#also as to why i was raking out in the cold we were all doing some garden work while it was still warm

[appocalipse]

MAKE IT EASY : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2 ❥・3.8k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

requested by my beloved @stevebabey 🥺

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.

・❥・

It was the epitome of a terrible idea.

And it had started that day. 

The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work — not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.

You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.

Weird.

"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."

It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because — luckily — things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.

He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kinda…There's something I wanted to-"

You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, just…can we talk?"

"Of course."

He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"

For Steve, of course you could.

Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.

He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."

Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"

Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest and…vulnerable?

"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish… but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it. 

Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?

"But why would you-"

"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."

"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?" 

You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.

Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground. 

"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me like…well, you know how they treat me."

Indeed, you knew.

Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.

And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.

+

It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.

But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.   

Why are you trying so hard, though?

"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.

There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise.  

With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake. 

You're late. 

Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself into…you just can't reach it.

The doorbell rings.

The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?      

You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.

HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve. 

You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help — mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.

"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"   

Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.

"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes.  

"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words. 

If he notices, he doesn't say anything.  

Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne — citrusy fruit and wood notes — as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.    

For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipper…or something else entirely. 

His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.

"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."  

You laugh.   

"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."

A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door...   

Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of you…

Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.

"Thank you... for the flowers."

The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.   

"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"

Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none.  

"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."

It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner.   

So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.

"You okay?"  

Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes.  You must have taken too long.

"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"

Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.

You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.

Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parents…but why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"

There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.

"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"

"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"

He looks away for a moment before answering.

"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."

You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.

"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."

Steve smiles briefly and nods.

"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."

You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.

Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.

As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.

The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.

It's not like you expected anything different.

"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."

"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."

Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.

Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.

All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.

You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."

Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.

Thank you, he mouths.

You smile back.

During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.

Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at least…unusual.

As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.

By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.

As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.

"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?

As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.

"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.

In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.

When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after you— out of politeness, mind you — said it's really not necessary. 

"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."

You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."

"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration there…maybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.

The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one night…doesn't it?

Are you imagining this?

"Steve..."

You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.

He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skin….and then it's over.

Steve pulls back slowly. 

"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank you…for today."

"You're welcome."

It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind. 

Well…shit.

The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors — which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.

With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.

"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.

Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Well, too late.

"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"

His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.

"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"

"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."

"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."

He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.

"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.

"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."

You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.

He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.

Breathe in. 

The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.

Breath out. 

You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean to…but he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"

"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."

I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck — because of course  it had to — the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.

"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."

There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.

Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."

Oh.

"Steve-"

Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.

"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.

Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.

"I did it!"

His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close — and technically partly undressed — you are.

And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.

Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.

Kissing.

Did he notice that too?

You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, well…no matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.

"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybe…

Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next. 

So close...

You hold still.

In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing. 

"Steve…" you slowly tilt your head to the side.

Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more. 

He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closer…but he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.

He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."

Bam.

Door closed.

And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.

He just…pulled away. 

What the hell was that?

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve x you #steve x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington drabble

[steppin-on-the-last-train]

Happy Xmas (War Is Over)

Natasha Romanoff x Taskmaster!Reader

Summary: Settling down within S.H.I.E.L.D hasn't been easy, but Christmastime is here, and Clint Barton extends an invitation that seems too good to be true. You follow him to his farmhouse where you're met with a few surprises. With Natalia by your side, you try to accept your new life in America, and maybe find some holiday spirit along the way.

Foreword: Happy Holidays everyone! This is a beast of a fic (14.5k words) so strap in. It's also very much an original character just written in second person, but I hope you enjoy.

You sat slouched on a sofa in the common room of SHIELD headquarter’s residential wing. You weren’t sure why the designers had felt the need to include this room. Spies weren’t well known for their extroverted nature. But the holidays had left the area quiet, rather the entire building seemed to have wound down with the slowing nature of the cold and snow outside. You found the space to be useful when you became sick of staring at the same four blank walls of your standard issue apartment. Having recently defected from Russian ranks you and Natalia weren’t allowed to leave campus without an escort, which left you exactly three places to spend downtime. Your room, Natalia’s room–which looked exactly like yours save for a book Barton had given her–or the common area. 

The two of you were working on the latest mission report. Well, you were supposed to be working on the write-up, but the end of year evaluations had been released and yours begged to be raked over. So Natalia worked on hers, fingers diligently tapping away at the keys. She was sitting sideways along the couch, legs lounged over your lap and back to the armrest. You didn’t know how she found the position comfortable. You narrowed your eyes at your computer screen and the unkind words it harbored. “Do you think I am uncooperative and have a tendency to disobey the orders of superiors?” You asked the redhead.

She looked up from her laptop, eyes searching your profile. “Where is this coming from?”

“The end of year assessments,” you frowned. “They are out.” 

“I thought we were working on the reports for the Minsk mission.” She raised a reprimanding eyebrow. 

“I was,” you said, dragging out the second word ever so slightly. “But they are just so tedious now. Why do they need to know the amount of bullets I used? I miss when all we had to do was take a photo of the dead guy for proof of accomplishment.” Natalia nudged your ribs with her foot. “Ow,” you complained.

“We do this because it’s the normal thing to do. Because what we do in the field is necessary, but the violence has to be justified so we can continue doing our jobs.” She tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from her braid behind her ear. “We’re with the good guys now,” she reminded gently. “The world may still be brutal, but we don’t have to be anymore.”

“So we count the bullets,” you concluded.

“So we count the bullets,” she stated. A moment of silence passed, only the sound of Natalia resuming her typing filling the air. That was something you were still getting used to. Silence always preceded something terrible, the inhale before you faced hell on earth. “You are uncooperative.”

“What?” You asked, turning to face her indifferent expression.

“Your question from earlier. I’m answering it.”

“You too?” You shook your head. “You are supposed to take my side, not Fury’s.”

“You are the person who let themselves get captured by the enemy after you heard they’d gotten to me. And,” she paused, “if you finished that report you’d get to the part where you chose not to listen to Agent Riley.”

“I had it handled,” you said, reaching for your coffee cup on the side table.”That man thinks he knows what is better just because he has fifteen years on me. I think he is too cautious. That is why the Americans are leagues behind us in intelligence. They do not have the guts to do what needs to be done.”

“We are Americans now,” she reminded. You wrinkled your nose. “I mean for all intents and purposes, you get that.” She put her laptop on the coffee table and sidled next to you. You could feel her warmth bleed into you where your bodies met. Her knees pressed into your legs, her shoulders turned into your chest. “You can do it, I know you can,” she whispered, taking your hand.

“Do what?” You asked dubiously. 

“Beat them. Unlearn what they taught us. You just have to make an effort.” She put a hand on your cheek, fingertips caressing the side of your face. You almost swore she wanted you to kiss her. You swallowed down nothing but a bubble of air and desire. Not today.

You looked at her, gaze narrowing. “I am here, am I not?” Two large windows allowed the morning light to stream in behind Natasha and wash her in a fresh aura. The blue sky shined bright as fat snowflakes whirled down to meet the pavement of the U.S. capital. Far below, pedestrians hustled from building to building, jackets pulled tight against the cold. Your heart began to pound when you thought about calling this place home. Everything was just so wrong. “I think fighting the urge to run is about all I can manage right now. I believed in the cause, at least I think I did. Turning my back on the Red Room, on him any faster and I think I might break.”

“I know, and I see you. But you have to show them that,” she said, tapping the now black computer screen.

“Like you do? Do not tell me you actually trust anyone here.”

“I don’t,” she said carefully, as if there might exist an exception. “But you have to cooperate, to let someone else take the reins for now.”

“I do not know if I can.” You bit your lip and traced the room with your eyes. The clean, modern furniture and the off-white walls. You knew you shouldn’t but you missed the familiarity of the old wooden mansion. “I am not like you Talia. I cannot see the good in people.”

“And I’m not asking you to. Do you trust me?” She asked, eyes that reminded you of the dawn of spring boring into yours.

“Always,” you breathed, not missing a beat. “You are the only thing in this world that makes sense to me.”

“Then follow my lead. I’m worried about you. I don’t want you digging a hole you can’t climb out of.”

“Okay, I will try.” You were not sure you meant it. Humanity given too much freedom would eat itself alive. A familiar mantra marched across the back of your mind like the incessant buzz of an insect. Correct and control. Correct and control. Correct and control. Correct–

A noise from down the hall caught your attention. Quick footsteps heading your way echoed into the room. You looked at Natalia. The two of you had thought everyone else had left the building for the holidays. 

A frazzled Clint Barton walked into the room, looking about to take off in a full sprint. He wore faded blue jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. A duffel bag hung over his shoulder, storing a fair amount of his belongings if you had to guess. He glanced in your direction, but refused to slow his stride. You watched him go, when suddenly he dug his heel into the ground and spun around.

“What are you guys doing here?” He asked as if just now processing your presence. 

“Working,” Natalia answered. You liked Barton well enough and there was no question that you owed him an unpayable debt for sparing Natalia’s life. He looked unassuming, quick to smile and kept a short crop of hair as blonde as a field of wheat. You weren’t quite on casual speaking terms though, not because he bothered you, no. It’s just you weren’t keen to talk to anyone except the girl still halfway sprawled across you. 

He furrowed his brow and adjusted the strap across his shoulder. “It’s Christmas Eve,” he stated plainly, as if that in itself was explanation enough. 

“It is,” Natalia agreed. 

“Well you can’t sit in here all day.” He made a sweeping gesture about the room and all of its bareness and almost surgical detachment. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, silent surprise weaving its way across his face. Feeling off put, you fixed your posture, spine straightening and causing Natasha to slide away. You had yet to encounter him outside of a professional setting, but here you sat wedged into the couch and rather at ease. You wore sweats, albeit SHIELD issue, but still something you’d normally not be caught around in.

“And why is that?” Natalia asked, tone laced with faux confusion. She blinked at Barton, eyes doe-wide.

He shifted his stance and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re really going to make me say it?” He waited, looking at Natalia indignantly. “It’s sad. You can’t stay at work during Christmas.”

“What would you suggest we do?” She asked, still playing her one-sided game. Bemusing to you, but not so much to the Hawkeye.

“I don’t know. Go home? That’s what I’m doing.” Home, you thought. If you ran back to the place you still called home, SHIELD would call for your head. Even still, the house beckoned out to you in your dreams; not warm, never safe, but structured and oh so familiar. Come home my child, a gruff voice compelled. Come and take your rightful place as my sword and shield. 

Something behind Natasha’s eyes flickered for a moment before disappearing behind a wall of apathy. “There’s not exactly a home for me to go back to.”

“Oh. That’s right. Erm,” Barton stammered. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget.”

“Forget that I’m an outsider?”

“That’s one way to put it I suppose. I mean, you’re one of us now, right? We all come from different places so in a way we’re all outsiders. Most of us have pasts we’d rather forget. You don’t do the kind of thing we do because you grew up with two loving parents,” he said.

Natalia tilted her head, hair brushing against your neck. “And where did you come from?”

He smiled, one side of his mouth pulled slightly higher than the other. “Nice try Romanoff. Put a couple of beers in me first and you might have better luck.”

“Oh that’s right, I forgot. Fury found you wandering around the sewers,” she teased. You didn’t know who she did it. How she joked and spoke so freely. How she saw a friend and ally where you saw a threat and a future enemy.

“Ha ha,” he said dryly, lips still curled in a smile. “You’re actually not too far off.” He waited before saying more, eyes flicking to you as they often did when the three of you gathered together. Patiently offering a chance for you to join the conversation, but never calling you out. You were running out of excuses to mistrust the man. “Even still, you guys ought to get out of here. Drive to New York or something. They put up a giant tree in Times Square. I’ve never seen it in person, but,” he raised an arm for emphasis. “Huge.”

This time Natalia’s expression fell for long enough even Barton picked up on it. She turned away from him and stared down at her hands. “I’d love to see that,” she murmured. “We can’t leave though. Not yet. Not without an escort from an authorized superior.” Technically there was nothing stopping you from leaving the building. You’d picked up the nasty habit of prowling the streets in the dead hours of the morning after a nightmare left your hands shaky and your heart clawing its panicked way up your throat. Natalia however had not made one move even remotely close to toeing SHIELD’s strict line. A fact made clear when she’d caught you sneaking back in as the sun rose one morning. You’d promised not to do it again with an overwrought frown on your face. You went out again the very next night and left a mugger to bleed out in an alleyway.

“Oh, that’s right.” It was Barton’s turn to look away. “You know what?” He asked, lifting his chin and pulling out a cell phone. He let the duffle bag down from his shoulder and onto the ground, putting the phone to his ear. Natalia looked at you and you shrugged. She knew him better than you anyway.

“Hey honey,” he said, not bothering to turn away or lower his voice. You didn’t know he had a girlfriend. Between the way you had only ever seen him consume pizza and his obsession with trying to make the most difficult shots possible on missions you had assumed he was single. “I’ve got a pair of stragglers here at the office.” He paused, sucking on his teeth for a moment. “I know, I know I was just about to get on the road I promise. I’ll still be home by five. No, I’ll be careful, I won’t get a speeding ticket this time.” He adjusted the phone and flicked his gaze in your direction. “Yeah, Laura, it’s them. You know me. They don’t have anywhere to go and I thought.” He paused. Slowly, a dopey grin curled onto his face. “Yeah, I do. You know I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t.” A final pause. “Okay. I’ll see you later. Love you.” He stuffed the phone back in his pocket and looked up with new excitement sparkling in his eyes. “Have you guys ever been to Iowa?”

Natalia shook her head. “No. I’ve got a soft spot for the Midwest though.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go pack for a few days. Laura’s going to kill me if I’m another minute late,” he said, hoisting the bag over his shoulder. 

Natalia’s eyes went wide and she opened her mouth, speechless. Even you were taken aback. Was Barton really inviting you to his home? Certainly he didn’t trust you yet. You hadn’t even been at SHIELD for a year, the first six months of which you spent firmly locked in a cell. Yet there he stood, hands in his pockets and waiting for you to move your ass and follow him out. “I didn’t,” Natalia started. “When I said we couldn’t leave I wasn’t asking for you–”

“Nope. Don’t do that. I want to. You guys are never going to be comfortable here if you’re not extended some freedom. Trust me, I know.” You watched the other man with suspicion, waiting for the trap to spring. The SHIELD agent who had spared Natalia’s life when he had explicit orders to put an arrow through her heart. The American who believed in the good in people and making the world a less gruesome place in the small way he could. The person who extended a hand to others in a time of crisis. “I used to spend Christmas alone and cold without a home. Then I got Laura and I couldn’t be happier. But it can get lonely just the two of us out there. If you really would rather stay here I won’t force you to come,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I would really appreciate the company, and I know Laura would love to meet the two of you.”

Natalia shifted, putting one foot on the floor. She looked at you and you knew she wanted to go, but wouldn’t if you said no. But oh, you would do anything for her. Subtly you nodded. You didn’t care how much you were struggling, you’d pull yourself together for the weekend. “We’re in.”

You pushed yourself off the couch and went back to your room to pack what little you had. All of your clothes were plain which you didn’t mind, but something about knowing they were SHIELD issue left you feeling claustrophobic. You gripped a black dress shirt in your hand a little tighter than you needed to. To you it screamed, you are not free. We own you now. You threw your toothbrush and toothpaste in alongside the clothes before stopping at the bedside table. Carefully you pulled open the drawer and snagged a little necklace from inside. Tucking it into a side pocket you jogged out to find Natalia and Barton waiting in the lobby.

Barton’s truck was nowhere near extravagant, but it held a sort of coziness that only came from years of ownership. Natasha sat in the passenger seat while you took the back, wincing when you found the lack of legroom. The interior smelled of old air freshener, dirt, and worn leather. “Strap in,” he said. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.”

Barton tuned the radio to play Christmas music and introduced you to his atrocious singing as he belted along to ‘Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town’. As you left the thick jungle of Washington D.C. and moved west across Virginia the city whipped away as the sun traveled across the sky. When you reached the interstate proper and were well away from the prying eyes of the urban center you finally allowed yourself to relax a little. Natalia began to hum along to a new song, a small smile on her face. Barton turned the volume up a notch and you leaned your head against the cool window pane, eyes tracking the snow covered countryside. 

At a gas station in Ohio Natalia asked to switch seats with you. She curled up in the back using a sweatshirt as a pillow and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. You checked the rearview every few minutes and eventually she had fallen asleep for real, lips parted slightly and breathing slowing down. 

Barton had given up on his singing endeavor and had reduced himself to whistling and tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the radio. As you passed a sign welcoming you to Indiana he spoke up. “Okay, truth time,” he said, stealing a concerned glance at you before staring back at the two lane road before him. The truck's wheels ate up yards of the sun bleached asphalt. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Yes,” you said.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you’re not gonna kill me in my sleep tonight, right?” He asked, trying his best to clear the nerves from his voice.

“No. I like you, Barton. And even if I did not I owe you a great debt,” you said. 

A crease formed on his brow. “A debt?”

You looked back at the woman sleeping soundly in the back of the truck. Her feet were tucked up on the seat, head laying on a sweatshirt stuffed in between the window and the headrest. You thought it might have been the most at peace you’ve ever seen her. “Yeah,” you breathed. “For giving her a better life.” One that I never could, you thought.

“I didn’t do it looking for any favors. Not from her, and certainly not from you or Fury,” he insisted. “Fury was pissed of course. He knew who I was when he hired me, but I still think he underestimated my loyalty to my gut. And you,” he said, nodding in your direction. “You were a wildcard no one saw coming.”

“Good or bad?” You asked, already sure of the answer.

“To be honest, I’m not sure yet. I think that’s still up to you,” he said.

You held a groan back. Moral dilemmas made your head ache. You’d wanted a straight answer. Tell me how to be good. “What do you mean?”

 He ran a hand through his hair, spiking it up in three different ways. “Well, you’re good out in the field. Like scary good, and I know you’ll watch my back. That’s the most important thing,” he said. “But then we get back and I see you pacing around the compound like you’re stuck in a cage. I guess I’m just not sure what’s going through your head.”

You clenched and unclenched your fist, overcome with the urge to tell the other man more than you’d told any of the SHIELD shrinks in a year. He felt safe and genuine, but you knew that was an impossibility; you knew people to be horrid pretenders. You opened your mouth anyway, Natalia’s urges for you to try ringing in your ears. “I can follow orders on a mission no problem. Shut off my brain and listen to authority. Protect your team, take the shot, retrieve the files. That is what I was built for,” you sighed, eyeing Barton warily. Waiting for him to snap at you. “But when the job is done, and I have time to sit and think on it…I feel like I have just ripped myself in half.” 

“That’s, well, that’s some intense shit,” he said, tipping his head. “What I can tell you though, with absolute certainty, is that General Dreykov is a bad man. For me, for SHIELD, for her…” Clint said. You knew very well who he was referring to. “There’s no gray area there, man. We’re going to shut him down.”

“I know," you said, short and quick. You knew that's what they all said, but Dreykov had protected you for a long time. He had raised you. He had loved you as his own. You didn't want to see him in a cell, or worse, in a grave. “I cannot get it straight in my head. Everyone has been telling me that working for SHIELD is a step toward being better, to making something of myself. If that is true, then how come the longer I am here the more I feel like I am betraying everything that makes me me?” You knew why. Something inside you was broken and twisted beyond repair. It made you see the world backward. Everyone around you could smell the festering rot of the mangled heart inside your chest. They just needed an excuse to put you down for good.

“Well, you are just about the most Russian person I’ve ever met,” he said. You tried your very best not to glare at him when he looked over. “Before about five minutes ago the only sentences I’d ever heard you speak were two word acknowledgements in the field. And the accent. You’re playing it up, right?”

“Maybe a little.” You were more than capable of fixing it and putting on an American one, but you felt entitled to keep this little part of yourself. To remind yourself and everyone else where you came from. The pressure to conform was a constant torrent but you refused to let them win, for better or for worse.

“As for actual advice…I would say don’t look at it from a good versus bad perspective. In this field, none of us are really good. Not even at SHIELD. I don’t care what some of those righteous assholes think. Forget what anyone told you before and what anyone tells you now,” he said, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. “Take a step back and compare the before and the now. How did it make you feel?” He asked, stressing the you. “What cause do you believe in? Tough thing is there’s not a right and a wrong answer. Took me a hell of a long time to figure out what I thought about it all. I used to operate strictly outside of the law and now I’m a fed,” he said, shrugging. “Just know I’m rooting for you.”

“And if I come to a conclusion you do not agree with?”

“I’ll make sure to give you a headstart,” he said, winking and throwing you a playful smirk.

“Ah, I am grateful Barton,” you said, cracking a smile. It felt good, like feeling the sun on your face after being inside for a long time. You reveled in the feeling while it lasted.

“No. No more of that Barton stuff. It’s Clint.” He said, shaking his head. “Unless we’re on a mission. Then it’s Hawkeye.”

“The infamous Hawkeye. Tell me, Clint. Where do you get a name like that?” You could tell he was fond of the alias.

“Would you believe me if I told you it’s from the circus?”

A million questions crowded your mind. You looked over, mouth hanging open. You didn’t know much about circuses. They had shown you all a cartoon once about an elephant that had giant ears and could fly. It led the other circus animals in a rebellion against the human handlers. In the end the ringmaster cut its ears off and strung them up as a lesson against exceptionalism. “You were in the circus?” You asked.

“Even better,” he answered. “I was raised up in one.”

“Did you have elephants?”

“No,” he scoffed, chuckling. “We were classier than that. All acrobats and good old fashioned theatrics. I used to sharpshoot. Struck apples off of people’s heads. That sort of thing. Although when I wasn’t on stage I was running through the audience, taking wallets out of pockets.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “Baby Barton raising hell. I can see it. And it would explain the mess in here.” You scuffed your shoe on the floor, stirring up bits of dirt and dried mud. Items crowded the backseat next to Natalia. A winter coat, a pair of sneakers, a hunting knife, handle worn from use. The cupholders were stuffed with old receipts and loose change, and something rattled in the glove box everytime the truck took a left turn. 

“It’s messy in here?” He asked, glancing about the cabin. “I don’t think it’s too bad.”

“You are funny.”

“No, I'm being completely serious. Doesn’t everyone’s car kinda look like this?” His bewilderment would be slightly endearing if you weren’t such a neat freak.

“No, not really. I will help you clean over the holiday,” you said, leaving no room for protest. “I cannot stand the ride back like this.”

“If you insist. Just don’t throw anything out without running it by me. I promise everything in here is important.”

“Whatever you say,” you said, eyeing a stack of coffee cups wedged in the door.

“Can I ask something? I mean, I don’t want to overstep.” You were learning Clint did not do well with silence. 

“Go ahead.”

“What’s the deal with you and Natasha? Are you dating? It’s been killing me trying to figure the two of you out.”

“No, uh, we are not,” you stuttered. “We are friends.” Even that label seemed to hold too much weight. You weren’t supposed to have friends. And to befriend one of the Widows no less. You were above them, primed to not only serve the Red Room, but to be the embodiment of its crusade. Dreykov’s right hand. The Taskmaster. 

Clint had the nerve to scoff. “I’ve seen you just about butcher an entire compound of enemy combatants without batting an eye. And you can never ever tell Fury this but you intimidate the other agents more than he does.” He took one hand off the wheel and stretched it out, flexing his fingers. “And as far as I can tell the only person who can get you to listen to anyone but yourself…” He pointedly stared at the rearview mirror. “I didn’t even recognize you earlier back at SHIELD. You looked so, unagitated. Like you finally managed to dislodge that stick up your ass.”

“Ha, ha,” you laughed dryly. “You know, I am going to find something to shove up your ass.”

“You were letting her lay on you like a cat. You can’t tell me you guys haven’t slept together.”

You glared at his profile until he got the hint and faced you. “That is none of your business.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry I crossed a line,” he said. Your chest twisted with an unfamiliar sensation. One that made its way to your face in not quite a smile, but certainly an expression of gratitude. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek. Apologies were new for you. 

“It is alright,” you said, vehemence leaving your voice. “It is just complicated. We had,” you hesitated and took a deep breath. “We had more than we should have in, um…before. They tried to keep us apart, make me think she was as heartless as the rest of the world.” You stared out the windshield, not willing to risk eye contact with Barton. A bug came flying at the truck and splattered green guts right in your eyeline. “And for a while I believed them. I hated her. But I was wrong. It is actually the opposite. Natalia is just, she is good. She stupidly stuck by me and dragged my head up from the sand when I was intent on suffocating myself.” 

“I’m no expert, just a guy with a wife and a couple of kids, but that sounds a damn lot like love to me,” he said. 

A choir of sardonic voices roused to action in the forefront of your mind. What do you know of love? You bite the hand that needs you, do you understand? You bite it clean off. A bitter laugh lunged from your throat before you could stop it. “You are wrong. Love is a fantasy to hold over the heads of the masses.”

“Wow.” Clint blinked dramatically, twice. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you just got even more Russian.”

“Fuck off, Hawkeye,” you said, grinning freely. 

 “Seriously though, I’ll never understand what you guys went through. Not in any way that counts, but the fact you made it out together tells me how fucking strong the both of you are.” He flicked his gaze to you. “There’s something there for you to think about too, but you gotta find it on your own.”

But you would rather take a knife to the chest than admit to harboring any sort of four letter words for Natalia. “Wait, you have a kid?” You asked, turning the conversation back on Barton.

“Yeah,” he said, smile reaching up to crinkle the corners of his eyes. “I have two now, if you can believe it. My oldest is Cooper. He’s a little over three. Lila is the baby. They’re why I was a little nervous about bringing you out. My number one priority, before SHIELD, before the mission, before myself are those kids.”

“And you were driving me all this way worried that I would turn on you? That I might hurt your kids?”

“Well, you know. Don’t trust anyone, especially other spies. Especially Russian spies if you’re American. I was fairly sure, but there was a voice in the back of my head asking ‘what if,’ and I had to ask,” he admitted.

You wanted to tell him you’d never hurt a little kid. That he shouldn’t have worried. Except you had, so so many times before. “How do you feel now?” You asked instead.

“A lot better. Glad to know you’re not a robot.” Silence grew as the radio paused in between songs. You laid back against the seat and watched the plains rush by outside. The speakers came back to life and a new sickeningly cheery jingle began to play. “I love this one,” Clint said, turning the volume back up. He hummed with contentment and drummed his fingers on the wheel, looking over at you. “I am going to teach you all about the joy of Christmas music, just you wait.”

“Oh, great,” you remarked wryly. The small grin on your face however betrayed your stark tone. Maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all.

—

The old Chevy fought its way up the snow covered path toward the farmhouse in the middle of the field. White and red lights hung from the roof and wrapped the pillars of the porch in heartwarming hues. A little plastic snowman stood ambassador to the front door, waving a mittened hand and welcoming the incoming entourage. Clint parked a couple dozen yards from the house, grumbling about how he’d have to dig the truck out before he left again. Natalia hopped out, eyes wide as she took in the home. Your breath puffed out in visible clouds, but you hardly felt the cold. You were raised in the deathly Russian winters. 

The front door cracked open, a woman standing silhouetted in the warm light behind her. “Clinton Francis Barton! You better get inside right now,” she said, a wide smile brightening her voice.

“Clinton?” Natalia asked, walking close behind Barton up to the porch.

“Yeah, yeah. Now you know my biggest secret.” He trudged up the stairs, snowflakes dusting his shoulders and hair. Laura met him in the doorway with a kiss. “Sorry we’re a little late,” he said.

“You’re excused this time, but only because you brought guests,” she said. Up close you could see she had big brown eyes and brown hair that fell to her shoulders. The inside of the house beckoned, the haze of meat and pine wafting outside. You dragged your feet along the stairs. You didn’t belong here. “Get inside now, you’re letting all the heat escape.” She patted Barton on the butt as he trod inside, fondness lacing her eyes as she looked after him. Natalia stood at the entryway, not yet stepping up into the house. “I mean you two as well,” Laura insisted, ushering you through the door.

“Daddy!” A little boy came barrelling around a corner, wrapping his arms around Clint’s leg and staring up at him with a toothy grin. The house immediately opened up into the living room, a worn brown couch facing a fireplace and an evergreen tree adorned with ornaments and twinkling lights. To your left a staircase spiraled upward and disappeared to a second floor. You stomped your shoes off on a welcome mat, watching the slush melt away. 

A drumbeat of footsteps pattered your way and suddenly the child was wrapped around your leg, his fingers digging into your calf. Your muscles tensed and you began to lift your leg to shake him off, heart in your throat.

“Coop!” Laura scolded. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s usually pretty shy around strangers.”

But Cooper didn’t listen and you didn’t kick him away. This kid was not a threat. He ogled up at you with wide eyes the same shade as his mother’s and hair somehow blonder than his father’s. “Hi. I’m Cooper,” he said with the grace of someone just learning to speak.

“Hi,” you said, heat rushing to your cheeks at being startled by a three year old. 

“Who are you?” He asked.

“I am a friend of your father’s,” you said, also telling him your name. 

“Looks like you’ve been replaced, Clint,” Laura teased. “Come on, buddy, let’s get up. Daddy’s got to show them upstairs.”

But he only sank down further, sitting firmly on your shoe and jutting his lip in a pout. “Walk with me.”

You looked at Natalia, a tender smile on her face. “It’s alright,” you told Laura. “I can take him upstairs.”

“Are you sure?” She asked. “I can make him get down.” 

“Yeah.” You couldn’t explain the tight feeling in your chest whenever the boy smiled up at you. “Are you ready?” He nodded eagerly and you took a step, following Clint up the stairs. Cooper giggled the entire time, clinging on with little hands.

“I hope you guys are okay with sharing a room. We’ve got Coop and Lila in their own rooms right now. Lila keeps you up at night, doesn’t she buddy?”

He nodded against your knee. “Lila cries a lot.”

“This is great,” Natalia said. “Thank you.” You and her still slept in separate rooms, but at this point you would have been willing to sleep out in the barn if he told you to. You hadn’t realized how crazy you’d been in that SHIELD compound. The wind whipping against your face outside had been like finally breathing deeply after having your head held underwater.

“The door on the end is the master bedroom,” Clint said, pointing left down the hall. “That’s Coop’s room, then there’s the nursery, the bathroom, and finally,” he stopped, opening a door to the right. “Here’s the guest room. I’ll let you guys get settled. Take your time. I’m going to help Laura get the table set.” He knelt down, scooping Cooper up under his arms and lifting him high in the air. The toddler shrieked as Clint settled him on his shoulders and stomped downstairs.

You set your bag down as Natalia moved around the room, running her hand over the nicely made bed. You cleared your throat, nerves and a foreign feeling clashing in your mind. “I can sleep on the floor.” 

She turned to you sharply. “You know I would never ask you to do that.”

“I know. But I am offering.” You walked over to the window, pushing the curtain open and peering outside. You couldn’t see much of anything, even with your enhanced eyesight. Even still, the countryside was a refreshing landscape after being firmly locked in the city. But the wilderness sheltered different threats. The red dot of a laser sight burned your retinas, and glowing yellow eyes stared blankly back at you. 

Natalia pulled your hand into hers, lacing your fingers together. “We’re okay here,” she mumbled into your shoulder as if reading your mind. 

“Do you really believe that?”

“I do,” she said, coming to stand in front of you. You wrapped your arms around her and rested your chin on top of her head, imagining you could shield her from all harm this way. “Listen.”

You strained your ears, searching for alarming sounds. The wind outside stirred quietly, enough to flurry the falling snow, but not so aggressive as to rap the window pane. Beyond that there was only quiet. No footsteps prowling around the back of the house. No click of a rifle’s safety being switched off. “I do not hear anything,” you said.

“You’re listening for the wrong things,” she said.

You frowned, glancing around the quiet room. Through the closed door the lazy tune of an American Christmas song made its way to your ears. You recognized the singer. Elvis Presley. The King of Rock and Roll. Laughter charged the music with a warm undercurrent. The infectious snicker that belonged to Barton mixed with the high-pitched giggle of his son to create a different kind of melody. You dropped your shoulders and let all of the air out of your lungs. Natalia pulled you closer until her spine pressed flush into your front. Her hands felt like ice, but you didn’t mind. You had always run hot. 

“Barton asked me if we were a couple on the ride up,” you said.

“Oh yeah? And what did you say?” She asked, watching the snow swirl in arcs outside. The wind rushed down, only for the next gust to excite the flakes into the navy sky again. 

“I told him it was complicated. And that we are friends.”

“And what if we made it less complicated?”

You pulled away to tug off your sweatshirt, feeling feverishly warm. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if we gave it a shot? We can call it what we want, we don’t have to call it anything at all. You could stay in my room some nights, or I could stay in yours. Maybe I’d let you kiss me,” she said, scrunching her nose and lifting one eyebrow. 

You laid the shirt on the bed, folding it into a tight little rectangle. The offer dangled in the vanilla scented air, taunting you. There must be a candle burning downstairs. You wanted so badly to say yes. To give yourself over to Natalia completely. Somewhere in between your heart and your throat the words got caught. A dark entity snagged what you wanted to say in its rows of jagged teeth and ripped it to shreds. “I think our friendship works,” you said. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she sighed. “I was being selfish.”

“No, you were not. You could never be selfish. I am sorry,” you said, kneeling beside your bag and placing the sweatshirt inside. You would slit your own throat if Natalia Romonava asked you to. How cruel was it that you couldn’t tell her you cared? 

She crossed the softly lit bedroom, coming to rest by the door where you hung your head in defeat. “There’s nothing you need to be sorry for,” she said. Her voice washed over you and carried away some of the pain in your chest like the sea’s cool tide. Her fingers combed through the short hairs at the base of your neck. You leaned into her, resting your forehead on her leg. She smelled of the air after a storm and the beginnings of a fresh wound. “Come on. Let’s get downstairs before they put out a search warrant.”

You pushed yourself from the ground, an all too familiar action, and followed her into the greater expanse of the house. 

“There you are,” Clint greeted, pulling cups out of a cabinet. “Just in time.”

“Hi,” Laura smiled, crossing the kitchen and offering a hand. “I didn’t properly introduce myself before. I’m Laura.”

“Natasha,” Natalia said, shaking the woman’s hand.

“Cooper, come wash your hands!” Clint called. The boy ran in from the living room, making a beeline for the sink.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Barton,” you said, clasping her hand. Her palm held faded callouses. 

“Oh, please. It’s Laura. You come to my house, you call me Laura. Gosh, Mrs. Barton makes me feel old,” she said, smiling good-naturedly. “You two make me feel old. How old are you?”

“Twenty one,” Natalia answered. 

“Oh, wow,” she blinked widely. “Clint, you’ve got a run for your money. You might have to retire soon.”

“Tell me about it,” he said. “You should try sparring with Nat, hon. I’ve never been more sore in my life.” Clint scooped Cooper up and set him at the table. “Alright buddy hang tight, I’m gonna go grab your sister.”

“How are you guys doing at SHIELD? Fury not giving you too much grief I hope,” Laura said, grabbing a couple of plates and handing them over.

“You know Fury?” Natalia asked, recalculating the other woman.

“Oh, yeah. I knew Fury before he was such a hotshot. I knew him when he was still an ambitious agent gunning for the reins.” She scooped a bunch of mac and cheese into a bowl and carried it around to Cooper. “Feels like yesterday I was in the field though.”

“You were a SHIELD agent?” You asked, interest peaked. 

“Yep. Had a fancy codename too. People used to call me the Mockingbird.” The three of you settled at the table, plates filled with turkey and potatoes and sauteed green beans. “Don’t tell Clint I told you this but when he joined he chased after me for months before I’d even look in his direction. Don’t let him ever fool you, he’s always been a big dork.”

“Don’t tell Clint what now?” He asked, walking in with a baby in his arms. She couldn’t have been more than six months old. Natalia’s eyes went wide, her mouth parted open. She looked as if she were about to spring from her chair. You knew she had a soft spot for kids, but didn’t know it ran this deep. You looked from her to the baby and back again, head tilting. She’d never looked that excited to see you.

“Just sharing your most embarrassing moments,” Laura said. 

“Great.” He took a seat, cradling the baby in one hand and picking a fork up in the other. He pointed the utensil across the table at you and Natalia. “Just remember I’m still your superior,” he said. 

“The food is great, Laura,” you said in between bites. You forced yourself to slow down. You guessed you hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you sat down. SHIELD cafeteria food was certainly less than subpar. 

“Thank you. Clint, you better take notes from this one. The kid has better manners than you.”

“I’ll have you know that you chose to marry me,” he retorted.

“That I did,” she conceded, dipping her head. “And I’ve never had cause to regret it…so far.” 

“So far? Clint asked. “How could you ever say no to this face?” He jutted his bottom lip out and pouted.

Laura shook her head and grinned, almond eyes sparkling. “You are a child. I’m raising three children.” She turned away from her husband. “Anyway, I was asking you two about SHIELD. Clint told me you’ve taken the place by storm.” 

“It’s been good,” Natalia answered carefully. In the face of two senior agents, you had to choose your words carefully, even if one of them was retired from the organization. She donned a coy smile you recognized as one reserved for when she was chasing an objective and dipped her chin, peering up at the couple. “Everyone’s just been so great. We’ve been getting along perfectly, haven’t we?”

You took the signal and nodded in agreement. “I have found SHIELD to be an exceptional establishment.”

“I honestly think Fury would take that as an insult,” Clint said. “There’s no penalty for criticism. There’s a reason we’re spies and not soldiers.”

Natalia tilted her head, listening. You knew she gave the archer’s words considerable weight. “I think the director would agree that it’s considerably better than where we came from,” she said. “Which makes it near perfect in my eyes.”

Your leg bounced underneath the table, on the verge of taking off. To hear Natalia sing the song of American praise grated on your nerves. The worst thing was that she sounded genuine. She liked working under Fury. To you SHIELD was a pit stop on the way to a new life. For the woman who everyone underestimated and no one but you could decipher however, there was no escape plan, no next step. She’d convinced herself this was home.

“I’ll drink to that,” Clint said. “I’m where I am now because of SHIELD. And I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”

Laura practically beamed. “You sweet talker. I love you.” The feeling like you didn’t belong here roiled over you like a nauseating fever. You snapped to attention when you heard your name. “How are you adjusting?” Laura asked, eyes far too sympathetic.

“Fine,” you grimaced. You couldn’t help but think back on the lengths SHIELD had gone to glean information from you and remold you to a proper agent. In the end, they had been weaker than you. You were cast iron forged in the backwoods of Russia. You did not adjust. You did not yield. 

“What does Fury have you working on?” She asked. “I know I can’t have the details anymore. I don’t think I’d want them anyhow, but...He’s getting you guys back out there all right?” 

“Yeah. They call us Strike Team Alpha. We have been working with Agents Coulson and Hill to–,” you cut yourself off. You had been working to track down the Red Room and formulate a strategy to take out Dreykov. You complied enough to be deemed cooperative, but kept vital intelligence to yourself. Even still, time trickled away like sand in an hourglass. They’d have him before long, and you weren’t certain you could stick around to see it through. “We have been busy,” you pivoted. “We work with Clint a lot. Your husband is a good man.” 

“That he is,” she agreed. “But don’t discount yourself either.”

“Do not worry,” you said. “I know exactly what kind of person I am.”

“We all think we know who we are,” Laura said. “But most of the time it’s not as simple as we think. Lives are multi-faceted and it’s impossible to understand every part of ourselves as we should.”

“She’s right, you know,” Clint added. “I never thought I’d work for the government, much less ever be a father. But here I am.” He looked down on the sleeping baby tucked in his arm, running a thumb over her chubby cheek.

Under the table Natalia tugged on your pinky finger, intertwining her finger with yours. She squeezed softly and the action sent a current all the way to your heart. She had a smile on her face when you looked over, cat-green eyes glimmering with hope. “See?” She asked. “We can be whoever we want to be now.”

You nodded, even if it was just to reassure the woman beside you. Without order, without someone’s heels to follow you didn’t know who you were. And the prospect of discovering you weren’t worthy of all you’d been given...well that scared you more than the thought of a bullet carving a neat hole through your brain.

Clint cleared his throat and stood, walking to the counter and grabbing more food. You stared at your now empty plate, stealing a glance back at the countertop with the dishes of food. You stamped down on the flare of desire in your stomach, sitting silently and stacking your hands in your lap. “You can have more,” Laura said gently.

You shook your head quickly. “I am alright.” You were to never take more than what was allotted. 

“I’m serious, we’ll never eat all of this food. Please, take more,” she insisted.

You nodded, slowly getting up and slinking away from the wooden dining table. Natalia picked up the conversation. “So, you don’t work for SHIELD anymore then?”

“No,” Laura said. “I opted out of field work when I got pregnant with Cooper and when we decided to have Lila I took myself out of the game completely. Even being a deskbound spy has a way of taking over your life.” She picked up a napkin and wiped Cooper’s cheesy face off. “At that point I knew I had greater priorities than to SHIELD. Being a parent wouldn’t be everyone’s first choice but it was the right decision for me. We moved out here from the city a little over a year ago.”

“What do you do now?” Natalia asked.

“I’m a counselor for military personnel and veterans,” she said as you sat down again. Your foot caught on one of the legs and the table jumped a few inches.

“Sorry,” you cringed, gingerly pushing it back into place.

Cooper’s eyes went wide and he clapped his hands together with little coordination. “Again.”

“The table is pretty dense,” Laura explained. “We had trouble moving it in here and now Cooper’s made a game out of trying to push it around. Clint won’t touch it though, he’s worried he’ll hurt his back.”

“Ah,” you said, staring down at your lap. You didn’t like people knowing how strong you were. Nothing good had ever come from it. The serum was a fear tactic, a killer’s tool. The doctor’s at SHIELD had been practically drooling with questions when they found out, needles armed and ready behind their backs. “Must be lighter than you remember.”

“I’m done,” Cooper announced, slamming his spoon down. 

“Cooper Barton!” Laura chastised. “What do we say when we’re done?”

The toddler grumbled, pushing his empty bowl away. “May I be excused?”

“Yes you may,” his mother answered.

He jumped from his chair and ran around the table back to the living room. Clint ruffled his thick brown hair as he sped past. “Attaboy,” he saluted.

Laura carried the dishes over to the sink, running the water and filling the basin. You stood abruptly, snapping to attention. “I can take care of it.” You’d been sitting around for too long and letting people work for you. You needed to do something with your hands. She waved you off, not sparing a glance. “Please,” you said, ants crawling beneath your skin.

 She turned to you and something on your face must have given you away. “Okay. You’re not going to hear any argument from me.” 

You gathered up the rest of the plates from the table and scraped the food scraps into the trash. Chore rotations had been part of the routine growing up and the repetitive nature of scrubbing plate after plate calmed you some.

“Let me help,” Clint offered, handing the baby off to Laura and joining you in the kitchen. 

“Why don’t we go out to the den?” Laura offered to Natalia. “Let the boys clean up in here.” She whispered into the redhead’s ear as they left the room. You couldn’t make out the words.

You handed a clean plate to Clint for him to dry. “Thank you,” you said. The kitchen was cozy, all wooden floors and off-white countertops. The fridge stood across from the sink, decorated in crayon drawings and various magnets in the shape of dinosaurs.

“You’re welcome. Laura gets on me all the time for forgetting to clean up anyway. Figured I could earn some points while I’m home.”

“I meant for bringing us here,” you clarified. “It has been, nice.” Nice was a safe word. “You have a nice home. You were right. I think I was–hm, what is the term? Something crazy. Like when you are stuck inside for too long.”

“Stir crazy?”

“Ah yes. I was being stir crazy,” you said. “I am glad to be far away from the compound, from the job, all of it.”

“You were going stir crazy, not being stir crazy,” he said.

“Ah. I do not struggle with languages too much, but the figures of speech are always difficult to follow.”

“I’m glad you’re comfortable here. It’s nice to be able to share this with someone,” he admitted. “Fury is literally the only other person who knows about this part of my life. It’s kind of exhausting walking around pretending it doesn’t exist.”

LIttle footsteps came pounding around the corner and into the kitchen. Cooper crashed into Clint’s leg, tugging on his shirt to get his attention. “Mama said I have to help. Lila is sleeping,” he panted.

“Why don’t you dry this off for me, bud?” Clint handed him a rag and a plastic cup.

You watched the boy as he cleaned the cup, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth. “I will protect your secret, Clint. I know Nata-” You caught yourself before finishing the second half of her name. “Natasha will too.” The sound still felt awkward on your tongue.

“Thank you,” he said, laying a warm hand on your shoulder. The muscles in your back tensed, pinching your shoulder blades together. You inhaled and counted to five. You didn’t pull away. “I’ve made a lot of dumb decisions in my life, and I mean a lot. Taking a chance on the two of you though…that I don’t think I’ll ever regret.”

Part of you preened at the praise, no matter who’s lips it fell from. The other part reared at the fact you responded to someone other than your designated handlers. “You are welcome,” you said.

“Done!” Cooper announced, handing the dry cup back to his father. “Can I go play now?”

“Yeah, sure bud. We’ll be right out.”

You put the last plate away and drained the sink before joining Natalia and Laura in the living room. You froze when you rounded the corner and saw Natalia. She held Lila in her arms, the most tender smile on her face as she watched over the baby. Laura knelt by the fireplace, stoking the logs before shutting the grate. The mantle held little framed photographs of the Barton family and red and green stockings hung over the fire. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, yellow lights shining like halos. A star topped the tree, inches away from scraping the ceiling. Natalia sat on the couch cradling the baby as she played with one of her fingers.

Cooper slid onto the bench at an upright piano, mashing away at the keys. “Not right now, Coop,” Clint said. “You ought to be winding down for bed. We all have to be asleep for when Santa comes, remember?” You blinked at the instrument, starstruck. Longing filled your chest like air in a balloon. 

“Fine,” he whined, but listened and scooted from the bench.

Natalia swiveled her head, careful not to shift and disturb Lila. “Does one of you play?”

“I used to when I was little,” Laura said. “The piano belonged to my grandparents originally. I don’t think I could play much of anything anymore.”

“I can play.” Clint piped up.

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star does not count, babe.”

“You know who can play?” Natalia spoke up. You imagined the expression on her face, one eyebrow raised and mouth poised in a smirk. 

“Who?” Cooper asked, rounding the couch and sitting on the coffee table. 

“I’ll give you a hint,” she said. “They’re in the room with us right now.”

“Is it me?” He pointed to himself, little eyebrows furrowed as deep as he could make them go.

“Nope,” Natalia answered, voice sing-song sweet.

“Is it you?” He twisted his head to the side and pointed at Natalia. She shook her head and Cooper looked around the room, eyes catching on his mother and father before landing on you. “Your friend,” he said. 

“Yep,” she said. You could hear the smile in her voice. 

“I knew it. I knew it,” he insisted. 

You tore your gaze away from the piano as attention fell onto you. “Oh.” You waved them off. “I would not say I could play. I posed as a pianist in a hotel lobby for a mission once a long time ago. Memorized some music that is all. I am not classically trained.” You crossed your arms to ward off the unease that accompanied so many eyes on you.

“Do you still know it?” Laura asked. 

“Yeah, I do.” Your peculiar memory would never allow you to forget. And you’d never tell a soul, but sitting there at a piano all night long had made you feel alive in a way nothing had before. But that couldn’t be. Musicians were jesters, and you were no fool. 

“We’d love to hear it,” Laura said, picking Cooper up and settling down with him on her lap. “If you’re comfortable. I hate the thought of the piano just turning into decor.”

“Okay,” you said. You were never one to shy away from a task. “I am afraid I do not know any Christmas songs.” 

“That’s all right. I’m sure whatever you know will be beautiful,” Laura encouraged.

Clint stood in the corner, eyes upturned to the ceiling. He perked up, springing into action. “I’ll be right back,” he said, jogging upstairs.

You took a seat on the polished wooden bench, stroking the keys and marveling at the instrument. You warmed up, playing a couple scales and conjuring the music in your mind’s eye. The patterns were as fresh as the day you had played them. The notes from the aged piano were by no means comparable to that of the expensive grand you’d used before, but somehow the music sounded sweeter here. As you struck the opening bars of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata you craned your neck to find Natalia’s gaze. She smiled at you and you couldn’t help but mirror the expression. Your heart picked up its beating and your head buzzed with a strange feeling. You felt as if you might explode with it. 

You took to the music like you took to fighting, or dancing. You didn’t struggle with movement like other people did. Ever since you could remember you could watch and replicate. Eventually you learned to mimic a fighter’s strategy so that you could predict their next moves. Flay their neck into a gushing fountain before they could touch you. 

Your foot pumped the pedal in time with your left hand and when you closed your eyes you could see the notes weaving into the dark. You liked how the music elicited harmony instead of chaos. Music didn’t scrape the skin from your knuckles or leave you lying on the floor with the world spinning around you. You changed the song, easing into Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat. 

Clint came marching down the stairs, CD player in one hand and a disk in the other. He stayed quiet for a moment, busying himself with finding an outlet to plug the player into. Finding a natural way to end the song prematurely, you slowed your hands and lightened the force with which you struck the keys. Clint stood near the other end of the couch, doing his best to look patient. 

“Barton?” You asked.

“I told you earlier that I was going to teach you the joy of Christmas music,” he said. “Well, here you go. Now you can play along and really appreciate the music.” He knelt down and pressed the play button. 

An easy tune filled the living room, bathing all in attendance in a sense of peace. Time seemed to slow, and for a moment, you forgot about the world outside of the farmhouse. All that mattered was the family reaching out in embrace, two parents and a little boy. Their smiles shone brighter than the blazing fire in the hearth. You watched the woman settled on the couch, absorbed by the baby in her arms. She looked up at you as you traced the curve of her jaw with your eyes. Natalia’s pupils were wide when she met your gaze, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. You looked away first to stare at the piano instead, focusing on the music instead of the way your cheeks warmed in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature.

You caught onto the song as it began to repeat, taking a shallow breath before following along. Just like with anything else music obeyed a pattern. Once you unlocked the way the parts fit together, the rest of the song revealed itself to you. All you had to do was continue the line of code. The next track played, prompting Cooper to sing along. Imperfection had never sounded so flawless. 

The CD turned out song after song and you let yourself get lost in the game. You didn’t recognize any of the pieces, but Christmas music had a distinctive charm to it. Some might call it magical. You sat back for the first thirty seconds of each song, picking out the tempo and key. The notes charged your hands with energy which you poured out into the latter half of the song. Each one was unique, a victorious smile forming on your face when you pulled together the entire arrangement in your head.

When the tracklist ended you took a breath, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. Laura took Lila from Natalia, holding her tight against her shoulder. Her hand, a mother’s hand, rested on the sleeping baby’s back. “I’m going to put her down,” she said, just loud enough to be heard.

“Hey bud.” Clint gently shook Cooper awake from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch against his leg. “It’s time to brush our teeth and go to bed.”

The boy only turned further into Clint’s body, refusing to be stirred. 

Clint stood and picked him up. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

Only after his footsteps had receded upstairs did either one of you move. Natalia pushed herself from the couch and stretched. Her arms extended toward the ceiling with a dancer’s grace. She took a seat next to you on the bench and laid her head on your shoulder. “That was amazing,” she said. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“That is all you,” you said. “I did not know you were so good with babies.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. “When Laura asked me to hold her I was so nervous at first. I thought I might drop her or pinch her or that I’d make her cry.” She lifted her head, her gaze soft as a lamb’s. You wanted to preserve it so that no one may ever taint it, including from yourself. “But she was okay.”

“That is because you are a good person. They say babies have a sixth sense for that sort of thing. Like dogs.”

“But, I’ve hurt so many people,” she said, voice fragile like a twig in a storm. “I’m afraid…I'm afraid I’ll never be able to redeem myself.”

“No. Do not say that, Natalia. You are the best person I know. The fact you care so much means you are already there.” You huffed a quick exhale. “I think you are the only person who cannot see how big your heart is.”

“They say the holidays are for spending time with the people you love the most,” she whispered, tracing the lines on your palm with her finger.

You stayed quiet.

“I’m glad that I’m here with you,” she said.

Another window, another chance to dive off the deep end. I think I’m in love with you, you thought. The laws of society had been drilled into your head by the Madames and reinforced by what little exposure of the world you’d received. Natalia stood in defiance to all of them. She was a sapling in a field of ash, and refused to be uprooted. She turned to grace like you turned to anger. She was infecting you, and you couldn’t push her away.

Footsteps sounded down the stairs and you shut your previously parted mouth. The words scattered into the recesses of your throat. “Hey guys,” Clint said. “The kids are down and Laura and I still have a lot of Santa’s work to do. You’re more than welcome to stay down here and watch TV or whatever. We’ll be around. Just holler if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Natalia said. “Thank you.” He turned to go. “And Clint. Merry Christmas.” She smiled.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, giving a sharp nod. 

You yawned. Between the food and the warmth and the music, tiredness had snuck up on you. “Let’s go upstairs,” Natalia said.

“Okay.” You left the piano behind and made your way upstairs. You brushed your teeth and splashed water on your face in the hall bathroom. The shower curtain was adorned with colorful flaming monster trucks and a little blue step stool gave height before the sink. Cooper must have primary use of this one. 

Natalia sat on the edge of the mattress in the bedroom, untangling her braid with deft fingers. You stole a pillow and dropped it on the floor on the other side near the door. “What are you doing?” She asked.

“I am going to sleep.” You didn’t meet her eyes.

“Why are you being weird? We’ve slept in the same bed before,” she said.

“That was different,” you insisted.

“How so?” She asked, infuriatingly patient.

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your shoulders back, shadows of old handlers and teachers flickering behind your eyes. “Because…because there were lines before. Ones we did not cross.” Emotional ones. “It was survival. You were a warm body.”

A smudge of hurt clouded over Natalia’s bright eyes. She blinked and it disappeared. “You don’t mean that.”

You paced the length of the room, wishing you could run farther. You meant it and you also didn’t. “Of course not. I am sorry,” you breathed. 

“Then come here. All we’re doing is sleeping. I’m not letting you stay on the floor like a dog.” She combed through her hair, waves of red cascading down past her shoulders. 

Except it wasn’t just sleeping. If you indulged in this vice once you’d never want to quit it. You’d paw desperately at her door every night. You shook your head and backed away like a spooked horse. “I have slept in worse places.”

“Is it me?” She asked, shoulders slumping with the words. “Do you not trust me?”

“No. No, it is not you.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

You shook your head as if to fling the question away. The problem was that you weren’t cut out for relationships of any kind. Didn’t she know how dangerous you were? Shouldn’t she know that you bit? “There is no problem.”

“I know you well enough to know when you’re not telling me something.” You started to get the feeling this wasn’t really about where you slept anymore.

“Can we talk about this in the morning?” You tried, rubbing furiously at the back of your head.

“No. I hate feeling like you’re not comfortable around me,” she said. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No. I trust you with my life. You know that.” Your voice cracked at the end. It was never her fault, and you hated yourself for not being able to be what she needed. To reassure and support her. To be normal.

“Then please, tell me what’s going on.”

“I–”

“What are you so afraid of?” She asked the question at barely more than a whisper, but the words lit a spark in you like a gunshot. 

“Leave it Natalia,” you commanded in Russian, spinning on your heel. You fixed her with a cold stare, no longer seeing her as you should be. Perched on the bed sat the Black Widow, and she had broken rank.

“No,” she scolded, rising to meet the challenge. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. We are not in the Red Room. Do you understand?” Anyone else and you would have seized them and smacked them clean across the cheek. Anyone else and they’d have a dozen fresh bruises to remind them of their place. But this was Natalia. And you’d never hurt Natalia. You clenched your jaw and drew your lips back, fighting the urge to pound the wall in. 

“I hate you.” You felt as if you’d just barely outran an onslaught of attackers, and they were still watching. 

“No you don’t,” she said, face still as marble and expressive as a wall of stone.

“Why are you here? Why will you not leave? You are the reason I am like this,” you said, voice cracking as a growing child's did. If it wasn’t for her you’d be perfect, you knew it. Instead she tempted you down a path of distraction, convinced you to embrace weakness.

“I’m here because I will always stand beside you. Always,” she said as if it was all too simple.

“But you left. You were going to die and leave me alone.” Defecting to SHIELD had not been her original plan. Letting them kill her was. Lucky it had been Clint Barton behind the trigger that night. “And now I am stuck here because of you and I hate it.”

“You feel stuck?” For a second the wall slipped and a flash of hurt escaped Natalia’s gaze.

“Yes,” you said. “I do. You ruined my life.” Red hot anger ignited itself within you. And it was all aimed at the woman before you.

“I didn’t make you do anything. I never have,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re here because you know deep down that the Red Room is an awful place. A place that takes little children and beats them into weapons.”

“It made us strong.”

“It broke us.”

You grimaced and kicked aimlessly at the ground. “I still cannot stand it here.” The wrath began to dissipate. Shame swelled to take its place.

“We are safer now than we ever have been.”

“I cannot trust you. You are a Widow. You–You are lying to me. You always have been.” Paranoia twisted smiles into smirks, kind words into carefully crafted scalpels. She’d learn all of your weaknesses and leave you gutted on top of her rotting pile of victims.

“I am not a Widow. Not anymore. Do you understand?”

You grunted an acknowledgement.

“Markov.” She called your surname. “Yes or no.”

“Yes,” you ground out. “I understand.” Regret pooled in your belly like bile. She had asked what you were so afraid of and you’d gone and shown her. The closer Natalia became the less control you felt you had. Emotions twisted together in a whirlwind inside your head, mutating into a throbbing mass of anger. Natalia handled her emotions, always choosing the correct words and wearing the face she wanted people to see. Dreykov had taught you that pretty words were for the Widows and the women. Unchecked, the rage festered until your hands shook with it. “I do not want to hurt you,” you said, switching back to English with an accent hanging heavy over the words.

“I know,” she sighed. “But you do, you know. When you lash out at me it hurts.” 

A dozen excuses ran through your head. None of them even came close to making it up. You were just a bad person. “This is why you have to let me sleep on the floor.” You felt as though you’d finally been allowed to regain control of your body after some raging force had overtaken you. It left you dizzy with the shame of your words.

Natalia didn’t say anything. Her green gaze bore straight through you. Vulnerability raked at your spine as if she held your bleeding heart in her fist.

“Please,” you added. You did not beg.

“You can sleep on the floor,” she relented. The cool release of relief soothed your aching mind. “But you have to promise me something.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me that when we get back you’ll work on talking through whatever’s going on in your mind. If not with me that’s fine. But you have to talk to someone.”

The offer was steep. The urge to shut it all in was more than an instinct. Being guarded was the key to your survival. “Fine.” If tearing yourself apart meant Natalia could find peace, you would rip the flesh away yourself. “I can do that.”

She blinked as if she hadn’t expected you to agree. “Here.” She held out a blanket that had been folded at the end of the bed. 

“Thank you.” You shut off the light and laid on the floor. For a moment before your eyes adjusted you couldn’t see a thing besides pitch black. Your heart thundered in your chest as shapes began to fall back into focus. The rectangle dresser, the thick bed frame, the moonlight filtering in through the blinds on the window. Covered in the rather large blanket and supported by the carpeted floor you fell asleep. 

You dreamt most nights. Vivid atrocities doused in blood and the screams of pigs to the slaughter. The tip of a sword, plunged through the hearts of the guilty and innocent alike. A metal fist, knocking you sideways and ramming you in the face until your eyes swelled shut. Never stopping until its master called it off. Faceless bodies behind surgical masks, watching as you writhed under a spotlight like a bug under a magnifying glass. A burn beneath your skin so violent your jaw locked with the pain and you felt as if you couldn’t even draw the tiniest of breaths. 

None of them held a candle to the nightmare that cursed you tonight. It had visited since you were small, and it came often. Not just the feeling, but the memory of being suspended in limbo.

Your limbs froze, even your neck refused to lift your head as you stared at a single spot on the popcorn ceiling. The walls, the fear-soaked smell of your own sweat, the buzz of a lamp to your right all closed in on you. You couldn’t cry, you couldn’t speak, it took everything you had just to breathe.

Time stretched on and all you could do was lay there and stare at the ceiling. You tried to focus on the drone of the lamp instead of the heavy panting a foot away from you. But you never could completely. Your chest constricted with every breath but never reached the point of constriction. Your stomach crackled with repulsion, but bile never rose into your throat. You forever hung teetering on the edge, violation wrapped around your frail body. 

I’m trapped. I’m trapped. I’m trapped. I’m–

Your eyes flew open and you sat up, knocking skulls with someone else. A strangled noise leapt from your mouth into the silent air. No buzzing lamp. No heavy breathing besides your own. Your limbs had become tangled in a blanket and you thrashed to free yourself. 

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name. The word lassoed your mind and hauled you to the present. Concerned green eyes peered at you in the dark. You knew those eyes. For a second you imagined they belonged to a child no older than thirteen. She wasn’t supposed to be in your room. She wasn’t supposed to see you like this. “What are you doing in here?” You thrust your hand out to keep her away. “Get out.”

“Hey,” Natalia said, voice as gentle as the evening breeze. Her kindness would get her killed. She spoke your name again and the illusion dissolved some more. “You’re safe. You were dreaming. We’re at Clint Barton’s house in Iowa.” 

You got to your feet on shaky legs, looking through the woman in front of you. The room around you was not the one in the lingering dream and not the one you grew up sleeping in. 

A cool hand found your cheek and tilted your gaze down. “Come back,” Natalia said.

The shadows fled, no match for her. Not truly gone, but subdued for now. “I am sorry I woke you,” you said. 

“Don’t apologize.” She drew a breath. “I was awake anyways.”

“I guess sleep is not especially kind to either of us.”

“No. I guess not.” 

She pulled away, stepping into the splash of moonlight on the wall. You thought she looked like an angel, or maybe a ghost. Either way she looked ethereal, as if she might turn to smoke if you reached out to touch her.

“I thought you said you’d grown out of them,” she whispered, facing the light, and away from where you hunkered out of its reach.

Your jaw twitched. “I lied.”

She nodded to herself. Disappointed but not surprised. You thought she might berate you for it, present a list of the consequences until they were seared into your brain. Instead she just extended a hand and said, “Come here.”

You fell into her and let her pull you onto the edge of the bed. You sat there, feet planted on the floor. “I hope I did not wake anyone else,” you said.

“You didn’t,” she said, settling down beside you. “You were so quiet. I almost didn’t notice something was wrong.”

“What happened?”

“I just…had the feeling something was wrong. That I needed to check on you.” She turned your forearm up and traced her thumb over the pulse point on your wrist. “Your forehead was all sweaty and you were breathing super fast. You seemed so scared.”

“I am okay,” you said.

“It’s okay to not be sometimes. I think I’m starting to learn that.”

“I really am.” You wanted to say more. You chewed on your lip, staring at the door as if it could tell you what to do. Natalia, so small yet stronger than you in a million ways. She deserved to know how much she meant to you. “I am always more than okay when you are with me. You make me feel safe.”

“Do you mean it?” Her eyes met yours, pupils blown amidst the fern green iris. You wondered if it was because of you or the dark. 

“Yes,” you said. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I think…I would go through all of it again just to keep you.”

“I don’t know if I’m worth that much.” You wished she could see herself through your eyes so that she understood. 

“Natalia Romanova, you are worth the entire world.” Hesitantly you leaned over and kissed her temple, lips just grazing the soft skin. You pulled away, scanning her face for any sign of reproach. “Was that okay?”

“It was more than okay,” she said. She leaned her weight against you, shoulders pressing into each other. 

You sat like that for a while, listening to the sound of her gentle breathing and basking in the peaceful moment. Maybe if you could remember how you felt now you could summon the strength to serve SHIELD. You allowed your mind to wander to places you normally didn’t entertain. Someday you and Natalia would have your own place like this. A bubble no one else could touch where you could sit just like this every night. You would never have it though, only the filmy mirage of pretense.

Natalia moved to the other side of the bed, laying down on her side. “Come lay down with me,” she said.

You didn’t want to return to the floor, but you weren’t sure you could stay on the bed either. 

“Please.” Behind you the best dipped and a pair of arms slid around you. One of her hands came to rest right above your heart. She tucked her chin into the space between your neck and shoulder and involuntarily, you dropped your head against hers. “It is Christmas after all.”

Natalia tugged you down and you let her, lowering yourself until your back was flush against the mattress and your head lay in her lap. You refused to move your legs, leaving them draped over the side. “I am so sorry for the things I said earlier. I did not mean it.” Shame stabbed at your lungs and behind your eyes. Your jaw ached with it, and your tongue was sour with traces of your own bitterness. 

“It’s okay. I understand,” she said. You didn’t deserve her tenderness.

“You should not have to, Natalia. It is not fair for you to deal with.”

“Remember when we promised each other we’d never leave the other one alone?” 

You huffed a dry laugh. “We could not have been more than fourteen years old.”

“So more than old enough to know what we were saying,” she countered.

“It will happen again,” you said, tone darkening. 

“And I’ll be there when it does.”

“I cannot control it. Sometimes things happen and I feel everyone is out to get me.” You flicked your gaze away from her face. “Then the shouting and the hateful words and the rage comes. I do things I cannot take back.”

“That’s why you need people who know that that isn’t really you. Who know you’re kind and loyal to the bone. Who will help you heal.” 

“I am not sick,” you insisted. 

“I know. But we need to understand whatever this is,” she said. “Before it gets you into trouble with the wrong people.”

You took a deep breath, ribs shuddering like the bars of a rusted cage. “I am scared,” you whispered. 

Natalia ran a calloused hand across your cheek. “I know,” she said. “Just know you’re not alone. We’ll figure this out together.”

You nodded your head, afraid that speaking might reveal the lump in your throat.

“Come on, let’s get some rest,” she said, tugging on the collar of your shirt.

 “You are unbelievable,” you mumbled.

“What happened to me being the best person ever?”

“You can be both.”

She peered down at you, eyes alight with mischief. “I haven’t heard a ‘no’.”

Exhaustion had broken down your resolve, and you’d have a better chance of sleeping through the rest of the night in the bed. “Okay.” Your agreement had nothing to do with the way Natalia blinked slowly at you, nor the way she had taken to sifting her fingers through your hair.

“Finally,” she said, lips quirking up in a victorious smile. “You’re almost as stubborn as me. Not quite though.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you said, pushing yourself fully onto the bed. “Do not make me change my mind.”

You laid down and Natalia settled her head on your chest. “You’re so warm,” she said.

“Is that why you wanted me up here? Cause you were cold?” 

“No,” she said as she pressed her cheek further into your collarbone. “Go to sleep.”

“Goodnight Natalia.”

“Goodnight.”

You woke in the morning not to the terror of memory infiltrating your mind but to sunlight illuminating the space before your eyelids. You blinked rapidly, clearing away the morning bleariness. You couldn't recall the last time you had started your day after sunup. 

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Natalia said, still buried into your side. Under the sheet her legs tangled up in yours. 

You yawned, stretching your arms above your head. “Have you been awake long?”

“No,” she said. “Just a few minutes maybe. I think we should get up though. I imagine Cooper will be awake soon. It would be cruel to keep him waiting. I remember how exciting Christmas morning was.” She said, sounding far away. “It wasn’t real, but…there is something really magical about this time of year.”

You rubbed gentle circles on her upper back in between her shoulder blades where you knew she held tension. “It is real now, no? For the Bartons and for us, Christmas means something?” 

“Yeah,” she breathed, crinkles around her eyes when she looked at you. “This is real.” You had a feeling she wasn’t referring to the holidays anymore.

“Before we go downstairs I have something for you,” you said. You palmed the thin silver necklace that had been stored in your bag. “Turn around and close your eyes.”

“Should I be nervous?” She asked as she faced away from you.

“No, no.” You clasped the chain around her neck. “Okay you can look now.”

Natalia examined the charm, cupping it in her hand. “I um—I didn’t get you anything.”

“And you do not need to,” you said. “You are all I could ever want.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Clint took me out. I was saving it for the right time. Now seemed perfect.” You looked at the little silver sword strung hilt to blade tip along the necklace. Your signature weapon. “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” she said, smiling up at you in a way that made your head go empty and quiet. You felt as if everything might be okay when she smiled at you.

“It is, uh…It is to remind you that I am always on your side. That I am always with you even when it may seem like I am not.” Your heart pounded with fear she may reject the gift. She would cast it aside, and you with it.

“It’s perfect,” she said instead. “You’re perfect.”

“Merry Christmas Natalia.”

“Merry Christmas.”

A/N: The drive from D.C. to Iowa is definitely NOT doable in the time they make it in the story.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader

[mxlktxa]

late night kisses

﹥ˏˋ♡̩͙♡̩̩̥͙♡♡̩̥̩♡̩̩̥͙♡̩͙ˊˎ﹤

pairing; ellie williams x f!reader

summary; late nights were always tough on ellie. never really getting to sleep, sitting on the porch to smoke in order to keep her nerves calmed. thankfully shes got someone to help her back to bed.

warning; 18+/suggestive content, language, drug use

a/n; was telling my sister how my abby fic surpassed joel and the first words out of my mouth were “so abby beat joel”… im gonna cRY THAT WAS EMBARRASSING also i was gonna do a ghostface fic but the content would be kinda iffy to some and my sister said that i needed to be in an institution because of what i was gonna write… anyways heres ellie ☺️🤎

﹥ˏˋ♡̩͙♡̩̩̥͙♡♡̩̥̩♡̩̩̥͙♡̩͙ˊˎ﹤

“Ellie?” I opened the front door, finding the woman I had been looking for sat on the porch steps, doing her usual routine which consisted of smoking a little bit of weed and shoving some pepperoni slices into her mouth.

I kneeled behind her, wrapping my arms around her stomach. Her hands met mine, a strong whiff of weed coming off of her but I could obviously care less. My lips landed on the nape of her neck, hands lightly rubbing her waist as she hummed a little bit to greet me.

“Hi, baby,” I whispered between kisses, “Why didn’t you wake me up? We could’ve talked instead of you being stuck by yourself.”

“You looked like an angel. Even if you had a little bit of drool on the side of your mouth,” she chuckled as she responded to my question, handing me some of her snack. I reached for the treat, only to have Ellie pull away last second and insert half of it in her mouth.

“You’re so cheesy,” inching closer, I bit down on the half that was left out, kissing her afterwards, “Come to bed, Ellie. It’s cold out here and I miss you.”

“Miss me? I’m just outside,” Ellie put out the joint, cleaning up the area before helping me up from the ground.

“Yeah. Without me.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave a cutout of me in bed next time so you won’t feel so lonely,” Ellie rushed in the house as she laughed, before I could playfully punch her shoulder and call her an ass hat.

I followed her as she returned her snack to the fridge then snatched a water bottle, heading upstairs with my hand in hers. Once we reached our shared bedroom, I straddled Ellie as she sat on her side of the bed.

“Fuck. You’ve been wanting this ever since you found me, huh?” Ellie’s hands landed on my hips, lips resting on my hips and I gave a feeble ‘mm-hm’ as a response, “You’re so beautiful, princess,” her words went from one ear and right out the other as a hand reached below my waist to lightly rub on me through my panties, receiving a soft, shaky whimper from me.

I tried to keep eye contact with Ellie, but as per usual she overpowered me and I looked away, her hand coming up from my hip to force me to look at her. She chuckled at how hard I tried to look away, her lower hand now tugging the fabric aside and pulling me close to whisper in my ear.

“Lay down, gorgeous.”

Of course, I followed instructions, lying on my side of the bed while Ellie did everything to make sure to not break contact, to move in sync with me as I kept my eyes locked on hers. She hated to break contact during such an intimate moment like this. As if she was gonna be sent straight to hell if she even slightly broke the connection.

Soon, I had Ellie kissing, biting and licking all over my thighs, taking her time to reach my heat. She was just two seconds from her desired destination, peeking at me through her lashes, smirking before she wrapped her lips around my clit, arms snaking around my thighs to hold me close, minimize my struggles to wiggle away.

“Fuck. Ellie, yes,” sheepish, whines left my throat, more words trying to form but the only thing jumping off my lips was her name in such an embarrassing amount. There was humming emitting from her voice box, adding a bit of pleasure to the experience.

One of my hands reached for her arms that stayed glued to my thighs, the other raking through her hair to push her closer to me, earning a chuckle from her.

Ellie’s tongue was just having its own field day inside of me, attempting to rip some rowdy moans from me. In her near success, I reached for a pillow, drowning out the wails I had given her.

“Please, baby, I’m so fucking close. Don’t stop, Ellie, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I begged after I threw the pillow aside, now using both hands to keep her from pulling away.

Back arched and breath now shaky, I could feel an airtight knot producing in my abdomen, struggling to keep its strength. Ellie may have caught on as she went back to abusing my sensitive nub, her grip so much more sturdy than earlier.

I was nearly tearful at how overwhelmed I felt, finally feeling the knot snap and my orgasm washing over me so suddenly. That didn’t stop Ellie for about two minutes, trying to milk out every bit of my high, hands brushing over my stomach.

After slightly overstimulating me, she hovered over me, placing kisses all over my face before meeting her lips to mine, my own taste seeping to my tongue.

“You okay? You need a snack or a drink or something?” Ellie muttered, caressing my face softly. I could only shake my head, immediately feeling sleepy to her touch, “At least take a tiny sip of water for me. Please?”

“Baby-.”

“Just a quick one,” she begged, handing me the water bottle she had gotten earlier. I giggled, opening my mouth as she opened and poured the cold refreshment into my mouth, “Atta girl. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, please stay in bed. Or at least wake me up to talk.”

“I can’t promise that. But I’ll definitely think of doing so,” with that, Ellie wrapped us up in the blankets, holding me close and kissing my forehead as a goodnight.

#𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 ⋆˚✿˖° #the last of us #the last of us p2 #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou2 fanfic #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams #ellie miller #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fanfic #i love this woman #im sorry for the spam on her #but god #i need her #shes so fine

[letsgetrowdy43]

Oh Christmas tree—

Request: “You took me on a cut-your-own-Christmas-tree-farm date & holy frick you make a cute lumberjack I WAS UNPREPARED” for the tiny dancer au ❤️❄️

Baby, it's cold outside event!!

Au Masterlist!!

Sunny was sweating due to the sight in front of her

Christmas was just around the corner and with the busy schedule of Sunny finally settling into her new position as the Blue Jackets' lead reporter, and with Adam playing games on the road every other day they had no time to really get ready for the holiday season.

So when Adam and her finally landed back in Ohio, they sat in their cold apartment and contemplated how they wanted to spend the remainder of their off day. Which is how they ended up in the middle of a Christmas tree farm, coffee in hand as they walked through rows upon rows of pine trees.

Her face was nipped red from the cold air, as she watched her boyfriend chopping down the tree she picked out. The insides of her lips chewed as she fought off the urge to tell him just how good he looked.

He looked so sexy, as he swung the axe at the base of the tree, his brows furrowed with concentration as she watched him puff out his chest.

"You okay there Sun?" Adam perked up at her, smiling at the endearing look of her bundled up in her puffy jacket and knit scarf, nose pinky from the chilly air as she nodded sweetly. Her cheeks reddening by the second as he stood up and rid himself of his flannel jacket and his beanie, "I'm fine!" she laughed as he raised a brow at her rushed response.

His hand raked through his grown-out hair as he caught her staring once again, admiring the way his arms looked in his compression shirt, and how his muscles flexed under the fabric. Her eyes flitted from him to the other people around also chopping down trees as she realized she was seen.

“You’re staring Sunshine,” he mused as she shook her head and hid her face in her hands. “Stop making fun of me,” she scolded in a hushed tone. “I'm not babe, just wanna know what's got you all flustered?” he stopped what he was doing to get closer to her.

She shook her head, face still in her hands as she groaned into her palms, “You know why.” “I'm afraid I don't?” he feigned innocence as she peeked up from her hands to see him cockily smirking. “You're so hot,” she whispered and looked around to see if any of the families around them were paying attention.

Adam's face lit up at her embarrassment, “I couldn't hear you, can you say it again?" Sunny screwed her eyes shut before opening them and harshly glaring at him as her cheeks grew even redder, "You take me out here on a cute date, cut down a tree for our first ever real Christmas together, and you look like a sexy lumberjack in your slutty workout shirt," she huffed as his grin grew.

"Did you just refer to my shirt as slutty?" he asked as she rolled her eyes and nodded. "Yes, it doesn't leave much to the imagination," she grins mischievously as her hand reaches out to squeeze his bicep, "slut."

"You think I look sexy?" her hand clasped over his mouth. "Shut up and go finish chopping down the tree so we can go home," she mumbled. With every statement his grin grew and so did his ego, "go home and do what?" he was pulling out the innocent tone again as he raised his eyebrows. "Go," she pointed to the tree as he smiled and nodded, leaning down to place a warm kiss on her cheek and she hummed at the sensation, "and hurry!" she called out as he walked back over to the tree as quickly as possible.

-

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Edit!! I just realized that I think you requested an insta edit and I made it a blurb, I'm so sorry I can redo it

#tinydancerau!! #adam fantilli #adam fantilli insta edit #adam fantilli blurb #adam fantilli imagine #umich hockey #umich imagine #columbus blue jackets

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Make That Kitty Purr

Title: Make That Kitty Purr

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader

Fandom: Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Warnings: voyeurism, cheating, unprotected p-in-v (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, breeding kink, August is an asshole, Mike deserves better (hurt/comfort with time)

A/N: This post (sort of) inspired this fic. So a special shout-out to @peyton-warren. I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING, but these are fictional characters. This story is dark, so FAIR WARNING. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. (more notes at the end of the work - I am very nervous while posting this! 🫣)

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

When Mike invites you up to his Uncle’s cabin for the weekend, you are beyond excited. You’ve never been away with him and this is the perfect opportunity to have a little fun away from your college roommates. You love them, but it’s so hard to get some alone time with two other girls breathing down your neck.

You pull up to the cabin on Friday afternoon and notice another car already in the driveway, a tall man dressed rather sharply grabbing a suitcase out of the trunk. As he turns around, you recognize Mikey’s Uncle August. I guess we’re not going to be alone this weekend after all.

Mikey puts the car in park and jumps out before you can even unbuckle yourself. “Uncle August, what are you doing here?”

“My schedule changed so I figured I would come and check on the cabin while you were up here,” August put down his luggage and rolls his sleeves up before running a hand over his mustache.

“Well, we were kinda thinking we would have the place to ourselves, actually,” Mike says, walking around the car after turning it off.

“We?” August’s head tilts as his eyes land on the passenger window.

You watch the exchange from the car, seeing that August has finally noticed you. Exiting the car, you close the door behind you and join Mike who puts a possessive arm around your waist.

“Uncle August, this is my girl. You remember her, right?” 

August nods and correctly remembers your name, letting it pass over his tongue slowly. While Mike is smiling down at you, August lets his eye rake over you from head to toe. If Mike had seen, he would not have been happy. But, you decide it’s best to just let it go. Just harmless fascination. Isn’t it?

“Michael, why don’t you get the bags while I take your girl inside out of the cold? You can handle that, right?” Before you know it, your hand is taken by a large paw and you are led inside the cabin. August walks close to you and you can smell his aftershave up close, the scent intoxicating.

You’re surprised when it takes Mike as long as it does to get all of the bags into the cabin. You packed pretty light, but August has him take everything to the rooms instead of leaving them by the hallway. You notice August is staying on the bottom floor of the cabin while you and Mike are staying in another room on the second floor.

While Mike is upstairs, August goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of wine. He pours two glasses and offers you the other. You don’t miss how his fingers linger on yours.

“What shall we toast to, Princess?” You don’t hide the shiver that runs down your spine at the pet name.

“Um, to…a hot tub and time away from annoyances,” You lift your glass over to connect with August’s. He holds your gaze as he takes a sip. Alright, maybe not a harmless fascination.

Mike’s voice startles you as it booms through the cabin, “Sweetcheeks, you wanna get in the hot tub now or later?” Sometimes you really wish Mike had a chill mode, but you really loved the adorable goofball.

“August, do you wanna join us?” You try and appear innocent in your offer but you also are intrigued about seeing the muscular man shirtless.

“Maybe later, I’ll get started on dinner while you two have some time alone,” August takes your wine glass and tops it off, and sends you up to find Mike. You can feel his eyes on you as you walk away, but you don’t dare look back.

As you get in the hot tub after getting changed into your bathing suit, the sun is setting over the mountains. Mike’s hands and mouth are over you in an instant, not caring what his Uncle may be seeing. He pulls you into his lap and attacks your neck. Your eyes close at the sensation and when they open, a gorgeous set of oceanic blues lock on you.

August is watching you as Mike slides a hand into your suit bottoms. You know you should tell Mike to stop but the idea of putting on a show for August is a temptation you can’t ignore. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as Mike’s fingers circle your clit before sliding into your entrance. Clutching a hand in his hair, you bite your lip as you ride Mike’s fingers.

As August watches you, he grips and strokes his cock through his pants. You reason with yourself that since you aren’t touching each other, this isn’t cheating. This is just slightly inappropriate, nothing to truly worry about.

Mike’s attention to finger-fucking you is gone as he pulls out his cock, pulling your bottoms to the side. He swiftly enters you and pulls you down onto him fully. Within seconds, you adjust to Mike’s cock and start to ride him while maintaining eye contact with August.

Mike pulls out your tits from your suit top and gives attention to your nipples. The man loves your boobies and it keeps him occupied as you continue your impromptu sex show for August. The older man unzips himself and for a moment, you think you’re going to be graced with the sight of his cock, but he only reaches in to stroke himself. Watching him watching you is enough to send you over the edge. Mike follows after you shortly, spilling inside you.

You watch as August pulls his hand out of his pants, zips himself up, and walks out of your field of vision. It doesn’t look like he came and you instantly want to help him over the edge but hold yourself together as you lift off of Mike’s sensitive cock. You move yourself to sit next to Mike and rest your head against his shoulder as you both catch your breath and readjust your clothing. A million thoughts run through your head, the most severe of which is gnawing at your soul.

You want August, and it’s obvious he wants you back. How could you want something like that? Mike isn’t perfect, but he’s yours. He adores you and you think the world of him. Yes, he can be a bit aloof, but he’s genuinely interested in your happiness. He doesn’t deserve to be fucked over by your own selfish desires.

You are broken out of your reverie minutes later as August beckons you both to come in for dinner. You both towel off and put on robes. August already has the table set with three plates and he sits at the head of the table with you and Mike sitting across from each other. 

The conversation comes easily enough, August mostly focuses on asking you about what you are studying and what your future plans are. Mike seems to be none the wiser that August is paying you so much attention as he shovels pasta in his face. August refills your wine glass, handing it to you, his fingers once again lingering. August finally turns his gaze to Mike and asks what you all have planned for the weekend. 

Mike mentions you are scheduled to go to a beer garden tomorrow and you would be meeting some friends afterward. You don’t remember making plans to meet up with friends but you go with it anyway. Mike’s friends were pretty cool anyway, at least the ones you’ve met. Well, Derrick could be annoying and could make Mike completely miserable to be around but hopefully, he wouldn’t be there tomorrow.

You all finish dinner shortly thereafter, a few glasses of wine in your system. August gets up, and you assume he is going to start clearing the table. “August, you cooked, we can clear the table.”

“Nonsense. You’re a guest here,” he says, waving you off, “Michael can clean up the kitchen while I give you a quick tour.” He holds out his hand to lead you through the living room, and that same hand ends up on your lower back. 

Your bare feet pad softly on the hardwood while his shiny shoes clack next to you. Your robe is the only thing preventing August from touching your skin directly. The heat coming off of his hand is enough to elicit a shiver from you. Instead of mentioning it, he just smiles down at you and walks you into the spacious entertainment room.

A large television screen is in front of a sectional couch. Two vintage full-height arcade game systems stand against either side wall. A pool table sits on the right, while a poker table is to the left. You’re impressed with the setup and you say as much.

“Yeah, I like to entertain sometimes. You’re welcome to this room whenever you want. Most of the streaming apps are already set up and there’s a Playstation and XBOX as well if you’re interested,” August points over to the tv, leaning in as he speaks.

“I can already see Mike getting lost in here for a few hours,” you snort, trying to hide your obvious annoyance.

“I’m sure you can keep him occupied, Princess.” There goes that pet name again. You look up at August and he grins like the Cheshire cat down at you.

If Mike hadn’t walked in when he did, you would have leaned into that smile. “I was looking for you guys. Sweetcheeks, are you ready for bed? I’m exhausted.”

“You’re tired from cleaning the kitchen?” August teased, knowing full well that wasn’t what tired the younger man out.

“Yeah…well, it’s a big…kitchen, so,” Nice save, Mike.

“Sounds like a good idea, baby. Let’s go,” you grab Mike’s hand and turn toward August, “Night, August.”

“Goodnight, you two,” August hums, looking from you to his nephew.

The two of you head to bed upstairs, arm in arm. It takes everything out of you not to turn around and look at August once more.

In the middle of the night, you pull yourself out of Mike’s grip and head to the bathroom. You notice your throat is dry and decide to go to the kitchen for a bottle of water. August is already in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. As he picks up the lowball of amber liquid, he turns to greet you.

“You alright, Princess?” The genuine concern in his voice almost overshadows the fact that he is only clad in a tight pair of boxer briefs. Almost. 

Instead of answering, you are entranced by his hairy chest and defined abdominals. Muscular arms and thick thighs are on full display. You’re sure you’re staring but he doesn’t seem to mind as he makes his way over to you. It seems like he moves in slow motion and your brain doesn’t fully comprehend when he reaches out to you.

His warm hand on your arm reminds you that you forgot to put on a robe before coming downstairs. Your crop top and cheeky underwear leave little to the imagination and you look down at yourself before looking from his hand back up at him. As if seeing your thoughts across your face, August removes his hand from your shoulder.

“I just came down for some water.” You’re surprised that you were able to get those words out, as whiny as they were. Your dry throat returns after you speak.

August nods and turns around to go back to the fridge. The ass on this man is ridiculous too, that’s just unfair. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and brings it back to you. He holds it out to you, and you take it shakily before opening it and taking a sip. You cap it again and hold it up to your suddenly warm neck. You let out a sigh and close your eyes for a beat. When you open them, August is standing closer to you. You didn’t even hear him take a step.

You slowly lower the water bottle from your skin and August takes it, putting your bottle and his scotch down on the nearby dining table. When he turns back to you, he reaches up and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He takes his time leaning in, giving you an out to easily lean back.

But you don’t lean back, you lean into him as he slots your mouths together. You whimper into his mouth and it is all over from there. He drops your chin, his hands sliding from your face to your neck and down your back until they settle under your ass as he lifts you up into his arms.

“Tell me you want me, Princess,” August whispers, the heat coming off his clothed cock blazing into your core, “You want me to take care of you?”

Fuck.

“Yes,” you whimper, carding a hand through his thick head of hair. 

“That’s my good girl,” he groans, walking to his bedroom. He kisses your neck, nipping at it as he settles you back upon his bed. He hovers over you for a moment, rubbing your covered sexes together. Letting you have ample time to change your mind while making sure you won’t.

“Please,” you whine, no longer able to hide your desire to have him inside you.

“Please what? Say it,” he grunts, pressing his groin harder into you.

“Fuck me, August.” is all he needs to hear before he’s pulling your underwear down and off. He doesn’t remove his own, only tucks them under his balls as he runs the head of his dick through your sopping folds. He enters slowly and gradually, letting you adjust to his girth and length.

Once he is fully seated inside you, he begins a punishing rhythm that has your cervix screaming. Your legs wrap around his waist and his hand finds your throat, placing slight pressure on the sides. The older man has you in a daze soon enough, filthy words leaving both of your mouths.

Fuck, this pussy is too good…

Who do you belong to?

Oh, my God, harder, please! 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…

That’s right, come all over this dick…

Gonna breed this tight little cunt, Princess!

His hips stutter in their movement and you are soon flooded with his spend. He doesn’t stop fucking you until you come again, some of his seed leaking out past his cock as he pulls himself out. He looks down and smiles watching you leak with his spunk, before laying next to you. He draws you closer to rest your head on his chest.

He kisses your forehead in a sweet gesture. Juxtaposed with the filthy act you’ve just committed, you suddenly feel nauseous. You bite back bile as you rest against August. You wish the Earth would open up and swallow you whole. You stay like that for a minute more, feeling your legs get wet with his cum as it leaks from you. 

Your world implodes, the gravity of cheating on Mike suddenly screaming its way into the forefront of your mind. You hate yourself and you hate August for tempting you.

You get up quickly, finding and putting on your underwear before all but running out of August’s room, his voice calling behind you doesn’t stop you. You reach the upstairs bathroom connected to your bedroom and make it to the toilet in the nick of time. Your dinner comes back up so harshly that you end up waking Mike up with your gagging.

He comes to hold your hair out of the way and rub a soothing hand on your back. As you finish, you spit, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You close the lid, sitting down on the floor next to Mike as he looks at you concerned.

“Mike, baby, I’m so sorry.” 

“Sweetcheeks, what are you sorry for? You just got sick is all.”

“Not saying sorry for that, I have to tell you something.”

“Babe, you’re scaring me, what’s going on?” Mike’s voice quivers and it is all you can do to stop yourself from kissing his frown away because you’re about to break his heart.

“I…slept with August,” you blurt out, and you start to cry before you can help it.

Mike isn’t saying anything and you wonder what is even going through his head. You hazard a look over to his face. His jaw is working in anger and he pulls his knees up to his chest.

“Mike, I’m so sor-”

“We’re leaving. Get dressed.” Mike cuts you off and gets up from the floor. You get up and follow him to the bedroom, pulling on your jeans and hoodie quickly as he begins to pack your suitcases quietly.

You watch him move about the room mechanically. You wish he would talk to you. But, you know you don’t deserve to be comforted. He needs and deserves better than you. As he finishes, he pulls on his own clothes and takes your things downstairs.

You follow him down, pausing when you both see August now wearing just pajama bottoms. He actually looks surprised to see you both dressed and holding your luggage.

“Go to the car, I’ll be out in a sec, ok?” Mike’s voice is eerily calm as he hands you the car keys and ushers you outside.

“Mike, let’s just lea-”

“I said, go to the car. I’ll be right there,” he barely raises his voice, but he pushes slightly on your shoulder to get you outside. Like he doesn’t want you to witness something.

You grab your own luggage and head outside, closing the door behind you. You try and block out the sounds of a struggle in the cabin as you walk across the gravel driveway. You put your suitcase in the trunk and get in the car. You’re putting on your seatbelt as Mike comes out of the cabin, his hair and clothes a mess. He gets in the car and white-knuckles the steering wheel as he stretches his jaw.

“Mike?” You cautiously reach out to move hair behind his ear and he lets you.

“I want you to know that I know he put the moves on you. I forgive you, but I can’t forget. I hate him, not you,” he groans, putting a hand over yours, “When we get back, we’re gonna start over ok? We’ll get through this.”

“Ok, baby,” you sniffle, trying to hold back your surprise that he still wants to be with you.

You make the long journey back to school and Mike comes up to your room. You both remove your shoes and lay down in your bed. He wraps his arms around you, your back to his chest. He pulls you close and you relish his warmth. 

“I love you, Sweetcheeks.” 

“I love you, too, Mikey,” you tangle your legs with his and thank your lucky stars for another chance to make this exquisite man happy.

You both decide to never speak about your time at the cabin ever again. 

You don’t bring it up when you see August at the grocery store weeks later. The remnants of a black eye and an angry scar going down the right side of his face are a sight. Enough to have you turning around and going down another aisle before leaving your cart behind and exiting the store.

You end up going to another grocery store before heading back to your dorm. Mike is there waiting for you and trying his best to work his way through a term paper. He looks up as you enter, getting up to take the bags from you and kissing your forehead.

Sometimes, you can still see the look of sadness on Mike’s face out of the corner of your eye. You can still feel the sting of Mike’s promise to never forget with every I love you. You know you deserve to feel the pain of your actions and you do with every day that passes. You also know Mike will always deserve better than you, even when he tells you that he’s so blessed to have you.

Years later, Mike takes you to your favorite restaurant. He walks you along the boardwalk, waiting until you are all alone, and gets down on one knee. You’re so surprised that you immediately start to cry. He chooses his words carefully and he puts the ring on your finger. As he stands to his full height, he wraps you up in a hug. He tells you he loves you and you melt in his arms.

You try and push down the thought that he’s settling for you, but you know that is a futile effort. The only thing on your mind is making Mike happy. And you’ll do whatever he asks, with a smile on your face and love in your heart.

A/N: Can you tell I was in a depressive state when I wrote this? This was a songfic originally and then *stuff* happened.

A/N: I’d like to apologize to both fans of Mikey and fans of August. While this story is dark and a complete AU, I still feel the need to say I’m sorry for this portrayal of August and that Mikey was hurt. I was thinking, for my crimes against humanity, I owe fandom very fluffy Mike fics. Two fluffy stories to make up for this, actually.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director’s Cut]

**Tag List**

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@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

@poppypink

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz  😁 Also, if you want to be removed from tags, lemme know!

#make that kitty purr #august walker #august walker x reader #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker fic #henry cavill #mike (hellraiser) x reader #mikey hellraiser #mike hellraiser fanfiction #mike (hellraiser) #hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic teaser #henry cavill characters #mike hellraiser fic #hellraiser hellworld #mission: impossible fallout #mission impossible: fallout #mission: impossible fallout #mission impossible fallout #crossover au

[strangerqueerthings]

Lifeline

Joyce finds an unconscious Billy Hargrove in her house after getting the Mindflayer out of Will- and her first instinct is to take care of him.

(Also: Why we didn't see much of Neil after S2- Joyce Byers put the fear of MOM into him.) CW for child abuse and Neil Hargrove. On AO3

The scene Joyce comes home to that night would have sent the average single mom into a spiral of panic, but Joyce Byers is anything but the average single mom.

She’s come home to many strange things, the past year bringing even more strange and frankly, terrifying things, so she feels like this isn’t nearly as bad as it could be. In fact, it’s just your garden variety “odd” thing, compared to everything else.

Even the demo-dog falling out of her fridge is almost “normal,” all things considered, but she can’t be bothered to ask why there’s a monster in her fridge.

She has more important things to deal with- like the unconscious boy on her living room floor.

He's about Jonathan's age, a bruise on his jaw, his lip bloody, knuckles raw, and blood dried under his nose. He’s clearly been in a fight- and based on the fact that Joyce can’t find the kids, or Steve Harrington, they were involved somehow.

What makes Joyce concerned, however, is the empty syringe on the floor beside him, and the bruise on his neck.

Two years ago, Joyce would have panicked. She would have called Hopper, or Gary, and Jonathan would have helped her calm down while they got the boy to the hospital.

She’s not that same woman anymore.

Joyce kneels beside the boy and puts her fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. It’s slow, but steady, and his chest is rising and falling rhythmically. He’s fine- mostly- but out cold.

“Jonathan, do you know this boy?” she asks as her eldest comes inside, cradling Will in his arms, Nancy behind him.

“That’s Billy Hargrove,” Jonathan says, frowning. “Why is he here? What happened to him?”

“That’s what I need to know,” Joyce says, peeling off her jacket and bundling it up so she can slide it under Billy’s head to prop it up.

Outside, an engine roars, and headlights rake across the house. There’s a crunch of gravel as a car comes to an abrupt halt, and moments later, the car is shut off, and the sound of many feet coming towards the house is heard.

Joyce gets up, hands on her hips as Will’s friends approach the porch.

“Everyone inside, now,” she orders, her tone leaving no room for argument- even Steve is cowed as he comes inside.

She can see the bruises, the swelling, the cuts all over his face, and it’s obvious who Billy got in a fight with- and who lost that fight.

But how did Billy end up knocked out on her floor? And why was he even here?

“Everyone is going to explain this, right now,” she says, pointing at Billy, then at the car.

They all clamor to explain at the same time, and it’s a blur of words. Billy going nuts, beating the shit out of Steve, threatening Lucas, Max’s brother, then the syringe, and something about a baseball bat with nails being smacked into her floor-

“Enough!”

Everyone stops as Hopper and El enter the house, Hopper bellowing out the word to silence the chaos of too many explanations at once. Hopper points at Steve.

“You first.”

As Steve recounts the events of the evening after Hopper had left with El to shut the Gate, Billy moans and stirs. His eyes flutter open, and he tries to sit up. His eyes are unfocused, blurry, then fall on Joyce and Hopper.

“Shit.”

The way his face drains of blood, his expression going completely dead, the way he won’t look either of them in the eye all send alarms going off in Joyce’s head.

“Hey,” Joyce says, kneeling beside him. Her voice is soft, careful.

“It’s okay. No one’s in trouble, here. We just want to know what happened.”

“He beat the shit out of Steve, is what happened,” Mike interjects. “He would have killed him if Max hadn’t drugged him!”

Billy’s expression doesn’t change, but his left eye twitches ever so slightly, his hard, dead eyes falling on Steve.

“I had every right,” he manages, his speech still a bit slurred. “The fuck were you doing with my step-sister, Harrington?”

Joyce glances at Steve, who still manages to look affronted, despite the severe beating he took.

“I wasn’t doing anything!”

“Max runs away through her window, and I have to go looking all over town for her, only to finally find her here, near the lab where people say weird shit happens, it’s dark, there’s all these weird ass drawings and polaroid tapes all over the place, there’s no adults, and you flat out lie to me that she’s not here? What the fuck did you expect me to think, Harrington? And then I get drugged, and it’s-“

Billy stops his rant, glancing at his watch, and his face pales even further- something Joyce didn’t think was possible.

“It’s two in the morning, do you know how much shit I’m gonna be in when I finally get home?”

The way his voice trembles at the end is soft, barely noticeable, but Joyce knows that sound when she hears it- and so does Hopper. They look at each other, and Hopper nods.

“You’re not going home, kid,” Hopper says gently. “We need to get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”

Billy is so pale now that he looks like he might faint, and his eyes are glittering with unshed tears of panic.

“I can’t,” he says softly. “I gotta get Max home…”

Hopper shoots a sidelong glance at Steve.

“I’m sure you don’t want to be brought to the station instead, but if you agree to go to the hospital, we can avoid that, or any charges.”

Steve and Billy glare at each other, an unspoken argument sparking between them as they wait for one of them to make a challenge. It’s Steve who looks away first, shrugging.

“No, I don’t want to deal with going to the station. My old man would be pissed as hell if I was brought up on charges for fighting again.”

The look he and Jonathan exchange says it all.

“Come on, sweetie,” Joyce says, holding out her hand to Billy. “Let’s get you to the hospital and make sure you’re okay.”

The way Billy shies away from her hand, flinching like she’s about to slap him, then the way his eyes look from her hand to her face, like a kicked puppy that isn’t sure if the hand is a threat or not breaks her heart.

“It’s okay,” she says softly, just loud enough to where only he can hear. “I want to help you.”

He still doesn’t take her hand. He shifts his legs and stands up on his own, wobbling and swaying a bit as the floor spins under his feet. Joyce slides an arm around his waist, steadying him.

“Come on,” she says kindly, and leads him outside to the vehicles.

“My car,” he manages, sounding upset.

There’s a dent in the front driver’s side above the wheel well where Max had hit a mailbox. Billy looks devastated.

“What happened to my car?”

“Easy, Billy,” Joyce soothes him. “We’ll take care of it, I promise, but for now, we need to get you to the hospital.”

Billy is quiet, withdrawn, as he’s helped into the back of Joyce’s car. Max gets in beside him, and he refuses to look at her, closing his eyes and dozing in and out the entire way there as the drug works its way out of his system.

The ER is bright, clean, and it makes Billy’s head ache. The sounds of monitors beeping, the buzz of doctors and patients alike all make him want to scream. In the curtained partition beside him, Steve is having his wounds cared for, and on the other side, Will is being examined for who-knows-what, but Billy saw how pale, sweaty and beat up the kid looked, and Billy wishes he could sneak out while Will is getting the medical attention he needs.

Billy doesn’t need anything except to go home before it’s too late.

Joyce flits between Will and Billy’s partitions. She soothes Billy that it’s going to be okay, Hopper is taking care of it, and no one will get in trouble. He wants to believe her, but he can’t.

Joyce sees the haunted look in his eyes, the way the panic in his face is slowly increasing with each minute they’re there in the ER. She sees the way he keeps looking at his watch, the way he’s fidgeting and fussing, restless and nervous.

When the nurses take off his shirt to put him in a hospital gown, Joyce feels her blood boil, her concern exploding into outrage.

The Hargrove boy’s back is a mess of bruises of varying shades and colors, and scars of different ages ranging from years old to possibly only a few months.

Hopper gets a glimpse of the boy’s back when Joyce yanks hard on his arm, motioning silently in Billy’s direction, and his jaw sets firmly. He knows what likely caused those scars. He’s seen it enough to know, and the panicked look on Billy’s face just confirms it.

He knows why Billy is so desperate to get home, while being absolutely terrified to at the same time.

When Neil Hargrove shows up, Hopper has every intention of pulling the man aside, to talk to him, but Joyce, as is her wont to do when her maternal instincts are riled up, beats him to it.

“I’m here to collect my son,” Neil is saying to a nurse when Joyce is immediately in his face.

“So you’re the bastard who’s made his own kids scared of him? What, are you going to take him home and beat him with a belt again?”

Neil recoils.

“And who the hell are you?”

Hopper steps between them.

“I’m the Chief of police, can I have a word, Mister Hargrove?”

“What did William do this time?” Neil all but snarls.

“Your son had a car accident. A deer leapt in front of the car,” Hopper says, the lie coming out as smooth as butter.

Between Owens, the lab, El, and Murray, he’s gotten a lot of practice lying to people.

“Thing is, he swerved- he side swiped a tree, but it would have been a lot worse if he hadn’t. Might have had casualties. He would have gone straight off the edge into the quarry if he hadn’t. Even in a situation like that, he’s got great control of his car. Rather impressive, really.”

“By the quarry?” Neil asks in disbelief. “He was supposed to be finding his sister.”

Hopper lifts a brow.

“Kids her age go hang out by the quarry. Good place to stargaze at night. No harm in it.”

Neil catches a glimpse of Billy through the curtains, and Billy flinches, pressing back into the pillows to get out of view. Neil scowls.

“And he got into a fight, it looks like.”

“Max had an older kid with the group watching over them. Your son misunderstood the situation and was defending her. The other boy isn’t pressing charges, by the way.”

“So let me get this straight,” Neil says. “He finds his sister, thinks a boy his age is being inappropriate, beats him up, tries to take her home, and nearly wrecks because of a deer… and you somehow show up and bring him to the hospital?”

Joyce is trembling with rage beside Hopper, and she finally speaks up.

“My son was out there, too,” she says heatedly. “Jonathan was the one who went and got Hopper when he went to pick Will up and saw the wreck.”

“My question is,” Hopper cuts in. “Why was your son driving so recklessly in order to get home? Why is he afraid to even look at you right now? And how did he get all those bruises and scars on his back?”

Neil doesn’t have an answer as Hopper stares him down, and Joyce is glaring at him with an unbridled fury that has him taken aback.

“He knows his place- he has respect and responsibility, and he knows it’s meant to be upheld,” is all Neil can think to say.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Joyce spits. “When I told him we needed to take him to the hospital, he panicked. He was scared to go to a hospital, even though he’d been in a car accident, because he’s scared of you.”

Joyce is a tiny woman, but Hopper swears she was ten feet tall right then, for how small Neil Hargrove looked in the face of her fury.

“You don’t have anything to take me in for,” Neil says softly. “Billy’s a klutz and a daredevil, always has been. Just ask anyone who knows him, they’ll tell you he’s a reckless driver, or how he used to cut himself up on rocks when he surfed.”

“Look, Mister Hargrove. Both kids need to be cleared from the hospital. It’s late- or early, as it were. Go home. We’ve got it under control, and we’ll call you when the doc says they can go,” Hopper says.

Neil smiles, a cold, sickly expression that makes the contents of Joyce’s stomach curdle.

“They’re my children,” Neil replies. “As such, I have the authority to take them home if I deem it necessary.”

“Not if I suspect child abuse and want to make a report,” Hopper says coldly, dropping his casual affect and going into Chief-of-Police Mode. “Then by all means, we can go to the station and take your statement, make it a matter of record for CPS.”

“I’m their father-“

“You’re not a father, you’re a bully, a monster, and I don’t know if anyone told you this yet, but in Hawkins, we don’t tolerate monsters of any kind,” Joyce cuts in.

The dead demo-dog in her fridge was proof of that.

Hopper folds his arms over his chest.

“Go home, Mister Hargrove. We’ll call you.”

Neil deflates, defeated, but Hopper suspects this won’t stop him. If anything, it’ll be worse when the kids are released. At least for Billy, it will.

“You made things worse,” Billy says when Hopper comes back around the curtain. “He’s only going to tighten the leash now.”

Joyce sits beside him. Normally, she would feel guilty, giving so much attention to a boy she barely knows, when her own son has been through a terrible ordeal, but Will is asleep, sedated, and for now, all she can do for Will is wait with him until Owens and his team come to handle the details the civilian doctors aren’t privy to.

For now, she can at least give this poor boy some reassurance.

“Listen,” she says, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket, and grabbing a pen from the clipboard at the foot of Billy’s bed. “Here’s my number. If anything happens to you, and you need a safe place to go, you call me, okay?”

“I…”

“Put my number on there, too, Joyce,” Hopper adds. “If he hurts you, or your sister, you call me, and I’ll drag him to the station.”

Joyce hands him the piece of paper, and Billy stares at it.

“He won’t hurt Max,” he says quietly. “It’s always my fault, so it’s always my punishment.”

“If he hurts you, you call me,” Hopper says again, insistently.

Billy folds the paper over and over into a tiny little square, and tucks it into the very corner of his wallet, making it as unnoticeable as possible.

“Thank you,” he says, unable to look at either of them.

“I mean it,” Joyce says. “We don’t tolerate monsters like Neil in Hawkins. You call us if he hurts you, and we’ll handle it.”

Billy nods. It’s clear he doesn’t believe her, but the fact that he took care to hide the number in his wallet says more than his mute nod does. He’s saving it as a lifeline.

“I just want to sleep,” he finally says. “…thank you, for bringing me here and chasing him away.”

Joyce squeezes his shoulder before leaving, and Hopper nods at him, closing the curtain behind him to give Billy some privacy.

Billy lies back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling. His head hurts, his nose burns and still smells like salt and copper, his neck is sore from where Max jabbed him, and his heart is still racing from hearing Neil’s voice.

He knows he’s going to get the full brunt of it sooner or later- once Neil thinks that Hopper and Joyce won’t be paying attention, or in a different way that doesn’t leave marks, or some other punishment that won’t involve a beating, but will still be just as bad, if not worse.

For now, though, he feels like he might be able to handle it.

There’s a small spark of hope, a tiny lifeline, hidden in his wallet, and maybe, if he can be brave enough, he can use it to keep from drowning.

#billy hargrove #sqt drabble

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Of Dresses and Disguises

Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo x Transported!Reader

A plan of dresses and disguises is bound to be a disaster.

CONTENT WARNING: self-harm scars, self-harm shaming, drug usage, aphrodisiacs

To be truthful, you have no idea why Alver had suggested to recommend you a designer when you already knew one, but when he mentioned the bill being on him, you immediately jumped on the offer.

"The dress isn't complicated to make at all — it's simple and short," you had explained to the designer as you sketched out what kind of dress you wanted.

The designer takes your sketch, eyes raking the drawings with a keen eye, and over time, they began to glimmer with interest. "How scandalous!"

You let out a chuckle, taking a seat on the couch in the parlor. "I need it in black. And please add a white shawl so I won't get cold."

"In black? I must say, Miss [Name], your taste is impeccable," the designer complimented. "To have this style of dress shortened and corset removed. Would you like it to be form-fitting still?"

"Yes," you answered. "Shall we get my measurements?"

The designer clapped their hand and their assistants began to move. They measured and took notes of your size, jotting them down quickly before having you choose the fabric for the dress. Afterward was picking on jewelry and a matching purse to go with the dress.

It didn't take long for the designer to finish making the dress — they have been warned that your order must be prioritized as it was for urgent use — so when they returned two days later with the finished dress, purse, and jewelry, the operation began.

Your dress was a short black dress that stopped mid-thigh with a straight-across neckline and a thin draped hanging sleeve. You chose an elegant, tiered, pearly choker and a black purse with a golden chain to be your complimentary attire. You also added a white, sheer shawl to drape around your shoulders and tangled with your arms.

You were in the middle of doing your makeup to make sure you'd look unrecognizable when a few knocks on your door interrupted you. Reaching for kohl from your little makeup pouch, you exclaimed, "Come in!"

You began to stain your waterline with the kohl, seeing Cale appear from your door, dressed in a sleek black button-up with black trousers. He wore a black-based vest with golden detailing that made him look so regal. In his arms was probably his black blazer, folded neatly. His red hair has turned brown, tied with a golden ribbon.

You quickly finished your makeup before dusting your dress and turning around to face the man. When you faced him, you see Cale looking at you with a soft gaze.

"You look amazing," you complimented him with a smile, eying him up and down appreciatively. "Gold suits you."

"And you would, too," he says, handing you a black masquerade mask with golden detailing. You raised an eyebrow, noting that Cale was holding a plain black masquerade mask, silently asking why Cale was choosing to be humble tonight, to which he gave you a shrug as an answer.

You turned to the vanity, placing the mask on your face and before you could tie the ribbon behind your neck, Cale came over behind you, "Excuse me."

His fingers worked skillfully to tie the ribbon behind your head and when he was done, he caressed the point where your neck and shoulder meet gently. Shivers ran up your spine upon feeling his touch and you grasped it, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

Cale leaned down, kissing the back of your neck affectionately. "You look breathtaking."

He glanced up at both of your reflections before his other hand came up to your thigh where your dress had hiked up, caressing the pale, straight bumpy lines that were peeking out. "Are you fine being dressed like this?"

You posed a little with a melancholic grin. "Just this once. No one will know who I am."

Cale stared at you through the mirror before he pulled away. He fixed the shawl properly around you so it won't look ruffled and crushed, his hand brushing against the scars on your biceps.

"You look amazing."

"Human!"

You both turned around when Raon burst the door open, flying into the room with a pout on his face. "Human, human, are you sure I don't have to follow you and [Name]?"

'Oh, so cute—!' You thought when you heard his confused, pleading voice. You saw Ohn and Hong walking into the room, their claws clacking on top of the hardwood floors. 

"Wow, you look so beautiful, [Name]!" Hong complimented you, coming up to you and nuzzling your legs. "Thank you, Hong."

"I'm sorry you couldn't work beside us this time," you told them. "It's too risky."

"Just be careful," Ohn murmured, sitting on your vanity table to look up at Cale while Raon is perched around his shoulders.

"We'll be fine," Cale says, his other hand ruffling Ohn's head. 

"Excuse me, Young Master-nim, Miss [Name]."

You all looked up to see Ron standing by the doorway. He gave you and Cale a polite smile. "Choi Han is ready."

"Oh, we have to get moving," you told them, moving to grab for your purse.

"Human, are you sure you can handle this?" Asked Raon anxiously, pouting.

You stood next to Ron, watching Cale talk to the kids to ease their anxiety about leaving Cale — most likely because he had been down in the dumps lately (you being the reason why) and they worry over him doing something dumb or borderline suicidal. 

"I assume everything went well?"

You smiled at Ron's question. Of course, he'd want to know. "Yes. We both agreed to talk about it after things have settled down."

Ron let out a derisive chuckle. "Knowing what type of world we live in, I doubt that day will come soon."

"Mhm."

"Then?" Ron continued, now finally glancing at you. "Will you stay despite knowing that?"

He was asking whether or not you were still intending to leave to seek whatever it is that you wanted. Would you still leave even though you knew Cale returned your feelings? 

You wished you could spit at the old man that he was purposefully making you feel selfish, but in a way, you are, aren't you? You were reminded of the voice that has been giving you headaches a few weeks ago, your head being so oddly quiet that you wanted to scream.

Despite the headaches, the voice was leading you to take your first step to get more clarity. They had given you a few days to choose whether you wanted to leave this all to pursue the answer of your existence here. 

You turned to look at Ron with a sad smile. "No."

Ron's expressionless face cracked and you were stunned to be able to witness the way his eyebrows twitched in disappointment and eyes glazed with a melancholy look. He turned to look at you and while you never once had a father to care enough about you to be disappointed, you think about how bitter it must be because Ron's look was enough to crush your heart.

"I'm sorry," you murmured. Ron didn't say anything in response, turning to look at Cale instead when he came over with the kids.

Cale nodded at you and Ron. "Let's go."

Walking towards the parlor, you repeated some of the things you had agreed with Cale. His name was Robert Miles, a rich merchant that's traveling between the continents. You kept your name, [Name], posing as his escort for the night.

"Count Theo has several proposals, some accepted, some rejected by yours truly," you reminded him even though it wasn't necessary when you were nearing the parlor. "Road repairs, destroying functional bridges to make a better one, rebuilding a couple of administrative buildings, and many more."

"Cale-nim! [Name]!" Choi Han greeted you when Ron opened the door for you.

You saw that he was facing a mana communication device and it was on top of the table. Ron shut the door behind you all while you neared Choi Han, seeing Alver's face on the device.

He looked surprised when you came into the screen, perhaps barely able to recognize you. He smiled when he finally processed your appearance. "You look great, Miss [Name]." 

"All thanks to you, Your Highness," you say, bowing your head a bit. "The designer you recommended me was amazing."

"I'm glad you went with the dress of my choice," Alver said.

Cale did a double-take. "Wait, what?"

"Now let me update you all—" Alver wastes no time to change the topic. "We spotted Baron Davis coming into the gambling house accompanied by escorts and Count Theo is already in there as well."

Baron Davis was the owner of the gambling house Count Theo frequents. He had connections with drug rings and a little bit on human trafficking, where some of the women he bought were allegedly used for his pleasures.

"Any chance they'll both be sitting at the same table tonight?" You asked. It'll be a bit of trouble if you're going to be distracting Baron Davis when Count Theo is near.

"Count Theo had been glancing towards Baron Davis ever since the man came in," Alver answered, massaging the bridge of his nose. 

"Damn," you murmured. You'll have to go all out and make sure Count Theo doesn't recognize you at all.

"I suggest teleporting there as quick as you can," Alver said, eyes glancing at Cale for a second before he looked back to you. "And, Miss [Name], again, you look wonderful."

You rolled your eyes seeing that the man was purposefully doing that to get some kind of reaction from Cale, though you doubted anything could get through the man. Alver gave you a gleeful smile before shutting off the call.

"Alright, let's go there before the night gets later," you turned to the rest, fixing your shawl.

Cale nodded towards the Black Dragon, wearing his plain black mask. "Raon, please." 

"Leave this to me!" Raon acknowledged enthusiastically.

When you all appear in an alleyway not far from the gambling house, Choi Han and the kittens merged into the shadows to watch from afar and collect any documents they could use to incriminate Baron Davis.

"Human, I want to go with you!" Raon pleaded, looking at Cale with his big eyes.

"I guess—" Cale had just begun to speak when you grabbed his arm. 

"Cale—!" You hissed under your breath. "You cannot be serious. That gambling house is full of cigarette smoke, drugs, and god knows what kind of pornographic scene we'd stumble upon inside. You want to let a child see all of that?"

Cale shut his mouth close and you let him go, opting to hug Raon instead. "I'm sorry, baby, but you can't go inside. You'd have to be older to get in."

"But I'm the mighty Raon Miru," Raon whined, surprising Cale because Raon rarely had to whine to get what he wanted.

"Well, in that case, the mighty Rain Miru could watch the area for me and Cale, right?" You cooed, holding Raon by his jaw and directing him to look into your eyes. You gave him a sweet smile with your dark red lips, "Hm? You can do it, right? Make us proud?"

It was endearing to see you bargaining with a child. Raon pouted before finally giving in, going limp into your arms as he mourned over not being able to work beside you all.

"Alright, go to your brother and sister and watch us from afar, okay? And listen to Choi Han well."

Cale watched Raon leave you both with arms crossed in front of his chest. You turned to him, slipping your arm into the crook of his elbow, and began walking together, "The night hasn't even started but I'm already tired."

"You're good with kids," Cale commented off-handedly, both of your eyes trained on the entrance to the gambling house. 

"I try my best with them," you replied, walking closer to the entrance and seeing a tall, bulky man guarding the door. "I don't recall any security measures when entering the place."

"Evening, Sir," the man greeted you and Cale. "Your name?"

"Robert," Cale answered, taking out a few gold coins and giving them to the man. "Robert Miles."

Receiving the coins with both hands, the man scrambled to let you both in and bowed his head low as you walk passed him. You noted how he doesn't even ask you for your name, which means you must've looked like an actual escort. 'Good for me, I guess.'

Upon entering the building, your senses were overwhelmed by the colorful dresses and masks, the stench of tobacco, and something herbal in the air. Your best guess for the last one would probably be drugs. There were more women compared to men in the building, some of them crowding a noble or two, some sitting together, and you can see someone pining for a woman and making out with them on the dark corners.

"Vulgar," Cale said, eying the booths where a man was seated with a woman on his lap, swapping spit and grinding against each other. "Thank goodness Raon isn't here to see this."

'This place is like an orgy party,' commented the Fire of Destruction. 

'It's gross,' murmured the thief with disgust. 

'Smells horrible,' added the priestess.

"Look for our man," you reminded him. "Let's look around together."

A waiter with a tray of drinks passed you both and Cale easily snatched a glass, drinking the liquor with an appreciative hum. "Don't drink anything while you're here. They got some pretty strong stuff."

"Hmm, I know," you murmured, hugging his arm closer to your chest, and Cale's face reddens. "We'll look suspicious if we don't mingle with the others."

"Before that—" Cale began. "The dress. Was it... Hyung-nim's choice?"

You turned to look at him with wide eyes. "Please don't tell me his words managed to get under your skin."

"It didn't," he says. "But, again, why did you give him the privilege to choose your dress?"

'Are you upset she didn't ask you?' asked the Super Rock with a tone that Cale knew had he had a face, it would be smiling.

"Are you upset I didn't ask you?" You voiced out the Super Rock's question to the world. "I just think he'd know what kind of dress would be the most outrageous, considering he's more on the reserved side."

"Am I not reserved?" Cale asked with a frown, not because he was upset, but because he was confused. 

"You've seen me with nothing but a bathrobe on and you didn't flinch," you reminded him of the incident in Ubarr territory, causing his cheeks to redden upon the memory. "You've seen more of a woman's skin compared to him. Besides, your standards of modesty are perhaps a bit skewed compared to his."

"Hello, hello..."

You both turned to the new voice that had greeted you. You were stunned when you were met with a middle-aged man with navy blue hair with strands of white hair slicked back, showing off his ruggedly handsome face that was accompanied by light wrinkles and crow's feet on the corner of his eyes.

On his sides were two women, looking slightly older than you were as they hang onto his arms. 

"Good evening, Baron Davis," Cale greeted him first, bowing his head down, which you followed mutely.

"Oh? You know who I am?" Asked Baron Davis with a grin.

"It would be unbecoming of me to enter a party without knowing who's the host," Cale replied.

In an almost comedic timing, a waiter passed by and Cale placed his glass on top of the tray they were walking around holding. He held out his hand and Baron Davis took it, firmly shaking each other hand.

"Robert Miles," Cale introduced himself.

"Simon Davis," Baron Davis says slowly, eyes raking all over your body as if Cale wasn't standing in front of him. "What do you do for a living, Mr. Miles?"

"I'm a merchant," Cale answered, going through the background Alver have prepared for them because if he was going to pay attention to Baron David practically leering at you like a piece of meat, he might as well fuck up this whole plan and beat the shit out of the guy. "Born in the Roan Kingdom but my parents themselves are merchants so I could never stay in one place for far too long."

"Oh, the life of a nomad, eh? How wonderful," Baron Davis says. "And may I ask what about the lady beside you? What is her name?"

You bowed your head humbly, feeling Cale's arms tense the whole time you were holding him. You can feel the glare of the women beside him, most likely not wanting to have the man looking around for other women when they haven't sucked him dry yet. "My name is [Name], Sir Davis."

Baron Davis raised an eyebrow. "No last name?"

"I am a commoner, Sir Davis," you answered. 

"You were wearing such an... elegant dress, I thought you were a part of the nobility." Baron Davis's attempt to flirt did not go over your head.

You let out a giggle and placed a hand on Cale's chest, leaning into him with a pout, ignoring the frantic drum of his heartbeat underneath your palm. "It's all thanks to Mr. Miles right here, Sir. He bought me everything I'm wearing today. Isn't he so kind?"

Baron Davis hummed. "What kind of merchant are you, Mr. Miles? Anything specific that you sell?"

"I focus on textile tradings," Cale answered automatically. 

"I see..." Baron Davis kept his eyes on you, a sickening grin on his face as he enjoyed the view. "Well, I have a booth that I use to sit down and talk with anyone I find interesting. Mr. Miles, would you do the honor of being that person tonight, along with Miss [Name], of course?"

Cale had a feeling Baron Davis was only after you tonight but hey, at least the plan was working, right? 

"It would be such a privilege to share a conversation with you, Baron," Cale said smoothly.

'Human, is everything alright?' Raon's anxious voice appeared in his head just as they were heading to a booth together.

'Everything is fine,' Cale replied. 'How is everything on that side?'

'Choi Han and a couple of other people are looking over papers in an office but we haven't found anything yet,' Raon explained, voice sounding so disappointed that he couldn't tell Cale any good news.

'It's okay, try to look behind bookshelves or under the floorboards,' Cale reassured the dragon. 'Keep us updated.'

"They've got into his office but they haven't found anything incriminating yet," Cale whispered to you while Baron Davis and his women were sliding into the booth.

"Oh, it's so soft," you say gleefully when you sat down on the plush seats of the booth, keeping up an act of an innocent girl.

"You think so, Miss [Name]? My bed is softer than these seats," Baron Davis suggested with a grin that Cale wanted to rip off. "Maybe I should show you later tonight."

You tried your best not to gag. "Oh, I would love to but..."

You snuggled to Cale, hand on his chest as it slowly trailed down to hold his clenched fist. "I promised Mr. Miles I'd warm up his bed tonight."

"I envy you, Robert," Baron Davis muttered, leaning back into his seat. "Tell me, what part of Miss [Name] do you like the most?"

Cale didn't have the chance to even think of an answer when Baron Davis continued to speak of you in the most perverse way Cale has ever heard; "Is it her tits? Does she sucks you off good?"

You were thankful for the dim lighting near the booth area because your face is flared red and your eyes had grown glossy. Never in your life have you ever heard someone talk about you so degradingly. It made your stomach drop and makes you feel nauseous.

"Are you the type to stuff her cunt full?"

You wanted to fucking cry.

You didn't expect Baron Davis to be someone so fucking disgusting to the point he could talk about this so openly and without any shame. You expected a little bit of decorum! Were your expectations set too high?

You held onto Cale's clenched fist, noting that it was shaking out of pure anger. 

'What the fuck,' the thief cussed. 'Is this guy fucking sick in the head?'

'How dare he—!' the Super Rock was at a loss for words upon hearing such disgusting remarks.

'Burn him! Burn him alive! What a fucking sicko!' shouted the Fire of Destruction with rage. 

Before Cale was successfully persuaded by the crazy bastard's suggestion to burn this whole establishment down, a figure appeared beside their booth.

"Simon!"

You tensed, hearing the familiar grating voice enter your ears. You turned, seeing Count Theo — you would recognize the slimy bastard even if he's wearing a mask — standing while holding a gorgeous mahogany box with an iron latch.

"Theo!" Baron Davis greeted enthusiastically. "Come, sit down, friend! How have you been? How's the Palace treating you?"

Because Baron Davis was already sitting with two women, Count Theo opted to sit next to you, placing the box on the table. You tensed a bit, shuffling closer to Cale until one of your legs was hanging onto his thigh.

Count Theo sighed. "It's been hell with that bitch [Name] around." 

You saw Baron Davis glancing at you for a second and immediately reacted. "Oh my, I don't work at the Palace, though?"

"Huh?" Count Theo looked at you with a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, pardon me, Sir," you bowed your head a bit. "My name is [Name]. I had thought you were talking about me."

Count Theo's eyes drank the image of you and stopped only when Cale's arm appear to pull you by your waist. He glanced at Cale for a moment and when he saw brown-reddish eyes already glaring darkly at him, he stand down and looked back at you instead, "Where do you work, Miss [Name]?" 

You tried your best to mimic Marilyn Monroe's iconic tone. "Well, Mr. Miles said I just need to look pretty and warm his bed. I would never work in the Palace when Mr. Miles treats me so kindly."

Count Theo's eyes glanced at the arm around your hips. "Mr. Miles...?"

"Theo, this is Mr. Robert Miles and his company tonight, Miss [Name]," said Baron Davis, gesturing to Cale. "Mr. Robert Miles, this is Theo, a good friend of mine."

"Mhmm, nice to meet you, Mr. Miles," Count Theo said before looking back at you and grinning. "Mhm, yes, you're not the [Name] I was talking about. She doesn't have tits and legs as great as yours, and she certainly wouldn't be dressed like you. The bitch's a fucking prude."

He raised his hand, the back of his hand caressing your arm and pausing when he came across your scars. "Oh, what's this? What a shame to see scars on such a beautiful body. They ruin you."

"Scars?" Questioned Baron Davis.

"Hmm, I've heard from my colleagues that that bitch [Name] always wore long sleeves probably because she has a lot of scars like this, something about being sad—" Count Theo snorted. "What a waste of fucking time. If she wanted to die, she should have just ended her life instead of seeking attention like that."

You felt your throat throb uncomfortably as you forced yourself not to cry, chest going tight as you mull over the decision of wearing such a dress. God fucking dammit, you get that it looks a bit horrid, but must such hurtful words be said?

"May I ask what's in the box?" Cale asked, pulling you closer to him and rubbing your waist with his thumb to calm you down.

You leaned to his neck, burying your face there to calm yourself down — feeling his warmth, breathing in and out with him, his scent calming the hurricane in your head, and using him as a place to lean on. You placed a hand on his neck and placed an appreciative kiss there. 

"Thank you," you murmured against his skin, as quietly as you can. You can feel his heart pounding and smile at the effect you had on him.

"I am glad you asked, Mr. Miles," said Count Theo, opening the iron latch of the box and showing a few herbs rolled into a sheer, thin white paper.

'Shit,' Cale thought. 

"Oh, my friend, you're a godsend!" Baron Davis reached and grabbed for one and Count Theo grabbed for his own.

"Mr. Miles, you must have one for yourself," Baron Davis said, having one of the women light up the end of the blunt for him. He inhaled with the blunt still in-between his lips, the end of it lighting up slightly before dimming and then he inhaled the smoke, some of it coming out of his nostrils.

You peeked at the box and many thoughts ran through your mind. Was Cale familiar with drugs? Had he ever done it back in the day? Does he get high easily? Can he even get high?

'Fuck, I didn't expect this,' you thought. You tried weed once or twice in college and thankfully you didn't get addicted to it — actually, you smoked more cigarettes back in college than weed.

Cale was the most rational between the two of you so he must not be in any situation where his consciousness and rationality be compromised.

Mustering the most innocent and cute voice you have, you asked; "Can I have one?"

Cale glanced at you, most likely confused. You whisper to him, "Just follow my lead."

"Of course, you can, sweetheart," Count Theo said, pushing the box towards you. "Mr. Miles, look at how Miss [Name] is willing to try one. Won't you grab one for yourself as well?"

"It's okay," you say, reaching for one. "We'll share it like how we always do!"

Cale was flabbergasted. What? Too many variables have shown up tonight that he was slowly growing frustrated with each time he has to improvise.

He watched Count Theo light up your blunt and you held it in between your fingers. With a grin, you settled yourself to straddle his lap, your center pressed against his crotch. His arms are around your waist, pulling you close so your breasts flushed against his chest.

"Whatever you do, don't inhale the smoke," you murmur to him before taking a drag of the blunt while pulling down Cale's chin so he'd open his mouth.

You leaned close to him, open your mouth to exhale the smoke into his mouth, and then crashed your lips together. You inhaled all the smoke back right into your lungs to prevent him from inhaling too much and let him kiss you, your hand still holding the blunt. You wanted to cough but swallowed it down, causing your throat to ache and you squirmed on top of him.

Cale licked your lips before pushing his tongue in, exploring your mouth, and twirling your tongue together just like how you did it to him a few days ago. His hand came up to the small of your back, wanting you to be so impossibly close to him that you'd merge as one.

"Mhmm," you whimpered when Cale unconsciously pushed his hips up to yours, the growing bulge brushing against your damp panties. "A-ahh..."

You pulled away from the kiss, licking your lips before taking another drag of the blunt while Cale spoke to them with his cheeks and the tip of his ear flushed red, "Hm, it's nice, I suppose."

'... That's genuinely the hottest thing I've ever seen a woman do,' the thief commented.

'I know, right? She was good with it, too,' murmured the Fire of Destruction.

"What an interesting way to share," Baron Davis pointed out, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy, no doubt having a hard-on.

"Say, Miss [Name], do you think we could share as well?" Teased Count Theo, exhaling a puff of smoke from his mouth.

"Oh, no, I can't," you say, removing yourself from Cale's lap, showing off the hard-on the man was having to the world. "I can only do it with Mr. Miles."

Count Theo flicked his tongue. "You're a greedy one, aren't you, Mr. Miles?"

Cale thought about how close the two of you are and how embarrassed he was to grind up to you like earlier. "I suppose I am."

"Sir, what is it like to work in the Palace?" You asked, looking at Count Theo with big, puppy dog eyes. "Is it as fun as they say? Do you get to meet His Highness every day?"

Seeing such a beautiful woman questioning him about his line of work with so much awe, Count Theo puffed up his chest and spoke with pride; "Of course! I used to be able to converse with His Highness Alver every day, however ever since that bitch came, my plans been going down the drain."

"Hmm, is it because of that [Name] woman?" you asked, prodding further, hoping Count Theo would admit something. You mustered up the courage to touch his arm and asked, "What did she do?"

Count Theo's face flushed red. "O-oh, she's a friend of His Highness and got a job through him. The bastard put her as a supervisor for project proposals in the  office and she's been rejecting mine every time I applied one."

"Oh, proposals? What do you do with a proposal?" You asked, putting up a clueless facade hoping the bastard is into that sort of thing. Your body tensed when you feel Cale's hand on top of your thigh, his thumb brushing your skin. You took up the blunt again, taking a long drag of it before inhaling the smoke.

To be truthful, even though he wasn't used to being so intimate with someone, much less to make out with them but the mission so far had been in his favor with you being someone by his side because you have been putting your attention on him all night, but now that Count Theo has been the one to take your attention, he's slightly irked seeing you only talking to the man.

"Oh, you know, I try to make the people's lives better -- give them proper housing, this and that," bragged the Count. 

Cale raised an eyebrow. What the hell is he talking about? According to you, all of Count Theo's projects mostly caused a disturbance to the commoner's day-to-day activities so you would only accept the ones you deemed urgent enough, but Count Theo was always trying to drag through the whole thing to make it last longer than necessary. "Probably so he can yap about how busy he is to his colleagues," you have told him earlier.

Cale heard you coo, no doubt thinking about how you'd rather stick your socked foot into a washbasin full of water than do this. "How kind of you."

"Don't tell me you're the one responsible for the rebuilding of the bridge near the administrative building?" Cale piped into the conversation, an amused eyebrow raised. He wants to see what type of outrageous shit Count Theo would spew. He had no idea which bridge he himself is talking about but he did manage to remember that small detail when you were complaining about it. "It looks much better than when I last visited."

"Oh, you've seen the contractors working, huh?" Count Theo seemed proud. "See, Mr. Miles, you can see what type of changes I'm doing to the kingdom."

"Though, I must admit that you put a lot of attention on that part of town," Cale pointed out. "Any reason why? A family member living there?"

You covered your mouth and put up an expression of scandalized when Cale continued, "Or perhaps a mistress?"

Count Theo frowned, eyes narrowing suspiciously at Cale. "You're quite the curious one, aren't you, Mr. Miles?"

"No need to feel ashamed if you do," Cale pressed on, placing his arm around your shoulder. And for an added flair, his other hand reached for your chin so you would face him instead, "After all, I'm not exactly a refined man myself."

Count Theo looked at the way Cale was now looking down at you and squishing your cheek while you were whining for him to let go or he'll ruin the makeup you've done so hard on. He let out a low chuckle, "No, not a mistress. But something much more valuable."

"More valuable than a woman?" Cale questioned, making sure to have his tone as bewildered as possible. Count Theo snorted, "Mr. Miles, there are many things that are more valuable than a woman."

"I have several friends in that area, you see," Count Theo said with a grin. "They can't exactly... work being so near to the building but with my people in the area, they're having a much easier time."

"What a smart man, eh?" Baron Davis suddenly added, snickering. "He decided to risk it near the place they wouldn't be looking around in."

'Human! We found it!' Raon's voice smacked him back to reality. 'There was a space under the floor and Choi Han destroyed it! He said he found the proof we need!'

Thank Gods! Now they can run from this establishment. 

"Please have something to nibble on while you all enjoy your time here," said Baron Davis, snapping his fingers and a waiter coming over with a tray of cut-up chocolate bars. "Especially Miss [Name]."

You gulped a bit, watching Baron David and his women eating a piece each. You reached for the chocolate and ate it, trying to erase the slightly spicy, bitter aftertaste in your mouth from the blunt. Goddamit, why couldn't they just make edibles instead of rolling a horrible blunt?

You sucked on the chocolate, finding it taste a bit different than your average chocolate. It was sweet with a bit of a bitter tang to it and a spicy aftertaste. 

"[Name], they've done it," Cale whispered to your ear, his breath caressing your earlobe causing you to jolt.

"G-good," you stuttered, your whole body feeling like it was on fire. 

You leaned to Cale and when he touched your cheek to see what was wrong, you whimpered. Cale's face reddens when he heard the lewd sound and when he tried to help you sit up straighter, you mewled and nuzzled to him.

You feel uncomfortable to the point it was excruciating and the slightest touch by Cale set your whole body on fire. You feel your panties going damper than earlier and tried to look at Baron Davis through bleary vision, seeing him sitting there while making out with his woman, one of his hands squeezing her chest.

"C-Ca—!" Cale's hand came up to cover your mouth to stop you from saying his real name. His eyes widened when he realized how hot your skin was.

You grasped at his wrist weakly and gave him a pleading look. He slowly lowered his hand and leaned to you, hearing you whimper, "We... have to... out..."

Cale immediately stood up, knowing something had gone wrong. 

'Cale, it's either the drug or the chocolate, or both,' suggested the Super Rock. 'She has been drugged.'

"Theo, it was nice meeting you, but I'm afraid [Name] and I will need to go first," Cale said, excusing you both.

You leaned to him, body feeling heavier than usual. Your shawl dragged through the ground, some of it still tangled around your arm. Cale cursed inside his head and approached a waiter, "Excuse me, but is there a private room?"

He would love to go out and look for the others immediately, but your temperature was spiking up at a concerning pace and it made his heart race. The waiter had pointed out the way to Cale, looking nonchalant despite you whimpering in his arm and looking unwell. Cale concluded that many have probably drugged women and taken advantage of them here.

Cale rushed into the room the waiter had pointed out and locked it behind him. He leads you to a couch in the room and before he could lay you down, you gave up trying to stand up on your own two feet, letting yourself fall on top of him.

He let out a groan of pain, his head banging quite loudly against the couch. "[Name]?"

"C-Cale," you whispered his name, borderline moaning it. You pushed yourself to crawl up so you can be chest-to-chest, looking at the man with eyes clouded with lust.

You stared at him for a second before kissing the man senselessly, grinding yourself against his bulge and whimpering in his mouth. Cale froze on the couch, feeling you grab his hand.

"Oh, Cale—" Your voice sounds strangled. You lead his hand to your breast, forcing his hand to squeeze it. "Touch me, please."

'Aphrodisiacs! The chocolate was laced with aphrodisiacs!' screamed the gluttonous priestess in panic. 

'Cale, stop her!' Yelled the Super Rock when you began to pull down your dress by the neckline. Cale grabbed your hand and the other hand was used to fix your neckline.

"[Name], calm down—!" Cale jolted when you pressed down your center to his bulge, moving your hips. You moaned loudly as you did so, the sound so fucking erotic and sexy that Cale could feel his pants becoming too tight.

'This woman is a fucking menace when horny, holy shit,' commented the Fire of Destruction in awe.

"Can you please focus?!" Cale yelled at the ancient power, switching to hold you by your hips so you won't move. You whined and Cale switched the position so you would be the one lying down while Cale sat on your abdomen, pining your wrists above your head to lock you in place. 

You looked up at him, face flushed red, hair messy, and pupils blown with lust. You closed your eyes, letting out a whine, "C-Cale..."

'Knock her out!' The thief commanded.

'With what?!' Cale questioned. 

"Cale, please, please, please," you pleaded in hushed whispers, squirming underneath him. "Please, touch me."

Cale closed his eyes so he doesn't have to see you beneath him, pleading to be touched. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

"Cale, pleaseee," you moaned, feeling like if you don't get to be touched, you can die from the heat of your body. "Cale, I feel horrible. Please, please, touch me."

Cale kept his eyes shut but his ears were still able to hear the noises you make.

'There's no way you can last like this until the aphrodisiac's effect disappears,' says the Super Rock.

'I say let the woman cum,' said the thief. 'Give her the relief she needs and let's get it over with.'

"I'm not going to take advantage of her," Cale stated firmly, holding you down when you squirm, thrusting your hips up to get some kind of friction. He'd leave you alone if he could so you could probably deal with this yourself but he can't do that when they're in enemy's territory, one where it's crawling with men waiting for a vulnerable woman to corner.

"Cale," you whispered. "Please?"

'You know, your self-control is something else,' said the Fire of Destruction, genuinely in awe. 

'Instead of being like this, I suggest at least trying to reach the exit with her,' Super Rock said. 

Cale knew that waiting for help like this is useless and might get you both in more trouble if you were caught. He sucked in a deep breath and slowly released your wrists, prompting you to curl yourself up just as he got off of you. 

"[Name], we have to get out of here," he whispered to your ear, taking your arm and putting it across his shoulder. "We can't stay here."

He pulled you up, trying his best to ignore the way your lips brushed against his jaw so lovingly, going down to his neck and leaving a bunch of lipstick marks all over his skin. He stood up with you hanging by his shoulder, holding you by the waist and nearly limping to towards the door. Cale finds relief and disgust at the fact that everyone in this place is so fucked in the head that they don't see anything wrong with a man dragging an intoxicated woman across the establishment. Plus, it seemed everyone is either stoned or drunk to even realize he was summoning a little bit of wind to his feet to help him get across quicker.

'You're gonna leave without causing at least some degree of havoc?' taunted the thief and if Cale could see them, he's sure he would find them with a smirk and an eyebrow raised. 'That's not very Cale Henituse of you.'

'Come on, kid,' added the Fire of Destruction, 'That David guy talked about [Name] like that and you're just going to let him slide?'

'I don't agree with causing havoc but... perhaps make sure they could never do that sort of thing again,' suggested the Super Rock.

'Make them regret it,' said the priestess.

Cale exited the place with you nearly passing out, not even going to stop and question where that bulky security man had been standing by when they entered the place. Once you were both out of sight, Cale flew to the top of the smaller houses where he had seen Choi Han's silhouette.

"Cale-nim! [Name]!" Choi Han called, eyes wide when Cale landed gently beside them with your face flushed red, sweating, and panting. Choi Han takes you from Cale's hold, carrying you bridal-style, and was immediately stunned to feel your how hot your skin was. "What happened to her?"

Ohn and Hong who are perched on Choi Han's shoulders looked at you with concerned gazes while Raon floated right on top of you, "Human, she looks so red! Like a tomato! Is she going to be okay? She's not going to die, is she?"

"She's going to be fine if we go back to Ron to have her looked at," said Cale, taking off his mask and throwing it away before he took off his blazer as well and draping it on top of you. "She had been drugged, most likely aphrodisiacs. She had previously been smoking a drug, too, so I'm hoping at least maybe Ron would know the after effects."

"Raon-nim, please transport us quickly to Ron," Choi Han said to the Black Dragon.

Cale sees your head lolled to the side before they are teleported into the duchy, specifically into your room. Choi Han quickly placed you on your bed, turning to look at Cale when the man got to the side of your bed, sitting by your bedside. Cale looked anxious as he turned to give Choi Han a command, "Choi Han, go look for Ron."

"Yes, Cale-nim." Choi Han turned around and left while Raon showed himself to Cale. 

"What about me, human? What should I do?" asked the child anxiously, restless as he threw glances at you.

Cale held the dragon close so he keeps his eyes on Cale and not you. "[Name] would want you to not stress about this. She's okay, she's just a bit out of it, okay?"

Raon looked down, nuzzling to your side with the kittens. You huffed, feeling your whole body being set on fire but having some sense in you to not push the kids away. You fluttered your eyes open, glancing at Cale's anxious gaze. "W-what's happening?"

"You were drugged with aphrodisiacs in the chocolate," Cale answered. "After smoking that drug, I just need to be sure there's no after-effect for you."

You remembered smoking that blunt and let out an anxious laugh. "S-sorry..."

"It's alright," Cale reassured you. "You saved our disguise."

Your bedroom door swung open by an anxious Choi Han, Ron following closely behind. He approached you on the bed, looking over your complexion quickly before checking your temperature and pulse. He took off your mask to get a proper look at your full-blown pupil and let out a sigh, "The aphrodisiac she consumed are quite strong for her stature and body weight. Choi Han mentioned about drug usage before the aphrodisiac entered her system?"

"We were forced to smoke some kind of drug but [Name] managed to get me out of that situation," Cale explained. He refused to explain how you managed to do that since it'll be too much for both him and you for everyone to know.

"It probably intensified the effects of the aphrodisiac and make it last longer," Ron explained. "Since we don't really have an antidote for such things, the only way is to have her sleep this one out until the effects disappear. I'll have to knock her out."

Cale paled. "O-okay."

"She will be safe in my care, Young Master-nim," Ron reassured him with a benign smile. "Now please leave us alone."

The kittens jumped to Cale's arms and everyone had to anxiously leave you to Ron, but before Cale could leave, Ron stopped him. The butler gave Cale a slightly playful gaze. "Perhaps clean up a bit before you meet anyone else, hm, Young Master-nim?"

Cale stared at Ron for a minute before nodding slowly, leaving your room and heading towards his.

Ron turned to look back at you and let out a tired sigh. 'Oh, what should I do with you, Miss [Name]?'

Meanwhile, Cale was busy ignoring the surprised and flustered gazes of the servants when he walked by them. However, when he managed to meet his stepmother in the hallway, he knew something was wrong when he saw his mother's slightly scandalized look.

"Oh, uh, Cale," she greeted him, looking him up and down. "Where have you been? You're... dressed up nicely."

Cale didn't even try to think much of a lie. "[Name] and I went to dinner."

Violan covered her face with her fan, eyes scanning over Cale's face. "I-I see that [Name] have forgiven you for what you've done."

"Fortunately, yes."

Violan looked away from Cale and hurried to leave. "Well then, have a good night, Cale."

Cale nodded. "You as well, Mother."

He finally arrived to his room, letting the kids invade his bed first as he took off his vest. He approached the vanity and eyes widened in shock when he saw lipstick marks all over his lips, jaw, and neck. Is this how he had been walking around this whole time?

"I'm an idiot," he murmured to himself, rubbing his temple in exasperation. 

#cale henituse x reader #cale henituse #trash of the count's family #lout of count's family #tcf cale #tcf choi han #tcf alberu #raon miru

[noellawrites]

Missing Persons - Yandere!Gustavo Fring x fem!reader

requested by: @ourjovialpoetrystudent & @paigerzz

summary: after being kidnapped by Gus, you see some disturbing news on television.

warnings: kidnapping, pregnancy/baby trapping, manipulation

You woke up with no recollection of what happened to you. Your head throbbed with a pain worse than a headache, worse than dehydration. You were currently on a cushy bed, hands and feet zip-tied, and a bandana shoved in your mouth.

“Ah, you are finally awake. Welcome home.”

“Gus? Where the hell am I and where the hell are Walt and Jesse?” you seethed after he pulled the bandana from your mouth.

“They’re fine. Making more product. You being here ensures their safety. It’s a win-win for everyone involved,” Gus reassured in his ever-stoic tone.

“And how am I winning, exactly?” you inquired, attempting to wiggle your arms out of the zip tie.

“You are living here, with me. In time, I will release you from your bounds. Trust me, things are better this way.”

You sighed, thinking about how you much you missed both your real family and your makeshift family. You, Walter and Jesse were an odd group, but you enjoyed every minute of working with them. You also really, really enjoyed the money. As a formerly broke college student, your old chemistry teacher calling you up for help manufacturing meth with your old burnout high school friend was a blessing in disguise.

You knew the risks of the business, and even though you were raking in stacks, you still attended college and worked your old low-paying job to avoid suspicion. It also meant that you were worked to the bone pretty much every day.

“Will I ever see anyone I love again?” you finally asked, after thinking about how the hell you’d ended up here.

“You will learn to love me,” Gus stated simply, avoiding your gaze and exiting the room.

—

It had been seven months since you’d been kidnapped and six since Gus had freed you from the zip ties, rope knots and metal cuffs completely.

Soft jazz music drifted from the kitchen to where you sat on the living room couch as Gus cooked dinner. You softly smiled, looking down at your slight baby bump. The nurse who visited weekly (and got paid heftily to look the other way) said you were about ten weeks in.

You grasped around for the television remote, tired of reading as much as you did. Gus still didn’t allow you to use a phone or computer, but you had been given TV privileges after Gus found out you were pregnant.

Some dumb game show was on when the TV came on, so you switched around channels until you hit channel 13. KRQE, the Albuquerque local news.

“Recent developments in the disappearance of UNM student (y/n) (y/l/n) points to foul play. Albuquerque police chief Ray Schultz stated that ‘evidence found at the scene has failed to provide us with any substantial leads, but we will not give up the search for Miss (y/l/n).’ You all remember the story: in February of this year, (y/n) (y/l/n) was reported missing from her dormitory. So far, no suspects have been named and few clues remain. We take you now to a special announcement from Los Pollos Hermanos Owner and Co-Founder, Gustavo Fring—“

Your blood ran cold. The news station had talked to Gus about your disappearance? And they still hadn’t found you? The only legitimate connection between the two of you is when you were awarded the scholarship Gus had founded at your school in his former associate’s name. You listened on.

“—last year, I awarded the Max Arciniega Memorial Scholarship to Miss (y/l/n). She was no doubt one of this city’s brightest young minds, and I am disappointed to hear there have not been any new leads. This is why I am gifting a donation of fifty thousand dollars to the Albuquerque Missing Persons Fund in hopes that more developments can be made in both (y/n)’s case and the cases of hundreds more like her.’”

You quickly snapped the television off, focusing on the sound of your breathing.

“Do you want green beans or carrots with the soup?” Gus asked from the kitchen.

You responded in an almost tearful voice. It was the combination of the news and your hormones, definitely.

“(y/n), is everything okay?” Gus asked, rounding the corner and sitting next to you on the couch.

“NO! Everything is not okay! You donated money to the people trying to find me! Who does that? I miss my family, my real family, and Walt and Jesse,” you cried, causing Gus to wrap his arms around you. You angrily shook him off.

“So me and this baby—“ he began, laying his hand gently on your stomach, “—are not your real family?”

“I-I guess so, but—“

“You guess so? Or do you mean it? Because you know what I am capable of doing to your former co-workers. Your family. Anyone you love,” he stated in his even-toned voice.

Suddenly, you realized you had never been as safe as you thought you were. Gus had lulled you into a false sense of security, even copulated with you to produce your child. You missed everything you had from your old life, and Gus had only tricked you into believing a child could fill that void.

#gus fring x reader #gus fring imagine #better call saul x reader #better call saul imagine #breaking bad x reader #breaking bad imagine #yandere gus fring #yandere breaking bad

[ronearoundblindly]

Eighty-Third Time's the Charm (4)

CEO!Steve Rogers x assistant!Reader ~WC 2.9k

Dance (see previous or series)

Summary: How smooth of a talker is your boss? And what could happen if he weren't your boss anymore?

Warning for alcohol consumption and some really awful, creepy behavior from a business connection of Steve's. 😒😒😒 Toxic men are the worst.

This is bad. You’re staring and silent and it’s getting awkward…or it should be getting awkward if Steve—Jesus, get it together—if Mr. Rogers, your boss, lest you forget, weren’t also staring right back at you.

The moody lighting of the room splashes green across his ocean irises. It’s mesmerizing as they accent the soft medium blue of his jacket.

The jacket which your hand is petting.

“Sorry,” you gush and step back out of what is surely his very personal, private space, “very soft.”

Some other random guest touches your back to squeeze past you, but since your back is essentially naked, it startles you to press forward. Steve catches you in both arms, cold whiskey glass touching your bare arm. An actual shiver rakes through your spine.

“Yes, I—“ he inventories every minute physical reaction you’re having “—I have a tactile obsession.” He releases you when steady. “So my ma says. I like soft things.”

Your gut clenches at his dropping tone, and the clenching drops deeper. Your thighs press together while you adjust your stance.

“Let’s get you out of the doorway,” Steve soothes, offering his arm.

You smile at the floor while your hand slides over not just the muted, brushed fabric but the hard muscle of his bicep beneath it. How can you be expected to not give it a squeeze? That would be ridiculous. Wow. His arm is thick and meaty, and you should not be thinking about the effort it takes to maintain that…but you are.

“So Boss, seems you and Topaz survived well without me…”

Your feet move aimlessly in whatever direction he’s leading you, and you fully expect to lift your head and greet Tony. Instead, you sidle up to a stretch of the bar without other patrons.

“Drink?”

“Just a club soda for now,” you say quickly, shaking your head, tickled again by your earrings. “Probably still a little dehydrated after the flights.”

“Ah, right—“ Steve flags the bartender and gives the order for his refill and your water “—how are your parents? You had a good time? Flights were ok? When do you want to see them next? Do you have siblings?”

You’ve gotten to give only one-word answers during his sudden interrogation. Fine. Very. Yes. Don’t know. What? “Did your mother tell you to get to know your employees or something? What’s with the twenty questions? Sir, why aren’t you answering me about work?”

“It’s a party. Why can’t we talk about not-work?” Steve’s boyish in his whining.

“Because every event like this one for the past several years has been about networking for you and Mr. Stark. What’s cha—“

“Have you thought any more on it?” Steve scoots the water on the marble countertop closer for you, leaning in with that soft jacket and soft gaze. “The new position?”

Involuntarily, you gulp and then reach for your glass.

“That sounded more scandalous than intended—” Steve blushes “—but you know what I meant.”

“I do know, and I get that I seem overwhelmed from time to time because it is a lot of work. But I can assure you. I was perfectly happy with my job, even before you started all this.”

“Are you? You never wanted more?” He’s intense and still has his broad, touchable body right in your reach.

You take a sip and lick your lips. “You’re still doing it, Steve. Asking questions.”

“That’s the first time you’ve called me Steve without being angry at me.” He smiles, though it’s not smug.

Well, touché, since that wasn’t a question. “Not angry,” you mutter, running a finger up and down the side of your glass, “just disappointed.” A classic dodge to put him in his place.

You can feel the heat of his blush before you even look back up.

“I keep asking because we’d be equals. We are now, but your title doesn’t reflect that. I’d like it official—“ he tilts his head and lowers his already sultry voice “—on paper.”

Blood is not rushing to your face this time.

You have to chug some water to swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t think I follow, sir.”

Steve sucks in a breath and clicks his tongue, staring down at the melting ice in his brown liquor. “And we’re back to sir,” he chides. “Ya know, you could probably be my boss.”

“Co-boss,” you correct with a smirk, still drinking.

“Doesn’t sound as good.”

“Sounds better than unemployed to me.” At this rate, you’re going to be sipping at an empty glass or the ice will crash down across your face. Maybe you could use the impromptu cold shower.

He snaps innocent blue eyes back to you. “That’s not an option…”

“Then what?” You basically whisper as the song ends and your glass makes a loud thunk on a thin paper napkin. Because it’s just you and him on an empty, private island, alone. Just for a split second.

Steve looks away first, eyeing guests clapping for the big band, and he swigs the last of his drink.

“Care to dance?”

He doubles down by offering his hand as your lead.

You can blame the clamminess of your fingers on the sweating, chilled cup if necessary, but Steve doesn’t mention it. His skin feels warm against yours.

It’s instrumentals only, but the song sounds familiar. Steve watches as you think through the notes trying to figure out how you know it.

He smirks, waiting. You expect him to look away when you meet his gaze head-on, but he gently smiles, shifting focus only so far as your other eye, your earrings, your mouth. He’s…quite something to look at, too.

“I swear I do remember this,” you finally say in frustration. It’s also giving you something else to focus on rather than the feel of his hand on the bare skin at the small of your back. You were right; the dress makes you feel a bit naked. You look around to see Tony and Pepper dancing, no doubt sassing each other, but Pep looks happy. Her dress is blue but just as low and draped in the back. For the record, you notice, Tony’s hand is on Pep’s clothed hip, nothing more.

“It had to be you,” Steve finally says, bringing you back, heightening your awareness of how close he’s tucked you to him, nearly chest to chest. “Wonderful you.”

Thank god for the sticky petals over your nipples or you’d be putting on a real show in addition to the band.

“What,” you breathe.

“It had to be you,” he repeats, blue eyes locked on yours, “the song. Frank Sinatra, well, if there were vocals.”

You can only nod. You hardly understand that words form language right now. He’s so very close and warm. He’s physically surrounding you. Where his body isn’t, his attention is, and the scent of whisky lingers in between.

Softly, softer than any man has a right to say without running the gamut of feelings, Steve blurts, “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”

It’s a statement absent of conscious thought; he’s just let it slip out while his hot hand leaves your back to brush one of your earrings over your collarbone and out of the way. He touches an errant strand of your hair. He’s lost for a second, but then the song stops and the room claps again.

Your brain returns to your body.

“Probably because I am your eyes, ears, and your right hand, sir.”

Steve blushes furiously again, dropping his hand and looking away, scanning the bar area, surveying the room. Anything to not reply. He finally clears his throat.

Oh. Oh. Did you just infer that…oh god. NO.

Before you can correct your phrasing, Topaz appears beside Steve and mutters that someone he wants to see has arrived. He’s instantly professional again, like a soldier prepped for battle. There’s a brief instant when he pulls at his jacket and locks onto you as if asking ‘how do I look? Am I ready?’

You give him a handsome smile, and Steve beams back. He takes your approval and steps away, Topaz following.

You’re left to contemplate your dry throat and whether the condition stems from real dehydration or whatever that was with—

“If it isn’t the most coveted helper in town,” a man enthusiastically cries, leaning into your view from god-knows-where.

Patrick Sauter Jr.—the boy king of his father’s legacy company, the lush and loon himself—plants himself in front of you with what he’s sure to think is a dominant and manly stance, customary four fingers of liquor in his glass, sloshing about.

“’S’it true you’re a free agent now? I’d be happy to snap you up as my own—“ his eyes drag too far down your body for too long “—if Rogers is done with you.”

He’s an utterly foul man.

“Mr. Sauter,” you try to start.

“Ricky,” he interrupts, “please, call me Ricky, at least until we’re in the office if you know what I mean. Ya know, there’re a lot of perks to being so close to the big man. I’m as dedicated to my employees as they are to me.”

His hand raises as if to play with your earring, too, but he gets distracted and takes a gulp instead. He jumps back in as if someone asked him to.

“Spend plenty of time with my girls. Late nights are unfortunately required sometimes, but that’s the cost of doing business. It’s hard work, but I bet you can manage it.”

You’re about a half-second from vomiting directly in his face when Topaz magically appears again.

“Boss,” she all but shouts, deliberately waiting for Sauter’s confused look, “Mr. Rogers has requested your help with a pitch. I believe you know the fig’res best.” She nods to follow.

“Sorry, Ricky. You’re barking up the wrong tree. In fact, you were speaking to a CEO of American Capsule.” You gather up a handful of skirt to turn away. “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure we revisit your contract as soon as possible.”

The man really tries to grab at your wrist and keep you there. “Hold up.”

Ricky stumbles before the blood completely drains from his face, eyes off to the side.

“Ah,” the rumble of Steve’s voice sounds from just behind you, “told Mr. Sauter the good news?”

“Yes, though I understand it can be frustrating filling a position no one wants.” You can’t help it. Your words are cold and cutting, and that piece of shit needs to leave.

Steve fakes surprise. “Oh, no, Junior. Another secretary?”

“Executive assistant,” Ricky grumbles before draining his whole glass.

Steve wonders aloud. “Do you need too much assistance you think?”

And you piggyback. “Perhaps they should only have to do your typing for you?”

Sauter can’t take the jabs. He excuses himself roughly and nearly jogs back to the bar.

Thirsty and flustered, you feel gross after the exchange and start wringing your hands to shake off the ick.

“Alright?” Steve lets his eyes flicker over you but doesn’t stare. Instead, he sweeps two glasses of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter.

You take one and gulp half of the flute down, clinking the rim to Steve’s glass with a look that says ‘I hated everything about that conversation.’ Then the second half is gone and you look around for another waiter.

Steve offers the other glass. “They’re both for you, precious. I’m not mixing.” His smirk catches both corners of his lips, but his head drops. “Too old for that,” he mutters.

You’re not sure if he meant the alcohol or the pet name, or if you’re too old for it or he’s too old to say it. The butterflies doing a Broadway show in your gut don’t care what the answer is.

Steve gestures in the same direction as Topaz pointed. “Could I—could we talk somewhere quiet?”

You’re done with both champagnes by the time you’ve found an alcove deeper in the building. Everyone gathers by the windows or the balconies since it’s a beautiful clear night with a great view of New York. Most of the nerves from Sauter’s horrible play at you have dissipated, but less than an hour of this gala has sent you on a rollercoaster ride to last for days. Running a multi-million dollar company looks like a cakewalk comparatively.

“So I take it that’s a yes on the raise?” Steve sets the glasses down on a small table and buries his hands in his pockets. “Though I guess you’d have said anything to shut that guy—“

“Why are you pushing this?”

The question just falls out. You’re almost positive you know what the answer is, but it’s been three years.

He swivel-walks back into your proximity. This is the shyest you’ve ever seen Steve Rogers. “I want to be equals.”

“You said that.”

Steve stares at his shifting toe on the carpet. “Because…it’s because I can’t very well date a subordinate.” He leans in, less than a foot from you now. “And because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He’s not making eye contact and using his business voice to carry him through, but then it drops lower. Breathy. Intimate.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

He could not fucking possibly. You’re stunned at his choice of words. Dumbfounded. Not silenced. “Mr. Rogers—“

“Steve, please.”

“—not until the paperwork is signed, thank you. Anyone ever tell you to perhaps not profess your love for someone before a first date?”

Steve lifts wide, gorgeous blue eyes to yours. “It’s…been vaguely advised over the years.”

He’s adorable, and he knows it. He’s somehow inching ever nearer just by breathing heavier, the whirl of whisky returning.

You shake your head. “What would your ma say?”

“Well, with any luck she’ll never repeat the phrase ‘wet your dick’ ever again.” Rightfully, Steve stops advancing on that one.

“Oh, I did say that, didn’t I?” Your arm reaches out, capping the distance with a hand against his chest, fingers tucked beneath a velvety lapel.

He’s dapper and lovely, infuriating and obsessed with work, but he…wants you. It’s clearly written all over his face. This sorta thing is why he can’t play poker with Stark. Steve’s obvious, and—what did he say earlier?—how have you never seen it before?

“I am sorry for that.”

“She’s heard worse,” he chuckles, laying a hand over yours. “Does produce quite the visual though.”

“Sir,” you warn, and he rolls his eyes, acquiescing to quit teasing. His thumb grazes over your knuckles a few times. He seems perfectly content to simply stand with you. You’d like that as well, just in different shoes.

Your heart restarts when his other hand cups your face, his skin feels cool now compared to your heated cheeks, and a confession drops out like releasing a burden.

“I missed you. I thought about you, too.”

He’s practically salivating looking at you, head tilted, voice huskier. Steve lets his lips make their way down to yours while whispering, “you did?”

A deafening tap tap tap of a microphone jolts you both out of the moment.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the auction is about to begin. Make your way back to the stage, and let’s have a round of applause for the band. They’ll be back after our festivities!”

You clear your throat and smooth down your unwrinkled dress, shaking off the haze of Steve in order to compose yourself. Your earrings tickle your neck again. It makes you think of how the back of his fingers felt there.

“Shall I get you a drink, sir? You’re looking a little piqued.” You’re just going to have to ignore the fact that your panties are a little piqued, too.

Steve’s stayed soft and fixated despite the interruption. “I can do that. Let me.”

“I’m sure I can manage.”

No offense, but you’d also like to dump that ice down your front while you’re at it, but his hand finds yours before you can rush off.

“Let me take care of you.”

“That’s not part of your job description.”

“It’s not. It’s my pleasure.” Might be clear skies outside, but lightning strikes the word like a grounding rod, whispered and thunderous only to you. “I’d like for us to go on a date.”

“Where would you take me?”

His eyes darken two shades at the innuendo. He’s pressed to your side like he belongs there. It feels like he does. “Anywhere,” he breathes. “Everywhere.”

You glance over your shoulder at that. “Bad boy.”

Steve’s eyes go black for a split second before he looks away and adjusts his suit jacket, finally dropping your hand. He busies himself with his cufflinks, muttering “well played” just as Topaz strides over in her golden jacket and long skirt.

“Bossman, some schmuck named Eli Pobintz is insisting on a word.”

Steve sighs his way back into battle mode and groans. “Here? And we don’t call him a schmuck.”

“I believe what Mr. Rogers means to say is he’s a prick. A little prick.”

“Excuse me, ladies.” Steve walks off wearing a smirk beneath fiery eyes.

You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him walk away.

“Great ass,” Topaz grunts and turns back to you. “So, Bosslady, you two sharing a room?”

“What?!” Your hand flies up to your chest, exposed by more than just your dress.

“Office. You gonna share his or get your own?” Your assistant’s tone is casual, flat, and all-knowing.

You’re gonna need another champagne.

[Next Part]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Y'all, why is this so fun to write????

Also, taglist whoopsy: I have no clue whether peeps from the Fools series list want to be on this one and/or all posted fic, so I'm gonna play it safe and wait until anyone asks. You'll have to DM or reply; I won't assume to ping!

@bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x you #fluff and feels #fluff and romance #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #mcu au #marvel au #ceo!steve rogers #it had to be you #series #fanfic #captain america x reader #captain america fluff #captain america x you #captain america fanfiction #captain america #steve rogers x you #assistant!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x reader fluff

[cal-a-bungaa]

Set Sail - Jake Kiszka

Title: Set Sail

Synopsis: A day trip with the Kiszka’s turns into something more for you and Jake

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Thigh riding, oral (f receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, choking, spanking/slapping, Sammy is an idiot, alcohol mentioned, gaging, scratching and swearing.

MINORS DNI 18+

ENJOY! Written with @jakekiszkasnose​

​

__________

The clinking of glasses was heard as drinks were had on the top deck. The perfect evening had presented itself. A light watercolor sunset spread over the waves, and a light breeze brushed through the small crowd of people. Your boyfriend, Jake, had invited you to go sailing with his family over a holiday weekend and you couldn’t say no. His youngest brother, Sam, had also brought along his girlfriend of the month, leaving you with a friend for the evening while Jake found anything and everything to argue about with Josh, each holding a cold beer in their hands. 

Jake had been giving you looks all evening, ones you knew all too well. Almost as if to tease him, you had worn a new bikini, bought for this occasion. Knowing that he would appreciate your exposed skin, you specifically sought out one that would surely grab his attention. It worked. He was too easy. Such a guy…

It seemed Jake was out to get a similar reaction out of you as well, with his blue jean shirt fully unbuttoned to reveal his tanned torso. The sun had done wonders for his complexion. His cheeks had become beautifully sun kissed from the harsh rays that shone down on him. You, on the other hand, were not blessed by the sun the way your boyfriend was. Your chest red as cherries, and your face blending in with the hue of the sunset. 

Your drink had long melted and Jake’s beer had since been downed and the bottle forgotten. Sam had stolen his prize of the night away from you, giving Jake the rare opportunity to approach you after having a day of little interaction between the two of you. Said man slipped behind you as you watched the waves crash into the side of the boat, pulling you into him. The gentle rocking of the boat swayed your bodies, softly rubbing you against Jake. 

His thumbs rubbing the bare skin of your waist, “I’m liking this, but I’m not liking my brothers seeing you in it.” He dips his thumb into the waistband to snap it back against your burnt skin.

“Why do you think I wore it?” you said with a sly smile. 

Jake lets out a heavy breath, “Watch it.” He pinches your hips. You turn to look back at him and send him a wink.  

A bigger wave hits the boat, rocking you into your boyfriend, pushing you lower half into his. Jake’s breathing hitches and he hides his face in the crook of your neck. His large straw hat hides the way he attacks your throat with soft kisses and runs his tongue slightly over your pulse.

“Look at you two… Gross.” Sam says under his breath, turning the both of you towards him, as he’s walking over he trips over Jake’s no longer white vans that had been discarded earlier in the day, just to spill his drink down your cleavage. You yelped as the cold liquid ran down your front and onto the deck.

Looking down at your body that was now covered in the alcoholic beverage that Sam decided to spill all over you, you noticed how Jake's eyes darkened. “Sam, I know you’re jealous that you don’t have what we have, but really?” You tell the youngest Kiszka. The look displayed on his face is beyond offended. From the corner of your eye, you see Sam's little booty call cast an annoyed look in your direction.

Josh in the background is laughing, trying to stifle the giggles that rake through him. There’s nothing the twins love more than to see their younger brother embarrassed and struggling to find words. 

“What a dumbass..” Jake groans in annoyance, also trying to calm himself from laughing 

Too peeved to say anything else, you make our way to go below deck and clean yourself up. Seeing the opportunity, Jake goes down after you.

Downstairs, you attempt to clean yourself off while Jake appears behind you once more. “You have no idea how long I've been looking for an excuse to get you alone.” Jake remarks, now taking a very shameless glance at your body. As if to tease him, you take off your bikini top and dangle it in his face. Needing to be the one in charge, Jake snatches the top from your grasp and pushes you against the wall. “Eager, are we?”

“You think you’re cheeky, don’t you?” Jake sneered in your ear, snaking a hand up to cup your chin, squishing your cheeks together. He pulls back away from you to give you a view of his darkened eyes. Jake rips his hand away from your face to bring it back down on your sunburnt breasts. The sting has you writhing in pain and pleasure all at once. You tremble under his touch, just anticipating his next move. His leg is between your knees, pressing into you. You couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath and you tried not to rock against his thigh. It felt like he had barely touched you all day and you were terribly skin starved. 

“Actually, I do. Look at you.. All needy for me because of a bathing suit, babe. You take a long glance down at his shorts, where the fabric was quickly tightening. His hands were on you in an instant, feeling all over your hot skin.

As if sensing your need, Jake shoves his hand into the front of your bikini bottoms. You sighed into his touch, letting him rub tight circles into you. Your hips thrust forward in his grasp, yearning for more of his touch. His touch disappears, leaving you stranded with need before he taps the side of your thigh and hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your stringed bottoms and pulls them down your reddened legs. 

After standing back up, Jake’s fingers tap your cheek, prompting you to open before stuffing your bikini bottoms into your open mouth. “Wouldn’t want my brothers to hear that pretty voice of yours while I’m all needy for you, now would we?” At that, Jake went back to his knees in front of you, lifting one leg over his shoulder. He licked a long stripe up you before suctioning his lips to your clit. You moaned around the fabric in your mouth as he worked up a steady pace of sucking. Soon he was pushing a finger into you, combining the two sensations. The edges of his hat scratched lightly over your lower stomach as Jake pushed his face into you further. 

With Jake on his knees in front of you, you reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. Though, the straw hat he’s currently wearing is restricting you from doing so. Sensing your irritation towards his beloved hat, he stands and removes it, placing it atop of your head. 

Kissing the inside of your thigh, he speaks softly, “There, love. Looks better on you than it ever did me.”

His words were lost on you as you focused on the sensations he was sending through your body. Before you knew it, Jake was pulling himself out of his swim trunks and rubbing the tip of his cock through your wetness, nudging your clit. You had half a mind to spit out the bikini bottoms from your mouth and tell him to get on with it already. He loved teasing you all too much. But you knew if you did so, Jake wouldn’t give you what you wanted. Much to your relief, Jake finally pushed in, making a muffled moan fall from your lips. 

With the movement of his hips, Jake has you slamming into the wall, causing the small boat to sway in the water. He grunts from the back of his throat with each thrust, hitting all the right places inside you. The small cabin started to heat up considerably from the heavy breathing you two produced. His dark, honey colored locks stick to his forehead as sweat drips down his neck. 

Even with the material of your swimsuit being held within your mouth, you let out high pitched whines with each of his movements. To steady you, he placed his hand upon your throat, giving it a light squeeze. You lift a hand to his chest and drag your nails down his skin, leaving harsh red marks in their wake, while your other hand grips the arm that’s wrapped around your throat. Jake hisses as your grip leaves crescent shaped marks in his tanned skin, tightening his hold on you. Your impending release was approaching, and as if sensing it, Jake moved his other hand down to your clit to rub it in sync with his thrusts. 

You hitch one leg over his hip to allow him to thrust deeper within you, relishing in the way he slid in and out of you. His lower lip has been chewed raw as he watches the way you stretch around his cock. You clench down on him, pulling a moan from him as he closes his eyes. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight.” You merely groan in response. The combination of his movements were quickly bringing you to climax, and Jake could tell. This did not slow him down by any means, he kept the same pace, continually fucking you into the wall. Before you knew it, you were releasing around Jake, bringing him to his own finish line.

The both of you breathed heavily as your respective highs came down. “Holy shit.” Jake whispers out, finally meeting your eyes. “You okay?” His fingers grasp the silky material of your swimsuit bottoms to pull them from your mouth, giving you a chance to finally breathe normally. 

“I’m okay.” You cup his cheek, wiping glistening sweat from under his eye with your thumb.

Knowing that you’d both been gone far too long, you gathered up the clothes strewn about to get back to the main deck. Jake stands behind you, tying the strings of your bikini top around your back. With a finishing touch, he plants a kiss on the back of your neck. 

In the time it took for you and Jake to collect yourselves, you relished in the time you’d spent together, even if it was sweaty and rigorous. You knew after you returned to the party above deck, you’d each be whisked away from one another once more and didn’t want that to happen just yet. A few final kisses were had before you made your way back. On the way up, Jake pulled one last stunt and swatted your ass before his brothers would see, only serving to remind you he was the one in charge and he wasn’t done with you just yet.

It seemed everyone tried not to notice how long you were gone, nor Jake’s straw hat that was still atop your head. Josh knew exactly what happened by hot red hot face and eyes that would never meet your own or Jake’s. He was sipping on a beer, talking Sam’s ear off about the newest film he had seen while Sam paid more attention to the hickey he was giving the girl all over him.

But as soon as you two came into view, he had to make some smart remark. “Nice hat you got there.” Sam snickers. 

Rolling your eyes, you shoulder chuck Sam playfully on your way to the cooler for another beer, stealing one last glance at your boyfriend who was still attempting to regain control of his breathing from your activities. But of course, he didn’t meet your eyes, only staring at the handprint on your ass he had left. 

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #gvf smut #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet smut #jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet x reader #gvf fic

[evangelinelilysworld]

Dangerous Beginnings

Leon Kennedy x Reader

You and Leon have been friends ever since you've trained together. Which means that you were both off limits to each other. But as you start to have more feelings for him, he gets his heart stepped on by a girl, which makes you the one that has to pick up the pieces. And now the ex is back and has just stolen what you two have worked so hard to get. Leaving the two of you with pent up frustration and what is a good way to get that frustration out?

Warnings: 18+ Light choking, yelling at the beginning, Porn with a plot, P in V, no protection

~Let me know if there are any other warnings, I left out~

Song: I Wanna Be Yours by: Artic Monkeys

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

"I knew she would be here. Didn't I tell you that she would be here?" Leon paces around the room of an abandon building. He hasn't stopped doing that for a good.... five minutes now. Of course, he's pissed at you because you almost killed Ada. Which, apparently, was not a wise decision. After all she is on the bad guy's team. Why would you ever want to hurt someone that has been stalking you guys and also just stole the one thing you worked so hard to get?

"You didn't have to do that. I was going to deal with it. Me and Ada have history. You should have let me handle it." You scoff. He wasn't taking care of it. He was staring at her like a bumbling buffoon. Therefore, you had to deal with it.

"You weren't taking care of it, Leon. And now she has Ashely. I wonder what she is going to do with Ashely now after we just spent all that time getting her." Leon stops pacing and looks at you.

"Well, maybe if you let me deal with her instead of taking it into your own hands, we could have saved Ashely." You step closer to him. You had grown tired of his moping over Ada. The girl that left your partner in a mess, and you had to pick up the pieces. Which was not easy for, because you have had a crush on Leon ever since you got paired with him on your first mission.

"Maybe if you had stopped looking at Ada like you were undressing her mentally, I wouldn't have had stepped in." Leon's piercing gaze pins you in place as he moves closer to you. You don't want to back down, so you stepped closer. There's only an inch between both of you. Chests are rising and falling quickly. Tension zaps through the air like a whip. Leon bends down to your ear, brushing a strand of hair behind it.

"It wasn't Ada I was mentally undressing." You freeze you in place shocked by his answer. Before you have a chance to answer he takes your face in his hands. Smothering your lip with his. His tongue traces your bottom lip, asking for permission. You open your mouth and let him in as you taste the whiskey on his tongue. You bite his lip trying to hold back a moan. You had waited for this to happen ever since you met him on your first mission. When you got paired with him you have seen women basically throw themselves at Leon. He would always say it was exhausting dealing with women doing that. Especially if you two were undercover and trying to lay low, so you thought it was best to keep that little crush to yourself. And now here you were, kissing the man that showed you tenderness when everyone else thought he was cold and hard. He takes the lead with the kissing and suddenly you feel like every other girl he has ever slept with or been with. He breaks the kissing taking in gulping breaths as you start think it's your turn to take the lead. When you both get your breathing under control you grab him by his grey t-shirt and pull him into you. As you start kissing him his eyes grow wide with amusement and arousal. When his back hits a wall his eyes flutter shut. Groaning as you start to explore his smooth and hard chest. You let you nails rake over his abs and hear him growl at the sensation. He hisses out a breath as your hands slip underneath his shirt, feeling the cold wind snake through the house and up his chiseled abs. His hands wonder over your body feeling your curves as you try to take of his t-shirt. He stops roaming your body to help you take off his shirt. When you both get fed up with struggling with it, he breaks the kiss and rips his shirt in half. His arms flex as he does the action, and you feel a pool of desire run through you. His mouth finds yours again with a new sort of passion you didn't think you would ever get from him. Your hands rake over his abs one more time and then they stoop lower to his belt. Before you have time to even undo his belt Leon stops you, pulling your hand away from his pants.

"You are first." His gravelly voice makes heat flood every part of you. You feel that heat dip lower as his mouth travels from your lips down to your neck. Distracting you as he flips you, so that you are the one trapped between him and the wall. His hands slide up your shirt making your hands claw their way up to Leon's hair. His hands go behind your back unclasping your bra and slipping one of his hands in-between the material touching your sensitive flesh. His mouth sucks where your pulse is on your neck, making you shiver and your head tilt to one side for him to have better access. You feel his arms flex as your shirt rips in half. You have to bite back a moan as you say,

"Leon, that was my only good t-shirt." He bites your neck harshly and this time you can't stop the moan that makes its way out of your mouth. He climbs up your neck to your ear and nibbles on the shell of it.

"You can wear one of mine." Your hands scratch up his back and into his scalp, leaving marks as they wind their way through his hair. This man might be the death of you. He slowly slides your bra strap down your shoulders with his mouth. Your skin prickles with anticipation and impatience. You peel Leon off of you and take matters into your own hands.

"You're taking too long." You say as you slide the straps off of your shoulders. Leaving you topless and you suddenly feel yourself slowly losing the confidence you once had. You try to take Leon in without looking him in his eyes as you see him staring at you. You see every scar, every bullet hole sewn up, everything that has happened to him is marked on his body. You have this sudden urge to trace every single mark and scar on his body. Your eyes wonder to the little happy trail that leads beneath his pants. Your fingers reach out to trace the scars when you realize that you are still very topless. You go to cover yourself up when Leon's hand stops you. You try to look everywhere but his eyes until he grabs your chin with his thumb lifting your face to look at him. When his eyes meet yours you breath gets knocked out of you when you see just how he's looking at you. His eyes hold this intensity that you have never seen before. Even when he was hanging around Ada you never once saw how he was looking at her the way that he is looking at you now. You feel butterflies kick up in your stomach as he says,

"You are gorgeous, baby. Now, let me finally have what I have been dreaming about ever since I saw you standing there in your little police uniform." His hands slowly travel from your hips to your pants. He unbuttons your pants and pulls them down along with your underwear. Your breath starts to quicken as you feel his hands travel up and down your legs. You shiver at the same time as the wind outside picks up and makes its way through the house. You feel hot and cold at the same time as Leon lifts your legs to wrap around his waist. Leon's deep laugh snaps you out of the haze he has put you in.

"Was that little shiver because of me or the wind?" You smile as you think of an answer you know will get underneath his skin. You know it might have consequences as you feel his fingers get dangerously close to the place where need him the most.

"It was the breeze." His other hand that is not on your legs slithers up to your throat and wraps around it. He squeezes lightly and says,

"Come on, doll. You know the real reason. Say it." His voice gets deeper as he says the last sentence. He waits for your answer by letting his nose trace your ear and neck. His fingers inching their way up further, getting closer to the place where need him the most. You open your mouth to give him a snarky comment when he thrust his fingers in you. Leaving you breathless as he moves his fingers slowly. When he starts getting faster you start getting closer and when he feels you get closer, he stops. Making your hips buck up and his hands hold you down. He leans in close and whispers, "Say it." You groan with frustration and look at Leon. His puffy red lips lift up into a knowing smirk. He knows what he's doing to you that bastard. He confirms this when his eyes have this mischievous look in them. That's when you know that you are done for.

"You, Leon. It was you that made me shiver." His knowing smirk grows as you say that answer. You are about to say something to him about that stupid smirk when he captures your lips in a bruising kiss.

"That's my girl." Without another word his fingers start to slip in and out of you. They pick up speed as your moans get breathier and breathier. You start to feel closer to release when he suddenly stops. Pulling his fingers out of you. You whine at the loss of contact and look at him, wondering why he stopped.

"You have to wait, baby. I want us to feel release at the same time. When you go, I want to be right behind you." He brings his fingers that were just inside of you up to his lips and sucks them into his mouth. His eyes flutter close as he moans around his fingers. Tasting you on them. When he's done licking them off his eyes open and pin you to the wall. If you had been standing up your knees probably would have buckled at how he's looking at you right now. His eyes hold this new intensity. "I need you, baby. Right now." He commands as he unbuckles his belt with one hand as the other hand brushes a strand of hair off of your face. Watching him take off his belt with one hand is a new thing that attracts you to this man. Who knew that would be so hot? Once he moves your legs higher up on his waist so that he is able to pull his pants down he lines himself up with your entrance. He pumps himself a couple times making your eyes zone in on how big he is. His fingers lift your chin and makes you look at him as your chest rises and falls just as fast as his. There is hardly any space between you two, making you two share any air that slips out of either one of your mouths. You feel his chest rumble as he says,

"I don't know if I can go slow, baby. So, if I hurt you pinch my arm, ok?" You nod your head unable to form words at this moment. He hums in response and enters you slowly. You bite his shoulder to keep from screaming as he hisses out a breath. "You're so tight, baby. Have you been saving yourself for me, baby?" You start to say something when he suddenly sinks deeper into you. "Use your words, baby." You claw his back hoping that it stings just a little bit.

"Yes, Leon. I have been waiting for you to get your head out of Ada's ass." He pulls out quickly and thrusts into you. Hard. Making you scream and moan at the same time. Causing you to see stars as he growls,

"The only one that has had my attention, y/n, is you. You are the only girl that has made me feel like I was going to go crazy if I didn't have you. Ada was just someone I thought I could use to get over you and that was wrong of me to do, but it made me realize that the only women I can work with is you. And in the end, it made me realize how much I love you. I love your smile, your laugh, your eyes. Everything about you pulls me into you. Ada was my partner during a mission and at the end I was not only heartbroken that she was gone but also because she wasn't you. Ada didn't have your smile, your laugh, or your personality. I never had the feelings for Ada as I do for you, y/n." Love? Did he just say that he loved you? After everything that you had been through with you were pretty sure you loved him back. Hell, you probably loved since the first time you saw him. Everything about him was just so natural, and after every mission that you two were on you two would go to this little restaurant back home and celebrate. Making you fall harder for him as you saw the side that he would only let very few people see. You felt special to him and that was all it took for you to fall for him. He puts his forehead to yours as he speeds up his pace. Both of you start sweating as the air in the damp house becomes cold to hot. He leans down and captures you lips as he starts to feel you getting closer and closer to that edge. Your moans start getting breathier as his groans start getting deeper. You are close to tipping over when his hand travel in between you two, making sure that you go before him. Your eyes flutter shut as you start seeing stars explode behind your eye lids. As you start coming down from your high that's when Leon loses his control and pushes further into you. Making your high last even longer. As the two of you come down at the same time you see him staring at you with this lovesick look on his face. You smile up at him and say,

"What?" He shakes his head and laughs. Looking back up at you with the beautiful eyes you have always loved.

"Nothing it's just... I finally found the person I spent all this time trying to get. I finally got the girl that has always been there for me. No matter what dumb thing I did." Your smile grows wider as pull him closer to you. He captures your lips in a kiss and says,

"I love you, y/n." You break the kiss and look him in his eyes.

"I love you too, Leon."

#leon x reader #leon smut #resident evil 4 #leon x y/n #re4 fanfiction

[manjiroscum]

JASMINES

Character/s: haitani brothers

Warnings: f!reader, hints of sex, stepcest, fluff, bonten does not exist in this timeline, mature language, all characters are above 18+ as always, poly relationship, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: this is for bby aly @riszu 🥺💕 get well soon bby

Synopsis: Taking care of their sick little step-sister is what good brothers do.

WC: 1k

Rain, sunny, pouring rain, and another hot day was an assurance for one to feel unwell due to the constant change of the weather. Believing yourself to be healthy enough to avoid getting the usual colds that were going door to door in the neighborhood, you begrudgingly found yourself lying in bed, sick. Tissues up your runny nose that were drenched with snot that resembled the used condoms sitting in the bin next to your messy desk. A cool patch on your sweaty forehead that was far more uncomfortable than the aftermath of last night’s illicit activities. The regular agenda of heading to the university went down the drain since even the mere thought of making a letter of absence was making your head spin faster than your step-brothers could switch holes. It cemented your fate in staying in bed until you felt better.

Fuck my life.

Thinking back whether you caught the illness during the commute to work, the bedroom door slowly swung open to reveal a mop of purple hued hair cut short, still damp as a towel was hanging loosely on Ran’s shoulder while his own violet irises assessed your exhausted form. The shirt he wore was still unbuttoned while the tie he chose for today sat in his hands.

“You okay?”

“Does it look like I’m fucking okay to you?” you snapped before wincing at how your voice croaked in the end. Throat dry and itchy. Upon realization that you used a harsh tone to address your concerned step-brother, you sighed. “J-just leave me alone and go. No need to feel sorry for me.”

Already used to your cranky self whenever you were sick or your monthly visitor had arrived, your Ran lightly laughed as he made his way closer, sitting on the edge. His hand was cold against your head, touch so soothing that you were almost lulled back to sleep.

“Now why on earth would I leave my darling sister alone while she’s sick, mhm?” Ran softly chuckled, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms across his chest. Those limpid eyes raking your pathetic form. Silently deciding whether he should go to work or stay behind to take care of you. “At least you’re not acting stupid like Rin who still went to class when he could barely stand and was hacking his chest.”

“Fucking heard that, ‘ya know,” Rindou huffed, making his presence known. The ends of his lilac hair tied back while his bangs were clipped back. The furrow of his brows lessened at the sight of you, one quick to rise in question. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s got a cold.”

“Yeah?” At the information, Rindou sighed and trudged to your bed. He ignored your protests when he had you move to make more room for his huge stature. “Then why are you rushing around? We had sex last night, she’s now sick so that means it won’t take long before we also start coughing like it’s New Years. Fuck work, I wanna lay down.” Muscled arms wound their way around you, pulling you close to Rindou’s warm chest that had you groaning. “What? Don’t want cuddles from me now, angel?”

“But Rin, it’s already hot—”

“Nonsense.” Nuzzling his chin on the spot between your neck and shoulder, Rindou’s lazy violets met Ran’s annoyed ones. They may not have spoken during the bit where you were whining at the sudden act of affection—one that you were secretly happy for—but it was evident both of them were at conflict on whether who should go out and buy medicine. Sadly for Ran, his younger brother was quick to latch onto you and he’d be heartless to pry you both away. Still, going out of the comforts of the apartment and being out in the rain did not sit well with him. But what choice does he have? “Let’s just stay in bed, yeah? Ran could go buy our medicine, won’t he?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Bending down to press a kiss onto your forehead, Ran smiled down at you. The sight of it had your heart pounding in its ribcage and making your flushed skin even more hot as if he was touching you intimately under broad daylight. “Will be back in a few, ‘kay? If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask Rin.”

One nod was all you gave, giggling at Ran side eyeing his brother prior to his exit. Rindou huffed lightly at the action then grinned at you, his left hand caressing your thigh and drawing abstract shapes on the flesh. “Sleep, angel. Don’t let me distract or prevent you from resting. I’ll just be here, ‘kay? Gonna wake you up once Ran’s back.”

Relaxing in his hold, you breathe in the familiar soothing scent of fabric softener and hummed. “You sure you’ll stay at home? I know how having perfect attendance means to you…”

“Nah.” Shaking his head, Rindou’s embrace slightly tightened. “Taking care of you is a priority. Plus, Ran and I did a number on you last night that I thought you got sick because of that—this is the least we can do.”

Snorting at the statement, you stared at the window across you. Raindrops on the glass, the sound of pitter patter a sort of lullaby to have your eyelids fluttering shut. And sleep, you did. In the protective arms of your step-brother who was better company than anyone whom you dated. Wrong it may be, but you didn’t have the strength to tackle or question your relationship with the brothers right now. Probably you never will, enjoying their presence enough not to. And really, they were good to you.

Really good.

Rindou waking you up by pressing kisses all over your face while Ran enters your room with a bouquet of jasmines was proof of that. The sweet scent of the flowers alleviated the weariness off of you momentarily. A bag filled with medicine and other essential stuff placed on the nightstand. Yes, your step-brothers indeed knew how to keep you satisfied.

🎐taglist: @ranilingus @wakaslut @festive @marism @wakasa-wifey @zuuki @stffychn @keijisprettygirl @cryptred @tobidabio @leavemealonebutinpink @blueparadis @kamisoria @h-shibas @chloee0x0

#pat.✍️fics #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x reader #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani ran x reader x haitani rindou #haitani ran #haitani rindou #haitani brothers #tw.stepcest

[luvmmarner]

That One Trip To Disney - Bo Horvat

Summary: When the New York Islanders lost in the playoffs. As promised you decided to take the kids to Disney World.

TAGLIST: @bolts-nation @j-drysdale @mysticaldonkey @ryeriy

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

TW: Slight Smut, mostly fluff.

Part of Bo’s family series. If you liked this post consider joining my TAGLIST?

–

You and Bo have been talking about taking the kids to Disney World for quite some time, but for some reason, you've never gotten around to actually making the plans. The interviews and all of the turmoil caused by the fans consumed half of his time.

As time went on and the number of interviews decreased, you were finally able to purchase tickets and organize everything else. Even though everything was guaranteed to cost ten times more when you got there, you still wanted to make this experience as memorable as possible for the children.

"Are you sure about this? It's like $1000 for the closest hotel. Why don't you just go with the kids by yourself? I can stay home. It will save you money." You sighed. You hated it when things were so expensive, especially if you weren't the one paying.

“You're my wife and no matter how expensive it’ll be. You’re coming with us. I want to create even more memories with the kids and you.” He whispered while giving you a hug and head kisses.

It was impossible not to break into a smile. His words were sufficient to persuade you that he did not care about money and that all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

"Are you guys excited!" You inquired while softly massaging the top of Jack's head, who is your youngest child. They all spoke at once saying "YEAH!" making you giggle. They were so adorable.

After settling into your seat on the plane, you laid your head against Bo as the plane prepared to take off. You couldn't have asked for anything more to make you happy; you had wonderful, well-behaved children and the most loving husband in the world.

As the plane landed, you wasted no time ordering a taxi to your hotel so that you could get settled in. The kids were tired and it was way past their bedtime. Because they were so exhausted, Jack and Charles were unable to walk properly without closing their eyes, so Bo carried them in his arms the entire way. However, Hailey was able to walk and you let out a giggle as she found herself awestruck by everything that was decorated in the hotel lobby. 

You put the kids in their shared beds. Before you too also got ready for bed. You brushed your teeth and was about to get changed into comfortable clothes, but as you were about to put on your shirt and shorts. Bo's hands immediately wrapped around your waist, your back immediately hitting the cold marble counter of the sink as he pushed you lightly against it. “We can’t the kids…” He hummed not caring or listening. He started to kiss your neck, and you tried to stop the groan from escaping your mouth as he traveled further down. His fingers found the way to your core. As he wasted no time in burying his finger in the dampness. Immediately he found your most sensitive spot you whimpered as the pleasure grew. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked biting on your bottom lip. “No” You gasped out as his finger's pace quickened inside of you. His other hand found your hair as he raked through it before tugging on it lightly. You were so close so so so so close and he knew it by the way you were clenching around his fingers. You were right there and now it was impossible to control your moans. Your lips parted letting out a series of moans. He hissed loudly a warning that you were being too loud. You couldn’t stop yourself though and he seemed to notice that because his lips found yours again. No matter how many times you kissed Bo. You would never get used to the warmth of his mouth and the way it made your body feel like it was on fire. You moaned in his mouth before breaking the kiss to nuzzle your face into his neck. “Cum for me angel.”

You were just about to cum before a cry followed by a voice grabbed your attention. “Mommy?” Jack cried from the bedroom. You were a mess – sweat was dripping on you and your hair was messy from it being tugged on. You picked the clothes you had arranged to wear for bed and swiftly put them on. You didn’t care to clean yourself up as you made your way to your kid.

“Yes, baby! I’m here what’s wrong.” You comforted him rubbing his back in circles.

“I had a- a nightmare..” he cried as you held him gently scratching his back and arms. “Shh baby it’s ok. It wasn’t real. I’m right here baby. Don’t worry mommy will protect you.” You explained to him. It didn’t even take a few minutes before he was fast asleep again snoring quietly into your shoulder. You placed him back into bed making sure to tuck him in.

You headed to your bed. You were exhausted you weren’t even able to cum and instead were denied because your son had a silly nightmare. After rearranging the covers on the bed, you crawled in and wrapped yourself in their coziness as you sank further into the warm embrace of the bedding. Bo soon joined you in the bed after spending a while in the bathroom. Only you knew what he was doing that lucky bastard. He wrapped his arms around you which you gladly accepted. You closed your eyes as sleep consumed you.

–

As soon as morning dawned the kids were all hyper managing to wake up before you. You were roused from your sleep by the sound of them calling your name You mumbled a few words before opening your eyes. As you did so, the sunlight immediately hit your eyes, causing you to groan and want to go back to sleep. You grabbed your clothes and threw them on as fast as you could. The kids were able to choose clothing from a selection of clothes that Bo picked out for them. As a result of waking up early, he was already dressed for the day. For the love of God, he probably got the kids to wake you up. 

You managed to get out of the house not long after, it was hard to convince the kids to eat breakfast. As their excitement made them all hyper, but with the promise of hot dogs and some candy they agreed to eat breakfast. 

You took the kids to see Mickey Mouse first as Hailey insisted. The faces of pure happiness on your kid's face made every dime worth it. Bo took Charles on some rides and then to see Olaf and Elsa. You got the kids some candy as you promised and matching hats which were adorable. Jack even got the courage to ask Cinderella to be his princess. Which made you giggle and melt again.

“Mom! Did you see that? I asked Cinderella to be my princess.” You giggled, he was so cute. 

“Yes, I did what did she say, baby.” You played along.

“She said yes mommy!” He shrieked jumping up and down in excitement. 

You smiled at ‘Cinderella’ mouthing a small ‘thank you’ Before taking Jack to where he wanted next. Which was some superhero one being his favorite spiderman. Hailey wasn't thrilled about going to see the superheroes, as she only liked spiderman and that was understandable at her age. You then met up again with Bo who took Charles on some quick rides since he was the only one that wanted to do that.

You suggested taking a photo in front of the castle which they were more than happy to do so. You asked a stranger to take the photo as Bo made sure everything was right before the stranger took the photo. You joined them as the stranger said to you “I got a few. Your family is so cute and very adorable.” You said thank you Bo gave you a kiss on the side of your head as you scrolled through the photos. All the photos were adorable, especially the one with Charles on his shoulders. 

You really did grow up to have the adorable family you had always fantasized about. You appreciated everything. You accomplished everything you ever wanted to accomplish, which was to have a husband and children who loved you very much.

#new york islanders #disney #bo horvat family dairy #bo horvat fic #bo horvat #nhl smut #nhl hockey #hockey #nhl imagine #fluff #nhl #hockey imagine #offseason

[everythingcounts2007remaster]

I have a challenge prompt: Kevin Flynn/Tron but in the universe of Black Mirror DURING the story

...I removed so much homoerotic tension from that story ahaha

Won’t lie, I’ve been letting this fic bob around in my skull for months because I love it so much. Furious and unshackled Tron + terrified but horny Flynn??? Fuck yeah.

This is set as an addition to the end of Ch 3 (after the pawnshop incident), I did my best to include all relevant information for those who haven’t read Black Mirror or for whom it’s been a while alike. :D 

CW for some abusive behavior and sexual assault oops (also this isn't nearly as carefully edited as Black Mirror itself, like all these prompts)

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“Is there anything else we need before we go to the sea?” Tron asked from up ahead, his back to Flynn and the decaying Purgos. He was eerily nonchalant, as if he hadn’t just threatened Flynn and his program’s lives—and delighted in it. 

The blank disc shook in Flynn’s hands as he tried hard to not think of where it came from and the lengths Tron descended to to get it. He needed only to keep in mind the lesson learned: to stay the hell out of Tron’s way. “Uh. No, I don’t think so.” 

“Good.” Tron detached his light-cycle baton from his thigh, preparing to take off again, then paused. His head canted ever so slightly toward Flynn. His voice was low, deceptively conversational. “It occurs to me that I’ve told you so much, again and again, but you have yet to tell me the one thing I’d very much like to know.”

Flynn froze ahead of the question they’d been dancing around since this whole clusterfuck started. 

“Why didn’t you install her?” Tron asked, turning to face him. His eyes were dark, dead set on getting an answer this time. 

But it caught in Flynn’s throat, too big and painful and nebulous to go any further. They were going through hell to get her now, how was that not enough?

“I dunno, man,” Flynn said. The blank disc hung from his fingertips, his shoulders slack with exhaustion. 

“I think you do.” Something wicked raked across Tron’s face as he faced Flynn directly. “I’ve been thinking. About Users and their fallibility, things I never dared to consider before. That, perhaps, you never had my best interests in mind.” 

Flynn took a staggering step back to negate Tron’s slow advance. He didn’t like the look in the program’s eye, the angle of his shoulders. With all those safety permissions revoked, Tron was capable of anything—and was testing the edges of these new parameters. 

“Though, given how your program operates, I suppose that was obvious, wasn’t it?” Tron’s smile was joyless and sharp. “It makes sense now, the way you look at me.” 

Flynn bumped into the alley wall. Shit. “What?” 

“More than that, it’s in the data. I have access to your ‘heart rate,’ did you know that? ‘Respiratory rate, temperature,’ I can even see your eye dilation from here. I’ve been reviewing the data, trying to understand it. User bodies are so different from programs, you know… But I think I finally do.” 

Flynn pressed his back further into the wall, hands flat against cold simulated brick, his mouth open but wordless. This was a different sort of trap he’d stepped in this time, something he’d spent years and years ignoring for both their sakes. 

“Say it out loud, Flynn.” Tron came closer, ever closer, and planted a hand on either side of Flynn’s head to pen him in; a scenario Flynn never imagined being nightmarish. “Tell me why you look at me the way you do. Why you denied me my counterpart.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” Flynn flattened himself against the wall to get any amount of space between them—and desires he’d thought long buried with everything else. “You… you don’t know what I’ve lost.” 

“Yori is at the bottom of the sea by your hand,” Tron ground out through clenched teeth, “and you want to talk to me about loss.” 

Flynn was far too agitated to keep tiptoeing through this. “You’re just a program, you have no concept of the world out there, what it’s like. How fucking horrible it can be.” How the only thing that might begin to fill the hole left behind by another could be so agonizingly out of reach. 

“Maybe I am just a program, but I’m no longer the only one trapped ‘in here.’” Tron’s voice dripped with contempt. “Remember, I followed you here, Flynn. Because you wanted me here.” 

Flynn had no interest in revisiting ancient history any longer; he was ready to skip to the end where he’d wind up with another fist to his gut or perhaps get kicked to the floor. To be the target of Tron’s aggression until he was left to limp to the sea by himself.

So, with as much acid as he could muster, Flynn said, “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly good at saying no to Users, are you.”

Tron slammed his hand against the wall, making Flynn flinch. His jaw worked in thought as he stared Flynn down, his logic processors whirring to an inevitable, horrible conclusion. “You used me. Because that’s what I was made for.” 

“Now—”

“But it wasn’t enough for you, was it? Is it ever enough?” Tron pressed himself closer, nearly flush against Flynn’s chest. Heat came off him in waves; he was overworking himself. “What would it take for it to be enough, Flynn?” 

There was pressure, gradual, alarming in its intimacy; Tron’s thigh pressed to Flynn’s groin, coaxing his legs apart. 

“Please don’t,” gasped Flynn, eyes shut tight.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Tron hissed in his ear, his thigh both threat and temptation. “Or is this not how you pictured it.” 

Flynn bit back a curse and winced. Part of him—an obvious part of him, provided Tron knew as much about human anatomy as his encroaching thigh suggested—found the danger he was in rather thrilling. 

In any other universe, Flynn would agree. 

“Hm. I guess that’s my answer.” Tron pulled back just enough to take Flynn’s chin in his hand, its firmness indistinguishable between fury and fervor. His laugh was caustic, cruel. “I want you to know: all you had to do was ask. I’d have leapt at the chance.” 

Everything in Flynn twisted at that, his hands sweating despite feeling so cold and light, like a balloon far out of reach. The instant Tron started to back off, Flynn shoved him the rest of the way. His cheeks burned as Tron laughed.

“Fuck you, man,” Flynn spat, uselessly swatting the unshackled program away. “Fuck you.” 

With a final glance to confirm his victory, Tron unholstered his baton and rezzed his light-cycle. A few seconds later he was gone, and Flynn was left alone in the dank alley, resentment and longing mixing bitterly in his chest. 

Tron wasn’t wrong, was he? There was more than one reason Flynn had cast Yori to the sea floor uninstalled, and why he’d delayed in porting her over in the first place. It was an ugly truth, one so petty and selfish that acknowledging it too long risked shattering his sense of self completely. Because he wasn’t like that, not really, not overall, not with real people.

But now this knowledge was in Tron’s hands, same as any other weapon—and Flynn, at his mercy. 

#tron #asks #my writing #ahh i really loved working on this one :D

[ffxivtribehydrae]

Cold Catchup

”Dubus..?” the gentle voice called, just high enough for the person in question to hear.

Looking up from the merchant’s wares with a start, Dubus greeted his brother with surprise and disbelief. Out of all places, he’d never expected to see Auro’usk on the streets of Ishgard all alone, and the wide eyes told enough of his astonishment without the use of words.

 “… Are you… visiting the d-d’Aumont estate..?” Auro’usk hesitantly guessed, worried he’d make the situation more awkward than it already was, considering the other’s silence. After all, feelings had been complicated between them before the eldest simply up and left without warning. While it hadn’t been entirely unexpected, it had still stung, so the small smile Auro’usk tried to give was strained.

Dubus took a deep breath as he stepped away from the merchant’s stand; a wave of the hand encouraged the other to follow to the side of the road so their conversation would hold at least some sort of privacy, not that anyone would likely understand their words when he opted for speaking in their native tongue. “I’m here to work, not to visit,” he corrected, now that the surprise had subsided, “You’ve always known my contact here… But what have brought you here? … Are the people at the company treating you well?” The latter question came after a moment of hesitation along a narrowed gaze; Adelle’s urging words echoing in his mind.  

The sudden suspicion towards his colleagues had Auro’usk blink in surprise this time, “N-no..! Y-yes, I mean, everyth-… That has n-nothing to…” he stressed with his usual fidgeting, gaze falling to the side as he realized he’d have to tell the other the reason for his visit. He didn’t want to say anything that would upset his brother, didn’t want to share his experience with a broken heart, didn’t want to reveal who he journeyed with, didn’t want to be the bringer of the ill events that taken place at the company… So he raked his mind to try think of how to word everything without upsetting his brother, hoping he hadn’t lost too much time in his thoughts, “I… am also here for work… W-with someone from the company…”

Unfortunately, his silence had lasted for too long. Dubus’ arms had had time to cross over his chest in the wait and the vague response had raised one eyebrow in suspicion. “Who?” though he asked in a gentle tone, the demand was evident behind the pursed lips that he wished to know more.

Now it was Auro’usk’s time to sigh as he rubbed one arm guiltily, glancing at his brother with begging eyes for the other to not be angry with him, “Moe… I’m helping her with work… So we travel all over Eorzea for a little while…”

Just the name was enough to prompt Dubus to roll back his head and groan. Stressed, he tapped his foot against the cobblestone while he seemed to deal with internal thoughts. He rubbed an anxious hand over his right arm, an action the younger took extra care in noticing, wondering if the scars were still there... Not that he or Moe had anything to do with them, but Auro’usk still felt guilt over the incident. When there was no scolding, complaining, or any other verbal response, Auro’usk continued with careful words, “We’re having fun, Dubus… I can take care of myself and… we don’t intend to get into any trouble… She wouldn’t allow it,” he attempted to reassure as the other’s displeasure was rather obvious.

Defeated, Dubus slumped as arms fell to his sides. “Fine,” he sighed, reluctantly accepting the situation. “Then I can safely assume you are happy and well… and that all is as good as it can be at the company, both for you and Dusk,” it was clear in the way he spoke that he didn’t believe himself any of the words he just spoke. Why else would the Elezen woman have wanted him to seek his brothers out if everything was well with them?

The eyes that met Auro’usk’s were serious, a piercing gaze that saw straight through him, they saw he was hiding something and demanded he laid bare the truths he only wanted to dance around. Perhaps it would have been better to not approach Dubus in the first place, like he had, but that wasn’t the kind of relationship he wanted with his brother. The eldest had always tried to support him, taken care of him when in need, despite his own troubles… His thoughts slowly escalated; becoming a jumbled mess the longer the silence lingered between them. Why he didn’t want to burden the other with all that happened, how a small part of him wanted to seek comfort and advice, what could they even do to change things..?

Dubus’ eyes softened, though with worry lacing his brow as he could see the other struggled with a troubled mind. The idea that something terrible had happened that was hard for the younger to even just speak of was concerning to say the least. His arms lifted around the other’s broad shoulders, a small step forward brought them into a reassuring hug he hadn’t given in a long, long time. He allowed for silence to linger at first so the other could snap out of their thoughts before he spoke again, “Hey, let’s go somewhere else and you can tell me what happened, yeah?”

Suddenly being enveloped in a hug caught Auro’usk by surprise, putting a prompt stop to his trail of spiraling thoughts. His arms didn’t return the hug; rather they curled against his body, shrinking his form as much as he could as he welcomed the comfort he’d secretly wished for. He allowed for a deep inhale that came out a little shaky as he nodded lightly, perhaps it was for the best to just tell the tales of all that had transpired since last they met.

“I’m sorry, Dubus… It’s… been a lot happening lately…”

The words did little to reassure, but at the very least it prepared him for hearing news to cause concern.

#Story Time! #Dubus Hydrae #Auro'usk Hydrae #I'd love to get into more writing #outside of the FFXIV challenge XD #so here be lil story to follow up the latest RP snippet #was supposed to make this longer #but will see if I get that inspiration later

[dausy]

I attempted a circus elephant. Didn't quite turn out like I wanted but alls good.

I had a horrible headache since Thursday evening and its finally given way this late morning. I was over it but once it wore off I was able to do a lot of stuff. The weather was great today. I walked outside in a skirt and I was actually warm. Just a couple days ago I was layering up still. I don't think the weather will last. Last year there was a snow storm around this time of year so I'm sure its false spring. I think I do get a bit of seasonal depression. I like cozy cold of Thanksgiving and Christmas but once the holidays are gone I was hot weather now.

I purchased a jean jacket which I've never had before that I can ever remember and I purchased a couple base layer summer dresses to layer with it. I hope they don't look dumb is all. I'm ready for farmers markets and brunch and sitting outside in the warm weather.

I did a lot of backyard work. I mean I guess it looks better but Im no landscaper. I think my neighbors were looking at me weird as I was mowing the lawn. All the grass is flattened and dead and its possible its not even grass but just a web of weeds. But I was using the mower as a leaf vacuum to try and pick up all the leaves rather than rake them. I did rake a good 10 bags of leaves but I don't have enough room in my dumpster. There was also a dead bird D: I had to pick it up. Probably gonna be bugs everywhere soon. I honestly think tomorrow Im just going to buy a ton of soil and grass seen and cover the entire yard. Im aware Im moving this year but I cannot let the sticker/goathead get out of control like it was when we moved in. My dog needs the back yard.

I have some weird work drama too. I always wanna talk about it but Im afraid of privacy issues. My boss bought us sub sandwiches for lunch a few days ago and I ended up being forced to take them all home. Ive been eating cold cut subs for the past 3 days (maybe thats why I have a headache). I gave some to the gate guards and my dog walkers family. Still had a bunch remaining. My dog walker is moving too btw in a couple months T_T my husband should be back by then but still. She said she has a replacement for me if I need it.

I've also posted this everywhere bragging on my spouse. He really did call me several weeks ago like "uhhh can you show me your Lion King collection I think I made a mistake" he knows I like TLK products and collect them but he's as clueless about my collection as I am if he asked me to buy him a gun. Like Idk what to buy. I guess its a little different because I own..a lot...and none of it is on display because we've moved so much the past couple years. So I had to take him into my closet and show him my breakables based on the boxes. I knew he found something online. I just wasnt sure which one it was.

Ive briefly scoured the internet for some sort of TLK 30th anniversary anything and havent found much. So this was a surprise to me. I would have found it eventually (and probably real soon) so he's lucky he got it to me. It was a very nice gift. It looks beautiful on my computer desk. I wish I had some of my other figures out but they'd just have to go in boxes again in a few months. One of these days I'll get a display case.

#illustration #sketchbook #watercolors #sketch #drawing #realmedia #traditionalart #mixedmedia #artblog #animalart #thelionking #disneymerch #thelionking30thanniversary #elephantart #disneyinspired