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#it made me smile in the middle of wanting to scream bc my teeth hurt sm
zorbs · 3 years
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I honestly don’t know when I did this but I drew you an evil tooth because they seem to not be very nice to you today
aaaaa omg i love it sm ty this seriously made my night
yes evil tooth my behated :( my teeth hate me right now and i hate them back
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Foolish girl
Warning: 18+
Rushed and random, have fun lovely ppl, might make a part 2 idk yet
Please don’t be offended if i dont inlclude you on a taglist, bc i really have no clue how that works, so i decided to note make one lmao
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You’re standing infront of the entrace of Grimmauld Place. You hadn’t seen Regulus in weeks now, too scared to ask Sirius why he wasn’t showing up in school. But you couldn’t take it anymore, you needed to know. Just as you were about to knock, the door opened, Regulus standing in the doorway. Your hand hovered midair, surprised. Regulus looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, mouth in a thin line. He scanned your face with an unreadable expression , before he breathed out, opening the door further. Stepping inside you followed him up the staircase, right into his room.
No words were spoken, when you took a seat on his bed, placing your bag on the floor. He stood with his back to you, looking out of the massive window. The candles made his face glow, dark cicles even more prominent in the dim, orange light.
His voice was hoarse when he spoke, as if he hadn’t spoken in days. “Do you need something?”
Getting up from your position you stood behind him, shaking your head. He was watching you from the reflection on the window, a solemn expression on his elegant face.
“Did Sirius send you?”
You shook your head again, eyes apologetic. He still hadn’t recovered from Sirius leaving him on his own. He dropped his head, an unamused puff of air escaping his nose. He murmured something under his breath, making the door slam shut, before his hand shot out, gripping your throat to slam you against the window right infront of him. His eyes were icy, a shiver running down your body at the tight grip of his long fingers.
“Do you really want to be here while I’m in this state?”
Your voice trembled as you spoke, “What state?”
He gave you a forced smile, lips curling to show his teeth. “What state? I’m thinking about beating you bloody. About taking away your ability to breathe. About slicing you with my wand.”
Your breath hitched, pulse quickening. You wanted to say something, anything. “Reg-”
His hands pressed harder. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
You clamped your mouth shut again, forcing yourself to hold eye contact.
“I want to fuck you. I want to taste your blood. I want to fuck your mouth. I want to ruin you for everyone else.”
He let you breath again and you gasped at the weight of his confession rather than the lack of air, heart heavy with an indescribable feeling.
“I’m gonna hurt you more than I will make you happy. My love isn’t pleasant. Do you understand?”
He crossed his arms behind his back, face guarded again.
“Yes, Regulus.”
Pressing his hips to yours he brushed his lips on your forhead gently, whispering. „Foolish girl, you should have never come here.“
---
“Don’t tell me that you can’t take more, you filthy girl.”
Regulus was relentlessly making you cum, he didn’t care how, as long as you came. On his fingers, on his lips, on his cock, on his toys. He simply wanted to see you cry out with pleasure, wanted you to make him forget about his life for a second. Wanted to see your skin break with the sharpness of his teeth.
“I can’t I cant please don’t-”
Regulus, frowned. “Yes you can, pet. Now be good and cum.”
You cried pathetically as you came for the third time this night. Tremors made you shake all over as you writhed, trying to get away from Regulus’ hands.
“That was it? Oh no, little girl, you can cum better than that!”
You balked at that, recoiling but he grabbed you by your hips pulling you up on your knees to fuck you from behind. Sliding in with one trust he pounded without mercy, not giving you time do adjust. He was consumed with the feel of your skin against his own, leaning over your back to bite at the skin between your shoulderblades. The bite left an imprit of his sharp canines, the skin slightly breaking under the force as you cried out in pain, which turned into pleasure instantly as you accidentally pushed back against his cock. 
“Mmm that’s it, fuck my cock...”, Regulus groaned, kissing your throat. without warning his hand came down hard on your tits and you came again, losing your voice while you screamed for mercy.
“Mercy, Reg please, I can’t!”
“I warned you ah- don‘t expect me to stop now. Take. It. Like a good. Girl.” He fucked you with every word, nails digging into the skin of your belly, hands pushing against the forming buldge. 
Pulling you up by your tangled hair he pressed your back against his chest, hands pressing on your throat. You dug your nails into his arms as you tried to pry his hands away, but he kept pressing harder.
„You breathe when I let you.“
With that he shoved you down again, hands on your clit and you came for the fifth time in a row. He pulled out dragging yoour head to hang off the bed and put his cock in your parted mouth, pushing in until his heavy balls rested on your chin. You choked, pushing against his thighs but he paid you no mind.
„Filthy girl, drooling all over my cock“, he sneered, „I can see me all the way down your throat.“
Hands snaking between your open legs he pushed his middle and ring finger inside and fucked your sore cunt, raw with all the orgasm he gave you before. Youwere hurting, tears dripping down your flushed cheeks, voice breaking as you sobbed. Pleading to let you rest.
He pushed into you one last time before he cursed and came down your throat, fucking your mouth full of his hot cum. The feeling overwhelmed you and you came again, mewling around his cock, body curling to protect itself.
Regulus pulled you up by your hair, pushing his forehead against yours as he panted and watched you swallow. Smirking breathlessly he pressed a kiss on your mouth for the first time that night.
„Don‘t think I‘m done with you yet.“
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blueunoias · 3 years
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Nesta is having her period and horrible day and she just want to go home. Then she and Cassian get in fight bc of something stupid (like Cassian has ate nestas chocolate or smth) and then she just starts crying. So like angst, comfort and yeah🤭
Ooooh, thank you for my first ask. I love this prompt! I'll do my best for you. Let me know if you want more modern au or canon!
For context Cassian was away for a day or two, Nesta had a bad day with her trauma. Nessian angst, comfort and fluff. Enjoy!
Cassian was exhausted when he'd gotten home from Windhaven his wings were worn out, his muscles ached in pain and all he wanted was to see his beautiful mate and sleep in her loving arms.
That would have to wait a bit however.
The family was having dinner at the River House, he quickly showered and changed, excited to finally be reunited with his mate, family and friends.
But mostly his mate.
Stepping into the house, he heard the booming laughter from the living room everyone was sat by the fire, this immediately set an alarm off in Cassian's brain.
As his eyes scanned the room, he found Mor relaxing on a lounge chaise, bottle of wine in hand.
Feyre on Rhys lap on a velvet arm chair.
Lucien and Elain were sat on the carpet by the coffee table wrapped in each others arms.
Amren was in her own chair nursing a glass of dark red ruby wine, with Varian at her feet massaging her ankles
Then his eyes caught to Azriel who stood in the far back of the room carerfully watching over Nesta who seemed like was trying to keep herself together.
Her posture was shrunk, her eyes were glazed and hollow, her breaths were small and heavy.
Cassian could see Nesta, his fierce, fearless mate, cowering into herself, drowning without someone to anchor her.
Suddenly noticing his presence, everyone in the room greeted him with cheerful ebullience.
Cassian politely greeted them and immediately made him path to his mate, ignoring Mor asking him to join her on the chaise or Rhys questions on his trip.
He had no intention of doing any of that. He had another mission.
"Hey sweetheart." He kneeled down in front of Nesta, gently putting his hands on her knees, rubbing delicate circles with his thumb.
Nesta slowly looked up and her gaze was suddenly icy and cold it chilled the room.
"She's been like this for a while." Azriel spoke lowly and quietly only for Cassian to hear.
Worry rushed through Cassian, his first primal instinct was immediately to take her home, hold her and comfort her.
Every protective Fae bone in his body wanted to soar out of there her in his arms, but calmly he took her hands pulled her up.
"I'm taking Nesta home." He announced making his way with an unresponsive Nesta to the exit. "I'll see you later."
"But you just got here." Mor pouted.
"Come on Cass. Stay a bit." Rhys asked.
"You both can always stay the night." Feyre offered generously.
"No. We're going home. And no more fires when I'm not here." He growled, the anger betraying him that they lit a fire and didn't account for Nesta's traumatized behavior.
Without another word he took Nesta and flew them back home to the House of Wind.
Once they were in the room, the House immediately procured warm tea and blankets for Nesta.
She walked silently to the bathroom, she had still to talk to him, still to touch him, still to even acknowledge him.
The fear was beginning to eat him up inside.
He followed her to their bathroom, finding Nesta standing like a ghost in the middle of the room.
Cassian stormed his way towards her, turning her body to his, searching her face for answers.
"Nesta, sweetheart. Talk to me, love." He said softly, cupping her face in his hand.
Then she pushed his hand away, twisting something in his gut.
"Nesta, what's wrong?" She still wouldn't meet his gaze.
Silence for a long stretch of a moment, until she finally opened her mouth and he finally heard her sweet voice.
"You took it."
"What?"
"You took it." She shoved him weakly in the chest, not moving him at all, but her voice grew louder and became glacial ice.
"Nesta what the fuck?" He growled, this was not the homecoming he was expecting.
"You took my book Cassian! You took my book." She shoved him again. Her face was rage, fury, mixed in with a hint of sadness?
"What the fuck? Your book?"
"Yes. My book. My book. The one you gifted me. You took it!." She shouted into his face, her breathing turned ragged.
"You're acting crazy over a fucking book?"
"Don't talk to me like that," she growled, barring her teeth. "You took my book."
"Calm the fuck down, alright. What the hell is wrong with you? You have lot's of books why the fuck are freaking out over one book?"
At this Nesta balked, her face turned red to pale, her eyes went hollow, suddenly tears started running down her eyes.
Sobs broke out of his mate, and Cassian was so utterly horrified.
Afraid of hurting her more and taken aback with confusion he stilled in his stop.
"It's not just a book." She cried, more tears danced down her face, agony twisted on her beautiful features, he felt Nesta's hurt through the bond and his own tearing his heart.
"Nes–"
"I need it! I needed the book. And took it. It was the only thing that keeps me grounded when you're not here, and you took it with you and my heart."
"Sweetheart." Cassian whispered, daring to take a step toward the devastating female, her took her head and cradled her to his chest, she continued to sob and he let her get it out.
He could see the tension in her shoulders fade away as she released the pain she'd been holding in all day.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Nesta my love." He apologized into her hair, pressing kisses to her crown. "I'm sorry."
He didn't know how long he and Nesta stood there holding each other, embraced in each other's arms, but finally Nesta's sobs subsided, her breathing calmed.
"Bad day?" He asked softly, leaning away to cup her beautiful face in his calloused hands.
She nodded solemnly against his embrace.
"Bad day. And you weren't here." More tears danced down her pale ivory skin, her blue grey eyes shined in the moonlight.
Even in sadness, Nesta was still the most beautiful creature he's ever set his ancient eyes on.
"And– and then with the fire and all the talking and voiced it was, it just was too much. I didn't– I couldn't handle it without you there."
He gently wiped her tears with his thumbs, leaning in to press kisses under her cheeks.
"I'm sorry sweetheart. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again." He promised, holding her to his chest again, arm wrapped around her waist the other hand brushing out her braided hair.
"You know I'm always here for you. I got your back Nesta.
"I missed you." She confessed quietly, her arms tighter around his waist.
"I know, I know. I missed you too. So much."
"It's hard when you're not here sometimes."
"It's hard for me too." He breathed. "Not being with you. You're my anchor too Nesta."
As much as he loved his fiery sassy Nesta, he loved when Nesta could open her heart to him and be so vulnerable even if it took a little screaming to get there.
"I'm sorry for– well for freaking out. The way I did."
"Don't apologise, Nes." He pulled away just to look down and smile at her. Taking her hand he led her back into the bedroom.
"Thank you for being my anchor." She said, in which he grinned in response, conveying all the words with a simple look.
Always. Nesta. Always.
"Come on sweetheart. Let's get to bed." He said pressing a soft warm kiss to her full lips, rousing a small bashful smile from his female.
Sleep came easy to Cassian, with Nesta calm and soothed wrapped up in his arm, her arms wrapped around his, her pretty head laying on his chest.
"I love you, Cass." His mate whispered into the night.
He pulled even closer to his firm body, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"I love you too, Nes."
In this life and the next.
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atpk · 3 years
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Mermay (Convin)
There are two types of merfolk: one that lives in the warm clear blue of the carol reefs and the other that lives in the colder darker depths. The ones that live in the warm waters look closer to human, apart from their tails; the ones that live in the cold waters have evolved to have webbed hands and scales on their torsos to help them swim faster. Connor is one of the warm water merfolk. Gavin is one of the cold water merfolk. They don’t mix. Cold water merfolk think the warm water dwellers are weak and soft and way too full of themselves. Warm water merfolk tell stories to their children at night that if they’re very bad the cold water dwellers will come and drag them down into the depths never to be seen again.
So ...
Gavin is out hunting for lunch, and he spots a particularly tasty looking red snapper so takes chase, his perfectly streamlined body torpedoing through the dim cold water; he snags his tail on yet another sharp rock outcrop, potentially adding to the numerous scars he already had along his tail and torso, but doesn’t stop until — he realises the water around him has got warmer, instantly making him uncomfortable. He looks up and realises that he’s closer to the surface than he should be and very far out of his own territory. The red snapper has gone and he’s surrounded by fish he doesn’t immediately recognise.
Needing to get his bearings he carefully climbs the nearest rock formation, his webbed fingers perfect for adhering to the craggy surface. The sun is hot and he closes his eyes and turns his head away from the blinding bright light. He shouldn’t have come up here. It wasn’t safe. He was too close to the land. Shielding his eyes from the sunlight he moved higher up out of the water and stopped, his heart beating a scared rhythm. There on a sandy rock, basking himself in the suns rays, was not only a warm water dwellers, but also the most breathtakingly beautiful mer he’d ever seen. Gavin could only stare, lifting himself higher on the rocks to see better. The mer was oblivious, enjoying the sea spray crashing on his tail and body.
Gavin caught sight of his webbed hands splayed on the rocks in front of him and shook his head, angry at himself for wasting his time daydreaming about this pretty poser. The twofers (this is what Gavin calls humans bc they have two legs) hunted in this area and if that dumb mer wasn’t careful he’d find his tail on the end of a hook, and himself carted off to some aquarium or other.
Gavin slunk back across the rocks and dove back into the too warm water. He was still hungry and the fish swimming around him were too small to do anything but dull the ache in his stomach. Damn that red snapper for getting away and leading him so far away from home. Gavin dove deeper, leaving the surface far below.
Several weeks later, Gavin’d almost completely forgotten about the pretty posing mer, with his perfect tail glinting into the sunlight, and his perfect smooth torso unmarked by a single scale, and his perfect hair swept back from his face — and then Gavin spotted a flash of movement above him, and it was him. The same mer he’d seen sunbathing beautifully on the sand, and he was swimming against the current, struggling to put distance between himself and the dark shadow of the twofer hunting vessel above. Gavin had seen this too many times not to know what was going to happen next. The twofers had obviously tagged the mer while he was on the surface and now they could pinpoint him with almost perfect accuracy. The harpoon came out of nowhere and pierced straight through the soft flesh of the mer’s tail, the hook catching and starting to drag him back and up. Gavin took chase, gaining speed, but the mechanism dragging the mer out of the ocean was faster. And then the mer grabbed onto a nearby rock outcrop and held on for dear life, the only problem being his stupid unwebbed fingers were useless at gripping and holding firm and soon he was only stopping his ascent by the skin of his finger tips.
Gavin saw the moment the mer saw him, he saw the instant flash of fear, but that didn’t stop him from pulling out his blade and hacking at the metal coil attached to the harpoon. The mer screamed in pain as the harpoon ripped deeper into his flesh but Gavin was intent only on getting him free. The metal quickly dulled his blade and Gavin threw it aside using his razor sharp teeth to bite through the last the few strands
The mer was free but had passed out due to the pain and Gavin did the only thing he knew to do and wrapped his arm around the mer’s waist speeding them away from the surface and down into the safety of the dark. Gavin couldn’t bring the top dweller home, he couldn’t be seen fraternising with their sort, so instead he took him to his private hideout.
The cave was small but they were still able to fit at a squeeze. Up close, this mer was even more beautiful than Gavin had thought, but he was bleeding out and Gavin went to work cleaning and disinfecting the wound, and he continued to keep the wound clean for the next day, only leaving to catch food, until the mer finally woke up.
Again Gavin saw that fear flash in his eyes, and his anger spiked.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna eat you.”
The mer looked around them, taking in the cave, the supplies, his bandaged tail and finally looked back at Gavin.
“Thank you for saving me.”
“Whatever,” Gavin snapped and went out to catch some fish.
Connor, that was the pretty mer’s name. A pretty name for a pretty mer, and he liked to talk. He found everything of interest. All the unfamiliar fish that swam by, and their unfamiliar tastes. He marvelled at the lichen on the rocks and almost got his fingers caught in a few oyster shells as he reached in to get the pearl and they clamped shut. In the end, Gavin got him a pearl and Connor beamed at him so happily, it made Gavin’s stomach do funny little backflips. Connor almost died with happiness when Gigi, Gavin’s catfish, turned up to say hello.
“You’re not what I expected from, well, from a cold water dwellers.”
“You were going to say ‘webber’, weren’t you?’
Connor looked chastised.
“I’m sorry, it’s just, I’ve been told my whole life that your kind are dangerous. I was told your webbed hands were slimy. But they’re not. They feel so nice on my tail.”
Connor blushed and then so did Gavin.
“You shouldn’t believe everything you’re told.”
Connor was able to swim a little now without too much pain, his tail was healing nicely, and they’d swim together, their tails sometimes touching, Gavin showing Connor all his favourite places; but oddly enough, whenever Gavin brought up the idea that Connor could probably go home soon, a subject both of them had been avoiding, Connor’s wound would suddenly feel much worse and he’d go back to hiding in the cave.
“We both know you’re fine now.” Gavin bit out reluctantly.
“No, it still hurts.”
Gavin levelled a look at him.
“I don’t want to go.” Connor admitted. “I like it here, with you.”
“You can’t stay here, Connor.” Gavin muttered. “You don’t belong here.”
They both fell silent.
It was true.
Their kinds didn’t mix.
This was just a fluke.
An accident.
It was never supposed to happen.
But it had happened.
“We can carry on seeing each other.” Connor says hopefully. “I can come down, you can come up, and we’ll meet somewhere in the middle.”
Gavin did want that. He really did. But if his kind found out, he’d be ostracised. They already lived in a delicate balance and it wouldn’t take much to tip things over into the worse.
“It’s dangerous.”
“I like you.”
“We shouldn’t.”
“I want to keep seeing you.”
“Connor.”
“Please.”
“I’m sorry.”
Connor looked heartbroken but nodded, accepting Gavin’s decision.
“If you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.”
Gavin couldn’t take the risk despite how much he still wanted to see Connor, and he endured the next few angst filled weeks mourning his loss until he couldn’t take it anymore.
Going against his better judgement he swam as fast as possible to the rendezvous point Connor had given him, convinced that Connor wouldn’t be there, and his heart leapt when he saw that he was wrong. Connor was there, just as he’d promised to be, waiting patiently for Gavin. Gavin stopping, and did nothing more than float for the next few moments, just staring at his pretty mer, with his perfect tail and perfect torso and perfect hair that swept back from his face, and was just thankful that Connor hadn’t given up on him.
Gavin uncertainly approached and Connor turned slowly towards him and the smile that lit Connor’s face told him he’d made the right decision. Whatever came next, they’d face it, together.
And so they enter into a secret relationship, where they both have to be careful not to let anyone else know. Like Romeo and Juliet only in this one nobody dies and they all live happily ever after in the end.
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Hi ! I'd like to request a smut scenario for a jealous Yami and his beautiful fem!reader ? At the end of their date, his fem!s/o paid no attention to him while she was talking to an old friend so he gotta punish her that night for that ;). (Yami is my fav one in BC btw.)
Of course! And to let other readers know, they sent me a separate message clarifying that these prompts were 148 and 158 from the smut prompt list! Also, I don’t know why, but before I started writing for this request, I thought you had specified that Julius was the old friend, but I am now realizing you didn’t, but I’m gonna take some creative liberty and have Julius be the friend 
Warnings: NSFW/Spicy, swearing
Jealous!YamixFem!Reader 
148: “I’m not jealous! It’s just... you’re mine.”
158: “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget that guy’s name”
The date had been going well... at first. At least, that’s how Yami felt, but you looked like you were having the time of your life.
Of course. Of fucking course that pompous, butts-his-head-into-everything Wizard King just had to be at the same place you two were, and just had to come over and start talking to you, and just had to pull up a chair, thus forth stealing all of your attention.
Yami wasn’t quite sure how long the conversation that the two of you were holding had gone on; could’ve been twenty minutes or two minutes, all he knew was that it was going on for too damn long. Sighing for the umpteenth time, he rolled his eyes over to you, hoping to catch your eye and signal to you that Julius needed to fucking leave, but you were too enraptured with whatever you were talking about. You were smiling and giggling at what Julius said to you, making Yami’s blood boil. He was the one that should’ve been making you act like that during your date, not the Wizard King.
“You know,” Yami stood up, quickly getting fed up with how the night was ending, “I actually forgot we were late for something else we had planned for the night. Come on, y/n.” Moving around the table, he grabbed your arm to pull you up from your chair while simultaneously throwing down a bag of coins for the meal, not really caring if it was too much or too little.
“O-oh,” you sputtered out in surprise, “Ok. Well, it was good seeing you Julius!” Your sentence getting increasingly louder as he pulled you farther away from the table.
“See you next time, y/n, Yami!” While Julius sounded chipper in his goodbye, his face showed confusion. While Yami had a blunt way of ended a conversation, he never left during the middle of a meal. Something about not letting good food going to waste or something.
“We have something else planned?” You questioned turned around after waving goodbye to your good friend. “You didn’t mention anything past dinner when we talked about going out?”
“Not necessarily,” Yami grumbled, scrambling to come up with an excuse, “I was just finished eating and didn’t want to spend all night in that stuffy restaurant.”
“No you weren’t? We weren’t even halfway through eating!”
Now, it wasn’t like Yami hated Julius or anything, hell he was technically the reason why you and him met, but the fact that he just crashed your date with no second thought made Yami agitated to the highest degree.
“Yami, what’s going on?” You demanded, digging your heels into the ground to get him to stop pulling you around.
“I was just ready to leave, ok?” He huffed, turning around to face you. You squinted your eyes at him, tilting your head slightly. It was obvious that you were thinking about the nights events to see what caused him to act the way he was.
“Yami, are you... are you jealous?” 
“I’m not jealous!”
You quirked your eyebrow, challenging him to explain that if he wasn’t jealous, than what was going on?
“It’s just... you’re mine. I had this really nice date set up for us and suddenly you were giving all your attention to Julius...”
Your eyes softened at his confession. “Oh, babe, I didn’t even think of it that way. Still, you could’ve just told Julius what was going on, I’m sure he wouldn’t have batted an eye. Regardless, I’m sorry.” You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and instinctively he wrapped his arms around your waist. He his is face in the crook of your neck, unable to look you in the eyes as he realized he may have overreacted just a little bit, but he was never going to admit to that. Doing so, though, he missed the mischievous smiling forming on your lips as one of your hands started to slide down his chest. You tilted your head slightly to whisper in his ear, your mouth lightly brushing up against it.
“Can I make it up to you?”
Thankfully, the rest of the Black Bulls were already passed out by the time the two of you had made it back to base, so no one saw how Yami couldn’t keep his hands off of you or heard your soft giggles that followed. He quickly pushed you into his room, closing the door by slamming you against it.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget that guy’s name,” He murmured into your ear, “You’ve been very naughty tonight, I think you deserve punishment. Don’t you?”
Your breath hitched at his words, heat already pooling low in you. You nodded vigorously, not trusting your voice as he started to slide his hands down your sides to play with the top of your skirt.
“Use your words, sweetheart.”
“Y-yes sir.”  
“Good girl.” He purred before quickly shoving down your skirt and panties in one quick motion. You didn’t have time to comprehend what he had done as he was already picking you up to lay you across his lap while he sat on the bed.
“Do you remember the safe word?” He asked you, breaking character for just a moment, while lightly rubbing your bare ass.
“Yes.” You squirmed, grateful that he was double checking that you stayed safe, but your body felt like it was buzzing with anticipation and you just wanted him to get on with it.
Without warning, his hand loudly spanked your behind, causing you to cry out. You could feel heat bloom where his hand had landed, but instead of hurting, it made you feel so deliciously good. He spared you no time, quickly spanking you again, but this time you bit your lip to quite the loud cries that were coming from your mouth.
“Now, we can’t have that, baby girl,” he pulled on your hair to left your head up and meet his eyes, “I wanna hear every noise that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours. I want everyone to hear you, so they know exactly that I’m the only one who can make you feel this good.” He smacked your ass to prove his point, this time you let the loud groans tumble out. “Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” You panted, giving him the go ahead to continue is ministrations.
You lost count on how many times he had spanked you, seeing as the pleasure coursing through your body clouded your mind and your vision, leaving you a panting, whiny mess. You were sure that you had left a mess on him as you could feel the wetness from your dripping cunt leak down your legs, practically begging for attention.
“Feeling good, baby?” He asked you, rubbing loving circles on your cherry red ass. All you could manage was a feeble “Mhm.” as most of your concentration was set on not just giving into the pleasure and basically rutting yourself against his legs, seeing as that would just result in more punishments and you didn’t know if you could last that long without some form of release.
“You’ve been such a good girl for me,” he gingerly moved you so you straddled his waist, “I suppose I should reward you. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” You moaned out. The bulge in his pants pressed just right against your core and it took all you had to not start grinding down it.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir. Please, I’ve been so good, I want... no, need you inside of me...” You couldn’t stop the breathy words from spilling out of your mouth; your body felt like it was on fire with need.
At your statement, Yami couldn’t do anything but grip your waist and lightly buck his hips into yours, causing you to moan out, finally feeling that friction you so desperately craved.
“Well, when you beg so nicely, how can I say no to you?”
That was the only warning he gave you before flipping you over and pinning you to the bed with his thighs. He ripped his shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the darkened room, and met your lips with a fiery kiss. His hand trailed down your body and stopped at your pulsating core, gently sliding a finger in to pump in and out of you.
“God, you’re perfect,” he broke your kiss to moan into your ear, “so eager, so wet, just for me.”
“Just for you.” You repeated back, reveling in the feeling he was giving you, but you still wanted more. You felt him shudder at you words before he briefly pulled away from you and you heard the sounds of his pants unzipping and falling to the ground.
You wanted to whine at the loss of contact, but you knew better than to do something that would warrant more punishments. While you felt like you were going to implode from the teasing, you knew he could go all night and you didn’t want to test those waters at the moment.
He reappeared in your vision, on top of you once more. A flash of teeth was all you got from him before suddenly he fully bottomed you out with his cock and set a brutal pace.
“Fuck!” Was all you could cry out as your hands found purchas on his biceps. He moved your legs up so he could drive deeper and deeper into you.
You didn’t know how much longer you could last and he could sense that, so he reached down to start rubbing at your clit, causing you to scream out in pleasure as pressure started to coil tighter and tighter inside of you.
“Do you wanna cum for me,” he rasped at you, panting hard in between in each word, “Cum like the good little slut you are?”
“Yes!” You practically yelled out. “Yes! Please! P-please let me cum!”
“Then cum.” As if his words had power, you came right then. Yami rode you out through your orgasm, his coming not too long after yours. He didn’t stop slowly pumping in and out of you until you whimpered out from overstimulation and he rolled over to your side, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close to his chest.
“You ok?” He started running his fingers through your hair.
“Mhm,” you nuzzled even closer to his chest, “I feel amazing.”
“Good,” he lightly pulled you away for you to look into his darkening eyes, “Because our night has only begun.”
Smut prompt list
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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years
Text
Beach Waves and Happiness
a little self-indulgent something i was hoarding in my documents and decided to share. maybe or maybe not bc i felt bad bc of all the angst i was posting. i hope you all enjoy it :)
A/N: In my mind, I imagine that Bakugo and his spouse would certainly have a bumpy marriage. I headcanon that his spouse is as headstrong as he is, if not stronger. They need to be in order to handle all that is Bakugo Katsuki lmao. But they grow with each day and are their strongest together. He’s also matured by then, so it’ll always work out in the end.
A little context. You and Katsuki have been married for a couple of years and have kids. Koji and Eva. Twins. Not much else to say but enjoy this sweet, sugary, domestic fic. 
Warnings: Mentions of intimacy, cursing
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Beach Waves and Happiness (Bakugo X Reader)
When the twins were old enough to walk and (mostly) potty-trained, that’s when you started taking trips. You were so excited to spend time as a family apart from dinner and bath time. Katsuki was excited to see you in a swimsuit again.
And family time as well!
Their first international trip was to Hawaii. Your husband had been a couple times and thought it would be a good and family-friendly vacation spot. You grew up on the beach so being on the island was perfect for you. Katsuki saw how you flourished under the sun, with the salty wind tousling your braids and the white sand on your feet. As you took your children to the waves, smiling like the sun as they squealed from the water, he felt heart swell with pride.
He never wanted to take for granted what he had been given.
“It tickles!” Eva, the eldest twin, giggled.
Koji was a bit hesitant to touch the water but gained confidence when he felt his sister grab his hand. When the waves began to roll in, they screamed with excitement and ran the other way. They continued their game of chase whiles their mother watched them with a smile.
Feeling eyes on yourself, you caught your husband’s adoring gaze and goofily posed. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” you joked.
And moment ruined. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he walked by your side. Katsuki placed his hand on your waist, inviting you to lean on his shoulder. You two stood there for a moment, letting the sound of your children’s laughter and waves settle between them.
“Don’t you wish we could just stay here forever?” you suddenly said.
“All the time, but money doesn’t grow on trees. You actually have to work for stuff.”
“Imagine that.” You raised your head catching Katsuki’s eyes. He hummed for your thoughts. “Nothing. Just kind of taking in everything. I feel at peace. More than I have in a long time.”
It was meant to be happy words, but it made the blonde hero deflate just a bit. A thought had been gnawing at his heart for a while and he found he could no longer hold in his question.
“[Y/N], are you happy?”
That got you to pause. You turned to hold his waist with your arms. “The short answer is yes, but what do you mean?” you said, eyeing how contemplative he looked.
Katsuki felt himself absent-mindedly play with your hair as he stared where the sand met the waves. He was never good with his words but damn it. He needed to know. Even if it could hurt him.
“It’s just…I know being with me isn’t the easiest.”
“Katsuki, if this is about our fight, I told you—”
“No. I mean yes, but not entirely. Let me just get this out.” You sighed but nodded. “When I asked you to move in with me, I half expected you to say no. But you did. And I know being thousands of miles away from your friends and family is shitty. Especially in Japan where you might feel alone. I mean, I know you made friends with Deku, Cheeks, Pinky, and all those idiots but it’s different. It’s not your home. But you never complain. You always adjust. Even after we got married and had children, and you felt like you were suffocating under all the responsibility when I was being a shit ass husband and father, you never said anything until you were at your breaking point.”
It pained him to remember how he didn’t know you were going through postpartum depression until it got so bad, he’d wake up to find you sobbing in the living room by yourself. Or when your mother called him five months into the marriage and nearly cussed him dead for her daughter feeling like she couldn’t even tell him she was going through a hard time. Sternly reminding him that you dropped everything to move to Japan for his career. That’s when she accidentally slipped that you were pregnant.
He was still young at the time and in the midst of a stressful time in his career. When he confronted you about it, he admitted he did more yelling than he should have. You took your ring off and he felt his heartbreak for the first time. You said you’d stay at a hotel, but he begged you to stay in the house and he left for his parent’s house. It was a tough week. One of the toughest weeks in your relationship. However, you preserved. As always.
Although, Katsuki still saw how exhausted you were. Even when he gave more than 100%, you were still tired, and he had a feeling it wasn’t physical exhaustion.
Your husband tucked a braid behind your ear and the look he gave you made your chest pinch. “I just don’t want you to get to your breaking point with me and before I can help it, lose you and the twins,” he said, voice barely above the sound of the sea.
There was only a small amount of times you’d see him so open about his feelings. Sometimes you’d admit you didn’t handle it well. Thus, the fights. You and your husband weren’t good at expressing your emotions properly and learning to do so was a journey. However, you always appreciated his willingness to grow—whether it was before or after the matter.
“Baby,” you cooed, softly kissing the corner of his lips. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’d have to be the coldest, most heartless, bitch on the planet to keep you away from Eva and Koji. No matter what happens to us, you’re still their father. A good one at that, and I would never separate you three. Besides, my mom and yours would hang me before I could.”
He chuckled. He knew you were only half-joking. Your parents were alike in more ways than one. It was kind of scary, but good for family gatherings.
“And, if I’m going to be honest, it was really hard at first. Sometimes, I thought I made the wrong decision, but then you’d come home, and we’d spend hours talking and every day I was reminded why I did it. The way your eyes would light up every time you’d talk about work made my heart flutter. Then you’d turn around, look at me, and tell me how being at your side made everything better. When I couldn’t tell you how useless I felt, you’d just know and make me feel on top of the world. When I’m hard on myself, you’re there to bully the insecurities out. I see the little things you do like buy more tampons and pads, without me having to ask, when I run low, wash the dishes as soon as you come home because you know I hate doing them, or turn the fan off in the middle of the night when I shiver, even when you’re hot.
We butt heads. We fight for sure. And we kind of suck ass at dealing with our feelings. But not for one moment did I stop loving you any less. Maybe I didn’t like you all the time,” she snickered and Katsuki snorted. “But I loved you. I love you. And I know you love me all the same.”
Katsuki didn’t know why he had been blessed, especially since he wasn’t the best person in his past. However, he never questioned it. He just cherished.
With no other way to properly express his gratitude, he pulled you closer and he pressed a heart-stopping kiss to your lips. You moaned, gripping his bicep, as he tilted your head, one hand under your chin and the other on the small of your back. Katsuki pulled back, your bottom lip between his teeth, to gaze at you in a way that warmed your body.
“Till death do us part, huh?” he smiled.
“You’re kinda stuck with me even after that.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Who knew you could be so corny?” you chuckled.
A hand came down on your ass and you gasped, laughing at his antics. “Don’t ruin the moment, dumbass.”
You continued your kissing, smirking between them. “You’re lucky you have a big dic—”
A tug at your skirt brought you two out of your…conversation.
It was Koji.
“Momma! We build castle!” he cheerfully smiled. Then he dropped his smile in 0.3 seconds and frowned at his father. “N’ you! Daddy no eat momma. We talk about dis.”
You snickered behind your hands as Katsuki’s eye twitched. Your son was at the age where he was forming an Oedipus complex. He and Katsuki had a thirty-minute conversation about him trying to “eat you” and “killing you” at night. It was endearing for you and annoying for him.
“Fine, you little brat. We’re watching your dumb castle,” he grumbled.
“You dumb!” Eva retaliated for her brother. Koji hmphed in agreement before running back to his sister.
You were openly cracking up and Katsuki was steaming.
“I’m glad you find this funny, jerk,” he mumbled.
“Hilarious actually.”
There was a moment of comforting silence.
“What was that about my big—”
“Koji! Your daddy’s tryna kill me again!”
“What the—? No I’m not!”
“DADDY!”
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waywardxwords · 3 years
Text
Whole Again
Summary: When Crowley is holding your family hostage, you jump into gear to try to rescue them. You feel angry as Dean insists you need a plan before rushing in. Your feelings are overwhelming, especially when you realize why you’re feeling the way that you do. You just want to feel whole again.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader
Word Count: 4,821
Warnings: Violence, blood, vomiting (not too detailed), severe sadness/despair, swearing, and fluffiness (bc I don’t know any other way lol)
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The engine of your 1969 Mercury Cougar roared against the asphalt as you drove down some one-lane highway in the middle of some rural town in Kansas. You pressed your foot even further on the accelerator, not minding the speed limit. You didn’t care; there wasn’t enough time.
Your eyes watched the path in front of you, bathed in the light from your headlights. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your cell phone screen light up—the buzz from it vibrating, slightly noticeable against the vinyl seat upholstery.
Without even looking at the ID, you knew who it was. You reached for the device and slid to answer—this was the fifth time he had called. He wasn’t going to stop until you obliged. “What?” You barked into the receiver of the phone.
“Y/N, listen to me,” Dean Winchester breathed into the phone. “You have to turn around. We need a plan. You can’t just barge in there.” You could tell he was doing everything he could to remain calm and collected; must be nice, you thought to yourself. He doesn’t have a horse in this race, so of course he wants to play it safe.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Dean,” you spat back. Your eyes blurred from the angry tears that had pooled there. You blinked—hard—to will them away. Instead, they escaped through the corners of your eyes and trailed down your face. You didn’t care.
“Dammit, Y/N,” all bets were off, and Dean had returned to his angsty, gruff self. “This is a trap, and you know it.”
“Do you really think I’m that stupid? Of course, it’s a trap, Dean! But what the hell am I supposed to do?! You tell me what you would do in this situation if it were Sam,” your words dripped with bitterness, but again—you didn’t care. The emotions in you ranged from anger to annoyance to disappointment—you had trusted him, and now you felt like a fool.
“Y/N…” he trailed off.
“Exactly. You can’t tell me, because you would be doing exactly what I’m doing,” there was a fierceness behind your words that Dean hadn’t heard before. “You made your choice to stay. And you know what? That’s fine; that’s on you. I don’t even care anymore,” you tried to make your voice sound strong and sure. You wanted him to believe every word, even though you knew there was no truth to it. You did care. You cared so much it hurt physically.
“So what are you gonna do, then? Just walk in there, guns blazing? Hope you can take out a few demons before Crowley puts you out of your misery?” If he had been hurt by the words you had said, he wasn’t showing it.
You blinked against the tears a few times; the grip of your left hand tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m going to give him the tablet.” You pulled the phone away from your face and quickly hit ‘End’ before tossing it back on the passenger seat beside you.
-----
You weren’t sure how long it had been, exactly. You couldn’t be sure how many times you had lost consciousness at this point, but it was certainly more than once. You blinked against the darkness; your hands still secured behind your back. The ropes were still tied firmly around your ankles, making it impossible for you to budge.
Eyes closed tightly, you tried to remember what had happened—how you had gotten here. You were certain you could’ve used the tablet as leverage. Crowley would accept the tablet and in return, he would release you and your family—unharmed, back to normal.
“Ah, she’s awake,” a bright light snapped on overhead—it blinded you for a moment. You blinked against it, aggressively squinting to make out Crowley and two men in suits. Your jaw tightened as you struggled against the ropes on your wrists. Bile crept from the pit of your stomach up towards your esophagus; it burned the base of your throat. “Morning, Sunshine.”
“Where are they?” You found your voice. You were disappointed by how weak it sounded. You had been hurt—you could feel the leftover gashes in your skin. Your face felt tight, so you knew there had to be dried blood there.
Crowley looked around the warehouse as he played dumb. “Who? Mummy and Daddy? Your baby sister?” He asked coyly. You grinded your teeth, your jaw ached from the pain. It wasn’t even the physical pain. The pain in your chest as you assumed the worst about your family.
“Y/N?” You heard a soft voice come from behind you. Crowley took six steps towards you and strongly lifted your chair to turn you towards the voices. There in front of you were three different racks, of sorts. You imagined these were like the racks in Hell—the racks that Dean had described in painful detail one night when you both had gotten carried away drinking.
On the first one, your father. His arms pulled back to each corner of the rack; his legs tied in the same fashion at the bottoms of the rack—spread out like an ‘X’. His head was down, and you knew he was unconscious. Blood dripped from his head—a pool of crimson red forming below him on the concrete floor. He had wounds all over his body. You couldn’t make out what was cut versus blood from other injuries.
On the second, your mother. She seemed to be awake, but barely. Her eyes were tiny slits—squinting towards you. You swallowed past the lump in your throat as you realized she was trying to determine if you were real or just a figment of her imagination. Blood caked her hair—it had already matted in places. Her body was leaning forward, pulling her away from the rack. Your eyes were drawn to her wrists, which were being cut by the cuffs around them as gravity pulled her body forward.
And then the third rack—the rack with your baby sister. She was only two years younger than you, but you still referred to her as your baby sister. She was the one who had called your name out. She, too, was strung up just like your parents. But her core muscles allowed her to hold herself up. You could tell she was terrified—the panic made her arms move and pull at the cuffs holding her against the rack. She writhed against the metal. It made the bile bubbling like boiling acid in your stomach unavoidable. In a quick motion, you leaned to your right and your entire body heaved.
Crowley looked down at the floor, a grimace pulled over his face. And in one quick motion, his hand slapped across your face. It was such a hard slap, you were certain you had the outline of a handprint in its wake. “You dumb bitch, you yakked on my shoes!”
Your eyes glazed over; you didn’t care about the pain, or the smell of the bile. You couldn’t get past the smell of blood, and the way your sister looked at you. “Y/N,” she repeated, this time she choked out a sob. “W-What’s happening?”
Before you could speak, Crowley moved towards her. “Your sister,” he started as he paced in front of her rack. “…let’s just say she has poor decision-making skills. She had a choice,” he glanced back at you as he continued. “And she chose a Moose and a Squirrel.”
Your sister looked confused, and you didn’t blame her. You closed your eyes and dropped your head, but only for a moment. Your memories began to come back. “Crowley, I gave you the tablet! What more do you want from me?” You sounded desperate, but you couldn’t help it.
In just a few swift steps, Crowley was back in front of you. The breeze from his speed made you blink as he held onto the armrests of your chair and leaned as close to your face as possible without touching. “I WANTED THE WINCHESTERS!” He screamed.
You couldn’t help but close your eyes again. “They aren’t coming!” You screamed back. “I told you, I came here alone.”
Crowley stepped back once more and it was then that you realized he had a blade in his hand. “And that’s why we’re here, puppet. That’s why we’re all here. Mummy, Daddy, little sister…”
Your eyes were glued to him as he walked slowly—so slowly, you felt like he could almost be moving backwards. It sounded so far away as you heard your sister scream. Was he really walking that slowly, or was your mind playing tricks on you? Your sister just kept screaming over and over again—blood curdling. You realized your eyes had glazed over again and you weren’t even seeing clearly. And that was when one of Crowley’s pawns put his hands on your head and turned it towards where Crowley stood in front of your sister.
You watched. He took the blade in his hand and drove it straight into her gut—her eyes were widened in horror, her mouth agape. Blood began to slowly flood her mouth and drip down to the floor. Her body was no longer able to hold her against the rack, and she fell forward—only caught by cuffs that wrapped her wrists and ankles.
“You can thank your big sis for that,” Crowley muttered loud enough for you to hear. In a swift movement, he twisted the blade completely until her head fell forward and you knew she was gone. He pulled the blade out and with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, he wiped it down. “Are we having fun yet?” He turned back to you with an evil smile spread across his lips.
Your heart pounded so hard against the wall of your chest, you were certain it would thump right out of your body. But yet you wouldn’t scream. You couldn’t move. For the first time in a long time, there were no heroes. There was no saving.
One by one, Crowley made it down the line. Putting your family out of their misery. You winced with each slice—you believed something in you to be broken, as you couldn’t get out a reaction. But then you realized your face was wet, and you thought you could hear your own voice echoing off of the concrete walls of the warehouse. Maybe you were screaming, after all.
And finally, Crowley sauntered over to you. Your eyes felt heavy—like you were tired. You summed it up to a combination of the blood loss and watching your entire family be slaughtered while you sat there, unable to move.
You closed your eyes as he stood in front of you. You waited…would there be pain? Was there really a bright light? Would a Reaper come for you?
Crowley cleared his throat in front of you, causing you to open your eyes. “Here’s the deal, love,” he looked down into your eyes. “I’m going to let you sit here and stew in your own juices. I want you to feel the pain…just watching your family’s meat suits rot. And when the Winchesters inevitably show up, you tell them Crowley would like a word.” He whispered the last part so close to your ear it made the hair stand up on the back of your neck. With a snap of his fingers, he disappeared into thin air.
And so you sat there.
Screams fell from your lips, but there was no one around to hear. Your eyes were forced to look at the bodies—this blood was on you. Your family’s blood was on you. You couldn’t save them. You could pray to Cas, but you didn’t want to. You hoped more than anything you had ever hoped for before that your blood would seep out onto the concrete floor around you, and a Reaper would come for you. Maybe you’d get lucky and it would be Tessa. She seemed pleasant…for a Reaper, anyway.
You closed your eyes. It was better than the alternative.
-------
You blinked. Once, twice…three times. Voices, you heard voices again. You had come to accept that it was your mind playing tricks on you—hallucinations, you assumed. Probably from the blood loss.
“Hey, Y/N…you hear me?” Someone was in your face. Your hallucinations were…touching you? That didn’t seem right. Then again, you had never been on the edge of death before. So you guessed it could be possible. “Sammy, she’s waking up.”
The Winchesters? You were on the brink of death and your mind decided to hallucinate the Winchesters?
Your eyes were thin slits at this point—sunken in. Your hair was matted with blood, but you felt their hands on your face, your head, your torso. Someone—Sam, you thought—had his fingers working quickly on your wrists.
“Go…away…” you muttered in between raspy breaths. You tasted blood—you weren’t sure if it was from a strand of hair that had slipped in between your lips, or if you had internal bleeding that was making its way up your throat. You didn’t care.
“Y/N, stay with me, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” Dean said as he tried to keep eye contact with you. “Cas!” He practically growled. He looked up to the ceiling—waiting.
A bright light surrounded you in the room—standing before you was Cas, trench coat and all. Your eyes lulled back again, you anticipated to pass out once more. You felt arms around your middle and your head cradled in a shoulder—you knew that shoulder. It belonged to Dean.
“Fix her…please,” you felt the rumble in his chest as the words fell from his lips. You knew you weren’t lucid, but you could have sworn you sensed a hint of begging. The Dean Winchester you knew didn’t beg.
“Don’t,” even in your haze, the word slipped between your lips.
“Y/N,” Cas approached you carefully. His eyes moved over you as he assessed the damage. “If I do not heal you, you will die.”
You remained silent. Cas looked between you and Dean. “Cas!” Dean barked once more.
Within seconds, the light was brightening around you—blinding you. You squinted against it. You willed your body to writhe away from him and fall on the nearest blade. But it was too late.
The physical pain suddenly began to fade until it was gone. No open wounds, no more seeping blood. “Her injuries are healed,” Cas explained. “But it will take some time for her blood levels to normalize.” You noticed there was still ringing in your ears, and you felt a bit dizzy. But all things considered, it could have been so much worse. But that made your heart sink.
“Fuck you, Dean,” you muttered as you shoved with all the strength you had at his chest.
“Y/N,” he breathed, his eyes closed for a second. You moved to stand but felt lightheaded. In trying to find your way back to your seat, you almost fell. Dean caught you just before you hit the ground. “Alright, Speed Demon. Take it easy.” With one arm around your back, he dipped the other behind your knees as he lifted you bridal-style. “Dean Winchester, put me down right now,” you muttered through gritted teeth.
“I can throw you over my shoulder, if you want,” he smirked. The smirk…you wanted to slap it off of his face. It took everything in you not to.
“Put…me…down,” your teeth were so gritted now you thought they might break. “I’m not kidding, Dean.” You shoved at his chest and managed to wiggle from his grasp. He held his hands up in defeat. You slowly made your way to the exit of the building and realized it had started to rain.
The gravel was wet. You were thankful it was gravel, your shoes seemed to grip it a bit better. One slow step at a time, you passed the Impala and just kept walking. The darkness was overwhelming as you moved away from the yellow street light positioned just outside the warehouse and kept moving. You didn’t know where you were going. As soon as you hit grass, you fell to your knees. A bubble formed in the pit of your stomach; you felt it roll up your body until it rumbled out of your mouth as a sob.
Your face was wet—a mixture of tears and rain. You heard the gravel shift behind you and knew he was there. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, your knees soaking through from the wet grass.
He didn’t say anything, he just kneeled directly beside you. You saw his head duck as he tried to capture his thoughts.
“Y/N—” you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else.
“Shove it, Dean,” you cut him off, your words bitter. “Nothing you say…” you mumbled in between sobs. “…nothing you say can fix this.”
He cleared his throat. “I know that,” his voice was a little louder as the rain pelted down around you. The droplets bounced angrily off of the metal roof behind you. He stayed silent. The rain inspired you to pour everything out.
“If you and Sam had come with me,” you shook your head as the tears continued to fall. “It just…we could have stopped Crowley, Dean! We could have done it! Every, fucking hunt you find—I follow you blindly.” You didn’t mean for your words to sound as angry as they did; or maybe you meant every emotion behind them. You didn’t care. “Every time, Dean. I never ask any questions. I trust you and I go.”
Silence.
The only sound that filled your ears was the continued fall of the rain, and your heavy sobs. You managed to turn your head to look at him. You couldn’t be certain, but his face was covered with water—was he…crying?
You had never seen Dean Winchester cry, so you really didn’t know what to make of it. Before you could do or say anything, you felt a sadness in your heart. But it wasn’t from having witnessed your family be brutally murdered before your eyes…no, that was a feeling of despair; the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. This was sadness. Sadness for your friend—the man you had grown to care for, though he didn’t know it.
“Dean,” you started. You were mad at yourself—you were supposed to be pissed off at this man sitting next to you. You should have been seeing red. But you couldn’t. You had to make sure he was okay.
“Y/N, I am so…so sorry,” he breathed out as he wiped at his face. He tried to rid his face of the tears and the rain drops as they mixed together. “I thought that we had time. I thought we could…” he trailed off as you watched his eyes move over the strands of grass in front of you as he searched for the words. “…come up with a plan. I had no idea this would happen.”
Silence again, your eyes closed as more tears slipped through your eyelids. “Of course, you didn’t know,” you finally breathed out. Desperation set in as you realized this wasn’t Dean’s fault. You wanted someone to blame; you didn’t know what to do, what to say, where to go. “I don’t have anywhere to go anymore. My family is gone; I have no one.” The words fell from your lips as quickly as they entered your brain—you hadn’t even realized you were talking out loud until Dean moved on his knees until he was in front of you and his hands were on either side of your face.
You felt the calloused pads of his thumbs swipe under your burning eyes, his wrists moved to lift your gaze to meet his. “You have us, Y/N. You have…you have me,” he said so softly you weren’t sure you had heard him. “We will always be your family. Always, do you hear me?”
Your eyes scrunched closed as you cried. You brought your hands up to his and held on for dear life. You were grasping at anything at this point; it felt as though you were drowning.
“I can’t do this anymore, Dean,” you mumbled as you slowly opened your eyes to look at him—desperation.
He swallowed and nodded as he pulled his hands back. “I understand if you don’t want to stay with us,” he nodded, like he was trying to convince himself that he truly understood.
“No, Dean…this. Life, how am I supposed to even keep going?” Had you heard yourself speak this way a day ago, you would have been disgusted with yourself and how weak you sounded. But it was different now, and you didn’t care.
“Listen to me,” he reached for your face again—his eyes bore into yours. “It’s not easy, and I get that. The shitty part about life and what we do, is that we lose people. It happens way too often, and it never gets easier,” he said firmly. “But what you’re gonna do is come back to the bunker, get some rest and let us help you.”
The tears continued to fall—at this point, you had no idea how there were any tears left. But you were too tired and weak to fight him. Dean was too strong to fight when you were operating at one hundred percent; there was no way you could fight him now.
His eyes moved between yours as he studied your features. When he realized there was no longer resistance, he stood up from his spot on the grass and leaned down. He scooped you up into his arms—one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees. The exhaustion was overpowering as your head hit his shoulder and you closed your eyes. The rain continued to beat against your hot flesh.
Sam opened the passenger door to the Impala while Dean helped you sit up. He grabbed your keys and tossed them to Sam. After closing your door, he had a few words with Sam before getting in the driver’s side. There were no words; just the hum of the engine as Dean drove you back to the bunker.
-----
Back at the bunker, numbness had set in. You had always heard of the Stages of Grief, but you never imagined going through them.
You felt tears bubble again; dammit. You hated crying—everything about it. The emotion, in general, but then also the congestion, the swollen eyes, the overall puffiness in your face. Dean had you on the edge of the bed facing the wall of your room in the bunker, he had just kneeled down in front of you. His eyes looked over your face and you could tell: Dean Winchester was trying to fix you. But there was no fixing this unless he found away to reverse time or bring your family back.
“Hey,” he breathed. His thumb ran small circles over your denim covered knee. “Listen, I know you’re going through it right now…” he trailed off. “But you’ve gotta get out of those wet clothes. You’re cold, you gotta get changed.” You could tell his brain was picking each word so carefully, which wasn’t very Dean Winchester-esque.
You hadn’t realized you were cold until you noticed your body was physically shaking. “I don’t care.” You breathed.
“Dammit, Y/N,” he muttered and stood up. His jaw tightened as he tried to control his frustration. He rubbed his hand over his face as he paced around your bedroom, one hand in his jean’s pocket, the other over his mouth, resting on his chin.
“I’m too tired, Dean. I just…I can’t,” you begged the tears to stop falling, but your body wasn’t listening. He turned back to you and you could see the sadness wash over his features.
“Well, will you let me help you?” He asked, calmer now as he realized you were just mentally and physically done.
You shuddered at the thought, but this time it wasn’t from the chill of the air on your wet clothes. This was something much deeper; something that had developed months ago but you had worked so hard to push out of your heart. You didn’t have the will to fight it anymore. You nodded carefully, a small nod—but you had been sure he had seen it.
His eyes watched yours and he nodded; he moved towards the dresser and retrieved a pair of pajama pants and an over-sized hoodie. He brought them back to the bed and cleared his throat. You could tell he was trying to keep this as professional as possible—he just wanted to take care of you. Dean put his hand out in front of you and you carefully took it. He helped pull you to your feet so you were standing just in front of him.
“Arms up,” he whispered. You brought your arms up to about your shoulders and winced, a slight pain on your left side just under your breast. Concern covered his face as his forehead creased. “You alright?” He pulled up your shirt and identified the culprit—there was a pretty solid bruise just under your bra. “Dammit, Cas healed you…” he seemed worried.
“To be fair,” you breathed. “There were a lot of injuries to heal. One healing session might not have cut it.”
He nodded in agreement and carefully continued to help you pull off your shirt. You had forgotten that you would be standing in front of Dean with your bra fully visible. The thought made your cheeks flush with warmth as you avoided eye contact. He cleared his throat again—clearly a bit uncomfortable himself. He reached for your hoodie and slid the arms on first before pulling it over your head.
You managed a small smile as your head popped through the hole at the top of the hoodie. “Thanks, Dean.” Your words were soft, and for a moment he thought he didn’t hear you correctly.
“Don’t thank me…” his eyes moved between yours again. “I am just…Y/N, I’ll never stop being sorry.” You could see the pain in his eyes; the guilt.
“Dean, I had no right to blame you,” you shook your head. There they were again—the fucking tears. And that’s when it hit you; it all hit you square in the face. You had been so hurt when Dean wouldn’t go, because you trusted him blindly—because you loved him. You loved him, and you wanted him to love you—to trust you.
“You alright?” He watched your eyes as you contemplated all of this.
You nodded and swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I just…” you hesitated; you weren’t brave enough to confess your findings to Dean. But then again, your mind went back to your family…your loved ones. If you had learned anything tonight, it was that life is short and time is fast—and Dean had even been the one to say it; we lose people. You decided against your better judgment and just went for it. “I think I blamed you because I trusted you, and I wanted you to trust me.”
Dean had his hands on your face once more. “I do trust you, Y/N—”
You cut in before he could finish. “No, I know. But I realized I trust you so much because…because I love you.” Your eyes found his yet again. They darted quickly between his green orbs to try and get a sense for what he was thinking. But you couldn’t read him; you couldn’t tell what was happening in his brain. “And…and I wanted you to love me, too.” You prayed it didn’t sound as pathetic as it felt coming off of your lips; but, no regrets. You didn’t want to regret anything, not after tonight.
Without another word, his lips were on yours. They moved against you feverishly; it was as though he had yearned for this moment just as much as you had, if not more. One hand remained on your cheek, steadying you. The other moved to your hip and slipped under your hoodie, gently grasping onto the warm skin on your lower back to pull you closer.
He pulled back and you felt your chest heave as you came up for air. His eyes danced over yours again, this time reflecting a glint of…hope? Affection, maybe? Passion? You couldn’t be certain.
But then he licked his lips, his eyes traveled between your eyes and your now swollen lips. “I love you, too.” He murmured before his lips slowly caressed yours once more.
And in that moment, you felt whole again.
-------------------
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I meant to finish this yesterday, but the episode last night about broke me in two and I couldn’t write. Please let me know your thoughts!! My reading requests are open (submit via the Ask Me! link on my page). Please re-blog, like, etc.! All mistakes made in this are my own, please don’t re-post anywhere off of Tumblr :)
xx S
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April Fools | Harry Holland
Summary: A prank goes wrong, and you get hurt. 
Request: @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven Hey, could you maybe write a Harryx Reader where shes his gf and lives with the boys. And they tried to prank her for April fools, but it kinda ended with her hurting her head (not too dramatic though) and the boys apologise and Harry becomes a protective, bc he wasn't a fan of the idea in first place and maybe just some fluff?? Thank youu😊 
Word Count: 1.8k
Masterlist
A/N: Hopefully this is what you pictured when you requested! Please feel free to send any others to my inbox.
Having grown up around the Holland boys, and now dating one, you were aware that April Fools was a dangerous and unpredictable as they all attempted to outdo each other in a bid to be crowned the best prankster. You knew that when you woke up on April 1st that anything could come your way, so you tried to stay clear of anything that was an obvious prank idea. You didn't shower or wash your hair, afraid that the water or hair products would have been tampered with. Instead, you opted for a shower where you had clear control over everything. You locked the door to prevent your boyfriend from trying to scare you. You made sure that Harry had brushed his teeth with the toothpaste before using it yourself, and even opted for ordering uber eats for breakfast in order to prevent anything unpleasant turning up in your food. 
Harry had already fallen victim to salt in his tea, whilst Tom was the unlucky bugger who ended up with dye in his shower. Harrison had been awoken with a bucket of water over his head, Tuwaine’ s underwear had been stolen and hidden. Therefore, the only person who hadn't been pranked yet was you. You were very wary and hid behind Harry at every given opportunity, you didn't eat or drink anything that you hadn't made yourself. 
As the day grew on and the number of pranks grew, you were still yet to be pranked. The fans were enjoying the content that was being posted to Instagram, every prank being posted to their respected to accounts. You spent a lot of the day in Harry's bedroom, or in the garden. You hid away, not wanting to fall victim to any of their cruel pranks. You knew, however, that the later the day went on, the more elaborate the pranks would be. You knew that the boys would begin to collaborate, doing whatever they needed to ensure that you didn't survive the fateful day without a prank being bestowed upon you. 
When you hesitantly made your way to the kitchen, in order to get yourself a snack, you made sure that all corners were free of lurking boys by using your compact mirror to check before you would walk around. As you put the kettle on and grabbed yourself a bag of crisps from out of the cupboard, you suddenly felt as though you were being watched, your uneasy feeling was quickly proven correct when the four boys you were living with jumped out from behind a variety of different doors, walls and furniture. Each boy was holding a bucket filled with what you assumed were water balloons. 
Instantly, you ducked, grabbing your crisps and hiding behind the island that stood in the middle of the kitchen. Luckily for you the boys had horrific aim and were useless at trying to hit you with their balloons. Unfortunately for you, there were four of them and only one of you, you knew that they would try and corner you. Quickly calculating your route, you made a dash towards Harry, you knew he was the one you would be most likely to get past without soaking you. He held the camera that filmed what was happening, you ducked and dodged as the three older boys threw water balloons your way. 
The ground around you was now a perfect slip hazard but you managed to make it to yours and Harry's room without a single drop of water landing on your clothing. You locked the door behind you, now clear that you weren't going to exit the room unless absolutely necessary. You decided that you would spend the rest of the day inside the safety of the room that had no other entrance other than the door or the window, but both were locked. You then went on to watch Netflix, scrolling through your phone and generally doing very little. 
As the day grew towards the evening, you began to grow hungry. Having not been able to have the snack that you had needed earlier on in the day, you knew that if you didn't get some food soon, you would begin to feel unwell. You opened the door and checked both ways before exiting the room; you were still hesitant, but you needed food now. 
It was when you were walking down the stairs that it finally happened. As you were about a quarter of the way down the stairs something jumped out at you. A clown face appeared at the bottom of the stairs, it made a sudden and loud noise that caused you to look up and scream. You had never been a fan of clowns and seeing as you had watched the second IT movie just two days prior, you were rather jumpy at that given time. You let out a blood-curdling scream and soon lost your footing. 
The water that had been on the floor from the earlier water fight caused you to slip in your panic. You went down like a sack of potatoes, your foot that had most of your weight on, flew out from beneath you. As you fell down the stairs, the back of your head hit against the step. When your body had finally reached where the clown was stood at the bottom of stairs, there was silence for a second. 
You groaned and lifted your hand to the back of your head. Luckily, there was no blood which caused you to sigh in relief. You then looked up at the four boys who now stood in front of you. All of them looked solemn and regretful. The one rule that Nikki had set in place with the prank extravaganza was that no one was allowed to get hurt. As soon as an injury occurred, the day of pranks would come to an end. 
"You fucking idiot." Harry's voice was clearly angry as he leaned down to scoop you up in his arms. He carried you to the sofa in the living room before ordering whoever had been wearing the mask to get you an ice pack. Your eyes were closed as you felt a dull headache starting. You were sure that it was nothing, but you had a tendency to get headaches. "You ok darling? I'm so sorry that you got hurt." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Snatching the ice pack from the still masked boy's hand, he placed it to the back of your head. Slowly, you opened your eyes and looked into your boyfriend's eyes. He smiled at you, but it was clear that he was worried. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. 
"I'm ok, really." Your tone was sincere, trying to reassure him that you were fine. "Whose bright idea was it anyway?" You looked at the three older boys, you raised an eyebrow at them expecting someone to own up. 
"It was me Y/N. I'm really sorry, we just wanted to scare you, we didn't mean to hurt you." Harrison's voice sounded genuinely sorry and you smiled at him to relieve the guilt. 
"In Harrison's defence though, we did tell Tom to clear up the water from the water balloons. I mean we literally said to him that it could cause an accident." Tuwaine shot a severe look to the superhero. You were not only Harry's girlfriend, but you were also viewed as a little to sister to the older boys. Tom tried to stutter out an excuse but was quickly shut down. 
"We're really sorry Y/N, I hope you’re not too badly hurt." You could tell Harrison felt extremely guilty, he had been the one wearing the mask and had seen the fall most clearly. You swung your legs over the sofa and went to stand up to give Harrison a reassuring hug, but as you put weight onto your foot, you let out a sharp gasp and quickly sat back down. Harry was by your side instantly, asking you what was wrong. 
"It's fine, I'm fine," You tried to smile through it in hopes that Harrison wouldn't feel any worse, "I think I've sprained my ankle. It's the same foot." You looked at Harry, he knew of a previous sports injury that you acquired when you were younger and since then you had injured the same ankle multiple times since. Harry threw a pillow at his older brother in anguish. 
"You absolute dickheads. I told you that this wasn't a fair prank. I said that she'd get hurt. We all know how jumpy she's been and now she's got a bump on her head and re-injuring her ankle. Well done indeed, round of applause. " The sarcasm and harshness dripped from Harry's voice.  You leant into him and reached for the ice pack. You placed it onto your ankle, certain that it needed more tending to than your head. 
"Is there anything you need?" Harrison kneeled down in front of you, his hand going to your ankle to massage it.  
"Well I was coming down for food. I mean, I didn't get to eat my snack or drink my tea earlier sooooo I'm ravenous." You looked at the blue-eyed boy and smiled at him, he laughed then and nodded. Heading to the kitchen and returning a few seconds later with a tube of pringles and informing you he had put the kettle on. 
"Well, as Tom was the one who was unable to clean up the water that let's face it, caused the prank to take a dark turn. I say, he pays for dominoes." Harry looked from you towards his brother, a look of such anger on his face that Tom whipped out his phone instantly and asked what people wanted. 
With the injury meaning the end of the pranks for the day, you were finally able to relax. The boys waited on you hand on foot, letting you pick the movie, you were allowed the last slices of pizza, you got to pick the Ben and Jerry's ice cream flavour, you picked the sides. Harry carried you everywhere and Harrison was making you a mug of tea at every opportunity, he was giving your foot massages. Your headache left you soon after you had eaten, and you showed no other signs of concussion. 
When Harry had lowered you to the mattress after brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed, you sighed and sunk into the pillow behind you. Harry ran around to his side of the bed, he quickly got under the duvet and pulled you into his body. He pressed a kiss to your head before placing another to your lips. His fingers ran through your hair, knowing it soothed you and helped you sleep. 
"I'm so sorry about today love." Your boyfriend's voice was quiet as he muttered the words into your hair. 
"It's ok my lovely, but next time, we're pranking the other boys. Together." You looked up at him as he smiled, you leaned up to press one last kiss to his lips. You sighed as you pulled away and leant back into his chest. Together you drifted off to sleep, his fingers still combing through your hair. 
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this and that it fulfilled your request! As I said, please feel free to send any other ideas to my inbox!
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lununnunna · 4 years
Text
Waterworks || Dabi x Reader
angst in which you dont realize dabi physically cannot cry bc his mf tearducts out here like *burnt*
(again idk how 2 shorten my posts :( so apologies in advance) ((also couldnt stop thinking abt how dabi fr out here like ugly crying wo the tears i had an itch to write the angst))
part two
most times it made you lovingly roll your eyes. other times it made you laugh. but lately, dabis nonchalant and rather apathetic demeanor was weighing on you.
youve yet to see him cry, even when you two have your arguments and little bicker-fests, as any normal couple has. hes never cried, only yelled, or flashed bitter smiles and dark laughs. it unsettled you. hes never once shed a single tear, not even for your sake.
you began to question if he really loved you as much as you did, him.
surely if he loved you, he would cry in relief for your safety, or in sympathy for something that upset you, right?
you ultimately supposed he wouldnt really be one to cry to begin with, but what of that time you were followed home and nearly kidnapped? assaulted? he had merely burned them to ash for you, and carried you inside as you sobbed into his shoulder. he hadnt even done so much as comment; no whispers of relief, no ‘i love you’s, nothing to show you he was glad you were okay save for the kisses to your head and rubs on your back until you fell asleep. at the time, you felt he was focused on consoling you, and assumed he just didnt want you to know he was worried.
but now, you wondered if he even really cared.
a part of you told you you were being ridiculous, that he had to care if he was still with you, to bother saving you to begin with— but the hurt in your heart and concern in your head spoke louder, and drowned out any reason.
and so, here you found yourself, anxiety bubbling in the pit of your stomach and rising like bile into your throat. you had confronted him on the matter, only to be brushed off, irritating you until it had led to another petty argument.
you swallowed.
you wanted the truth, and you wanted it bad. you desperately needed to know what you truly meant to him. surely, if he cared, this would stir him, right? this would have to invoke some sort of feeling in him, right?
tears stinging your eyes, throat tightening and suddenly feeling dryer than the sahara desert, you spoke, voice trembling.
“i.. im leaving.”
he fixed you with his sharp, icy gaze.
“what?” he gritted out through clenched teeth.
“i said im leaving. we’re— we’re over. we should break up.”
you watched his reaction carefully, watching the way the muscles in his jaw flexed and tightened, before relaxing and a low chuckle escaped from the back of his throat. he ran a hand through his hair, scoffing.
he glanced over to you once more.
“you dont mean that, doll. look, lets just put this behind us. you know i love you, so give it a rest, yeah? lets just watch a movie.”
you could hear the irritation threatening to leak into his voice. your brows furrowed into a frown.
“do i? do i know you love me? because from where im standing, im not feeling it. i meant what i said. i think itd be for the best if we at least took a break.”
he was silent after that. you could see the anger brewing behind those oceanic eyes you fell in love with, staring at you, trying to read you, as if he thought if he stared long enough, hed be able to see and understand what you were thinking; feeling, and why.
you trembled. you wouldnt be able to hold back the tears much longer.
you took a deep, shaky breath.
“goodbye, dabi.”
he didnt say anything. he didnt say anything as you walked away, slipping on your shoes at the door. he only watched, frozen in place, mind racing with a million thoughts at once. dont forget your coat, he wanted to say. its cold out. its dark. stay safe, baby. call me the moment you feel scared or threatened.
but his body wouldnt respond. he felt numb, watching your retreating figure slip behind the door, the soft click of the doorknob suddenly sounding so much louder in his head.
he was trembling violently, anger and despair crashing over him in suffocating waves.
everything felt so fucking surreal. he felt like it was a dream, it wasnt real, you were only kidding, you were only testing him, you didnt mean it, youd be back tomorrow, kissing him and hugging him and gracing him with your sweet voice talking about anything and everything and nothing in particular.
but he knew.
he knew it wasnt a joke. it was real. you were gone, and he didnt stop you.
and that pissed him off to all fucking hell.
he snapped, letting out a scream of rage, bellowing into the empty apartment, knees buckling under the weight of his broken heart. fists and fire met anything he could come into contact to, wrecking the living room as his screams and shouts tore through his throat, desperate to be heard.
he wanted to cry. he wanted to cry, to chase after you, to wrap you in his arms and kiss you like there would be no tomorrow. he hated himself.
he fucking hated himself.
he wanted to burn the entire building down in his rage and sorrow, to burn the entire world so youd have no choice but to run to him. but he knew that was wrong. he couldnt control you— if you didnt want to be with him anymore, who was he to stop you? he doesnt want to be with him either.
yet here he is, all alone, caving, curling into himself as he dropped to the ground, the apartment thoroughly wrecked. stuck with nobody but himself and his overwhelming devastation. his face twisted in what could only be described as pain, scrunching and folding in on itself. he was bleeding. he must have popped a staple when he was screaming, but he didnt care, not even as they pulled and tugged ever so painfully as he choked on another shout of anguish.
there he sat, a pathetic being in the middle of the life he made for himself.
there he sat, sobbing tearlessly as the boy who couldnt cry.
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madmeridian · 3 years
Note
hm, idk if this is exactly wild, but maybe an atla au?? for meronia??
ahahahahaha okay i was so fucking excited about this i accidentally wrote a 1,900ish word fic... oops. i hope you like it! i kinda just made it in the atla universe and not like a direct fusion bc i got this idea for it. also italics are flashbacks and non italics are present day! okay pls enjoy 
“Near? I’m heading out for work.” 
There was no response for a second and Mello nearly thought that Near wasn’t going to respond, but he rounded the corner just as Mello took a half-step out the door. The restless night had left Near exhausted and Mello hoped he’d at least go back to sleep after. 
“I’ll see you when you get home,” Near murmured, not quite looking at him. 
“Take it easy today.” Mello held his arms out, inviting, and Near stepped into them without hesitation. 
“I can’t,” Near said. Mello could practically hear the grimace in his voice. “I have orders to fill.” 
Near hadn’t been particularly interested in any of the work Ba Sing Se had to offer, considering most of it was either customer service or construction work. But people in the Middle Ring, as well as a few from the Upper Ring, had taken a liking to his craftwork, so he’d started his own little business. 
“At least get a nap in.” Mello kissed Near’s forehead. “Promise me.” 
“I’ll try,” was all Near offered before he walked away, leaving Mello in the doorway alone. 
The streets of the city were busy, as they usually were in the mornings, especially where they lived. Mello walked through them silently. The people who had come to know him greeted him cheerfully and asked after Near. 
When they’d first met him, Mello had been cold to them, suspicious. After all, he didn’t want them to know that there were two fugitives in their midst and he couldn’t give anything away. If they were found, they were dead. 
Though they were still on edge, Mello and Near had warmed up to the people, mainly after discovering they were mostly harmless. Not to mention, they hadn’t seen their own pictures in any of the wanted signs around Ba Sing Se. 
“Get some more sleep, you looked exhausted,” one of their neighbors called to him jokingly. Mello feigned a smile and nodded. Near had been struggling with nightmares since they’d arrived at Ba Sing Se and as long as he wasn’t sleeping, Mello wasn’t either. He couldn’t let him suffer alone, not when it was partially his fault. 
-----
Mello was certainly not a fan of the freezing temperatures, cold wind whipping against his face. Similarly, his fellow Fire Nation soldiers shivered and groaned, though all of them fell silent when their commander walked past. 
The Southern Water Tribe, diminished as it was, still had capable waterbenders, and it was their mission to capture or kill them. Mello had been on plenty of raids before, but never to either of the water tribes. He was interested to see how well they would fare against the Fire Nation. 
Judging by the mass scrambling that was going on when the ship came close enough to the Tribe, it didn’t seem like things were going to go all that well for them. 
Mello ignored the feeling of guilt that was creating a pit in his stomach. Part of him had always abhorred the raids, the pain they brought on others, but he was a soldier and pity had no place in him.
Screams began to rise up when the ship finally docked and a flood of soldiers descended on the Tribe. 
-----
Mello shook the memory away and focused on what he was doing. None of the retail jobs would hire him, apparently because he was too intimidating to work with anyone, so he’d settled for construction. Though, he would have to admit, there was something therapeutic about hammering a nail into place. 
“Hey, come eat lunch with us,” one of the other workers called to him. “It’s break time, man.” 
 Part of him wanted to tell them to fuck off and leave him alone. But, that wouldn’t bode well for his job, nor for blending in. Things weren’t the same in Ba Sing Se as he was used to. Adapting had taken some getting used to, but he’d gotten good at being less rude. 
“Sure thing,” Mello said, plastering on a fake, polite face. “Just give me a few minutes to finish this up.” 
The others nodded, smiling at him with approval. Whether or not they liked him wasn’t really a concern of his, but it was smart to stay on their good side. Blend in. 
The last thing he needed was to get on someone’s bad side and get ratted out because of it. 
-----
“Please,” the white-haired man had said, holding out his hands. “I’ll tell you where the waterbenders are if you let them go.” The children in the corner cowered away from Mello, from his flaming hand, and the other that held a sword. 
“If you’re lying, I’ll kill you,” Mello sneered. Still, he waved the kids out. They ran, crying and yelling. The pit in his stomach made itself known again. “So, where are they?” 
“I don’t know where the others are,” the man began, “but I’m one. I only didn’t tell you because I’d thought you’d kill them.” To prove his point, he directed an arc of water in the air. Mello grabbed his arm and dragged him out. 
“That’s all I need to know,” he said through gritted teeth, wishing that the man hadn’t just given himself up like that. He’d seen the prisons and knew what happened to waterbenders. The guy would be executed or kept in a cage. 
Either way, his end would be miserable. 
-----
“You’re home late,” Near noted. Mello grunted and flopped down in a kitchen chair. 
“I got kept up by my coworkers,” he said, watching as Near poured him a cup of tea. “They’re a talkative bunch and I’m trying not to be rude to them.” 
“You, trying not to be rude?” Near asked, raising an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done to my Mello?”
“Oh shut up,” Mello huffed. “I’d imagine if they liked me, they wouldn’t report me if they saw my face on a wanted poster.”
“That’s smart.” Near gave him the tiniest bit of a smirk. “And maybe if you’re less mean you’ll actually be able to get a job at a shop instead.”
“Please, as if you’d be able to. You’re just as bad as I am.” 
“Hardly. Now come on, you promised me a game of Pai Sho.” 
-----
“You’re telling me, out of all of you, only one waterbender was captured,” the commander shouted. “One! It’s pathetic. It’s a fucking disgrace. Keehl, you’re excused for now. Go guard your prisoner. The rest of you will stay here.” 
Mello was more than happy to escape the scene, the commander’s anger boiling in the air. It was all luck that he was the only one to have caught a waterbender. 
Said waterbender watched him with wide gray eyes as he approached the cell. He didn’t seem at all fazed by his capture, nor his captor standing in front of him. 
Mello turned his back once he got to the cell, standing there as he’d been taught, straight back and searching eyes. 
“My name is Near,” the prisoner spoke up. Some were more talkative and some didn’t try. Mello hated the talkative ones. He was always sad to see them go. “I think you should at least tell me yours.” 
“And why’s that?” Mello asked quietly. 
“So when I go to prison, I can tell everyone about the man who caught me, in case one of them escapes and finds you one day. So they can get revenge for me,” Near said dryly. 
“Very convincing.” Mello paused, before looking down at the man for a brief second. “It’s Mello.”
“Did you do that to yourself or was that someone else?” Near pointed to Mello’s scar. “It looks like it hurt a lot when it happened.”
“Someone else,” Mello said gruffly. “And yeah, it hurt.” 
“I appreciate you not doing it to me.” Near offered quietly, “you don’t seem very evil. I thought you’d be much harder to talk to.”
“Don’t get too comfortable.” 
-----
“I win, again,” Near said smugly. Mello crossed his arms, glowering. 
“I’m almost certain that the only reason you ask to play this is solely to piss me off.” 
“Then you’re wrong. I play with you because you’re the only one who gets close enough to beat me. Mind you, you have won a few times.” 
“Yeah, yeah. I know that. I fucking hate losing though and you know that,” Mello grumbled. Then he yawned, stretching. “I’m exhausted.” 
Near was quiet for a moment, looking at Mello blankly, then frowning. 
“You shouldn’t have stayed up with me last night. You need sleep.” 
“You need sleep too and you fall back asleep better when I’m up too,” Mello argued. “Not to mention, it’s my fault. I’m gonna keep staying up with you.” 
“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” Near shot back, crossing his arms. 
“Come on, let’s just get some sleep,” Mello said, getting up and heading to the bedroom.
-----
The commander had made a huge mistake. He’d constantly put Mello on guard duty for Near, since the rest of the soldiers were doing grunt work they normally wouldn’t as punishment. 
And Mello had gotten… attached. More so than he usually did with prisoners. 
So, on his next shift, he’d carefully snuck the keys to the cell away. When he got to the cell, he crouched down low. Near tipped his head in curiosity. He’d smiled a bit, but his face was much more thin and gaunt than it had been. 
It made Mello’s heart ache in a way he didn’t quite understand. 
“You don’t have family in your tribe, right?” Mello already knew the answer, from their talks, but had to make sure.
“I told you I was an orphan,” Near said, a little crease forming between his brows. “Why?” 
“How do you feel about Ba Sing Se?” Mello whispered, holding out the keys. Near leaned forwards, grabbing the bars. A twist of disbelief and relief made his eyes widen. 
“Can we get off safely?” Near asked, one hand trembling, reaching out. 
“We dock in an hour and I know every inch of this ship. They won’t know we’re gone until my shift is over. Three hours after we’ll leave here.” 
Four hours later, the alarm bells sounded on the ship for their escaped prisoner. Neither Mello or Near were there to hear it. They were on their way to Ba Sing Se.
To freedom. 
-----
Mello had never been Near’s night guard, but he’d never heard anything about him having nightmares from the man who was. He’s not sure the man would’ve been able to tell. Mello is a light sleeper, luckily, so when Near starts to gasp and whimper, he wakes immediately. 
It happens like clockwork. Near has a nightmare, Mello wakes up, then Near does too, and then they sit there. Mello just waits for Near to calm and talk to him. Near’s told him several times that’s all he needs to do, is just give him a minute, and Mello is glad to. 
Near’s nightmares vary. Sometimes it’s the raid, playing over again in his head, his people’s blood staining the snow of his home. Other times, it’s on the ship, and Mello dies. They aren’t free and Near is sent to his grave too. And sometimes it’s incomprehensible, just horrors over and over.
Mello waits for Near to talk, smoothing his unruly hair back and holding him close. 
“I’m sorry,” Near whispers. He always says that, and Mello always says the same thing back. 
“Nothing to be sorry about, Near.” 
Near is quiet for another moment, leaning against Mello’s side and blinking slowly in the moonlight. His eyes almost look silver and Mello has to sort of bite his tongue to compliment them because he’s not sure it’s the best time to flirt. 
“Thank you for staying up with me,” Near says slowly. “I know I said you shouldn’t but… it helps.” 
“It’s what I’m here for. We’re in this together, Near.” Mello kisses Near’s forehead and hugs him tight. 
Mello sees the tiny smile Near tries to hide and smiles too, genuine for what felt like the first time that day.
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eagesoldartblog · 3 years
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@nemesis-is-my-middle-name
Congrats you set me off time to RAMBLE about this fucking au Bc I adore it
So small Cw: this is heavily based /inspired by madoka Magica, also demons! Idk, just felt like y’all should know that real quick- also, this has.. a sadder end :,)
So let’s start off!
Lewis pepper died in the cave, but rose soon after. Not because of him wanting to stay, nor wanting revenge. Infact, if he was left alone, he would have maybe returned as a ghost or simply passed on. But no, he’s awoken a few days later by a red spirit that resembles a cat, with hearts and a blank smile. Their name is Dellila! It explains that as Lewis died, he made a wish- to live again, to survive. So they granted it!
But, everything is at a cost, and Lewis is aware of this, he’s terrified at the thought because he can’t remember his wish. But Dellila reassures him, and explains the process of wish making.
Because of his wish, he was granted magical powers, and he now has one task to fulfill in order to have his wish fully granted. In order for his life to be returned to him, and be allowed to walk to earth as a human again, he must make use of his new power...
And get revenge.
Lewis is horrified by this, because they explain clearly. He has to confront his killer, take his life in order to regain his. And immediately, Lewis makes a plan that he keeps to himself. He doesn’t want revenge, if he can, he wants to find Arthur and learn why. Surely there’s a reason..! It must have been an accident! ... Arthur wasnt lying this whole time... was he?
Dellila doesn’t give him time to think about it, instead, they make him get up and explain why they grant these wishes. While yes- it is to fulfill a certain wish- the world is full of evil spirits and malicious specters that harm humans and spread evil. Lewis’s job for now, is to deal with any spirit that comes close, and obliterate them.
They help him transform for the first time, and show him how he can utilize his abilities to their full extent. How to summon weapons, how to create a pocket dimension around him (referred to as a  labyrinth and FULL of symbolism just wait), and how to transform into his magical form. Lewis goes through with it-
And he discovers very quickly how painful it is. Having strands of gold silk wrap around his limbs and burst into roses and gold flecks. His hair begins to resemble a rose, he takes on a uniform that is beautiful and elegant. And Lewis can’t stop himself from crying while doing so. It hurts. It feels wrong. But it doesn’t stop, and he forms his first labrynth. It’s an oddly shamed dome of stained glass, filled and layered with rose bushes, piano keys, violin strings. Giant knives and spikes and pillars that you would find in a temple rather than in this surreal place. To make it all the more creepy, the dome itself seems to resemble a rib cage, with stage curtains draping from it, and in the very center? A golden chandelier that one could only assume is the heart.
Last but not least, Dellila helps him form his special anchor. Something that contains his soul, a link to keep him grounded and help him control his powers. Under no circumstances should it be destroyed, nor should any spirit touch it- lest the damage it takes on will be inflicted on him.
He gets used to it though, and he sets off on dealing with any spirit he comes across- fighting against the empathy he feels because he doesn’t believe that the spirits are truly evil. Most of them run from him, and the few who do fight only do so when he provoked them. But time and time again, Lewis attacks, he fights, he wins...
And Dellila eats the remnants of those spirits. Encouraging him to keep going. He’s cleansing the world with every fight.
They wouldn’t lie to you, Lewis, remember that.
But on the other hand, some others are noticing what’s happening. Mystery and Vivi - Vivi who is herself a powerful yokai, made of ice- recognize the labrynth, they see the magical spirit fighting, and they know what’s happened. The demon of the cave captured another.
Because you see- there wasn’t just one demon in the cave they explored, the two knew this, and the wanted Arthur and Lewis to stay away and let them handle it. But they were foolish and tagged along anyway.
Now Arthur has no arm, and Lewis is dead. The green demon, who takes the form of fog and crawls onto the recesses of your mind to torment and torture you until you give in. And the red demon, who claims lives by feeding hope to their collective victim.
This isn’t the first time that the two yokai dealt with them, no... Vivi’s old friend was named Dellila, and she knows just how twisted it is for the bastard to take her friends name.
Lewis is in danger, and they have to save him, but they have to do it alone. Arthur can’t come. They tell him. Vivi makes sure he knows.
But Arthur doesn’t want them going on their own, he wants to save Lewis too! :)
Meanwhile, Vivi and Mystery are hunting the labrynth down. It isn’t hard, since Lewis’s attacks are near brutal and dramtic, and it’s easy to infiltrate. Instead of facing Lewis head on though? They try to sneak past him, to find his anchor. To find whats linking him to Dellila.
And Arthur is following behind, getting lost in the labrynth, but pushing through the curtains and bushes and searching for his friends-
And Arthur, the unluckiest man in the world, finds Lewis. At first Lewis doesn’t even notice him, exhausted after battling a wraith, but when Arthur calls out, Lewis is shocked, relieved! And for a moment, Lewis smiles and tries to leap down from the heart of the labrynth to hug his friend-
But before he could even mutter Arthurs name. Something changes. The gold and purples suddenly shift. The rose bushes become thorns, the giant knives sticking high above the ground become spikes- stalagmites! Fire begins to grow, and he’s trapped in the arena. Lewis’s smile is gone. His eyes, a deep, unforgiving red.
Dellila never told him, but Lewis never had a choice in how he would confront his killer.
Arthur gets to watch as the labrynth shifts and turns all on him, as weapons appear in Lewis’s hand, drawn and aimed directly at him-
But before Lewis could try to strike- he’s stopped by the love of his life, and her dog. And a battle breaks out. Lewis exploding with fire and sending out deadbeat minions to wound and harm them, only for Vivi and mystery to deflect the attacks expertly.
Of course, Lewis is still powerful, and he can’t control the anger he feels as he tries to slash into Vivi- who is betraying him-!
Only for a sharp set of teeth to snap down on his anchor- and forcing Lewis to the ground. Mystery didn’t want to, but he has Lewis’s anchor tightly clenched in his jaw, and the resulting wounds cover Lewis entirely until he’s screaming and crying. It’s unbearable.
Meanwhile, Arthur can only watch. Watch as his friends tear themselves apart... watches as frost bites at the golden anchor and Lewis’s body freezes from shock- before his body seems to disintergrate into rose petals, and mystery lets him go. Sorrowful. Vivi and him have yet to noticed Arthur, but they know he’s there. That’s not what’s important right now-! They have to get the anchor with the dormant Lewis and leave-!
But sooner or later, Dellila has to come out. With smiles and hearts and a cheery, happy grin.
And their expression doesn’t change as they snatch the anchor before Vivi or msytery could stop them,
And they smash it. Swallowing the soul that seeps out. Thanking and condemning Arthur aloud for his contributions- his friend is now really gone! And it’s all his fault~
Now the question is, what happens from here?
Because when mystery and Vivi turn to grab Arthur and get out, Arthur has vanished. They don’t know where he is.
They can only fear the worst. And hope that those horrible demons don’t take on a new face
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orionwhispers · 4 years
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Perfect Places // Steve Harrington
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(A/N - yep. this isnt peaky, i know. im taking a little breather so i dont completely burn out writing tommy, but trust me i have 3 wips for him coming soon!! i dont know if any of you guys will like this bc its stranger things and thats ok!! i just had a blast writing it and i love steve and it really challenged me. pls let me know if u like it!! stay safe my loves xxx)
warnings - angst but also so much fluff your teeth will rot 
You felt like the moon was mocking you.
It loomed overhead, round and full and beautiful, the colour of purity and innocence, a beacon of light contrasting against the ink coloured sky. Your face was red hot, streaked with tears that dripped down your nose and collarbone and into your shirt, staining you with sadness that you could feel clawing under your skin.
You were sat on the Byers’ front porch, the sneakers you had once kept so pristinely clean were now caked in mud, your socks soaked through. You felt numb, you ached for something; a familiar lash of anger or heartache, anything to make you feel human again, but you just felt numb.
You could hear clattering from inside the house, low murmurs of voices and whispers tangling together, but you blocked them out like it was just white noise. The steady hum of those you loved and trusted brought some comfort, but that was instantly replaced by longing for the one person who deserved to be there, the person who deserved to still be alive.
You had been ecstatically high on adrenaline, you were terrified but vivacious as you helped bundle your boyfriend and the kids into Hoppers’ car as he raced past the Laboratory’s gates. You remembered the feeling of Steve’s hands around your waist as he pushed you into the back, flustered and protective, determined to get you away from any danger.
You should have said something.
You knew something was wrong, but you kept quiet. The air in the car was thick and dense like smoke, and Hopper was covered in crimson coloured splotches, you noticed the way he didn’t look at you, instead keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead. You should have said something, should have asked where your Uncle was, should have demanded an answer, but instead you pushed those thoughts away and watched the road through the windshield until your vision went blurry, Steve’s thumb soothingly rubbing over the top of your hand.
You knew he felt it too.
It was only when you reached the driveway of the Byers bungalow, feet moving on autopilot, tearing through the front door and seeing Joyce waiting for you, tears running down her face as she pulled you into her chest, did you realise the immensity of the situation. You let out a wail that could rival a demogorgon, sinking down into the coarse fabric of her hospital gown, her hands clambering across your frame, desperate to offer any comfort she could.
Steve was beside you in an instant, gripping your elbows to stop you falling onto your knees and onto the shag carpet, cradling you into him like a child. He felt so helpless, not knowing how to ease your pain, words getting stuck in his throat like cotton balls as he watched the girl he loved shatter into pieces. One look at his familiar face contorted in torment and it set you off again, coughing and spluttering like you were drowning in your tears. You pushed the consolatory hands off of you harder than you had intended, feeling suffocated and in desperate need of some form of relief. You were no good to anybody like this, you needed to wallow in your grief alone, Joyce had bigger problems and you refused to drag her down under with you.
You stumbled towards the front door, murmuring “I need some air.” You sank into the darkness like it was an old friend, wrapping your arms around yourself as your head throbbed and pulsed. You let the cold air hit your bare skin and fell to the ground, knees to your chest and silent screams leaving your throat.
Steve ran forward to be by your side, but Hopper pulled him back by the hood of his jacket, a large hand consoling your distraught boyfriend, “Let her go kid, give her a minute.”
He gave you five.
Watching the hands tick away meticulously on the clock above the fridge, he flexed his fingers and allowed the slow and steady noises to keep him grounded. He loathed the idea that you were outside alone, beautiful face covered in tears, heartbroken and shattered. Not only that but the knowledge that those things could be looming in the woods waiting to sink their teeth into you was driving him mad with paranoia. The only thing stopping him from pulling you inside where he could safely watch you was the unwavering concern that not letting you grieve would do more harm than good, so he settled for watching you through the window, hands clamped around his trusty bat - just in case.
————————————————————
You were sure you had run out of tears. Exhausted and dehydrated, you buried your head in the palm of your hands, desperate to stop the mind numbing pain at the back of your skull. The trees rustled gently, olive coloured leaves glinting under the stars. You wondered what could be lurking inside of the forest, but you were too drained to care.
You heard the door creak behind you, but relaxed at the familiar weight of Cortez’s against the soft wood.
“Hey.” His voice was soft, almost timid. Sounding so foreign coming from his mouth, so cautious and kind that it almost made you start crying all over again. He paused momentarily, before inhaling and sitting down beside you, his long legs awkwardly bent, his back starting to ache, but he couldn’t care less. You both sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, unsure how to break down the barrier that was forming between you. Your hazy eyes lingered on the T-shirt’s and sweaters dangling from the Boyce’s washing line, sleeves swaying with the movement of the wind, almost as if there was an invisible person dancing inside.
Steve was the first to break the silence. He usually was, his quick wit and smooth demeanour had been one of the reasons you had fallen for him in the first place, the only person you had ever met that could make you melt into a puddle and then cry with laughter with just a few sentences.
“How you holding up?” He faltered, picking angrily at a loose thread hanging from his denim jeans. “That was a stupid question, I’m sorry.”
You didn’t trust yourself to form words just yet, but you tilted your head as much as you could muster, communicating with your boyfriend in that nauseating way that only the both of you understood, except this time it felt sour instead of sickeningly sweet.
You crunched a stray leaf under your shoe, mulling over the sound as it tore under your heel. “It doesn’t feel real.” You muttered finally, biting your lower lip with your front teeth, letting the pain stop your tears. “I keep expecting to see his face, his stupid goofy grin.” You smiled gently, “I keep waiting for him to turn up and say it’s all a prank, but I know he won’t, he’s too kind for that.”
“He was the nicest person I’ve ever met.” Steve said truthfully, “He was a good guy.”
Was. Three words that swam around your head and tangled your stomach into knots and you choked on the thickness in your throat. The strangled groan was so heartbreaking that Steve wanted to tear apart the things that did this to you with his bare hands, but instead he pulled you closer with them, clasping you against his chest.
He let you cry, he let you ruin his t-shirt and cover him in your mascara and wet, hot tears. He would let you bawl into everything he owned, even his prized The Clash shirt or limited edition Charlies Angels sweater that was buried in the back of his wardrobe - he would give it all to you, to stain and rip and ruin, if it meant you had at least one moment of solace.
Under the beautiful navy sky littered with stars, Steve sighed, wishing he knew what to say. He wished that he was as articulate as Nancy, or as strong as Hopper, he’d even take being as soft spoken as Jonathon, if he knew it would make you feel better. But you hadn’t fallen in love with any of them, you had fallen in love with him and he was going to do everything in his power to try and make his girl hurt a little less. So he tried to distract you.
“Do you remember our first date?” He said, breaking the silence, his eyes focusing on the branches of a tree swaying in the distance.
He heard you sniffle, felt the rise of your head under the palm of his hands. If you were surprised by his question you didn’t show it. “How could I forget?”
He smiled, thinking back to the day, over two years ago. If he thought hard enough he could almost relive the gut twisting anxiety and the sweat pooling on the nape of his neck as he pulled up to your house. The two of you had been friends forever, bound since the day you both shared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the playhouse in kindergarten. But you both started naturally drifting apart around the end of middle school, settling onto different paths as you grew up, only really seeing each other in the hallways or at the back of the school bus.
By the time you both entered high school, Steve was completely swept up with basketball and his newfound popularity, and you were settling into your own friendships and trying to stay on top of your grades. You rarely saw one another, but by chance the two of you were paired as lab partners one semester in sophomore year, and soon science became his favourite subject. Seeing you became the highlight of his day, better than scoring a goal in basketball or cutting class with Tommy and Carol. It was as if no time had passed between the two of you, the conversation so easy and genuine, and he made it a personal challenge to have you in stitches by the time the bell rang.
He fell hard, and fast. He had always thought you were beautiful, even when you were just kids and you wore your hair in two braids and seemed to always be covered in glitter. There was just something about you, an ease and a lightness that you carried, something about your smile and sound of your laugh that had him stumbling over his sentences like an idiot. He liked hearing about all of the things he had missed, like how you got grounded for sneaking out of your room to go and watch the new Star Wars, or how you crashed your dads car into a tree the very first hour after you got your license.
It wasn’t long before he realised that his day didn’t feel complete unless he had spoken to you. He started noticing how every game he searched for your face in the bleachers, the only person he really cared about seeing. His eyes would flicker over faces at parties, determined to find your sparkling eyes and kind smile, finding the hit of seeing you more electric than the cheap beer and fizzled out joints being passed around him.
He was nervous. He didn’t get nervous - he was Steve Harrington for Christ’s sake, but somehow you had managed to turn his whole world on its axis. He tried to live his life with as little regrets as possible; but in the quiet of his bedroom, with the moonlight casting shadows across his walls, he couldn’t help but feel furious with himself. If he could go back in time and do everything all over again, he would make sure to hold onto you as tight as possible and stop the two of you drifting apart.
He wasn’t stupid, he knew you were a knockout. The kind of girl that would bring even the strongest of men to their knees, the kind of girl that lingered in his brain long after he had fallen asleep. He also knew that he wasn’t the only one who had been completely captivated by you. He had seen the way Mike Adams cornered you after the school assembly, laughing at something you said as you sat with a group of friends, an enamoured look in his eye. He saw the way Jacob Taylor tried his hardest to get as close to you as possible at a house party, dazed by the way you twirled your hair obliviously and smiled like white, hot sunshine.
He knew what they were going through, smitten and stupid and dopey and practically a puddle at your feet, because he felt exactly the same way.
He was going to ask you out to dinner and then the movies. He had an elaborate speech planned in his mind, one that he had practiced in the mirror repeatedly - not that he would ever admit it. He was nervous. So goddamn nervous of screwing up the one thing that he really fucking liked, of potentially ruining your friendship and making himself look like an ass for misreading the signals and making you uncomfortable that he almost talked himself out of it as he walked into the physics lab one rainy afternoon.
But when he saw you there, looking up at him. As sweet as cinnamon in your oversized lab coat and stupid goggles, lips slightly chewed and fingertips stained with charcoal, and he couldn’t stop himself from blurting:
“Doyouwanttogooutwithme?”
For a moment he wished he took photography class, so he could snap a picture of the blush on your cheeks, have a physical copy of your wide smile and the glint in your eyes; something to look at when he was trying to fall asleep.
“About time, Harrington.” You had said, and it had knocked all of the wind from him, and he had walked around with a big goofy grin for the entire rest of the day.
————-————————————————
“I remember being so goddamn nervous. I thought I was going to throw up.” He said now, his voice laced with humour, somehow always knowing how to diffuse any situation.
You curled up further into him, craving his stability and warmth, and you relaxed as you felt his palm rubbing comforting circles across your back.
He looked into the darkness, remembering the anxiety filling him as he waited for you on the street by your house. He remembered peering into the rear view mirror, fluffing the edges of his hair with his fingertips, twisting and pulling the strands until they sat where he wanted. He could feel his leg shaking, foot hovering above the gas as he struggled to keep his composure. He hadn’t even been this nervous when college scouts came to a game, and he seriously needed to stay cool before you opened the door and saw him.
“You brought me flowers.” You said quietly, and he looked down at you with a gentle smile, his heart clenching at the sadness in your voice.
He remembers standing in the grocery store, cursing and muttering under his breath, wondering what was more romantic: tulips or sunflowers.
He bought both.
He can remember holding them in his shaking hands as carefully as he could as he walked up the stone path to your house.
“I had to talk myself into ringing the doorbell.” He felt you scoff under him and he laughed,
“Seriously! I was terrified, more scared than I was tonight.”
Its a lie. Running through the junkyard and fighting off strange monsters had been exhilarating, but also the most terrifying experience of his life; especially when he knew that the kids and you were just metres away, hidden in the old bus. He really thought he was about to die when the demodog reared and snarled in his face, teeth gnashing at his throat, but in those moments all he could think about was protecting you.
It’s strange, he had never been so terrified to lose someone.
“And then Bob opened the door.” Your voice was heavy and thick, like you were swallowing honey and it snapped him out of his thoughts, reminding him of the reason you were both huddled outside.
Your parents worked ninety percent of the time, only really coming home to crawl into bed and then driving back to work six hours later. You were used to it though, falling into a somewhat stable routine of eating TV dinners and doing your homework to the sounds of Jeopardy! playing in the background. Despite the lonely nights and your parents distance, there was always one person who tried their absolute best to make you feel safe and secure. Your uncle, Bob Newby.
The goofy, gold hearted manager at RadioShack was always there for you, especially whenever your parents weren’t. He always made sure your refrigerator had something green inside, and would come over after work to sit and watch cheesy rom coms with you. He even installed new locks and security lights in the yard and on the porch, just to make you both feel better, even though it was Hawkins - and nothing ever happens there.
He was basically a surrogate dad and your best friend, and you weren’t even embarrassed to admit it. Some of the happiest nights of your life had been with him, like when you went to the midnight viewing of The Godfather and shared toffee popcorn and cherry twizzlers, or when he drove you to Lake Michigan for your birthday and you ate sandwiches next to the water.
So when he found out the captain of the basketball team had asked you out on a date, he was a little apprehensive.
“He really grilled me.” Steve muttered with a sad smile, it hurt him that one of the most poignant moments of his life was now to be covered in a thick, black cloud, and he could only imagine what you’re going through. “I thought he was going to pull out a shotgun.”
“Psh. It would have been a lightsaber.”
You remembered shovelling in cereal at the breakfast bar the morning of your date. Bob watching you over his steaming mug of coffee curiously.
“So… Any plans for today?”
You rolled your eyes and smiled fondly at your uncle. “Steve is taking me out. This is only like the billionth time I’ve told you.”
He nodded, “Right, Right. Steve. Steve.” He tested the name on his tongue. “And Steve is - the captain of the basketball team right?”
“Yep.” You said, through a mouthful of sugar. “Oh, and he’s the leader of this really tough biker gang, to get in you have to murder three kittens.”
You watched his eyebrows shoot to his hairline, and then slowly fall back to their original spot when he caught on to your teasing. He held up his hands in playful surrender, taking a swig of his drink and then placing his mug on the granite counter.
“I know I’m being a fusspot! But I’m just looking out for you.”
“I know, Bob! But I’ll be fine! We’re just going to catch a movie and then dinner.”
“Ok.” He sighed, turning to wash up the dishes left from the previous nights pig out fest, but his hands stilled before he could twist the faucet. “Wait! Nothing R rated - or too romantic, and tell him to knock it off if he tries that whole ‘I’m so tired, let me put my arm around you schtick!’”
“I’m ignoring you now!”
You remembered getting ready, picturing the soft blush hue of your summer dress, and the taste of your strawberry gloss on your lips. You remembered the heat of your curling iron as you meticulously styled your hair, checking your reflection as a way to distract from the minutes ticking by.
You knew the familiar feeling of sweaty palms and butterflies before a date, but that morning it was as if somebody had realised a kaleidoscope of monarchs and swallowtails inside of you. You were completely nauseous, but so excited, and you felt like you were floating on cloud nine, unable to believe that Steve Harrington - the boy you had been crushing on since first grade - wanted to take you out.
You were nervously touching up your makeup, widening your eyes and applying yet another coat of mascara, when you heard commotion downstairs - and the telltale sound of your date getting completely grilled. You practically flew to your feet, haphazardly tying your converse and grabbing your purse, hoping to save Steve from the clutches of your overprotective Uncle. You nearly slid down the carpet when you noticed the door was ajar, smiling widely at the sight of Steve clutching two bouquets, his hair perfectly coiffed and his sneakers white and gleaming.
“- No I’ve never been in an accident, Sir.” You heard Steve say, his voice carrying through the hallway.
“Hmm?” You heard Bob reply, “And what about alcohol? Do you drink it?
“Only eggnog at Christmas.” Steve replied with a grin, his lips falling down when Bob sent him a glare. “Ok, not in the mood for jokes.”
“Are you under the influence now?”
“What? No! Why would I… Wow.” He faltered when he noticed you at the top of the stairs, and for the first time his mind went totally blank, his brain short circuiting at the sight of you. He felt his mouth go dry and he struggled to say something, not wanting to look like any more of an idiot than he already was, but Bob got there first.
“You look great, sweetheart.” He said, voice brimming with pride.
You blushed a deep crimson, feeling awkward under both of their stares. “Thanks, Bob.”
As soon as you reached the floor you blinked up at the men watching you, raising a brow slowly when Steve didn’t move. “So are you ready?”
“Yep. Yes. Yep.” He said quickly, rummaging around his pockets for his keys, and then realising they were in his hands the whole time. “Lets go.”
“Be home before eleven!” You heard Bob yell, his words just carrying into the night before you managed to slam the front door shut.
After the initial awkward meeting at your door, and Bob shooting unconvincing daggers at Steve as he guided you towards his car, the rest of the date went smoothly. You had been out with boys before; middle school crushes that took you to the ice cream parlour in town, and letting your best friend rope you in for a double date with a boy you had never met - but nothing like this.
As the car lulled through the streets, any unease forming quickly uncoiled between the two of you, and it wasn’t long until you were both in stitches. It felt so natural and easy, and you found yourself wanting to know everything about the hazel haired man sitting next to you.
You ate at a diner just outside of town, because according to Steve: “they have the best strawberry milkshakes - ever. I swear they’re like crack.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, Harrington.” You had said, shooting him a million dollar smile over your shoulder. He was glad that you walked in first, because it felt as though a bullet had soared through his gut.
——————————————————————-
“I remember the milkshakes.” You said. Steve looked down at you, curled up on his lap. He nodded at your words, thinking of summer days and winter nights snuggled up in your booth at the diner. You must have shared hundreds by now, drinking such an obscene amount of the sweet treat it was a surprise neither of you looked like a strawberry. You had ruined the fruit for him. He couldn’t take a bite from a strawberry without remembering the taste of your lips or the sound of your laugh, it was conditioned into him like he was one of Pavlov’s dogs. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t love it, strawberries had become his favourite fruit.
“I told you those milkshakes were great.”
“Yeah, you did.”
He could feel you wobbling under him, could feel the heart wrenching tremor of your body starting to shake with tears and he swore internally, trying his best to distract you again.
“And then we watched Ghostbusters.”
You let out a half hearted laugh. “And you almost shit yourself when you saw Slimer.”
“He popped up outta nowhere!”
“And then you spilt popcorn everywhere.”
“Yeah, that old lady was pissed.” He clicked his tongue at the memory, crumbs and melted butter flying everywhere, the entire row in front covered in his mess and glaring at you both, you laughing so hard into your sleeve you thought you might just pass out.
“And then I drove you home - way before curfew I might add - because I’m a gentleman.”
“And then you kissed me.”
“I think you’ll find you kissed me.”
“Ha.You wish.”
It felt good to hear the bite back in your voice, and it warmed him like a zap of electricity that his plan of distraction was working.
Besides, it was partly true - you had kissed him first.
That night as he pulled into your driveway, his gut felt like a huge boulder inside of him. There was nothing more that he wanted then to lean over the console and kiss you, but he was too goddamn nervous.
The date had gone so brilliantly, and he could feel himself, tripping, stumbling and falling completely head over heels for you, but he was so uncharacteristically anxious that it was kind of freaking him out. He was getting all worked up about things he had never thought of before, like his teeth clashing against yours, or accidentally knocking your heads together and giving you a mild concussion.
He left his car running, because he didn’t want you to be cold, (and the constant vibrations were good at hiding the tremor in his legs). It was fully black outside, the night sky a long stretch of navy and the stars were pretty but not nearly as pretty as the girl smiling at him in the passenger seat. Just as your eyes connected and he thought he was going to finally kiss you, the porch light turned on, a nice little reminder from Uncle Bob that he was still watching. You laughed exasperatedly and reached over, filling the distance between you as you tried to grab the strap of your handbag and Steve leant over to give you a hand with the sticky door, but instead your lips caught his and he froze in place, his eyes closed and his heart feeling like a jackhammer in his chest, all of his worries evaporating behind him like ocean spray, because suddenly everything felt right.
“Night, Harrington.” You had said smugly, leaving him in his car that suddenly smelt like cotton candy and coconut shampoo, and with an entire carnivals worth of fireworks erupting from his stomach.
————————————————————
“When I got inside he pretended he had just woken up.” You said now, your words coated with tears but laced with tenderness. “Tried to act like he wasn’t staring through the window watching us kiss.”
Steve tangled his fingers through your hair, anchoring the two of you together, hoping that the small action would give you at least some comfort. He mulled over all of the memories the two of you shared, picturing them shattered at his feet like shards of shimmering glass. He wasn’t sure how to comfort you and it hurt, the silence settling around you like thick, poisonous gas.
“What about our first anniversary? The first time we committed a felony.”
“It wasn’t a felony.”
“Yeah and I’m sure it wasn’t the first time either, you little criminal.”
He remembered when you went out to a much too fancy restaurant in the city. How angelic and beautiful you looked in a little sundress and heels, stealing the breath right out of his lungs whenever he looked at you. How even when he was out of his comfort zone you felt like home, always making him feel stable no matter where he was. He remembered those glances you stole at one another, tongue in cheek laughter and suppressed smiles at the strange place you were both in, the two of you sticking out amongst the older, richer and snootier couples like a sore thumb.
He remembered the glint in your eye and the look on your face, the one that had him completely wrapped around your little finger - (but really, you could look at him anyway and he was a complete goner). It was how you both stood up at the same time, grabbing your handbag and wallet and rushing through the sea of people, laughing loudly as he slipped his hand in yours and pulled you with him, dodging the doorman who was cursing loudly at the kids who had just dined and dashed, even though neither of you had had more than a mouthful of your overpriced starter.
“You are such a bad influence, (Y/L/N).” He had scolded, playfully pinching the inside of your thigh as you lay stretched out on a picnic blanket overlooking the forests on the edge of town. You swatted him away, and he felt his breath hitch at the sight of you, hair tousled and makeup slightly worn, so effortlessly beautiful beneath the headlights of his car.
“Oh, please Hargrove. You would be lost without me.”
He didn’t reply, because it was true.
Instead he leaned over your body, stealing a quick kiss and also a handful of fries from the drive thru bag next to you.
“Hey!” You whined, leaning up and swatting at him. “Those are mine!”
“Technically, technically,” He said, licking salt from his fingertips. “They were at the bottom of the bag, not in either of the cartons - so they were never really yours.”
You rolled your eyes, punching him softly in the gut and laughing as he collapsed on top of you. “You are such a dumbass.”
“Yeah, but I’m your dumbass.”
He ran his tongue over a canine, finding clarity in your eyes.“I can’t believe you’ve put up with me for a whole year.”
“Me neither, but the money your dad gives me to go out with you makes it worth it.”
His finger trailed along the bridge of your nose, his lips curling the same as the path his fingerprints followed. “Stupid.” It was a terrible comeback, but when you looked up up at him like that, all of his sentences spilt into a bowl of mismatched alphabet soup. He blinked down at you, feeling the way his heart hammered against his rib cage, engulfed in the terrifying feeling of being so in love with somebody. “Seriously though, this has - this has been the best year of my life.”
Your rosebud lips parted, showing him that dammed smile that would make him burn down the whole town if you asked him to. “Mine too.”
——————————————————————-
“Remember when I got a black eye because of you?” He murmured, glancing up at the stars that flickered above you both.
“Because of me?” You scoffed, halfheartedly. “Hardly.”
“Ok. Keep telling yourself that.”
There was once a time where he loved nothing more than spending Friday through Sunday completely wasted, waking up on somebodies couch, his mouth tasting like sour liquor and his clothes scattered across the floor - but not after he met you. He used to long for the high from downing tequila shots or jumping into the pool with hazy eyes, a burnt out joint being passed around friends, but soon he realised that nothing came close to the fever high he got from simply being around you.
He remembered sitting in the school parking lot on a Friday afternoon, listening to Tommy and Carol natter about how a group of seniors were going to break into the rec centre and get drunk, but there words were nothing but static as he looked for you among the familiar faces.
You had been officially dating for a few months, and much to Tommy’s dismay, it seemed as though neither of you had any intention of letting the other go. It stung the teenager when Steve started blowing him off to hang out with you, his usual alibi for wild parties leaving him high and dry. He was jealous of the way you managed to consume all of Steve’s attention, and the fact that since the two of you had gotten together, Steve was so much kinder to everyone, and didn’t want to join in with his juvenile antics. When you went to parties, he drank less and laughed more, and Tommy was left doing shots and keg stands alone.
More than anything though, Tommy was jealous that Steve had scored a girl like you, kind and soft and sweet, when he had trouble getting Carol to stay over longer than the time it took to drain a bottle of stolen wine. It made him feel envious and insecure, watching the way you kissed Steve in the hallways with rosebud lips and your eyes shone like diamonds under the gentle sun; when was a girl going to look at him like that?
“You coming tonight, Harrington?” He asked from the hood of Steve’s car, his legs dangling onto the asphalt.
“No.” Steve said, chewing on his fingernails. “Sorry man, I’m taking (Y/N) to the drive in.”
“Aww.” Carol preened, a solid supporter of your relationship. You hadn’t known her too well before you started seeing Steve and hadn’t expected to become so close to her, but now she was one of your best friends. Sure she could be a little vapid and a little rude, but she also made you laugh loudly and always helped you get ready for dates with Steve, and you really appreciated the way she let you into the inner circle. “That’s so sweet. You guys are too cute.”
Tommy ignored her. He could already feel himself boiling over.
“Cmon Harrington, it’s one night. It’s tradition.”
“No it isn’t.”
He exhaled loudly. “Well it should be.”
“I’m good, man. And besides, we’re still going to see the Bulls play on Saturday, right?”
“I guess.”
Silence settled around them like cigarette ash. Tommy, growing more irate by the second, toyed with the collar of his shirt and curled and uncurled his fingers. He wasn’t quite sure why he was pissed - as Steve’s best friend he should have been pleased with how love struck and happy he was, and it wasn’t as though he never saw Steve anymore, or that you had split up the group or anything - but he was still annoyed, and that’s why he said it.
“God, I hope she’s a better fuck than she looks. I mean, she must be if she’s got you this whipped.”
It took a moment for Steve to process what he had said, swallowing his friends words like they were barbed wire, his throat filling with blood.
“What the fuck did you say?”
“Just what everybody else is thinking.” It wasn’t what everybody thought, but Tommy thrived off of mob mentality, and the small crowd watching in the parking lot was enough to spike his adrenaline.
“Tommy.” Carol warned, her voice thick and heavy, eyeing him from over the roof of the car.
“What did you say about her?” Steve asked, his face turning crimson, the shade matching the colour coating his pupils.
Tommy didn’t hold back, his hands firmly grasping his shovel, ready to dig himself deeper. “Jesus. Look at you! Look what she’s turned you into. She’s a bitch, and so are you.” He gestured wildly with his hands, the severity of what he had said was slowly sinking in, but he was stupid enough to stand by it for the time being.
Steve was livid. His body rattling like he had been struck by lightning. He knew he wasn’t some fucking white knight who had to defend your honour, but there was no way in hell he was going to let some fucking prick about you like that.
“And…you know what? The both of you can - ”
“Fuck you.” Steve brought his fingers to a fist and clocked him right in the nose, a sickening thwack echoing around the school. Tommy recoiled backwards, almost falling through the windshield. He managed to regain his balance at the last second, and his face was contorted with both pain and disbelief.
“What the fuck man?” Tommy seethed, spitting out a wad of blood and lunging at Steve, managing to grab him by his collar and slam him onto the asphalt, their jeans ripping across the gravel.
The two of them rolled around, a deadly mix of closed knuckles and crisp white sneakers. A small crowd had gathered around the two of them, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and rich with stories to be shared around the party that night. They both managed to get a couple good hits in, Steve just managing to get the upper hand before the school janitor started calling in for backup.
You had just left World Civ, your textbooks still cradled in your arms and your best friend laughing in your ear as you made your way out of the school and towards the parking lot.
“Yeah, I swear! She…” Your best friends voice trailed off as she noticed a blur of movement in the distance, her ears picking up like a bloodhounds. “Oh my God. I wonder what’s going on.”
You looked up shrugging your shoulders, expecting to see some of the wrestling team or soccer players roughhousing like they usually did, but your blood turned cold when your eyes focused fully and you caught sight of that damn perfect hair.
“Holy shit. Steve!”
If only your phys ed teacher could have witnessed the speed you ran across the car park; dust picking up with your shoes as you bolted towards your boyfriend. You managed to break through the inner circle crowding around them, the teenagers egging on Tommy and Steve as they scrambled towards one another, the sound of elbows and knees and fingernails clashing all around you.
“Hey. Hey! That’s enough!”
Poor Mr Springer tried his best to separate the two of them, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s waist and trying to tear them apart as they continued scrapping like junkyard dogs.
Your mouth was agape as a couple of boys helped break the two of them up, your eyes widening at the scarlet red blood staining the ground and the deep purple bruises already starting to show. You managed to catch Steve’s line of sight, his eyes widening at the sight of you, his face starting to swell.
“Steve? What the fuck!”
“Oh! Hey, babe? How did your pop quiz go?” He asked, throwing you a dazzling smile as though everything was right in the world.
Despite everything, you bit back a laugh, kneeling down to wrap your hands around him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” You said, cradling the now puffy side of his face, a quarter sized apricot indent growing under his eye.
He winked at you as he was pulled away and dragged to the principal. He knew he was in for a months worth of Saturday detentions, but he couldn’t care less. He avoided the death glare his former best friend was giving him, licking the blood pooling across his split lip.
If he had to chose between you or Tommy, or choose between nights in with you or nights out with the rest of the seniors - hell, if he had to choose between basketball and you, it would be you, every time.
Point blank, period.
———————————————————-
There was a chill in the air, swallowing the both of you whole. Steve could feel his jeans dampening, your tears cascading down your face and onto his denim. He could feel eyes on the back of neck, and knew without turning around that Dustin and the rest of the kids were watching from the kitchen window, waiting to jump out and rescue you both if something crawled out from the bushes.
He didn’t have much time left. Soon he would have to bring you back inside, away from the vulnerability of the night and into the embrace of those you had grown so close to. He thinks back with a grimace, to the fight you had over your new routine.
Bob and Joyce dating came as a shock to everyone involved, especially Steve. Not so much that Bob had found companionship with the pretty single mother, but more so that it meant you were spending more time at their house - with Jonathon.
He wasn’t jealous.
He wasn’t.
No matter how many times you rolled your eyes and teased him - he wasn’t jealous.
He just didn’t like the idea of you sat next to him at movie nights, laughing with him during family board games, eating breakfast in the chair beside him, driving to school together and singing along to the stupid obscure bands that Jonathon liked.
Ok maybe he was a little jealous. Sue him.
He’d spent the night at your place, under the guise of helping you with your calculus homework, even though you had a higher grade than him, and he watched with sleepy eyes as you rummaged around your desk in the morning.
“What?” He mumbled under the slowly rising sun, half of his face still buried in your pillow. “What? Where? Where are you going?”
You rifled through your handbag and examined the contents, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Bob’s taking everyone out for lunch - well it should have been breakfast but someone - ” you emphasised with a playful glare, “Is making me late.”
“Whose going?”
“Everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“You know. Me, Joyce, Jon and Will.”
Jon.
“You didn’t tell me Jonathon was going.” He’s not sure if it’s true. He remembers fragments of you telling him your plans for the weekend, but he also remembers your words shattering before they reached his brain, because of that little strappy top you were wearing and the blackberry colour of your lipstick.
“What?” You asked distractedly, untangling your headphones from your Walkman. “I did.”
“No.” He clicked his jaw, a sign of his annoyance. “You just said Bob was taking you out.”
“With everyone - everyone includes Jonathon.”
“Right.” He’s pissed. His anger isn’t directed at you, more so the floppy haired teenager you’ll be sharing pancakes with, even though it’s not exactly his fault either. “Since when did you guys become The Brady Brunch?”
You let out a dry laugh, oblivious to the fact your boyfriend was getting more agitated by the second.
Did you really have to wear that skirt? He thought. Why did it have to be the short little denim one covered in cherries that made you look so damn good?
“You know how much Joyce loves her kids, Bob just wants to make an effort.”
“Yeah but why do you have to go?”
You shrugged, applying a swipe of lipgloss and tightening your cardigan in an effort to hide the hickeys blossoming under your collarbones. “He invited me, said it’s a family thing.”
“It’s not as though you’re really family though is it?”
He regretted it the moment the syllables left his mouth, but he was too wound up to think before he spoke. He cringed at the way you lost his gaze in the mirror, really fucking hating himself when he saw the crimson blush rise from your throat and onto your cheeks, and the sheen coating your eyes.
“I should go.”
You didn’t hesitate, grabbing your belongings and darting down the stairs. Family had always been a sore subject for you, and he loathed himself for striking you in the one place that it really fucking hurt.
“Wait.. Baby I -” He chased after you, but you were too fast. He wished that you would stay and argue with him, he’d let you scream and yell and shout at him, because he deserved it and he wanted to let you know he was sorry for being a prick, but you were already out of the door.
“Just up when you leave.” Were the last things you said, disappearing into your car.
He apologised with your favourite chocolates and red roses and an attempt to make you dinner. You couldn’t stay upset with him and his sheepish grin even when half of your kitchen was covered in tomato sauce and your moms pan was coated in burnt pasta.
The boy could screw up, but he always knew how to make up for it.
He trusted you, and loved you, and apologised for - in your words, ‘being a class A jackass’ - and even put away his pride long enough to tell you that, Ok, fine, maybe he was a tiny bit jealous of Jonathon and the bond growing between you.
That night as you curled up on your living room floor amongst an abundance of pillows and crocheted throws, you reassured him that you were in love with him and only him, even when he drove you up the wall. He fell asleep a little easier that night, his girl happy and safe in his arms, your words calming the storm that was once brewing in his mind.
…And maybe Jonathon wasn’t that bad.
———————————————————-
The light of the moon was harsh, almost like the street lamps that flickered in the distance. Steve could feel you moving underneath him, and his palms were starting to dampen, the reality of the evening finally sinking in.
Bob was dead.
As though the same thought had passed through you, you spoke, your voice strained and quiet. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“I know.”
Your voice cracked like thin ice. “He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t… He.” You choked on your words, and Steve pulled you into him firmly, as if to stop you from falling apart.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
You sniffled, a sob tearing through your lungs and clawing through your throat, and you tried desperately to not think about your poor uncles lifeless body. “What am I going to do without him?”
You weren’t looking for an answer, but Steve gave you one.
“It’ll be me and you, it’ll be us. Forever.”
His future was uncertain. He was under a mountain of pressure from his teachers and coaches and guidance counsellors to get his head down and decide about college and scholarships and what he was going to do with his life.
He even took one of those quizzes that was supposed to help him figure his shit out, but when he sat there, pencil in hand and he read the words - where do you see yourself in five years? The only thing he could think of, was you.
He thought of you, so smart and pretty, your future just as undecided as his, but still by his side. He could see road trips and night drives and long distance calls, he could see morning laughter and monumental arguments and make ups, in the distance he could even see a house with a white picket fence and a big dog and a few kids who looked like a mixture of the both of you.
It seemed so simple. So much more simple than applying for college or an internship, because he knew that whatever he did, he wanted it with you.
And then this crazy fucking year happened, and things weren’t so simple anymore. Soon he was best friends with a bunch of pre teens and fighting off big scary fucking monsters and Billy Hargrove. Soon his small world of basketball and strawberry milkshakes and tongue kisses was filled with danger, and he needed to keep you safe.
“I miss him.”
“I know.” He says honestly. “I miss him too.”
He remembered the last conversation he had with Bob. It was before they found Hopper underground, and Bob was getting ready to leave and see Joyce and Will. You were in your room, finishing off the last of your homework, and Steve was heading downstairs to finish off the last of the pizza. He had just grabbed a Coke and a slice of pepperoni, when he saw Bob rummaging through the cupboard in the hall.
“Hey,” Steve said, waving the hand with the soda in it. “I heard about Will. Is he alright?”
Bob gave a kind nod. “Yeah.” He hesitated. “Well, actually, I’m not sure. I’m uh - I’m looking for my old board games for him to play with.”
Steve smiled, because that was exactly the thing Bob would do. “Well, give him my best.”
They exchanged pleasantries, and Steve spun his heel to rejoin you upstairs, taking a big bite of melted cheese as he walked, before Bob spoke aloud once again.
“There’s something strange going on in this town.”
Steve remembered the year before, standing in Jonathan’s living room, twinkling Christmas lights draped on the wall and a baseball bat in his hands. He remembered Barb and Will, and the body from the quarry.
“Yeah.”
Bob exhaled, moving so that he was standing face to face with the teenager. “You make sure nothing happens to her, alright? You know she’s - you know she’s my little girl.”
Steve straightened, his voice solid. “I would never let anything happen to her.”
“I know. You’re a good guy, Harrington.”
He doesn’t know if he agrees, but he knows that for you, he will be.
“Take care of her.”
“Always.”
And they had partied ways: Steve upstairs, where he pulled you into his arms and made you laugh as he planted wet kisses on your face. And Bob to the Byers house to find a map spanning the length of the walls, and then the hospital, and then ultimately, to his death.
———————————————————-
The dark felt much more menacing now, shadows moving like long fingernails and jagged claws around you. He knew that he had to get you inside. He knew that the others would be making plans and setting traps and he knew how much safer you would be there. His heart was shattered after the small sobs leaving your body, your chest deflating like a burst balloon. He also knew that the best people to comfort you would be inside, Joyce with her motherly love, Dustin with his sweet, silly nature, and even Jonathon who truly loved you like a sibling.
“Cmon, lets get you inside.”
He wrapped his hands around you and helped lift you up, steadying you as you swayed on shaky legs. He cradled you into him, feeling the warmth of your breath and tears against his throat, and he inhaled, preparing himself and readying himself, telling him to be strong, for you.
He wrapped a free hand around the door handle, waiting to twist. He took one final look at the menacing bushes and trees surrounding you both, listening for a rustle from the branches.
He doesn’t know what will happen next. But he does know, that whatever it is, you’ll face it, together.
116 notes · View notes
thewritingstar · 3 years
Text
Until My Heart Stops Racing
Pairing: Mitch x Mike (or Bitch as I like to call them, ya know cause Believe x Mitch.....nvm lol) 
Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls 
Note: This was a commission for the wonderful @lisathefan who gave me the cutest prompt and I know she loves her crack ships. I hope you enjoy my dear and thanks to my beta, Faxx for helping me! 
Word count: 5538
---
The car whipped into the parking space, dirt flying around us and I felt my heart rate finally go back to its normal beating. I looked over to Butch who had a goofy grin and ignoring everything he just did.
“Butch your driving is terrible. Now I get why you fly everywhere.” I groaned as I finally got out of the car. “I swear if Brick saw how you drove this thing... actually I don’t want to think about it.” I thought that speeding was illegal but apparently if the cops can’t even see your car, it's a free pass. And being in touch with the puffs might be a bonus we all have.
Butch let out a laugh before locking the car. “Relaxe Mike, what Brick doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He shrugged and sometimes I wondered how he could even say that. Brick could kill someone with just a glance but when you are a superhuman, and his brother, maybe the effect doesn’t work.
Maybe I should ask Blossom about that.
The beeping of other cars brought me out of my trance as I followed him on the dirt path.
“Anyways, why did you drag me all the way out here?” I turned to see the lights and the signs. “The fair?”
In front of me was the entrance to what could only be deemed as a somehow legal way to make people shell out three hundred dollars on cheap food and even cheaper ride systems. Every kid wanted to go to the fair and, yeah, it was fun when you were five, but now that we had just graduated high school, it seemed more dangerous than fun.
“Yeah, why not?”
I glanced at him and he only smiled widely but something in his eyes had mischief written all over it. “What's the deal?”
He sighed and smirked.
“A little birdy told me you got heart eyes for a certain someone.” Butch threw his arm around my shoulder. “And as the king of romance, I’m gonna help you out.”
Theres always a small tinge of fear whenever Butch gets an idea. It either ends badly where someone gets hurt, usually him or bad in the way that we all get in trouble and the notorious Powerpuff Girls have to get us out of it. But this...this was much worse.
“Butch, what did you do?” I said through gritted teeth. He only laughed at me instead of answering and pushed up towards the gates.
“Relax. Look they are here.” He pointed.
I followed his sight and walking up towards us was Buttercup, Robin and Mitch. Butch let out another laugh, probably because he could hear my heartbeat. Fuck superhearing. Of course Robin opened her mouth. You tell a girl while you’re throwing up that you have the biggest crush on your best friend who wears dark leather, has piercings and makes your heart swoon and think that she can keep her mouth shut. But no, she can’t.
“Hey guys.” Butch waves to him before leaving me to wrap his arms around Buttercup and ignore the public by kissing her square on the lips. PDA is always gross unless you’re the one doing it, so I can’t blame them. Also it's funny to watch her smack his arm.
“Sup Mikey.” Robin smiles smugly. Little demon.
“Hey. Hi Mitch.” He gives me a wave and a nod of the head and I have to mentally tell myself not to blush. Stupid hormons.
“Come on you two.” Robin says and grabs my arm and Mitch’s and forces us towards the carnival’s entrance. “Lets go!”
One of the perks to being besties with the puffs is the mass amount of freebies. Buttercup swiftly pulled out a ticket for each of us and handed it to the ticket collector.
“Sweet, free entrance.” Mitch smiled at me and held up his hand for a fist bump.
I gladly returned the gesture and every time I did so, I wondered if he could feel the electric spark between us. God, I need to stop reading romance novels.
“Alright losers. We’ll see you all later tonight, meet up for fireworks at 9?” Buttercup said and apparently everyone already had a plan that I was not aware of.
“Sounds good to me!” Butch smirked. “BC and I are going to do coupley stuff no one wants to see and Robin said something about henna soooooo.” He looked at me. “Guess Mitchy boy and Mikey are on their own.” I didn’t miss his wink and before I could protest, everyone was walking away.
My mind was now racing as I tried to comprehend what was happening. I realized in this moment that the group had ganged up on us, well specifically me. Mitch probably didn’t even think twice as the group broke up but they were out of their minds if they thought something was going to happen.
“Wanna hit the rides?” He asked.
I take a breath before nodding. We turn into the direction of the ride area and I have to remind myself that he is just a friend. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less. I usually have my emotions in check but for some reason, they want to act up now. All I have to do is get through tonight without embarrassing myself or giving Butch the satisfation of him being the king of romance. As if that were possible.
The area is buzzing with so much energy. There’s little kids whining and screams coming from the various rides. The smells of corn dogs, popcorn and, oddly enough, waffles mixed in the air and I can’t tell if it smells good or not but I know my pockets are gonna be much lighter by the end of the night.
We get into the shortest line for the tickets and it's truly a scam that each ride is a separate cost.
“I don’t feel like dying tonight so I think two rides is good for me.” Mitch says and I laugh a little because it's true. Just watching the swings makes me feel like one of them unhinge and plummet to the ground but that's what I get for being a paranoid person.
“I feel you. How about the rollercoaster and ummm... the spinning ride?” I suggest.
“Sounds good to me.” He smiles and god fucking dammit, those damn dimples.
The line moves as we chat about the newest horror movie coming into theaters and how Mitch saw a certain pair of redheads making out in a car.
“Wait for real?”
“I swear to god dude.” He raised his hand. “Unless some other chick wears a big ass bow, it has to be them.”
“Interesting.” I smile and soon we get called next.
“Hi there boys, how many tickets can I get ya?” the older woman asks.
“Ten.” Mitch says and I reach into my pocket to grab my wallet, that may or may not have a photo of all of our friends and definitely not for the reason that I can see his face at any given time, but Mitch stops me and places the cash in the tin. “I got it.” he says casually and something inside me felt all warm and fuzzy as the row of blue tickets was handed to him.
“Have a nice date night.” The woman says as we walk away and I almost do a double take thinking I heard her wrong. But when I look over to Mitch, he seems unaffected by the words so I just let it slide.
The rollercoaster isn’t as grand or cool as the ones at the theme park, it doesn’t even go upside down but it has a good bit of hills and bumps to give some air time so i guess it will do. The only problem is that these workers don’t care and make Mitch and I sit in the same cart as these two younger kids.
After we get the bars onto us, the ride starts to go. In front of us the girl grabs the boy's arm and I give a small eye roll as we start to climb the lift hill.
“Babe I'm scared.” She cries and he wraps an arm around her shoulders and I’ve never been so jealous of middle schoolers before.
“These carts are so damn small.” Mitch complains. And it's true. The two of us squished in this together leaves no space for our arms. The pressure of our shoulders touching isn’t too bad but it's to the point it almost hurts. “Hold on.” He says and I feel him pull his right arm away from mine and throw it behind us. “Sorry this is better.”
“No, it's cool bro.” I say even though I realize that this boy really just made it ten times harder to breath now.
I can barely grasp my surroundings as the rollercoaster takes its first turn before the drop. I can see the ending of the track as we go down but the only thing my brain is processing is the fingers tightening on my shoulder.
“Holy shit.” I mumble hoping that Mitch doesn’t know how he's affecting me.
We let out screams and shouts as we go up and down, flying around on the track and I try to enjoy myself, I really do. Before long, it's over and Mitch reaches his hand out to help me up and I take it with silence.
“That was fun.” He smiles and I am really happy he ignored his moms protests and got that lip piercing. It suits him.
“Yeah.” Is all I can muster and he gives me a look before walking towards the next ride.
Luckily as we enter this ride, there’s more room. Only our knees touch as we buckle in the seatbelt and I feel myself being able to breathe better.
“Good thing we didn’t eat before getting on here.” I laugh as the lights start to flash.
He snorts and nods. “Robin would have blown chunks either way.”
The ride is a simple circular track with small hills. All it does is follow the path and goes around pretty fast. Simple but a classic. The music begins and soon we feel the cart shift. I'm sitting on the right while Mitch is on the left, next to the exit and he wiggles off his black beanie just for good measure. His light brown hair, slightly damaged from dying it black back in freshman year, is ruffled from hat hair and my god is it cute.
“Fucking love this ride.” Mitch smiles and it begins to pick up the pace.
Soon, we are at full speed, which is fine. Perfectly fine. Except for the fact that the gravity from the ride is pulling me towards Mitch and no matter how tight I hold on, I end up smacked against him. Shoulders touching and I can clearly smell his cologne. It's the scent of sandalwood and campfire and my god does it smell heavenly. Men just smell like nature and I am more than okay with that.
But Mitch doesn’t mind, because why would he? Instead he's laughing and truly enjoying the ride. I smile and laugh too because honestly, it's just fun to spend time with him. The ride is over faster than I wanted and we hop off, slightly dizzy and I walk a little out of line but he catches my arm and pulls me to him.
“Easy dude.” He chuckles and I nudge him playfully and ruffle his hair before he plops on his beanie. Goodbye cute hat hair.
All of a sudden, my shoulder is hit. It was a pretty hard smack and my body jolted to the side as Mitch grabbed me from falling.
“Look a bunch of homos.” I look up and realize that it's some assholes from our school.
Duke Jones and Mark Dalton. Some of the few people who actually try to be douchebags on the regular.
My eyes do heavy eye rolls and I want to scream at them but I've never been a confronting person. My voice is in my throat but Mitch takes a step forward, his hand never leaving my arm.
“And what of it? Really dudes? You think some lame insult is gonna hurt our feelings. You’re lucky I don’t just kick your ass, better enough I can call Buttercup in a second and have your bodies all the way across this place. Grow the fuck up and maybe don’t choke on your toxic masculanity.” He sneered and sometimes I forget that Mitch can be pretty intimidating.
Their eyes widened as Mitch pulled out his phone to show BC’s number. They mutter something before turning and rushing off in a hurry.
“You okay?” He asks me.
“Yeah.” I say. “Sorry you got caught in that.”
“It's not a big deal.”
But it is. It's not a secret that I'm out and proud. Yeah its cool and all to not have to be closeted, even Princess came out last year so its nice to know that someone higher up won’t pick on me, but even then, it sucks. No matter where I go in life, someone will be there with a flame thrower of slurs or anger for something I didn’t choose. As for Mitch, theres something about him being called gay and him not having a hissy fit about it that makes me feel safe. Uhh fuck.
I take a second to recollect myself and Mitch just pulls me from the herds of eyes that saw that fiasco.
“Lets go here.” He points to the hall of mirrors and for some reason it's beginning to get extremely hard to be around him.
But I take a deep breath and push those feelings to the side once again.
--
The hall of mirrors was by far the lamest thing the fair could have done. Sure, as a little kid it was cool and slightly scary but now, all of our heads could see just above the tips of the mirrors making it lose the effect. It probably would have been more fun if the others were there. Butch would hide behind the mirros trying to scare us before Buttercup sent some lasers his way causing them to bounce everywhere and making us duck and cover. Good times. However, it was just Mitch and me.
While Mitch was walking, I couldn’t stop thinking about those jerks just now. Of course everyone already knew about my preference but Mitch seemed unbothered by being referred to as gay. Probably because he's not some asshole that thinks it's a bad thing, I mean if he did, why would he be friends with me for all this time? He’s just a good person, that's all.
Not to sound like the coming of age kid, but I knew I was into dudes before I could comprehend the idea of love or romance, I just thought they were pretty to look at. Moving to a new city at such a young age was hard for me, not to mention the whole invisible friend that tried to kill everyone. But after everything was said and done, I did in fact make some friends.
The famous superheroes had become my pals and when Buttercup introduced me to Mitch, I think that's when it all went downhill. We became the dynamic duo and everyone always paired us as the best friends, which is true but...it makes me feel guilty.
He turned a corner and I stopped walking. All of a sudden I was lost and staring at a mirror. Just me in my beat up sneakers and the uncertain face I seem to be wearing a lot lately. There's always a time in your life where you stop and contemplate everything, question all your decisions and how nothing truly matters.
“Hey you stopped walking?” Mitch said to me and I looked at him with a shaky smile.
“Sorry. Lost in thought I guess.”
“Care to share?” He asked and leaned against one of the mirrors.
I laughed to myself thinking about what I could possibly say. “Yeah sure Mitch, why don’t I just tell you that I’m in love with you and how it pains me to wake up to know that you will only see me as just a friend. Why don’t I just rip out my heart and put it on a silver platter for you to squash or just confess and kiss you here, ignoring all the states and hopefully pissing off some people?”
“...What?”
My eyes shot open and my eyes met his. He looked at me with confusion and shock. His mouth hung open slightly and it took me a solid three seconds to relaize that my dumb ass had just blurted that all out.
Panic. That's all I could feel as he stared like a deer caught in headlights. I could feel myself on the verge of tears and suddenly the air was too thick as I turned and ran, not caring about the employee telling me I was going the wrong way.
Mitch’s voice echoed behind me but I couldn’t stand to turn and look towards him. To hear the pure rejection and probably the disgust. Throwing away years of friendship for some stupid feelings? What was I thinking?
After nearly hitting my head several times, I made it out and ignored the weird stares and glances people were giving me. All I wanted to do was find Butch and get out of here and hope that I can just pack up and move away for college. Maybe even change my name.
Instead I found myself pushing my way into the bathroom stall and biting my arm to stifle my sobs. I felt like my heart was about to shatter, that all my nightmares where coming true all thanks to my stupid mouth. I was a fool to think that someone like him would even consider me as something more, a complete and utter fool.
“Mike?” A voice called and of course the sneakers peaking outside the stall belonged to Butch.
“What?” I spat bitterly. “Go away.”
I barely heard his sigh. “Dude, I don’t know what happened but suddenly Buttercup saw you burst into here. Really dude, is everything fine? At least come out and talk to us. Plus it smells really bad in here and there's a line of dudes.”
There's some truth to the matter and I wiped my face and pushed open the stall with a little too much force but luckily he grabbed it and just nodded towards the exit.
Robin and Buttercup are standing outside and luckily, I don’t see Mitch.
“Wanna explain what happened?” Robin asks as she hands me a tissue from her purse.
“No. I just wanna go home.”
Buttercup looks arounds then back to me. “Where's Mitch.”
“Probably somewhere and never wants to see me again.” I mumble.
“What?” She asks and looks towards Butch then back to me.
Butch raised his brow. “Mike, did you tell him?”
“Tell him what?” Buttercup asked.
It was at that moment that Buttercup didn’t know that I was practically in love with her best friend. Maybe Robin and Butch planned this together but it didn’t matter, not anymore. I would be losing two friends after this. Great.
“Look. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.” My throat is dry and it hurts and there's no doubt that my face is red and flushed with tears. “I'm just gonna call my mom to come get me.”
“Come on Mike don’t go.” Robin asked and she padded my arm.
“You don’t get it, Robin.” I spat. “You don’t understand what I just did. Thanks to someone’s dumb idea, I now lost my best friend. And for what? Did we really think he would like me back? That he could even see me in such a way? I don’t even know if he’s gay or let alone into dudes. But who gives fuck? I don’t.”
Butch took a step towards me but my anger only rose. “C’mon Mike I'm sure-”
“This was a stupid idea Butch!” I yelled and at that moment I didn’t care what anyone thought. I was embarrassed and hurt. “I just want to be alone.” I pushed past him and the others, ignoring everything they were saying because it didn’t matter any more.
It didn’t matter that my friends tried to help something that shouldn’t have even been considered. It was just a stupid crush. Nothing more, nothing less. Hopefully by the new semester, it would be gone and out of my system…. hopefully. A stupid crush that I’d been harboring for years and titling on a scale of something more.
It wasn’t long until my tears dried and I found myself among the section of carnival games. All of the rigged and hard to win and if you did win, it would be a small sappy prize that you would toss into a garbage bag or try to sell for a nickel at a garage sale.
There were darts and guessing the weight of a small pig. The basketball tossing and hitting the giant hammer looked tempting but instead I walked to the game that no one had ever won. Ring toss. A game of chance and so incredibly rigged, it's a miracle if one prize is won in a year.
Without a second thought, I gave up a fresh twenty dollar bill and the girl working, who clearly hated her job, handed me the biggest bucket of rings. Enough to keep me entertained until I call my mom or muster up enough courage to ask Butch for a ride back like a dog with its tail inbetween its legs.
I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I could be okay with this. But I was stupid. Stupid to think that the boy I had a crush on, one of my best friends, would like me back, or even be into dudes for that matter. But no, instead of having my secret crush kept, ya know, a secret, the one person who shouldn’t know, did.
I tossed another ring into the sea of bottles, the high pitched clinking echoed for just a moment as another was tossed. Maybe this was pointless. Maybe trying to figure out feelings was a waste of time because in all honesty, I never knew.
Like the plastic rings people pay way too much for, you jump and you think you’ll land on that bottle, secure the prize and show everyone up. Prove that you can do the impossible.
But then you miss and reality comes back. The bucket dwindles down and soon you’re left with nothing but regret for trying and shorting eight bucks.
“Hey.”
I turned, of course he would follow me. Why wouldn’t he? He was probably here just to tell me to let it go and sweep it under the rug, and say it's not weird when it totally is. Or he was going to come out and say that maybe our friendship has come to its expiration date.
“Oh. Hey.” I threw another one, missing again.
I tried not to care as he stood next to me but I passed him the bucket and he took his own shot, missing, just like me.
“Have you been crying?” He asked and there was no way around it.
“Yep.” I popped the p and threw another ring. “Look Mitch, I’m sorry what I said-”
“Don’t be.”.
Oh
“Most guys would just push someone like me away if that happened.”
He hummed and tossed a ring, missing. “Well, I’m not like most guys and I thought that was pretty clear. Especially after those jerks. I value your friendship too much to get worried or upset.”
I looked over at him, and that in itself was a mistake, because it would be just my luck that the other carnival games with their bright flashing lights would surround him and make it seem like he was glowing. The lights soften his features, a small twinkle on the black orb of his earring and making those very so light freckles appear.
Almost like a painting hung up in a museum. You think the trip is boring, and for the most part it is. A few interesting things here and there but just as you are about to leave, you find a room you hadn’t explored. It could be nothing and you could leave, forgetting everything in the last three hours and moving on with your life.
Or it could be life changing. As if when you walked in there, the most captivating painting was on that wall and you wonder how you skipped it in the first place. You stare at it, taking in the picture itself and the meaning. Stepping closer and looking at the paint strokes, the time taken to make this is clear and it's full of questions and mystery. The small plaque on the wall fails to answer.
He picked up the last ring. It twirled in his fingertips unsure of where to go.
“I kept thinking, you know.” He said. “I remember watching a show, a random cartoon and an ad for a pride festival popped up. I thought nothing of it, didn’t know what it meant at the time but my father did. He was outraged and changed the channel, screamed and shouted saying that if his son ever was caught doing something like that…” Mitch paused and closed his palm.
I could see the hurt in his eyes as he sighed.
“Then he would have no son. So when I found out what it all meant and learned about myself....I thought it would be best to never act on it. No matter how much I wanted to look towards another guy, I couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry Mitch, I didn’t know.” And it was the truth. I wanted to mentally slap myself for not realizing that he was, in fact, gay as well. Way to go Mike, your gay-dar is broken. But then again, you can’t just tell a sexuality clear as day. I can’t blame him for hiding it, after everything with his dad.
He sighed again. “But when you told me that. Told me you wanted me, I think I started to realize that I would rather have something I want no matter what others think of me. I envy how you can just come out and be proud, as you should, but I wish I was that brave instead of a coward.”
“Mitch.” I slid my hand on top of his cautiously. He didn’t flinch or have any indication of pulling away. “I’m scared every day. Scared that someone might yell something offensive or even try to hurt me. Just like those assholes did earlier.But I can’t stop those things from happening but I can choose to not let them affect me. It's hard but you know you’re surrounded by people who care about you. Plus your best friend is an actual superhero.”
“I know, I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to date such a fuck up like me.”
Fuck up? Did this boy really think that?
“I would never see you as that.” I said honestly. “It's normal for us to have conflicting feelings when someone in our life isn't supportive. It's never gonna be a walk in the park or smooth sailing but when you're with someone who cares about you, it makes it easier.”
He sighed for the hundredth time. It was clear the gears in his mind were running at full steam and he looked at the ring in his hand then to the bottles.
“I guess you’re right Mike. I guess I was thrown off that the dude I've liked since kindergarten likes me back.” He looked towards me and tossed the ring, not bothering to pay attention. “I just hope you haven't changed you mind-”
The next thing I know, my hand is tugging on his worn leather collar and his lips are pressed to mine.
I never thought that my first kiss would be as enchanting as this. You always think it's magical and fulfilling but in reality it's probably a mess of lips that don’t move quite as well and somehow there's a tongue doing whatever it wants. I guess I can’t count this as my first kiss because Robin had peaked me on the lips in third grade, also giving me the clear sexual awakening of how I never want another woman to come near me again, but this was different.
He tasted like cotton candy which I should find gross and oddly weird but I didn’t mind one bit. At the beginning there was a bit of hesitation, or maybe he was caught off guard since I did interrupt him but I couldn’t help myself. Stupid hormones. He wasted no time kissing me back and I even felt a hand on my waist pulling towards him. Although it lasted only a few mere seconds, it was like a lifetime of waiting had lifted.
When we pulled apart, loud speakers and alarms went off above us. I looked towards the game, I noticed one single plastic ring was stuck on the bottle. The worker smiled at us before nodding.
“Wow, I can’t believe you made it, especially without looking.” She said and I looked to Mitch who just shrugged.
“What? You kissed me, I just threw it.” He smiled brightly and I hugged him.
“So what will it be?” I asked him and he turned towards the prizes.
“Well, what about that dinosaur?”
“I love dinosaurs.”
Mitch smiled. “I know.”
The worker used a ladder to climb and retrieve the massive blue dinosaur prize. As a kid, i used to dream of winning such a cool thing but know, I think I got something better. Mitch handed it to me with a blush and I looked at it with just as much pink on my cheeks.
“Ya know.” Mitch started. “I have enough tickets for one last ride. Maybe the ferris wheel?”
“That sounds good.” He reached out his hand and I took it. Before I could blink, I felt his lips press against my cheek.
“I don’t like to see you cry.” He said.
I simply hummed and we walked hand in hand to the ferris wheel before deciding to give the prize to some kids. He handed the tickets to the worker as we climbed into the cart and began to go up. He threw his arm over my shoulder like he did on the rollercoaster, but this time, I leaned against him and let those emotions I tried to keep at bay, run wild.
“I’m really glad Butch dragged me here.” I said honestly and Mitch only laughed and silenced me with his lips pressed against mine.
“Me too.”
When we pulled apart, a few questions still lingered in my mind.
“You mean, you’ve liked me this entire time? And you knew I was gay?” I asked hesitantly. It wasn’t a secret, the last part at least.
He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick he's had since he was little. “I mean I wasn’t hundred percent sure, I thought maybe it was a one time thing or just happened occasionally. But as we got older, more specifically high school, I think that's when it hit me.” He sighed. “All I knew was that I wanted to be with you until my heart stopped racing.”
His eyes met mine. I’ve always hated when people didn’t see the beauty in brown eyes. They think they are dull and lifeless, only one hue but that's far from the truth. Mitch’s eyes had spots of gold and a slight tint of green, breathtaking to say the least.
“I mean it’s a shame we spent our high school years just as friends.” My hand went on top of his. “But I’d rather have you as my friend instead of losing you so I understand. But what about your dad? Will be okay with us dating-or well I assume we should-”
“I don’t care about his opinion of us. Plus we would be idiots not to date at this point. If he doesn’t accept. That's his loss not mine.” His gaze went to the sky where a firework exploded.
The colors lit up in the sky and we realized we got lucky as our cart stopped at the very top. It felt unreal to be sitting next to my best friend and now, boyfriend. There's always moments in your life that you feel like were meant to be. Maybe it's the career you chose or the person you marry. Milestones that are already set in stone and fate just happens to bring you together, all that stuff. And as I looked at him through heavy lashes I thought that maybe, just maybe, the stars aligned on this one.
That or I would have to admit that Butch is the king of romance, even though he did literally nothing today and this was all me. Either way, Mikey boy’s got a man.
--
I hope you enjoyed love!!
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readysetstarker · 4 years
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KINKTOBER DAY 8: JEALOUSY/POSSESSIVENESS
Read on AO3
hey, y’all. remember how i said that i couldn’t work on a sim!tony fic w/o thinking of @cagestark? this is the fic i was referencing. i’m so glad i can finally post it, bc god i enjoyed writing this one so much. i honestly might come back to this and make it longer, but who knows? y’all enjoy!
warnings: peter is an adult. sim!tony and dark!peter. daddy kink, choking, cheating, slight degradation, some of it coming from peter about a stranger.
Peter hated Tony so goddamn much.
He knew he looked angry and didn’t bother trying to hide his glower. Tony stood across the busy ballroom with his arm around the waist of one woman in a short black dress, and his other arm was extended to tilt up the chin of another, with a silver-sequin dress so flashy that it nearly blinded Peter. His eyes, a dark crimson, altered by the Extremis and radioactive venom racing through him, followed every move of Tony’s fingers on both women.
The wine glass in his hand would be so easy to shatter. He could break the glass holding his drink and use it as a makeshift blade to slice her throat open, really give Tony something to get between his fingers other than her dark mahogany hair.
As delectable as that thought was, he settled for something tamer and less flashy: the attention of the older man just a few feet down from him at the bar. He wasn’t much taller than Tony, with dirty blond hair slicked back and a smile that would make anyone who saw it swoon. Anyone who wasn’t Peter, that is. Still, he’d do for the time being.
He let the man buy him a drink, then two drinks, then three. Let his hands wander a little too low and grab at his ass, let him lean in so close that Peter could smell the brandy on his breath and the lingering scent of mint. He refrained from sending the man through the floor-to-ceiling window behind them when he felt fingers dig into his ass and flashed a sultry smile when the man suggested they “find somewhere more private.”
Peter could do private. He could also send Tony a look over his shoulder when the man took his hand and pulled him off towards a side door. Peter caught Tony’s eyes and simply waved before the ballroom disappeared, and they were left to wander the connecting hallway to find an empty room.
An unlocked conference room proved to be a sufficient hideout, and Peter had barely taken a step inside before he was shoved hard against the table, and the man was on him. He kissed like an inexperienced high schooler, groped like one, too. Did his partners enjoy this or just put up with him for a pretty face?
Either way Peter kissed back. (Maybe he could teach the man a thing or two, make this kiss a little more enjoyable.) He threaded his fingers through the man’s gelled hair and let him manhandle him until Peter was sat on the table with his legs wrapped around the man’s middle and his hard cock digging into Peter’s hip. Peter had never been so soft in his life.
A hand that was a little too rough groped at his flaccid cock. Peter hissed and had to bite back against punching the man so hard he broke his ribs.
“What’s the matter, princess?” he slurred into Peter's neck. Peter was sure he was being drooled on. “You having trouble getting it up? Too nervous? That’s okay, Daddy can help you.”
Peter's stomach churned. The fingers blindly and clumsily grabbing at his cock were too rough and uncoordinated to feel good. If anything, they hurt and annoyed him. He was now seriously considering throwing the man through a window and giving up.
Until the door to the conference room opened just as his belt was undone, and over the man’s shoulder, he could see Tony, eyes burning with anger as he took in the scene before him. Peter’s eyes flashed when they met his, and he snaked his arms around the man’s shoulders, heels digging into the small of his back to bring him closer.
“Oh, Daddy,” he moaned into the man’s ear, giving his neck a long, wet stripe with his tongue. His eyes never left Tony’s.
“You want me to fuck you on this table, babe?” The man slid his other hand around to cup Peter’s ass and rock their hips together. Peter felt nothing when the man’s filthy clothed cock rubbed against his thigh. “Want Daddy to make you scream?”
“More like snore, if that soft little thing is anything to go by.”
Oh, Peter thought, he speaks.
The man he had lured away from the crowd jumped and let out a startled yelp. He couldn’t have torn himself away from Peter faster if Peter had put a foot between them and kicked him into the drywall. He was still half-hard when he turned around, eyes wide and hands flying up in surrender. Even in the dark of the room, the only source of light a streetlamp from outside, Peter could see his face going pale.
If he was being honest, Peter was surprised the man hadn’t pissed himself.
Tony stepped into the room and let the door fall shut behind him. His eyes were on Peter as he took one step inside, then another, hands shoved into his pockets.
He tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips. Peter leaned back on his hands and hiked one of his feet up onto the table so that his legs were spread. In any other circumstances, Peter knew this would have enticed Tony. Instead, it only seemed to piss him off. His eyes were shining in the darkness, icy blue and cold. Tony's face never changed from his calm stare, but Peter could feel the anger rolling off his skin, could see the rage burning in the pools of blue.
“I don’t remember you being so desperate that you’d fuck any piece of garbage that bought you a drink,” Tony said. His voice was smooth, unbothered.
Peter sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and failed to fight off a proud smirk. He tilted his head to the side as well, fingers drumming on the mahogany table he was sat on. “That’s rich coming from you. I saw you with the whore in silver. Did it turn you on, seeing her in your colors? Fuckin’ dirty old man is easier than me.”
Tony sniffed, swallowed. He clicked his tongue.
“I never let them touch me like that, baby boy.” Tony jerked his head towards Peter’s playmate, who was now whimpering and knocking his knees together. What a cliche, but Peter wasn’t given time to let his thoughts linger on it before Tony’s hand was enveloped in silver, and the light from his repulsor was near blinding after so long in darkness.
The gauntlet purred to life with a shot charging. The light cradled in its palm grew brighter and brighter with each passing second, and Tony pointed it right at the man’s chest. His eyes left Peter’s to the trembling man before him and, ah, he had definitely pissed himself now.
“Should I kill you for touching what’s mine?” Tony asked. His words were ice. Peter’s cock jumped in his slacks, growing harder by the second as Tony advanced on his previous partner until the gauntlet was flush with his chest. “You put your filthy, disgusting little hands on my boy. Though, I have to hand it to you, I’ve never seen his cock so soft in my life. I’m actually more offended that you couldn’t get him hard, if I’m being honest.”
“Bold of you to claim me as yours when you’re out there ogling women. Go find that brown-haired whore and let my Daddy treat me right, for once.” Peter leaned back on his elbows, arching his back just right. Even if Tony couldn’t see him, he could catch the other man’s attention.
Tony turned his head so fast that Peter was surprised he didn’t crack his neck. He chewed on his thumb nail and smiled at Tony. The quiet anger in his eyes made Peter’s heart skip and thud in his chest.
“Oh, my sweet, sweet boy.” Tony dropped his hand and sauntered over to where Peter was laid out on the table, settling himself in between Peter’s spread thighs. He took a moment to rake his eyes down Peter’s body, drink in the sight of his pretty little boy with his legs wide apart for a stranger, and his jaw set tight.
The gauntlet whirred to life again, and the man fell to his knees and begged for mercy.
But Tony never showed mercy.
It was why Peter loved him.
He let his hand fall from his lips as Tony’s fingers wrapped tight and hard around his throat, and Peter could feel the recoil of the repulsor’s blast rock through Tony’s body into his. He felt the splash of blood on his cheek, smelled its coppery tang, and heard the body fall to the floor. A few wet breaths escaped his bloody chest, a weak sob, and then silence.
Peter was so hard that he hurt. He squirmed under Tony’s grip tightening around his neck, whining as Tony forced his head down and back until he was lying against the table’s flat surface. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was nothing but a wheeze.
Above him, Tony chuckled and leaned over him.
“I ought to teach you a lesson, Peter,” Tony growled. His lips were inches from Peter’s. If he leaned down just a little, just enough, Peter could kiss him. He could part his lips and let Tony’s tongue taste the drinks that had been bought for him, the mouth of the other man. “Ought to fuck you here to remind you of your place. You know who you belong to, Peter.”
Peter licked his lips, grinning when Tony used his gauntlet to twist his fist into Peter’s clothing and hold him down on the table. He let out a little moan when he heard it whirring.
“Do your worst,” he said and hooked a leg over Tony’s hip.
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intriga-hounds · 4 years
Text
week 7
you had to write the same scene from 5 POVs. le guin also advised using “little to no dialogue” in order to avoid muddying the narrative voice. 
this was LONG. we decided to write it as homework. i wrote the first 4 in one sitting, very quickly. i dreaded the last one all week and finally sat down to write it. it took an hour. a lot of it was bc i couldn’t remember what bug explodes as a defense mechanism and spent some time on google. anyway involved narrator is...a lot. 
it’s more misanthra, but idk if i’ll keep writing her for this club or not.
Part 1
A: Limited Third, Misanthra
The pain was incredible, but Misanthra had expected that. She was just pleased she had had both the time and the guts to shove the knife in twice before Ridian had found her. 
The servants were carrying her to bed, somehow both carefully and hastily, and the movement just made it all hurt more. Misanthra could feel the hot blood on her shirt, on her stomach, pooling, dripping, thick and slick. Her hands, folded together over one of her wounds, trembled. Part adrenaline, part agony, part excitement. 
Her mother, hysterical, hurled orders and accusations, but Misanthra was beyond hearing the individual words. The terror in her mother’s voice alone was music to her, a song she would replay in her mind over and over until the day she died. 
On the bed now, Misanthra let her body sink and grow heavy. Two servants each took a cloth and pressed it hard against the deep wounds in Misanthra’s abdomen, trying to staunch the bleeding. Misanthra knew they would save her, but they would not save the life-giving parts of her that her mother sought so desperately to protect and control. 
Misanthra listened to her mother yowl like a wounded dog, and she felt exultant tears seep down her face. She closed her eyes and let out a single, clipped laugh. The giddiness and pain within her made her body shudder.
I’m free, I’m free, I’m free.
B: Limited Third, Morgana
Lady Morgana Sisero watched in horror and awe as her daughter was carried bleeding to her bed. Misanthra was stubborn, she knew. She always had been, and always would be. But even Morgana had not expected her to go this far--to endanger her own life to keep marriage at bay, or else take it off the table entirely. 
Morgana knew she had screamed every insult she could think of, but she wondered if Misanthra was listening. She was never listening. 
Morgana had already ordered one servant to run for a doctor, but she sent a second, younger one now for good measure. Then she commanded two more to stop the bleeding, to save her daughter, to save the granddaughters she still might have in the years to come if only Misanthra would remain intact.
We’re dying out, don’t you realize that? Don’t you realize how selfish you are?
Finally pausing in her shouting, Morgana realized she was trembling. She placed a hand over her mouth, hot tears flowing over her knuckles in rapid succession. Who would there be, when she was finally gone? The flowers that had earned their family worldwide fame would wilt and vanish from the world forever, as would the Sisero name and the Calibos altogether. A race of people, vanished off the face of the planet, because of a girl who would not marry. 
From across the room, Morgana heard Misanthra choke--or was it laughter? Morgana drew closer to the bed and saw the deranged smile on her daughter’s face. Without thinking, she slapped her. 
Ugly girl.
Part 2: Detached Narrator
Sometime late in the evening, Misanthra Sisero hid away in the garden and stabbed herself twice with a kitchen knife. One of the Siseros’ servants, who was called Ridian, found her hunched among the fire lilies with the bloodied knife discarded beside her. He ran back to the house for help, then followed as two other servants carried Misanthra inside. 
Lady Sisero was notified, and she came up immediately from her office just in time to watch as Misanthra was carried into her bedroom. She asked who had found her, and when Ridian told her it was him, she grew angry. After insulting him, she turned and insulted her daughter, calling her every ugly name she could think of. 
Misanthra, now lowered onto her bed, just bled and laughed, even after her mother slapped her.
Part 3:
Observer-Narrator: Ridi, a servant
I had never seen anyone do anything like this, not ever. My father committed suicide when I was five years old, but I didn’t actually witness it, and in all honesty, I never understood it. 
Watching Lady Misanthra being carried up to her bedroom felt like being out of my own body. Why would a person hurt themselves like that? Sure, Misanthra had always been wild, had always been unpredictable and headstrong, but to stab herself twice? It was clear now that she had not intended to die, or she would have gone for her heart. I did not know which moral argument mother and daughter were in the middle of--there were so many--but it seemed to me that Misanthra had won. 
Lady Sisero appeared in a rush and demanded to know who had found her daughter. When I told her, she told me that I was a stupid boy (not a new insult) and then went after her daughter in a tirade of far uglier language. I still had little clarity on the situation until the moment Lady Misanthra was lowered onto her bed and Lady Sisero called her “selfish.” 
“You’ve ruined us,” she went on. 
That illuminated everything. The moral argument that I had wondered about was about marriage. More than that, it was about progeny. It was about the Calibos. 
As I watched Lady Misanthra bleed, I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t found her. Would she have died, and would Lady Sisero’s reaction have been the same? Shouting, insulting, mourning the loss of a legacy? I was sure that she would not have shed a tear for Lady Misanthra herself, only for the womb that had been spoiled. 
I looked from Lady Misanthra’s wounds to her face. Did she regret what she had done? It seemed she hadn’t, for she was smiling. She laughed, and that was apparently the last straw. Lady Sisero marched to the bed and slapped her hard, making the rest of us all flinch, but Lady Misanthra just kept laughing and laughing, with blood on her teeth.
Part 4: Involved Author
Ridi had gone outside to smoke and was sitting on the wrought iron bench outside the back door when he sensed that he was not alone. It was not unusual for the groundskeepers to still be out at this hour, but they weren’t usually in the formal gardens that sprawled behind the house; they were below in the flower fields, or in the greenhouses, giving one last misting or watering to the temperamental exotic flowers that the Sisero family was known for. 
It was the sound of crunching gravel that first caught his attention. A rabbit or ground squirrel, maybe. But then he heard a breath, too human, and the rustle of fabric. Thinking two of the younger servants must be stealing away behind the fire lilies for a quick, ecstatic dalliance, he marched over to sully the mood. Instead, he rounded the first line of lilies to find himself standing over Lady Sisero’s daughter, Misanthra, bleeding on the gravel, with a bloody kitchen knife discarded beside her.
The wounds were, evidently, self-inflicted, but Ridi did not yet know their purpose. Thinking at first that she had meant to kill herself, and also thinking her quite close to completion, he rushed at once to the house, shouting (quite hysterically, Misanthra thought) for help. 
However, Misanthra’s life had not been in any great danger that night. Under the guise of curiosity and intending to furthering her education, Misanthra had grilled her cousin, Tetrophos, on the form, function, and precise locations of every womanly cog needed to form human life. This had been some weeks ago, when he had been visiting from Clova. He was a doctor now and, always pleased to make proof that his lengthy education had been worth the cost, he had explained everything with enough depth to satisfy a surgeon. 
Misanthra, thus, had taken his advice, though not in the way he had hoped. Rather than following in his footsteps to a profession in medicine, she had used this interview to remove from herself the very talent she wished her own mother had never been given: the ability to host a child. 
There were numerous reasons Misanthra did it, but a scorn for children was not one of them. In fact, she quite liked children, and if anyone had asked her if she wanted to be a mother, she would have answered in the affirmative. Unfortunately, no one had asked her if she wanted to be a wife--and more than that, a wife to a husband--and this violence against her own body was the best she could do without killing whatever little lord her mother might cook up for her. Misanthra was many things, but she was not the kind of person to marry a man, use him to further her bloodline, and then poison him at the dinner table. That was more her mother’s fancy, and considering Misanthra didn’t appreciate her own existence within the confines of the Sisero Estate, she wasn’t about to subject another child to it. 
Help came quickly. The servants, frightened of what would happen to them if the young Lady wasn’t saved, carried her up to her bedroom while someone else went to fetch Lady Sisero and the resident doctor. Ridi followed along as if in a stupor. At some point, he had dropped his cigarette, but he wasn’t sure when it had happened. 
At this very moment, Lady Sisero was in her study signing a letter to the Kallista family, who had a son in want of a wife. It was a good match; they were pure Calibos, not a speck of unclean blood, with a successful fishing operation in Astrapahl. Their son was young and inexperienced, and he had the personality of a river stone, but he was pureblooded and wealthy and what else really mattered anyway? Misanthra would produce satisfactory children, and the Calibos would survive. 
When a servant burst into the room to give the Lady the news, she learned that these months of politics, dinners, and favors had been squandered. She got up immediately.
Lady Sisero arrived on the scene just as Misanthra was lowered into her bed. There was a wrath inside her she had not unleashed in decades. After spitting every insult she could think of, both at Misanthra and at the surrounding servants, she felt not unlike the soft, tender sea cucumber, turning inside out, viscera and acid her final lines of defense against this predator, this agitator that had pushed her to the brink.
To Misanthra, it was more the opposite. Lady Sisero, to her, was the leathery, warty toad that had so smugly just consumed the bombardier beetle--crafty little creature about to detonate in its belly and free itself through the back door. 
“Free” is exactly what Misanthra was. She was free from expectations, free from her mother, free from marriage--free even from the Sisero name. She was nothing now, a husk, useless save for her own limited personal potential. Though she was in incredible agony, it was negligible compared to the feeling of emancipation, of manumission, of adrenaline flooding her brain. 
The feeling of it all, the sheer ecstasy, was enough to make her laugh, and that singular moment felt like a welcome eternity before her mother’s sharp slap hit her cheek. 
That slap was only a match head to the igniter, the last scrape to be endured before it all went up in flames. Misanthra laughed harder, madder, louder.
Below the house, Ridi’s glowing cigarette rolled with the breeze and landed at the base of a fire lily stem. The ensuing flames, Ridi thought many years later, were as symbolic as they were real. 
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