourself feel good without him, despite it being very much because of him. “Better than you can make me feel.”

And Joel can’t take it anymore – he can’t stand it when you lie to him. He’s seen you with him. How you blossom under his touch until your thighs are shaking all on their own. Seen drool spill from the corners of your mouth as you take and take and take from him, slurred praises floating from your needy throat.

“That ain’t fuckin’ true,” he growls like a caged animal, hips squirming into the chair, and you stop pleasing yourself – wrist frozen as the pressure on your clit becomes lighter, eyes narrow.

“Did I let you fucking speak?” Question rhetorical, you slip your scanty panties off and wad them up before prying his mouth open and shoving them, crotch-side first, inside to mute any more rebukes. The taste of your sex coats his tongue and his moans are muffled, eyes roll back for a fleeting moment – as if he forgot what he was even saying to begin with. His wrists slightly turning colour from the resistance against the rope. Hog heaven, you can hear the southern phrase drawl from his lips without the words.

“And what? You think you can make me feel better than I can? You really think that?” Joel finally smartens up when he realises you’re naked from the waist down and can see the slick against the seams of your thighs while your legs are apart – how turned on you are by keeping him on a line, and god the air is thick. His eyelids droop to the sound of your voice, the scent and taste of you overcoming him as a piteous nod is given to you. Poor baby.

It should irk you, the fact that he believes he knows your body better than you do, but it rakes the coals instead. It’s in that he’s so eager to show you how he can get you there – makes you curious, your pussy tingles in anticipation, pulse rises.

“If I let you go, are you going to be compliant? Because if you think you’re in control, you’re wrong and I need to know you’ll be a good boy for me. Will you be a good boy for mommy if I tell you what to do?”

The strained pleas from the fabric and emphatic nods give you reason to follow through with your promise. And he looks like he means it, like you’ve worn him down to submit to you fully without restraint. You can tell he’s in pain from how hard he is. Like he’s being edged without even touching him. His hands must be numb, his body could tremble at the slightest touch.

It’s enough for you to waltz behind him. You loosen the rope, ghosting your hands over the other typically warm set and despite them being tingly – he can still feel you. His breath hitches, the slopes of his shoulders are so gorgeous from behind. The muscles of his back taut as they flex, their silent entreat for relief. “It’s okay,” you whisper, now that you can’t see him, you feel more inclined to be forgiving.

The arousal is a constant build between the two of you. When you let his wrists loose, he doesn’t move. Just rolls his knuckles into fists, bringing blood and oxygen back to the extremities. He’s good on his word, and makes that known when you untie his ankles. He’s giving it up to you – totally conceding, and moreover adores this side of you. He knows he’s the only one you could ever be this assertive with because the relationship you have creates room for it. Both of you feel safe. His teeth tighten around your panties when you come back around to him, and you cup your small hand, comparatively, to the side of Joel’s neck.

“You good little thing. Got mama so proud,” pushing his curls back, you pull the spit-soaked garment from between his teeth and he’s beaming, nudging his cheek against your touch hungrily. “Go lie on the bed, honey.”

His joints creak from age when he does, having sat there for what felt like an eternity but he does exactly as you say: nothing more, nothing less. Hums softly to himself at the feeling of being able to lie flat on his back because it feels so good, and in the brief moment it’s there without a role – your adoration for him, the gentle quirks that make him so delectable. He deserves to sit back like this, to let his brain just take rather than supply.

However impatient he may be in the process of submission.

“You are doing so well, Joel. I know you have a pristine mouth too, don’t you? Are you gonna show me your tongue?” Getting onto the bed, you walk on your knees as this newly obedient Joel sticks out his tongue flat for you to float over. Your throat dries at that, how perfect he can be for you like this. A smirk comes over your features, “Much better with your tongue out than running it all the time,” and you swear you see Joel’s teeth creep up in a similar smile, but you’re busy straddling his waist with your ass facing his chest to notice.

His strong nose bumps against your clit when you bracket his head. Sipping the air abrasively, your body seizes at the sensation. Clearly more sensitive than your confident words let on, but that’s just the thing – you are confident and extremely horny and you can admit it. So you give in, purring deliciously when you lower over his mouth until you’re sitting completely on his face.

“Love using this mouth for my cunt,” fingers tangle through the strands of his hair and you use it to roll your hips frantically, yet methodically, against the heat of his wet mouth. His tongue hits your folds succinctly, on purpose, and even though you haven’t allowed him to touch you, his movements are so precise it’s as if he’s rolling your hips for you.

“Fuck, you’re swimming in it now,” you groan, neck thrown back before leaning your neck over to the side to watch his eyes flutter shut – the slight shake of his achy jaw, the sweat at the top of his hairline. He’s putting in the work to take it, even when he feels like giving up.

The squelching of your juices has you in your own trance, and though you would wait for his cock to give into the prickling at the pit of your belly, you decide to go give in to what you want in the moment – to orgasm right here, right now. All over Joel’s face.

Pulling the top of your pubic bone, your clit exposes to the plush of lips beneath you. “Suck.” The instruction is simple compared to the stir of fireworks that he sets off inside you. Because he does what you say, and how you say it, instantly. Joel’s eyes roll back alongside his muffled, but satisfied moans that vibrate against the bundle of nerves he’s taking his time to satisfy. Wet suction sounds fill the room when the air breaks off, his tongue swirling right underneath the hood of you and you break out in a sweat from how impossibly good he is at this.

“Y-you’re so good for mommy,” you sound wrecked, Joel looks up at you when he catches just how gone you are. Loving to see you take what you want from him, using his mouth to pleasure yourself. You rock deeply, your hands knead over your lace-covered tits and when you look down at him again, he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Eating you like he worships you, and you’re certain he does.

But using him meant not warning him when you were close.

So it comes as no surprise, the influx of low, masculine, ached groans from beneath you when your body responds to its pleasure. Your fingernails dig into your fists as you shudder and moan above him, the lightning rising from your core to your limbs in a matter of seconds – and in waves. You lean forward, catching yourself at the headboard and let out a slight chuckle at the comedown. The two of you surfacing in between this power dynamic. “Shit.”

That’s short lived under your ruling, however, and you slide off of him – getting your bearings. Joel stays still, his mouth vivid pink to match his cheeks, beard and lips sheened with your slick. The look in his eye shows his constraint, his need for something and when you pluck your gaze down his body. His beautiful cock straining against his abdomen, a pool of precum greets you.

“This?” You raise both eyebrows, pointing between his legs, “This needs touchin’?”

“Please,” fuck, he sounds ruined – consumed with lust and need for anything you can give him. He’s really begging now, not the bullshit he tried to deliver you in the beginning.

“Okay, baby,” you coo, “You’re so good for me, gonna make you feel so good.” When you finally, finally acknowledge his cock, his abdomen jolts though you barely touch his sides. You laugh through your nose briefly, “That bad, darlin’?” His head sways ‘yes’ against the pillow before saying it, and you waste no more time in your pursuit to obliterate him now.

So you straddle him. Right at his waist, angling above where his twitching cock lies. You can feel the heat radiate off the both of you. Your core pulsing from your orgasm, wet from slick and spit. You have some wits about you now that you came, and it aids you in authorising the next step – the step that has every nerve at the edge of its seat for Joel.

Joel’s body. The taut skin, the hair down his arms and across the landscape of his chest down his middle. Your own body fills with anticipation when you anchor your hips further down until your folds are greeted by the underside of his length and it’s unhurried when you both shudder in response.

“Sh-shit, shit, darlin’–mama,” he inhales sharply, those words transitioning to whimpers when you glide your hips over his cock back and forth with intention – applying more pressure with each pass.

“Yeah, you like that?”

Joel’s tongue skates over his bottom lip as he nods frantically, and you still yourself.

“Nuh uh. Words, tell me. Need to hear you say it, Joel.”

“F-feels so good, honey. Feels like my kinda paradise.”

Or at least that’s what you are pretty sure you hear. It’s rushed from his feverish breaths, but he’s doing his best. Wants to make an impression that he is committed to giving in. It’s when his eyes slip shut do you lean your body over him, tilting his chin, you wrap one hand around his throat though it doesn’t quite reach around to completion.

“You beautiful man. Keep your eyes on me, yeah?”

Joel blinks them open to see your hooded eyes above him, unable to hide just how in awe he is.

“Y’look gorgeous, mama,” and shit– you feel your cunt clench around the absence of him at that. At how candid and altruistic his words are in the moment.

“You’re one to talk,” you run the tops of your fingers against his beard, hips languid. “Stay right here. My good boy. M’gonna take this big fucking cock. That’s right, isn’t it? Make you know for certain who it belongs to.”

And he loves hearing you talk about him like this. Looks so serene as you sit upright, peeling the rest of your layers off until you’re both naked and he looks like he desperately wants to touch you, but you give him a stern look – not yet. Not until I take you myself.

Reaching behind, you press the head of his cock at your entrance and hiss at the instant stretch. Not working yourself up with his fingers shows when you envelop him like this, and you can feel him digging his heels into the bed from just how you feel around the head of him.

“M-Mommy!”

The sound of him whining is symphonic to your ears.

“Shhhh, you can take it.” The role reversal makes you shiver, your wet sex moving down a little more before you pull up, popping off of him completely and his hips stammer trying to follow you, but he soon realises the edge you’re bringing him to.

He’s greeted with your sinister smile.

“What, honey?” You lean over him, forcing his chin up, you deliver a slap to his cheek before sliding down his cock again – working him up and down, then off again.

His bottom lip trembles and puffs. He’s losing his cool, hands ghosting your hips because he knows better than to touch you like this. Not when he’s so close to getting what he wants. The heat, the fucking heat from them – you shake.

“P-p, mama, mmngh,” his whimpers put you in a daze. How he feels so good he can’t even form a proper sentence. Your free hand claws at his chest while the other at your front edges him – rocking against the underside of him again. Minutes feel like hours when you rile him up like this, and you know you look a mess too. Fucked out, nipples peaked and you catch his gaze on them – his hunger for you extends through the room leaving heat on your skin as it radiates, the energy bouncing off from this tantric experience. The eye contact is insane: Joel’s pupils dilated, eager against the constant spasm of his cock against your messy folds.

All humidity, sweat, and sex make their presence irrevocably known.

You’re slipping.

But you muster one last discipline, leaning down so your tits graze against his chest. You brush your nose against his, insisting his precum spreads against your entrance. He grunts, teeth together, hips grinding as best as he can without breeding you into your submission. And fuck, you’d almost allow it.

Almost.

“Should’ve worn your fucking glasses.” You whisper against his lips, your clit brushing against the coarse hairs of his lower abdomen, and it’s exactly then does he spill over his breaking point.

“I’ll wear them, I’ll wear them!” And, fuck, Joel sounds pained – he sounds sorry, and he sounds desperate. “Please! Please just let me come, mama. I wanna paint ya up so good, honey. P-please, mama! I’ll get fuckin’ lasik – please, just lemme in that perfect pussy!”

That’s the green light.

Placing him back inside, your hips grind on him shallowly. Both hands tighten around his throat, albeit a bit looser than the one fist he’d have around your neck – but it seems to do the trick and you buzz in satisfaction before a choked moan fills your lungs: the sound he’s been craving. Your body giving in, doing what it does. It’s nature, after all, giving into these feelings. “Fucking take this cunt. Fill mommy up, yeah? You wanna make me a real mama, baby? C’mon, let go for me. You can let go, you can move.”

It’s a lightswitch. It’s flipping a breaker, giving Joel such permission.

You yelp when he tosses you off of him. Onto your back, he’s on his knees within a blink – gripping your thighs, he pries you apart before his cock spears inside you with little remorse, and “Oh-my god – your cock!” you scream. It’s exactly what you need now. You nod through knitted brows, praises fill the space between you. You take his chin between your thumb and pointer, one arm around his shoulders you pry his lips apart to transfer spit right inside his mouth. Your tongue glides over his and he drinks straight from the source. You can feel his Adam's apple wobble as it swallows what you’re giving him underneath the pad of your thumb. “That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you mutter sloppily from the rutting of his deviant hips.

Gravity’s against you when you spit in his mouth again, getting some of it on your chin and nose, but fuck, you don’t care. You want it filthy like this with your head half off the bed, his fingers plucking your nipples as it ripples pleasure down your center. “I’m doin’ okay, mama? This whatcha need?” This sly fucker. “S-s’perfect!” The requirement of reassurance fastens you in the leadership role you assumed in the beginning, and you’re so fucking thrilled Joel’s your partner. How he can deliver you mindblowing thrusts, yet still look at you through his lashes like he’s the softest motherfucker on the planet. A gleam of pride in his eyes and at the corner of his lips when he hears your juices be tapped in a fast tempo by his heavy balls. Like giving you pleasure is the pearl he longs to hold for dear life itself in his capable hands.

Of course, he circles your clit for good measure. Of course he would. Little shit. It works like a charm.

He knows your body, said it himself. How it operates, how to take you there. And you’re panting, hips lift to be greeted by his thrusts all the way to the base of your stomach – achieving the spongy spot only Joel can reach.

You feel it happen like a coiling, a buildup of thin air and then all at once: immense pleasure. It snaps, your body convulsing around his cock, core fluttering as your moans get higher, and you think he’d slow down, but it makes him work harder. You try to keep your eyes on him, but it’s just no use, he’s too good at his job. “F-fuckin’, mmngh,” you can’t get out much else, but you’re soaking his cock – what else could possibly be said? Your tits bounce to his thrusts and you can tell this is it for him. He’s been so proficient at keeping it together all this time. Your eyes pop open then, lips wet, you tug for him to come closer. You don’t fucking care that his sweat sticks to your shoulder when he buries his forehead against your neck.

Joel keeps his whimpers close to your ear. His moans of your name, his passion for this feeling – all of it, right against you. Like a secret, like a prayer and you’re the divine goddess in every moment of reverence.

“Can’t last,” he drawls, a coherent sentence flows through him for a moment and you nod, mouth brushing against the red of his neck. “Give it to me, Joel.” Lips dance at his pulsepoint as the contact bounces from his thrusts, and you can hear his heart thud from outside his body. It floods you, the sawing of his cock inside, the swelling sensation against your walls. Tugging his hair, you pull him back just enough to see his faded eyes, “Give me every drop, baby boy. Come for mommy.”

His lips attempt to make contact with yours, but really all he can do is breathe heavily into your mouth and it’s dizzying, being each other’s oxygen. “S-s… so p-perf–,” he tries, he really tries in making the words connect, but even his core feels shaky from his forearms on either side of your head. You snake your hands around his throat once more, and that’s fucking it.

Joel’s sounds are a mix of the low grunts you know, tailending with particular whimpers that leave you moaning back to him like a call to each other. Holy fuck, you’ve never heard him make that sound before. And he’s good on his promise – coating your inside sticky with his substance, your own vibrational tone is low in your throat as you hum in approval. Until he rides it out. Until his pleasure turns sensitive and his hips come to an end.

“Oh, baby,” you praise, delicate hands leaving his throat, you pet his back – warm and masculine and rippled with muscles that he attained from his work. He’s out of breath, and you both laugh at it, pressing tender kisses to his nose and lips.

“Might fuckin’ die at this rate.”

“Well, at least we had a good run.”

It feels empty when Joel pulls out of you, his lanky body shakes the bed when he gracefully thwacks onto the mattress beside you.

“Mmmng.”

A flawless response. Mmmng, indeed.

You stretch your arms overhead, facilitating a yawn in the process.

And you don’t ignore the way it feels to have his cum spill out of you. Hot and sticky and where it’s meant to be.

“Stay there,” you whisper, rolling onto your side, “You did so good. I’m so proud of you, baby.” You even speak differently now – tender and light, peppering kisses all over his tired face in satisfaction. Slipping up to your feet, you go to the adjoined bathroom and run the bath. Putting a couple of drops of your favourite essential oil to make the sensual experience last in the afterglow. You peek your head out from the bathroom door when it’s ready and give him a gentle look of compassion. “It’s ready.”

Joel grunts when he propels all of his upper body strength to sit up in one go. You can’t get enough of him. The way he looks – sleepy and fucked, arms thick and shoulders broad. You have both earned this bath, even if it’s crowded. He sinks in, and you get in front of him, and honestly you both close your eyes for a long while. Exhausted, used. He wraps his arms around the front of your shoulders, and it’s regulatory to your nervous system.

“I really am sorry,” he finally gruffs, wide palms cater to your shoulders as you melt and sink into the bathwater with him. “This week’s been… it don’t matter. You tell me ‘bout my eyes all the time, and I never listen. I will, I promise. I didn’t mean t’make your life harder.”

You frown at the last bit, turning in the water so your chest is against his. Drops spill out the tub when you do.

“You never make my life harder, Joel.”

“Seems like it,” and you can tell he’s not saying it to play the victim. He’s vulnerable and feels safe enough to share this shame with you. “Seems like I end up fuckin’ somethin’ up.”

No. You won’t be having any of that.

Taking his cheeks between your hands, you shake your head in tandem with your words. “Not even close, do you understand?” Sternly, you keep his eyes poured into yours. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean it. You make everyday brighter. Even when you’re a royal pain in my ass.”

You both join in with laughter before you rest your warmed cheek to the hairs on his chest. “I swear.”

Joel’s throat vibrates to the tune of your last words, and fingers comb through your hair, leaving you both to flutter your eyes shut in the all-too-small bathtub.

“Okay, I believe you. But only ‘cuz I’m a pain in your ass.”

You take in his warmth, so much as sniffing at his words, and it feels good to be connected like this after those moments of taking matters into your own hands. It feels good for both of you to be unarmed to each other without consequence.

When it's time for you to get out, you dry off before holding out a towel to wrap around him and you lean up, pressing your lips to his – both naked and comfortable. Basking in the aftermath – the scene you two created in the bedroom you transition into. Your eyes scan over the bed: the unkept version of sheets, pillows haphazardly thrown together and you individually slip your clothes on. It feels nice to have a soft fabric cloak over your skin, his t-shirt fitting easily from the worn material. Joel takes your hand in one of his, the dining chair in the other. You look back at the room before flipping the light off. At least for a moment, you’re both pretty tired and will work around the mess soon.

Then there's the kitchen. Where it started. But you don’t feel the same aggravation creep up as it did before. Instead, Joel wraps his arms protectively around you when you rise to your tiptoes to grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard. It feels like slipping into a warm pool, and you never want to leave. He is more enchanting than the tub could ever be.

“Hot liquid for my man?”

“Y’could just say tea, I ain’t gonna gag, you know?”

You snicker, turning the kettle on and closing your eyes as his chin tucks at the crease of your neck, not so sure he means it. Coffee? Yes. A blend of chamomile and lavender? You weren’t so sure. But he doesn't turn his nose up when you press the teabag to him, so you sneak a kiss and you plop one bag in each cup.

“I dunno, you might gag,” a knowing smirk grows at the side of your cheek that Joel’s at and you mercifully knock temples, as if your brain waves could send each other the memories you have from tonight. Everything primal and raw, all for the both of you.

“No more gaggin’ tonight,” there’s a laugh in Joel’s words and you scratch his beard idly as you pour your hot drinks when it’s time. “That’s alright, baby boy. Mama can handle a little bit of gagging if it means you’re taking.”

“You better watch it,” smile behind his voice, his nose nudges the edge of your jaw and a shudder draws out a small purr from deep in your chest – especially because you know there’s not an ounce of a menacing tone behind the threat.

“I’m not doing anything,” the grin transfers to your face and you turn to face him, arms wrapping around his shoulders because you can and he pulls you up until your feet leave the ground. It’s a stretch that feels good, your heart’s content.

“Yeah, you’re just so good. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be bad unlike us common folk.”

And that makes your cheeks rush with blood because you know it’s only a matter of time before the tables turn. Before you’re caught doing something Joel has told you thousands of times to do or don’t, and he has you in some precarious position to drive you back to the version of your best self.

Still, it’s funny, and you nose against the column of his neck – all sweat still mixed with the bathwater and something so innately, masculinely, Joel Miller. “Not too good, just clever. I get away with a lot more than you think, old man.”

“Easy.” His tone shifts all too easily into a warning, his hips pinning you to the edge of the countertop. Your eyes widen before you press your index finger to his lips, shushing him.

“Relax,” you pet his shoulders, before leaning up to kiss his eyelids, “I like that you’re an old, senile man I can swindle.”

“Goddamn, you’re at record time in attempting to prove just how misbehaved y’really are.”

Finishing the tea, you hand his mug off with a nonchalant shrug.

“I learn from the best, I guess.”

You wait a beat.

“So… lasik, huh?”

Joel practically chokes on his beverage. “Uhhh…,”

“Great! I’ll book the appointment tomorrow!”

You won’t (probably), but the look on his face is priceless.

“Yeah, yeah.” That makes Joel smile eventually, his rough hand cupping the side of your face before planting a dichotomously tender kiss to your forehead, and you are steadfast to reciprocate the affection.

The only thing that matters, anyway.

No matter all the hardships, the restless nights. It’s this. It’s delivering Joel to his knees as he worships you, then securing him with a warm cup of liquids in the form of tea, bath, the undulating nature of your arms in their energetic vibrations when they find his frame.

You would take care of him. You would catch him.

Like how rivers bend and rush to oceans:

Everything leads back to him.

taglist: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @scarletthefierce @pedritoferg - comment to be added, and please let me know if i missed you!

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lukesaprince · 16 days

Text

Rich Part 21 Sneaky 👀

“You just take it so fucking well, don’t you sweetheart? Always squeeze around my cock so tight.” Harry uttered through gritted teeth, fingers achingly squeezed into your cheeks while his eyes remained glued to where you two were connected.

Harry always loved fucking you from behind. The heart shape of your ass, the way he could see all your pretty holes and how you clenched around him, the way he could get his cock inside you deeper than other positions… how he could grab your hips and fuck you hard, bruising your insides and out. He liked being able to spank your pretty ass and thumb at your tight ring of muscles and he especially liked spreading your cheeks and burying his face between them.

But nothing compared to watching your face. The way your eyes would roll back into your head, how they’d flutter and close when something felt especially good. The scrunch of your nose and furrow of your brow and the way your mouth would part in a whimper when something hurt a little too good. The way your jaw would clench and slack and how dazed your eyes got when he wrapped his hand around your throat.

He loved watching the effect he had on you. Your face showed him how good he was making you feel in a way your body didn’t and it became a little game to him on how to get you to make certain facial expressions.

Mostly though… he liked watching your eyes gloss over the harder he fucked you, the meaner he was. He loved to watch you slip into an ultimate state of submission and pleasure.

“Daddy…” You moaned, unable to come up with anything in reply to him. You were already too far gone.

“I know.” He sympathised. “Shit baby, you feel so fucking good. So good. Got the best pussy, you do.”

There was nothing like having a man moan for you. When they whimpered for you, praised you.

“Love your cock.” The words tumbled out without real thought, “feels so good. Always need it so bad.”

Shit. You didn’t talk dirty very often, not that Harry minded. He liked to watch your reactions when he uttered total filth. But Jesus… when you said anything remotely sexual like that, that you loved his cock? For a moment he feared he was going to prematurely cum before he made you finish for the second time.

“I love when you talk dirty to me, baby, but you’re gonna need to stop if you want me to keep fucking you.”

You let out a choked laugh at his words, loving how one small compliment had him stilling for a second to collect himself. You clenched on purpose, gasping with a smile when he pinched your cheeks a little harder.

“Spit in my mouth.”

Now you were just fucking with him. Through the haze of your pussy being completely destroyed by him, you still managed to tease him and be a fucking brat.

“God, you’re fucking filthy tonight.” He gritted, cocking his head while sliding his hand down your jaw to the top of your throat so he could tuck his thumb into your mouth. “Open up.”

Your lips parted instantly, earning a pleased ‘good girl’ in return that had you happy as anything. “Stick your tongue out.” Again, you followed his instruction instantly, whimpering when his fingers dug into the sides of your neck with purpose. “That’s it. Good girl.”

Yeah... Daddy is back I guess... ANYWAY if you'd like to read the entire 6.5k word smut scene you can find it on my patreon now 👼

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yeoja-dream · 3 months

Text

1+1=3

Pairing: Minsung x reader, jisung and leeknow x reader, leeknow x jisung Genre: Smut with light plot, AU, light fluff, comfort Characters: Han Jisung, LeeKnow/Lee Minho, Fem!Reader Content Warning: dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex, dollification, praise, degradation, safe word use with after care Word Count: 6.5k

It had been a stressful week between work and school, and you drummed your fingers on your steering wheel in anticipation as you traveled to your boyfriend’s house for the weekend. Between your mutually busy schedules, you had to survive the week with random and scant flirty messages, cat pics, and 15-minute FaceTime calls, and it certainly was not enough.

The city traffic finally relented, and finally, you found yourself in front of the apartment of your boyfriend, Lee Minho. Punching in the door code, you let yourself in. The apartment was modest, a two-bedroom place Minho shared with 3 cats and Jisung, his roommate and partner. The main area was an open-concept kitchen and living area that was currently unoccupied, save for Soonie who had jumped up when you entered and had begun brushing against your legs.

“I’m home!” You called out, bending over to give the cat some attention. You walked further in, removing your shoes, dropping your overnight bag, and plopping on the couch. You had gotten up early to drive over and it was a relief to be here finally.

A few minutes later, Minho padded out barefoot, all messy air and bleary eyes, smiling from ear to ear.

“Y/N!” He said with as much enthusiasm as his sleepy voice could produce. He extended his arms making a grabbing motion at you to come and hug him. He always acted like a big baby when he first woke up.

“Hi baby,” You stood up, hugging him tightly, inhaling his comforting scent. “Do not tell me you are just waking up! It’s passed noon!”

He rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Late night,” He said, voice raspy.

“I can see that,” You said, looking him up and down. “You must be hungry, go sit and I’ll make something up. I bet Jisung is hungry too.”

“I can make my own food,” He began to protest.

“You hush,” You scold him, shooing him to the couch. “I know you can but let me take care of you.” He faux pouted, but he let you push him down as you walked into their shared kitchen.

For a pair of boys, their kitchen is always well stocked. You put on a playlist of your favorite tunes and get to work. Nothing special you decided, a hearty omelet with some bacon and toast should more than suffice for the two of them. As you began cooking, you found yourself taken by the beat of the music, dancing in place and singing loudly as you mixed and stirred, but still managing to keep one eye out to keep the eggs from burning.

You didn’t notice the way Minho looked at you, eyes full of amusement and adoration. You also didn’t notice when Jisung woke from his mid-day slumber. You noticed him very quickly, however, when you turned around and suddenly he was standing over your shoulder, scaring the crap out of you.

“Jesus christ, Jisung!” You smacked his arm. “You scared the crap out of me!” Somewhere on the couch, you heard Minho’s unmistakable laugh.

“I was just curious what you were cooking! You didn’t answer me when I asked!” He said, holding his hands up defensively.

“Bacon and eggs,” You said, turning him around and giving him a light push towards the couch. “Go sit with Minho you know I hate having people in the kitchen when I’m cooking.” Jisung shuffled in the direction you pointed him mumbling something in acceptance as you got back to work.

Han Jisung was the other partner of your boyfriend. The two had met and started dating long before you met Minho, since high school if Minho was to be believed. The pair lived together, worked together, and spent almost every waking moment together. When you had first visited the apartment, you laughed to yourself about the seemingly completely superfluous need for separate bedrooms for a couple that otherwise did everything together.

You had met Minho 2 years back when you were a freshman in college, he a junior. Initially, you had started off as classmates, and later, friends, bonding over your shared hatred for your dickhead organic chemistry professor and late-night study sessions. His long-term partner was no secret to you, which is what made his confession to you a year after you had met all the more unexpected. Of course, you had slowly found yourself falling for him. Outside of his sarcastic, cool, no-fun exterior was a man on the inside who was brilliantly witty, felt deeply, and had intense passion and empathy for the things and people he loved. You had also, however, resolved to keep your feelings to yourself and made peace with the fact that the two of you as a couple would never be.

It was in the music room late one night. Despite it not being related to your major, Minho had convinced you to take a music theory class so he could share the thing that he loved with you. You had asked him to meet you and help you prepare for a listening exam, but the two of you spent two hours talking and goofing off on the piano. As the night was winding down and you were getting ready to go back to your dorm, he stopped you and confessed to you. He told you about his feelings, how he found himself attracted to you, how he adored the way you snorted when you laughed really hard, how he loved your passion for your field, how caring and considerate you were, and how he had hoped you felt the same way.

To say it caught you off guard would be an understatement. Of course, the feelings were mutual, but his relationship with Jisung made things complicated. You had met Jisung, befriended him. You had been to their home, you saw how they interacted, how they seemed to be made for each other, and you wondered how you could possibly fit into that.

In the following days, you talked a lot with Minho about what being together would look like. About needs and boundaries, about communication and jealousy. You’d take it slow, you both agreed and from that day on, you had become a couple.

In the year or so that had passed since then, you had grown a lot as a couple. Of course, it helped that you had grown a close relationship with Jisung as well. He was cute, super silly but an insanely deep thinker and wise far beyond his years. On nights Minho was gone, the two of you would spend hours making silly songs and then singing them in ridiculous voices, playing board games, and talking about the bigger, scarier things in life. He had become your closest friend and confidant, and slowly, your worries about feeling like an outsider in your own relationship dissipated as you realized that love was not a finite commodity. Your worries about fracturing the close relationship between the pair relaxed too as it had become clear that being with you was not a sacrifice, and more often than not, involved doing whatever they were doing anyways but including you.

The rules your relationship had been built on in the last few months, however, had become steadily more and more shaky. Originally, you and Jisung agreed to be purely platonic friends. You were limited and respectful with each other about physical intimacy, even keeping acts like hugs quick and on rare occasions. It was then also agreed, naturally, that there would be no acts of intimacy as a group. Slowly, however, those strict boundaries seemed to loosen and a comfortable, non-sexual intimacy had blossomed between both you and Jisung, and the three of you as a group. Jisung gave amazing hugs, and cuddle piles on Minho’s bed while you all watched Netflix were simply heaven. It was from the dissolution of those boundaries that you found yourself torn. In the privacy of your own mind, you could admit that you had developed a crush on Jisung. Some nights when the three of you were cozy in bed, you found yourself needing to resist the urge to plant a kiss on Jisung’s cute, sleepy face as you would run your fingers through his hair absent-mindedly. On the other hand, your dynamic was good, great even. Minho spoiled you. He loved you in a quieter way, preferring to silently send you DoorDash from your favorite restaurant on really hard days or be an attentive ear when you needed to get something off your chest. He was the type to keep a list of things you love on his phone, places, things, experiences, anything you had exclaimed you loved he wrote down. When you first caught him doing so, you called him on it and he told you simply that he wanted you to have everything, the world if you so desired, and that he would give it to you. You loved him too, and you would love him for as long as he would let you. It felt wrong, selfish even, to ask for more. For you, Minho was more than enough.

You slid two identical plates piled high with omelet, bacon, toast, and some home fries you had found in the back of the freezer.

“Food’s done!” You said in a sing-songy voice before turning to head back to the kitchen to clean up. Before you could, however, Minho had gotten up and in a flash, positioned himself between you and the sink, his arms crossed.

“Every time you cook we do the same thing,” He scolded. “When have either of us let you clean after you cook for us?”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically. You filled a small bowl with the remaining home fries and plopped down to join the boys at the breakfast table.

Conversation was light over what was, at that time, ostensibly lunch, rather than breakfast. And, despite immense protest from you, the boys cleaned up after your cooking mess with relative efficiency.

It was a beautiful, tepid day outside, and the three of you agreed to head to the local park where you spent hours appreciating the weather, nature, and each other’s company. Before long, it was time for dinner. You all went back and forth, bickering about dinner options, and finally, just decided to order a pizza. You had a long-standing tradition, dating back to your first official date with Minho. The two of you couldn’t agree on what to have for dinner, finally settling on pizza and agreeing that no one could dislike pizza. From then on when you couldn’t agree on dinner, you’d order a pizza.

The pizza was enjoyed and eaten on the couch, yet another inane reality dating show with a bizarre twist on the TV to act as conversation fodder. After the episode's conclusion, ever the cat-fanatic, Minho turned on the Playstation and you and Jisung watched him play Stray, the two of you mostly pointing to things in the environment and commanding him to investigate, much to Minho’s playful dismay.

As the night wound down, the three of you decided to call it a night, Jisung heading to his room, you and Minho heading off to his. You had already changed into your sleepwear, an oversized t-shirt and panties, when you slipped into bed next to Minho, who was already in bed, passively scrolling on his phone. You slid your arm across his torso, pulling yourself towards him and resting your head on his shoulder. From this angle, you were able to see his phone clearly, growing bored immediately as you realize he was browsing the specifications of different audio controllers. Quickly, your mind filled with ulterior motives. After the stressful week you had, you wanted nothing more to be filled and pounded into a quivering, babbling mess by your boyfriend. The mental image alone had your stomach doing backflips.

Taking initiative, you tuned your head to the side and began kissing his neck. Minho continued his scrolling, not reacting, so you went further, licking and sucking the sensitive skin gently. That too, elicited no response. In return, you rolled over in a huff, turning your back to him, and pulling the covers up high. At your antics, Minho chuckled deep and low.

“Did you want something from me?” He asked nonchalantly.

You sighed deeply again. “Do I really need to spell it out?” You retorted.

“Ah, but what am I always telling you about using your words?” He asked. With your back still turned, you heard the singular knock of his phone as he placed it on the nightstand followed by the crinkling of the bed sheets as he rolled over towards you, spooning your body with his. Almost directly into your ear this time, he speaks again. “What is it exactly that you wanted, lovely?”

You weighed briefly weighed your feigned offense versus the growing ache in your core in your mind. You could continue to pout, but you knew damn well he wouldn’t lay a finger on you until you acquiesced to his demands.

“Your cock,” You mumbled.

“Mhm,” He said approvingly, running his hand up and down your arm. “And what is it you want me to do with my cock?”

“Fuck me,” You arched your back, hoping to grind your ass against his member. “Please,” You added.

He chucked again, placing a few light kisses on your shoulder blade. “Someone is needy,” He commented, his tone amused. Suddenly, however, he pulled away from you and you felt the bed shift as he stood. You sat up now, facing him directly as he stood now in the middle of the room.

“Truthfully,” He began, “I was going to get you warmed up before I went through with tonight’s plan but, I think it will be more fun this way.” He said, turning on a heel and walking out of the room before you could question or protest. Not but 60 seconds later he returned, a very confused Jisung in tow.

“Go sit,” The older boy said, gesturing towards the bed.

With an awkward and jerky gait, Jisung obeyed, sitting on the foot of the bed on the right side, the same side on which you were currently sat.

“I can see you both are confused, but first, Y/N, what are our safewords?” Minho asked, standing over the two of you.

“Red, yellow, green,” you reply quickly. “Red stop, yellow slow down and check-in, green good.”

“And Jisungie, what are our safewords?”

“Um, red yellow green. Same system.” He replied, looking off to the side, whether in embarrassment or discomfort, you couldn’t quite discern.

“Very good.” He purred. “I’m going to take care of you both, but to do that I need to know that you understand you can use those safe words at any time. Can you do that for me?”

Your instinct was to simply nod, but you quickly remember that Minho always asks for verbal confirmation. “Yes,” You said, your confusion continuing to grow.

“Of course,” Jisung confirmed.

“Excellent,” Minho said, wordlessly prowling around to the left side of the bed. He climbed in, sliding himself into a seated position with his back against the headboard. Remaining in your respective spots, you both orient your bodies to face him as he does so, expectantly waiting explanation of the sudden intrusion.

“I learned a secret about our Jisungie recently,” Minho cooed, looking first at the younger boy, and then at you.

“Jisung?” You asked, confused. You turned your head to look at him, and as you did so, you watched his eyes go wide with realization. He looked down, burning holes into the sheets with his eyes. Despite realizing whatever Minho was about to confess on his behalf, he didn’t stop him from continuing.

“Did you know that when I fuck you,” Minho continued, “and you make all of those lovely, desperate, needy sounds?”

“I, uh, yeah?” You replied, voice squeaky. It was your turn to go red with embarrassment as you pulled your legs in close to your chest, wrapping your arms around them comfortingly.

“Well, Jisungie has been listening to you beg and moan, stroking his cock and imaging it was his cock you were stretched out over,” Minho said, his expression wolfish.

The image comes to your mind crystal clear, Jisung splayed wide open, his hand on his cock, his head thrown back in ecstasy, the sounds of your pleasure throwing him over the edge. It sends your heart racing and your stomach somersaulting.

“The walls are thin and-” Jisung attempts to defend himself, looking at you desperately searching your face for signs of rejection. Only when he’s sure he finds none does he continue. “You’re so cute and pretty and nice, Y/N, and listening to how good Hyung was making you feel made me imagine the two of you and suddenly I uh,” He paused finding the word. “Needed to relieve myself. I’m sorry that’s probably really weird of me. I know I shouldn’t have been listening I’m sorry once I started it was hard to stop and I feel really strongly for you Y/N in maybe ways a friend shouldn’t feel and…” He rambled on.

Was he confessing to you? You asked yourself. “Jisung,” You addressed him directly, cutting off his apologetic word vomit. “Are you saying you like like me?”

“Yeah?” His voice was squeaky, unsure, not of his feelings, but of your reaction.

“I like like you, too,” You blurted, relieved. “I have for a little while,” you confessed.

“Me too!” Jisung said in complete shock.

“I do love it when my loves get along,” Minho spoke up. “But I know another secret about Jisung.”

Whatever it was it couldn’t have been as much as a bombshell as the first. Even Jisung looked at him with an eyebrow quirked.

“Jisung has never been with a woman,” He stated. “He sucks my cock beautifully and on occasion fucks me pretty thoroughly too, but I thought we could teach Jisung how to make you make all those lovely sounds you make for me, how does that sound, beautiful?”

“G-Good,” You said, your voice dry.

“Good,” Minho dawled. “Jisungie?”

“Please,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” He purred again. “Good boys and girls who listen well get to cum, but those who can’t listen get punished, understand?”

“Yes,” The two of you responded.

“You are both so good at using your words, let's keep that up.” He stated, looking at the two of you. “Y/N, why don’t you kiss Jisung?”

Wordlessly, you unwrapped yourself and crawled to the foot of the bed where Jisung was still seated. He turned his whole body to face you, and as you brought your face in close to his, you paused just millimeters away, teasing him for just a moment before closing the distance.

Your lips gently met his, soft, plump, and full of nervous energy. It’s cute, you decided, taking the lead and kissing him again but harder. Jisung matches your energy, and despite his nerves to be kissing you , you quickly realize he is not an inexperienced kisser. As the kiss heats up in passion and intensity, he follows. You both used your tongues sparingly but tactfully, excitedly exploring and experiencing one another. Through it all you both manage to keep your hands off one another, not having been given permission to touch.

“You may touch,” Minho finally allowed after what felt like an eternity.

Jisung was sat cross-legged on the bed, and you were still on your hands and knees facing him. With Minho’s verbal permission granted, you parted briefly only to climb into his lap facing him, legs fully straddling his waist. In this position, you could press your chest against his chest, and your dampening core against the tent in his pajama pants. The increased contact made you both more heated, feverish. At first, your hands were wild running over his arms, then his chest, then his back. His body was lithe, all corded in lean musculature, you marveled at how toned he felt under your fingertips despite his thin frame. At the same time, Jisung’s hands explored your bodily readily, starting in the safe places, rubbing first your arms, then your back and sides, before coming around to cup a breast. Using his thumb, he drew lazy circles around your nipple, the sensation causing you to sigh with satisfaction. You kissed again, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and crushing your chest against his. He wrapped his arms around low around your waist, using the leverage to rhythmically rock you against his core. The contact was relatively minimal considering the two layers of clothes in between, but the sensation was already causing him to blush and pant.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Minho approved from behind you. Before things could go too much further, however, he called your name, interrupting. “Y/N, Come sit, back to me,” He instructed, patting the space on the bed in between his parted legs.

You do as you are told, your back resting against his chest in a reclined seated position.

“Arms up,” Minho again commanded. As you comply, he lifts your oversized t-shirt up and over your head, leaving you completely exposed except for your panties. Jisung stared, his eyes transfixed and hungry. He didn’t dare move. The attention makes you shy, but you know better than to cover up.

“Give me a color, sweetness,” He asked you directly.

“Green,” You breathed.

“Jisung?”

“Huh? Oh, super green.” He said, blinking hard, clearing something from his mind.

“I am also green,” Minho confirmed. “Now for this part, my love, all I need you to do is be a perfect little doll for Jisungie, remember we are teaching him how to make you feel good. You can make all the noises you’d like but you may not move, guide him, or if he does a good enough job, cum until I allow you, do you understand?”

“Yes,” You breathed.

“Yes, what?” He asked you again.

“Yes, sir .” You added.

Seemingly satisfied, he turned his attention to Jisung.

“Jisung aren’t Y/N’s tits gorgeous?” Minho asked, reaching around and taking both breasts in his hands as if presenting them to him. You sighed at the warmth of his palms.

“Yeah-” Jisung agreed, his voice hoarse.

“The thing is, her nipples are pretty sensitive,” He began, shifting his hand placement slightly to trap your nipples between his thumb and forefingers, applying minimal pressure. “So the first way to make her make those noises you love is like this,” He punctuated his sentence by increasing the pressure of his fingers, rolling the sensitive skin in between. The sensation catches you off guard and you squeak in surprise, but ultimately relax and moan quietly at the feeling.

“Come play with her tits,” Minho invited, dropping both breasts. You watch Jisung almost fall over himself scrambling to make his way over to you. He kissed you first, briefly, however as he moved on to peppering shorter kisses down your jaw and neck, all the way down to your chest. He took one breast in his hand, repeating the light rolling motion the older man had shown him, but with the other breast, he enveloped the nipple with his mouth, licking and sucking with eagerness. After a few minutes, he switched, showing the opposite side the same attention. You groaned at the feeling, letting your head relax back against Minho’s chest.

“Good boy,” Minho praised. “But look,”

The command made Jisung drop his hands and pull away, waiting to hear what exactly he was meant to be looking at.

“Her panties are soaked, do you know what that means?”

“I’m doing a good job?” Jisung replied tentatively.

“Precisely,” Minho cooed. “Hips up,” He addressed you now. You do so without hesitation. “Take her panties off,” He spoke again to Jisung.

Jisung pulled back a bit, giving himself a bit more room to hook his thumbs around the fabric and pull it down and off, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Minho then grabbed both of your legs one by one, lifting them up and out, placing them on the outside of his legs. From this position, even if you wanted to close your legs, you would be entirely blocked from doing so by Minho’s legs. In this position, you were pinned wide open for Jisung to see and appreciate, and appreciate Jisung indeed did. He stared at your dripping core like a man starved, and it was making you dizzy with desire.

Minho reached down, using one hand to part your folds and the other to find the bundle of nerves. He does so quickly and easily, drawing painfully slow circles around the area. You want to protest, to beg for more, but you know better.

“Got you are fucking soaked,” Minho groaned into your ear before addressing Jisung again. “This is the clit, if you want to make Y/N cum, this spot is really important.” He withdrew his finger and moved it lower, dipping it into your core. “Down here is her pussy. When you finger her, curve your fingers like this,” He demonstrated, lazily pumping a single curved finger in and out of your entrance. Your nerves are on fire , and even with one, unenthusiastic finger, you find yourself clenching around his finger and groaning, mentally screaming for more. Minho laughs darkly at you, “Ah, you just wait you haven’t earned it yet.” He looked up at Jisung, “The G-spot is what you’re aiming for, it's the spot on top that feels a little different than the rest.” With that, he withdrew both of his hands. “Jisungie, you suck my cock so well, why don’t you try eating Y/N out? You’ll know you’re doing it right by her reaction. Once you find it though, don’t stop.”

A new wave of nerves clearly hits Jisung as he is now completely out of his element. Making out and sucking nipples was easy, everyone had them. Slowly he lowered himself, positioning himself comfortably between your legs. He parted your folds gingerly, and after taking a calming breath, stuck his tongue out exploratively. He took to your clit quickly, but his movements were decidedly slow. He took his time mapping and exploring, memorizing the points that made you gasp and jerk. Once he had found the best spot, he built up a shocking and punishing pace with his tongue, one that had your back arching against Minho’s chest.

“Ah, fuCK-” You gasped, your hands white-knuckled in the sheets.

“Give her two fingers,” Minho instructed. Without breaking tempo, Jisung slid two fingers in, rocking them into you at a slow, deliberate, tempo, dragging his fingertips against the nerves of your g-spot, making you clench tight around them. The juxtaposition between his fingers and his mouth was divine, putting your full focus on pushing down the growing tightness in your core. You make the mistake, however, of looking down, the sinful sight of Jisung’s pretty face buried between your thighs and the wet, squelching sounds of your pussy greedily milking his fingers combined suddenly bring you much closer to the edge than you expected, in serious danger of careening off the edge without permission.

“I- ah- cum! Please!” Was all you managed to get out.

“Ah but princess, I wanted you to cum all over Jisung’s pretty cock, don’t tell me you’re gonna cum now.”

“I can- fUCK, I can go twice,” You offer up, anything to negotiate your release.

“Hmm,” He paused, thinking to himself.

Think faster! You thought to yourself.

“It’s a special day and I’m feeling generous, you can go ahead and cum baby but you still have to show Jisungie how pretty you are when you’re making a mess all over his cock.” He drawled, brushing a stray hair from your face and planting a kiss on your temple.

With permission granted, and no more than 3 more pumps of Jisung’s fingers, you are coming, eyes closed head back, arched back, shaking and cussing through the shock waves. Jisung removes his fingers and backs off of you, and you allow yourself to fall back onto Minho, eyes closed, chest heaving as you recover. There are several seconds of silence followed by the sound of something wet, and when you open your eyes, you look up and instantly, you feel your core reignite at the sight.

They were kissing , sloppily and messily, the shine of your slick still wet on Jisung’s lips. Minho, with his only free hand, palmed the boy’s erection through his pants while he whimpered, his arms dangling at his sides. The sight was beautiful and dirty and made your toes curl with desire.

Minho gave Jisung a light push, pulling away from the younger boy. “I should punish you for moving without permission, but you still have another job to do, so I will let it slide. Clothes off,” He commanded.

Jisung wordlessly obeyed, and while doing so, Minho sat you forward slightly, giving him room to peel off his own shirt and adjust your positioning.

“He’s going fuck you really good baby, but this angle doesn’t quite work. Just lay here and enjoy I’m going to be right beside you appreciating the view.” He said, picking up your hand and placing a kiss on the knuckle. You do as he says, and after a minute, Jisung returns, giving you the chance to drink in his naked form.

He wasn’t the tallest man, but damn was he nice and proportional. His cock was thick and flushed a lovely shade of pink at the tip, which was already glistening with precum.

“Now Y/N does give fantastic head, however, today is about you learning so it’s time to fuck her. A gentleman always lets his lady cum first, so pace yourself. You may only cum after she does, understood?” Minho asked Jisung.

“Y-Yes,” Jisung said, climbing back on the bed, initially kneeling in front of your feet. He nudged your legs open tentatively, and you complied. He came in closer then, kissing you again. Instinctively, you wrapped both arms around him. This kiss lacked the heat it did before, but this time contained a new, distinct feeling of intense care and passion. It was gentle, loving, sweet, even, and it caused your chest to ache. He was losing his virginity all over again, you realized, and it made you hold him a little closer. He continued to kiss you as you felt his cock probe your folds before sliding it home at last. Instinctively, he threw his head back and groaned, inch by delicious inch, the stretch of your cunt around his cock tip to hilt had you both gasping.

You wondered for a moment what his plan was, it was obvious to anyone in the room that he was near the edge, and how he planned to make you cum before him and escape punishment piqued your curiosity. You didn’t have to wonder for long.

He pulled up and away from you a bit, cock still buried deep inside you. He pulled up one of your legs up high, resting it on one of his shoulders. His hands found purchase on the wall and bed frame. This new position was significantly less intimate than the one before but allowed for a much better range of motion. He withdrew from you almost entirely and then snapped forward, the force of which had both your head hitting the headboard and an audible slapping sound as your pelvises collided. He pulled out again, and with the same force slammed into you. His pace was slow but incredibly consistent but hard . Sensitive from coming already, you found yourself gripping the sheets, the coil in your core winding up once again. Jisung was remarkably quiet save for his heavy breathing, his face was serious and his eyebrows were furrowed with concentration. Jisung took his hand off the headboard and snaked it in between your legs, rubbing and circling your clit in the same way Minho had shown him previously. The added sensation had you writhing under him, another orgasm quickly building. Jisung sucked in air through his teeth and groaned as your walls milked his cock, but again and again, he slammed into you. You were getting close, everyone could tell.

“Cum, baby,” Minho told you again peppering your face with sweet kisses.

“Please,” Jisung begged, his release painfully close for him.

You were so close, babbling and begging to no one in particular, and yet you still couldn’t quite crest over that edge. Jisung growled suddenly in frustration, taking his spare hand from the wall and wrapping it around your throat.

“You’re such a dumb cock slut that you can’t do what you’re fucking told? When you are told to cum, you fucking cum.” Jisung said through gritted teeth, staring daggers through you. He applied no pressure with his hand on your throat, but the sudden shift to dom Jisung sends you careering violently over the edge. Your orgasm ripped through you in waves, made even more intense by the rapid pounding and merciless pounding Jisung was now doing, chasing his own release which too found him momentarily, his head throwing back in ecstasy and filling you thoroughly.

Jisung pulled out of you, but in a blur, Minho was on top of you, fucking you hard and fast. Oversensitive from having just orgasmed, it was far, far too much, tears beginning to pickle in your eyes.

“Tuh… tuh much…” You babble, rather incoherently.

Minho continued fucking into you at breakneck speed, but his words were all encouragement, how beautiful you looked, how amazing you did, how good you felt, how close he was, and how good you were making him feel. Regardless, the overstimulation was turning rapidly into pain and you needed a break.

“Y-Yellow,” You breathed.

Immediately Minho slowed to a stop, pulling his cock out of you and watching your face carefully.

“Do we need to stop? You did beautifully, you don’t have to push yourself anymore.” He caressed your face with the back of his hand and brushed away sweat-drenched hair. As overstimulated as you felt with him fucking you, the sensation of his cock pulling out sends you over and a couple of tears actually spill over.

“No no this will not do,” Minho says wiping away your tears, getting off of you. “Today isn’t a day for tears, come on, let’s draw up a bubble bath and I’ll rub your back with the lavender essential oil.” He starts to get up.

“No!” you almost shout, grabbing his wrist.

Jisung, having finally recovered, was a frequent bottom and recognized the exact thing you were currently feeling. He sits back in bed, sitting next to you. He picks up your hand and brings it to his lips.

“You wanna be good for Minho, huh, kitten?”

“Yeah,” You said, nodding enthusiastically.

“You wanna cum for him and make him feel really good, right? Make a mess all over his cock like you did all over mine?”

“Wanna cum,” you agreed.

“You have to tell him that, kitten,” Jisung said kissing your face softly.

“I wanna cum, please. I wanna be good. I wanna make you feel good, too.” You begged Minho. He kissed you softly.

“You’ve been so good, princess. I’m going to take really good care of you, okay? Lift your hips, please.” As you did so, he slid a pillow underneath, changing the angle so that when he slides back into you, he hit your g spot every single time . The break short was precisely what you needed, and as Minho fucks you again, the oversensitive feeling has already dissipated and the relentless assault on your g-spot brings you rapidly close to yet another orgasm.

Jisung is at your side now, and as Minho is all sweet nothings and praise, Jisung’s mouth is fucking filthy . “I just filled you up with cum and you still can get enough, huh? One cock isn’t enough, you have to have two, how greedy.” He remarks, his tone patronizing but undercut by the delicate way he holds and kisses you.

It isn’t long after your third and final orgasm hits you like a semi. Feeling your walls relax and contract around him sends Minho off of his precipice too as he unloads into you.

Minho rolls off of you and collapses on the bed, silence cut by your heavy breathing settling in as you all recuperate.

“That… was amazing,” Minho said between breaths.

“You can say that again.” Jisung agreed. “I’m not a virgin anymore!”

“You weren’t a virgin before,” Minho pointed out.

“Well I’m not a virgin again ,” Jisung said with a pout. “I lost it twice.”

Minho laughed at him. “Y/N was the star of the show.” He said, rubbing your leg and looking at you fondly. “And tell Jisung he can’t be a double non-virgin.”

“I can’t disagree,” Jisung said, kissing you. “Wait yes I can, to the second thing you said though. Tell him I can so be a double non-virgin!”

You were thoroughly exhausted and still sub-spacy, but you still managed to laugh at the boyish antics of the man in front of you. “Jisung can be whatever he wants to be,” You fake-scolded Minho. “What happened to Dom Jisung?” You asked with a small laugh.

“Yes!” Jisung celebrated. “Oh, he came and went,” He said with a wink.

Both you and Minho groaned at that one.

“In seriousness, I’m sorry that just kind of came out of me, I didn’t expect it myself to be honest! I wish we had talked about it before and I didn’t spring it on you.”

“You’re probably right that we should have talked about it, but it is alright. Obviously, I ended up responding to it.” You replied with a laugh. “Thanks for not choking me without talking about it first.”

“Psh,” he blew you off. “What do I look like, some 50 shades of grey Daddy Dom? Even my sudden subconscious dom side knew that!”

You giggled at him, finally finding the strength to sit up a little bit. Your abs ached, and you were pretty sure your legs had turned to jello.

“Hey Y/N?” Jisung asked suddenly, his tone much more serious.

“Yeah, what's up?”

“If I can be whatever I want, is there I chance I can be your boyfriend?”

The vulnerability in his tone breaks your fucking heart. “Of course baby, but it’s not just my decision. We’d have to ask Minho too.” You looked at him expectantly.

“Who me? The two people I love the most also love each other, sound pretty cool to me.” Minho said with a shrug.

“Then it’s settled, boyfriend .” You said with a wink.

He tackled you in a hug kissing all over your face. “I’m so happy!”

You pat him affectionately but push him gently off. “Careful there I’m covered in enough cum as it is you’re getting more on me!” You whined.

“Oh right, sorry!” He acquiesced.

A couple beats of silence passed before you spoke up again.

“So someone said something about a bubble bath?”

_____________________________________

Hi! Thanks for reading and supporting as always, I hope you enjoyed <3

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poguesofthebau · 8 months

Text

microscope, part two

read part one here :) summary: you and steve had just enough privacy to have an actual relationship, but your friends still didn't fully understand your boundaries. slowly but surely, their tendency to barge in started to drive you insane.

word count: 6.5k pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader tags: @nix-rose-q @anea08

"seriously, y/n. all i'm saying is that i think you'd really love d&d if you gave it a try. don't knock it 'til you try it!"

you scoffed from your place in the driver's seat of the car, throwing your brother a dubious look as you took a right turn. there was only about another minute left of your ride home from school, and you'd been bickering the entire time about your steadfast refusal to learn and/or play dungeons and dragons. "dustin, our lives are like an actual game of d&d. fighting demogorgons and the mind flayer and vecna might be a cool concept in theory, but i think experiencing it in the flesh kind of ruins the fun."

although he didn't notice until after he was done talking, dustin's response was mostly lost on you. you'd been listening intently at first, fully prepared to carry out the lighthearted debate to its end, but the familiar brown bmw that suddenly appeared in your rearview mirror quickly took precedent over bickering with your little brother. you found yourself donning a giddy smile at steve's impressive timing-- he'd opened family video that morning and worked until 2, giving himself just enough time to stop back at his house to shower off the smell of vhs tapes and strangers before meeting you at your house as soon as he possibly could-- and almost running the last stop sign on the route to your house to get to see him faster. you took the final turn into your driveway a little fast, slightly jerking dustin around in the passenger seat as he made his concluding points about the joys of playing d&d. it was only when he looked at you to see what had caused the harsh turn that he realized you hadn't been listening to him at all, and before he could question it, steve was pulling into the driveway behind you.

"jesus christ," dustin remarked dramatically. "you gave me whiplash because steve is here? you saw him yesterday!" you spared a brief moment to stick your tongue out at dustin in a childish response before swinging open your car door and seeking out the boy you'd been waiting all day to see.

you'd slipped into steve's arms as soon as you wriggled out of the car, ignoring your brother's groan as you greeted your boyfriend. dustin made a few disapproving comments as he ascended the stairs to your house, not bothering to offer his older friend an actual greeting before heading inside. waiting until you heard the click of your front door shutting behind the boy before releasing steve, you leaned up to peck him on the lips a few times.

"hey, baby," steve said contentedly, leaning in again to kiss you on the cheek as you smiled up at him.

"hi, stevie."

once you'd been greeted sufficiently, he reached into the backseat and retrieved your backpack, slinging one of its straps over his shoulder and sliding his opposite hand into yours. from there, you guided him into your house, only pausing on the walk to your room to call out a warning to dustin, who was now in the kitchen searching for an after-school snack. "do not come in my room. for anything. don't even knock. got it?"

"ick," he said, making a disgusted face at you over the fridge door. "like i want to know what the two of you do behind closed doors."

and with that, you escaped into your room, steve discarding your bag and his keys by the door and immediately climbing into your bed as you changed into sweats. once you were redressed, you crawled under the comforter with him, shifting around for a few moments before finally settling into the perfect position for doing absolutely nothing.

the peaceful bliss lasted all of twenty minutes.

you laid with your head tucked under steve’s chin and his arms wrapped securely around your waist, eyes closed in content as you listened to the older boy describe his day at work. you weren’t falling asleep to his voice, but the sound was distancing you from the day’s previous challenges. that was the thing about steve: he didn’t need to try, but he always remedied a bad day, or brightened a dull one, or calmed a chaotic one.

he was in the middle of a story about his worst customer of the day when the sound of the doorbell ringing through your house interrupted him. your closed bedroom door kept the noise from being too loud, but it was enough of a distraction to make him pause and look to you as you cracked your eyes open in annoyance. "dustin will get it. go ahead, keep talking," you insisted when your eyes met steve's. he nodded, fighting a smile of adoration as he watched you nuzzle a little closer to him and close your eyes again.

just as he inhaled and opened his mouth to continue, the doorbell rang again, three times in a row. a low noise escaped from the back of your throat-- steve would later refer to the sound as a growl-- and flipped over in steve's arms to face your bedroom door. "dustin, get the door!" you yelled, knowing the boy could hear you at that volume regardless of where he was in the house. you hesitated then, making sure the doorbell wasn't going to ring again before looking at steve over your shoulder. "it would be a god damn shame if, after everything we've survived, i was driven to murder dustin over a doorbell."

"i don't think anyone would blame you," steve joked. "anyway, it's probably just a girl scout or something. but i mean, we'll never find out since you forbade dustin from coming in here." before you could ask if he'd rather be hanging out with your little brother than laying in a bed with you, he quickly added, "not that i'm complaining."

you huffed, leaning back until your body made contact with the pillows behind you. steve reached out a hand to grab one of yours, gentling tugging your arm up until it was extended enough for him to kiss the hand as you spoke. "i don't want girl scout cookies. i want an hour to lay in this bed and do absolutely nothing with you before i start to think about how much homework i have to do."

steve let out an exaggerated sigh, still holding your hand to his chin as he looked off into the distance dramatically and shook his head. "i remember when i had homework to do," he said longingly. "seems like it was a hundred years ago."

you laughed heartily, just beginning to call him on his bullshit-- "you never even did your homework, steve!"-- when there were three loud bangs on your bedroom door, followed by a momentary pause, the squeak of the doorknob turning, and a slight gust of air as the door swung open. "what the fuck--"

"is everyone decent? why don't you people answer when someone knocks?" to your complete surprise, it was max. she had one arm tossed over her face to obstruct her view, and her tone was demanding but also slightly playful. when neither you nor steve responded, she peeked over her forearm, confirming that everyone was clothed, and dropped her arm altogether. "of course you're in bed together. what's it been, two months since you two made it official?"

"five months, and we're not doing anything," steve immediately rebuked. he still had his fingers laced through yours, but he'd dropped your clasped hands onto the bed between you when max had burst into the room. "and even if we were, you're not supposed to be here!"

"max," you interjected before the two of them could engage in any more bickering. "i assume dustin told you we were in here and aren't looking for any more company, so what's so important that you put his life in danger by coming in anyway?"

the redhead huffed, dropping her backpack onto the floor beside yours and moving to your desk. she plopped down into the chair, spinning until she was facing you and steve again. "i need advice." again, neither you nor steve responded, both wearing expressions of anticipation as you waited for more details. she rolled her eyes, sighing again before admitting the full truth. "relationship advice."

"oh," you said, once again surprised by the younger girl.

clearly just as dumbfounded as you, steve still needed some clarification. "from us? why us?"

"i don't know, because you guys are, like, totally and completely in love and obsessed with each other and talk about everything and never seem to have any relationship issues?"

"i wouldn't say we never have issues," steve said thoughtfully. "there was that time you slept through our date night and all my phone calls and the sound of me ringing the doorbell eighty times."

"that was an accident! it had been a long day," you whined, whacking steve in the chest when he laughed at you. "okay, well what about the time you got that girl's number in the parking lot when you were picking me up from school?"

"hey, hey, that wasn't my fault! and i told you about it because i didn't want you to think i was--"

"o-kay," max interrupted, clearly running low on patience and not quite in the mood for a recap of all your past relationship drama. "will you guys help me, or not? because if you're too busy cuddling or whatever it is you're doing under that comforter, i'm gonna have to talk to nancy, and that will just be... weird."

you sighed, closing your eyes for a second to reminisce on the past twenty minutes when you'd been alone with steve. it wasn't that you didn't want to help max, or weren't willing to hear her out about her problems; she was like a little sister to you, and you always wanted to be there for her. however, her timing was absolutely horrendous, seeing as all you were currently interested in was looking at and talking to and being near steve. nonetheless, you bit back your selfish desire to send her away and nodded solemnly. "sure, we'll try. what happened?"

and so the next 45 minutes were spent with you, steve, and max having an in-depth conversation about communication and boundaries and compromise in a relationship. you and steve had listened intently to max, his hands busying themselves by gently fiddling with your hair or your fingers as you tried to focus all your attention on the younger girl. (by the end of the explanation, steve felt strongly as though he knew way too much about max and lucas's relationship.) when she finished explaining her fight with lucas, the two of you gave her all the relevant advice you could muster up.

with the right words of wisdom and affirmation, max seemed to relax enough to conquer her initial panic over the situation. a sense of accomplishment washed over you as she stood up and retrieved her backpack, thanking you for your help as she headed for the door. just before she walked out of your room, max paused to take in the sight of you and steve with an indecipherable expression. all she said, in an approving and matter-of-fact tone, was, "you two are cute," and then she was gone, seeming determined to solve her problems with lucas sooner than later.

feeling slightly confused but glad to be alone with your boyfriend once again, you turned in steve's arms to face him with another stunned glance. he smiled down at you, leaning in and kissing you sweetly. against your lips, he muttered, "we are cute."

the following day was friday, and you couldn't have been more excited for a week to end. school had been hellish for you recently, and you hadn't been completely certain that you would survive the week. luckily for you, the universe allowed you to function long enough to fulfill your plans to spend the weekend at steve's house while his parents were away. for obvious reasons, your mom was under the impression that you'd be spending the weekend with robin, but you'd given dustin a heads up on the ride home from school that if he had any sort of supernatural and/or otherworldly emergencies, he'd be able to get a hold of you at steve's.

much like steve had done after work the day before, you rushed home from school to shower and pack a weekend bag. not wanting to waste any extra time by going into his room to have an entire conversation, you called out a quick, "i'm leaving!" to dustin and hopped in your car.

it was a fifteen minute drive from your house to steve's; with a reasonable amount of speeding, you made it there in ten. you could feel your heart twitching in your chest at the thought of how close you were to quality time with your boyfriend as you pulled the keys from the ignition and yanked your bag out of the passenger seat.

the front door of the house was swinging open as you approached the porch, and you and steve were exchanging goofy, excited grins the moment you made eye contact. "hey there, handsome," you called to him. you ascended the small set of stairs and dropped your bag by your feet, stepping into his open arms and feeling yourself relax completely. the anticipation was over, and you were nothing but satisfied to finally be with steve again instead of just looking forward to it.

you retreated from the hug slightly to peer up at steve, earning a grin from him as his eyes met yours. before any words could come out of his mouth, though, his face completely transformed; all traces of his lovesick smile were lost and any endearing greetings were forgotten. his eyes had darted to something behind you, and steve remained frozen with you in his arms. you looked at him quizzically as he stared behind you with his brow furrowed, quickly opting to spin around in his arms to see for yourself what was so shocking.

the sight that met your eyes when you turned was one that made your heart sink to your stomach within a millisecond, panic immediately flooding through your body as your eyes settled on the area steve was staring.

it was dustin.

he was riding his bike as fast as he possibly could-- probably faster than he should-- and you could hear him panting in exhaustion before he'd even rode onto the driveway. he stumbled off the bike clumsily, knocking the kickstand down haphazardly and rushing up the porch steps until he stood right in front of you. "i-- have-- an emergency," dustin said through heavy breaths. he was visibly distraught, covered in sweat but also donning a crazed look in his eye that he reserved for especially urgent moments.

you stepped out of steve's arms then, reaching out and grabbing dustin, turning his face in your hands and scanning his body for injuries as you questioned him. "what's wrong? are you hurt? did something happen?" you couldn't find any external wounds on the boy's exposed skin, nor any rips or tears in his clothes, which was a good sign. still, you were anxious to hear whatever it was that had led your little brother here so soon after you'd left him at home.

he exhaled and inhaled deeply, putting in visible effort to slow his breathing as he looked between you and steve. "it’s suzie— she’s pissed at me,” he said breathily. “we were supposed to talk last night but i totally forgot because i was busy doing my stupid latin homework and then i crashed as soon as i finished it and now she thinks i bailed on her, which is ridiculous, because there’s no one i’d rather talk to than suzie, but still, i’m screwed. i need advice.”

you let your hands fall to your sides, blinking slowly as you took in everything the boy had just rapidly word-vomited to you. you could've been mistaken, but you didn’t think you’d heard anything about supernatural and/or otherworldly attacks. “dustin,” you said blankly. “i told you to call me if you had a real emergency. this… this does not qualify. and even if it did, that’s what phones are for.”

dustin began to protest, saying something about how his love for suzie was otherworldly, but was cut off by steve. “hey, hey, you little butthead. no back-talking to your sister, you hear me?” if you weren’t so frustrated by dustin's interruption, you might’ve smiled at steve’s protective instincts. instead, you raised your hands to your head, massaging two fingers against each of your temples and trying your hardest not to strangle the only sibling you had. as you self-soothed, steve continued to bicker with dustin. “what the hell is with you kids and coming to us for advice, anyway? we’re not running a couples’ therapy service here, you know!"

“yeah, i know that, jackass,” dustin responded sarcastically. the boys each displayed their designated ‘brotherly fighting’ grimaces for a moment, and dustin eventually admitted to what had led him there. “max told me about how you two helped her figure out her shit with lucas. so i thought, i bet my big sister and my old friend could help me out too, but apparently i was wrong. god forbid the two of you spend a little time guiding the youth of the world into adulthood instead of sucking face in a dimly lit room.”

you narrowed your eyes at him threateningly as you responded. “we only helped max because she barged into our house unannounced and guilt tripped us-- kind of like you’re doing right now. has anyone ever told you alone time is essential for a good relationship?”

"look, are you gonna help or not? it's fine if you don't, i'll just have to live forever with the memory that you value max's happiness more than mine even though you don't share a bloodline with her. no big deal."

you took a deep breath, mentally cursing at yourself for your inability to say no to any of those little hyperactive children, and gestured for dustin to follow you and steve into the house. "let's go, my little idiot. and get my bag, too."

you heard dustin murmur something that sounded like the word bullshit but decided to let it go as you followed steve through his front door. dustin was close behind you, still grumbling under his breath as he lugged along your (admittedly, overpacked) duffel bag.

"and, by the way, how the hell did you bike here so fast?"

saturday morning was deemed a rest period for you and steve.

it had taken just over three hours for dustin to leave steve's house the night before. he ended up cooking and eating dinner with you-- which was quite awkward, since steve had decorated two of the table placements to set a romantic atmosphere-- and then helping clean up afterward at your insistence. even once he claimed he was leaving, the boy lingered for another half hour, asking 'clarifying questions' until you finally threatened to call suzie and sort it out yourself. by the time dustin was on his way back home, you and steve felt more like exhausted parents than a teenage couple who had a house to themselves for a weekend. beyond a few loving moments while you got ready for bed together, the remainder of your night was uneventful.

upon waking up the following morning, the two of you moved with the utmost leisure. time was plentiful enough that you let steve try--and fail, as you knew he would-- to make you pancakes before you properly remade the batch for the both of you. once you'd both finished eating, steve convinced you to hop in the shower with him for a little morning reset.

at one point during your time in the shower, you both heard steve's landline ringing from the room over. you'd pouted and asked if he needed to answer it, but he brushed off the idea immediately, claiming, "if it rings again, i'll answer." the phone let out a few more rings before falling silent again; once it stopped, you and steve completely forgot it had rung in the first place.

around fifteen minutes later, you'd both exited the shower and were back in steve's room. you were in one of his t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts, propped on the bed as you watched steve move about the room. the sweatpants hanging from his hips were all he'd dressed himself in, not having bothered with putting on a shirt, and he was doing every simple task from tossing dirty laundry into a hamper to spritzing cologne on himself to rubbing a towel into his hair to dry it off.

"okay, sweetheart," he said, suddenly stopping at the foot of the bed to face you directly. "what's the plan for the day?"

you let out a whine, dramatically flopping backwards on the bed into a laying position. "i don't want to do anything today." steve laughed at the claim, trailing around the side of the bed and crouching down until his face was level with yours. when you met his stare and saw the disbelieving smile playing his mouth, your expression shifted to something more of a stern pout. "i'm serious, harrington. my plan of action is me, you, and this bed for at least 60% of the day."

"hm, that doesn't sound too bad," steve said ponderously, reaching out a hand to brush back the hair framing your face as he feigned thought. "60% of the day; how long is that? 13, 14 hours?" steve was standing as he spoke then, gradually shifting positions until he was sitting on the bed with his face hovering a few inches from yours. "i can think of a few good ways to pass the time, if you need some ideas."

you leaned forward the slightest amount, your head lifting off the pillow just enough to goad steve into closing the remainder of the gap between you. his mouth pressed against yours, lips slipping into place so naturally that steve couldn't even remember what it was like to not be kissing you. within a few seconds, he wasn't sure whether or not he was breathing anymore; if he wasn't, though, he was sure that you were doing it for him in some magical way that only a soulmate could. there were no thoughts in his mind aside from you, and how you tasted like the toothpaste he kept in his bathroom and smelled like his body wash mixed with your lavender shampoo and how your skin felt like home underneath the old t-shirt you'd grabbed from his dresser and how much he loved you. as far as he was concerned, the rest of the world had fallen away for the time being and there was no one or nothing else, not even gravity holding you down or stars floating in the sky. you wanted the day alone with him, and, yes, steve was very much willing to spend the rest of his day doing nothing but kissing you.

neither of you were sure how much time had passed by the time steve made the effort to slip your shirt up your body. he used the hands he had resting on your hips to push the fabric upward, and only paused to trace his thumbs over the bare skin of your chest, a sensation that made you part your lips and gasp lightly. a low chuckle escaped from steve's mouth-- his natural response to getting any sort of rise out of you-- and he moved to lift the shirt over your head. just as you shifted forward to help him out a little, a shrill sound was blaring from steve's bedside table.

the phone was ringing again.

steve pulled away from you, prompting yet another whine to make its way past your lips. "sorry, babe. just a sec, i swear." his hands slid back down your sides as he apologized, fully disentangling himself from you and moving to answer the phone. "hello?"

you muttered something snarky under your breath as he engaged in conversation, tugging the t-shirt back down and crossing your arms in annoyance. yes, steve had said that he'd pick up the phone if it rang a second time, but you'd kind of assumed that the idea of getting you naked twice before even leaving the house was something he would've been more invested in than taking a phone call.

a tiny voice in the back of your head was scolding you for being mad, reminding you not to blame steve for the lack of privacy you two got. it wasn't like he wanted to be interrupted every time he got you alone. it was just the way things went with a friend group that functioned so much like a family; everyone wanted to get a hold of mom and dad for one reason or another.

you glanced over at the brown-haired boy in an attempt to distract yourself with the forever-entertaining activity of admiring him, but the expression he now wore made it kind of difficult to focus. his eyes had widened and his brows raised, and the 'o' shape of his mouth immediately told you that he'd just heard something startling and, most likely, disruptive. before you could ask who it was or get close enough to overhear the other person's voice, steve was speaking again. "i-- yes, i heard you! jesus christ," he said rashly. his tone of voice narrowed the list of potential callers down to one of your close friends; if you had to guess, you would've put your money on it being dustin again. "okay, fine. i just need a while to confirm. yeah, yeah, robin. i'll call you back in five minutes. bye."

"robin?" you asked when steve looked at you again. "why are you confirming something with robin in the next five minutes, steve?"

"well, apparently we both forgot," he started to explain, putting emphasis on the reminder that you, too, had the same lapse in memory as he did. "but the plan for today is actually to hang out with robin!"

you opened your mouth to deny his claim, only to spontaneously recall exactly what steve was talking about. instead of speaking, you dropped your head into your hands and let out a pitiful groan. "i can't believe i forgot about that."

it had slipped both your mind and steve's, but robin had indeed insisted that you both spend a day with her that weekend, and you'd all settled on saturday. part of her justification, which you'd deemed valid earlier in the week when steve wasn't milliseconds from taking off your clothes, was that she 'hadn't spent enough quality time with the two of you outside of work and school during the last few weeks.' the other part, which steve consciously chose not to relay to you, was that she 'needed to revive her hope in true love by being around your true love, which is the truest love she's ever seen.' mostly, steve didn't ever want to repeat that sentence due to how ridiculously dramatic and mushy it was. on top of that, though, steve knew you, and he knew that you hated being the center of attention. having your friend surveil and analyze everything you and steve did was a surefire way to drive you absolutely insane. you wanted to be able to fly under the radar sometimes; not to be invisible, necessarily, but just to blend into the background of a moment without your actions being spotlighted. so, in order to prevent you from feeling any impending dread before or during your time with robin, steve decided to spare you that one detail.

peeking out from behind your hands, you met eyes with steve. "do you think we could get out of it?"

scrunching his nose, steve shook his head lightly. your head slid back behind your hands in response, and steve sighed. "unfortunately, i think the longer we put it off, the worse it'll be when we finally do it. i mean, you know i love robin, but she's pretty obsessive." when you didn't react to words, he reached out and grabbed your wrists, gently pulling on them until you submitted and dropped your hands altogether. once your face was exposed again, steve's hands found his way onto either side of your head and he leaned in close before speaking again. "if you really don't want to go, i'll call her back and cancel. she'll have to get over it eventually."

for a few seconds, you just looked at steve. it seemed like a second chance at the effort you'd made a few minutes earlier; there was a lot to admire about him, and in just a moment you were able to take it all in and soak in how much you loved him. without thinking, you suddenly careened forward and pressed your mouth to steve's hastily. he was visibly surprised by the display of affection when you withdrew, which earned him an amused smile and another peck on the lips. "call robin back and tell her we'll be at her house in half an hour."

and so, the plan to spend the day in bed went down the drain.

"you're sure you're not mad at me?"

"no, steve, i'm not mad at you. i'm mad at everyone else."

it was the next day, and the likelihood of you finally being alone with steve for more than twenty minutes at a time was beginning to feel more and more unrealistic. (sure, the two of you were currently alone in his kitchen, but you wouldn't have been surprised if you blinked and suddenly another person was in the room with you too.) the last three consecutive days had been tainted with your friends' problems, and the inability to turn any of them away was officially impeding your happiness. you'd thought you were doing a decent job of keeping your dissatisfaction hidden from steve, but the questions he began asking on sunday morning clearly proved otherwise. so, not only were you gradually losing your composure, but steve was also noticing how on edge you were feeling.

"is this about what robin said last night?" you glared at him from across the kitchen table, a pointless attempt to scare steve into dropping the subject. instead of shying away as you'd hoped he would, he gave you a knowing look and continued to press the matter. "we both know it is, so why don't you just admit it?"

"fine, steve," you said harshly, crossing your arms and leaning back in the wooden chair you were sitting in. "i'm mad because robin basically said that we're not significant as individuals and that us being a couple is the most interesting thing about either one of us. are you happy now?"

he sighed, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. "that's not what she said, y/n. you know she doesn't actually think that."

"maybe not consciously," you argued. "but the only thing she thinks about when she sees one of us is that we're dating the other. ever since we told them we're together, everyone just thinks we're, like, some token flawless soulmate couple that never has problems and never needs to spend actual alone time together because, 'their relationship is already so perfect!' and yeah, i love you more than i ever imagined i could love another person, and i don't ever plan on losing you because you are my soulmate. but that doesn't mean i don't need you to take me on dates sometimes, or spend an afternoon doing nothing in bed, or whatever else stupid fleeting high school relationships are about, because i do! but, no, we can't have any time for any of that because everyone just wants us to exist near them so they can have their faith in love restored and have us magically give them all the answers to being in a relationship."

there was a brief pause when you stopped rambling; steve wasn't completely sure if you were finished with your monologue, and he knew better than to interrupt when you were on a verbal warpath. he was certain you were done soon enough, and a rush a guilt accompanied the words he carefully selected in reply. "i knew they were getting on your nerves, but i didn't realize it was bothering you this much."

it was you who sighed this time, feeling your own shudder of guilt as you processed the upset tone in steve's voice. "i didn't want you to realize it. i was hoping they would eventually ease up a little, but it turns out they're just as invasive now as they were before we were official, and it doesn't seem to be getting any better."

"what can i do?" steve asked, moving around the table and toward you. within a moment he was standing beside you, and you had to tilt your head slightly upward to clearly see his face. "i know you said you're not mad at me, but i still feel guilty about you feeling this way and not being able to talk to me about it."

"i should've talked to you about it," you admitted. "i know i could've, and i feel better now that i have. i just didn't want to complain about them, because they're our friends, and my little brother, and i am glad they trust us enough to talk about their problems with us. but sometimes i just want to be with you. only you. does that make sense?"

he smiled at you softly, reaching out and pushing your hair away from your face. "yeah, that makes sense." his hand dropped down to your shoulder and slid halfway down your upper arm. "just try not to be mad at them, y/n," steve gently insisted. "you know they mean the best. christ, they can save the world time and time again, but they're not too great at just being normal. i just don't think they really get it. i mean, dustin and max are basically just kids, and robin is... hyperactive. they know you care about whatever they have to complain about, so you're the first person they want to tell. and it just so happens that i'm always with you when they come around. they don't really consider any other factors."

suddenly your brow was furrowing, and you were slowly shaking your head. "no, i don't think that's it."

"you think they're intentionally venting to you just so they can get on your nerves?"

"no, not that. what you said about them wanting to tell me things and you just happening to be there. that's not true." steve was clearly uncertain of what point you were trying to make. his hand fell from your arm as he tried to process what you were getting at. instinctually, your hand was grabbing his again as you fought back a smile at how unknowing he was; he really had no idea how the people he loved so dearly saw him. "those kids love you, steve. and you're robin's best friend. yeah, they want to tell me about whatever's going on in their lives, but they want to tell you just as badly."

steve's expression transformed from clueless to appeased in the blink of an eye. he grinned at you foolishly, giving your hand a squeeze. "you think so?"

you couldn't help but laugh, a boisterous sound that filled steve's heart to the brim with adoration. "yes, steve, i think so."

sparing a moment to admire you as you caught your breath from laughing, steve leaned down to press his mouth to yours sweetly. when he pulled back a few seconds later, you grabbed onto his shirt, using the fabric to guide his lips back to yours again. you kissed him until you felt a little lightheaded in the way only steve could make you. even then, you kept him close. his face was only a few millimeters from yours when you locked eyes with him, and he flashed you another grin. "my parents' flight won't be in until late tonight. wanna go back upstairs?"

you flashed him a smile of your own, kissing him chastely before standing from your chair. "we're definitely going back upstairs."

he began to lead you out of the kitchen, moving swiftly toward the stairs that led to his bedroom. to no one's surprise, his movements were halted when the sound of the landline ringing was echoing through the room. you could faintly hear the same sound traveling downstairs from steve's room. he looked back at you, wearing the look of a deer caught in headlights as he tried to decode your expression. you dropped your head onto his shoulder, eyes falling shut as you released a giggle. at this point, all you could do was laugh. "we're cursed, stevie."

in a sudden shift of emotions, steve recomposed himself and took a step toward the ringing phone. you looked to him in surprise, but knew he had no intentions of explaining his plan to you beforehand. in response to your joking comment about being cursed, he said, "not if i can help it." then he snatched the phone off the hook and uttered a quick greeting. his eyes closed momentarily as he listened intently to the voice on the other line. (it was lucas this time, calling with what felt like a centuries-old request for advice from you and steve.) you laughed at his intense concentration, using the hand that wasn't wrapped in steve's to cover your mouth and stifle any sound. "nope!" steve was suddenly shouting into the phone. "i'm not available, and she's not available. unless you want to deal with me, try again tomorrow. get on your stupid walkie and tell that to everyone else, too! don't call back!" and with that, he slammed the phone back onto its hook.

"wow," you said through yet another laugh. "i thought you said we shouldn't be mad at them?"

"yeah, we shouldn't be mad. that doesn't mean we should be nice when they call." by then, you' were'd begun guiding steve along the path through his house to the stairs. clearly, he'd handled the issue of being interrupted for the day, so there was no good reason not to follow through on your plans to head upstairs. "they're worse than the god damn telemarketers."

"agreed," you said, turning the final corner and starting to head up the carpeted steps. "they're lucky we have better things to do than spending the day yelling at them."

"much better things to do," steve echoed as he cheerfully followed you up the stairs. "but they still might include some yelling."

needless to say, the phone didn't ring again for the rest of the day.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington blurb

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 2 months

Text

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 8

AO3

Summary: After an encounter at Coombe House leaves Frankie and Rosie's relationship fragile, they seek to repair it when she is given leave for Christmas

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 6.5k (BUCKLE UP FOLKS)

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The sun disappeared as soon as it had come, and as the weeks rolled steadily into December the men at Thorpe Abbotts learned the truth of the great English winter. At sunrise, the grass lay encrusted with frost, but by midday the ice was washed away by downpours, leaving the fields a muddy marshland. Every day was dreary, cold, and damp, and Rosie was beginning to feel mocked by it, the outside world mirroring the misery he felt within.

Frankie was avoiding him. She wouldn't admit to it, but she hadn't spoken to him alone in weeks. Sure, she would sit with the Riveters in the pub or come to see them before a mission, but since their trip to Coombe House, he couldn't get her alone. Whenever he thought the chance had arisen, some pressing matter would suddenly arise that she had to attend to, and she was gone as soon as she'd arrived.

He missed her. He missed her so badly that it hurt - he missed her face being the first he saw after every mission, missed being able to tell her everything, missed making her laugh. Rosie didn't care that she hadn't kissed him anymore. He just wanted her back.

"Tell me what happened again," George demanded, perched on the edge of her bed, watching Frankie as she brushed the stubborn knots out of her hair.

Frankie sighed. "I have told you a million times already."

"I know. I'm just still trying to fathom how you could be such a fucking idiot!" She cried, grabbing one of her pillows and throwing it across the room, colliding with Frankie with a soft thump.

"Oi!" Frankie exclaimed, lobbing it right back, a shriek escaping George as it smacked her in the face.

"He's so obviously in love with you - has been for months - I just don't get it. Coombe House was the perfect opportunity. Bit of a snog and a shag, yunno."

"Jesus Christ," She muttered, shaking her head. "You're the one who warned me against getting too attached. I'm just... starting to think you were right."

George's smile dropped, and she swore she felt her stomach lurch. "Oh, Frankie, no-"

"What? Am I seriously supposed to just go for it knowing what will happen if he doesn't come back?"

Frankie hadn't uttered a word of this to her, but it was clear it had been plaguing her for some time. "I'm not supposed to be a cautionary tale, I'm supposed to be your friend. Which means I want you to be happy - find it where you can, don't just avoid it because of what happened to me."

Her entire face furrowed with her frown. "I'm just... I'm in too deep already. And I'm scared, George."

"Oh, c'mere," George sighed, rising to stand as she gestured for Frankie to come closer. Enveloping her in an embrace, her nostrils inhaled the always-lingering scent of engine oil. "I don't regret Curt. I miss him like hell and sometimes it feels really really shit. But I wouldn't trade the time I had with him to make it hurt less - if anything it's more special to me now. Don't hold back because you're scared it'll hurt later, because if anything does go wrong you'll regret it more than anything."

Frankie frowned, chin burrowed into the crook of George's neck. "You think so?"

"I know it."

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The pub was packed as always, the sea of faces ever-changing with the constant stream of replacements. It didn't matter that it was just as busy as it had always been, the place felt half-empty with so many familiar faces missing. Rosie's Riveters were always guaranteed a table, their reputation as the 100th's finest flyers preceding them - boys would actually give up their chairs when Rosie came in, and he could never dissuade them, no matter how much he cringed at the attention.

Half-empty pint glasses littered the table, conversation and laughter flowing freely among the team, but Rosie couldn't help but let his gaze wander. She was usually here - usually posted at the same spot at the bar with George, hogging the space in front of the beer taps so they could always get the bartender's attention whenever they needed another round. But when he looked up now, their spot was taken by a pair of replacements who scarcely looked old enough to fly.

"Rosie agrees, dontcha?" Bailey's voice came, and it was as if he'd been forcefully dragged back to reality.

"Hm?"

"Brooklyn's better than Queens, ain't it?"

"Oh. Definitely," He nodded, attempting to be as subtle as he could as he continued to scan the room.

Suddenly, the piano in the corner started up, thumping out a raucous tune. He'd only seen it used once or twice the entire time he'd been at Thorpe Abbotts, but the nearing advent of Christmas seemed to be putting the Brits in much higher spirits. A crowd of RAF and WAAF staff had formed around the piano player, drinks in hand as they began to perform a sequence of rowdy old drinking songs, more yelling than they were singing.

The words were foreign to American ears, but the English seemed to know them all by heart, belting out sordid tales of prostitutes and the like in a jolly, musical fashion. The pilots seemed roused by the scene, and Bailey began to clap along to the beat in encouragement, grinning as he watched the crowd. There was a sense of joy in the air, enough even to make Rosie crack a smile, elbow resting on the back of his chair as he listened.

And then he saw her.

Frankie was leant against the lid of the piano, pint in hand, belting out the words with the rest of them, grinning as she sang. She was wearing her proper WAAF uniform, her hair curled tight beneath her chin, lips painted a deep red. He never saw her in dress uniform, and for a moment he was taken aback by how well it suited her. Before Rosie had formed any sort of plan for what he was doing, he had risen to his feet, and was crossing the room towards her, weaving his way through the crowd.

A hand seized his arm. George was certainly strong when she wanted to be, and she wanted to be now, dragging him sideways away from the group, gnawing at her bottom lip, her teeth coming away with lipstick stains.

"It's my fault," She stated firmly, speaking loudly to be heard over the music.

Rosie's brow furrowed in confusion. "George, what're you talking about?"

"It's my fault Frankie won't talk to you - I only just figured it out, I'm sorry."

His shoulders squared, a frown forming. "What do you mean it's your fault, what did you do?"

"I... I told her that I haven't been speaking to the pilots since Curtis Biddick died - you don't know him, but he was... kinda my boyfriend."

"Oh, George, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it sucks. But I think she took it to heart, and now she's scared to get too close to you in case something happens."

"... She told you that?"

"Not explicitly, but I'm not an idiot. And I know her very well."

Rosie nodded hurriedly as he considered this, passing his weight from one foot to the other as he debated approaching Frankie. Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded determinedly. "George," He held her by the shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Thank you."

"Don't ever do that again."

"I am sorry," He nodded, hands held up in surrender as he backed away, turning on his heel to make a beeline towards Frankie. George watched him go, brow raised at the sudden spring in his step.

"Weird bloke," She muttered.

They were halfway through a frankly awful rendition of Three Jolly Rogues when Frankie heard someone calling her name. Her gaze travelled across the crowd, words trailing off as she noticed Rosie at the edge of the group, unable to penetrate the mass of people as he craned to catch her eye. Eyes widening for a moment, she instantly felt her heart begin to beat faster as she chugged the remainder of her beer, abandoning her empty glass atop the piano as she tried to shove her way through to him.

"Frankie!" "Rosie!"

They spoke simultaneously, words to rambled and quick to make out, especially over the din of the pub. "Let's - let's go outside, yeah?" Frankie called over the music, and he nodded in agreement. His hand on her back came as a reflex, an instinct as they moved towards the door. She didn't step away.

Stepping out into the night air was like running head-first into a wall of ice, the sudden cold almost making Frankie gasp, her breath erupting in a visible cloud in front of her face. The sheer number of bodies inside the pub kept it permanently warm, so much so that it was easy to forget they were in the thick of December. Sucking in a breath, she rubbed at her arms to generate some warmth, her uniform jacket offering little in the way of insulation.

Rosie opened his mouth to speak, but she got there first. "I'm sorry. I've been treating you like shit and you don't deserve it, I was just being a fucking coward and-"

"Hey - no, no, no, you're ok. George told me what was going on and I get it. I get it, ok?"

Her expression was contorted in something like fear. "You do?"

"Of course," A smile flickered across his face. Of course he did. "I have no idea how hard it must be for you to wait for us all to come back, knowing what can happen up there. But... I don't wanna sound selfish Frankie but I can't stand the thought of dying without us being friends. You make coming back worth it and I- ... I miss you."

Frankie was silent for a long moment, and Rosie braced himself for whatever she was going to say.

"Come to my house for Christmas," She said. His mind had been racing trying to predict her response. He had not expected that.

"... What?"

"I got a forty-eight-hour pass for Christmas, I'm going over to my Dad's house. You can't spend it with your family, and we've got plenty of room... Well. You'd probably have to sleep on the floor but-"

She trailed off as she realised he was laughing, her brow furrowing as Rosie chuckled, nodding continuously. "Yeah," He beamed.

"Yeah?" The corner of her lips curled upwards in that wonky smile he so adored.

"Yeah, I'll come," Rosie grinned, taking a step forward and enveloping her in a hug, arms wrapped tight around her shoulders and she instinctively reached around to hug him back, her head resting against his chest.

"That would've been really awkward if you'd said no," Frankie said, her voice muffled against his jacket. Rosie laughed again, and she felt the vibrations through his chest.

"I was never gonna say no."

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They took a train on Christmas Eve, each carriage so packed with servicemen and women on leave and families visiting each other for the holiday that they were forced to stand, shuffling awkwardly out of the way whenever someone had to squeeze past. The pair had nothing to do except for a single pack of cards, although it soon became evident that the lack of space forced them to stand so close that they could always see each other's hand, and every game rapidly became pointless.

"So George isn't coming? Or Ken?" Rosie asked, fiddling with his watch as they plodded steadily onwards through the countryside, plumes of smoke from the coal engine partly obscuring the view of the trees and fields outside.

"George's family lives down in Dover - though you'd never guess it from her accent," Frankie chuckled. "She's got a pass too, so she's gone down this morning. Ken got invited for dinner by the parents of those lads he's always looking after - he'll be over there tomorrow."

He nodded along as she spoke. It had been almost an hour since anyone had tried to shuffle past them, so they'd taken to sitting on the floor, legs outstretched as far as they could go across the dirty old carpet. "Say, how'd you and George meet anyway? I never asked."

"We were both working at RAF Docking from about the middle of '41. There were a lot more WAAF there than at Abbotts, so we didn't bunk together, but we just sort of stuck, I s'pose. She only came here because of me - I got asked to come 'cause of your manpower shortage, but she reapplied so she could come too. Good thing too, I'd have been fucked without her. I think we got a bit co-dependent," She smiled to herself as she spoke, and he couldn't help but mirror it.

There was not a single sign or announcement to indicate where they were on their journey along the way. Frankie had told him it was a part of the government's anti-invasion measures, so that any would-be invaders would be unable to find their way, but really it just made him paranoid that they had missed their stop. Nevertheless, the moment they pulled into their station, she was up on her feet, a sudden air of excitement about her as she scrambled to gather their belongings. Rosie followed her out onto the platform, trying not to cough at the puffs of coal smoke that filled the station.

"Not far now," She assured him, a suitcase full of clothes in one hand, a satchel of presents in the other. It was a surprisingly sunny afternoon, although the biting cold would have suggested otherwise, and he trailed after her as they descended the high street, Rosie's head turning this way and that to take in his unfamiliar surroundings.

Frankie breezed through the place with practised familiarity, letting out a huff as she realised she'd almost lost him to the Shakespeare memorial as they passed. He had become entirely distracted by it, peering closely at the engravings that lined the base of the statue.

"Oi! Don't go all tourist on me, flyboy - I won't be late for dinner," She teased, and Rosie held up his hands in surrender, scurrying to catch up.

He could tell they were close when her shoulders drooped, excitement replaced by a comfortable calm. They reached a row of short, terraced houses, set back slightly from the main road, the thin strip of shared lawn still wet from the morning's blanket of frost. Frankie had begun grinning as she approached the house on the far end of the row, a spring of holly tied to the knocker with a messy knot of string. She shot him a smile, knocking firmly upon the wood, before spying an elderly woman a few doors down, struggling under the weight of her shopping bags as she fumbled with her door keys.

"Let me help with that, Mrs Higgins!" Frankie called, leaving Rosie alone on the doorstep as she hurried to help the old woman, gently prying the bags from her grip.

"My, Frances, haven't you grown!" Mrs Higgins declared, beaming up at her, made tiny by her stooped shoulders.

"Not since I was twelve, dear," She assured her, helping her in through the door as she carried the shopping behind her. Rosie smiled, watching on with his hands in his pockets, and he wondered how he could feel nostalgic in a place he'd never seen before.

Suddenly the door to Frankie's house swung open, and he found himself faced with a red-faced man, peering down at him with a frown. "Can I help you?"

"Dad, that's just Rosie! Let 'im in!" Frankie cried from down the street, hurriedly exiting Mrs Higgins' house as she scurried to catch up.

Mr Bevan was a huge man in every sense of the word - so tall and wide that he practically filled the entire doorway, and it almost seemed a miracle that he and his daughter were even related. But the moment he heard Frankie's voice, his face lit up with such love Rosie wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything like it, unleashing a hearty, belly laugh as she ran into his arms, practically throwing herself at the man.

"Rosie? Who's Rosie?" Another voice rang from inside - a girl's voice, high-pitched and certainly familiar. "I thought you were bringing the pilot!"

"Rosie is the pilot!" Frankie called down the hall, chuckling as she broke free of her father's embrace. She ushered Rosie inside, piling her bags at the bottom of the narrow staircase. As he entered, a girl was peering suspiciously at him from the kitchen doorway. She couldn't have been older than thirteen, a crop of golden hair flowing from her scalp, and at her hip cowered another child, a little girl of about three of four, hair so blonde it was almost white.

"But Rosie's a girl's name!" The older girl protested.

He chuckled. "Well, in fairness, my real name's Robert."

"Alice, be nice," Frankie scolded gently, lifting up the smaller child with one arm as Alice's cheeks bloomed a bright red. He realised she must have been Jill, recalling her name from the phone call all those weeks ago at Coombe House.

The Bevans' house was inescapably narrow, the five of them struggling to pass each other as bags were brought in and Frankie's father bustled through to the kitchen to put the kettle on. But as she sidled into the living room, she let out a gasp, a grin creasing her cheeks.

It was a sparsely furnished place, but in all honesty there probably wasn't room for anything else. A thin pine tree was propped up in the corner, strings of tinsel and chipped old baubles hanging from its branches, and newspaper chains hung from the curtain rails.

"Oh, isn't this just wonderful," Frankie remarked as Jill wrapped her chubby arms around her neck in a sideways hug. She turned her head, nodding at Rosie, prompting him to say something.

"Oh! Yeah. Very nice, it's just like back home," He nodded in agreement, slightly tense under the eyes of strangers, even if they were both little girls.

"Rosie, d'you want a cuppa?" Mr Bevan's voice boomed from the next room. For a moment he panicked, staring at Frankie with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

"Tea. Do you want tea?" She whispered, putting Jill down on the sofa.

"Oh, uh - Yes! Thank you, Mr Bevan!"

"Oh, bloody hell, it's Allen, son," He shook his head, carrying in a teapot on a tray to place on the small table in the middle of the room.

"Even the boys at the garage call you Allen, eh Dad?" Frankie pointed out, pouring a cup of tea and straining the leaves before passing it to Rosie.

"Reason I hired 'em," He agreed, lowering himself into one of the armchairs with a heavy grunt. Rosie accepted the tea with a smile, and had just brought the cup to his lips when Allen leant down and unstrapped his foot, pulling it off and propping it against the wall. He almost choked. Alice let out a snort that sounded remarkably like Frankie's.

"Christ, sorry lad," He laughed, red face turning even redder. "Probably should've warned you about that."

Rosie forced out an awkward chuckle, nodding along. Jill was sat beside him on the sofa, staring up at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging slightly agape. He smiled down at her, noticing Frankie as she smirked at the whole scene.

Their dinner was a meagre feast of beans on toast, and Rosie suspected they were saving everything else for Christmas Day, saving it up to put on a true banquet. He and Frankie had been relegated to the living room to sleep, and she took the sofa whilst he lay on a pile of cushions and blankets on the floor. It wasn't a house built to serve any more than three - after all, it had only ever intended to house Frankie and her parents.

He was staring up at the picture frames that lined the wall as she came in - messy childhood drawings on aged paper, a laboured scrawl captioning each one with things like 'Me and Daddy' and 'My House'. Frankie had been putting the girls to bed, and padded across the carpet with a sigh, the sofa springs creaking as she collapsed backwards onto them.

"Did you draw those?" He asked, pointing up at the wall.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "God, they're so awful, I keep telling him to take them down."

"No! They're great! I think it's really nice."

Frankie stared down at him for a moment. He'd changed into his pyjamas already, lying straight across the living room floor, blanket tucked under his arms. She began to giggle, cheeks flushed from the cool draft that filled the room.

"What?" He asked.

"It's only nine. You look like you've had mummy come and tuck you in for bed," She teased, unable to look at him without collapsing into giggles again.

"I'm tired!" He protested, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Yeah, yeah. So am I, to be fair. And - fair warning - Jill will be in here at five in the morning tomorrow to open her presents. She's so excited, I don't think she'll sleep a wink."

Frankie lay back along the sofa, feet propped up against the armrest as she draped a blanket over herself before reaching out to turn off the lamp. "They're sweet kids," Rosie spoke into the darkness.

"Alice is cagey around new people - just tell her a good flying story tomorrow and she'll love you. I think Jill loves you already. She doesn't talk much, but she'll want you to play with her toys, so you'd better do it," She instructed him, and he let out a chuckle.

"Alright. I promise."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Rosie was awoken by the thunderous sound of little footsteps barrelling down the stairs, a shriek escaping Jill as she streaked into the room, making a beeline for the sofa as she hurled herself on top of Frankie. She let out an agonised groan at the sudden weight, retaliating as she tickled under Jill's arms, eliciting a series of squeals from the girl.

He groaned, grabbing one of the cushions and pressing it tight over his head to dull the sudden noise. He heard Frankie laugh, and felt her warm breath against his ear as she bent down to whisper "Told you so."

It was a half hour before the rest of the family made an appearance, time which Frankie spent desperately trying to prevent Jill from tearing open her presents, insisting she had to wait for her sister.

"Just one? Please? Please!" She whined, feet dangling off the edge of one of the kitchen chairs. Rosie wandered in and the girl went suddenly quiet, nervously pursing her lips.

"Hey Jill, why don't you show Rosie your cars, yeah?" Frankie said, pausing mid-sentence to let out a yawn as she put the kettle on the boil. The child's brow furrowed, considering this, and when she looked up at him she spoke with the seriousness of a businessman conducting an important negotiation.

"Rosie, will you play cars with me?"

"Absolutely I will," He nodded, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Jill grinned, pushing herself down from the chair as she scurried back into the living room. Rosie shot Frankie a glance, brow arched in confusion. "How does she have so much energy?"

"She's a kid," She shrugged. "I think they're all like that."

The cars were rusted and chipped, paint peeling off to expose the tarnished metal beneath, and Rosie couldn't help but suspect they must have been Frankie's years ago. He could picture her as a girl, playing with tiny tin cars on the floor of a garage somewhere whilst her father worked away fixing the real thing. The idea made him smile.

Jill made little whooshing engine sounds as she wheeled the cars around on the rug, occasionally ramming one into the table leg as she mimicked a crash - there was a groove in the wood from years of games such as this. Rosie found he did not know how to play with a child as small and as quiet as Jill, but he lined the toy racing cars up in a nice, neat row for her, quickly discovering the girl much preferred to destroy that work than admire it.

"This one's yours," She declared, holding out a chubby hand to present him with a tiny metal biplane, half of its propeller long since broken off.

"Why thank you," He grinned, accepting it gladly. They had been playing for a long time before Rosie realised he too had begun to mimic the sound of engines, lips pressed together as he tried to replicate the hum of his B-17.

Allan and Alice appeared after a while, and once the girls had opened their Christmas presents it was all hands on deck to prepare for their midday feast. The children were placed in charge of the bread stuffing, a charge they appeared to take incredibly seriously, and Rosie was presented with a pile of carrots and potatoes to peel. He sat at the table, dutifully toiling away, the kitchen gradually growing hotter and hotter as the chicken they'd bought from one of the neighbours slowly roasted in the oven.

The creak of a chair beside him caught his attention, and Rosie looked up as Frankie sat down, sliding a glass of sherry towards him. "Frankie, it's ten in the morning," He pointed out.

"If you're not at least halfway drunk by lunchtime, you're not doing Christmas right," Frankie shrugged. He noticed her father had already finished a glass. Taking a sip of her drink, she reached across the table, seizing one of the unpeeled potatoes from his pile, using a knife to whittle away at the skin. "You're very slow at this," She pointed out.

"Sorry, I'm not a practised potato peeler, dear."

She chuckled. "Guess we'll just have to train you up... Merry Christmas, Rosie."

He tore his gaze from his work, nicking the skin of his finger slightly with the blade, although he couldn't make himself mind. "Merry Christmas."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A myriad of wonderful smells had filled the kitchen by the time they sat down to eat, his chair perched on a corner of the small table between Frankie and Jill. The girls had created little paper crowns for the occasion, crafted out of scraps of wallpaper and decorated with old buttons. Rosie's sat far too small atop his head, but he fought to keep it balanced on his scalp, replacing it every time it fell off. It was a simple banquet, but after the work they had put into creating it, he could've sworn it was the best food he'd ever eaten.

"This much like your Christmases in the States, Rosie?" Allen asked.

Rosie nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah. Good food and good company, that's what it's for, ain't it?"

"I'd offer to let you call your family, but we don't have a phone," Frankie admitted, reaching across him to take Jill's plate so that she could cut up her chicken for her.

"It's no trouble, really. This is all wonderful," He nodded again, and Alice snorted as his paper crown slipped off of his head, tumbling to the floor.

Frankie shot the girl a look, brow arched in warning. He suddenly remembered what she had told him the night before. "Say, I haven't told you any of my flying stories yet, have I?" It was as if Alice were a dog, the way her ears pricked, intrigue suddenly lacing her expression.

"No. You haven't."

"Please do!" Jill added, and her older sister nodded in agreement.

Rosie began to recount some of his most interesting missions - the narrow misses, the daring manoeuvres - every detail embellished for dramatic effect to such an extent that he was at times bordering on fabrication, and he could tell from Frankie's smirk that she knew not everything he was saying was strictly true. She was smiling at her father across the table, the two of them enjoying the utterly transfixed expressions plastered across the children's faces, so enthralled that they almost forgot to eat.

Any scepticism Alice had shown before was long gone, staring wide-eyed across the table at him, her cheeks blooming red as if she'd come face to face with her lifelong hero. Either that or she was developing a crush. Frankie was beginning to suspect the latter. When dinner was finished, the girl approached her as she was filling the sink with water to wash up, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

"Frankie - Is Rosie your boyfriend?"

"What? ...No, honey, I don't think so."

Alice's brow furrowed, a look of absolute horror painting her face. "What do you mean you 'don't think so'?"

Frankie chuckled. "You'll get it when you're older."

She rolled her eyes, golden curls bouncing as she gathered the dirty dishes, stacking them in an orderly pile beside the sink. Bing Crosby came over the radio on the windowsill in front of her, the faint drawl of the King's Christmas speech coming from the main radio in the living room. Her dad had taken off his false leg again, revelling in every moment he didn't have to wear the thing, and Frankie was elbow-deep in soapy water by the time Rosie reappeared.

"Where'd you go?" She asked, looking up as he came in through the back door, paper crown still balanced atop his head.

"Getting rid of leftovers - the neighbour took the chicken scraps for her dogs."

"Ah," She nodded, suppressing a smile as he sidled next to her, seizing the dishcloth and beginning to dry the plates and cups she had finished scrubbing.

"... Yunno. Alice thinks you're my boyfriend."

Rosie nodded, laughing softly. "I think Jill thinks we're married."

"Oh she loooves you," Frankie teased, knocking against him with her hip. "She'll be wanting you to put her to bed later."

She wasn't wrong. The adults sat around the living room that night, the children long since sent to bed. Empty glasses covered the coffee table as they held their hands of cards close to their chests, finally able to have a proper game - albeit a slightly addled one. The room itself smelled of sherry, and their cheeks were all flushed pink, laughing as they played, the radio still turned on in the corner, although nothing came from it but static.

They were having such a good time that they didn't hear the little patter of footsteps trailing down the staircase - didn't look up until she was stood in the doorway, a ragged old teddy clutched in her hands. Jill's voice came out meek and exhausted. "I can't sleep."

"Well, I'm not surprised, my lamb," Frankie's dad spoke warmly. "You ate a whole month's sweet ration today."

She rubbed tiredly at her eyes, and Frankie pushed herself up off the sofa. "Alright, let's go, eh?"

"I want Rosie to do it," Jill insisted, sleepy brown eyes looking back at him. "Please?"

Frankie glanced over at him, shrugging as if to say 'I don't see why not'. "Sure thing," Rosie nodded, grunting slightly as he hopped up from his seat. Jill grinned, clutching at the cuff of his sleeve with a tiny hand as they headed up the stairs together.

Returning to her seat, Frankie grinned, watching them go until they were out of sight. It was quiet for a long moment, and she reached over to turn off the radio. Her father cleared his throat slightly. "You never mentioned - how long have you been with yer fella then?"

She had been halfway through a last sip of sherry, and choked suddenly on it, almost spitting it back out. "Who, Rosie? No, dad, we're just-"

"Oh, bloody hell, petal," He shook his head, and she wondered how he could make a term of endearment sound so frustrated. "I'm not blind as well as legless."

"You've still got one leg Dad-"

"Don't gimme that. That lad's in love with you, else he wouldn't have crossed the bloody country on Christmas Eve to come eat old carrots with you. And you! Christ alive, you look at him like you used to look at Danny-boy from down the street when you were goin' out with him. Except worse."

Frankie let out a long, agonised groan, slumping so far back against the sofa cushions it was as if she were hoping to melt into the furniture. "Dad!" She exclaimed. "... He's American."

He snorted. "Bloody hell, didn't think I raised you to be a snob."

"No! Not like that! I just... he lives in America. I can't leave you, Dad."

"Oh, piss off, yes you can. You think I'll grow this feckin' leg back overnight through the grace of your presence, love? If I let you waste your life sittin' around here, then I've failed as a Dad. I've failed your mum, n'all."

"Don't say that," She shook her head, tears forming and clouding her vision.

"No. I mean it. If that lad is gonna make you happy you go with him, dammit. Gettin' to raise you has been the best thing that ever happened to me, but you're your own woman now, Frank. And I've got a couple more little-un's to deal with. Can't have you hanging around, there's not bloody room anymore."

Frankie laughed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Her dad made to stand, groaning as he put weight on his false leg, and she jumped to her feet to help him, but he raised a hand to her, and she had no choice but to back away.

"I love you, petal," He beamed down at her, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. "And now I'm going to bed. Too much bloody sherry." She squeezed his hand, stepping out of the way so he could hobble past, grunting slightly as he hauled himself up the stairs.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time Rosie returned, Frankie was lying on the floor atop the pile of cushions and blankets he had used as a bed the night before, staring at the pictures on the wall.

"You're in my bed," He pointed out.

"I got the sofa last night - your turn."

"No - no. It's your house, you take the couch."

"Look, Rosie, we are going back tomorrow and I'll not return you to the boys with a bad back. Make me look like a bad host n'all."

He let out a sigh. "Fine," It was dark in the living room, and she couldn't wholly tell what he was doing until she felt the blanket lift up, and he burrowed beneath it beside her.

"... What are you doing."

"Compromise," Rosie shrugged, their shoulders pressed together. "... Who's Danny?"

"Oh my God!" Frankie exclaimed, covering her face with her hands, voice strained in embarrassment. "How much of that did you hear?!"

"Just a little. I was waiting for Jill to brush her teeth. So?"

She sighed, arms dropping to her sides in defeat. "He was my boyfriend for a bit when I was seventeen. It wasn't a big deal, but Dad loved him so he brings it up all the time."

He chuckled, nodding. "You were right, by the way. I do like your dad."

"Told you."

Neither of them said anything for a long time, the room plunged into silence save for the sound of them breathing. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out his features, her head lolling to the side as she stared at him.

"Actually, I lied," He confessed. Her brow furrowed in confusion, watching as Rosie rolled onto his side to face her. "I heard everything."

Frankie did the same, the pair facing each other properly. "You sneaky shit," She teased, and he let out a huff of laughter.

She heard him take a deep breath before he spoke again. "Was he right?"

"About what?"

In the dim light, she could see his brow furrow. "You know what."

Rosie's hand moved to cup Frankie's cheek, but before he could make a move she had closed the gap, and he felt the warmth of her lips press against his, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. The blankets rustled as she pressed herself against him, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck as he lifted his head up off the pillow, moving to hover over her, their lips never parting.

After a moment, she pulled away, and they both took a second to catch their breath. "Jill's probably gonna get up again in a minute. She's a nightmare to put to bed, I swear."

"Understood," Rosie nodded firmly like a man on a mission, peppering kisses from her cheek down to the crook of her neck as she squirmed, trying not to laugh as she planted a palm flat on his forehead, prying him away.

He sighed, and a bubble of laughter escaped her throat. "I'm serious! We will scar that child for life."

"Alright," Rosie huffed, lying back down beside her. He raised his hand to her face once more, her skin sticky with sweat as he pushed her hair out of the way, getting a proper look at her as best he could in the dark.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

Frankie hummed. "No. Don't think so."

"You are beautiful," He mused, winding a strand of her hair around his finger. "Even in the dark - even when you smell terrible and I say I don't care. Which I don't, by the way."

She snorted with laughter, briefly pressing her lips to his once more. "Well, I also don't mind when you smell like shit."

"Aw, that's sweet."

A small voice came from the doorway, and for a second both of their hearts stopped, hurling themselves away from each other as they tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. "I still can't sleep," Jill protested, frown audible in her voice. Rosie felt the urge to laugh at the accuracy of Frankie's prediction, and she clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

"That's ok sweetie, I'm coming," She called. The blankets rustled as she moved to stand, pressing her forehead against his just long enough to whisper.

"I told you so."

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #mota oc #mota fic #oc: frankie #frankie x rosie #oc: george #fic | i'm your man #i need to take a NAP after writing this one

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albatmobile · 2 months

Text

a conundrum of redheaded proportions pt. 2

the second and final part of this ask!

𓅪 Rated: E | 6.5k includes: misunderstandings, confessions, selectively mute!reader, blow jobs, vaginal sex, deep throating, praise kink, spitroasting, begging, lots of smut y'all ur welcome, voyeurism, jealousy, Justice league AU

𓅪 previous hookup fem!reader x jason todd, eventual fem!reader x roy harper, eventual fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

my Hero OC! Cardinal comes from this series: tumblr [1] [2] || ao3

It seems like fate that not even three days later Batman’s listing you off with Jason and him to lead a low-stakes mission with some of the younger, noob League members.

“Seems like we keep bumping into each other,” Roy teases you lightly before your squad’s debrief.

You quirk your head questioningly and make to apologize as if you’ve actually bumped into him.

“No, I just meant the other night,” He trails off unsurely, wondering if it’s too taboo to bring up you seeing him naked and hard in the hallway.

You don’t say anything, obviously, but you hardly even move.

Shit, he fucked up. Again.

Roy clears his throat subconsciously, “Er, anyway, sounds like it should be a pretty easy in-and-out type of deal, right?”

You nod bashfully and give a lame thumbs up.

Roy watches Jason sign something to you with a cheeky tinge to his movements and you respond with a flurry of sharp motions. None of it being anything Roy comes remotely close to understanding.

Roy clears his throat and both of you stop with your hands mid-sign, faces nearly touching through the armor of your masks.

It’s Roy’s turn to quirk his head.

“She said she,” Jason starts out in an obvious lie that has you instantly flicking him off. “I didn’t even say anything yet, beautiful.”

Put aside that Jason and you had just completely left Roy out of the conversation, now Jason’s giving you nicknames?

Fuck this.

“Uh,” Roy barely contains his urge to punch Jason in the stomach, knowing it’d only be in vain with Jason’s insanely padded bulletproof vest.

You huff in aggravation, looking from Jason to Roy. “Fine, I won’t say anything.”

Okay, now Roy really feels like punching Jason.

He’s supposed to be helping Roy hook up with you, not trying to steal you away for himself.

Roy’s feeling the second-hand heat from the glare you’re undoubtably shooting Jason’s way. He can’t help but feel like you’re talking about him and he really wants to know why Jason would be refusing to tell him.

You smack at his arm and clearly sign something before motioning your head toward Roy.

“What’d she say?”

You shake your head in your hand.

Jason pats Roy on the back, “First off, just because someone’s translating doesn’t mean you talk to her through me, dumbass.” Jason motions to you and Roy gulps as he follows the movement. “Second of all, she said she doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Consider it gotten.

“Yeah, no,” Roy lies, sheepishly tugging his trucker hat lower. “No wrong idea from me, that’s for sure. Nada, baby.” God, can he shut the fuck up? “Sorry,” He says finally.

You shake your head hesitantly and look down at your hands like you’re unsure of something. When your head pops back up, you look to Jason before reaching over and squeezing Roy’s hand like a reassurance that you aren’t mad.

“Shit babe, you should already know you can squeeze more than that,” He slaps a freckled hand over his mouth as soon as his word vomit catches up to him, but by then, it’s too late.

If you weren’t mad before, you definitely seem upset now.

It’s as if his words electrocute you back to reality, jolting the realization that you’d actually gone ahead with the action.

“Jesus,” Jason shakes his head like he can’t believe either of you. “It’s like watching a goddamned train wreck in slow motion.”

Roy, personally, can’t believe he keeps fucking up so tremendously with you.

It comes as a relief to all three of you when your ride shows up and the mission begins, preventing any further awkward mishaps.

𓅪𓅪

Jason takes control of the ship, sitting in the pilot’s seat before discreetly signing something to you.

Roy hears you ‘tch’ before you sign something that Jason doesn’t need to translate for him.

Without another word, well, sign, you saunter out of the cockpit, throwing one last look over your shoulder at Roy before walking to the back of the vessel.

It’s not fair.

It’s really not when your waist goes in so perfectly and your ass flares out unmistakably. Each sway comes with the cruel reminder he can’t touch it. He can’t touch you.

“God, she fucking hates me,” Roy sighs, slumping over in the jump seat. “God, I keep fucking up. I keep acting like a fucking pervert in front of her. It’s not fucking like me. I don’t know what’s going on,” He groans in frustration. “It’s like I’ve got zero fucking game around her and it’s really starting to piss me off. I can pick up any girl, but her? She’s seriously fucking me up, like, in the head and stuff, dude,” Roy points toward his head, jamming his index finger against his skull psychotically.

Jason clicks on the autopilot and gets up to shut the cockpit door, looking around to make sure no one’s overhearing them as he does so.

When he sits back down, he removes Roy’s finger, which still remains on his forehead. “You look and sound like you’re on fucking crack again, Roy.”

“It was heroin, but thanks. Always a class act to joke about addiction,” He mutters.

Jason rolls his eyes, “Is it so hard to just, I don’t know,” Jason opens his arms dramatically like it should be the most obvious thing in the world to him, “be yourself? Don’t you think maybe, at the very least, that being yourself is a bit better than this weird, lame shit you’re pulling now?”

Roy sits there, definitely not pouting, as he takes in his best friend’s words.

Jason knows the real him and still lets him hit, so maybe…

“You’re right,” Roy slumps back in his seat, exhaling dramatically enough for Jason to roll his eyes again. “If anyone’s gonna help me understand her, it’s you.” As much as he hates to admit it, Jason’s the only one who can offer him any sort of sage advice right now. “What should I do?”

Roy’s expectant puppy-dog-look has Jason milliseconds away from clicking the eject button and leaving Roy to figure shit out on his own. While he does eye the button, his hands remain on his knees as he takes in his friend’s desperate demeanor.

“Consider this a mitzvah,” Jason sighs, finally deciding to divulge Roy. “I can tell you straight up that if all you want to do is fuck her, you’re going to keep fucking up because she’s not like that.”

Well, Roy definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

“All the two of you did is fuck,” Roy points out saltily. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you ditched me to go get your dick sucked.”

“Roy,” Jason rubs at the tension steadily forming between his brows. “What did we just talk about?”

Roy puts up his hands in surrender, “I swear, it’s not my fault. It’s like my filter’s completely gone.”

“You’ve never had one to begin with,” Jason states plainly.

“Fine,” Roy gives in, motioning for Jason to continue.

“So, it wasn’t just a one-time thing like I told you. It’s a bit more complicated,” Roy’s eyes bulge. “We’d been talking ever since her split with Kate, but I didn’t want to take advantage of her. She told me she rushed into things with Kate, so she wanted to take things slow,” Jason shrugs. “You know, not like jumping into something right away. Anyway, I understood, so, in the end, I just got to know her.”

Roy shoots a knowing brow but doesn’t take the bait this time, “You seem to be forgetting I’ve also known her for years.”

“Knowing someone and knowing of someone are two different things. You and I both know that, Roy,” Jason points out. “When the time finally came that she was ready, probably like a year later, that’s the day I ditched you.”

“What happened after that?”

“It was a one time thing in the sense that it was only one day,” Jason’s attention shifts to the closed cockpit door as if it might somehow magically open. “After that, I never pushed and she never reached out like that again. We both got consumed in missions. When we’d finally get around to catching up, she’d act all shy again with me.”

Jason almost sounds embarrassed about the whole ordeal. He clears his throat, moving to busy himself with the controls, seemingly to signal the conversation was officially over with.

Roy can’t help but think back to how the two of you acted earlier… like you guys were close.

Fuck.

He mentally berates himself for getting in the middle of his friend’s… er, what exactly are you to Jason? His friend with benefits?

No.

Love interest?

Roy chances a peak at Jason out of the corner of his eyes, but with his Red Hood mask on, it’s impossible to get a read on the stoic man.

This can’t be Jason’s way of telling Roy to back off, right?

“Tell me to back off and I will.”

Jason’s helmet remains facing forward, “I could say the same for you.”

Just like that, the topic gets dropped for good and Roy’s no closer to any sort of clarity.

𓅪𓅪

Just like Batman had promised, the mission was get-in, get-out.

The swamps of Louisiana refused to be left behind as its grime sticks around long after the hostile info swap with Swamp Thing.

By the time you’re loading the dirty mutant teens back into the ship, Jason’s already calling dibs on the shower. You make sure everyone’s buckled securely into their seats before heading to the cockpit to let Jason know it’s safe for liftoff.

‘Your interrogating skills could use some work,’ Jason signs.

He can’t explicitly see it, but he knows your brow is quirked under your mask. ‘You mean lighting him on fire wasn’t protocol?’

“The fuck are you two jabbering on about?”

Roy’s voice visibly startles you and your hands still defensively in front of your chest where they’d been signing.

“Just rehashing the mission,” Jason shrugs, moving to flip a few switches on the control panel.

“You mean how she lit that oversized weed bush up like a Christmas tree?”

You snort.

‘He’s not usually like this,’ Jason looks at you before tilting his head Roy’s way. “He’s trying, though.’

You wave him off with a huff, ‘You’re delusional.’

‘If you’d just fucking talk to him,’ You’re expecting his usual response to your concern, so you’re definitely not expecting what he signs next, ‘you’d see you’re both being delusional.’

You flip him off for the second time on the mission before slipping back into your seat in the main cabin so Jason can take off.

“Women,” Is the only explantation Roy gets before the ship shoots off into the boggy, yellow sky.

Once the ship is set to fly on autopilot, Jason makes good on his dibs. His commanding boots stomp down the cabin aisle, shaking the entire aircraft as he does before coming to a halt in front of the bathroom.

“The Justice League requires an immediate debrief to be written once a mission's complete,” Red Hood's robotic voice warbles menacingly. “You have until we’re finished with this report to wash the mud from your acne-covered faces. Take any longer and your ass will be spending the ride back to base with shampoo in your hair,” His gaze shifts across the rows of seats to solidify his point to the scared prepubescent mutants who’ve yet to move. “Might wanna get a move on if you plan to rinse and repeat.”

His helmet snaps your way, gesturing you to join Roy and him up front.

‘You shouldn’t scare them like that,’ You berate him. ‘It’s mean.’

“Sorry,” He doesn’t sound it. “Thought I was, at the very least, being gentlemanly considering I just handed you private shower access.”

He doesn’t bother with signing once you’re both back in the cockpit, though you seem more focused on Roy. Even when Jason removes his helmet, you hardly react.

Truth be told, your attention is making Roy extremely nervous.

He’s already been overthinking, well, everything, but it’s worse now.

He keeps second-guessing every movement he makes. Every single word he says feels wrong no matter how long he languishes over the right thing to say.

Case in point:

“Private showers?” Roy wiggles in his seat similarly to how Lian so often would in her highchair.

“Yeah,” Is all Jason says, with a pointed look your way. “You’re welcome. Now let’s fill out this corporate bullshit so I can get Swamp Thing’s things out of my crevices.”

Roy snorts when you shiver distastefully at Jason’s choice of words.

To his surprise, Jason hands you a notepad and you begin furiously scribbling out your responses.

Meanwhile, Jason busies himself with recording Roy’s and his recollections of the mission. By the time they’re done recording, you’ve blown through six pages all filled to the brim with information. For some reason, he thinks it’s completely normal to give you a thumbs up because of this and mentally smacks himself when you respond by slamming the book shut before he can see it.

The debrief goes over smoothly with Roy only managing to make somewhat of an ass of himself, which he considers a new personal best.

The ‘somewhat’ quickly turns to ‘a complete’ when he decides to say: “You know, for someone who doesn’t talk a lot, you sure have a lot to say.”

Jason makes a hasty ‘abort’ gesture, but it’s too late.

Roy’s fucked up for the fucking gazillionth time with you.

You don’t even react, just gesture for your phone from the ship’s safe. Jason hands it over easily enough, though he’s obviously not exactly sure where this is going.

Roy swallows heavily, focusing his attention on the setting sun, which casts a golden sheen on the clouds that pass by. He tries to block out your loud typing, but the fingertips of your costume tap thunderously against your screen until it’s all he hears.

He thinks you’ll ignore him the rest of the way back until you’re suddenly flipping the screen around his way.

Jason makes a face at Roy as if to say, ‘I told you she’s into you.’

After chatting back and forth, Roy notices you shifting uncomfortably.

Jason seems to understand immediately, “Roy, show her how to turn on the showers,” Roy gawks at his best friend, not missing the hidden meaning. Roy’s about to protest, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but you’re already up and nodding to the back of the plane. “And, for fuck’s sake,” Jason huffs under his breath to Roy, “don’t make me wait too long.”

On the shower, or…?

Roy shakes his head, placing a delicate hand on your back to guide you into the pretty clean ship bathroom, considering how many people had just used it.

Before he loses the courage, Roy strips and turns to give you a full view of his bobbing, pink-tipped cock. He watches you hesitate to remove your mask as if it’d been a secondhand reaction.

Ultimately, you do pull it off, shyly biting your lip as he drinks in your godly beauty as if it’s the first time.

You slink out of the rest of your costume at a tantalizingly slow pace as you step closer and closer to Roy.

“Think we should turn on the showers to drown this out?”

You nod with half-lidded eyes as your hands slowly descend down his chest.

The faucet squeaks as Roy fiddles with a good temperature, but you seem completely preoccupied with studying his cock. Your legs obscenely spread into a squat as you come face-to-face with his bobbing erection.

Roy has to restrain himself from smacking you in the face with his dick and forcing it down your fuckable throat for fear of scaring you off. You seem content to stroke him at a gentle pace, with your firm grip exposing and concealing his tip as his foreskin stretches around each stroke. You draw a dribble of precome and curiously flick at it with the tip of your tongue. Roy suddenly surges forward, grabbing a fist full of your hair to cushion your head as he pushes you completely out of the spray and against the shower wall.

You release a small gasp before you’re back on his cock, this time with more fervor.

Your tongue teases along his length, audibly slurping up the mess of spit you’ve left behind as you retreat.

“God, this is so embarrassing,” Roy whimpers, hips sputtering against your swollen lips. You quirk a brow at him as you pull off a move that leaves his knees shaky. “You’re so good to me, baby. There’s no way I’m gonna last, fuck,” You’ve started to deep throat him again and it’s all too much.

You’re too pretty and his one-off session with Jason did nothing to increase his rusty stamina.

He pulls out of your wet, hot mouth and spurts loads of thick come across your face and expectant tongue.

Absolutely sinful.

Once he’s breathing normally, he helps you stand up and begins babbling the moment your hand slips into his.

“I never thanked you for saving me from Enchantress of all villains, by the way,” He says when he finally comes down from the high. He’s not expecting you to respond, he just wants to get it off his chest.

You short-circuit, staring at him with an owlish gaze that leaves him mesmerized.

Roy thinks he’ll never get used to looking into your eyes. The stunning mix of colors so unique to you, private to only him and, well, the rest of the redheads in the tower, but it’s something Roy can deal with if it means he gets to hold you close again.

Your mouth quivers and he thinks he’s said something wrong until you speak.

“I’ve had the biggest crush on you since we met,” Roy’s mouth goes dry as a blush steadily creeps across your plump cheeks. He watches as you subconsciously tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “I thought you hated me, though,” Your eyes flick down to where his dick is still twitching in the aftermath. “Okay, well. Yeah, I just sucked you off, but still.”

Your voice is sweet, soft and understated; everything Roy never knew he needed and more.

“Cap,” Your head comically tilts in question and Roy bursts into laughter at the action. “I mean you’re lying, babe.”

He hears a quiet gasp from you before you dramatically shake your head no, then seem to remember you’ve already revealed your voice and speak. “You intimidated me.”

Roy laughs again, “Me? Intimidate you? Oh, damn. Babe, please, you’re like the definition of intimidating. I kept thinking I was fucking up and that you’d gotten the wrong impression of me,” He finally catches his breath, shaking his head like he finally understands what’s been going on. “I definitely should’a had Jason hook us up earlier,” He pulls you back under the spray, murmuring with your face between his hands, “I’ve wanted you for so long, beautiful. You have no idea.”

“I,” Your ethereal voice cracks slightly from underuse, “I always mistook your staring as you not liking me,” You clear your throat. “Until the other night, then it finally clicked.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing you speak.

“You mean when I got a hard-on at the sight of you alone?”

He watches you swallow with greedy eyes, “Yes.”

He groans at your answer, feeling his restraint slipping again with each passing moment under your spell. “You gonna keep talking to me when we fuck, or are we gonna need some hand signals?”

You bite at your lower lip, causing Roy’s dick to twitch back to life in response, “I could talk to you forever, Roy.”

His hips buck helplessly into the small amount of air that lies between the two of you.

“Say my name again.”

It’s a command you give in to easily; over and over.

His gruff, gravely voice is nothing like you’d ever heard on a mission before and it’s driving you crazy. Your clit twitches on command as his hands tighten into fists. It’s as if to hold himself back from taking you right here and now.

“Roy,” You tease, closing the remaining distance. Your chest squishes against his armor, eyes flicking up at him through your long lashes as if you don’t already have him completely wrapped around your finger. “I need you to fuck me.”

“You…” He trails off in a daze, searching your eyes for any signs of hesitation, “You need me to?” Your eyes slide into slits and he still finds none.

Your fingers trickle over his freckled shoulders, twirling around them tantalizingly slow like a promise that this is real.

“I can’t come on my fingers just by thinking about you anymore,” You shake your head lightly. He watches as you bite at your lip again. You’re so fucking sexy, holy shit. “Not since I saw you that one night,” Roy’s dick twitches eagerly. “It’s not enough anymore. I need you, I need the real thing, Roy,” You’re practically moaning as you breathe his name against his lips. “Please, don’t make me keep begging.”

“Oh?” Roy’s fiery eyebrow quirks upward as a dominating confidence settles over him, “I think that’s exactly what you’re going to keep doing, baby.” Another twitch as you gasp from his words alone, “I want you to beg me until you’re about to come,” Your mouth parts as lust overcomes you, visibly filling your eyes. “Then I want you to beg me to stick my cock back in your wet cunt because you’re such a needy slut for me, aren’t you?” You unwittingly nod, completely enraptured by his raw sexual energy, “I want you to rut against it like the fucking whore I know you are until I finally give in and fuck you. Then and only then, are you allowed to come. Got it, princess?”

You nod with wide eyes, feeling slick already leaking out onto your inner thighs, “Yes, sir.”

“Oh,” He groans, allowing his hands to trickle down from the small of your waist to the dip right above your infamous ass. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me. Don’t you, baby?” Your fingers unclasp his remaining gear, stepping back slightly as it falls to the floor before closing the distance again. He feels your heart ramming up against your ribcage as you press into his now bare chest. “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He watches as your wide eyes flicker between his, searching their verdant depths helplessly and chuckles lowly. “You don’t have to say anything, princess. I got you. I’ll take real good care of you, I promise.”

You seem shocked that he understood your nonverbal cue and, to be honest, so is Roy.

His dick is aching, practically humping your thick thigh with every movement of your swollen lips keeps causing it to bob up and down. Before he can stick it in, however, there’s a wiggle and twist on the bathroom doorknob.

You both panic, looking at each other with wide eyes when you realize that neither of you had bothered to lock the door.

Roy scrambles to hide you, fully erect cock facing the intruder, only to sag in relief when he sees that it’s just Jason.

“It’s just me,” Jason holds his hands up in faux-surrender. He hardly seems startled by your and Roy’s naked state. If anything, he looks pleased? “Was kind of hoping Roy’s shitty stamina would mean you’d be finished by now, but I refuse to sit in my sweat any longer,” His eyes flick to your bare face with the hints of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up,” You blush, head ducking in the junction of Roy’s freckle-spattered neck for solace.

His eyebrows shoot up briefly at your verbal response before he schools his surprise, “Well, don’t let me interrupt.”

Jason then begins the motions of sudsing up his body, brow quirking when he feels the continued weight of your eyes on his movements. Roy would be pissed if he weren’t busy staring too.

Roy’s jaw nearly drops when you place your hands against the shower wall, partially under Jason’s spray, partially under the one already on next to it. You arch into the wall, wiggling your hips teasingly for Roy to come closer.

Jason’s eyes flicker down out of the corner of his eyes, watching as Roy watches him. Whether for support or permission, Jason doesn’t know, but he holds Roy's gaze, nonetheless.

Roy’s cock bobs enthusiastically in response, wondering if this was all some fucked-up sex dream he was going to wake up from.

Roy places gentle yet firm hands on your hips as he draws you backward against his erection. He paces himself, rubbing his tip against your slick entrance as his hands grope your ass in awe.

Jason's hard, spending a little too much time pumping his cock to spread his body wash for Roy not to notice. The way your head is pressed against the tiles keeps your face out of the spray, but also means that you can see both Roy and Jason.

You huff, arching your back even further

“Talk to me, baby,” Roy smirks, grabbing a handful of your ass as his cock continues to rub against your slick folds. It’s enough friction to leave your legs shaking with want.

Your half-lidded eyes sear into Roy’s lower abdomen like a siren’s call and, boy, is Roy ready to go overboard.

“Please, Roy,” You press your ass against his hard cock. You wriggle backward, hoping to gain more traction, but he continues to taunt you with the promise of his heavy heat. “Please fuck me.”

“You want me to wreck your cunt, baby?”

You nod, biting at the corner of your lip. Jason curses somewhere beside the two of you and it’s all the encouragement Roy needs to put on a show.

He drags his hands up your wet, lithe body as you perch so beautifully for him to take. He fondles your tits as he covers more and more your body with his own until his mouth is directly next to your left ear. On your right, Jason watches, emerald eyes lit with barely retrained want.

Roy smirks at his friend before turning his attention back to you. His deep voice rumbles lowly against the shell of your ear, “Beg.”

“Fuck,” You whimper, turning your head to the other side to capture his lips with yours. “I need you to fill me up, I’m so wet for you, Roy.” You press backward into his erection as if to prove it- as if Roy wasn’t already restraining himself from fucking your cunt full of his come. “My pussy’s aching for you, please,” Your sinful voice begs.

Jason’s remained entirely quiet up until this point, “Finger her.”

Roy barely holds himself back from shivering under Jason’s commanding tone, leaving him no choice but to obey.

He teases you, tickling along your labia before briefly teasing your leaking entrance. Your mouth opens and produces a porn-worthy moan, only to remain open and empty when Roy finally reaches your clit.

Jason bites his lip, looking between you and Roy for permission to oblige to your body’s reaction. Roy looks down at you, but your tongue has already lulled out to accept Jason’s girthy cock.

Roy shifts the position so you’re all in between the two shower sprays. You’re bent over, in between the two muscular men, with your face eye-level with Jason’s bobbing cock. Meanwhile, Roy’s soft hands hold your hips steady as he lines himself back up with your entrance.

Once you’re all settled, you waste no time in surging forward to swallow around Jason’s impressive length. Spit trails down the sides of your mouth as you force him deeper down your throat.

Your muffled moans and sighs are all the encouragement Roy needs.

He whines pathetically when the tip of his cock finally breeches your tight entrance, waiting briefly as you become accustomed to his girth.

Your voice is godly, so it’s no wonder that the little pleased noises you make are heavenly. Your breathy moans echo across the small room as Roy finally takes what he’s always wanted.

The wet heat of your cunt draws the most pathetic noises out of Roy as he slowly fucks his tip into you with a fluid motion of his freckled hips. Each shallow thrust leaves you aching and pressing back into him to beg for more.

“So good for us, aren’t you, baby?” Roy bites his lip impishly as he meets Jason’s half-lucid gaze head-on. Roy’s tip catches deliciously against your twitching cunt, forcing out a wanton moan that vibrates up to the very base of Jason’s cock.

Without warning, Jason groans as he releases your hair.

Roy looks questioningly at him before he’s pulled forward by his fiery hair to meet Jason’s eager lips. Roy can tell when you’ve begun sucking again because Jason’s lips become sloppier and more aggressive as they mesh against Roy’s chapped ones. When they break apart for air, Jason’s hand remains firm in Roy’s long, fiery locks. He pants, leaning his forehead against Roy’s while you eagerly work your body in between them.

Jason takes it upon himself to punish your ass cheeks while Roy uses his free hand to tangle in your tresses and tug. All the while, the men remain connected by their violent clashing of spit and teeth above your pliant arch. You feel your inhibitions deliciously slipping with every passing moment.

For once, you’re not being quiet.

If anything, it seems like Jason knew the only way to shut up your sultry whines was with his cock. The thought alone nearly sends Roy over the edge again.

He breaks away from his raven-haired best friend to grab desperately for your swinging tits.

His gentle hands squeeze and jiggle them with his thrusts slowing.

“Don’t wanna come again, baby,”’ He whimpers, flicking your nipples so that you unleash an equally pathetic noise.

Jason smirks, “Fuck that.”

You get no further warning before Jason’s calloused hand comes down on your ass cheek. His thick cock catches the majority your pleasured scream, though not completely. Roy rubs the spot, completely hypnotized at the red shape forming across your skin, then quickly pulls away and motions for Jason to repeat the erotic action.

With each hit, your moan reverberates around his cock deliciously.

A particularly hard smack forces Jason deeper into your pliant throat until he’s forced to grab a fistful of your hair to control the pace.

You feel entirely filled. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the realization as you allow your biggest crushes to use your body in the best way.

“Yeah,” Jason grabs your chin, squishing your cheeks in the process as he ruthlessly fucks against your swollen lips. His voice is a dark timbre that shakes every particle of your being. “Take that shit, you fucking slut.” He wraps his hand around your hair again as he reaches forward to smack your ass.

Your hips stutter as you whimper against the dominant pace of Jason’s hips against your mouth.

His eyes contain a verdant ire, as if he’s just barely restraining himself from pushing Roy aside and fucking you like he knows you like. You can’t help but stutter forward, body spasming in Roy’s secure grasp as your orgasm releases a euphoric, chilling heat all across your body.

Jason removes his dick, moving to support your weight with Roy as they savor every wrecked moan that crackles from your abused throat.

They only allow you to recover for so long before Jason’s smacking his veiny cock against the side of your mouth for you to open again. “Just like that,” He rumbles your name out lowly. “Good girl,” He nods at Roy who follows his lead and smacks your ass, reveling in how your abused cheeks jiggle salaciously in response.

Jason drags his cock in and out of your swollen, spit-covered lips a few more times before he maneuvers himself into a crouch.

“What are you-“ You start, but his gentle fluttering against your clit cuts you off immediately.

His rough hand instantly stifles your wrecked moan, “I know you can come again,” Another pathetic weep from you. “That’s right, you’re gonna show Roy what a slut you are, aren’t you?” Your thighs unwittingly snap shut around Jason’s skillful fingers, only to instantly be forced back open with a dark smirk, “Just like that.”

His emerald eyes capture yours as he slurps at his slick-covered fingers before shoving them down your throat.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He chuckles darkly, looking between his two-fucked out partners with a sadistic glee only Jason could harbor.

He shoves his calloused fingers further down your throat, earning a low moan that vibrates straight down to his cock. You wriggle impatiently and he gets the message. His free hand snakes teasingly down your panting torso to tickle your pulsating clit while his other hand fucks into your obedient throat.

With his expert fingers, it’s no surprise that you come again.

Your wobbly knees nearly give out to crumble down onto Roy’s dirty, discarded uniform on the floor below you. Luckily, he catches you before you can come back into contact with the disgusting swamp muck.

Roy forces his dick back inside your overly-sensitive cunt without missing a beat.

“Roy!” You exclaim as the overwhelming yet welcomed stretch starts up again. Your thighs have yet to stop shaking, but if anything, it only makes Roy fuck into you with reckless, primal abandon.

His freckled hips snap in and out of your doubled-over body at a toe-curling pace while Jay pumps his cock at the desperate display.

Roy doesn’t last much longer after your second orgasm.

The lewd sound of his dick squelching in and out of your slick-filled pussy, coupled with the clenching of your fluttering heat does him in.

What Roy doesn’t expect is for Jason to watch him come so carnally.

“You good?” Jason’s voice rumbles lowly like a predator closing in on his prey. It draws another spurt of come from his sore dick with a pained groan.

“Fuck, Jay,” He pants as he looks between you and his friend.

Roy tiredly crumbles to the dirty uniforms below with you still in his arms. You willingly follow, too exhausted to remain standing.

“Don’t think I’d mind seeing the two of you like this again,” Jason stands from his crouch, staring down at the two of you with a domineering demeanor. “Shit. Yes,” He groans when you and Roy move toward his thick cock in transfixed unison. “So fucking good.”

You and Roy share Jason nicely, taking turns licking lewdly up and down his veiny length.

It takes a moment to find a rhythm, but once you do, you’re eagerly sucking and exchanging heavy-lidded glances with the redhead beside you.

Roy takes over, flicking and moving his tongue obscenely for your pleasure. When he pulls off, he spits onto Jason’s dick, causing it to bob up and down in arousal. You waste no time in slurping it up, using it as lube to work Jason’s cock deeper down your throat. This, however, only lasts so long before Roy’s grabbing the back of your head to pull you in for a messy, toe-curling kiss.

He stares down at Roy’s noisy slurps, then at your teasing flicks with barely concealed dark want hiding behind his slitted emerald eyes.

He’s rough with both of you, taking a fistful of each of your hair to intermittently draw each of you down onto his cock, one after the other. If no one had heard you getting the best orgasms of your life earlier, they were now definitely hearing Jason’s gasps and curses clear as day.

You feel Roy’s eyes on you the entire time. Normally you’d be anxious with his undivided attention, but right now, it only spurs you to suck in Jason’s length deeper. You moan around his cock, feeling tears trickle out onto your cheeks as you finally manage to reach his hairy base.

Roy’s hands flit across your body, finally landing on your tits as he leaves open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive neck. You instinctively lean into the touch, eyes rolling to the back of your head, when Jason slowly begins to rock in and out of your throat.

They’re both unable to tear their eyes away from the show you’re putting on, but it does stop Roy’s breathy question. “You like having both of us sucking your dick, Jay?”

“Shut up, Harper,” Jason groans as he halfheartedly glares down at the redhead.

All at once, your deep-throating ceases as Jason replaces your mouth with Roy’s.

You watch as Roy gets a far more aggressive treatment as if they’ve done this before. Jason’s brows furrow together as his long fingers regain their grip on Roy’s fiery tresses before snapping far down into his throat at a brutal pace.

You gasp at the sight and are even more surprised they both falter to look at you.

“I-“ What do you even say? ‘This is the hottest shit I’ve ever seen and I want both of you in me at the same time’?

“Well,” Roy smirks wolfishly after he pulls off of Jason’s red-tipped cock with a lewd ‘pop,' “I’m down.” Jason’s biting down painfully on his lower lip, cock gripped strongly in his fist as he wills himself not to come from your words alone. Seeing this, Roy, of course, doesn’t let him off the hook so easily. “Would you want that, Jay? You want to feel that wet, tight cunt again while your dick rubs against mine?”

You’ve never seen someone come so fast.

Jason’s lips part slightly as he pumps his hot come all across your and Roy’s fucked-out, sweat-glistened bodies. His moan is breathy, slightly broken as the last of his orgasm spurts out across the two of your expectant tongues.

“Fuck,” Jason stares down at both of your slumped, sticky bodies like he’s trying to figure out if this is actually real.

By the time you’re all done making up for all the lost time, your fingers have pruned and your legs are too wobbly to hold your body.

Needless to say, the quick trek back to the cockpit is the worst walk of shame any of you have ever experienced.

A/N: this was a total self indulgent fic- i hope you enjoyed and lmk if you did! I've been in a huge creative rut recently :\

alsooooo I do have a physical copy giveaway of ARS (plus custom pins and a bookmark!) planned for april/may and you can find out more info here

[end] || ao3 || pinned

#reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #my fic: redheaded conundrum

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clairifys · 4 months

Text

Prolonged love - Joseph Liebgott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sometimes the best things in life take a long time, and sometimes life throws you for a loop. It sure threw (Y/n) for a loop when grabbing German POWs in Hagenau turns into her having to babysit a young Dutch girl.

Tw: Swearing, death, reader being trilingual, mentions of war, mentions of concentration camps, mentions of abuse, killing, slightly dirty? not full on smut, reader is female, slight misogyny due to the time period, she/her pronouns

Word count: 6.5k

I do not own Band of Brothers, nor do I own any of the characters. I am not intending to be disrespectful towards any of the people on this show

The Dutch name is pronounced like (Tina-ka) Tineke, and the nickname Tine is pronounced as (Teeny)

I was born in Chicago. My mother was born in Groningen, Netherlands, and my father in Antwerp, Belgium. I was the oldest child, and after me, my parents had five others. Despite having six kids, we were all taught Dutch and German from a young age. The sole reason I was accepted into the military was because of me being trilingual, I’ll forever be grateful to my parents for teaching me their languages.

February 9, 1945

Easy Company was on its way to France. We were stationed in Haguenau, which had been taken by the Allies in December. Honestly speaking, I didn’t really know what to expect when we got there. I was sitting in the back of a truck, squished between Babe and Liebgott. Joe had become a close friend way back in Toccoa when he’d fallen running up Currahee, and I stopped and helped him up. We both had our 48-hour weekend passes revoked, but we made the most of it that weekend together. After that, we’d spend our weekend passes together and hang out.

I was leaning against Joe as I’d been almost the whole ride, his arm slung around my shoulders as I read a book that I had found when we invaded Foy. It seemed the Krauts enjoyed good literature as I was reading For Whom the Bell Tolls in German. I was a translator for Easy Company, being able to speak English, German and Dutch, I was a heavy asset to the team. It was a beautifully told story about the Civil War that had some romance aspects while also being brutal. I finished the book twice, and now I was reading it a third time.

“Jesus doll, I think I’ve seen you read that damn book about forty times now. How good can it be?” Joe said when he noticed my attention had strayed.

“Oh it’s a beautifully told story, Joe. Although, I don’t think you could read anything that didn’t have pictures.” I replied jokingly to him, looking up at him from where I was leaning against him. I could hear Babe and Malarkey laughing, and a young soldier, Jackson watching intently.

“How can you read that, (L/n)?” A quiet voice asked in front of me. It’d been from Jackson. He lied on his documents so that made him 20 right now while I, at 23, was considered young.

“I can speak and read German. Although my mother is a Dutch immigrant, my father was a Belgium immigrant.” I spoke honestly. Picking up languages was a bit of a gift for me. I’d always been good at remembering and learning languages, probably since I was taught three languages at once from a young age.

“(Y/n)! I’ve read that book! It’s so beautifully written.” A new voice spoke from the opening in the back of the truck, I quickly jolted from Joe’s shoulder, as he groaned from lack of contact, to see who the familiar voice belonged to.

“David Webster? Where the hell have you been?” I interrogated, while simultaneously giving him a toothy smile. He blushed slightly while asking Jackson for a hand to get up on the truck and suddenly Joe spoke up sharply,

“The hospital. Must’ve liked that hospital Webster, cause uh, we left Holland four months ago.” After saying that he gave Web a dismissive look while tightening his hold on my shoulders. Suddenly, I felt very awkward, and slightly bad for Web - the war was tough and it was understandable to be afraid, it just wasn’t fair that some men snuck out only to get killed or injured more severely than the first time. They started going back and forth, jabbing at Webster passively, although it didn’t seem to be because they didn’t like him, they were just tired and upset. I gave Web a smile before getting off the truck, following Joe close behind.

“Y’know, you didn’t have to be so mean to Web.” I said calmly, making sure to not seem mad at Joe as to not have him get defensive.

“I guess, but it’s bullshit that we had men come back just to get killed.” He said quickly. When he said that, I saw Lieutenant Lipton sluggishly walking towards a building. The poor man had a bad case of Pneumonia, so I ran over and put his arm under my shoulders to help him. As I did that, explosions rang over our head and fell a little farther than we were. He gave me a smile and I helped him into the building he was walking towards. It was pretty on the inside, Luz and Captain Speirs were in the room along with Webster walking in.

“Hey look who it is. Nice digs, huh, Lip? (Y/n)?” Luz said to me and Lipton as I helped Lipton situate himself on the couch.

“Yeah.” Lipton called back, unenthusiastically and coughed slightly after.

George came over with a blanket and put it on Lipton. He had a lit cigarette in his mouth, so I took it out and took a long drag from it.

“Hey what gives (Y/n). Just ‘cause you’re a pretty dame with a nice rack doesn’t mean you can steal my cigs.” He said while laughing, only partly joking. I gave him a look and replied,

“You’re just mad, this is all you get to see of my ‘nice’ rack.”

He laughed and replied with a ‘you bet’. As he said that, a new voice spoke up, mock confident.

“Ahem. Is this the company CP for Easy?” He asked, looking at me and Luz weirdly before I went to get Lip a cup of hot coffee.

From the kitchen, I could vaguely hear that he called himself Lieutenant Jones and that he was asking for Captain Speirs. I came out with a coffee for Lipton as Speirs was drilling him about going to the back to sack out and rest. I noticed Jones had stood up when Speirs walked in.

“Christ Captain, give him a break. He’s got Pneumonia!” I told Speirs as I handed Lipton his coffee and gave him a squeeze on his shoulder. Lipton thanked me with a small smile as the new guy looked at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher.

“Hello to you Ms. (L/n). If he doesn’t rest up though, that Pneumonia won’t go away.” He said pointedly at Lipton.

“I’m sorry, are you a field nurse? I didn’t think they let field nurses come this close to action.” Jones asked me, even though he wasn’t asking with any malicious intent, and it was all curiosity, I still got upset.

“Why d’ya think I’m a field nurse? I’m literally in uniform.” I deadpanned at him while giving him a little attitude for automatically assuming I’d be a field nurse just because I was a woman.

“Oh. I’m sorry, truly I was just curious. I didn't mean any offense, I just didn’t know they let women become paratroopers.” He said quickly, face turning slightly red.

“They don’t. (Y/n) here has some insane stamina, and she’s a helluva shot!” Webster spoke up for me, and I threw him a smile.

“Oh gee, Shifty’s got a better shot than I’d ever dream of having.” I replied, giving credit to Shifty, as he did have a better shot and he was just the sweetest man alive. At that, Winters walked in and told us he’d need fifteen of us on a patrol tonight to capture prisoners. When he said he’d need a translator, I instantly knew it’d be me or Joe as we were the only two in Second Platoon who could speak German. Webster could as well, but we didn’t know which Platoon he’d be in.

After Nixon and Winters left, Speirs began talking to Lipton about who should lead, and who he could take for the patrol. During this, Jones asked to be on the patrol, which Speirs answered quickly and easily with a no, that he hadn’t any experience.

“Lipton, how many prisoners do you think there’ll be?” Speirs asked the man in question.

“Honestly, sir, I’m not quite sure, anywhere between three to forty it seems.” He said in reply.

“(L/n).” Speirs called for me as I was sitting in a chair reading.

“Ya want me to be a translator, that it?” I asked, knowing that’s what he was about to ask me.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright.”

When Webster and Lieutenant Jones left for OP two, I decided to get going as well. I knew Liebgott would be there so that was a good enough reason for me.

“Web, I’m comin’ with. Joe’s probably there right now.” I said to David, although slightly talking to Jones as well, to let him know I’d be going to.

“Yeah, no problem. Say when you’re finished with that book, d’ya mind if I reread it?” He asked me as all three of us walked down the street.

“Awh hell Web, I’ve read this thing three times now, you can go ahead and read it now.” I said while throwing him the book, silently noting how quiet Lieutenant Jones was behind us. The two men were running around crouching behind a little garden wall as I stood up, not seeing why they were doing that. When I heard the door open, Sergeant Kiehn came out, greeting me and Web and telling us where OP two was at. Before anymore words could get exchanged, bombs and mortars started raining down on us and we started running and ducking to take cover. We sat against the wall of a building before a man shouted out that it was all clear. After that, we quickly got to the building where OP two was located. Once inside, I immediately went upstairs and sat down on Joe’s bunk and plopped my stuff down.

“Hey doll, where’d you run off to?” Joe asked while wrapping his arms around me as a way to annoy me.

“Went to help Lip, where’d you go?” I asked while laughing at him.

“Came here.” He replied while digging his face into my stomach and faking sleep. Web and Lieutenant Jones came up not too long after I had, and when Jones saw me and Liebgott he immediately stiffened and gave me and Joe a weird look.

“This spot taken?” Webster asked.

“Nah it’s all yours.” Joe said to him while turning his face away from my stomach, my hands went down to card through his hair and he took notice of Jones’ look.

“Fuck are you staring at?” Joe asked him while sitting up and giving him his own glare.

“I’m sorry?” The Lieutenant asked, offended.

“You got a starin’ problem? Why you lookin’ at me and (Y/n) like that?” He challenged him.

“Alright, alright. Quit fighting, we’ve got news.” Webster said, breaking up the fight.

“Dummer, zimperlicher Junge, der dich so ansieht. (Stupid, prissy boy, lookin at you like that)” Joe mumbled to me in German, only loud enough for only me to hear.

“Er ist einfach sauer, weil du mich berührst und nicht er. (He's just mad because you're touching me and not him)” I said back laughing.

Me and Joe got up to go talk to a bunch of men in the corner laughing and smoking, while Webster and Jones went to talk to Malark. When Joe heard them talk about the patrol he pulled Web aside and I went and sat next to Babe to listen to what he was going to say.

“What do you know about this patrol thing?” Joe asked Web quietly.

“Uh, nothing.” Web said while nodding his head.

“Oh, come on, Web. You gotta know something.” Ramirez interrogated.

“I don’t” He replied adamantly

` “Bullshit.”

Web and everyone went back and forth and soon more people sat down to listen. I knew Web wouldn’t give anything up, so I decided to. My head was starting to hurt and I wanted to lay down before the patrol knowing I’d be on it at 0100.

“Speirs is picking fifteen men, Jonesy boy wants to be one of ‘em.” I said while yawning. Joe looked down at me and said,

“I say let the kid go, he could use the experience.” He smiled then Ramirez perked up,

“And I bet they could find fourteen other replacements to help him out.” while smirking.

“Nope.” I said, popping the p. “Babe, McClung, Ramirez and I are going out there.” I said dismissively.

“(Y/n)!” Web hissed at me.

“What?” I asked, confused. Then proceeded with,

“Pssh, I’ll just say it was you who said it, Joe and Babe’ll back me up, won’t you boys.” I asked, smiling up at Joe then at Babe.

“Course we will, doll.” Joe replied and Babe grunted. Webster deadpanned me and sat down when Malarkey started telling us about the patrol.

When the phone rang, and the PX supplies came in, I was ecstatic. New shoes and a shower? Felt like late Christmas. On our way out, the Krauts started to bomb us. We ran down the stairs and I threw myself under a table with Joe. When we had made it outside, we heard there was a casualty, Bill Kiehn. He was a Toccoa man. It was upsetting and it was unfair that he’d gotten through Bastogne only to die like this. I hadn’t known him too well, but the fact that I’d been talking to him 30 minutes prior made me feel like throwing up. Instead of staying to watch, me and the rest of the second platoon went over to the showers to pick up our new ODs.

Arriving at the showers, we went to go pick up our new ODs, and anything else they’d dropped for us. Nixon was standing by the depot and was holding a box with my name on it. Being the only woman paratrooper here meant I’d need a different size uniform and boots. I thanked Nixon and grabbed the box, opening it. Inside there was a uniform my size, boots, and women’s sanitary needs, a new bra set, and a few new pairs of panties.

“Well ain’t you a lucky gal, getting new undergarments while we’re stuck with the same briefs.” A voice came from behind me. Getting ready to yell at whoever was looking over my shoulder, I turned and realized it was Joe.

“Aww, poor baby has to wear the same briefs.” I replied, feigning upset and then laughing when I saw his disgruntled expression.

Before I could run off to take a much needed shower, Malarkey called for us to let us know who’d be going on the patrol.

Heffron, McClung, Ramirez, me, Liebgott, Grant, Wynn, Jackson, Shifty and Webster. When we heard how many second platoon men were going, you could practically feel the rage flowing from us.

We’d all been pissed, wanting to complain but knowing it’d do us no good. Malarkey went off towards the showers and told us to as well. There were men standing at the entrance, undressing and some coming out wet. I didn’t want to undress, even if it was only down to my bra and panties. I’d been behind Joe when I took my first few layers of my tops off. Down to my black bra and army-issued pants was when Webster came up to talk to Joe, effectively, scaring the shit out of me.

“Jesus, Web, you came outta nowhere.” I said, holding my hand to my chest to calm down.

“Oops, sorry (Y/n).” He said while rubbing the back of his neck nervously. I’d noticed his face had turned a bright shade of red, but I thought it was because he was embarrassed that he’d scared me. A hand shot out to grab my arm and turn me around when I noticed it was Joe.

“What’s the matter?” I asked curiously.

“Do you not see everyone lookin’ at you like they’re starving men looking at their last meal?” He asked bewildered. Suddenly, I became hyper aware of most of the men's eyes on me, waiting for me to finish undressing. Before I could respond Joe spoke up again.

“Nevermind that, just finish and we can go in together.” Quickly I went to undo my belt, and I realized Joe was already down to his briefs, waiting on me. I felt bad to make him wait, but he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. I took this time to really look at Joe. Sure he was cute, and I’d definitely thought about him like this before, but would he really want me? I tried not to let my hopes get up, and as I slipped my pants down my legs, I forced myself to look away from his bare chest.

Having a hot shower was probably the best thing I’d had in a long time. Quickly scrubbing my body and hair down and then rinsing off, I stepped outside in a towel and grabbed my new uniform, and new undergarments.

Joe had finished showering, so I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to a random building to change, and do my hair. When we got in, there was nobody there, probably all in the showers, so I took Joe to the first mirror I found in a bedroom and made him sit down. He had no obligations and I told him I’d be back after changing. Once I finished, I brought out my old undergarments and towel and hung them out to dry.

There was a vanity on the opposite side of a bed, with a little cushion seat, and some old, dusty hair products. I quickly got to work using them and braiding up my hair.

“Why’d you pull me away doll? Want me that bad huh?” He questioned while smirking at me and drawing a cigarette from his front pocket.

“Yeah, you wish. I wanted someone to talk to.” I joked back before replying honestly and looking at him through the mirror. I finished doing my last braid as Joe was telling me about one of his comics he found that he enjoyed. Standing up, I walked over to stand in front of him, looking down on him as he was sitting on the bed. He stopped talking and we made eye contact. He looked as handsome as ever sitting in his new ODs, with a fresh shower.

“Well don’t you look handsome in your new uniform with your hair combed.” I said to him in a sweet voice running my hands through his wet hair. His eyes darkened as his hands went to hold onto my hips.

“Jesus, (Y/n). We’ve been through hell and back and you’re still the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.” He said confidently. I could feel my face getting hot, he’d said things like this before, but this time, it felt different. Stronger almost.

“Oh, Joe. You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.” I whispered to him, and he looked up at my lips, silently asking me. I slowly closed my eyes and let my hands fall from his hair down to his face, I slowly leaned down as he looked up and closed my eyes. As our lips were less than a centimeter apart, someone awkwardly coughed.

We sprung away from each other, embarrassed that we got caught. Looking at who it was, some random replacement apologized and said he left something in here and it was his room.

When he left, I started laughing and grabbed Joe by the arm to pull him up.

“Come on, I bet everyone is wondering where we went.”

“Goddammit Johnny, you’re breaking my heart.” Luz said.

“Come on, George, just give me, I don’t know, ten, fifteen bars?” Martin pressured him

“Juicy fruit, happy?”

Johnny and Cobb had been pestering George to give them Hershey bars. I knew there wasn’t enough, and that it wasn’t fair so I just stayed quiet the whole time. Cobb began badgering George again and when George went to defend himself, a whole group of men walked in.

“Whoa, Hershey bars!” Joe exclaimed, coming up behind me to rest his hands on my shoulders from where I was sitting in front of the table of candy and treats.

“Jesus Christ.” Poor George just couldn’t catch a break.

“Wait your turn, Liebgott.” Cobb said, pissing me off. I never really liked Cobb and he didn’t like me.

“Yeah, who they for?” Liebgott asked George.

“Not you, Lieb.”

“Oh come on George, one bar!” Joe pestered, wanting to get that bar.

“Y’know who they’re for? People who don’t interrogate me. Here, (Y/n), have a bar!” George replied while looking Joe in the eye.

“Oh George! Thank you!” I exclaimed excitedly. I hadn’t known the last time I’d gotten chocolate.

“Christ, you’re only giving it to her because she’s a woman and you wanna get on her good side in case the opportunity arises to fuck her!” Cobb said angrily as I turned around, glaring, ready to hit him.

“That sounds more like something you’d do, knowing you couldn’t get a woman to sleep with you willingly if your life depended on it!” I yelled back at him which caused him to call me a slur of colorful words. After that, Joe yelled at him and I ignored him.

“Hey big mouth! Give Lieb a Hershey bar, huh?” Perconte asked.

When I heard his voice, I jumped up, running up to him to give him a hug.

“Perco! Your back!” I exclaimed as he hugged me back.

“You gotta be shittin’ me! Look who it is!” George laughed and said.

“How ya feeling?” Joe then asked him, smiling.

“As long as you keep your hands off my ass, I’ll be fine.” Perconte replied, laughing.

“Have a Hershey’s!” Luz threw one at Perconte.

“Hey he gets a fuckin Hershey bar?” Joe asked, offended as I came to sit down next to him, opening up my Hershey’s.

“Ask ya girlfriend to french ya when she’s done eating it.” George joked as I took a bite into my bar and broke it in half.

“I’ll do you one better, Joe.” I said after I swallowed and handed him the half I didn’t bite into. He took it with thanks.

“That’s not one better, he’d rather you kiss him (L/n)!” Luz said while laughing right after. Joe pushed him backwards while also laughing

At 1700, there was a briefing about the house we’d be going into. I was next to Shifty, talking with him. Every now and again me and Joe would make eye contact, until the other looked away. Winters, and Martin walked in which caused Joe to look away first. Winters explained Johnny would be going in Malarkey's place, and that made everyone slightly more comfortable. I was on Johnny’s team, along with Webster. I walked out and Liebgott was waiting for me, he left with me and as we passed Speirs, he told Joe he didn’t have to go on the patrol.

We’d been all stationed in the basement for now before the patrol. Having to eat slop and we couldn’t have our helmets. I sat with Shifty as I ate.

“Youse gonna be out there with a gun?” Shifty asked me in a sweet voice, I knew what he was talking about. He was asking if I’d be helping shoot.

“Nah, well obviously I’ll have a gun, but I’m mainly a translator.” I smiled at him and he smiled back.

“I don’ understand why they never let you shoot with me. You’re a helluva sniper.” Shifty told me, making me giggle at him.

“Oh Shift, you know how to make a woman feel good about herself.” I replied, happy that I got to talk to him before the patrol. He always knew how to make someone happy, even during nerve-wracking times.

At 0100, we were getting into those rubber boats, and setting sail on a short trip across the river. Before the fourth boat could even get far, it flipped and we were down three men. I wasn’t too nervous, knowing that I’d been through worse. When we got to the other side, Martin had someone cut the fence and me and Web, being translators, meant that we had to be up front in case we found any Germans.

So far, we’d gotten up to the steps of the house we’d need to get prisoners from. Johnny had shot into the window, and Jackson went up to throw his grenade, except, instead of waiting for it to finish detonating, Jackson didn’t stop and immediately went into the house, getting hit straight in the face with his grenade. As we ran in, me and Web were yelling at the men in German. We started to split the three men up when I heard a small cry in the corner of the room. I stopped to turn to go towards the sound.

“(L/n)! What are you doing?” Johnny yelled at me.

“Sir! There’s a child!” I shouted, confused. When I got down eye level with the little girl, I noticed she was only in a thin, white nightgown, with no shoes. She looked malnourished, hurt and mostly scared.

“Alsjeblieft! Alsjeblieft! (Please! Please!)” The little girl cried in Dutch, shrinking away from me when I went to get her.

“Het is goed schat! Rustig maar, ik ben hier om te helpen! (Its okay dear! Relax, I'm here to help!)” I replied to her in Dutch. What had a little Dutch girl been doing here? I didn’t have time to continue to calm the little girl before Johnny started yelling about getting on the boats and leaving.

“Klein meisje, ik ga je ophalen. (Little girl, I'm going to pick you up.)” I warned her before grabbing her bridal style and running with her out of the house and covering her eyes to make sure she didn’t see what was happening around her with Jackson. Pushing everyone into the boats, the girl I was holding onto kept crying and crying. The poor little girl couldn’t have been more than four years old.

“Het is goed schat. Het is goed schat. (It’s alright baby. It’s alright baby.)” I kept repeating to the small frightened girl. When Webster jumped into the boat behind me, we started going back to our side. He had his head ducked, as the Krauts kept shooting at the back boat. He had his arms around me when he realized I was shielding a child.

“(Y/n)! What the hell? Why do you have a child?” He yelled out over the gun fire.

“I don’t know! She was in the corner, she’s Dutch!” I replied, still confused as to how she got here and why she wasn’t in the Netherlands. We all ran downstairs, I was still holding onto the little girl, she had come from the Germans territory so I had to stay with her by the other prisoners. Nobody had come up to me about the girl yet so I took this as a time to try to get information so she wasn’t bombarded when adrenaline wore off.

“Wat is je naam? (What’s your name?)” I asked her calmly. She looked up at me with teary dark blue eyes. “Tineke.” She responded in a quiet voice. I was sitting on the floor and I held her so she was only facing me. I could feel someone watching me, but for now I didn’t care.

“Mooie naam! De mijne is (Y/n)! (Beautiful name! Mine is (Y/n)!)” I replied while smiling at her and gently carding my hand through her dark brown strands. Her skin was deathly pale and it was obvious she hadn’t drank or eaten anything in a long time. I gave her my canteen and she took it wearily. She wouldn’t drink it because she was scared of what could be in it. I took it back and took a small sip and gave it back. When she noticed I was okay, she started drinking out of it rapidly.

When she finished drinking, I asked her more questions.

“Spreek je Engels? (Can you speak English?)” I asked her. “Little bit.” She replied hesitantly.

“Very good, mijn liefje! (My love!)” She seemed to smile a little at the name I’d given her.

“Where is your mommy?” I asked slowly. She started to get upset at the mention of her mother but she replied anyway.

“She die. The Duits kill her. I am Joods. They take her and kill my mammie in de camps for Jodens. Then they keep me. (The Germans kill her. I am Jewish. My mommy. Camps for Jews.)” She told me in a somber tone. When she couldn’t think of the right word, she’d just say it in Dutch. I thought about bringing her to Joe later knowing he was Jewish, she might feel comfortable with him.

“You’re safe now, liefje.” I told her while bringing her close to my chest. She ended up falling asleep not even ten minutes later. It gave me time to think about what she had said. She never mentioned a last name which made me believe she didn’t know it. The camp she was talking about was also weird. What did she mean by a camp for Jewish people?

Jackson had died. That boy who’d just turned twenty, had died. He had his whole life ahead and he died in a stupid war. I hadn’t even known him too well, but he just died in front of me, in front of everyone. I was thankful Tineke was asleep as she’d already seen enough.

A day had passed since the patrol. The Germans were taken away and Tineke wouldn’t talk to anyone except me, and occasionally Joe. When Winters had found out about her, he had to ask her questions. I had come with because she couldn’t speak English very well and she refused to go anywhere if I wasn’t with her. The poor girl had been traumatized and it seemed like she’d been like that for a while.

While asking her questions, we found out her family was Jewish, and when the Germans found out, they took her and her family out of their homes to be sent to a camp. She didn’t know much, just that her mother and her got away and when they were found by the two Germans, her mother tried to fight against them resulting in her getting shot. Tineke was then taken as a hostage.

Doc Roe came in to see how she was and it turned out she had been malnourished, and if I hadn’t found her when I did she would’ve been dead. Later that day I took her to the building where the second platoon was located to introduce her.

I walked in and held onto Tine and went upstairs.

“Guys, this is Tineke. She was found in the house with the other POWs and she’s Dutch. She can speak some English, but don’t bombard her.” I spoke when I went upstairs and saw everyone. They all looked at us, and one by one I walked around with her and had her say hi to everyone. When I got to the last person, Joe, I sat down on the bunk with him and had her greet him.

“Tine, why don’t you tell Joe what you are.” I reminded her. I had told her to tell him she was Jewish before we went upstairs.

“Jewish.” Was all she said, nervous and not knowing too much English, she turned her face away into my chest. I rubbed my hand down her knotted, dirty hair realizing she needed a bath.

“Ain’t that cool! I’m Jewish too!” Joe responded in a sweet voice, smiling down at her when she slightly turned her head towards him. Before any more words could get exchanged, Webster came in to break the news that we were to go on another patrol that night and there would be another meeting at 1800. It was currently 1530 so I decided to bring Tineke down to the kitchen sink where I could give her a makeshift bath. I remembered how my mom would do that for me and my siblings when we were little and there were no baths in any of the houses.

I grabbed some soap and put it in her hair while I’d tell her stories to pass the time.

“A long time ago, there were two moons. It was said one of them, named houden got too close to the sun, and out came thousands of dragons.” I told her a story my mother used to tell me all the time.

“Houden? To hold?” She asked as I began rinsing out her hair.

“That’s right. That’s how dragons were born.” I told her. As I finished saying that, another voice piped up from behind me.

“I didn’t know dragons were born from the moon.” Joe came up behind me and waved at Tineke, who brought her hand up slightly.

“That’s because I never told you that.” I said while smiling up at him. He moved to have his arms around my waist and laid his head on my shoulder. I finished rinsing Tine off then I grabbed a towel and wrapped her in it. Nixon had got clothes small enough to fit her from one of his sources. It was a small, black dress with a dark brown fluffy shawl. She also had stockings and tiny boots. When I finished dressing her, I braided up her hair and put on a hat.

At 1800 we all went down to the basement to await Winter’s meeting he called.

“Whatcha lookin’ at Webster.” A drunk Cobb said. I put one of my hands on Web’s shoulder, holding Tineke to my chest as she slept on me, and he turned to give me a smile.

“That’s what I thought, college boy.” Cobb said while swaying lightly on his feet. I gave Cobb a glare and squeezed the hand I had on Web’s shoulder.

“Are you drunk, trooper?” Lieutenant Jones asked him, angrily.

“Leave me alone.” Cobb replied, looking away.

“Answer the question.” Jones said firmly.

“Yes, sir, I am drunk, sir.” Cobb said sassily before adding, “Drunk, and sick and tired of fucking patrols. Taking orders-”

“Hey Cobb, shut up. It’s boring, okay.” Martin cut him off before he could finish what he was saying.

“Taking his side, Johnny?” “Yeah, I am.”

After that shit show I went and sat by Joe, wanting to make sure I wouldn’t be in Cobb’s line of fire in case he decided to throw something.

Winters came in to not only tell us that we didn’t have to go on that patrol, but that we’d also be off the line tomorrow. After he left, everyone started talking, which woke up Tine, who had no idea what was going on, but was happy because everyone else was.

When I went upstairs, Winters was waiting for me.

“Hey, (Y/n).” He said, a bittersweet tone to his voice.

“Hello, sir. Anything I can help you with?” I asked, slightly nervous that he had waited for me.

“It turns out, we found one of Tineke’s family members. Her aunt and uncle. They’re set to come tonight.” He said quietly.

“Oh. Well that’s great!” I smiled slightly, feeling my heart get heavy at the fact that the young girl would be leaving.

“Tine, you hear that? Your aunt and uncle are coming to pick you up.” I told her, looking down at her. She perked up, looking between me and Winters and then she smiled. She smiled bigger than I’d ever seen her smile.

When her aunt and uncle arrived at 2100, Tineke ran up to them and they picked her up. They repeatedly thanked me and Winters and before they left, I gave Tineke a hug and kiss and turned around to walk away. As I did that, I noticed Joe was standing there waiting for me, smiling sweetly at me. We walked away, arm in arm to go back to the house together. The next day, we’d all been sent to the trucks to move to our new location. I was sitting next to Joe, my head on his shoulder as I slept.

We had made it to Germany. The Krauts surrendered and Hitler shot himself. We were finally able to stay in an actual house, with actual baths and actual beds. To us, life couldn’t get any better.

Me and Joe had been sharing a house with Perco and Luz. Frank and George went out to get eggs from a farmhouse a few blocks down so right now it was just me and Joe.

“You excited, doll?” He asked me from the table. I put down one of the wet dishes I was washing, and replied,

“For what Lieb?” “We got through the hard part!” Oh. I hadn’t really thought about that yet.

“Well, yeah, I guess. I’m just scared that I’ll have to go to the Pacific if this war finishes soon.” I replied genuinely.

“Oh don’t worry about that right now.” He said while standing up and coming behind me. I put down the last dish and pulled off the wet, yellow gloves I had on to wash the dishes in.

“Y’know, Perco and Luz just left.”

“I know Liebgott, I’ve got eyes.” I replied, smiling up at him while turning around to face him. He put his hands on the sink behind me and smiled down on me.

“Well if your eyes are any good, then you’ll be able to see how much of a hold ya got on me.” He spoke before closing the distance between us and closing the gap.

I immediately closed my eyes and kissed him back. We slowly pulled apart, and without another word he slammed his mouth into mine. This time, he was much more passionate. His hands wandered down to my waist, and mine went up to his neck and hair. I gasped as he bit my bottom lip, and he snuck his tongue into my mouth. I kissed him back with as much fervor as I could, slightly pulling on his hair without realizing. He moaned into my mouth and the vibrations caused heat to pool in my stomach.

His hands started to roam down my body, causing me to moan as well. He pulled me flush against him and then pulled me up the stairs into one of the rooms I was occupying. I gently sat down on the bed and his fingers went to my uniform top, unbuttoning my shirt.

Perconte and Luz were walking down the trail to the house they were sharing with (Y/n) and Joe, they had eggs to cook up for everyone. When they got inside, they expected to see (Y/n) and Joe downstairs, waiting for them like they had been before.

“Hey, where’d they go-”

“D’you hear that?” George cut Frank off when he heard what sounded like muffled banging from upstairs. The two men immediately smirked at each other, and Luz ran upstairs.

They stopped outside of the door getting ready to knock, when they heard moaning from the other side.

Before Frank could hold George back, he knocked on the door yelling,

“You two better hurry up before me and Perco eat all the eggs!” It was quiet for a moment before Joe shouted out towards the two men,

“Go ahead! I’m eating something way better!”

IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG! If I missed any TWs lmk and I'll add them!

#bob #band of brothers #ronald speirs #dick winters #ron speirs #eugene roe #joseph liebgott #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott x reader #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers x reader

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wreckmetoji · 1 year

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Angel Eyes, Cold Heart

A fic in which your local priest face the music after sleeping with your local priest

↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/M!Reader

content warning. amab reader, profanity, so much religion, religious guilt, alcoholism(mild), smoking, blood, angst, mentions of sex

This is a purely self-indulgent fic. Please note that even though this is a reader insert, this isn’t my usual vague reader insert. This reader is heavily based off of me and my own experiences. If the idea of any of these content warnings make you uncomfortable or are off putting, I suggest checking out a different fic. Smut will be in Pt. 2

minors DNI

A continuation of Reach Out and Touch Faith. Part 1/2

6.5k words

"Jesus Appears to Two Disciples at Emmaus. Now that same day two of them were on their way to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and they were talking with each other about all these things that had occurred."

Hands clasped together, fingers interlocked and balled hands held in front of your mouth, you stared with furrowed brows as the priest stood at his pulpit, reading from his bible in a low, calm tone. Really, you should have been more conscientious of your outwardly uncomfortable demeanor, but you were far too tied up in the movement of his lips, the sway of his hand, the peek of his canines when he smiled a particular way, to care about your outward appearance. Taking a deep breath, you leaned forwards, elbows resting on your knees as you hung your head in a more than conspicuous manner, interlaced fists pressed firmly to the line of your mouth.

"And what is more, this is the third day since all of this took place.Some women from our group have now given us astounding news. They went to the tomb early this morning,but they failed to find his body. When they returned, they told us that they had seen a vision of angels who reported that he was alive."

It had been two and a half weeks since your... tryst, with Priest Nicholas D. Wolfwood, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't avoiding him after the fact. Much to your surprise, he'd been quite tender after your romp, leading you to believe there might potentially be something more in store for you. The following Sunday proved you wrong, he was no more or less friendly, but upon trying to talk to him privately, he simply removed your hand from his shoulder and gave you that disingenuous smile, stating he needed to tend to other matters. It was a hard pill to swallow, but you tried to let it roll off your back, he's a priest, what did you expect?

Having to face the repercussions of your reckless actions wasn't exactly your style, much preferring to turn tail and run than look your mistakes in the face. And what a glorious fucking blunder this one was, truly taking the cake for poor decisions you had consciously made in your many years of living. You felt a hand on your upper back, no doubt belonging to your more than clueless mother. You hoped she couldn't feel how damp your skin was underneath your button-down due to nerves. Surely she just thought you were so moved by the specific citations priest Wolfwood had chosen the past two Sundays. She didn't seem to question your inability to make it to your regularly scheduled after-work confessions, using the guise of picking up extra hours to help out your coworkers. Realistically, that time was spent at the local dive with your face in one hand, drinks carelessly nursed in the other. You couldn't tell her that though, she might beat you for it.

"They set out immediately and returned to Jerusalem, where they found gathered together the Eleven and their companions who were saying, 'The Lord has truly been raised, and he has appeared to Simon!'Then the two described what had happened on their journey and how he had made himself known to them in the breaking of the bread."

Turning your wrist, the face of your watch lit up, showing you the time. Relief washed over you, hands shaking as your mother muttered something about you being too eager to leave so suddenly. Taking another deep breath, you whispered a disingenuous apology, eyes glancing up through your lashes to the priest stepping away from his pulpit. Much to your dismay, he seemed to already have been watching you, catching your gaze only briefly. Eyes shooting back down to your feet, you felt your ears heat up, wondering how many sins you must have committed in your previous life to be subjected to this fate.

"Luke 24 is one of the most beloved accounts of the resurrection of Jesus," His voice was getting a louder, low chatter being had through the rows of pews, "It also relates the broken bread in communion to the way God works in our lives."

Gaze staying fixated on the floor, you clenched your hands over your knees, knuckles turning a lighter shade of white with every clack of shoes against the floor getting closer and closer. The words he was speaking didn't even register to you anymore, not with every nerve on end, not with how much of a visceral effort it was to not vomit right there and then. Your stomach churned when you saw the peek of poorly polished, scuffed shoes in the corner of your vision, followed by hushed silence in the room. You didn't want to look up to see Wolfwood, you didn't want to look up to see every eye on you, you didn't want to face the music and realize you had to act like you were fine being the center of attention in a room full of people. Daring a glance up, you saw his furrowed brows, eyes looking into you just a little too deeply for your liking. Your fight or flight kicked in, pushing yourself up from your seat and past the man blocking the exit of your row.

Your mom reached out for you, whispering out a very clearly concerned, "Honey-"

"Gonna puke," Is all you said, perhaps a bit too loud, as you rushed down the aisle and pushed through the massive double doors.

After you managed to scurry down the church steps, not without tripping over yourself once or twice on the way, you walked across the parking lot, running your hands through your hair nervously, exhaling a deep sigh. Patting down your pant pockets, you pulled out a nearly empty carton of cigarettes, shaking one loose and placing it between your lips. You fumbled with the lighter, sparking it once, twice, three times, before losing your composure and letting out a frustrated shout, overhanding the piece of colorful plastic across the gravel park with all your frustrated might.

"Fuck!" You shouted again, snatching the cigarette from your mouth and turning on your heel to make your way to the car, nearly bumping into the broad figure that once again blocked your path.

"Didn't know you smoked," Wolfwood remarked, lips formed into a firm line. Clearly he wasn't amused. "Need a light?"

"I don't." A bold faced lie, considering he had caught you in the act. "And no, I'm fine, Father. Thanks."

Once again pushing to get around him, this time a hand on your exposed forearm held you in place. Glancing back when he called your name, you couldn't hide the distress on your face, refusing to look up at his eyes. He said something, something that you didn't hear, something you're sure was impertinent to your current stressors and life problems, so instead of listening you yanked your arm away, running your hands through your hair again to smooth it out.

"I'll see you next Sunday, Father."

Not giving him another chance, you walked off, deciding that waiting out the rest of church in a café for your mom to finish or cabbing home would be better than being near him for another second. You were scared about what he was going to say, what he was going to do, sure it would ruin both of your reputations, but you'd be damned if you stuck around to see what would come of it. Sure, he had run you a shower, sure, he had cooked dinner- shockingly well, but that's besides the point-, and sure, he had treated you with more respect and aftercare than most of your regrettable flings, but he was a priest and obviously that lead to some kind of guilt, or regret, or something. That completely negates any and all feelings that might have bloomed in the pit of your stomach thinking about what could potentially come out of that relationship, because there was no relationship. He was probably just doing it all to shut you up so you didn't blab, or maybe he had worse ulterior motives. He seemed sleazy, maybe he was just trying to get dirt so he could blackmail you.

But if that were the case, wouldn't have your confessions been enough ammo for him?

Sulking over your cup of coffee you had absentmindedly ordered, and admittedly didn't even want, you leaned back in the café chair, glancing out the window and across the street at the church doors, awaiting the emergence of your fellow Sunday goers. Part of you felt bad, maybe even a little guilty, putting your mom in a situation where she most likely had to apologize on your behalf, but you knew you'd get an earful for it the second you spoke with her again. You weren't sure if steeling yourself for that talk would prevent you from getting audibly frustrated though, so to avoid an immediate fight, you cabbed home, ignoring the barrage of texts and calls from your mom, dad, and close relatives. God knows this wouldn't be the first time you've disappeared on your family, and it probably won't be the last.

Since this wasn't your first rodeo, you ended up leaving an hour early for work every day to avoid unexpected morning guests, coming back at ungodly hours to avoid the beater coupe you knew was inevitably to be waiting for you in the drive if you got home any time before eleven at night. What else to do but spend your time at the local dive bar, specifically the dive bar because there was no chance in Hell any of your family, or their church-happy friends would set foot in there. Sometimes you came with coworkers, sometimes with friends, sometimes by yourself. It was all the same for you anyways, a distraction, something to occupy yourself with instead of coming face to face with the glaring issue that you were a coward unable to handle the conflicts and positions you put yourself in.

"Really, it's not that funny!" Your friend boasted, laughter erupting from the few bodies around the table, shaking you out of your thoughts. You let out a small, forced chuckle, cheeks heating at the fact you had completely missed the topic of conversation by being far too stuck in your head and feeling bad for yourself. Maybe the exhaustion of the past week had finally caught up with you.

"Be right back," You announced to no one in particular, not that anyone noticed anyways, pushing back from the table and making your way out the side door. Normally you would announce a smoke break, expecting the gaggle of people to join in for nothing if not the social aspect, but you had a feeling it would suffocate you right now.

A ding in your pocket got your attention as you sparked up a cigarette, pulling your phone out and staring at the unregistered number in your phone. It was hard to read, blinking a couple times to focus your doubling vision.

[unknown]: You didn't come to church today. You okay?

Scrunching your nose, you glance up at the bold clock on your front screen, the small "Sun" sitting underneath making you groan. Fuck, it was Sunday. And you missed church. And you haven't spoken to your mother in a week, because you had blocked her number. She was going to fucking kill you once she managed to get her hands on you. But that begged the question, who was trying to talk to you about going to church? You were more than certain no one that actually went to church was savvy enough with technology to know how to text, and the kids were too young to have phones in the first place.

[you]: Sorry yeah, who's this?

Thank God for auto correct, you muttered around your cigarette, clearly too tipsy to write out a legible sentence without help. You watched the message immediately come up as read, humming as you leaned back against the brick building, waiting for their response. Those three dots bounced, and bounced some more, before they disappeared. Furrowing your brows, you went to type out another text, before a call screen popped up. It was the same number, and considering they were trying to hound you about not attending your regular Sunday Service you were apprehensive to answer. Clearly, your alcohol riddled brain was much too curious to be put off by the potential of getting into a screaming match over the phone with whatever relative decided to contact the Family Disappointment.

"Hello? Who is this?" You muttered, pinching your half burned cigarette between your index and middle finger, removing it from your mouth so you could speak properly.

"Where are you? Are you okay?" The deep voice behind the receiver sounded vaguely familiar, but your brain was lagging too far behind to recall where you remembered hearing it.

"That's not how you play twenty-one questions," You mused, taking a drag from your cigarette, scrunching your nose and looking up when a droplet of water hit your nose, "I asked first."

"I'm not playing a game here, your mom has been worried sick-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, who is this? I can promise you, she isn't worried-"

"She has been in this church every fuckin' day, praying for you and cryin' her damn eyes out, and you don't think she's worried?" The growl into the receiver had your breath catching in your throat, the slow patter of rain increasing in intensity.

"Nicholas?" You whispered, standing up straight and wobbling on your feet. "How the fuck did you get my number?"

"I didn't- look, she gave it to me hoping I could talk some sense into you-"

Throwing your burnt out cigarette to the ground, you felt anger bubble up from the deepest pit of your gut. "Right. Got it. Well I hate to tell you this, but you're gonna have to tell her mission failed," You scoffed, opening up the side door to step inside. Immediately upon doing so, the blaring music from the jukebox in the corner assaulted your eardrums. "Sorry you don't get to be the big hero today, Mister Preacher Man."

Vaguely registering the call of your name before you thumbed the hang up button, swiping your phone screen to clear off the stray raindrops and block contact, you entered the bar again. Your hair was damp, the shoulders on your button-down a darker hue than the rest of your shirt. Muttering out a quiet fucking Christ, you shook your head, shoving your phone back in your pocket as you approached your table. Rounding the corner, you paused mid-step, staring at the empty chairs and stray empty glasses. Fucking assholes. Whatever, it wasn't like this was your first time drinking alone in this place. With how regularly you were coming by you were sure the recently posted AA Meeting poster up by the bathrooms must have been targeted at you, or at the very least a subtle jab.

Taking a seat at the bar, you settled your previous tab, resting your elbow on the counter and rubbing your hand over your face, then combing it back through your hair, messing up the damp tresses to stick out and point in every direction. The music paused as the jukebox plucked out a record, allowing you a moment of peace to sit and listen to the patter of rain on the window behind the bar. Once the next record began to play, you steeled yourself, patting your hands against the bar in a small beat and ordering your next drink. You wouldn't let your mother, or that fucking priest, get to you. It was about time you put your foot down and stopped bending over backwards to partake in that stupid culty shit anyways. Your thoughts were interrupted by the slide of a glass in your direction, which you accepted with a small nod of appreciation, nursing it between your hands for a quick moment before tipping it back.

It was a Sunday, it was a work night, you were a responsible adult with a responsible adult job and responsible adult obligations. Which is why you were groaning into your hands as the room spun, having had maybe one or... six too many drinks. Really, you had lost count, the only record of how much you drank would be the negative numbers in your bank account screaming at you when you checked in the morning. Another problem you would simply put off for the time being, not wanting to look at the glaringly obvious issues you were causing yourself. It was fine, everything would be fine. Tilting your wrist to look at the time on your watch, you muttered a quiet fuck, not seeming to realize you'd gotten to the point you couldn't even read a digital clock. You let out a pathetic, inquisitive sound when another glass was slid in your direction- when did you even order this? Regardless, you shrugged to yourself, moving to wrap a hand around the drink, before it was snatched up from in front of you. An offended noise left your lips, in the middle of making an accusatory remark as you glanced at the person beside you stealing your drink.

Maybe it was the fact you were heavily intoxicated, or maybe it was the fact you had never seen him in semi-casual clothes that didn't resemble post-sex pajamas, but you found yourself having to blink dumbly for a beat or two before scrunching your face in irritation at the scornful look you were receiving. Admittedly he looked good, the top three buttons of his grey shirt undone, his black jacket hanging heavy and wet on his shoulders. His hair was just as soaked, more wet than you thought should be appropriate, considering the walk from the parking lot to the front door was a matter of seconds if you were in a rush to get out of the rain.

"The fuck are you doing here?" You slurred, running your hand over your face for the umpteenth time that evening, hoping it would help sober you up enough to engage in this conversation.

"How much have you had to drink?" Wolfwood asked, nodding at the bartender and tossing some cash on the counter. All you did was scoff and roll your eyes.

"You're really bad at this game," You stated matter-of-factly, earning a questioning raise of his brow. After letting him sit on it for a moment, you rolled your eyes, tapping a hand against the wooden counter. "Twenty-one questions," You elaborated, earning a sigh from the taller man that made you grin.

He didn't say anything, tipping back the drink and finishing it in one go. It was probably because you were drunk, but watching him tilt his head back, exposing the column of his throat had you biting at the inside of your cheek. "Alright, let's go," He slammed the glass back on the counter, placing an arm around you, hand settling on your waist as he heaved you off your barstool. You protested, or at least tried to, until you were tumbling into his side, and suddenly the idea of getting yourself home seemed like an impossible feat. "You're a hot mess, kid. Is this what you've been doing all week?"

"Mmm, more or less," You didn't have the energy to fight with him about the infantilizing term of endearment, or his jab, simply leaning your head on his arm as the room spun around you, offering you respite for only seconds before everything began to move again. As if to make matters worse, the second you walked through the front doors with him, a heavy onslaught of rain immediately dampened your hair and clothes again, thick droplets soaking you to the core and running down your face as Wolfwood helped you walk your way to the parking lot around the building. Every time you tripped, you laughed, the less than amused grumble your dark-haired savior emitted making you laugh even harder. What should have been a thirty second walk turned into a five minute struggle, eventually resulting in you being leaned up against a bright red four-door. You stuck your lip out, snickering as he fiddled with the keys and opened the door for you.

"Red doesn't seem like your color," You teased, resting your head on the car with a dull thud. Wolfwood pried the door open, holding it with his knee as he reached for you, guiding you into the passenger seat. His palms were warm, scorching your skin through your freezing cold, wet clothes. A shiver ran up your spine as you plunked down in your seat, throwing your head back and gazing up at him dumbly.

"Ain't my car," He stated, reaching over your body and buckling you in. He smelled like sandalwood and cigarettes, the scent alone reminding you of your rendezvous in the confessional. You groaned, more to yourself than anything, as he pulled back and slammed the door shut behind him. You slumped in the seat, hands coming up to your soaked shirt and peeling it away from your body slightly, only to have it stick right back when you let go. The car jiggled as Wolfwood climbed in the drivers site, making you sway with the motion. He buckled himself in, sticking the key in the ignition, turning the engine over. You glanced over at him, lazily eyeing him up and down, making note of the tight clench of the muscles in his jaw and the white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. When he turned to shoulder check, he met your eyes, caught in your half lidded stare. Too out of your mind to even try salvaging what little of your dignity you had left, or make an excuse, all you did was grin, fingers plucking away the wet shirt from your body once again.

"What's your address?" Wolfwood spoke evenly, calm, but there was an irritated lilt at the end that made you drunkenly snicker at him.

"Ohhh, why do you want my address you weirdo? Gonna sneak in while I'm sleeping and f-"

"It's so I can bring you home," Wolfwood interrupted, turning his gaze away as he pulled out of the parking lot, "Don't be an idiot."

"Jussayin', you seem the type," You quipped, leaning your head up against the glass window, watching the rain trails scatter and jump as the car sped up. "Not like I would mind."

"You- Christ, give me your damn address."

"Oh, you're going to Hell now! Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain! Bad priest," You tutted, wagging your finger at him in jest as you slid in your seat around a turn, your head bobbing and body swaying with every small movement.

"Fine," Wolfwood grumbled, turning his grip on the wheel and speeding the car up, "Have it your way."

An indignant noise meant to mock him left your throat, forgetting why you were even bickering in the first place. The drive was short, much shorter than you anticipated it would be, but you chalked it up to possibly not remembering half the ride. Squinting your eyes as he put the car in park, you glanced around at the surrounding street lights, not finding your immediate area as familiar as you should. God, how fucked up were you? Wolfwood shut off the car, hopping out and slamming his door shut behind him. Trying your best to track him with your eyes in the rear view mirror, you watched him loop the car, coming around to your side and yanking the door open. You'd like to say the act itself gave off that he was irritated, but really you couldn't tell, or care. For just a moment, he stood holding the door open, staring down at you as you lolled your head back, grinning defiantly at him. He was soaked, hair dripping and button-down clinging to his torso.

"Fuckin' ridiculous," He muttered, leaning down and over you, unbuckling your seatbelt.

It was probably because you were drunk, or at least that's the excuse you would use if you were interrogated about it, but the smell of him paired with the proximity was making you lightheaded and nauseous. You were agitated, agitated by him showing up unannounced, agitated by him stealing your drink, and agitated that he seemed to so easily let go of him fucking you stupid on his living room couch. You were annoyed, so annoyed that you couldn't help but curl a fist into the collar of his shirt, couldn't help but tug him down to your level and clash your lips into his with nettled irritation that definitely didn't translate properly into your actions, if the warm hand on your waist was to speak any truths. To your surprise, he met your fervor, quickly turning your boldness around on you as he pushed into you, the back of your skull hitting the headrest as your mouth was pried open with his tongue. Just as quickly as the kiss had started, it ended, him being the first to jolt back and peer down at you with a conflicted gaze.

"Jesus Christ," Wolfwood shook his head, wrapping a hand around your bicep and helping you out of the car. You wish you weren't vividly aware of the disappointment practically dripping off of him.

Before you could quip some smartass comment about The Lord, he was throwing his jacket over your head and slamming the car door behind you. The arm around your shoulders holding you against him kept you steady despite the uneven gravel ground, the urgency in which he rushed you across the park and up a set of concrete stairs probably more for his own sake than yours, considering you were (mostly) shielded from the onslaught of unforgiving weather conditions. A hand came up, grasping the collar of the jacket thrown over your head and pulling up so you could watch where he was taking you to, presumably, dump your body. Upon seeing the massive wooden doors and stained glass windows only moderately illuminated by a faint orange flickering light inside, you dug your heels into the ground, trying and obviously failing to redirect the route in which Wolfwood was dragging you. Instead, you toppled over, tripping over yourself and colliding face-first into the hardwood door in front of you. You weren't able to register the frantic curse that came from the man beside you, too busy slapping a hand over your nose and mouth as you slid down to your knees, only removing your hand briefly to see the blood pooling into your palm.

"What the f- shit, are you okay? What was that?" Wolfwood scrambled, crouching next to you, a hand hovering over your back, the other hesitating beside the forearm belonging to the hand firmly clasped over your face. All you could do was stare at the ground as your surroundings spun, watching rivulets of red drop and disperse, diluting on the wet ground below. "Hey, kid-"

"Don't," You said firmly into your palm, taking your hand away and swaying back, his black jacket falling off your shoulders and onto the ground as you looked up, pinching the bridge of your aching nose to stop the bleeding.

"I can't," You confessed after a moment or two, eyes scrunching closed, "I can't go back in there, Nick." The name felt distant, given that you hadn't called him anything but Father in nearly a month.

"The hell are you talking about?"

"You and I both know you're not that stupid," You tilted your head, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, blood leaking down your chin and dripping into your mouth as you spoke. The copper taste was bitter, but did a fantastic job at sobering you up some. Or, maybe it was the throbbing pain in your face and ache in your chest, it was hard to tell at this point. "I think it's better for both of us if you stopped pretending to care so much when no one is watching."

All he did was stare, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line for a beat or two, before his hands were grabbing under your arms and scooping you up from the ground. You let him, any fight you could've put up long gone once tears began to sting your eyes, from the physical or emotional aspect you weren't quite certain. Once he got you standing, he snatched up his sopping jacket, throwing it over his shoulder and wrapping an arm firmly around your waist, pushing open one of the double doors and ushering you through. The arm around your waist, his rushed steps, the twists and turns down the halls you had only seen once before gave you deja vu, a wall of nausea hitting you like a ton of bricks as he helped you through the door to his living quarters. You followed wordlessly after he closed the door behind him, dragging you in the direction of his bathroom, before he was unceremoniously dropping you down to sit on the edge of the tub.

The silence was deafening, your ears ringing after every small noise as he rummaged about in the wall mounted mirror cabinet. Snatching out a couple packages and a roll of medical tape, Wolfwood turned to you, crouching before you as he dropped the supplies he'd gathered on the toilet lid beside him. You watched with your eyes, body unmoving, offering him a quick glance.

"'S not very sanitary," You teased, but it was devoid of any wit or good-natured ridicule your tone usually held when taking jabs at him. He noticed this, continuing to say nothing as he gripped your jaw in the palm of his hand, turning your head to one side, then the other, as he examined your nose. This gave you ample time to gauge his expression, and even with your alcohol riddled mind, you could see the tension in his jaw as he clenches his teeth, could see the slight downturn of his lips as he ripped open a paper package, lining the thin cotton material up at the bridge of your nose, ripping a piece of medical tape from the roll with his teeth to set the gauze in place.

"Isn't broken, you're lucky," Wolfwood finally spoke up, balling up a thick wad of cotton and dousing it with saline, wiping up the blood from your nose, lips, and chin. His hands were surprisingly gentle, only making you wince when he secured the gauze with a second piece of tape to ensure it wasn't going anywhere. "Might be an ugly bruise though."

Tossing the used materials in the tiny garbage, he heaved a sigh, resting the palms of his hands on his thighs as he leaned side to side, inspecting his handiwork for a moment. You sat in uncomfortable silence, the chill of your soaking wet clothes making goosebumps erupt on your skin as you suppressed a shiver. Wolfwood stood, stepping out of the room and leaving you to sit with your own thoughts which was never a good thing, your eyes falling to the floor as you brought a hand up, wiping the heel of your palm down the side of your face. The quiet slap of your hand hitting your sopping wet pant leg echoed through the tiled room, not a second later your equally- if not more- drenched companion was emerging from the hall, the same pants and shirt that he had let you borrow last time in hand. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed at the fact he kept them in the opaque white plastic bag you returned them in, "donation" scribbled in crude sharpie on the side.

He dropped the bag onto the toilet lid, turning and leaving the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him. You waited, fingers gripping the edge of the tub like your life depended on it when he paused just before the door shut.

"You got it backwards," Wolfwood spoke low, hand twisting the door knob in his grip, "I don't pretend to care when people aren't around. I pretend I don't care when people are around."

You were certain nothing good would come out of you mulling over that thought for too long, so you distracted yourself with getting changed, putting your disgustingly wet clothes in the plastic bag you previously brought his clothes in. Snatching up one of the towels hanging beside the shower, you toweled off your hair, tousling it a bit before smoothing it out with your fingers. At least now it was only damp instead of completely saturated. Scooping your phone up from the counter and being met with nothing but a black screen, you grumbled lowly, carelessly letting it clatter back into it's previous position and pulling open the door. Surprised to see a freshly changed Wolfwood on the other side, arms crossed and leaned back against the wall, cigarette hanging from his lips, you blinked up at him. Much as he had done before, he nudged his head to point down the hall, before setting off, leading you just a few doors down to a bedroom, his bedroom, you presumed.

Not surprisingly, the space more reflected the life of a bachelor more so than a priest, clothes strewn about beside a basket as if he couldn't be bothered to properly place them inside, a couple empty scotch glasses on the nightstand. If it wasn't for the massive intricate stained glass window directly behind the bed you would have thought it was just an average older house, the white walls with the occasional wood panel running up the wall giving no particular out of the ordinary or holy aura. You tried and failed to not pay attention to the more dubious items on the opposite nightstand, consisting of a half-empty bottle of lube and scrunched up tissues, quickly averting your eyes as he cleared his throat and nudged past you to tidy up a bit. Unsure what to do with yourself, you shoved your hands in your pockets, shifting your weight from side to side and staring up at the ceiling until he was giving you a verbal cue that you could welcome yourself into the space.

"Don't have a guest room," Wolfwood tossed the bit of garbage he had collected into a small plastic waste bin, words muffled around his cigarette, "Got plenty of rooms, just not another bed. You can take mine tonight."

Swallowing at the implication, you dared a glance in his direction as you spoke, watching him pluck up some clothes from the floor. "I can take the couch. I have to wake up early anyways, so..." The thought in itself gave you a headache, getting up stupid early so you could cab home and get changed and get yourself to work when it was already an ungodly hour and you were still tipsy. "Honestly I should probably go home-"

"Stay."

You blinked, watching him stand to his full height again, glancing over his shoulder at you. The way his gaze seemed to harden upon making eye contact made you nervous, like somehow he was managing to look right through you and your excuses, giving no room to weasel your way out of your present position. Throwing his clothes in the hamper, Wolfwood stood in place, mimicking your position and crossing his arms, the cherry on his cigarette burning dangerously low to the filter, ash falling off and onto the hardwood below. "You'll stay for the night, I'll get you to work in the morning. Got it?" His tone was firm, and all you could do was stare and nod, earning a similar response in return. "Alright, good."

After holding eye contact for maybe a couple moments too long, he looked away from you, not meeting your eye again even as he walked past you. Watching his hand raise, hover above your shoulder, before falling back to his side, eyes tailing him as he walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving you to yourself and your thoughts again.

Unsure what to do with your mind or body, you took a deep breath, crossing your arms over your chest and tucking your hands into your underarms, staring at the floor in front of you. Finally gathering the courage, you shuffled forwards, climbing onto the bed and laying your head down on what was possibly the least comfortable pillow you'd ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. Discomfort was quickly set aside when all you could smell was him, and suddenly you were chastising yourself for being foolish enough to think you could have willed yourself into having any other reaction that wasn't reddened, ruddy cheeks and a half-hard cock jumping in your borrowed sweats. Not when you were surrounded by him, not when you closed your eyes all you could see was the way he fucked into your throat, or how he bit into your neck, or how he gripped your hips so hard he left round shaped bruises that perfectly matched the pads of his fingers. It was like you could still feel the hand gripping your jaw, the fingers pushing into your mouth, and the warm press of his chest against your arched back.

Throwing a hand over your eyes, you grit your teeth, palming over the growing tent in your pants and emitting a low, quiet whine, and instantly you knew what you could do wouldn't be nearly enough, not when your alcohol addled mind was showing you nothing but lewd imagery of the man just a room or two over, memories playing relentlessly like a movie behind your eyelids. Heaving a sigh, you slapped your arm down onto the bed, pushing yourself up and onto your feet, and carrying yourself out of the room. You didn't care that you flung the door open so hard it banged against the wall, the loud noise echoing off the tacky ornate cross-ridden walls and bouncing off ridiculously high ceilings, didn't care that as you came down the hall it looked like Wolfwood was already comfy and getting ready to sleep, didn't care that as you approached he asked you what you were doing. All you cared about was the flex of his forearms as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, throwing your leg over his lap to straddle him, and crushing your lips into his in a desperate, messy kiss. All you cared about was the hand weaving through your hair, settling on the back of your head, and the tongue pushing into your lips begging for more.

Religion was a mess, people justifying discourse and hate as the word of God. But, you were just as messy, so maybe God, and Wolfwood, could eventually forgive you for fucking up your life just a little bit more.

#nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #nicholas d wolfwood x reader smut #wolfwood x reader #trigun x reader smut #trigun x reader

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foundtherightwords · 10 months

Text

Same Streets, New Memories

Pairing: Eddie x Chrissy (No Vecna/No Upside Down AU)

Summary: Sixteen years after he got his diploma and ran like hell out of Hawkins, Eddie is forced to return home. Disappointed and disillusioned, he broods over his past failures, until a chance meeting with a certain former Queen of Hawkins High puts things into perspective for him.

A/N: This is mostly inspired by the song I Finally Love This Town by Tired Pony. Also, I've seen a lot of "rock star Eddie" fics, so I wanted to explore the opposite of that - what if he never made it big at all?

Warnings: angst (quarter-life crisis stuff - they're all in their mid-30s though, is that too late for a quarter-life crisis?), mentions of drug dealing, drug use, and drinking, some violence

Word count: 6.5k

"Hawkins!" the driver called out amidst the hissing of the brakes, jolting Eddie from the stupor he'd sank into since the Greyhound left Indianapolis. He sat up in his seat and rubbed his aching neck, trying to suppress a groan. Sometimes he'd forgotten he could no longer fall asleep in any position and wake up just fine. For one thing, he wasn't nineteen anymore; for another, all those years spent pretzeled up into all sorts of shapes in the van, on the floor, or on the couch of anyone kind enough to let him crash at their place, were catching up with him.

The bus door clunked open, and Eddie stepped off, blinking in the watery spring sun. It took him a while to recognize that Hawkins' Greyhound station was still in the same place—the parking lot of Palace Arcade and Family Video—because Family Video had been taken over by a Blockbuster, while a Starbucks had replaced the Palace.

It had been sixteen years since he left, and he wasn't prepared for the changes. They say you can never go home again. But what if the place had never felt like home in the first place?

He was one of the few that got off the bus. There were no familiar faces among the passengers or those that came to pick them up. All the better. He didn't want to see anyone he knew.

Hoisting his bag over his shoulder and picking up his guitar case, Eddie trudged toward Forest Hills Trailer Park. It was early March, yet the air was already muggy, even more uncomfortably so after the cool dryness of Los Angeles, and he ran an irritable hand through his fizzy hair, again regretting his decision to come home. Well, what were his options? Stay in LA and work some shitty job with shitty pay that couldn't even afford him a shitty apartment, or return to Hawkins and work some shitty job with shitty pay, but at least he could stay with Wayne in their shitty trailer so he could save money on rent? The second one was an obvious choice, even if it made his insides shrivel up in shame every time he paused long enough to think about it. The prodigal freak of Hawkins, slinking home with his tail between his legs... It'll be OK, he told himself without conviction. Humiliation rarely causes death.

As he walked through Hawkins, Eddie noticed all the changes in the landscape and the people, some subtle, some obvious, but changes nonetheless. Compared to the constant flux of LA, Hawkins seemed older, more tired, the people wearing a harsher look on their faces. He wondered how much of the changes came from himself.

At the turnoff, he almost collided with some spotty-faced kids rolling past on their skateboards. "Watch it, old man!" one of them yelled. The word stung. Eddie thought about giving them a piece of his mind, but thought better of it once he got a closer look at them. Jesus, did he ever look that young? He must have. And thirty-six is not old. Yet, watching those kids, with their frosted tips and the hems of their jeans dragging in the dust, he felt ancient, like Rip Van Winkle returning from his twenty-year-long sleep in the mountains.

But that feeling waned, the closer he got to the trailer. In fact, by the time he pushed open the door, it was as if no time had passed at all, and he was ten years old, getting dropped off by Hopper after Al got arrested yet again. By that point, Eddie had gotten used to staying with Wayne whenever his old man got into trouble, and neither of them had noticed when that particular stay had extended from days into weeks into months and finally years.

The trailer was a time capsule. There was the prehistoric TV by the door, the old faded rug on the floor, the cramped, messy kitchen. All the mugs and hats he'd given Wayne for Christmases and birthdays still lined the walls. It had started sort of as a joke one Christmas, when Eddie first started living with Wayne and couldn't think of a present for him. He had found a Garfield mug and bought it with the little money he had. Wayne had laughed upon opening it and given it the place of honor on the shelf over the TV. And so for Wayne's birthday next year, Eddie had bought him another mug, and another for Christmas, occasionally throwing in a hat just to keep Wayne on his toes, until it had become a tradition and Wayne had to put up new shelves around the living room for the mugs.

Eddie still remembered the Christmas he'd given Wayne a "World's Best Dad" mug.

"I'm sorry, they didn't have a 'World's Best Uncle' one," he'd mumbled apologetically. Wayne had said nothing, only clearing his throat and giving Eddie a tight hug.

And there was Wayne himself. Eddie looked at his uncle with sadness. When had Wayne become so worn out? Ever since Eddie knew him, he had seemed to have been born old, always of some undetermined age between forty-five and sixty, yet full of a quiet energy that never went out. Now, slumped in the rocking chair in front of the droning TV, he looked shrunk, a tired old man. Guilt pricked at Eddie's insides. He'd promised himself the first thing he'd do when Corroded Coffin got big was to get Wayne out of the trailer park and into a decent house, and not only had he failed, but he also had to ask Wayne to take him back.

Eddie sighed and gave Wayne's shoulder a gentle shake. The old man opened his eyes, blinking at his nephew.

"You're home," he said, as if Eddie had just left the previous day.

Eddie wondered if he'd ever really felt at home anywhere. Here, in this rundown trailer, with his gruff but kind uncle, was probably the closest he'd ever gotten. "Yeah," he said simply. "I'm home."

***

Eddie got a job as a bartender at the Hideout.

He suspected that Lenny, the owner, gave him the job for old times' sake more than anything, but it suited him just fine. It meant he got to go to work when most of the townspeople were already on their way home, so fewer chances of running into people he knew. Besides, those that knew him and might mock him didn't usually frequent the Hideout.

It didn't pay that well, and Eddie wondered if the idea of raising enough money to self-produce and release the next Corroded Coffin album was even plausible. He briefly considered dealing again. But even back in high school, he had never made much money from it, mostly just enough to buy a new record now and then. And he couldn't risk getting arrested. Plus, even if he wanted to, he wouldn't even know where to begin now.

"I had to get out, man," said Reefer Rick, when Eddie dropped by his house on Lover's Lake one afternoon. "Kids these days, they're so much tougher. Cannier. And they deal with the hard stuff. I couldn't keep up. I had this place. I had a nice bit of money put away. So I got out while I could." Rick was well on his way to middle age now, spending most of the time sitting on the porch drinking or even fishing on the lake, like those bozos they used to make fun of back in the day, and, oddly enough, he seemed content. Eddie envied him that.

Rick was one of the few old friends that Eddie saw. Eddie found his initial fear about running into people he knew laughable now, because there was almost no one left. All his friends from high school had moved away. His bandmates, Jeff and Grant, had gone to LA with him after graduation, but Gareth, who'd graduated a year later, never made it. "Sorry, man, my mom wants me to stay close," he'd said. They had found a replacement for him, but it was never quite the same.

One Sunday, Eddie ran into Gareth at the store. Gareth recognized him first, and no wonder—Gareth's hair was now cropped short, making his cherubic face look tired and much older than his thirty-three years.

"Holy shit, man, when did you get back?" he asked, giving Eddie a bear hug.

"Gareth, language!" hissed the woman holding a baby, standing just behind them at the check-out line.

"Sorry, hun," Gareth muttered and gave Eddie an embarrassed grin.

They caught up at the Hideout that night. Eddie was relieved to be able to unload to Gareth all about the band's struggle, as he knew no one else would understand. Gareth was understanding, but Eddie couldn't help feeling that his old friend was congratulating himself for not following them to LA and subjecting himself to such hardship. A boring life with a boring job and a boring wife in boring Hawkins was preferable to that. And then Gareth's pager beeped and he excused himself to get home because his wife needed help with the baby, and that was that.

The rest of Eddie's Hellfire buddies, all those lost sheep he'd taken under his wings, were gone too. Henderson was in MIT, working on his PhD. He still sent Eddie a Christmas card every year. Byers, the only one who could rival Eddie as a DM, was in California after Mrs. Byers and Hopper got married and moved the whole clan there, but they were in San Bernardino or somewhere, and Eddie never ran into them in LA. Wheeler had also gone to school there—he was dating Hopper's daughter at the time, if Eddie remembered correctly—and stayed. Sinclair, who had turned out better than Eddie had expected, given his association with the jocks, was working in Indianapolis. They had all done well for themselves.

So perhaps it was a good thing that they weren't here to see their fallen leader.

***

But not everyone left Hawkins. Some stayed. And sometimes, those who stayed were the fucking worst.

It was a usual night at the Hideout, with the regular crowd of five drunks. Nobody paid attention to the band, some lame punk cover act. Eddie wanted to feel bad for the band, remembering that Corroded Coffin had once been in their shoes, but he couldn't muster up the sympathy. Looking at their carefully ripped clothes and perfectly coifed hair, he knew this was just a hobby for them, a pastime to make themselves look cool, and could be easily left behind when they went back to the safety of their parents' houses and their cushy little lives. Then he caught himself and shook his head. Jesus, when did he become so bitter?

A group of men burst through the door, their raucous shouts and laughter putting an end to his dark thoughts. Eddie barely glanced at them. He'd seen enough of those, both in the few weeks he'd been working at the bar and back when he was playing here with Corroded Coffin. Suburban dads, most of them, out on their allotted once-per-week guys' night. Bored with the usual, they decided to check out the Hideout as the most underground place Hawkins had to offer. Ha. They wouldn't know underground even if they woke up buried in a six-foot grave.

Silently, he filled their orders and gave them to Trish, the server. She was one of the new hires—just out of school, barely old enough to be working at a bar—so Eddie made it a point to watch out for her when he could. "You'll be OK with those?" he asked, indicating the men sitting in their booth.

"Nothing I haven't seen before," she replied, though her face was grim.

The group stayed for a long time. As the night went on, they became louder, more obnoxious, and the grim set of Trish's mouth started to waver. She tried to act tough, but she was just a kid, really, and she was no match for those men.

After Trish brought the men their third rounds of tequila shots, Eddie heard a yell coming from the booth. "Get your hand off me!" It was Trish. She was grappling with one of the men, who was holding her by the waist, trying to pull her into the booth with him.

Eddie looked around. The band was gone, having finished their sets more than half an hour ago. Lenny wasn't even in. With a sigh, Eddie left the bar and approached the booth.

"Do we have a problem here?" he said.

"Damn right we do," said the man holding Trish. "You'd better teach your staff to be friendlier to the customers!"

"They are friendly. To those who can keep their hands to themselves," Eddie said, taking Trish's hand and pulling her up. She gave him a grateful look and scurried to the back.

The man got unsteadily to his feet. "Watch your fucking mouth," he snarled, giving Eddie a shove.

Eddie seized the man's wrist. "What did I say about keeping your hands to yourself?"

The man winced, and his friends glanced at each other, worried. "Fuck," the man said. Then he took a closer look at Eddie, and his eyes popped. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed. "Munson? Eddie 'The Freak' Munson?"

Eddie's stomach dropped, and his grip on the man's wrist loosened. He stared back at the man. Square jaws, a low forehead, and small, arrogant eyes. Loathing stirred his memories. His mind's eye added a letterman jacket and a baseball hat, and the man's features solidified. One of Jason Carver's cronies from the basketball team. What was his name?

The man's mouth lifted in a mocking smile. "Well, well, well. What happened to 'fuck this town', Munson?"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Eddie said, ignoring the question.

"What are you going to do, kick me out?"

"Yes."

The others exchanged glances again, and Eddie was aware of how he looked in their eyes—a tall, intimidating guy in a leather jacket. Someone you don't want to mess with. One of them put his hand on the square-jawed man's shoulder. "Come on, Andy." Andy. That was it.

Andy jerked his shoulder away. "Don't let this freak scare you. All bark and no bite, aren't you, Munson?" he said, grinning at Eddie. "Just like in high school."

Eddie tried to swallow the hot gust of anger rising to his throat. "My bark is actually worse," he said evenly. "If you refuse to leave, I'm going to call the police."

Andy's friends had had enough. "Let's go, man. It's getting late anyway."

They filed out of the booth, throwing down money as they went. Andy still stared at Eddie, his already small eyes narrowed into angry slits, while his friends dragged him away.

***

After the bar closed, Eddie made sure that Trish was picked up by her boyfriend. It was four in the morning by the time he finished cleaning up and locking the door. As he walked through the parking lot that was still steeped in darkness, a voice called out, "Munson!"

Eddie turned around. It was Andy, standing by a car. What the hell?

"You really humiliated me tonight, you know that?" Andy said. By the slurring of his voice, his drinking hadn't stopped after he left the Hideout.

"You must have a really fragile ego, if that was enough to humiliate you," Eddie said, continuing to walk.

"Don't act all high and mighty with me, freak," Andy growled. "You were nothing in high school, and you're nothing now."

A haze of red came over Eddie's eyes, but he tried to keep it in check as he turned around.

"Hey man, I don't know what your problem is—" he began, but before he could finish, a fist landed on his cheek. Since said fist belonged to a guy who wasn't even standing straight, it didn't hurt much, but the surprise threw Eddie off his balance. Andy used the momentum to grab Eddie's shoulder and yank him down. Eddie's face collided with the car's side-view mirror.

Dazed, Eddie sat on the ground and touched his cheek. It stung where the mirror cut him, and his fingers came away wet with blood.

The haze of red slammed over his eyes again.

He jumped up and lunged at Andy.

What followed was a blur of punches, some connecting, either with flesh or metal, but most didn't. The more he missed, the angrier Eddie got. As if this bastard hadn't made his life miserable enough back in high school, he had to come to his work and attacked him as well. And for what? For ruining his night out with his buddies? As far as Eddie could see, Andy was doing a pretty good job of that himself.

Finally, Eddie had Andy by his neck against the car.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" he roared.

"Fuck you, fucking freak!" Andy spat out.

Suddenly the fight went out of Eddie. What the hell were they doing, two grown men having a pathetic drunken brawl over some imagined animosity nearly twenty years ago? He let go. Andy sank to the ground, and Eddie staggered away.

***

His cheek throbbing, Eddie found his way into the woods surrounding Hawkins. He couldn't let Wayne see him in this state. Better to walk off some steam and come up with some excuse before facing his uncle.

At this hour, the sun was not up yet, but it was no longer pitch dark. The woods lay silent under a cold gray half-light that sapped everything of color and life. The only sound was the squishing of the wet, dead leaves of many winters under his feet, and the only movement, other than his own, was the drip-drip-drip of water, either rain or dew, from the new buds onto his head. Irritated, he reached up to rub the wetness out of his scalp, and winced as he accidentally touched the cut on his face.

He shouldn't have let Andy get to him. The encounter left a sour taste in his mouth and a heavy weight, like a lead ball, in his guts. It wasn't simply anger or shame, or rather, it wasn't his usual shame of being a failure. It was the shame of feeling like he and Andy were similar. He hated the idea that he could have something in common with that jerk, but there it was. It was like they were still teenagers, ready to use their fists at the merest hint of an offense, always trying to prove themselves, trying to be cooler than this or that person. Eddie thought he'd grown out of that high school mentality, but apparently not. It only took coming back to Hawkins, being amongst these people, to bring out that aggressive side of him.

Perhaps coming home was a mistake.

A rustling made him look up. It was light enough now for him to glimpse, through the trees, a figure in a tracksuit, a jogger, a woman, blond hair bobbing along with her steps, running toward him. Shit. He didn't want to run into anyone, especially not right now, skulking through the woods with dry blood down his face and caked on his knuckles. They'd think he was a serial killer or something.

Eddie whirled around, trying to blend into the trees before he and the jogger crossed paths. A branch smacked him in the face, blinding him, making him lose his footing. He took a stumbling step back. The embankment he was standing on, already weak from the endless rain of the past week, gave way, and before he knew it, Eddie was plummeting down a slope, dead branches and rocks scratching at his face and arms as he went.

For a moment, he lay sprawled at the bottom of the slope, blinking up at the green dome above him, too stunned to move.

Then a face appeared in his view. A woman's face, full of concern.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Then the concern on her face slowly dissipated, replaced by surprise and recognition.

"Eddie Munson, as I live and breathe," she said. "I almost didn't recognize you with that beard." When Eddie didn't answer, she gave him a teasing smile. "Don't you remember me?" She extended a hand to help him up.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could sink into the earth and disappear right there and then. But when the trees remained above him, and the musty earth remained underneath him, he had no choice but to accept the helping hand and get to his feet.

"Hi, Chrissy," he said.

***

Chrissy Cunningham. The last person he'd want to run into, especially in his current state.

Though her hair was shorter and held back with a headband instead of pulled into a ponytail, she still looked exactly as he remembered, as she had in high school, those wide blue eyes, that bright smile showing a hint of her crooked front teeth. Next to her, Eddie felt like a tramp. Probably looked like a tramp too.

"You OK?" she asked, taking in his bedraggled and bloodied appearance.

"Uh, yeah."

"That's a nasty cut right there," she said, pointing to his elbow. It was only then that Eddie felt the searing pain. He must've snatched it on a rock or a broken branch. "You should get that cleaned up, or it'll get infected." Without waiting for an answer, she took his other elbow and guided him up the other side of the slope. "Let me go grab a first-aid kit from school, and I can take care of that for you."

"What school?"

Chrissy stared at him. "Hawkins High, of course."

"Are we that close?"

"Don't you recognize this part of the woods?"

They were up on the opposite side of the slope now, and Eddie saw an old picnic table and bench set, all rusty and weather-beaten, by a tree stump that stood like a sentinel over the place. He immediately recognized it. He must've been too pissed off about his encounter with Andy to realize where he was walking.

"Wait here," Chrissy said. "I'll be back in a minute."

As she jogged off, Eddie thought about running away himself. But that would be ridiculous. She'd already seen him. How embarrassing would it be if she came back and found out he'd ran away like some coward? Besides, the fall had left him too sore to move. He gingerly sat down on one of the benches, afraid it would collapse from his weight, and cast a look around. Back in his schooldays, this had been the hangout for the stoners and the burnouts, and there had always been some empty beer cans and cigarette stubs scattered about. Now add to that some old needles, and he could've sworn he saw a used condom too. Jesus. Even this place had gone to the dogs.

What twist of fate had sent him here, and into the path of Chrissy Cunningham, of all people?

Of all the drug spots in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine...

Before he could contemplate that, Chrissy was back, bringing with her a first-aid kit. "So when did you get back?" she asked, lifting Eddie's elbow and cleaning the wound with practiced hands.

"A few weeks ago," Eddie replied, trying not to hiss at the sting of the rubbing alcohol.

"Are you just visiting? You're some big rock star out on the West Coast now, aren't you?"

Eddie was glad that her face was bent over his elbow, so she couldn't see the half-downcast, half-furtive look on his face. But his honesty won out. "Hardly," he mumbled. "Our albums sold like twenty copies each, and I think Jeff's mom—you know Jeff, right?—I think his mom bought most of them." He chuckled to show that he was joking, and Chrissy smiled back.

"I'd love to have a listen," she said. He knew she was just saying that to be polite, but it didn't stop butterflies from fluttering in his stomach. "I know it's not the same as seeing you guys live..." She lifted her eyes briefly to his face, before looking down again. "I always regret not making it to one of your shows at the Hideout, you know."

Eddie stared at her bent head, not knowing what to say. Being here with her and talking about Corroded Coffin and the Hideout brought back memories of another day in March, sixteen years ago. Back then, he'd felt, if not on top of the world, then at least pretty near it.

And that night... if he hadn't felt on top of the world that afternoon when he made Chrissy Cunningham laugh, then he'd certainly felt it that night.

It felt just like yesterday, the two of them driving back to his trailer after the successful conclusion of his Cult of Vecna campaign, trying the Special K, and then just staying up and talking. He couldn't remember what they'd talked about. All he remembered was a sense of... not happiness, exactly, but contentment, and it wasn't because of the Special K. No, it was because Chrissy had been there and she'd felt safe with him, and he with her.

He had never asked why she'd wanted to try the Special K. Later, as he drove her home, she'd asked him to drop her off a little further away so she could walk to her front door, and he'd guessed the reason, but hadn't pressed her about it.

"Sure, no problem," he'd only said, watching the way she twisted her fingers in her lap and fighting the urge to reach out, to put his hand over hers, and tell her everything would be alright. "I'll stay here and keep watch until you're inside."

She'd said thank and leaned over, perhaps to plant a kiss on his cheek, but at the same time, he'd turned his head to tell her "You're welcome", and the kiss had landed on his mouth instead. They'd both jolted back, embarrassed, only to be drawn back toward each other, inexorably, irresistibly, until her lips had found his again, deliberately this time. He still remembered the softness of her mouth, the taste of her lip gloss, the way she'd melted into his arms as he pulled her close...

He should've known it was too good to be true.

Queens of Hawkins High don't go around kissing freaks.

Chrissy had pulled away from him abruptly, ran out of his van, and disappeared into the night. When they got back to school after spring break, she'd actively avoided him.

Looking back, he realized that had been the first in the long string of disappointments that was to be his life for the following sixteen years.

And now here she was, talking as if nothing had happened.

It still stung, but he tried not to let it show.

"I didn't know you were in town," he said, changing the subject.

"Oh, I moved back a couple of years ago."

That surprised him. After leaving Hawkins, he'd tried hard not to think about Chrissy, but when he did, usually after some heavy drinking or after a late gig, when he felt particularly lonely, he'd imagined that she was leading a perfect life somewhere. Moving back to this shithole didn't seem that perfect.

And if she was here and Jason wasn't, that meant...

Eddie found himself glancing at her hand. No ring.

"My dad's passed, and my mom's had a stroke, so I moved back to help out," she explained. Eddie could feel all the years apart stretching out between them like a gulf. Their lives were so separate, so different.

"Shit. That's rough. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Moving back was a relief. I wasn't doing great in Chicago anyway. Divorced, working a dead-end job..."

"Oh. Sorry." Then, because he couldn't help himself: "Jason?"

She actually laughed, but there was no bitterness in it. "No. We broke up right after graduation. Just a few days after you left, in fact. He's married with a couple of kids now, living in Bloomington, I think."

She remembered when he left? Nah, don't be stupid. She only remembered 'cause that was when she broke up with that prick...

"What about you?" Chrissy asked.

"Me?"

"You married?" Was it his imagination, or did her nonchalance seem a little forced?

Eddie smiled ruefully. "Almost did, once."

"What happened?"

"She wised up." After that, it was just a string of fleeting relationships and meaningless hook-ups. More disappointments.

They talked about their classmates for a while—Nancy, Wheeler's sister, Miss Valedictorian, now a journalist in New York, Robin Buckley and Vickie Ryan, who shocked Hawkins when they started dating after graduation and then moved away together, and Billy Hargrove, the bad boy of their class, who was killed in a car accident in '92.

"Shit. Sounds like everybody left Hawkins," he said.

"Some stay. Some even came back," she said, gesturing to him and herself.

"That's only because they have no choice."

"No, I think it's nice to come back to a familiar place. You always know where you are. And if the place's changed... well, you've changed too, so that's even."

He hadn't thought of it like that. Suddenly the whole moving back home thing didn't seem so bad after all.

"You should be a motivational speaker, Cunningham," he said, trying to sound dry. "Have you considered that as a career?"

"I already kind of am, with the cheer squad."

"You're still cheering?"

"No, coaching." She perked up. "Didn't I tell you? I'm the cheer coach at Hawkins High now. Hard to believe, right?"

"No, not at all. You were always good at that." He remembered Chrissy in middle school, how young they'd been, how enthusiastic—how long ago was that, over twenty years? Jesus. No wonder he felt old.

"The only thing I'm good at, you mean."

"No, no," Eddie quickly said. "Well, you're good at this too," he added lamely, indicating the first-aid kit.

"I did study to be an RN." She finished bandaging up the large wound on his elbow and moved on to his other cuts and scrapes.

"So why—"

"Dropped out my third year." There was an awkward silence, but Chrissy didn't seem embarrassed. "I just couldn't cope with the stress, and there was no one to sell me half an ounce of weed at a discount," she said, twinkling at him, and he couldn't help smiling back at her.

That smile disappeared when Chrissy asked, "So, any exciting new project with Corroded Coffin coming soon?" Seeing Eddie's face fall, she sobered up. "I'm sorry, was that—"

"No, it's OK."

Eddie felt like opening up to her. Perhaps they weren't so different after all. Perhaps she'd understand.

"Well"—here Eddie took a deep breath, and the truth he'd been hiding came out in a rush—"there won't be any new stuff. Not for a while anyway. We got dropped by the label. The last album didn't sell that well, so they dropped us."

And there it was. The reason why he had to come home, the reason he felt like a failure. It had taken them years to get signed, and when it was only to an indie label, he and the guys had told themselves it was for the best, it would give them more independence. As it turned out, an indie label was less likely to interfere with their creative process, it was true, but it didn't interfere much with anything else either. They were left floundering, having to do almost everything themselves. Ten years of that would put a strain on anyone.

Without Gareth, they went through a string of replacement drummers, none lasting more than a few years, since they had never been part of Hellfire and didn't share their camaraderie. Then, when the label dropped them, it had been the last straw. They had held on for as long as they could, but eventually, when Grant and Jeff quit, Eddie had no choice but to quit as well. Grant had gone back to Hawkins for a while, then left again, having found a job in Detroit. Jeff, the rock of their group, was the only one who stayed in LA, working as a session musician. He had tried to convince Eddie to stay as well, but Eddie couldn't stand watching some other bands hit it big while he was forced to play someone else's music. To him, it would be a special form of Hell. So he'd gone home, feeling like he'd failed his bandmates, his uncle, and himself.

Chrissy listened to all that in sympathetic silence. No judging, no mocking, no clichéd advice or words of encouragement, just a softening of her eyes and a gentle squeeze of her hand on his arms as she placed Band-Aids on his cuts.

"Do you ever feel like you're a failure?" he asked, by way of a conclusion.

She peered at him for a moment before answering. "Oh just... you know, on a daily basis."

Those words rang a bell in Eddie's mind. He looked up to see Chrissy grinning crookedly at him, but there was some self-deprecation in that grin that made him realize how tactless his question had been.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean—"

"No, it's OK." Her smile got a little brighter. "I don't mind being a failure. Takes a lot of pressure off." When he raised a questioning eyebrow at that, she continued, "When you're already a failure, people don't expect much from you. You're free to live your life how you want, no need to live up to anyone's bullshit standard."

Eddie tilted his head to look at Chrissy more closely and realized his first impression of her had been wrong. She had changed. He could hardly recognize her from the nervous girl who jumped at the mere cracking of a branch when they met at this very bench sixteen years ago. She seemed... not exactly more confident, but rather, she no longer cared what others thought of her. Still, even back then, there had been a wild streak in her, a devil-may-care attitude that had driven her to buy drugs from him and agreed to come back to his trailer with him. Time and experiences had mellowed it, but it was still there. The same wild streak that had drawn him to her in the first place.

Chrissy finished with his arms and stood up so she could clean the cuts on his face.

"Do you remember that night before spring break, back in '86?" she said.

Their eyes met, and he held his breath. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I ran off like that. I'm sorry I ignored you in school afterward. It was—stupid of me. I cared too much about what other people thought."

So she remembered. And understood.

Eddie let out a breath, not just the one he'd been holding, but also the one that had his chest in a tight grip ever since he moved back home. With that breath, he also let go of all the heartache, guilt, and shame of the past. None of it mattered anymore. If he kept clinging to them, he would be no better than Andy.

He reached for Chrissy's hand, which was resting on his cheek. "You're not the only one," he said.

As she looked into his eyes, he would've given anything to be able to stay like that forever, with Chrissy standing over him, her face bent toward his, their hands intertwined, and the sun shining softly through the trees behind her, turning her gold hair into a perfect halo.

A branch snapped somewhere in the woods, breaking the spell.

Eddie cursed under his breath. His only consolation was that Chrissy was looking slightly flustered and disappointed, while she packed up the first-aid kit.

As she turned to leave, Chrissy blurted out, "Why don't you come to the game this Friday night? It'll be a walk down memory lane—oh, sorry." She winced. "I forgot that you don't care about—what did you call it? A game where you—"

"—where you toss balls into laundry baskets," Eddie said with a rueful smile. "I did say a lot of stupid shit back then. No, you don't have to apologize. It's just that—I have to work Friday night."

"Oh."

"But you're welcome at the Hideout anytime," he said, emboldened by her crestfallen look. "Drinks are on me."

Her face brightened. "I'll hold you to that."

"So... guess I'll see you around then?" he asked.

"Looks like it." She flashed him another crooked smile and walked off, while Eddie remained at the bench, feeling like he was fourteen again.

***

Wayne came out of the bedroom to find his nephew sitting on the fold-out bed. When Eddie first came home, Wayne had tried to give the bedroom back, saying the fold-out had served him well for ten years and would serve him well again, but Eddie had vehemently refused. His reason was that he was the one working nights now, and he didn't want to wake Wayne up when he came home early in the morning. In the end, Wayne had relented. He knew Eddie's guilt about having to move back in with him; no need to make the boy feel worse than he already did.

Eddie's face was bruised and bandaged, but he was looking more content than Wayne had ever seen him since he came home. And he had taken his guitar out of its case and was strumming a soft melody, occasionally stopping to jot something down in a battered old notebook in front of him. Wayne took that as a good sign.

"Mornin'," he said, shuffling toward the kitchen, making no comment on Eddie's late return or injuries. "You want some breakfast?"

"Hmm," Eddie replied distractedly, his attention still on the notebook.

It was his first attempt at writing a song in about eight months. He was a little rusty, but it felt good to pick up the guitar.

They say you can never go home again. But what if you can make the place feel like home? By peopling it with those that you know and love, and those that know you and, perhaps, if not love, then at least like you back?

She'd asked him to a game.

She'd said she'd see him around.

Maybe he could get someone to cover his shift...

"Hey Wayne," Eddie said, looking up from his guitar. "You ever watch a basketball game at Hawkins High?"

Wayne turned away from the pan of sizzling bacon to eye Eddie suspiciously. "Since when did you become interested in high school basketball?"

"Since today."

"Why?"

"No reason." Eddie shrugged, then he grinned, that familiar ear-to-ear grin that Wayne hadn't seen in a long, long time. "Just wondering if I could suffer through it this Friday night."

A/N: OK, I meant for this to be a one-shot, but my brain kept screaming at me to add more, so maybe I will expand on it later… not as a full multi-chaptered fic, but as a series of interconnected one-shots. We'll see.

#hellcheer #eddissy #hellcheersource #hellcheer fic #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #everybody lives/nobody dies #older eddie munson #one shot

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soupernatural · 1 year

Text

✩ my destiel aus: a masterlist✩

brought to you by ao3 user dirtybackroad

squatter’s rights (T, 8.1k) : weirdo angel artist drifter cas meets solo-hunter dean in an abandoned house. dean flirts via references to movies that cas hasn’t seen, cas flirts via mind reading. confirmation (T, 1.8k) : dean and lisa are set to be married. big irish catholic wedding and all. only problem, dean isn’t confirmed. enter priest cas. under covers (E, 6.5k) : get your fake dating here! even more than fake dating, get your faked sex scene ( that’s a little more than fake ) here, too! inspired by and titled after an episode of ncis. it started with a photograph (T, 3.8k) : bare the musical au ? boarding school. jock dean, shy cas. including : overuse of stained glass imagery and a first kiss. you & i (T, 1.5k) : part two of the above bare the musical au. takes place during the song you and i (obviously. jesus, zo) angsty and closety and secret relationshippy. but kinda cuddly too. changing my major (T, 1.3k) : college au, morning after cuddles unanticipated consequences (E, 13.8k) : hunter dean, veterinarian cas. dean breaks into the clinic for some emergency medical care, finds a bit more than that, actually. light my candle (E, 7.8k) : roommates to accidental kink discussion to confession of mutual pining for the last 12 years to hookup. part two is in the works (just an excuse to write the waxplay that i didn’t put in the wax play fic.) they frot. candle in the mirror (T, 6.6k) : a young dean and cas gather in the woods of their small village and do some christmastide fortune telling. witchy boy cas anyone? wall lovin’ (E, 2.7K) : dean falls for his neighbor, wholly due to the thin wall separating their bedrooms and his neighbor’s tendency to have really really loud sexual experiences. a bit dub-con as dean’s being voyeuristic but. i promise that cas doesn’t mind.

canonverse fics | sapphicnatural fics | misc. spn fics

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daydreamingfuel · 7 months

Text

Freak Like Me

Chapter 7

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

AO3 // previous

Y/N has just moved to Hawkins from England with her parents and is starting at the high school in the final term of her senior year. Eddie immediately takes a liking to her and they become fast friends, deciding to take her under his wing and falling to her charms. This is Hawkins however and things are never quite as they seem...

WHOLE FIC TAGS & WARNINGS: gratuitous use of Y/N (I'm not sorry), friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, eventual smut, semi-fix-it-fic, angst, injury, canon dialogue and events used, canon graphic violence, no main character death :)

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Arguing, bickering, banter, mentions of readers dad's job...cause that's not important at all..., the whole gang is in this one so that's fun, platonic Stobin, hints at Stancy, Eddie gets jealous of Steve, slight possessive Eddie, a fuckton of swearing, Dustin is a little shit, as per usual, Steve gets sucked into the Upside Down,

Chapter Word Count - 6.5k

A/N - so this one is up only a week following the last one cause I had a burst of inspiration and confidence in my writing so go me! this is, however, the only good thing to come of this week - my front door lock to my house completely fell apart so I've been dealing with that, and my girlfriend moved back to uni so I'm sad af. But my favourite Dungeon Master always helps.

She was paralysed by fear, déjà vu washing over her as flashes of the argument following Chrissy’s death flickered in her mind. The world blurred around her as she swam after Eddie, who had immediately started to swim back to the boat as soon as Jason dived down to get Patrick's body. Her entire body ached as she moved, catching up with Eddie, who paused momentarily upon hearing her come after him.

“Y/N we need to go, right now, come on!” He called out to her, the panic strong in his shaking voice as he pulled himself back onto the boat.

Still willing her arms to move and her legs to kick as hard as they could, her thoughts spiralled, going through every possible outcome and what she should have done differently before. She had a chance to do it right this time and, whatever the outcome, she would stay by Eddie’s side. Once she was back at back at the boat, and clambered back into it with Eddie’s help, the pair each picked up a paddle to get themselves away.

“We could still plead our case! Jason has seen that you didn’t lay a hand on Patrick - they have no evidence!” She pleaded, in a last-ditch effort as they rowed for their lives towards the shore, but Eddie was practically vibrating in frustration as they pulled themselves and the boat up onto the bank, covered the boat in the tarp and disappeared into the tree line. Eddie tried desperately to call Dustin on the walkie, but the water had seeped into the electrics of the radio and completely broken it.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie exclaimed, the rage spilling over, “Y/N, come on, it doesn’t matter if there’s no evidence, they’re still going to pin this on me!”

“On us.” She corrected, making him stop in his tracks ahead of her, “I’ve been caught red-handed at the scene of the crime, just like you. If I wasn’t a suspect before, I definitely am now.”

He shook out some of the water from his hair and clothes as he processed how much trouble they were in. Stood between the trees with sirens echoing in the distance, but growing louder with each second, he stared at her in bewilderment, unable to conceal his worsening aggravation, “So what are we supposed to do, huh? Got any bright ideas?”

“Hey!” She snapped, “No need to get all pissy at me, it’s not like I’m the one killing people.”

“No! It’s not you or me - it’s a homicidal wizard from an alternate dimension. Let’s go tell that to the police, and get ourselves thrown in the loony bin in the process!” He snapped back, which made her pause to take a breath.

Y/N closed their eyes in thought, calming herself down somewhat. It was a meaningless fight; she knew that she couldn’t go to the police now or she’d be arrested on sight. They both would. She took a few deep breaths and rubbed at her clothes in a futile attempt to get warm, shaking out her hands afterwards in agitation. “Fine. Fine! You win.” Y/N said sharply, letting the ire seep into her words, “But if we are Bonnie-and-Clyde-ing this shit, I need to get a message to my mum.”

As they walked through the forest, night creeping into the early morning hours, they bickered about how exactly they were to get Y/N’s mum a message. At one point they considered finding their way to the house and leaving her a physical message, or talking to her in person, but quickly decided that it would be too risky for everyone involved. She didn’t want her mum to get in any more trouble. Ultimately, as they found a spot to rest for the night, they agreed that they would find a way to contact the others and ask that they deliver the message to her themselves in the morning. Shaking, Y/N slumped against the giant rock formation that Eddie had led her to and passed out, right as the birds started to sing.

Sunlight splintered through the trees, hitting her face in the morning glow, and soon the light was too much to bear, her eyes fluttering open. She woke to discover that she had been covered in Eddie’s battle vest for warmth at some point during the night and the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Panic settled in the pit of her stomach, twisting horribly as thoughts of her abandonment ran wild in her head. She clutched the vest tightly in her hands as she paced the clearing for any signs of his disappearance. The embellished denim was in desperate need of a was, much like everything they were wearing, but she cradled it to herself nonetheless. Subconsciously, she knew that he would never just abandon it or her, but her mind was too clouded with fear to think straight. A snapping twig alerted her to someone's arrival. She spun on her heels to see Eddie emerging through the trees, a new walkie in his hands.

Receiving his vest to his face as it was thrown at him, Eddie was greeted hostilely by Y/N, “Where the fuck did you go?”

“Good morning to you too, sweetheart. The walkie was drowned, I found us a new one,” He held it up as though it wasn’t already obvious in his hands, “I wasn’t gone that long, I was gonna wake you when I got back.”

“Next time, wake me up before you go.” She mumbled as he settled on the floor next to her, in the shade of the giant boulder formation. Finally cognitive, the fear that fogged her mind subsided somewhat, she was able to take in her surroundings and see where it was Eddie had brought her in the early hours of the day “Where are we, anyway?”

He fiddled with the buttons on the walkie as he spoke, eyes laser-focused on tuning into the right channel, “Skull Rock. It’ll do as a hiding spot for the moment, but it’s kinda infamous as a hook-up spot.”

“Oh really?” She questioned and he hummed in confirmation, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, not looking away from the walkie in his hands, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but it’s kinda bad timing.” She teased, though her body did heat up at the thought, from both the exhilaration at the wild thoughts running through her head and the jealousy that plagued her at the possibility that he had been here with other people. She quickly pushed away both feelings, it was neither the time nor place to deal with either of those thoughts.

He snorted and allowed a small smirk to grace his lips, but it fell as fast as it appeared, as he finally found the right channel and pressed the call button on the walkie, “Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler?”

“Eddie. Holy shit. Are you okay?” Dustin's voice immediately answered through the radio, the worry coming through strong, and Y/N sighed in deep relief.

“Nah, man,” Eddie confessed easily, his nerves still rattling him, Dustin's voice after so long causing the man to crack beside her. He ran a stressed hand over his face as he talked, “Pretty… Pretty goddamn far from okay.”

There was a pause on the line briefly before Dustin asked, “Where are you? Is Y/N with you?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Y/N answered, huddled up to Eddie’s side, and leaning on his shoulder to talk, “we’re at Skull Rock. Do you know it?”

“Uh, yeah. That's near Cornwallis and-” Dustin started but was cut off by Steve.

“Garrett, yeah. I know where that is.” His voice was hushed like he wasn’t right next to the speaker, but standing near Dustin. Knowing he was there, and presumably would be driving, she called out to him, grabbing the walkie.

“Steve wait!”

There was silence for a moment before his voice came back through, “Y/N? What’s up, we don’t have much time.” His voice was dripping with concern and confusion, almost familial in tone – like a stressed dad, so she spoke as concisely as possible.

“Before you come to us, I need you to get a message to my mum.” Before she could be cut off, she continued, “And yes, I know that’s reckless, but I need you to do this for me, please, Steve – tell her to call my dad and his lawyers. And that I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, I’m not sure that’s the best-”

She cut him off, desperate, squeezing the walkie, “Steve, please!”

Her voice echoed slightly, as Eddie pulled the walkie from her hands to grip them tightly, until Dustin’s voice finally responded, “Hold tight. We're coming.” Y/N took a shaking breath, “We're coming.”

The static that followed echoed in the small space beneath the towering rock formation, they would be alone again for a while. Still very much shaken from the previous night, Eddie placed the walkie in the leaves at their feet and re-laced his fingers with Y/N’s. She immediately squeezed back, letting her body melt into his side, head nestled in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around each other protectively. Eventually, she muttered, “My dad’s gonna kill me before Vecna gets a chance to.”

“Do you think his lawyers will be able to help?” Eddie fretted and Y/N nodded softly, “What does your dad even do anyway? You never talk about him.”

She sighed and sat upright, picking at her clothes that had half dried and were fitting uncomfortably, “He’s not really allowed to talk about his job, I know the project he was working on was pretty big though, had him staying late and stressed all the time. He had barely any patience or attention left for me or mum, but she got to see him more than I did at least. I know it’s something technical and sciencey, for a subsect of the Government - all very secretive.” She flourished her hands dramatically, before letting them fall back into her lap, “I know he’s good at his job, whatever it is. We were told when he was recruited by this Doctor, that they might need to transfer him temporarily without notice and it wouldn’t be negotiable, which put a strain on my parents' relationship - they’ve barely been apart in 20 years.” Finally, she turned her head to look at him, crossing her legs and resting her cheek on her hand propped up on her knee, “But the security incentive helped. Not just financially but the insurance and the lawyers should anything happen, in case of an emergency.”

“And this counts as an emergency?” Eddie asked her, not quite believing in his own importance. He didn’t need to say what he was really asking, as their eyes locked Y/N could see every emotion swimming in the dark chocolate irises – the distress, the anger, the exhaustion, the anguish. But also, the desperate relief, that she cared about him enough to take his side and stay there. To call in reinforcements on his behalf.

She gazed at him, hoping that he would understand, “Of course it does.”

An hour, then two, crawled by. Hungry, tired, and scared, Y/N and Eddie huddled together under the shade of Skull Rock. They barely talked, too preoccupied with listening out for any signs of life nearby. Steve wouldn’t be able to drive his car into the clearing itself, so their rescuers would be coming to them on foot. But the pair were acutely aware that foes as well as friends were on the hunt for them too. At the sounds of bushes rustling and twigs snapping close by, they tensed and scrambled to their feet, hiding behind the rocks and in the trees. However, their instinct to take cover was quickly deemed unnecessary as familiar voices were soon relieving their fear.

“Oh, boom! Bada bing, bada boom.” Steve, confidently strolled into the clearing, Dustin following close behind, “There she is, Henderson. Skull Rock. In your face, man. In your stupid, cocky little face.”

Dustin checked something in his hand, and looked up at the rock formation in bewilderment, “Doesn't make sense.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolled his eyes and started lecturing the young teen, “Even with it staring you in the face, you can't admit it. Can't admit you're wrong, you butthead.”

“I concur.” Feeling safer amongst friends, Eddie made his presence known, jumping down from the rock he was hiding behind, “You, Dustin Henderson, are a… total butthead.”

Dustin smiled in relief and immediately went to hug Eddie, “Jesus, we thought you were a goner.”

“Yeah, me too, man.” Eddie hugged back, avoiding his backpack, and looking over his capped head past Steve, to where Y/N was emerging from the trees behind Steve, “Me too.”

Scurrying over, Y/N poked Steve in the side, the yellow fabric of his jumper soft under her hands, “Hey stranger.”

“Hey,” Steve wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a warm hug, “I knew you staying was a bad idea, but I’m glad you’re safe. You are okay, right?”

“As okay as I can be, Harrington.” She assured him with a half smile.

As Steve and Eddie gave each other a cursory nod and smile, Dustin pulled Y/N away for an embrace themselves, and she squeezed him tightly, rocking from foot to foot gently. They laughed lightly, as they expressed their relief at each other’s safety. Robin, Nancy, Lucas, and Max all wandered into the clearing, making Y/N smile more. Calling Lucas over, she gave him a quick squeeze before greeting the others, checking to see if they too were okay. Max had her headphones hanging around her neck, leading to the Walkman clipped tightly to her jeans, just as it had been the last time she had seen her, a look in her eye telling Y/N that she was too deeply aware of the danger they were all in. Robin in her endearing awkwardness, gave Y/N a wave and Nancy stood next to her, gave a polite ‘hello’ before she handed Y/N a grocery bag.

“Thank you, so much, I’m starving- Ed’s!” Y/N interrupted herself, and Eddie perked up at her call, scampering over to her, “Food.”

Eagerly, Eddie reached out and took some of the stuff that the group had brought for them, quickly taking the six-pack of beer that Nancy had, in fact, bought. As Y/N sat to eat, Steve rummaged through a large backpack, pulled out a Tupperware box and wandered over to sit by her. He handed her the tub with a folded-up piece of paper reading ‘For Y/N’ taped to the lid, “Your mom gave me this to give to you. I haven’t read it, swear, but she was shaking a little when she was writing it so I don’t think you should read it just yet. You know, with everyone around?”

“Yeah…thanks, Steve,” Y/N carefully pulled the note from the box and pocketed it, “How was she? Just, like…generally?”

“She definitely believes in you. She was terrified, of course, but, yeah she, uh…she didn’t really question it when we said what you asked, just thanked us, wrote the note, gave us the food and told us to be safe.” Steve seemed baffled by the interaction, standing up to leave her in peace, but Y/N just nodded and laughed lightly to herself.

Lost in thought, she could only reply, “Classic mum.” Eddie plonked himself hip to hip with Y/N as she opened the tub, finding disposable cutlery inside along with Y/N’s favourite family recipe, which she happily shared with him.

The group at Skull Rock gathered to debrief on the events of the past few days as Eddie and Y/N devoured Mrs Y/L/N’s cooking. Steadily, they told their fugitive friends that they had figured out that Vecna was linked to the infamous Creel murders in the 1950s, all the victims killed in the same manner by a mysterious force that was ultimately pinned on an innocent man, Victor Creel, who had been locked up for decades, driven mad by the memories. The previous night while Eddie and Y/N were hiding and running from Jason, they had been exploring the abandoned Creel house. In turn, Eddie and Y/N explained as best as they could what had happened and what they saw, the friends around them hanging on to every detail trying to piece it together with what they had been up to.

“When we got to the shore, I tried calling you guys, but, uh…my walkie was busted, man. Drenched. So, uh, I did the thing that I do now, apparently.” Eddie gave a cynical smile, “I ran.”

Y/N chuckled dryly, “And I followed. Though we kinda figured, it was that or be arrested for murder.”

Eddie hummed in acknowledgement of their brief spat the night before, before taking a huge gulp of the beer that Nancy had ultimately brought him before passing it to Y/N who too, took a swig.

“Do you know what time this was? The attack?” Nancy asked deep in thought, going over all the details. Y/N had heard about her particular proclivity for the details and piecing things together by Dustin, talking about how good his older friends would be at Dungeons & Dragons if they just gave it a chance.

Eddie nodded, “Yeah, no, I… I know exactly what time it was.” He fiddled with the strap of his busted watch, “My walkie wasn't the only thing that got soaked.” He threw it to her once it was off and she caught it easily.

“9:27,” Nancy confirmed her thoughts to the group.

Robin immediately got the hint and added, “Same time our flashlights went kablooey.”

“Which means what, exactly?” Steve, much like Y/N and Eddie, was still rather confused about the perceived link between the events.

Nancy, putting the pieces together, explained, “That that surge of energy, was Vecna attacking Patrick.” She threw Eddie back his watch, and despite it being broken he put it back on, the feeling of it not being there having weirdly unsettled him. It seemed as though a lightbulb turned on in Y/N’s mind as their combined events of the past few days clicked into place.

“Well, we're one step closer.” Robin said, seeing the silver lining to the situation at hand, “We know how Vecna attacks.”

“And where he attacks from,” Lucus added. A small ray of hope started to shine through the cracks, but wasn’t quite bright enough to wash away all of Y/N’s fear.

Max, having been cursed by Vecna herself, and already had an attack attempted on her, finished the thought, “So now we just need to sneak into his lair in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart.”

“If he even has a heart,” Robin added, doubtful, as though she could read Y/N’s mind.

Steve, who was standing by the rock where Y/N was sat, with arms folded across his chest, thought out loud, vaguely confused, “Stake? Is he like a vamp- Is he a vampire?”

Y/N could tell that his question was somewhat genuine, and also felt vague amounts of frustration from the others, so not wanting to add to that, answered, “I think it was a metaphor, but at this point who knows, he could be.” She reached up and squeezed his elbow softly, as she spoke without condescension, which Steve appreciated greatly.

Eddie tried not to pay any mind to how gentle Y/N was with Steve - refusing to let it bruise his ego as he recalled the frequent vulnerable moments she chose to share with him over the recent days - as he suggested, “A bullet should work on him, right?”

“I say we chop his head off.” Lucas offered bluntly, making Y/N nod in agreement.

“I’d say all of the above,” Nancy interjected, trying to stay logical, “but we can't do any of that 'til we find a way into the Upside Down.”

Max, aggravated at how complex the problem they needed to solve was, wished, “We need El to get her powers back.”

“Everything was way easier,” Steve emphasised, then looked down to Y/N and Eddie, “We had this girl. She had superpowers-”

“Superpowers. Yeah, you mentioned her.” Eddie replied, slightly cutting him off as he was distracted, watching Dustin – who had been pacing back and forth behind the little circle the group had formed as they talked, barely paying attention to what had been said. Deeply confused by the young teens' behaviour, Eddie asked, “Hey, uh, Henderson's not, uh, cursed, is he?”

And Steve answered, with an annoyance only known to that of older siblings, at their wit's end with their younger relation, “Cursed? No, no. He's fine. Mental? Absolutely.”

“Boom!” the teen in question finally shouted, turning to the rest of the group at long last, his voice echoing in the trees startling everyone except Steve. As he spoke, he stalked towards his surrogate brother, pointing a knowing finger at him, “Bada… bada… boom. I was right. Skull Rock was north.”

Steve was incredulous, “Seriously? You're serious?” and Dustin hummed in response, nodding with a smug little smirk, so Steve continued, “This is Skull Rock. Okay? You're totally, absolutely, 100% wrong. Right now.”

“Yes. And no.”

“Oh my God,” Steve ran his hands over his face, having to walk away from the boy.

Y/N, holding back a laugh at the brotherly rapport between the two boys, asked in confusion at the sudden outburst, “Dustin, what’s the point of this?”

Immediately, Dustin launched into an almost patronising but still endearing explanation of why he wasn’t wrong, “This compass worked correctly when we left the Wheelers'. Correct when we got in the car on Kerley. But it started to slip the further east we went. Now, it's way off. When I was leading us here, I wasn't wrong. The compass was.”

“So, you're using faulty equipment. You're still wrong.” Steve rebuked.

“Except it isn't faulty.” Dustin insisted before asking, “Lucas, remember what can affect a compass?”

Lucas seemingly understood exactly what his friend was trying to tell them, in a roundabout way, “An electromagnetic field.”

Dustin smiled and confirmed, but Robin asked, needing more explanation, “Sorry. I must've skipped that class.”

“Compasses work through magnetism, they’re built to point towards the magnetic north pole,” Y/N answered, her childhood days of performing little science experiments with her father coming in clutch, and receiving a few surprised looks from her peers as she continued, “But, in the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, as Lucas said, the needle will deflect towards that power source instead, meaning the compass is technically ‘wrong’.”

“Exactly.” Dustin was practically beaming, “So either there's some super big magnet around here, or…”

“There's a gate.” Lucas realised, and Dustin nodded. A heavy weight settled in the air around them, Y/N feeling as though she should know what that meant with more certainty than she did. As the group theorised how and why this gate may have come to fruition, Eddie nudged Y/N in the side to get her attention. They shared a look that asked if the other was understanding the conversation, only to be met with equal confusion, which made them feel more at ease with their lack of inter-dimensional knowledge. They were broken out of this exchange however by Steve.

“Where are you going?” The question snapped them back to the group, seeing Dustin walking away from everyone, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!” He paused at Steve's protests, “Eddie's still a wanted man. And now Y/N is a suspect too. We can't just go for a hike in the woods.”

Dustin, clearly agitated made one final plea, “This little steel capsule might be the key to saving Max, Eddie and Y/N.” He turned to the pair on the ground, gesturing to them as he propositioned them, “What say you, Eddie the Banished? Y/N the Exiled?”

“I say you're asking me to follow you into Mordor, which, if I'm totally straight with you, I think is a really bad idea.” Eddie paused, thought for a moment, before looking over at Y/N, “But, uh, the Shire…the Shire is burning.” As Eddie took Y/N's hand and helped her to stand, Dustin jumped in place excitedly, happy that they were going to test his theory. “So, Mordor it is.”

Steve, bewildered by the exchange and still peeved about Dustin's instance to be right, asked nobody in particular, with only Y/N picking up on it, “What is Mordor?”

“It’s the dark land from The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings- incredibly nerdy, don’t worry about it,” Y/N reassured him with a smile.

Once again, and growing fonder, Steve was grateful for Y/N’s patience after the constant teasing from his younger compatriots. “Thanks.” He whispered, before gesturing to the remainder of the food by her feet, “Get your stuff. Let's go.”

Trekking through the woods, playing follow the leader with Dustin - Eddie right behind him with a torch - Y/N found herself hanging back to talk to Steve, who was bringing up the rear of the party to make sure none got lost or left behind. Steve was familiar in some ways, a reminder of her past, with his previous ‘kingly’ reputation for being a bit of a teenage asshole, but Y/N was more deeply fascinated by his seemingly innate desire to protect the group – particularly the younger teens. Listening intently as he explained as briefly as he could, Y/N quickly learned that, much like herself, he had been caught up in the supernatural by accident, time and time again. He had only been trying to apologise to Jonathan when the Demogorgon attacked the Byers house, he didn’t intend to fight it off with a nailed baseball bat. And win. He had only been bringing Nancy flowers when he was roped into hunting a baby Demogorgon with Dustin, not knowing he would have to fight off an army of them to protect Dustin, Max, and Lucas. Of which he was successful. And he had just been working with Robin, “slinging ice cream”, when Dustin came to him with a weird message he had picked up – it definitely wasn’t the plan to be trapped in a secret Russian base and tortured, whilst still in uniform. Then live to tell the tale. Every time, he fought and tried to protect those around him, regardless of his own safety and how insane the situation was. Y/N decided that not only did she like Steve, but she deeply respected him.

In turn, she reminisced about her family and life back in England, glossing over the trauma quickly before circling back to the past few months since the move. Just as she was starting to gush about how Eddie and Hellfire had made her feel so welcomed, and why the stigma was so frustrating, they came to a standstill. Taking in their surroundings, Y/N felt a cold chill run down her spine.

“Oh, man. You gotta be shitting me.” Steve huffed and Y/N reciprocated the feeling.

“Yeah.” Y/N scoffed humourlessly, “I thought these woods were familiar.”

The sun had set whilst they were walking, and the moon high in the sky was once again reflecting on the soft waves of water in Lovers Lake. Y/N, glared at the water, trying silently to control her breathing so as to not alert the others of her rising panic, though it seemed her nerves were felt as Eddie moved to stand beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and pulling her into his side.

Tuning back into the conversation, she heard Nancy offer up a theory, “Whenever the Demogorgon attacked, it always left an opening. Maybe Vecna's the same way.”

“Yeah, only one way to find out,” Steve said conclusively, then turned to Y/N and Eddie where they were huddled together and asked where they had stashed the boat. With Y/N leading the way, they traipsed along the bank until they found the boat, haphazardly covered in the tree line. Pulling it off, they looked at the available seating, then at each other in confirmation of shared ideas. The older teens and young adults of the group quickly realised it would be up to them to test Dustin’s theory.

Steve and Eddie bickered slightly as they got the boat half in the water before each offering a hand to Robin to help her into the boat. Instead, she elected to use their heads for support as she stepped into the small vessel, thanking them as she passed. Eddie then stood up as Steve kept the boat grounded, both again offering their hands to Nancy as she too stepped in, though she did not notice Steve's offer, only taking Eddie’s hand.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie then gave a saccharine smile as he flourished his hand out to Y/N, trying to ease her obvious panic with theatricality.

She took his hand graciously and winked as she passed him, “Thanks, honey.”

Dustin, who had been watching, gagged, “You two make me sick,” he muttered to himself as he tried to gain access to the boat, but was very quickly stopped by Eddie.

“Hey, hey, hey, you trying to sink us?” He pushed Dustin back to land with a hand on the forehead, “This thing holds four people tops, okay?” Eddie didn’t want to upset Dustin or patronise him, but he also wanted him safe.

Seeing Eddie’s tactic to keep the children on land, Nancy assured him, “It's better this way, okay? You guys stay here with Max. Keep an eye out for trouble.”

“You keep an eye out.” Dustin snapped back at her, “It's my goddamn theory.”

Robin piped up, trying to establish some form of authority, “You heard Nance.”

“Who put her in charge?”

“I did.”

Nancy held her hand out to Dustin, “Compass.” He huffs in a small tantrum for a moment before handing it to her, with Nancy passing it to Eddie to hold as she got resettled on the bench. Once the four on the boat were sat somewhat comfortably, Steve stood up, threw Dustin's backpack at him, and pushed off from the bank, taking his seat next to Nancy as Robin and Eddie started to row.

“You said four!” Dustin called out, annoyed.

Steve whisper-shouts “Sorry,” back at him as they drifted further from the bank.

“Bedtime at nine, kiddos,” Robin shouted, baiting those still on land. Dustin flipped her off as Max rolled her eyes, Lucas just watched in vague amusement, “Miss you already!”

The row out to the middle of the lake was slow but steady, as Nancy watched the compass to make sure they were still heading in the right direction. Once they were far away enough from the shore that the young teens who stood on the bank looked like toddlers, Nancy called out for them to slow down. Stopping their rowing, the group turned to look at Nancy and the compass in her hands, which was flicking back and forth crazily.

Their stunned silence was interrupted by Dustin over the walkie, “Guys, what's going on? Come on, talk to me. What's going on?”

“Uh, Dustin, your compass has gone from kinda wonky to wonky with a capital ‘aah!’” Robin, hesitantly answered, awestruck.

Y/N emphasised, “It’s like the needle doesn’t know where to point - like it’s overwhelmed with electromagnetic energy. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

As Y/N talked, Steve started taking off his shoes and socks, confounding his friends in the boat. When questioned by a concerned Nancy, he replied, with a certain authority, “Somebody's gotta go down and check this out. Unless one of you four can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years, then… it's gotta be me. No complaints, all right?”

“Hey, I'm not complaining,” Eddie reassured him, “I do not wanna go down there.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, peeking over the edge of the boat to stare at the water and shuddering, “Yeah, I’ve already been in this lake once in the last 24 hours, I’m not exactly desperate to do it again.”

Eddie reached into his pocket and pulled out a shopping bag with only a carton of cigarettes and a lighter in it, and emptied it into his lap as Steve stood up and took off his jumper, revealing his toned and hairy chest. Y/N glanced up at him from the movement, looking away before registering the sight. Once she did, her eyes widened slightly as she did a small double-take, and slowly blinked to fully process it. Having clocked the cogs turning in Y/N’s head, Eddie cleared his throat to snap her out of it, possessiveness bubbling up under his skin. He raised an eyebrow at her in question, which she vehemently ignored, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, and just shrugged in response. Nancy, however, was outright staring in awe at Steve’s body, despite having a boyfriend herself, which only Robin noticed, though she said nothing, smiling to herself instead.

Eddie, slightly aggravated, wrapped the now empty shopping bag around the torch he had been carrying through the woods and handed it to Steve, “Hey. Good luck.”

Steve took the not mostly waterproofed torch, looking over his shoulder at him, the light hitting his handsome features just right, eyes intense and focused, “Thanks.”

‘Damn.’

‘Wait, are you attracted to Steve?’

‘No…surely not.’

Slightly hating how the moonlight making Steve look ethereal made her feel, her heartbeat picking up somewhat, she looked over at Eddie as a welcome distraction. And though she should have expected it, Y/N shocked herself with how it didn’t help much with her heart rate, but instead increased it. Eddie had a cigarette hanging from his lips, the light reflecting on the water casting a beautiful shadow over his cheekbones and jawline. Y/N reached for the lighter in his hand and ignited the flame, reaching up slightly so he’d have to lean down to her if he wanted his cigarette lit. The glow of the fire shone in his eyes as he stared at her through it.

“Gross.” The moment was broken by Robin as she took the cigarette from Eddie's lips and threw it into the lake. In sync, Eddie and Y/N turned their heads to stare at her, mystified. As her eyes locked onto Robins, she tried to send a telepathic ‘what the fuck dude?’ her way and knew she had succeeded when Robin rolled her eyes with a small, victorious smirk.

Steve stood at the edge of the boat, breathing steadily and mentally preparing himself to dive down to the lakebed.

“Steve?” Nancy called softly, making him turn his head to look down at her, “Be careful.”

An apprehensive look flashed in his eyes, almost like guilt, as their eyes locked, but he nodded nonetheless and dove gracefully into the dark water. They sat in tense silence as Steve swam further and further down, with Nancy counting the seconds on her watch to make sure that he wasn’t submerged for too long.

Robin, growing more and more agitated, asked, “Where we at, Wheeler?”

“Closing in on a minute.” She replied, not taking her eyes off the watch.

Robin nodded, “Okay.” She made a noise of discomfort feigning ambivalence, obviously very worried about her friend. Y/N offered a hand for Robin to squeeze, which she grasped tightly.

Just as Eddie cleared his throat, uncomfortable in the silence, it was broken completely when the water gushed loudly as Steve resurfaced, making everyone on the boat exclaim in surprise, even more surprised when Steve said, “I found it.” He panted through his confirmation when Robin asked for it, leaning on the side of the boat as Nancy pulled wet strands of hair from his forehead with deep care.

“Dustin, you are a goddamn Einstein.” Robin said excitedly into the walkie, “Steve found the gate, we have a way to Vecna.”

“It's pretty wild.” Steve said through pants, still trying to catch his breath, arms holding him up on the edge of the boat, “It's more a snack-size gate than the mama gate, but still, it's pretty damn big.”

Right as he stopped speaking, he dropped off the side of the boat momentarily, like something was pulling him down. Everyone lurched forward in shock, but they all regained composure quickly and waited with bated breath to ensure he was okay and wouldn’t happen again. For a moment all was calm as they scanned the water before Steve was fully dragged under without a second to react. The group dissolved into chaos, all shouting after Steve, but it was pointless. He was unreachable.

“No! No!” Eddie protested, deeply stressed, “What the hell was that man?”

Robin was intensely distressed, staring back and forth between the dark water and Nancy beside her, leaning over the edge of the boat “Nancy, really, what happened?”

Nancy, however, ignored all questions and stood up, determined to go in after Steve, much to everyone else's panic. At the sounds of protests, Nancy could only tell them to wait where they were before diving in and swimming down to find Steve.

“Fucking hell!” Y/N cursed loudly, shaking, and running her hands up and down her temples as Eddie loudly swore to himself. Unbeknownst to them both, Robin quietly and carefully sat backwards on the edge of the boat, preparing herself to search the lake herself.

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” Eddie faced her, hands held out to stop her if he had to, “What are you doing? She said wait.”

Robin stared back at him, dismissively, her mind already made up, “Yeah, I heard her.”

“She's in charge,” Eddie tried, grasping at flimsy straws.

Robin scoffed and shook her head, “Are you kidding me?”

Y/N placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “Eds she was bullshitting, and you know it. Nobody’s in charge.” Her voice was trembling slightly, barely more than a frustrated whimper.

“Don't you go. Don't you—” Despite his thinly veiled threats, Robin fully ignored Eddie and fell backwards off the edge of the boat and into the water.

Eddie immediately stood up in anger and fear, “Goddamn it! Son of a bitch!” he paced the small space of the boat as much as he could, staring at the water and contemplating what fate was worse, “Oh, this is so stupid.”

“This is really fucking stupid,” Y/N could only agree.

‘Don’t be a pussy.’

‘I’m definitely gonna regret this.’

In his blind panic, Eddie didn’t notice the cogs turning in Y/N’s mind until it was too late. She was standing, prepared to dive. “Y/N! No, not you too. Sweetheart, please!” But she was gone with a loud splash, “Shit!”

Swearing profusely as he questioned his own existence, Eddie’s mind was filled with paralysing fear. Thoughts of her drowning, being pulled apart, sucked into an alternate hellish dimension, tortured, and broken, flashed through his raging mind. Before he could register his own actions, Eddie dove beneath the water, his only tether to reality being the hope that she was still alive.

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #stranger things vol 2 #reader insert #freak like me #leaf writes

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illuminatedferret · 29 days

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Once again I've got posting issues but if yall are interested in a 6.5k crack pwp fic of Xie Lian going to town on Hua Cheng... I got you covered. Innuendos and euphemisms galore.

edit: why did this lose the link??? jesus posting issues galore

#tgcf #illuspeaks #xie lian #hua cheng #hualian #tian guan ci fu #heaven officials blessing #illuwrites

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kmilipede · 1 year

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~ the devil judge fics that rewired my dna ~

so uhm here’s my small silly little list of some tdj fic that has altered my soul because let me tell you. when a tdj fic hits it HITS. so maybe there’ll be a fic here that you haven’t read that you’ll enjoy here

these are all gahan because yes and also all completed because i’ve been hurt too many times before. also i love all of these fics very dearly so they’re not in any order

➤ it’s here i’ll be with you by mcreary

➣ Mature, ~27k words, Post-canon, Angst with a happy ending

➣ Gaon keeps attempting to fix things, but somehow, one part always seems to be missing.

➣ for me, this is THE post-canon gahan fic. what stands out for me is while gaon may be awfully lovesick, he doesn’t completely isolate himself - still maintains and forms friendships with people. watching the development of this and the way he heals is EXQUISITE and it’s written EXQUISITELY. the yearning has a wonderful payoff too. it’s just really fucking amazing guys plz read it

➤ Gravitational Pull by Amethystina

➣ Teen, ~22k words, Ep 13 canon divergence

➣ As grateful as Ga On is that Soo Hyun rescued him from Bamboo Spear's violent mob, he can tell she's lying when she claims to have heard about it on the police radio. That explanation just doesn't add up. So Ga On pressures her to tell the truth and, to his surprise, she reveals that Kang Yo Han was the one who sent her.

That one simple admission sets off a series of events that Ga On could never have predicted — events that bring out feelings he's done his best to ignore.

And desires he realizes he might not be strong enough to resist.

➣ i like how this fic doesn’t ignore how strongly gaon obviously feels for soohyun - i mean she’s been the only person for him to rely on for years. yet despite that, gaon works through what he actually wants and feels and chooses yohan. i cannot get over how well gaon’s inner thoughts are written. in fact, i can not get over how well the characters are written, full stop.

➤ Once you say it out loud, it can’t be undone by Ivrigasked

➣ Mature, ~9k words, 5+1, Domestic

➣ Alternative title: Five times Gaon catches Yohan off guard, and the one time he sees it coming.

➣ sometime domestic-style fics can be overly sickly but this is not one!! love the follow of gahan’s relationship and it’s written so well and smoothly. the yohan pov is nice too :)

➤ Destroy Me More by saturate

➣ Explicit, 6.5k words, Ep 12 canon divergence, Sexual Content

➣ “What kind of monster am I becoming?” Gaon asks, then, and wishes he could regret it, this becoming. He knows that Yohan is a monster, in some ways. Knows that only another monster could stand on his level, be his equal, and Gaon yearns to stand beside Yohan with an intensity that hollows him out.

Yohan’s hand on his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. Gaon shudders. Wants more. Wants everything. “It may be hard,” Yohan says, and his ears are flushed red, like something in this is getting to him, too, “but it can’t be helped.”

➣ i love episode rewrites! really wish this is what happened in episode 12 ngl. absolute nailed the characters and their mannerisms and their incredibly hot dynamic. there’s some lines in this that making me go fucking feral - an absolute masterpiece when it comes to that and the writing overall is just great. i come back to this a lot just to scream

➤ Bedroom Hymns [series] by godotismissing

➣ Explicit, ~31k words, Sexual content, ….various kinks

➣ Kinky Gahan fics

➣ i mean it’s porn. but if you want some excellent tasteful well written porn for gahan these are all the PERFECT fics. some of these have pretty different …… premises but they’re all EXTREMELY hot and will unleash all the pent up tension you have after watching the amount of sexual tension they have in the show jesus christ

➤ underneath the waterfall by vi (imvi)

➣ Mature, ~21k words, Post-canon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a happy ending

➣ They’ve always been different kinds of wounded animals.

➣ for me, this is THE other post-canon gahan fic. it hurts sososo much then carefully puts you back together. like gaon is very sad but yohan comes back to mend him and it’s just so. everything

➤ path of the fossils by noctevicos

➣ General Audiences, ~1.5k, Fluff, Intimacy

➣ “You can touch me, you know. You won’t hurt me.”

“I’m trying not to,” Yohan says, and then his eyes widen and he freezes, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Too late, thinks Gaon. I see you.

➣ i come back to this one a lot because there’s something so tender and delicate about it that i love. it paints such a beautiful picture. it’s written so wonderfully and it’s so just ugh everything i really just melt when i think about it

i may add to this in the future but for now. go show these fics some love 🔫

#the devil judge #tdj #kang yohan #kim gaon #gahan #the devil judge fanfic #fic rec #the devil judge fanfiction

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demonmary · 1 year

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my destiel aus: a masterlist

brought to you by ao3 user dirtybackroad squatter’s rights (T, 8.1k) : weirdo angel artist drifter cas meets solo-hunter dean in an abandoned house. dean flirts via references to movies that cas hasn’t seen, cas flirts via mind reading. confirmation (T, 1.8k) : dean and lisa are set to be married. big irish catholic wedding and all. only problem, dean isn’t confirmed. enter priest cas. under covers (E, 6.5k) : get your fake dating here! even more than fake dating, get your faked sex scene ( that’s a little more than fake ) here, too! inspired by and titled after an episode of ncis. it started with a photograph (T, 3.8k) : bare the musical au ? boarding school. jock dean, shy cas. including : overuse of stained glass imagery and a first kiss. you & i (T, 1.5k) : part two of the above bare the musical au. takes place during the song you and i (obviously. jesus, zo) angsty and closety and secret relationshippy. but kinda cuddly too. changing my major (T, 1.3k) : college au, morning after cuddles unanticipated consequences (E, 13.8k) : hunter dean, veterinarian cas. dean breaks into the clinic for some emergency medical care, finds a bit more than that, actually. light my candle (E, 7.8k) : roommates to accidental kink discussion to confession of mutual pining for the last 12 years to hookup. part two is in the works (just an excuse to write the waxplay that i didn’t put in the wax play fic.) they frot. candle in the mirror (T, 6.6k) : a young dean and cas gather in the woods of their small village and do some christmastide fortune telling. witchy boy cas anyone? wall lovin’ (E, 2.7K) : dean falls for his neighbor, wholly due to the thin wall separating their bedrooms and his neighbor’s tendency to have really really loud sexual experiences. a bit dub-con as dean’s being voyeuristic but. i promise that cas doesn’t mind.

aaaaand here's the canon version of this post

#im working on navigation for this blog hehe #here’s all my aus ! with brand new sales pitch descriptions #dirtybackroad #zo.txt

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aquanova99 · 2 years

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Haunted (Cato x Reader)

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Part 4

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A/N: Jesus it’s been forever I apologize in advance but this is a long longggggg chapter last I checked it was at 6.5k words so I’m sorry about that. Really so sorry again, it’s hard to resummarize and also rewrite your version of the book

A/N: I hope you are having a day as wonderful as you 🤍

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Y/ns pov

Day 1 travel to the capitol. Day 2, tribute parade. Days 3, 4, and 5, group training with private training with the gamemakers the second half of day 5. Day 6, train for and have the interview of your life. Day 7, travel to location and begin trying to survive. Lovely, at the moment you were on day 4. How many hours of sleep did you end up getting last night, two? Four? It didn’t matter, you were ready to begin training. You debated going into Peeta’s room to ask him if he wanted to get in some extra training but you enjoyed having space to destress and actually practice.

You put on an oversized, long sleeve t-shirt and black leggings and some white sneakers. You put your hair up in a high ponytail and headed down to the training center. You weren’t surprised to find it empty, but luckily at least this time there were trainers and instructors setting up for the day. You had been improving but even with the extra practice you were still behind the rest of the careers. You asked for the instructors help with archery, you knew if Katniss had been here that would be her weapon of choice. It was clear to see it was not your strength. After a few minutes you managed to at least get close to your target. You were frustrated with yourself, you knew how accurate Katniss’s kills were, you wondered how she would fare in the games for a split second before shaking your head and trying to refocus.

You shot another time and you were shooting too much to the right. You threw the bow and arrows down out of frustration, groaning as you sat with your head in your hands.

“Not bad 12.” Your head shot up to see the district one tribute standing against the door to the training center. You scrambled back to your feet, worried about more people now knowing about having extra practice. “When did you sneak in here?”

“Uhm, like ten minutes ago?” Lie. “I saw them start to set up so I figured it was okay to come in.” Another lie.

“Not bad at shooting, probably around the same as Glimmer.” He was stating an observation, you weren’t able to figure out if he was annoyed or impressed. You were nervous. And also annoyed you’d seen Glimmer shoot you were better than her. Your mind started racing. What if he had been standing there for longer than 10 minutes? You needed to get out of there.

“Well, uhm I should go… and get my partner.”

Marvel picked grabbed a spear and perfectly shot it at a target, “Sure 12.”

You sped walked to the elevator and headed back to your floor. You weren’t surprised to see your team waiting for you.

“Where have you been?” Peeta asked

“Couldn’t sleep I was just walking around, went to the roof and then went to see if the training center was open, they just finished setting up in there by the way.”

You knew Haymitch could tell you were lying but he didn’t press. Instead Peeta replied again, “You should be careful going to the roof, I went up there the other day and I think the victor from District 2 was up there.”

“Cato?” Effie asked

“Yeah that one.” You could tell Peeta did not like him. Most people didn’t. Anyone who trained and won the games were never the favorites back home. You decided to keep the run ins you had with him silent.

“I’ll be careful. Are you ready?”

“He has to change first. Go pick out a shirt that at least coordinates with hers.” Peeta just nodded and left, “and you, I can’t do anything about your sleep sweetheart but at least grab something to eat before you go down there.”

You nodded and grabbed some rolls leftover from breakfast and a bottle of water to take with you. When Peeta still hadn’t come back you ended up grabbing a small plate full of breakfast food and eating as quickly as you could. You were halfway done with your food when Peeta finally came back out.

“This is as close as I got to that color.”

“Its fine, lets go.”

“Don’t you want to finish?” Peeta motioned at your half-finished plate.

“Nope all done.” You grabbed Peetas hand and led him to the elevator, “Come on, I want to try some actual fighting skills today.” You weren’t the last to arrive this time. In fact, it was only the careers and the boy from 10 and the girl from 5. The rest of the tributes started trickling in after you and Peeta had lined up for the hand-to-hand combat station. The boy from district 11, Thresh was behind you. While Peeta was getting instructions from the trainers you turned back to him. You noticed no one was lined up behind him, probably too intimidated.

“So, still thinking about possibly being allies?”

“No chance 12.”

“Come on, I know Rue wants to.”

“Yeah, but I don’t trust your boyfriend over there. I think I saw him talking to the careers.”

“What? When?” This was news to you, you weren’t supposed to train separately, but if he had been waiting to use another station like this case maybe he had talked to them. You looked back at Peeta sparring and felt thresh lean over just a bit.

“Yesterday after he had thrown those weights. The guy from 2 and the girl from 1 talked to him while you were cleaning up from the camouflage station. Rue isn’t sure about him either.”

You remembered, Peeta had fallen on an obstacle course and when the careers began laughing you had told him to go against what Haymitch had said. You made sure to keep your eyes trained on Peeta. Your plans to not work with him solidifying every day. Thresh could just be messing with you, but he seemed too straightforward to say something like this. You spoke loud enough for him to be able to hear, looking annoyed with your arms crossed.

“I’m only doing this until the games. I don’t plan on working with him after that.”

“We’ll see.”

You were prepared to say something else but Peeta came down right then, “Go ahead y/n, good luck up there its intense.” You smiled as sweetly as you could and headed up there. Thankfully you were able get some of your anger out. You did your best to avoid most of the hits and land a few of your own but you ended on your back more often than not. You were not looking forward to having to do that in the games. You looked over and noticed Peeta talking to the district 1 girl, Glimmer. Now you knew Thresh was right. Dammit. How were you supposed to get allies if he was doing stuff like this? All of the guys were bigger than you and most of the girls were too. The only upper hand you had is that you would be used to foraging and surviving without the comforts of the capitol.

Once you reconnected with Peeta the two of you headed back to a smaller station, identifying edible plants and roots. A relatively easy one for you, and it gave you and Peeta a chance to talk again.

“So, what did you and Thresh talk about?”

“I was asking him about being allies with us.”

“Anything with that?”

“Nothing.” You sighed, it was a shame. Peeta was so nice, but he was making mistakes. Even though you didn’t mind at the boy from 1, you would never talk to him in front of the other districts. That would be suicide none of the other districts would even think of considering to being allies. “Why were you talking to Glimmer?”

“She was trying to dig for information. See what we found out about the other tributes. Since we decided to talk to them yesterday.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, I told them no wanted to be allies. Which is true. Since you talked to Thresh and he said no.” You just nodded. If you kept up this whole charade of working together, you’d never be able to work with anyone else. And if came down to a fight you didn’t stand much of a chance.

This time at the cafeteria you didn’t talk to anyone. You were starting to panic, especially for the private sessions with the gamemakers, you weren’t sure what you were even going to do.

“Y/n?” Peetas voice snapped you back to reality, “Come on pretend I said something funny. We still have to keep this up.” You just complied, you weren’t trying to upset Haymitch and so far he’d actually been trying to help. This whole charade seemed to be so easy for Peeta, you wondered how much of everything he said was true. You were so tired, you wanted to get these games over with. Win or lose, at this point you didn’t care. Peeta had to ask you things several times and direct you on what to do, while you did enjoy Peeta’s company forcing yourself to work with only to possibly have to kill him in a few days was doing a number on your mind. The worst part was that because you liked him you wanted to work with him less and less, you would know it was all business with Thresh. Rue… well. Rue was different you were almost rooting for her to win at this point. Especially seeing her potential come out in training, she never missed with her slingshot and she was always climbing on equipment, it wasn’t until she had managed to steal one of the knifes Arioch had been training with that you realized you were underestimating her, Rue had potential, real potential to get far in this game and you wanted to help her do it. You tried not to think at what cost that might affect your own game.

Going back to training Peeta asked you again what you wanted to work on, you had told Haymitch your skill lied in spears and as you had come to find out knives, and it did but you weren’t sure you’d be able to practice that in front of the careers. Might as well get adept in other areas, your mind went to the bow.

“Can we try the arrows?”

“Why not, I’m sure you’ll knock it out like usual.” Peeta smiled at you, you couldn’t help roll your eyes and let out a small chuckle. You nudged him and headed towards the archery station. Unfortunately, you had done relatively well in most of the stations, but they were mostly the survival ones. The trap setting being your best one, but Peeta did much better at the hand-to-hand combat and swords. You remember how much it had irritated you because honestly the swords were heavy and awkward for you to deal with. You needed something lighter, its why you preferred the knives but the chances of getting them really were almost zero.

Peeta went first with the bow, he managed to hit the dummy but not by much. He might be able to stop someone if he got his hands on it but he certainly wouldn’t kill them, unless he got lucky. You noticed the careers watching you as you lined up to practice, you suddenly began panicking about this morning. Maybe Marvel had seen more than he let on. Why were they so close? You tried to slow your breathing as you released your first arrow, definitely hit the chest of the dummy but it was going to the right. Again. Your head dropped in frustration, while strands of your hair had fallen loose around your face you could see Arioch and Glimmer laughing at something he said. Marvels head was tilted and he raised an eyebrow, almost daring you to miss again. Fine. You remember that you used to hate when people doubted you but after a while you realized that it was actually a kind of a good thing. You loved proving people wrong.

“y/n we can just leave…” Peetas voice went in one ear and out the other as you nocked your bow and you readjusted your aim slightly to the left. Don’t overthink it you told yourself. Before Peeta could give you any other warning you drew your arm back and released that arrow. Finally. You shoot another at the head this time and it manages to land as well. You shoot another couple targets just for good measure all of your arrows now landing right in between where the eyes would be. Just like that day 2 of official training was over. Time to tone it back down.

“Do you want to try anything else?” You ask Peeta.

“Not much else to do.” He smiled at you, “Want to teach me how you did that? Or is that too much help?”

You cursed yourself internally, cursed Peeta for being so likeable. You handed the bow over to him and told him to find his dominant eye, then you started restating everything the instructor had said. He got a little better, but not by much. Peeta had never had to scrape for food, he needed to be able to imagine the target was something that needed to be killed. You thought of game, animals. In a few days, you wouldn’t be able to pretend you were killing deer. After he had exhausted his archery skills Peeta asked to switch one last time

“Hey, since we have about a half hour do you mind if we go back to the camouflage station?” You nodded and followed him, the two of you had just passed this station but Peeta had been really invested in it. He got straight to work on camouflaging his arm into a tree, if it wasn’t so infuriating it would be really impressive. Peeta had a lot more strengths than he had let on, and you wondered exactly how much he was sharing with you and Haymitch. You watched as he Peeta continued to blend his arm into different backgrounds, you had stopped trying a while ago, your fingers were too shaky whenever you tried. Your hands had to work with all at once, not deal with hyper precision. Its why you did well with the knots and knifes, it was quick no thought behind it, you could focus on other things.

“You know I used to do the cakes.” Peetas voice snapped you out of overthinking, again.

“The ones in the bakery? Those were always beautiful.” You commented, this seemed to satisfy Peeta enough that he didn’t need to talk any more. He smiled at your recollection of them. You hadn’t actually paid much attention to the cakes but your brothers always wanted to save for them, you thought the money you earned could be used elsewhere. Older sibling privileges won out most of them time, especially since there was no real need for cakes in 12. Few could afford cakes like the ones Peeta made. Anyways, he didn’t need to know how little you knew about him.

As he finally finished and was washing up you looked around the other tributes. They were all getting tired, all of them focusing on the weapons. Ignoring Atalas initial brief, sure everyone touched the fire making but that was about it. Except maybe Rue and Thresh. But that was because Rue followed you to almost every station at first, today she stayed near Thresh for the most part unless he went to one of the big fighting stations then she would hang back and watch or depending on where you and Peeta were she would tag along. Rue made it easier to talk to Peeta, she was shy and for whatever reason Peeta was good at making her smile. Another reason killing Peeta was going to be difficult.

Everyone filed out and you waited until Peeta went into his private quarters before sneaking back downstairs. You wanted to work on what you were going to show the gamemakers. The instructors were all gone and the room was finally empty. It was relaxing being able to practice without everyone around. You decided to pick up the bow and arrow again, you figured if you needed to try and get rid of someone from a distance. You shuddered at the thought of you planning it, these games were unnatural and you had to remember that.

“You’re definitely making improvements 12.”

You couldn’t whip around any faster you came face to face with Marvel again, he had a smirk knowing you’d been caught, and not to mention clearly freaking out. Before you could try and stammer anything out he held up his hand, effectively stopping you. You were furious at yourself for not being able to get it together.

“Relax 12. We know about the extra practice.” We? All of the careers? Why weren’t they in here? He tilted his head when he looked at you, clearly confused. “District 2 gets a little too fight-happy their mentors wont even bring up the practice. I meant me and Glimmer.”

“Don’t need the practice, I’m guessing?”

He looked down for a second, he seemed almost…sad? Did he not think he had a chance to win? All he needed to worry about was Arioch, if he was smart he would get him during the bloodbath, when he was distracted. He might be able to play it off as someone else. He shook it off quickly and out of nowhere his confidence was back.

“I think Glimmer might benefit.” He shrugged, “Don’t you think?”

“I’m not one to judge.” You stopped caring then, tomorrow would be the final day to really train before meeting with the gamemakers and you needed a good score. Besides if the careers knew about you anyway, it wouldn’t matter. You shrugged and grabbed another arrow and shot it at the dummy. You aimed for the head. It was close but not exact, how the hell did Katniss never manage to miss moving targets, you couldn’t even manage the ones that were still. You looked at Marvel who just raised his eyebrows, you desperately wanted to ask him for help but you knew that would get you nowhere. “Are you going to just stand there or are you going to pick something up?”

“I don’t know yet. Seeing you frustrated is pretty entertaining.”

You couldn’t help mocking him. A habit from messing with your siblings. But it did get a small laugh out of him, wouldn’t you know? The competition had a personality outside of the games.

“You want to try the combat station?” It was your turn to laugh

“Yeah right, I got my butt kicked everytime. And we aren’t supposed to fight each other.” You say as you start racking the bow and arrow

He clicked his tongue and threw me one of the sparring sticks. “Technically the rules say not to hurt any of the other contestants.”

Your lips twisted as you took in this information. Would it make that much of a difference in the end? He had already seen you eat the ground with the trainers. You shrugged and followed him up to the mat. It took less than a minute before he had you pinned down.

“Ugh. Get off. I’m going to get my butt handed to me out there.” You said as you dusted yourself off, but made no effort to get up

“Yeah you should really practice that.”

“I hate you.”

“Ooh ouch 12. Don’t be mad at me because you cant handle a fight.”

“You’re how much bigger than me? And you’ve had practice, fuck off.” He chuckled and offered to help you up. You tentatively took his hand and got up. You took this moment to use you leg to trip and get him on his back, “Yeah you’re right I do need practice.” You smiled down at him.

“That’s cheating.”

“Ha!” You jumped off the mat and headed towards the elevator, “Theres no cheating in the hunger games.”

It was almost dinner when you got back to your floor. Thankfully no one was really around to see you come in, you didn’t feel like answering any questions. You focused the rest of the night on tomorrow. This is when it all counted. You knew Haymitch had told you to save your skills from any of the tributes, well that didn’t work. As far as you knew Marvel told the rest of the career pack what you had been doing. You were the first one at the table, again. Haymitch came in next and you couldn’t help but start worrying about what exactly to show the gamemakers. Haymitch assured you that you had nothing to worry about. You had begun planning what to actually do for the gamemakers when Peeta joined you. You felt but you got quiet, you needed to draw some kind of line between the two of you before the games started. You couldn’t let your feelings get in the way, and Peeta was way too nice.

“What are you guys whispering about.”

“Y/ns just nervous about tomorrow, doesn’t know what to do.” Thank God for Haymitch, it was like he knew exactly when not to say too much.

“Why, its not like she doesn’t have an array of weapons to choose from. You should have seen her with the bow and arrow today. Shes amazing.” Dammit Peeta.

Haymitch raised his eyebrow at me, now you had to say something “And that sparring station was…what exactly? I was right from the beginning, if it comes to combat Peeta has a better chance than me. I ended up on the floor everytime.”

“Well, I don’t know if you can fight anyone during the private sessions Peeta but now is when you want to pull all the stops. Everyone will be in the same training uniform tomorrow so don’t worry about making yourself look nice.” This got a chuckle out of both of us, “You two are going to be the last to go so make it count.”

Effie had been listening to the whole conversation, which shocked you because she usually made quite an entrance. “You two are going to do just fine.” You weren’t exactly sure how much of that she believed but Effie was nothing if not polite. Her and Haymitch left to try and get information. Effie wanted to hear who people were leaning towards, as if she didn’t already know and try to sway them to look at us. Haymitch wanted to talk to the other victors, apparently they had somewhere they all gathered to watch the games and do whatever it is they did. You wondered if Cato would be there. He might have been willing to offer some more advice. Guilt hit you the second you had that thought, you didn’t want to use Cato for his advice. You genuinely enjoyed his company, he had just always been willing to help.

You started walking to your room, you had to at least try and get some rest before the private sessions tomorrow. You noticed you were lagging, a part of you wanting to relax on the roof again. You noticed Peeta had stayed in the common area, he looked as if he was trying to sleep himself. In the end you couldn’t help yourself, Peeta had tried his best to be friendly, you may as well do the same.

“Everything okay?” You asked as you sat next to him

“Just thinking about tomorrow I guess.”

“You’ll do fine Peeta, you’ve done really well in the combat stations. Those are important.” The thought of you losing to Marvel flashes through your mind, it was the one thing you probably wanted to improve and just couldn’t seem to get the hang of.

“What about the games? I’m not…I’m not cut out for them. You’re set, all you have to do is get your hands on some rope and you’ll outlive everyone. And if you get a hand on a weapon? You’ll win.”

“I doubt that, I don’t have the practice for it.”

“That’s not entirely true.” He smiled at you, he was right. You’re experience in the woods had given you a huge advantage, and it had allowed you to pick up a lot of new skills. Still, you didn’t dare get your hopes up. You needed to have your guard up.

“Y/n, you ever feel like you want to do something in these games?”

“Just survive honestly.” Peeta chuckled

“I don’t know I just hope that when I die I can still be me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just don’t want the games to change me.”

“How could you not though? Even the victors who didn’t have to kill anyone came out different. People have to die for you to win. How can you not change? I think it’s a package deal.”

“Yeah….maybe.” You weren’t really sure what to say next, in the end the capitol wants to see a good show. You just nodded, you didn’t think he needed to hear that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Peeta usual cheerfulness seemed feigned at the moment, “Yeah, sleep well. We got a big day ahead of us.” Well now you had to go to your quarters. You tossed and turned most of the night. It seemed like you were about to finally close your eyes when Effie knocked on your door to get you ready. You felt like you were walking through some kind of mud just to get to the breakfast table. Your body sore from training the day prior. As much as you needed the energy you couldn’t seem to eat.

“Come on sweetheart, nows not the time to be losing sleep. You’ll have plenty of time for that in the arena.”

You weren’t sure where it came from but as your head slumped into the crook of your elbow your other hand shot up flipping Haymitch off.

“Y/n!” Effie yelled

“She’ll be fine today.” Haymitch chuckled, at the end of the day Haymitch liked your temper. He threw a roll at your head and your spirits were lifted enough to eat as much as your nerves would allow you, not that it was much but it was something. You and Peeta were mostly silent on the ride down to the training center. Everyone had until lunch. Those few hours were dragging. Besides the careers and a handful of others, the tributes were scrambling to get in any practice that might give them an edge in the private sessions. You were frankly too tired and sore to use any possible energy until it was time. You and Peeta had wasted some time trying to work on identifying different plants. A relatively easy task for you, Peeta not so much. Even Rue came by and giggled at his many wrong attempts, you were lucky Prim really had been willing to talk to you about all the different kinds of plants you could find in 12, it made things much easier to remember.

Lunch was pretty silent, minus the career table talking loudly about how well they were going to do. The warning that the private sessions about to start got everyones attention. The boys were up first. Marvel got called up first, getting some cheers from his table. His demeanor was so different than when it had just been the two of you. Then again, you shouldn’t be too surprised, his alliance took priority. You’d only seen him a handful of times. It only took him around 10 minutes before he was done and headed towards the elevators. You could have swore he looked at you for a second but you’d only just caught his eye as you lifted your head to hear Glimmers name called out. Her session seemed to take longer. Maybe it was just because your eyes were still fighting to stay awake. You decided to rest your head in your arms. Your head shot up as the girl from 10 went in.

“Jesus y/n how late were you up last night?”

“That’s a great question Im not sure I want you to know the answer to.”

Peeta laughed, “Why not?”

“You might tell Haymitch, or worse Effie.” You were only half joking, if they knew you really hadn’t slept all night you’d never hear the end of it. Effie would probably have suggested some kind of Capitol concoction to knock you out. You looked at Thresh and Rue sitting off by themselves, it was just the four of you left. You motioned towards them to Peeta before trying to break the ice again, “Good luck you guys.”

Rue nodded, “You too.” Thresh had the ghost of a smile on his face. But he did a quick nod to you. And just like that he was called up. His session seemed to fly by and you were a nervous wreck, you wished rue luck again but you couldn’t stop shaking your leg in anticipation. Peeta tried to say something to you but you didn’t really hear him.

“What?”

“You’ll do fine.” He repeated, you nodded but your leg didn’t stop. Peeta put his hand on your leg and your attention was drawn away. His steady hand calmed you, if he was just playing a game he was doing a great job. Regardless, you appreciated his kind gesture. You patted his hand when his name was called, “Good luck, and don’t forget what Haymitch said.”

He smiled at you as he went in. It was just you now, you and your thoughts. You hoped your aim wouldn’t fail you. You got called back before you could see Peeta come out. Besides the careers none of the other tributes had come back through, nothing to brag about I guess. Your heart sank to your stomach, the gamemakers couldn’t look less interested. They had been there too long, they were probably ready to go home. No, they were just ready for lunch, some food was being brought in.

You cleared your throat to try and get their attention. “Uhm Y/n L/n. District 12.” Why did that last part sound like a question? One of the gamemakers told you to go ahead.

You decided to grab the arrows, you’d gotten much better at them. You managed to get a bullseye, well not exactly but it was close enough the gamemakers would think so. You got excited and went to grab the knives youd been practicing on your own. You threw them at the surrounding targets, it hit much more accurately. You wanted to do more maybe grab a spear next, it was your best chance at impressing the game makers you had thought but when you smiled and looked up you noticed that only a couple of the gamemakers were actually paying attention. Everyone else was focused on the pig that was being rought in. Your life was on the line and they couldn’t focus on you for another few minutes? Was lunch that important You grabbed another knife instead as you heard one of them wonder how they were going to cut into the pig. They had just finished setting the pig on the table when the knife left your hand. It landed above the apple and in between the pigs eyes. Suddenly all eyes were on you.

“You guys need a knife for that?” You could hear the venom in your voice. “Sorry to disturb your meal.” You spun on your heel and knocked over a stand with a bunch of swords and spears on it on your way out. Hot tears began streaming down your face. You immediately regretted your actions, after all the work you’ve put in. Now you doubted if you’d even make it into the games. You stormed into towards the elevators, you passed District 1&2 hanging around the lobby. Thankfully no one glanced in your direction, the last thing you needed is for them to see you as weak and puffy. You wiped your eyes as you opened the elevator doors, you’d never wished these weren’t made of glass as much as you did now. You smashed the button for the door to close. You could feel a pair of eyes on you but you refused to look up and kept your eyes trained on the floor.

The fresh air that once felt so refreshing and welcoming now felt like a slap to the face. But you felt like you would suffocate if you stayed inside any longer. You found yourself wishing again that you could talk to someone, and your mind flashed to Cato. God, why did he popping up? None of that mattered, you knew Effie and Haymitch were waiting for you but facing them felt worse than facing the hunger games at the moment, they had been trying to rally sponsors for you and Peeta. Now the gamemakers would give you such a low score no one would even look at you. You screamed into your hands, you just messed everything up. As you paced you found yourself knocking down and kicking any flower vases and making a mess. It did help the anger you felt but the guilt doubled when you thought of whatever poor avox might have to clean this up later. You tried, without much success to move all of the broken pottery shards but you started getting worked up again and decided to face Haymitch, it was almost dinner and they would be looking for you.

“Y/n there you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Effie wasted no time in fussing over you the second you stepped off the elevator.

“I was just getting some air…” She led you to the table as you mumbled your excuse

Cinna, Portia and the rest of your stylists were waiting for you, great. After the amazing job they did at the tribute parade, it just reminded you how much you had messed up. You could only imagine how puffy your face was, you thought about excusing yourself to go wash up but everyone was waiting on you to talk about the scores. You decided to sit next to Peeta this time

As the adults start their small talk he leans over to whisper to you “You okay?”

You shake your head, no point in hiding. It was clear to anyone you had not had a good day. You keep your eyes trained on the rolls you were nibbling on after that.

As they start serving the main course Haymitch finally asks what you’ve been dreading, “Alright.” He says as he stands up to go to the bar to get some kind of spirit, “How bad was it?”

Peeta goes first quickly saying no paid him any attention and he just threw heavy things until they eventually told him to leave. You avoided looking up at the rest of the team waiting for you to go next

“And you, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked as he began pouring his drink, well theyre going to see your score sooner or later.

“Well.” You tried to make it seem like a smaller deal than it was, it did not work, “The gamemakers said they needed a knife, and I helped them find one.”

Everyone stopped eating. Even Haymitch though his back was turned was still, “And just what do you mean you helped them?” He asked you

You sighed, “Well the pig they had ordered didn’t come with a kinfe and it seemed pretty important so I just…sort of, maybe” your voice dropped to a mumble “threw one at their direction.”

Effie is first to break the silence, “You what???”

“I mean I didn’t throw it at them, I threw at the pig. Since apparently that was more important than me trying my best to get a good score for sponsors.” You could hear the initial annoyance at their actions rising again, “I’m sorry… I just lost it, I was doing really good, or at least I thought I was and they wouldn’t even look at me!”

“Y/n, what did they say?” Cinna asks carefully

“I—I’m not sure. I left after that.”

“You weren’t dismissed?” Effie looks as if she is about to pass out “Haymitch!” She turns to him looking for some help to scold me, I’m sure but Haymitch surprises even me when he just turns around with a smile and his thumb up.

“Well Sweetheart, I know I told you to make an impression but that’s—that’s something.”

“Will they hurt my family for what I did?” You voice must have sounded desperate because Haymitch patted your shoulder before he sat back down

“I wouldn’t worry about that, theyd have to say what happened in there. Its supposed to be a secret, more likely than not they will try and make your life hell in the arena.”

“Isn’t that already the goal?” You asked

Haymitch shrugged, you’re glad he wasn’t upset at you. You had managed to work well to Haymitch and the last thing you wanted was to waste his efforts. He started chuckling to himself, “What did they do when you threw it?”

All eyes were on you again, but everyones curiosity was piqued and you could feel a smirk growing on your face, “Its not supposed to be funny, but some of them were ridiculous. One of the men screamed like a girl and backed into someone else who fell into a punch bowl. The rest of them were mostly shocked.”

Haymitch laughs harder than you’ve ever seen. The others are laughing into themselves, even Effie who is trying hard to not look at the table to hide her smile, “It serves them right. Their job is to pay attention to you and give you a decent score.” Her eyes grow wide and darts to the other capitol members at the table who thankfully for Effie nodded in agreement, still she said “I’m sorry but that’s how I think.” You remember how even out on the roof where the wind would pick up Cato was wary of saying anything. It shouldn’t surprise you that the capitol was always listening, the scary part was how scared a small opinion could make someone like Effie and more so a career like Cato. You wondered how they would feel about all the things you had to say. You tried to distract her by bringing the conversation back to your score

“I’m not going to get anything higher than a 1.”

Portia, Peetas stylist speaks up “Oh scores only matter if they’re really good. If anything it could be a strategy to do poorly. Some people have done that. And from what Haymitch has said that’s what the other tributes will think.” She reaches across the table to squeeze your hand.

“Well why don’t we go to the living room? The scores will be getting televised soon!” Octavia clapped her hands together and began getting up. Regardless of what you would get, you were at least more relaxed about the outcome. Effie and Haymitch could spin something up about your low score if it came to it. Peeta is worried about his score thinking he will only get a four after just throwing around obe of the bigger weights around. At least you would be in this together.

The capitol insignia flies across the screen, tonight everyone in every district will see the chances of all of their loved ones on live television. Today your family would see how you would fare against some of the careers. Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith begin excitedly talking about the games and how exciting it will be to see the scores we turn out. It irritated you, how this was seen so casually as nothing more than a game to these people. Your life was on the line and they were talking as if this was another news day.

The careers scores all range from the eight to ten range. Not surprising. The rest of the tributes range across the boards. A few of the stick out, the girl from 5, Hana you think, getting a 2. The boy from 10 got a 9, interesting you thought, He had mostly kept to himself. Rue getting a 7, that was impressive, you tried to not be too happy for her, especially not in front of your team. Thresh pulled out a 10 as well also, not surprising. Finally, its Districts 12’s turn. Peeta’s face comes up on the screen. Everyone is silent before an 8 flashes across his face. Everyones starts congratulating him while your name and picture pops up on the screen, it was interesting seeing yourself. You looked so…serious? Initmidating? You weren’t quite sure. You braced yourself as the team began shushing and getting quiet to hear your score. Then after 5 excruciatingly long seconds you see the eleven pop up on your screen.

Wait. An Eleven??

Effie’s squeal breaks the silence suddenly everyone is congratulating you. The highest score out of all the tributes. Theres no way. You look at Haymitch as he claps your shoulder,

“They must have liked your attitude. This is a show after all, they need some players that will make the games interesting.”

“The girl on fire,” Cinna says as he gives you a hug, “Just wait until you see the dress we have planned for tomorrow.”

“More pretend fire?”

“You’ll see.” Cinna was entirely too excited for tomorrow. And whatever he had planned was going to make a statement. His mischievous smile told you everything you needed to know.

When the adults stepped to the side you and Peeta were left facing eachother, your smile fading when you saw his expression but before you could ask anything he spoke “Congrats y/n.”

After that he turned and left. You weren’t even able to congratulate him back. Was he upset you got a higher score than him? That wasn’t your fault? Not entirely anyways. You weren’t going to let this ruin your night, you had just gotten an 11. You could worry about Peeta another time. You retired to your quarters, finally cleaning yourself off. The tantrum you had thrown earlier had worn you out, but you were determined to go to bed refreshed. Refreshed and ready. Now you could just wake up and start training for the interviews. Since you had volunteered this was the first and last night (you assumed) of decent sleep you would get for awhile.

You woke up feeling very refreshed the next day, you let your hair stay down since Cinna and the stylists would be in charge of it later. By the time Effie knocked on your door to tell you it was going to be ‘a big big day.’ You were out ready to step out and ended up being the first one at the breakfast table. You thought briefly about you would be doing back home, but besides setting up traps for the week with your brother there wasn’t much else to Sundays. Peeta and Effie joined you next. Peeta still seemed annoyed. You hoped he wouldn’t let it affect training. Haymitch barely had a minute to sit down before Peeta decided to clear his throat to speak up.

“I think its time me and y/n trained separately.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Cato’s POV

You were starting to get a headache. Arioch had been moaning non stop since last night. More like screaming and throwing a fit but now it had come down to moaning, both him and Clove were being insufferable. Everyone but you and Enobaria had stopped watching after District 4’s training scores. The year before you would have done the same, but you were interested in how the other tributes had done. Well, more like you wanted to see how District 12 had done You weren’t sure when you got so invested in their training. Especially y/ns, you had found yourself wondering how she was doing in training more often than not. You couldn’t really understand it. But you’d paid attention to whatever Arioch and Clove would debrief after practice. Apparently after egging her on she’d shown she was pretty adept at the bow and arrow. Which was interesting as she had never mentioned that, then again she had been careful not to reveal too much to you. It must have been pretty good if Arioch had said she had potential, he didn’t even talk that way about his own allies.

You saw the boy from 12 come up first, not bad with an eight. The competition was actually decently impressive, not that Arioch would know he wasn’t paying attention. Apparently y/n had endeared to Enobaria because she began shushing everyone when y/n’s picture came up on the screen. Thankfully everyone got quiet enough just as her score was passing through. While you usually kept a straight face even you couldn’t help your shock and Enobaria was now trying to cover her surprise as well covering her mouth with her hands.

That was the start of Arioch’s temper tantrum. Not only had y/n done well but she had the best score. Arioch crushed the glass he had in his hand and a slew of curse words came out of his mouth. While everyone tried to clean and calm him down you once again retreated to the roof, half hoping to see y/n there to congratulate her. What you found was a mess. The flower pots that decorated the roof were thrown and shattered all over the floor. Something had not gone well today.

Worse than that you felt anxious to see how y/n would do after that score. While it may have gotten her some sponsors, it also painted a huge target on her back. Not any more than the parade but now they knew she was a force to be reckoned with. The mentors were all about interviews tonight. Arioch as annoying as he was put on a good show. As he should because if anyone from the capitol saw he behaved he’d never get any sponsors, even his fake persona was boring the only thing he had in his favor was that he came from District 2. Clove was the same, but in a different way while Arioch tried to make himself look like a decent person Clove was determined to have everyone see her as vicious and some to be afraid of. You’d seen the other female tributes she didn’t have much to worry about.

The whole day was prepping your tributes on how to answer Caesars questions. Its mind numbingly boring. You found yourself tapping your leg as you counted down the minutes for the interviews to actually start. The mentors and stylists were lining up the tributes. Well, depending on how many mentors on a few of you actually got to go and do last touchups. You hung around with your babysitters just to see the ridiculous get ups they had put the tributes in. You had to look away from Rue when you had a flashback to your games. She was too young. District 12 came in matching again. Not exactly but they complimented eachother well, they were still going at this like partners. At least thats what their mentors were doing. For whatever reason you couldnt keep your eyes off of y/n her red dress complimented her tan skin beautifully. As the tributes walked past all of the mentors to stand in line she caught your eye and smiled at you. You werent sure how you felt about that.

Once Glimmer was called up the mentors all sat around a screen behind the stage. You sat next to Haymitch wondering if you could get something out of him.

“Looks like 12 has a chance this year.”

“Hmph. We’ll see how tonight goes first.”

“No chance on me knowing what she did to get that 11?”

“To be honest kid, we don’t know what she did to get that 11.”

You turned your eyes back to the screen.

As the tributes each hyped themselves up Haymitch began to try and get information out of you, “Where’d the sudden interest for our district come from?”

You shrugged, “I’d be interested to know about anyone who managed to score an 11 around here.”

The interviews were the same as always quick 3 minutes. One of the few visitors from District 11 came to steal Haymitch for a drink when their district came up. Rue interview was finishing as she asked everyone to not count her out, you thought about her score as well. A seven, not bad for someone so small, better than a lot of the older ones even, you wondered how she would have fared had she joined the games later. The guy from 11 was quiet refusing to answer anything Caesar asked, then it was y/ns turn.

She was quick to get up and greet Caesar.

“So, Y/n , the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What’s impressed you most since you arrived here?” Caesar started easy with his question

“Oh the food easily.” This got a laugh out of Caesar and the Audience, “Can I tell you a secret though?”

“Of course you can!”

“I can’t stand your shoes, I barely made it up here and Cinna wants me to show you guys something but I’m pretty sure I’ll fall over.”

Caesar began laughing agreeing that they probably don’t have the events for those kinds of shoes in 12 . This seemed to set her off but she played it off by saying how she was determined not to fall. She stood up and she began to spin around, flames began engulfing her. You wondered if she had actually talked to Cinna about this, regardless the crowd was losing their minds. You could feel yourself struggling to swallow.

Caesar begged her to keep going but she really did seem dizzy, stating she should have removed the shoes after all. The capitol was eating her up. Had she not had such an impressive outfit with the tribute parade most of them would have fallen asleep by now, everyone would remember the ‘girl on fire.’

Caesar finished the interview with a more hard hitting question. Saying how touched he was to see her volunteer for that family. You felt Haymitch stiffen. They had practices this question.

“Well, both of our fathers were in this really bad mining accident and mine well—we were lucky he was able to make it out but the little girl, Prim, her and her sister lost their father. Her older sister and I are the same age and our families are so close I don’t know what she would do if she lost her sister. But to be perfectly honest, a part of me had been wanting to do this for my own family. My dad was still injured and we have counted on the extra tesserae from to get by a lot. If I won maybe my family could finally relax for awhile, I’d always been to scared to volunteer but when Prim was called and Katniss was screaming for her. It just felt like the right time, and it was my last chance to do something different with my life.”

The best lies always had some kind of truth to them. This. This was a good lie. You looked at Haymitch exhaling in relief before taking another shot of something. A lot of the crowd was tearing up. If the tributes didn’t think she would get sponsors before, they would now. She was already a threat in the game but now she could be unstoppable. You wondered what weapon she had impressed the game makers with again. Then you wondered why you seemed to take such an interest in her success or lack thereof in the games.

Caesar said a few more words to finish up her time and she exited the stage. Haymitch clapped his hands on his lap.

“Well that’s my cue.” Haymitch left to go greet her, maybe lead her to the waiting area with the rest of the tributes, or probably watch the last interview in their own rooms. Some of the other mentors from 2 stayed behind but most of them had gone to watch Arioch and Cloves cameras from the floor. You looked at Enobaria and she nodded for you to follow her. Usually you’d be annoyed at being told what to do but what else was there to do but wait for everyone to finish.

Most of the mentors were talking, you saw your other babysitter sitting on the couch and having a drink. The interview still playing, you sat down next to him.

“How’s he doing?” You asked

Brutus shrugged, “he hasn’t really been asked enough for me to tell.”

You came to find out it was because Caesar was waiting until the end to ask the best question. Baiting him to talk about someone he was interested in so Caesar could encourage him to win. Peers began talking about how he was pretty sure the girls weren’t interested.

“She have another fellow?” Caesar may have asked this to get him talking but one thing that tied the capitol people together was gossip.

“I don’t know, but there’s alot of guys interested in her.” The camera panned to the crowd many of them holding their hands over their hearts. District 12 was giving them a show. Caesar encouraged Peeta to win. Suddenly you heard a shush from your left. Brutus got invested when the poor guy said winning wouldn’t help his case. Enobaria stood behind you and Brutus as Caesar asked for more elaboration.

“Why ever not?” It was a good question, winning anyone desirable in your own districts. Realization hit you a second before Peeta answered one of his final questions. You could feel the rest of the mentors crowd the viewing area behind you.

“Well Caesar…she—she came her with me.”

It was safe to say it was a pretty collective shock. Most everyone’s mouths dropped. Both in that viewing room and in the crowd. Gasps filled the air. The camera panned over to y/n, who seemingly was just as shocked as everyone else. Her face was stunned and she quickly buried it into her hands, the camera panned back but you wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed like that the rest of the interview session. Caesar pitied him and gave even more praise to y/n, saying it would be hard to not fall for her. A part of you was agreeing.

Peeta wasn’t done working the crowds yet, “I wouldn’t be surprised if has even caught some other tributes attention.”

“You think so?” Caesar prodded, Peeta just shrugged. Caesar began to say what a shame they couldn’t bring y/n back up. Peeta finished shortly after, with Caesar wishing the best of luck and the crowd roaring with approval. You tried to see y/ns face as they had to stand for the captions anthem, her face had turned from a pretty obvious red to stone. Her eyes never left the floor and she walked so fast when they were told to leave it was almost a run.

Arioch was unsurprisingly throwing a fit when we got in the room. More broken glass everywhere, Jesus the mess he left in every room was absolute destruction. You wondered if any avoxes got in trouble for his whining.

“God. Shes SO annoying.” He screamed as a glass flew by your head. This guy. He was going to cause you to blackout one day and then everyone will be having issues. You had to leave on several occasions and twice this week Brutus had to sedate you when you tried to shut him up yourself.

“Seeing her spin makes me sick. Who does she think she is?” Clove added her arms crossed, “she’s an embarrassment to the games.”

“And then lover boy pulls that card??? Argh!” He grabs another glass from the table to throw against the wall.

You nudged Enobaria and she just nodded and let you leave. You slipped into your quarters until his screaming died down almost an hour later. Probably resting or trying to rest for the games tomorrow. Finally, the week was of feigning admiration for the games was over. The tributes weren’t the only ones with interviews. Most of the mentors were asked how they felt about the competition this year. Especially as last years victor you’ve had to pretend to feel as if everyone had a chance at least in front of the reporters. You made sure to remain impartial but say that you were confident in your district. You don’t know how Finnick wasn’t exhausted by it all and it was only your first year. You had hoped to avoid after last years incident but the capitol somehow buried or maybe purposefully forgot the news of you almost killing a civilian within your first few months back. You weren’t looking forward to the crowning ceremony. Having to pretend the winner would be living a fine and dandy life.

You decided to go to the rooftop, needing to calm yourself down. Again. Another part of you was hopeful, for what you weren’t that sure of. You felt something lift in you when you saw y/n laying across the bench again. Her arms were covering her face, you hope she wasn’t planning on doing that in the games.

“You know if you sleep like that in the games you’ll never make it.”

“Sleep sounds nice. But if they walk like you then I’ll be able to hear them from a mile away.” She slowly sat up and smiled at you. You sat down next to her.

“That was definitely one of the more interesting interviews.” You said as you sat down next to her

She rolled her eyes, and buried her head in her hands “It was a disaster.”

“You’ve gotten the attention of the capitol that’s a good thing.”

“Ha!” She flipped her hair back up, “the capitol and every tribute out there. I’m going to be the first one everyone tries to get rid of.”

You paused as you thought about it. If anyone felt close to what Arioch was screaming it certainly did paint a target on her, then again… “didn’t you get an 11?”

“That was a mistake. I shouldn’t have gotten that, but I was hoping I would be able to play it off and have people forget about it after the interviews.”

“I mean you kinda did, or Peeta did anyway.” The name set off a groan as she repeated her earlier action but this time she let herself fall accidentally leaning her head on your arm. Your body didn’t hide the shock well, you stiffened immediately

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to do that.” Y/n straightened up.

“It’s fine.” You chuckled, it wasn’t. But you were a good liar. What you didn’t like was that your brain was having issues forming any thoughts that made sense. “So, you wanna tell me what got you that eleven?”

She couldn’t help the grin that grew on her face, even as she looked away to hide it it was clear that she had done something she was not supposed to.

“All I can say is your…uhm throwing lessons helped me out.” The knife thing? What exactly had she done to be more impressive than clove? She saw you trying to figure it out, “You can ask Haymitch once I’m out of the games.”

“You could win.”

“Not likely now that everyone assumes me and Peeta are going to be working together.”

“Weren’t you guys going to do that anyway? Isn’t that you guys were always together?”

“No! He even asked to not train with me after the private sessions. And I wasn’t planning on working with him at all. Why get attached when only one person makes it out?”

Made sense I guess, “and the whole ally thing?”

“I mean you all go in knowing it won’t last, but Peetas stupid lie messed that up.”

“There’s no way he’s lying.”

“Yes he was, we talked about who he liked while we were training together. He said he knew I was the only one who was going to get sponsors and he needed attention on him. Haymitch said it was a good thing because it made ‘desirable’ but I don’t want to worry about pretending I have feelings for him. I mean—“ her eyes widened “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I was just talking your ear off. You’re really easy to talk to.”

“You’re probably the only person who thinks that.” She just shrugged. You knew she would have to go back soon. Probably at least try to get some sleep. Unfortunately you felt the same about her, she was one of the only people you actually wanted to talk to. “Did you see the damage that happened out here the other day? Someone made a mess out of Al the stuff up here.”

You knew it had been her but you still wanted to see how much she was willing to say, “don’t remind me. I felt so bad i was trying to clean up and I think I made it worse. That was after the gamemaker sessions.”

“You thought it went that bad?”

“They weren’t even looking at me. You guys are lucky going early, but I was the last one. Almost all of them were looking at the lunch that had just been brought in.”

You never knew the other districts had that kind of disadvantage. You assumed the game makers took turns or something. I guess you never even really cared beforehand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“Still if that had happened during my session…I don’t know what id do.” You paused because you knew exactly what you would have done. You would have thrown a fit worthy enough to match Ariochs.

“Yeah it’s not great. But somehow I guess I got their attention.” You could she was hesitant.

“Nervous?”

“Terrified.” She said as she looked up at the stars. “Anyway enough about me, what about you? Still can’t sleep?”

“Hard to sleep when all I hear is Arioch complaining.”

“He is very…determined.”

A laugh escaped you, “yeah I guess you could call it that.”

You met her eyes, you could see she knew there was more to it. Maybe she didn’t want to know the actual answer but she didn’t push. The fireworks had been going off but you didn’t notice it until the last one illuminated the sky signaling everyone to go home.

She sighed, you both knew it was time to get up. Still, neither of you loved for a moment. “We should probably try and get some sleep huh?”

“You? Definitely.” She chuckled at your response. You intended to get up and start heading to the elevators but you stood up too quickly almost knocking y/n over . You grabbed her arms before she fell over the bench. She gripped on to the side of your shirt sleeve to try and catch herself. You pulled her back way too hard. It couldn’t have been more than a couple seconds but you stood her up to close to you. Her face face looked up at your and was inches away. You both noticed you were still holding eachother at the same time. She released your sleeve and patted your arm.

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to—“

“It’s okay.” She smiled as she took a step back “probably should have waited to stand up.”

You could feel your cheeks burn. Probably bright red. You assumed at your mistake. You weren’t usually so careless with your actions. You could feel your heart running in your ears.

“You coming?” She said as she pressed button on the elevator. You just nodded and got in with her. Her floor almost immediately stopping, she slightly bowed her head and smiled again as she got out. You wish you could have answered those interviews honestly. If you could get on a tribute it would be her. You thought about telling her that. The doors would start to close soon,

“Hey 12.” She turned around immediately, the doors coming to a close “I hope you can make it back.”

Her eyes seemed sad, it was clear she thought her chances really were next to zero. Still she offered one last smile, “me too.”

Taglist: @chloe-skywalker

#Hunger Games #The Hunger Games #hunger games cato #hunger games imagine #hunger games cato imagine #cato x reader

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