#listen look me in the eye and tell me half the torture wasn’t just the ongoing villain monologue | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brewsterispunkk · 1 year

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THE TUTOR

part 2/4

pairing: eddie munson x afab!reader (period is mentioned), eddie munson x fem!reader

WC: 4.1k

summary: reader and eddie begin their little deal.

warnings: idiots. just idiots. also brief SA-- nothing explicit, just groping--NOT main pairing, recreational drug use

A/N: here is part 2! hope u love it! pls pls pls leave feedback ;) read it and weep.

Senior Year Bucket List

1) Get drunk

2) Skip Class

3) Do a drug

4) Sneak out

5) Skinny dip

6) Get a boyfriend, lose my virginity

You sighed and shook your head as soon as you’d written that last part, hands only half-shaking.

This was fine, you thought to yourself.

It wasn’t weird, you kept telling yourself. It wasn’t. Eddie himself had asked you to come to school Monday with an itemized list of what exactly you’d felt like you’d missed out on. “A bucket list of sorts” he called it.

You had to keep yourself from adding “feeling safe” to the list of things you’d felt you’d missed out on.

That was difficult for you sometimes.

For the most part, you’d been able to compartmentalize what had happened to you last summer: the deaths, the torture, the “mall fire.” The rest of Hawkins knew that you’d survived it, along with Steve, Robin, and the kids. You’d gotten away with minor bruising to the face and neck after a Russian tried to choke you in an effort to get you to talk. It wasn’t ideal, but it could have been worse. Steve had been the one to take the brunt of the torture. You and Robin had screamed yourselves hoarse while they beat him in the other room.

You sometimes still had nightmares about the sick sound of their fists hitting his face.

When you’d emerged as one of the survivors of what they were calling the “Starcourt Mall Fire,” your mother had been relieved. After your father had split when you were ten, you were all she had. Still, she hadn’t been prepared for the effects of what had happened to you. To be fair, neither were you. Neither were any of you.

You’d always been shy, ever since you were a kid, but now instead of having a generally quiet disposition, you were skittish. The slightest noise made you jump, and you couldn’t stand to listen to Reagan talk about the U.S.S.R. on the news without having a panic attack. The nightmares had subsided after about two months, though they returned whenever you were stressed.

You found you always looked over your shoulder, always looking out for some unknown thing that might be stalking you. When people talk about saving the world, they never talk about the ugly parts. About the broken fingernails and the insomnia and the muffling of sobs behind your hand as you break down in the girls’ bathroom.

It’s a lonely thing, being a hero. An unfair thing. You felt like that night at Starcourt, when Hopper and Billy Hargrove hadn’t emerged from the fire, your adolescence had been stolen from you. That it had disappeared with the smoke and ash as it engulfed Scoops Ahoy and the rest of the shopping center. You hope that if Eddie actually does follow through with this little deal of yours, you’ll be able to experience at least a little of it.

- - - -

“So,” Eddie drummed his hands on the top of your desk as he slid into the seat in front of you. “What do you have for me, miss tutor girl?”

He was awfully chipper for 7:00 in the morning. You blinked at him and skated your gaze across the room.

It was close enough to first period for the room to be reasonably filled with students, most too sluggish to notice. But a few girls towards the front looked over their shoulders at him, eyes narrowed, before zooming in on you, where they widened curiously.

“What, scared for your reputation?” Eddie was only half-joking, his eyes a little guarded. They narrowed at you.

You shook your head almost comically.

“No,” you burst. “No, not at all. Just had a weird night.”

“Hm,” he looked at you skeptically. You rolled your eyes.

“We’ve already talked about this, Eddie. I don’t have a reputation for you to ruin.”

He snorted at that.

“Alright then,” he leaned forward, his chin on his fists. “What’s got you so skittish, then? Another crazy party like Friday?”

“No,” you sighed, leaning down to retrieve your list from your backpack. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Okay.” He looked like he didn’t believe you. You didn’t blame him; you couldn’t have been that convincing. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Did you bring it?” He asked.

You nodded, slamming the sheet of notebook paper onto the desk and slid it over to him.

“Here you go,” you pulled at your sleeve nervously. “Just don’t laugh, okay?”

Eddie looked at you and feigned shock.

“Me? Laugh at you? I’m offended.”

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you felt your cheeks flush and your stomach plummet. “I’m just–It’s embarrassing. I’m being very… vulnerable and if you’re gonna laugh, we can just forget about it—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” his warm hands covered yours where they were sitting on the desk. He squeezed your palms reassuringly. “I was kidding. I won’t laugh. Scout’s honor.”

You looked into his eyes for a moment to see if he was serious. All you saw was sincerity. You let out a deep breath.

“You were a boy scout?”

His lips spread in a wry smile as he turned to the paper.

“Nope,” he unfolded the list. “It’s the thought that counts, though, right?”

You shrugged.

“I guess?”

“Okay, what do we have here?”

You sat in awkward silence as Eddie scanned the page, dark eyes focused. Hie brows were furrowed and his lips pouted in concentration.

“‘Get drunk,’ we can certainly make that happen. ‘Skip a class,’ you won’t need to ask me twice.” He stopped for a moment and huffed a laugh.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

“What–”

“‘Do a drug.’” He said with a secret smile–like he knew something you didn’t.

“Yeah,” you drew out. “I figured you’d know a guy.”

“Oh,” Eddie laughed. “I know a guy.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled at you, before turning his eyes back to the page. “Ohh.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkled as he turned them back to you. He looked like a sprite, you thought. With his wild hair and mischievous smile. He was gorgeous.

“‘Get a boyfriend,’” he set the list down on the table. “Am I going to be playing match-maker, teacher’s pet?”

You rolled your eyes. He was teasing you.

“If that’s what it takes,” you quipped, your nervousness having melted away. “And I am not a teacher’s pet.”

“Whatever you say,” he raised an eyebrow at you.

As you opened your mouth to respond, the clearing of a throat interrupted you.

You looked up to see Cameron Reyes leering over Eddie.

“Hey. You’re in my seat,” he sneered. “Beat it.”

Eddie sighed, before slinking out of the seat slowly, taking his time.

“My apologies,” he smiled at Cameron, before dropping into his own seat, next to you.

You glared at the back of Cameron’s head.

Why did he have to be such an asshole?

Cameron was on the swim team and you’d had classes with him since Kindergarten. He hadn’t always been a dick; In fourth grade when you’d skinned your knee, he’d helped you up and walked you to the nurse’s office. It wasn’t until high school, when he’d begun running with guys like Tommy Hagan, that he’d changed. Now, you couldn’t stand him.

That was the way of things, though, in Hawkins. There were the bullies and the bullied—rarely anything in between.

- - - -

As you walked down the halls, you felt their eyes on your legs and you regretted letting Robin convince you to wear this skirt.

The denim felt heavy on your hips. You wiped your clammy hands on the blue material, wishing that you didn’t have to walk practically across school to get to pre-calc.

“Looking good,” someone whistled from behind you. You felt dread seep down your spine.

Please no, not here.

This wasn’t the first time you’d been catcalled.

The first time was when you and Robin were thirteen and walking to the general store down the road from your houses. A few men in a pick-up truck had rolled their windows down and told you in great detail all they’d liked to do to you. You and Robin hid inside the general store until the clerk called your mom to pick you up. You hadn’t even gotten your first period yet.

However, this was the first time you’d been catcalled at school. It still felt just as scary as the first time.

“Where have you been hiding those legs, teacher’s pet?”

You whipped around at the nickname, bristling at it. You hated when people called you that, unless that person was Eddie.

You were faced with a basketball player; one of the guys who hung out with Jason Carver and sometimes Lucas. Thomas Reed. Your skin crawled at the way he and the two boys behind him looked at you.

“Fuck off,” you spat at him before turning on your heel and walking faster to your destination.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that!” He called after you, but you could barely hear him over the blood rushing in your ears.

It only calmed when you’d reached your classroom.

- - - -

“Are you even listening to me?” You smacked his hand where it was tapping on the wood of the library table. Outside, a heavy autumn rain pummeled the sidewalk, the trees swaying with it.

“Yes,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“What did I just say?”

“That…Holden is a whiny little bitch.”

You sighed, bringing a hand to your forehead.

“No.” You ground out. “And if you write that in your essay, Ms. Taylor is going to fail you and me, so please, can you take this seriously?”

He sighed and had the nerve to look a little guilty. It made your heart clench a bit.

In the few sessions you’d tutoring Eddie, your crush had done anything but lessened. In fact, it had grown tenfold. It was one thing to admire him from across the room, it was another completely to spend time with him and actually be able to talk to him.

You found that in addition to being cute and pensive, he was kind and not at all the scary loner that everyone painted him to be. If he hadn’t cemented his reputation by being an avid player of D&D, he would’ve been popular, you thought.

And all this goes to day: you couldn’t stay mad at him, even when you wanted to.

“Okay,” he said, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. You briefly reminded yourself to offer to cut them for him later—he’d been complaining about them getting in his face all session. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“What?” Your attention snapped back to him. Eddie looked at you like you’d grown another head.

“Uhh, I asked what you were saying?”

“Oh! Oh yeah,” you shook your head. “I zoned out.”

“I gathered that.” Eddie snorted, leaning forward. “Uh, off-topic, but I was wondering, when do you wanna get started on that bucket list?”

“Oh. Whenever.”

“I was thinking we could start this week.”

“So soon?” You practically squeaked. As excited you were about these new experiences, you were nervous. Especially because the person you’d be experiencing them with was Eddie. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

“No time like the present,” Eddie’s voice was chipper. “So, what did you wanna start with?”

“I thought we’d start small and work up to something bigger?” You asked.

“That sounds good,” Eddie nodded. “How does skipping class work for this week?”

“Ugh, not well actually.” You sighed, sour. “We have that exam this week in Taylor’s and then for Chem I have—”

“Relax, we don’t have to start with that one. Hmm, what else…”

“We could always—”

You cut yourself off, thinking better of it, but Eddie caught you.

“Nevermind.”

“No, what is it?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“If you wanna do something, you gotta tell me. It’s your bucket list, tutor-girl, not mine.”

“What if we…did a drug?”

God, you sounded like such a teacher’s pet saying it.

“Okay, teacher’s pet.” Eddie’s face was gleeful, excited. “You’re full of surprises. We can do that, definitely.”

“Okay,” you let out a breath.

“Any reason why you jumped to that one?”

“I just– I’m so stressed.” Thomas Reed’s lustful gaze flashed in your mind and you shook it off.

“You okay?” Eddie grabbed your hand on the table. You swallowed.

“Yeah,” you said lamely, mouth dry. “Just–a lot going on. School.”

“School,” Eddie repeated like he didn’t believe you. His eyes held yours for a moment before he nodded. “Okay teacher’s pet. Drugs it is. Any preference?”

“Nothing too crazy. Just something to take the edge off?”

“I can do that,” he smiled. “This is gonna be fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just think you’ll be funny high.”

“We’ll see,” you narrowed your eyes at him. He just smiled at you for a moment. Your eyes held his and you had the sudden urge to reach over the table and kiss him. You coughed, turning back to your notes in front of you.

“Anyway, what do you think Salinger’s trying to say?”

“Other than the fact that Holden is annoying?”

“Eddie, I’m serious—”

“I am too!” Eddie insisted. “All this shit about ‘phonies,’ when he’s just like them–”

“You know, I thought you’d relate to Holden.” You smirked at him.

“What?”

“Well, he’s an outcast—all teenage angst and—”

“I’m twenty, thank you.” He snapped at you, causing you to stutter.

“Oh, no I didn’t mean outcast like—”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie chuckled, waving you off. “It’s true. And I like it that way.”

You eyed him skeptically.

“Really, I do.” He folded his arms over his chest. “There are too many assholes in this school. If I wanted to fit in, I’d have to act like them. At least a little bit. Besides, I’ve got people. Not much, but I’ve got’em.”

You hummed.

“I’ve never thought of that.”

“What, Holden being a bitch, because—”

You smacked his arm, laughing.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Eddie giggled. He giggled. Your heart leapt. “What, though? What did I say that was so profound?”

He was being sarcastic, you could tell, but you didn’t care.

“The whole—having to sacrifice part of yourself to fit in. It’s true. I’d never thought of it like that.”

He hummed, eyes holding yours a moment, before his grin broke the moment.

“Maybe I should be the one tutoring, huh?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Turn to page 225.”

- - - -

Thomas found you again the next day, this time before school as you were at your locker.

“Hey there,” he smiled, sliding up next to you, effectively boxing you in between him and the locker. You jumped, moving as close to the locker as you could. “How are you today?”

“Leave me alone,” you ground out, trying to slip past him, but his hand in a hard grip on your arm stopped you.

“Aw, but we could have so much fun, teacher’s pet.”

“Let me go—”

“Where’s your little skirt?” he asked, grip tightening on your arm as you scrambled to get away.

You silently cursed whoever in the administration office had placed your locker on one of the most abandoned hallways in the school.

“Your legs looked so good—”

His palm came to squeeze the meat of your ass and your stomach churned. Without thinking, you spat in his face, palm coming to connect with his cheek.

“You cunt—”

“The hell is going on here?”

Eddie walked briskly up to you as you stepped back from Thomas. He moved to stand between you two, face hard. It was the mask he put on every day in front of the rest of the school, the ones who thought he was mean and scary. Only now, you weren’t sure how much of it was a mask.

“Nothing, man.” Thomas waved him off, wiping his face. He glared at you in a way that made your feet stick to the spot.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I said it's nothing.”

“And I said—”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled.

“Hey wait—”

Eddie moved to grab Thomas as he walked away from the two of you.

“I said it’s fine,” you said louder this time, and reached out to grab Eddie’s shoulder and pull him back toward you.

“Bullshit!” He spun and turned toward you, clearly pissed off. “What the hell was that?”

“I said it was fine, Eddie!” You burst at him, voice cracking. You took a deep breath.

“Honey, are you—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupted Eddie’s suddenly soft voice. You wiped a stray but of moisture from under your eyelid. “Let’s just go to class.”

“But–”

“Eddie, drop it,” you all but snapped, before adding lamely, “please.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Lead the way. Taylor’s gonna be pissed if I’m late again.”

You could practically hear him simmering as he walked a half-step behind you to class, but you didn’t care to acknowledge it. You’d made it abundantly clear you didn’t want to talk about it. If he pushed you, you might just snap.

As the two of you made your way down the halls, you felt eyes following you. They were all wondering: what was the quiet nerd doing with the freak? You didn’t care to acknowledge that either.

Let them wonder, you thought. I’m done caring about their rumor mill.

- - - -

“Jesus, Eddie.” You gasped and looked around.

There was no one in the janitor’s closet with you, but still: with that much weed on him, Eddie would be expelled and arrested. You had no idea how he’d gotten it in the two days since your conversation.

“What?” He asked, out of breath. He’d pulled you in here between third and fourth period, scarring you half to death in the process. “I told you I’d get the stuff.”

“Yeah, but I didn't know you meant so much,” you scoffed. Now, looking down at the green, wooly buds you were going to smoke, you felt your stomach flood with anxiety. You weren’t so sure about it anymore. “Where did you even get it?”

“I know a guy.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” you rolled your eyes frustratedly. “What did you drag me here for, anyway?”

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, looking genuinely confused at your hostile tone.

“To…let you know I got the stuff.” He drawled, before narrowing his eyes at you. “You okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Your stomach was churning. Between the stuff with Thomas that morning and now this, it was too much.

You pressed a hand to your abdomen as the faint smell of weed permeated from the open baggie between Eddie’s fingers.

God, he had pretty fingers, you thought somewhere in the back of your mind. It was something you'd revisit when you weren’t about to have a panic attack.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie rushed toward you as you doubled over, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath and calm the nausea. His hands found your shoulders, and another wave of the sharp smell of marijuana made you retreat further into your mind.

All of a sudden, you weren’t there; you were back at Starcourt with Billy Hargrove’s hands around your neck, the smell of the weed he’d smoked earlier still on his clothes.

Your breathing shallowed and you gasped, trying to breathe, but in vain.

“Hey, hey, breathe for me,” you faintly heard Eddie over your own heartbeat. “You gotta breathe, honey. C’mon, breathe for me. Deep breaths, like this.”

He pressed your palm to his chest as he inhaled deeply.

You looked up at him, at his wide, panicked eyes and did as he said, slowly inhaling a shaky breath.

“That’s it,” he took another deep breath, eyes not leaving yours. “Just like that. Okay. Another one, now.”

You took a deep breath, much easier this time, eyes never leaving his.

- - - -

“So…” Eddie began, eyes finally meeting yours. “You wanna tell me what the hell that was?”

You sighed, tilting your head back to lean against the wall where you were sitting. You looked up at the fluorescents in the janitor’s closet.

“That was a panic attack, Eddie,” you said monotonously.

“Don’t be a smart ass. What happened?”

You sighed again.

It had taken five minutes for Eddie to talk you down from your… episode. After, he’d let you catch your breath. You’d thought that you’d be able to just go about your day from there. You were stupid to think he’d let this go.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, I don't care about that. I just wanna know what the hell caused it. Did I–”

“No,” you said immediately. “You didn’t—”

“Did it have something to do with this morning?” Eddie’s voice was low, and as serious as you’d ever heard it.

You remained quiet, eyes trained on the light above you. Eddie took that as confirmation. His eyes flashed dangerously as you finally looked at him.

“I’ll kill him.”

Eddie moved to his feet with purpose, moving to open the closet door.

“No!” you grabbed his ankle, scrambling. “No, Eddie. It’s not worth it.”

“Bullshit, it’s not worth it—”

“Please, let’s just get out of here. Let’s go smoke. We’ve practically missed all of fourth period anyway.”

“Honey, he can’t just–”

“I know, Eddie,” you stood up level with him. “But right now, I really wanna leave, and that’s more important than whatever revenge plot you have.”

He looked at the door obstinately for another moment before turning back to you.

“Fine.” he said, not fully convinced.

“Thank you,” you took a calming breath. “Good. Besides, it’ll be like killing two birds with one stone, right? Two items off the bucket list at once.”

- - - -

Eddie’s car was smoky; a hotbox is what he called it.

As you took a long drag of the joint he passed to you, the deep, leafy aroma filled your lungs. As you breathed out, all worries or stress you had about school or Thomas or even the Upside Down diminished to an afterthought.

So this is why people smoke, you thought to yourself, giggling a little bit.

“What is it?” Eddie turned his head to you, unruly curls brushing your cheek.

The two of you were sprawled out on the floor of his van, shoulder to shoulder and head to head, about twenty minutes into the session. You’d learned this so far: that Eddie smelled good, like cigarettes and cologne and something musky, and that his eyes got even more glassy when he smoked. All that to say: you wanted to kiss him. Bad.

You passed him the joint, your fingers brushing his in the process.

“It’s just that I finally get why people do this so much,” you laughed.

“It’s been twenty minutes,” Eddie laughed with you.

“And I feel better already!”

Eddie went quiet, taking two puffs from the joint. You turned to look at him, eyes immediately darting to his lips. He was looking pensively at the corner of the van.

“Not fair,” you grabbed the joint from him. “Don’t hog.”

“I get them too, you know.” He said all of a sudden, somber.

You stopped, looking at him still. Eddie turned his head to face you, nose only an inch from yours.

“Not so much anymore, but when I was younger. When I first came to live with Wayne.”

“Wayne?”

“My uncle,” he swallowed, turning his head away from yours. “I live with him. Have since I was twelve. My dad, he was… not a great guy.”

You were quiet for a moment, passing the joint back to him.

“My dad left.” You said. “Sometimes I’m not even sure I remember what he looks like.”

Eddie grabbed your hand, squeezing.

Instead of the flutter of anxious butterflies, you felt a calm wash over you at his hand in yours.

“Do you, uh…” Eddie trailed off, taking a deep huff, “wanna talk about what I saw this morning?”

You sighed, not feeling anxious, but feeling tired.

“You remember the skirt I wore the other day?”

Eddie swallowed visibly, eyes darting to your legs before your face again.

“Yeah.”

“Robin helped me pick it out in June,” you fiddled with your sweater. “She convinced me to wear it the other day, finally, while the weather is still at least a little nice. Anyway, Thomas noticed my skirt. He hasn’t left me alone since. And today, he��”

Eddie took a long drag.

“He grabbed me, grabbed my ass. Fucking pig.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m not even, like, scarred by that. You know how ridiculous that is? That I’m not even phased by it anymore?”

Eddie just shook his head, glaring at the ceiling.

“Eddie?”

He wordlessly handed you the joint.

“Toke up, sweetheart.”

You chuckled.

“Jesus, what an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a long drag.

“Someone should—”

“Someone should, but someone won’t.” You looked at him. “They never do.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed, biting his lip in concentration.

“Wanna skip the rest of the day?”

“God, yes.”

Th next day, Thomas Reed had a busted lip and a black eye.

#eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x reader #the tutor #eddie fanfic #eddie fic #eddie x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4

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pursuitseternal · 3 months

Text

“Arising” to the climax of “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x Cordehlia (Named Tav) | E | 3.6 K

Love to @marimosalad , my illustrator and co creator

Summary: Cazador’s dungeons, where his love is reduced to a hostage to ensure his willingness in the Rite of Profane Ascension. The Pale Elf and the Bone Picker are faced with an even more desperate choice in that glow of Infernal magic.

CW: violence, angst, Pale Elf Quest spoilers, heartache, impossible choices, Catharsis, and near death experiences.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 18: Arising…

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Dagger bit flesh, one last werewolf felled in the Ballroom. Blood everywhere, it covered them all, but Astarion grinned in wicked delight as he took in their progress. The Palace would be gutted, and she would be saved. Cazador would be dead, and with any luck, he might just ensure immortality and power and prestige for them both. Forever.

He looked into the faces of his friends, all just as bloodied and breathless as he was.

And what was more, they all grinned back, panting and bent over with exhaustion some, well, Gale unsurprisingly. But they all were with him.

It took a matter of moments for them to find the way to the dungeons, his stomach sinking, his undead heart somehow racing, almost tangible again in his chest as they lowered to the crypt.

Foul air hit their faces, rot and putrefaction and mold, a place he didn’t even know existed. And yet, somehow, the perfect place for Cazador to wallow and bait his trap. The sewer rat that he was.

Cells lined the walls once they reached the bottom, hundreds of glowing red eyes staring at him, clamors of parched voices, some that had haunted him for centuries.

“Are all these…?” Shadowheart’s question died on her lips as the answer became too clear.

“Targets… Victims…. More… spawn….” Astarion kept his eyes fixed ahead. “They should have been dead, drained and dismembered,” he hissed, betrayal upon betrayal festering in his stomach now. “He must need them, must be part of his plan….”

“There must be hundreds… thousands…” Halsin’s voice almost shook at the atrocity.

But atrocity had been a daily part of his life for all his years enslaved. Astarion could only push forward, unable to look or listen at the faces he still saw in his nightmares, those torturous visions that plagued him any time he wasn’t dreaming about…

“Cordehlia,” he froze outside a cell, empty and blood spattered. Crouching, he touched his fingers in the red pool of sticky blood and licked it. “Her scent is here,” he whispered, pressed and taught as every instinct to kill began to take hold. “She was here, but it’s not her blood,” he stood smirking. “Ghast and werewolf, at least she put them through the hells, by the look of it. Unarmed too.” He absentmindedly tapped the dagger at his hip.

“Of course she did,” Karalch gave a small, slight laugh, unusual for her. “That’s our girl.”

“But it doesn’t tell why so many other victims, why so many monsters,” Wyll’s voice sliced through as sharp as his blade.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance….”

The scent of brimstone and sulfur, the sting of Infernal magic in the air, that velvet baritone voice, only one Cambion would offer help one last time… just a small, black and molten form hovered at their eye level. Slowly, those dark sunken eyes, that hard-lined face materialized before them all. Half-formed from the neck up, that familiar face smirked at them.

Raphael.

“What the fuck do you want?” Astarion rounded, fangs bared and fists clenched. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit too busy to thank you for gracing us with your presence, devil,” Astarion snapped, sarcasm dripping from his words as he gave a subtle bow of his head. “If you slow me down now, you’ll find yourself short not two… but three horns someday….”

He didn’t mean horns alone. That made Karlach snicker.

But Astarion couldn’t enjoy the mirth, not when he was so very close now. That hurried bite in his words, he met Raphael’s black stare with disgust. “I don’t know why you think we might need assistance, what with facing down my old master with his army of an untold, unknown number of spawn, oh and he has the love of my life somewhere here….” He sneered, feral and fangs flashing. I think we have it under control, Raphael, so you can burst into mist and let me keep… going.” Spit flying, he snarled by the end.

“The spawn are not an army, my toothsome friend, they are his offering to Mephistopheles, the seven-thousand souls required for Cazador’s Ascension, in addition to your siblings’ and yours of course.”

The information smacked him in the chest. And every one of his companions seemed to stop breathing. “Seven-thousand souls…” Gale barely whispered in horrified reverence. Astarion rolled his eyes, of course the Wizard couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“But there is more you should know, my friends. Cazador has sampled some, a mere sliver, of the power the Vampire Ascendant will possess once the Rite is completed. That’s how he faced the thin light of dawn, how his spawn could appear in your rooms, how he could subdue that menacing and beautiful future bride of yours, Astarion.”

“I’d prefer if you quit spying on us, strange devil,” Astarion’s nostrils flared. “But since you’ve seen so much, any last warnings or advice for once?”

The black, molten form of Raphael suddenly looked very serious. “Take care of his bite,” he warned with deadly tone. “One fang through the skin, and the necrotic magic of the Ascendant will take hold, death will be slow but inevitable, allowing for the Vampire Lord enough time to decide, to torture or to turn his victim…. But there will be no amount of magic that can prevent that fate.”

Every breath held tight, even Astarion. Dread formed over his slow-beating heart, arms aching to hold her one more time. Heavy silence fell, once again broken. “By Silvanus,” Halisin sighed.

“Just remember, it wasn’t Silvanus who warned you, Astarion, it was me…” Raphael’s rippling voice chuckled into nothing as the apparition faded as well.

“For fucks sake…” Karlach bemoaned their situation as she loaded arrows into her crossbow. “Nobody is getting bitten today, dammit.”

“No,” Astarion rolled his shoulders and flashed them a smile… the deadliest they had ever seen, more fangs than mirth, more darkness in his eyes than crimson as he glanced one more time where his love had been held. “But someone is going to be turned inside out for what they have done to me and my love.” He unsheathed his shortsword and her glittering dagger with a hiss of metal. “I can promise you that.”

Air stung with magic, stank with rot. He could feel the scars on his back stinging, glimpsing the way his six siblings hung suspended by magic, their own scars aglow with infernal power.

But that wasn’t what his eyes searched for. The second he spied her at the bottom of the stairs, her skin pale and fiery hair tangled, he couldn’t stop. Astarion flew headlong into the danger, the second her silver eyes locked into his, a smile of love and relief and bloodlust crossed her own face, he only hastened all the more.

Cazador held her firm, her body clutched against his chest, arms bound before her with simple rope. “The prodigal son returns,” his Master called, even as Astarion panted and rushed with blade and dagger drawn. “You're so predictable, boy, so easy to break and crack into pieces.”

A roar in his throat, her bright dagger raised over his head, he was ready to strike. Until Cazador waved that massive staff, a wall of hot magic, singeing and red, slammed into him. He was so close, barely an arm’s reach from her… from him. But glowing red sigils burned around his wrists, his breath catching as it scorched in his throat. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“Only if you don’t let me do it first,” Cordehlia hissed and thrashed, elbowing the vampire in his chest. To no effect.

“It’s going to be quite hard to do that, now that my will has wrapped itself around you again, boy.”

The circlets of red grew brighter, Astarion grunting as he bit his teeth firmly shut. He wouldn’t give Cazador the satisfaction of another scream or grunt in pain. “Fuck you,” he ground out against the agony rushing through his body. “You have me, let her go, you bastard.”

“I’ll let her go, once she witnesses you fulfilling your true destiny, thankless child.” Cazador cackled, waving that fearsome staff of his to intensify the hissing sounds of flesh burning, increasing the glow of those shackles on her love’s wrists. “You were made to be consumed.”

“Astarion!” Cordehlia cried, wrestling against the iron hold around her frame. “No, you were made to destroy, my love. You were made in the darkness under pressure like adamantine, just like me. You were made to avenge yourself against him….”

“Shut up, you whore,” Cazador gripped his hand around her mouth, but she bit through his pale, flaky skin, only to yell louder once that vampire squealed in pain.

“He killed your parents, he beat me from your memory, used you, defiled you, and yet we found each other again. You will fight, my love, fight and win, Astar—“

That cold, steely grip clutched around her throat, and Cordehlia sputtered for air beneath it.

Astairon’s body writhed, twisting and strengthening as he grit his teeth and closed his eyes. Every iota of his love for her boiled to the surface, every bit of his rage burst from inside him, his need to be free, to be with her exploded from within. Hissing, shattering, the binding magic broke from his wrists. The sigils of his infernal scars decimated in an instant, and Astarion stretched his arms and bared his fangs. The only thing brighter than his teeth was that dagger still held firmly in his fingers.

Freed.

“Impossible…” Cazador snarled, his fingers releasing from her throat enough for Cordehlia to gasp in some air. “Even now, you resist? Foolish, stupid boy and his foolish, stupid whore.” Long fingers gripped into her hair and pulled her head sharply to the side, her neck bones almost cracking at the force. “You should have known your place, child.”

Astarion’s eyes seemed to watch it all happen so slowly… the way her hands opened, her eyes locked on her dagger in his grip… the narrowing of her gaze, ordering him to toss it wordlessly….

It happened so quickly, so slowly at once. That bright dagger sailed through the air, unwavering from his dexterous grip until it landed square in her outstretched hand. A smile crossed his face as she held it firm and fast, turning it to sink it into the soft belly behind her. A satisfied slick noise filed the dungeon as it sank home.

But her face flashed from triumph to agony. From bloodlust to torment. Astarion’s eyes flew from her perfect lips, her shining eyes to the set of fangs that now buried in her neck.

Watching in horror as Cazador sank his deadly fangs in her flesh.

Instantly, he released that bite, dagger buried in his gut through his ostentatious jerkin. The vampire stumbled back, that nefarious staff of his falling to the ground. But as their companions descended on his old master with light spells and damaging blows, Astarion could only move slowly, as if trapped in quicksand, reaching to catch her.

Her body was shaking, necrotic streaks already darkening the shallow bite on her neck. Perfect pale skin stained dark, her beautiful face gathering beads of sweat as the poison already crept through her veins. Astarion could only cradle her, warm tears finally dripping down his cheek, lips unable to say much of anything but the music of her name over and over again as he held her against his chest.

Throat bobbing, she swallowed through the agony, “I got him, didn’t I?”

“Yes, my love,” a feeble smile and tear streaked voice replying as he stroked her hair. All he could hear was the slowing beat of her heart, the din of battle beyond them so distant, so… unimportant compared to finally holding her once more.

Maybe only one more time.

Halsin crowded over them, “Bring him here,” he ordered to the rest of their party. Scuffling and dragging, slung between Karlach and Wyll, Cazador hung limp, but still alive. Or undead. Halsin pawed at Astarion’s shoulder, something warm and assuring and irritating about it all at once. “It’s for you to decide.”

Astarion looked up, eyes burning with hate as he locked his gaze on his old master. But he couldn’t bring himself to let her go, not with the way her arms clung around his chest, the way her heart seemed to slow beneath his own ribs. “Do something, Cleric,” he snarled, gesturing with his head at how his love began to visibly shiver.

“Astarion…” Shadowheart tried to cajole, but he would not take that patronizing tone.

“Halsin, Gale,” he snapped their names. “What good is all that magic and faith if you can’t heal her.”

“The devil said it wasn’t curable, but I could try to slow the poison,” Halsin finally sighed. “But there is only one solution to this…”

“My death,” Cordehlia shuddered, teeth chattering as her flesh began to grow impossibly cold. “I can… feel it. Have dreaded this for so long…”

“Or your undeath….” He whispered, just to himself. Astarion glanced up, taking in the carnage and misery and atrocity around them. Blood-slicked stone, throbbing infernal magic still holding his siblings bound by their scars. That one missing space meant for his death, waiting to be filled to complete the Rite…. “Do what you can to buy us time, Druid,” he ordered, lifting her shaking body towards the Elf, to place in his arms, carefully like the tender babe she was to him. “I have matters to attend to.”

“Astarion,” Cordehlia moaned as she was moved. “What are you d-doing?”

“What I promised you,” he knelt as Halsin rested her against him on the ground, cradling her in his large, warm arms. “I’m going to save you, to protect you, to make you my Bride.”

“Seven… th-thousand…” she managed to say before a wrack of pain shot through her body and made her teeth snap tight.

Her love’s palm cradled her cheek, his breath cold on her lips as he kissed her so, so softly. “Seven-thousand souls is a small price to pay to save your one, beautiful one,” he murmured.

“A-starion…” she managed to hiss through her torment.

“Yes, my darling?” he replied, lips still brushing hers even as they, too, grew cold.

“Use… my dagger,” she swallowed.

Astarion smiled, a kiss on her forehead, cold and wet with her body’s agony. “Anything for you, my treasure.”

Standing, he crossed to that monster, his former tormentor, and threw Cazador’s tunic up over his head. Raising at last, he found Gale’s hand so close, that bloodied, bright dagger in his offering palm. “Use the tadpole,” the Wizard nodded. “See your own scars, and it should suffice to appease the Infernal contract.” He winced as he heard his own words. “Do it for Cordehlia.”

Never before had he disrobed faster, armor and shirt lying at his feet as he took that warm blade in his hand. Astarion could say nothing, had to ignore the way he could just see from the corner of his eyes at how the Druid tried every kind of magic to draw the poison out. Shaking his head, he kept that focus locked on the sight of his own back, seeing his scars through Gale’s eyes. But all the while, he kept his pointed ear trained on Cordhelia’s heart, how it sometimes raced and sometimes slowed. And it only spurred his own markings to be that much sharper and more precise in that monster’s flesh. A matter of moments, and he finally pronounced his work completed.

He picked up that horrific staff, ignoring the way it vibrated in his hand, overwhelmed by its rush of magic as it coursed up his arm and down his spine. Power like nothing he could have ever imagine flooded his body, instantly his tongue danced over the words of the Profane Rite, put on his lips by the magic in the air. He could have watched with twisted pleasure as Cazador’s nearly-broken body flew to be suspended in his own place. He could have savored the way magic raced up and down every nerve as the spell tripped off his tongue, as the staff seemed to move his body of its own.

No, all he could watch was Cordehlia’s silver eyes fluttering, fighting to stay open to watch him ascending. All he could savor was the way his heart filled with the promise of a power so overwhelming, he could finally do something worthy of her. Finally able to save her. Feeling it finally begin to beat for her again.

The world around him seemed to still, to sharpen and explode all at once. Dropping that staff to the ground, he rushed to her once more. Her hand trembled in his grasp, skin waxy and cold. Halsin’s big green eyes looked back at him, grief stricken and saying more than words could. He passed her feeble body into Astarion’s outstretched arms as he crouched on the dirty floor beside them. Her head lolled against his shoulder, silver eyes half shut, forced open to looking into his handsome face until the end.

“You’ll have to fight poison with poison,” the Druid smiled weakly, trying to reassure the Ascendant being before him that radiated magic, Astarion’s skin paler than death and eyes glowing like demonic flame.

Astarion nodded, he didn’t want to do this here. Not in a dungeon, not in his old home of such torment, and certainly not in front of all the others. But there was no choice now, and the price paid was too great to fail now. “Cordehlia,” he whispered in her ear, “thank you for trusting me, I just need you to trust me a little further.”

She managed a nod with her eyes still barely opened.

Blood filled his mouth, and fangs sank into the holes Cazador had made. His mouth sucked the tainted blood from her veins, almost souring his stomach as he drank until the taste of that monster’s magic was gone from her body.

Until there was only the taste of her on his tongue again.

And yet, even as she showed all the signs of being bloodless, her heart beat steadied with his magic now in her veins. It would be enough for now, enough to start her own rite, enough to keep her from true death for a while. He stood, feeling waves of power rippling from his muscles in new and strange ways. Suddenly far too aware of the way his heart thumped in his chest again—rapid and alarmed and living. Too ironic, too sad to be truly appreciated as her own pulse continued to slow. “We have to get her back to the Elfsong,” he pronounced, blood dripping down his chin, standing to carry her tenderly in his arms. “I will need to complete my work in privacy.”

Halsin cocked a brow. “Very well,” he nodded, leading them all back through the halls until they could reach the brush of daylight once more, followed by a simple teleportation back to their suite of rooms.

Not a second was wasted. Not now that he was so close. Ascended. Freed. More power at the tips of fingers than any of his kind had ever possessed. And yet his happiness laid unmoving against his chest, nearly lifeless against his now-beating heart.

Astarion kicked open the door to a set of rooms apart, setting her on the dark, postered bed. Quickly, he bit her wrist, sucking more and more of her sweet vintage straight from her veins.

His heart broke at all of what could have been, at all the various futures and paths that faded from view. She wasn’t even conscious to enjoy this union, to feel the way their essences combined into one, stronger and equal and powerful the more he drank her down. She couldn’t hear the little praises he poured over her, her ears deaf to every time he called her his love, his darling, his treasure, the mate of his heart and soul…

But he poured them over her barely-conscious face all the same, peppering her face with bloodied kisses even as it grew white as a sheet.

One last bite was all it would take. This love of his life, near dead and almost lost to him a second time, she would be his forever.

As his fangs sunk into her neck, marking afresh the scars that had formed there over their weeks reunited, he drank his fill. Breaking away at last once she neared the very dregs of her life, Astarion stopped. He was breathless, his stomach full to near bursting, even though it no longer throbbed with a spawn’s hunger.

Hand shaking, he brought his wrist to his teeth, tearing a slit in own flesh to place against her chalky lips. He could sense it entering her body, dripping down her throat to pool in her own belly. But he held his breath all the same.

Body rigid, he had never been more afraid than right now, not as his love’s life hung in the balance, not as she counted on his power to bring her back into the same realm as him, even if it was under the veil of undeath.

Her lips stirred first against his wound, just a little movement, just a slight suck. Crimson eyes flashed open were once silver ones shined at him, and Corehelia smiled as she sucked down his blood.

Astarion finally breathed, his chest easing at last.

His bride was arising.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

I do know that Ascension can be divisive, however I hope this gives some firmer ground to stand on… spoonfuls of “Burn the world” for his love and “Touch her and you die” make it go down smoother, I hope. No more long lost love💞

Aeterna Amantes

3 more days until Chapter 19: Dark Kissing, when she awakens🩸💞🗡️

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ilovewriting06 · 1 year

Text

Mine

Warnings: Smut

In celebration of closing a hard case the team decided to go out and celebrate at any place that Kono picks since she’s the one that fired the final shot. Kono picked a nice club not far from where Steve and I live. Now I’m not part of the team but as Steve’s girlfriend of three years I’m considered ohana, so I was automatically invited. Danny claimed it was so he didn’t have to listen to Steve bitching about how much better it would be with me there, but everyone knew it was because he hadn’t seen me in a couple weeks due to the case and a visit to the mainland to take care of my sick parents.

Now that the case was closed and my parents were healthy I was ready to spend time with my friends but more specifically my boyfriend. Due to my parents and the case, mostly the case, Steve and I have had little to no alone time in the last month. As a couple that went from having sex at least six times a week to having absolutely no contact beyond cuddling and kissing was absolute torture, for both of us. So, I’ve got a plan and I know just how to get what I want, especially since we’re going to be at a nightclub, I had some time to get ready since I was meeting everyone there and what’s better than being fashionably late.

Steve’s POV

I sat at the booth in the corner at the nightclub taking a sip of my whiskey before Danny looked at me and asked, “Hey, Steve, where’s you better half?”

I checked my watch and shrugged before replying, “No idea, but knowing Y/N she’s going to be fashionably late to ‘make an entrance’” as I said make an entrance I lifted my hands and made quotation marks earning a laugh from everybody.

A couple minutes later I look up as I hear Grover whistle I looked at him confused, “What?”

He looked at me with a sly grin, “She did more than make an entrance.”

With that I turn around to see Y/N walking towards us. Dear God is she trying to kill me? She was wearing a skin tight red dress that dipped down just enough to show her breasts and high enough to leave nothing to the imagination paired with a pair of black thigh high laced heels, the ones she knew drove me crazy.

When she reached us she slid into my lap and started talking to Danny all the while she kept shifting on my lap causing me to grab her thigh to try and stop her and to keep me from groaning. After a couple minutes she met eyes with Kono who was at the bar and slid off my lap and kissing my cheek before walking to Kono swaying her hips the whole way.

When she was out of earshot, which wasn’t very far in this club, Danny looked at me before saying, “If I didn’t know any better I would think she want’s something from you.” At that Lou laughed before saying, “Oh yeah, she definitely want’s something.”

I tried to hide how flustered I was but Danny spoke up, “Be honest Steve when was the last time you two…well….ya know….did the dirty?”

I rolled my eyes before answering, “Sex Danny just say sex we aren’t in middles school and why the hell do you think I’d tell you that?”

Him, Lou, and Chin shared a look before Lou said, “Steve buddy no offense but that woman wants you in a bad way and you best believe she’s gonna get it, but with the way she’s dressed, you are in for a whole lot of suffering and keep an eye on her because something tells me she has got a plan. Woman always have a plan.”

Chin and Danny nodded in agreement as I watched Kono pull Y/N on the dance floor as Y/N smirked at me and winked over her shoulder and I knew Lou was right, and I had a suspicion this was only the beginning.

Y/N’s POV

When I got there I could already see it was working, his eyes said it all. To further my plan I sat in his lap and talked to the guys of the team while shifting on Steve’s lap to find a comfortable position when in reality I was comfortable I just wanted to make him more turned on than he already is, and I can tell it’s working. A couple minutes later I look up and see Kono motioning me over so I excuse myself leaving a kiss on Steve’s cheek before swaying my hips the whole way to Kono.

I get to Kono and she smiles before saying, “Girl you look hot as hell but I have a feeling it’s for a certain man’s attention. So, spill what’s the plan and how can I help?”

I laugh before answering, “You know me too well. The plan is simple, turn Steve on and get railed. It’s working but he’s not as worked up as I want him to be.”

She chuckles before smirking as she got an idea, “I have an idea, dance.”

I look at her confused before asking, “What on earth does dancing have to do with this?”

“No, Y/N/N when I say dance I mean dance. Dance like a horny single at a club looking for a hookup, get the guys swarming you and Prince Charming over there will be swooping you away and giving you exactly what you want, you know he’s got a jealous streak the size of Texas.”

I laugh nodding my head and agreeing before she’s pulling me to the dance floor. On the way to the dance floor I throw a smirk and a wink at my boyfriend.

Once on the dance floor I start dancing, I’m running my hands up me body, swaying my hips, and running my hands through my hair. I’m pretty much dancing like I imagine a stripper would. I look towards Steve to see him watching me like a hawk watching its prey.

Steve’s POV

As I watched Y/N dance I was getting turned on more and more by the second and the jealousy was bubbling over as I watched 98% of the males there staring at her hips and chest.

I was startled out of my glaring by Danny, “So, when exactly are you going to stop her? Because the more she dances the more the guys are going to move in.”

I closed my eyes and looked at Danny before saying, “I’m not going to. She wants to play a game and she wants me to cave first so I’m going to sit here until she caves and as for the guys she’ll kick them to the curb before they get any ideas.”

I took a sip of my drink when Danny sat up straighter, “You sure about that?”

I furrowed my eyebrows in anger and jealousy as I followed Danny’s gaze to see that Y/N had moved to the bar to get a drink and she was laughing and talking to a guy that was making very obvious advances. I slammed my glass down with a loud thud before clenching my jaw.

Danny’s POV

When I saw Y/N walk in I knew exactly what she was after. It didn’t take a genius, they’ve been so busy for the last month that they didn’t have time for each other and her attitude and body language said she wanted Steve’s undivided attention and by god she was putting him through hell to get it.

I watched as Steve clenched his jaw and I leaned over to whisper to Chin and Lou, “He is definitely going to cave first.”

They nodded in agreement before Chin spoke up, “Oh yeah, she knows exactly what she’s doing and it’s driving him nuts, not to mention his stubbornness making him suffer more.”

We all nodded again before Lou spoke up this time, “I have never seen a woman that determined to get a man’s attention that was already there’s. Heck Renee hasn’t looked at me like that in years.”

We all chuckled but stopped as we watched the last straw of Steve’s sanity get blown to the wind. Instead of shutting the guy down Y/N kept up the act throwing glances our way to make sure Steve was paying attention, when she was sure he was watching she put her arm on the guys bicep and threw her head back in laughter.

I glanced at Steve and jumped when he slammed his drink down harder than before with his gaze locked on Y/N before pushing himself up and walking towards her making it clear he was done with it.

We all laughed before I said, “He definitely caved.”

Chin and Lou laughed before Chin said, “And he definitely isn’t coming back over here tonight.”

Y/N’s POV

When I stopped dancing and went to get a drink a man with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes walked up and started flirting with me. I was getting ready to tell him to back off but I glanced at Steve and realized this would be what broke his resolve so I flirted back and sure enough Steve’s making his way through the crowded room heading straight for us, and he looks pissed.

When he got to us he grabbed my waist and pulled me into his front possessively. As he did so I could feel the prominent bulge poking into my lower back causing me to bite my lip to prevent myself from moaning. When I focused back on the conversation between my boyfriend and the stranger I had learned was named, Brad, I could tell Brad was terrified of Steve and Steve was pissed at Brad…and me.

After Brad ran away scared for his life Steve spun me around to face him and I rubbed my legs together when his angry and horny eyes glare into mine as he said lowly, “What the hell do you think you were doing?”

I looked at him innocently before smoothing out his button up shirt and fixing his color while saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, commander.”

I heard a low groan and felt his hands dig into my hips before pulling me impossibly closer before whispering in my ear rather aggressively, “I swear to God Y/N if you ever do something like this again I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week.”

I stand on my tiptoes and pull his head down a little so I could whisper in his ear, “Baby, that’s the whole point.” He growled lowly before I continued, “How about you take me home and I’ll give you something for your troubles. Would you like that?” Instead of answering he grabbed my arm and pulled me out the door while I all but pranced behind him.

When we got to Steve’s truck he opened my door and all but threw me in before slamming the door and getting in the drivers seat and speeding to our house.

The whole five minute drive to the house neither one of us made a single sound both of us thinking about what was to come.

As soon as we got home I ran upstairs to our en suite to complete phase two of my plan. Steve was fast to follow and I heard him pacing the floor before asking in a low gravelly voice, “What the hell are you doing now?”

I smirked as I adjusted the last piece of lace to keep my boobs in place before swinging the bathroom door open, “Just preparing you a little gift, you know, for all your troubles.”

I watched as his eyes raked up and down my body before he met my eyes with an expression I can only describe as turned on and surprised as his pupils were so blown they were black. He sat on the foot of the bed as walked towards him.

When I got in front of him I did a little twirl before asking, “Do you like it? I bought it on the mainland when my aunt and I went shopping. I saw it and thought you would like it.”

It was a wine red lingerie set with a strapless lace push up bra with lace going down my abdomen before ending right before my belly button and it was paired with a pair of underwear that was mostly straps except for the part covering my mound. I know red is his favorite on me so when I saw it I went right in the store and bought it….and a few other sets but he gets to see those at a later date.

He stared for a few more minutes before nodding and groaning out a yes. I smirked before walking up to him and standing between his legs, he grabbed my hips and looked me in the eyes while I straddled his lap. Once I was situated on his lap I put one hand on his shoulder while the other one carded it’s way through his hair before playing with his hair in the back all the while he stared at me intently trying to guess my next move. After a couple seconds I tilted my head up a little to meet his lips and pulling him into a kiss. Before he got a chance to deepen it I pulled away a little to kiss along his jaw before leaving a hickey on the corner of his jaw before kissing my way down his neck leaving three more hickeys that he would be displaying for all to see tomorrow. When I was happy with my marks I kissed my way up his neck until I got to his ear where I whispered, “I’m ready whenever you are commander.”

As soon as the words left my mouth he stood up taking me with him. When I stood in front of him I grabbed his shirt before looking at him with eager eyes he nodded his head telling me it was okay before I untucked the dark blue material before running my hands up his torso until I reached the first button that was buttoned. As each new piece of skin was revealed I got more excited, when I finally unbuttoned the last button I pushed his shirt off before stepping back, “Damn it’s not fair.” He looked at me and smiled before asking, “What’s not baby?” I threw him a look before answering, “You, you’re so goddamn sexy and you don’t even try. I mean, you have an eight back and biceps that are so big I can’t wrap my hand around and don’t get me started on what you have going on below the belt.”

He smirked again before pulling my in by the hips, “I’m sorry, what was the last part you said?”

I blushed bright red as I realized what I said, I looked away so I didn’t look in to his teasing eyes. That didn’t last long as he grabbed my jaw and turned my head but he must have take pity on me as he said, “It’s alright baby you don’t have to repeat it and as for the sexy thing. You have no room to talk,” he took a step back before using the hand that had been cupping my face to motion at my body before continuing, “you’re so damn beautiful and sexy that no one could even try and compare to you and I’m lucky enough to call you mine.”

I blushed and shrugged my shoulders in disagreement at his statement but appreciative to say the least. He pulled me closer before whispering in my ear, “And when I say mine I mean mine, no one else’s. I’ve never been good at sharing and it’ll be over my dead body that another man lays his hands on you, and if I ever see you flirting with someone again I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even remember your name. I don’t care what game you were playing but I can assure you if you try it again I won’t be as nice to the poor soul that flirts with you.”

I blush and rub my legs together at his possessiveness. Yes there’s a fine line between being possessive and being overly possessive but Steve is only possessive with guys that he doesn’t know or trust and that’s okay with me because Steve’s instincts on people are almost never wrong.

He steps away from me before motioning to the bed with his head without another thought I crawl into bed and lay on my back in the middle of the bed. Before he comes to me he walks to his side of the bed to the right of me before grabbing something out of his nightstand. I let out a whimper when I realize it’s his handcuffs. Shit. When he turns to me with a smirk I go to say something but he talks first, “Don’t even try to sweet talk your way out of it. It’s not going to work, I’m immune to it by now sweetheart.”

I groan before throwing my head back in the pillows as he gets on the bed and straddles my hips. When he’s steady above me he grabs my hands and raises them up to the bed frame and I feel the all too familiar cold metal circle my wrists as I hear the click of the handcuffs locking. I moan as he stretches out above me to reach the headboard and his belt clad waist is in front of my face. I don’t know what it is but seeing him in black cargo pants with a belt and no shirt just does something to me, and he knows it.

When he’s done and sitting back up he looks down at me smirking, “Babe, I didn’t even touch you.” I glare at him as he continues, “Ohhhh, never mind I forgot about what I have going on below the belt.”

I stick my tongue out before saying, “You suck.”

He smirks before saying, “Actually princess that’s what you do.” I blush as my eyes widen. Okay not gonna lie that was smooth as fuck and hot as fuck.

He chuckles a he gets off the bed to get rid of the rest of his clothes. He had already discarded his shoes and socks before getting on the bed respecting my threat of what happens when someone gets on my bed with shoes on.

I bite my lip as I watch him throw his belt to the side and unbutton and unzip his pants before throwing them to the side with his belt before making eye contact with me as he dropped his underwear. I pull my arms hearing the metal clink as he smirks at me. Dear god not being able to touch him is going to kill me, and he knows it. He knows how much I hate not being able to touch him it’s like my own personal hell.

When he resumes his position of straddling my hips he rubs his hands down my arms causing a shiver to run down my spine. When he reaches my arm pits he stops and I squirm before saying, “Steven, I swear to god, if you tickle me I’ll knee you in the balls.” And with that his hands resume their journey down my body. As he runs his hands down my body I moan as he runs his hands down my sides before slipping them under the hem of the red lace. When he brings his hands back out I arch my back as he goes to take it off. After a couple of minutes he curses before looking at me helplessly, asking, “How the hell do you get this thing off?” I chuckle as I instruct him on how to take it off. When the offensive material is off he chucks it across the room with a frustrated huff.

He looks back down at me before sliding down my legs to slip my underwear off when he had discarded them he leaned down and started kissing his way up leaving a few hickeys along the way causing me to moan. When he reached my neck he transitioned back and forth from sucking deep red marks into my neck and leaving sweet feather like kisses. When finished he pulled back and connected our lips into a heated kiss while his tongue fought for dominance easily winning. When he pulled back he smiled and muttered, “I love you so much.” I smile and rub my nose against his causing him to chuckle before I said, “I love you too, and I could show you just how much if you took the damned cuffs off.” He looked at me unimpressed before I sighed, “I didn’t figure that would work.” He cocked his head to the side as he pecked my before licking his way down my chest and nipping at my nipples before continuing down towards my core. I let out a surprised and pleasure filled scream and arched my back while pulling on the cuffs when his mouth latches onto my clit. I can feel him smirk against me as I continue to moan his name and pull at the damn cuffs. When he adds his fingers I squeeze my legs around his head as I moaned, “Steve! God please take these damn cuffs off!”

In response he nipped my clit before pulling away while still using his fingers, “Say you won’t flirt with another man again.” I moan out a no and then arch my back with a scream again as he bit my clit blurring the line on pain and pleasure before I screeched, “Okay! Okay! I promise!”

He smirks yet again while making eye contact before asking, “Promise what?”

I let out a pornographic moan as he hits my g-spot before panting, “Flirting, I promise I won’t flirt with another guy! I swear! Just please, take these off.” I pulled on the cuffs to emphasize what I meant and with a quick good girl and smooth moves the cuffs were quickly placed on the bedside table. As soon as my hands were free I grabbed his face and pulled him down into a heated kiss as he let out a surprised noise. I slide my right hand down to grab his shoulder while my left hand cups the back of his head and I wrap my legs around his waist and pulling his hips down with a whimper against his lips as I beg, “Please Steve, I need you.” He pulled himself out of my hold before ordering, “Hands and knees.” I quickly role onto my stomach before propping myself up on my hands and knees while shaking my ass. He slaps my butt before thrusting in with no warning causing my arms to give out and I moan into the pillow my face was squished in. As he went faster I moaned louder into the pillow before he pulled me up by my hair, “I want to hear you princess.” As if my body knew what he said another moan ripped through my throat as I threw my head back to rest on his shoulder. His left arm snaked around my front to hold me up while his right hand traveled down to play with my clit. I moaned out his name as my legs shook and I dug my nails into his arms successfully scratching him. He nipped my ear before saying, “Cum for me Y/N/N.” Seconds later I let out a pleasure filled scream and dug my nails in deeper as I hit my climax and I would have collapsed if it wasn’t for his arms holding me in place. Instead of slowing down he went faster as he chases his high. When he fell over the edge he effectively pushed me over again as a broken moan escapes my raw throat.

Once out highs have been ridden out he pulls out before laying me gently on the bed and then got a rag to clean us up. When he came back he cleaned me up before kissing the bruises forming on my wrists from pulling on the cuffs too hard. When he discarded the rag in the hamper he crawled in bed beside me and looked at me before smiling and saying, “You know, I meant it earlier, when I said I was lucky to have you.” I blush and snort as he tucks some of my hair behind my ear before pulling me closer, “I mean it Y/N. I don’t know how I got you but I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re the one for me, whether you believe it or not and I’m never going to let you go.”

I smiled before nuzzling his nose and saying, “That almost sounds like a proposal McGarrett.”

“It might be.”

I propped myself up on my elbow and looked down at him, “Really?”

He smiled before saying, “Well, that depends on the answer.”

I bent down and kissed him before whispering against his lip, “Yes. That’s my answer whether you ask now or next year. My answer will always be yes.”

He pulled me down into a hug before flipping us over so he was straddling my hips and reached over to his nightstand before pulling a wooden box out of his draw. I watched with wide eyes as he looked at it and then looked at me, “I was planning a romantic evening with wine and a nice dinner with a lot of candles for next week, but I think now might be a better time.”

I watch him open the box with my mouth agape as I see the beautiful diamond ring sitting on a simple silver band. I slid backwards just enough to sit up and looked closer at the ring, yes it was simple, but it was beautiful, exactly what I wanted. My heart was overflowing with a lot of different emotions as I looked at his happy yet nervous eyes with my tear filled eyes. I sniffle and grab his face, “I love it, and I would have said yes even if there was no ring.”

He smiled as I pulled back and handed him my left hand. When he slid the ring on my finger I shivered from both my emotions and the chill of the ring against my skin. Once the ring was in place he put the box back on the nightstand and before he fully turned around I threw myself onto him with a hug. With his unsteady position he fell backwards with me on top of him and moaned when I kissed him with love and passion. He held my hips as he watched me.

Steve’s POV

I smiled as I watched her look at the ring in the light of the lamp. The diamond wasn’t anything grand in fact it wasn’t much at all but the way she was looking at it made it look like she was holding the most priceless ring on her finger. When she broke her gaze from her ring her excited eyes looked at me with mischief surfacing to the top, “I still get the dinner right? Because I’ll give the ring back and wait until next week.”

I laughed as I went to take her ring off saying, “Alright well in that case…” I didn’t have time to finish as she slapped my hand away while glaring at me. I met her scowl with a smile earning a smile from her before she started laughing.

When we laid back down to go to sleep her laying on my left side all but laying on me with her head on my chest she looked up at me with innocent doe eyes, “We still get to have dinner right?” I tried not to laugh but she looked so hopeful I couldn’t help it I looked at her pouting lips before kissing her, “Yes baby, I’ll still make you dinner.” She smiled before snuggling closer into me and saying okay and before I know it I’m drifting off to sleep.

*In the Morning*

I woke up to a loud noise from downstairs followed by Y/N, “Gosh darn it Eddie look what you made me do!” I chuckled at her reluctance to cuss at Eddie claiming he could tell and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. As I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen I see Y/N kneeling on the floor with her hair thrown up in a bun wearing the shirt I had been wearing last night. I leaned against the doorframe before asking, “So, what did he do this time?” She jumped a little before glaring at the floor and then back at me and I laughed realizing what happened. Through my laughing I spoke, “He knocked the cake on the floor and you’re this upset?”

She stood up to look at me before saying, “It wasn’t just a piece of cake Steve, it was the last piece of cake that Aunt Edna made! And now I have to wait until thanksgiving to get another one.” I tried not to laugh when she turned around and screeched at Eddie again, “EDDIE! STOP EATING MY CAKE!”

I watched as she stomped her foot, glaring at Eddie who was still licking the icing off the floor. I walked up to her and hugged her from behind placing my chin on her shoulder, “As much as I love watching my fiancé pout over cake I have to leave for work in half an hour.”

At my words she spun around forgetting about her precious cake with a beaming smile, “I like that.”

“Like what?”

She smiled again, “Being you fiancé and be called as such.”

I smile and hum as I pull her in before saying, “Yeah I do to but you know what I think sounds better?”

She tilted her head in question as I said, “Wife. I very much like that title on you better. How does that sound? Y/N McGarrett.”

She stood on her tiptoes and pulled me down to kiss me and then bounced back before giggling, “I like that too. Now my dearest husband you should get ready you have work in a little bit and your hair is a mess.”

I chuckled, “Darling even if my hair is a mess they’re going to be more focused on my neck and my arms than my hair.”

I watched as a blush spread across her cheeks and she apologized, “I’m sorry Steve.” I nuzzle my nose into her neck causing her to giggle and I kiss her neck before pulling back, “I don’t mind babe, it shows everyone I am happily taken. I just have to deal with Danny’s nagging all day but as long as I’m allowed to tell them about this,” as I say the last part of the sentence I run my finger over her engagement ring before continuing, “it will take the heat off of my marks.” She laughs before saying, “You can tell whoever you want on one condition.” I raise an eyebrow in question, “What’s that?” She turns to Eddie before a smile crawls on her face and I know what she wants, “No, babe, we’ve talked about this.”

“Come on Steve, pleaseeeee.” As she begs me she wraps her arms around my waist and rests her chin on my chest looking up at me with puppy eyes. I groan, “Okay, I’ll think about it,” she huffs hearing this response for the thousandth time both by me and her parents but I continue, “and I mean I’ll actually think about, I promise.” She smiles and bounces up and down in excitement at the thought of me saying yes and I know that she’s won, she’s going to get what she wants.

I peck her lips one more time before pulling away and heading back upstairs, “I gotta get ready for work and I promise I’ll have an answer by tonight.”

When I come back downstairs she’s kneeling on the floor talking to Eddie about personal boundaries using the time he interrupted us during a passionate night in our room as an example. I bend down and kiss her on the forehead before grabbing my keys and heading out the door, “Bye Y/N/N, love you!” I’m answered by a joyful, “Love you too, Stevie!”

*Time Skip* As I walk into headquarters and Danny, being the only one there, looks up and his jaw drops, “Holy shit!” I shrug my shoulders and walk into my office and log onto my laptop when my door is thrown open revealing a wide eyes Danny. I look up and roll my eyes, “Yes?”

“What the hell happened!?”

I smile, “What she wanted to happen, kind of.” I roll my sleeves up and start typing when Danny interrupts me, “OH MY GOD! IS SHE PART LION!?”

I smirk, “You should see her.”

“Yeahhh, no thanks I like my life.”

I laugh and smile as I continue typing until I look up and see Danny looking at me with narrowed eyes causing me to laugh, “What now Danny?”

“You’re both overly happy, more than any man after a night full of passionate sex, but also very deep in thought. So, please do enlighten me on what exactly happened last night.”

By this point he’s sitting in the chair across from my desk leaning forward eagerly waiting for me to give him details. I sigh before leaning back in my chair crossing my arms trying to look ticked off but I couldn’t fight the smile off of my face. Now Danny was really intrigued, “Oh come on Steve, spill it. God I’m spending to much time with Grace and her friends.” I lean forward, “I’d tell you Danno but there’s no fun in that.”

I watched as he purses his lips and thought about it and after about three minutes his eyes light up and he jumps up excitedly, “No! You didn’t! You did! Oh my God you did! And she said yes! OH MY GOD! YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

I laugh before nodding, “Yes, Danny, I asked her to marry me and she said yes.”

“How did you ask her? Because if I recall you guys were at the verge of a war last night.”

“Well I didn’t really ask her, I told her how much she meant to me, she said it sounded like a proposal, I said it might be depending on her answer, she said yes and that she would say yes no matter when I asked, so I got the ring and gave it to her.”

“Wow real romantic what the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know Danny. Honestly it just felt right, it felt like all the pieces were in place and that it was the right time, I don’t know how to explain it.”

He smiled and said, “No, I do understand, I proposed to Rachel with a soda can so I know what it’s like for the time to be right.”

When he was done talking his smile slowly disappeared before he asked, “Then why were you staring at your laptop like you’re debating the pros and cons of murder?”

I sighed rubbing my face before turning my laptop around so Danny could see it and he burst out laughing, “You're finally caving. You’re finally going to get her a puppy.”

“No.”

He looked at me confused as I said, “I already bought him, two weeks ago, he was supposed to be picked up next week but I’m messaging the breeder about picking him up today.”

At that moment my laptop pinged as I looked at it I smiled before looking at Danny, “She said I can pick him up now, sooo, can I take your car?”

He groaned before saying, “I don’t have a say in it so yeah whatever let’s go pick up Leo.”

I laughed at the fact he used the name Y/N has had picked out for a puppy since she was five as I took the keys out of his hand and walked out the door with him close behind.

#steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #chin ho kelly #lou grover #hawaii five oh #hawaii five 0 #kono kalakaua #hawaii #5 0 #smut #protective #jealousy #possessive

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hahafixon · 6 months

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Bank Robbery ~ *Jung Wooyoung*

Summary: You just need to deposit some checks at the bank. That's all. However, you find yourself in the middle of a bank robbery. Too bad you don't seem to care about the apparent danger you're in.

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung X G/N!Reader

Genre: Angstyish Oneshot

Word Count: 2063

Warning: Swearing, guns, bullets, arguing, yelling, mentions torture, no one is actually hurt

Masterlist

Taglist: @foxwinter @maeleelee @kpop-will-kill-me

It was a simple deposit. You had some birthday checks from your extended family that you needed to put in your checking account. You really didn’t want to go to the bank today, preferring to binge watch anime in your pajamas. However you knew if you didn’t do it soon, you never would do it. Besides, it was more money that you could use. Who doesn’t want money?

So you were stuck waiting in line four people deep as the teller assisted an elderly woman with transferring money to her grandkids. Though the gesture was sweet in your opinion, you also were annoyed. You really didn’t want to be here. So you internally prayed that the four people ahead of you would go fast so you could deposit and get out.

But, of course, nothing could be that easy.

“ALRIGHT LISTEN UP!” A man in a mask yelled, getting everyone’s attention as he waves a gun around. “This is a robbery. Hand over everything of value and we’ll let you live.”

Seven other men came in and started taking valuables from everyone. Though you were paralyzed with fear, you couldn’t help but be a little pissed. This was just going to take longer! It seemed the universe was conspiring against you so that you wouldn’t go home.

A couple of the men in masks started going down the line of people, gathering the valuables they had on them. The others went behind the counter and started to shake down the employees. You watched carefully as they got closer and closer to you. Before you knew it, there was a gun being waved in your face.

“Be a good hostage and fork over the cash.” He snapped harshly.

Maybe you were tired from a long week at work and now having to come to the bank on your day off. Maybe you were crazy, after seeing this scene play out so many times in movies. Maybe you really did have a death wish. Whatever the reason, you found yourself refusing his request.

“No.”

This caused almost everything to come to a standstill. The man in front of you lowered the gun slightly in shock, his eyes wide behind his mask.

“D-did you say no?” His stutter wasn’t intentional, that much was obvious. He was trying to keep his composure as the half-baked plan fell around him.

“Yeah, I said no.” You reply, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not giving you the money I was given as a gift from my family. Besides, you shouldn’t go around robbing establishments, especially banks, when you don’t have a solid plan to start with. I bet that gun isn’t even loaded!”

Yep, you were definitely crazy.

The man before you shifted from foot to foot uneasily. “Y-yes it is!”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course it is!” One of the robbers from behind the counter shouted back at the two of you.

The guy standing next to you nudges your shoulder harshly. “Just give him what he wants! You’re going to get us all killed!”

“He’s right, you know!” The robber behind the counter agreed.

You shook your head. “No, I know I’m right. Tell them! Tell them that the gun isn’t loaded!”

The man in front of you hesitated before he started to whine like a child. “It’s because MG didn’t buy the bullets!”

Well, you actually weren’t one hundred percent sure you were correct when you made that statement, but you were grateful you were.

The man behind the counter who was shouting at you stopped stuffing his bag with money. “What? Are you telling me that none of our guns have ammunition in them?”

A tall robber who was keeping look out turned back to the rest of the group. “Hey! It’s not my fault! WY said he was going to buy them!”

The man before you whipped around and waved the gun in his hand accusingly at the other man. “Me? I never said I was going to buy them! Besides, even if you didn’t get them, YS should have checked the supply stash for more bullets.”

A different robber shrugged nonchalantly. “It wasn’t my week to check the supplies. This week was S’s turn.”

“C’mon! Don’t pin the blame on me! The youngest should be the one who buys all the supplies!”

“Don’t make being young a punishment. You already made the rest of my life hell.”

The sound of bullets clattering to the ground got everyone's attention.

The other man behind the counter had emptied his gun. The other man behind the counter stared for a brief moment before opening his gun to find it empty. You couldn’t stop the smile from growing on your face as realization dawned on you.

“So I’m assuming only one gun was loaded? Tell me they’re the right kind of bullets?”

“Shut up!” The short one behind the counter shouted.

However the other man answered you. “They’re blanks.”

“I can’t believe you guys were dumb enough to rob a bank with blanks!” A laugh escaped you.

You shouldn’t be laughing. This wasn’t supposed to be funny. You were a hostage in a bank robbery. Granted, it was a botched bank robbery, but still. That didn’t mean you were out of the woods yet. However, the whole situation was absolutely hilarious to you. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the fact that you just really didn’t want to be here right now, but you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. You kept laughing when the man beside you elbowed you harshly in the side and when the robber in front of you grabbed you by the shirt.

“What’s so funny?” He snapped.

“You guys are!” You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m sorry but come on! If you saw some other criminals mess up as bad as you guys are, you would laugh too! Not saying that I’m a criminal, it’s just, ah, I’m sorry! This is really embarrassing for you guys. I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t laugh. But it’s too funny not to! Sorry!”

“Shut them up already!” The shorter man behind the counter shouted.

The other man beside him spoke up. “We should get out of here. The police will be on their way and I’m not going back to jail.”

“SH you’ve never been to jail.” The youngest scoffed with a shake of his head before he continued. “Still, I agree. Let’s get out of here already.”

As the robbers started to head for the door, the man in front of you, the one called WY, stayed where he was. You stared right back at him. “Well? Aren’t you going to follow your buddies?”

“There’s something about you…” His voice trailed off as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Gee thanks.” You rolled your eyes with a small smirk. “Just what I’ve always wanted: to be complimented by a criminal. You made my whole life, mister.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at your words, however he did let go of your shirt. “No, I mean you’re not scared of us. I don’t get it. Why aren’t you scared?”

You shrugged. “Should I be? Like I said, you guys tried to rob a bank with blanks. How can anyone be scared of something that would feel like being shot with a paintball? I mean, yeah, it’ll hurt like a motherfucker, but it shouldn’t kill anyone. I don’t see you guys as the kind to shoot a gun pressed against someone’s body.”

“That’s not the full answer.”

You were a bit taken aback by his response. It wasn’t so much that it felt like he was calling you bluff, but it felt more like he could see through you. Especially since he was right; that wasn’t the full answer.

Again, it felt like you were struck by a bolt of courage and the words tumbled from your mouth, “Yeah, you’re right. I can see behind that mask of yours. I can see your eyes. You’re not the kind to hurt someone innocent. Sure, you’ll rob and cheat, but you won’t hurt anyone. So, no, I am not afraid of you. As for the rest of you, I can’t say for sure. But you, I’m not scared of you.”

Behind his mask, you could see the corners of his eyes crinkle a little, as he was giving a small smile. “Well, you may not be flattered by my previous compliment, but I am. And since we’re being honest, I should give you an answer of my own. You’re pretty cute. If you ever want to get in trouble with someone who has kind eyes, try and find me some time. You’ll find I’m pretty easy to find.”

Before you could say anything else, one of the other robbers came running in. It was S and he looked pissed. “Oh my God, WY! Hurry the fuck up! HJ is mad beyond all reason and we seriously need to get out of here before the heat does. So c’mon!”

As S ran out of the bank, WY sighed and rolled his eyes. “Damn, we’re all in for it when we get back to base. Maybe you won’t be able to find me since I’ll be six feet under.”

“I don’t know, your boss could be reasonable.” Even you knew those words were a lie as you said them, a smirk stretching across your lips. “But before you go, give me a hint of how I can find you. Perhaps I will take you up on your offer.”

He glanced around before shouting. “IF ANY ONE OF YOU TELL THE COPS ABOUT WHAT YOU’RE ABOUT TO SEE, I WILL HUNT DOWN EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU AND TORTURE YOU UNTIL YOUR LAST DYING DAYS.”

Before you could call him out on his bluff, he lifted up his mask and winked at you. Quickly, you memorized everything you could about his face. He had a small mouth and a button nose. But what really struck you about him were his eyes still. They were big and wide, sparkling with mischief and wonder alike. He was truly breathtaking. Perhaps you really would take him up on his offer to try and find him, just so you could see a face like that again.

Just as quickly as he lifted his mask, he quickly pulled it back down and raced out of the bank. It was like a spell had been broken. While everyone was in a rush to get information of the robbers, corroborating stories, and calling police, you were frozen in place.

It felt like your life had drastically changed in that very moment, that brief moment you saw his face without his mask. It was like you were seeing him at his most vulnerable, and you liked what you saw. Sure he was a stranger, and you barely knew his name, you knew you were never going to forget him. He was someone that was going to plague your mind for the rest of your life.

A small smile wormed its way onto your face.

Maybe you were tired from work. Maybe you were frustrated because your peaceful day off was thwarted by not only having to go to the bank, but also because you were part of a hold up at the bank. Maybe it was because you had a death wish. But none of that mattered anymore.

As you started to leave the bank, the man who had been standing beside you called out, “Where do you think you’re going? The police are going to want to talk to you! You’re the star witness you know!”

You glanced over your shoulder at him. “Unlike the rest of you, I’m not pressing charges.”

“But, but, but they’re criminals!” The woman who was before him blubbered, tears still falling down her cheeks. “They stole our money!”

“No they didn’t.” You opened the door to the bank and picked up the bag that was in front of it. “At least, they didn’t steal the money each of you had on you. However, they took the money from the bank. So if the bank wants to press charges, it can. But I hold no alliance to an institution, least of all to a bank.”

You threw the bag into the bank before walking out.

You had a criminal to find.

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bornonthesavage · 1 year

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Tell Me "Don't", So I Can Crawl Back In Part 6

Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 AO3

“You. Fucking. Idiot.”

Eddie stared at his reflection, his hair disheveled from where he’d been pulling at it, and tried to burn those words into his skin with his eyes. Because really, what had he been thinking? Why had he invited Steve to his show? Well, he knew why. It was that goddamn smile and those stupid earnest eyes. The way he’d so casually and sincerely told him to call if he ever needed a ride. As if it were that easy. And maybe it was for Steve. But for Eddie? Who had worked so hard on not giving a shit what pretty rich boys thought of him? It was catastrophic.

Because either Steve was the best actor alive, which was highly doubtable, or he was just genuinely a great guy who liked to hang out with Eddie. Which, wasn’t that just a world ending notion? It was for Eddie. Because despite his best efforts (And yes, Gareth, he had put real effort in), this was starting to feel an awful, horribly lot like a crush. On a straight boy. Something he’d sworn he’d never do again. And with that came the terrible truth that he wanted Steve to like him.

So why had his traitorous mouth invited him to the show on Wednesday? It wasn’t Steve’s thing. And it was going to hurt when Steve looked around, listened to them play, and then walked away. Because why would he do anything else? Steve was from a different world, one that Eddie had never and would never fit into. But now, here Steve was, forcing his way into Eddie’s spaces. No, not forcing. Because Eddie had invited him. And fuck, he’d seemed so enthusiastic about wanting to come.

But you’ll be there, so that means I can make it my thing.

Jesus H. Christ. Who said things like that? Well, Steve Harrington, that’s who. Where the fuck had he even come from? If Eddie hadn’t been annoyingly aware of Steve for the last three and half years of high school, he might genuinely think his subconscious had dreamed him up as his own personal torture device. A straight boy who looked like a wet dream, smiled so sweetly, and actually wanted to spend time with Eddie? A veritable apple of Eden. Something that was right there, but still out of reach.

But it was fine. It was just a little crush. He could get over it. If Steve wanted to be friends, he could do that. He’d gotten over crushes before. Granted, they usually ended with him either getting his ass kicked or with the other person neve speaking to him again. But this time could be different. He could be different.

Eddie leaned in close to the mirror. “Get it together, you fucking loser! This is not a big deal. You and Steve Harrington can be platonic buddies. Just dudes being bros. Guys being pals. You will not think about how soft his lips are. Because he is straight, and we’re not doing this again! It doesn’t matter if he’s nice to you. We’re not so pathetic as to fall for every single pretty boy who isn’t mean. So get. A. Grip.”

He took another second to glare at himself before stepping away from the sink and opening the door. As he stepped out of the bathroom, he paused at the sight of all his friends staring at him, sprawled around Gareth’s living room

Jeff shook his head. “Dude, you do realize that door isn’t soundproof, right?”

Eddie glanced behind himself, heat flooding his face at the realization that all his friends had just heard that little meltdown. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, obviously. I don’t care.”

He walked to the sofa and dropped heavily on it, jostling Josie and Gareth. He’d become very good, over the years, at ignoring pointed looks and meaningful glances. Now, that skill was coming in handy, as he felt every eye in the room settle onto him.

“So,” Josie said, her voice faux casual in a way that only she could manage. “What exactly is going on with Harrington?”

Eddie chose that moment to become very interested in a stray sting on his jeans. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Grant snorted. “Seriously, dude? You couldn’t come up with a better lie than that? Or did you think none of us had noticed the sudden golden boy jock sitting with us every lunch period?”

And okay, look. Eddie knew he’d have to talk this out with the rest of the gang eventually. He’d been avoiding it, up until now, because the truth was that he didn’t know what to say. No matter what Steve said, Eddie had no idea why he had chosen their little band of misfits to join in with.

“Yeah, I mean, what about it?” he said with a shrug. “He lost the rest of his friends, so now he’s sitting with us.”

“Okay, but why?” Mic asked, holding up his hands. “Why us? Why you?”

“What, you don’t think my charm is enough to draw in the likes of Steve Harrington?”

It was a deflection, Eddie knew that. But only because he didn’t know. He didn’t know why him. Sure, Steve said that he like that Eddie was real. But Steve only knew that now. He hadn’t known it that first day, after they’d spoken together for the first time. Hell, Eddie hadn’t even been particularly nice to him.

“Not really, no,” Jeff said, looking around at the rest of the group for support.

Eddie leaned back on the sofa and pressed and hand over his heart. “Wow, Jeff. I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just break my poor little heart.”

Gareth, predictably, was the one to lose his patience with Eddie first. “Look, man, it’s just weird. Like, what if this is some big prank that the jocks cooked up to make y- us look stupid?”

Eddie wanted to pretend like he hadn’t heard that slip up. Because he got it. He did. And at first, he’d also thought it was some sort of joke. But now? He really didn’t think so. And maybe he was just a hopeless gay disaster, blinded by a handsome boy’s smile. But he also wanted to give himself credit. Both at the diner and in the car, he’d seen the way Steve looked at him. So open and vulnerable, a little bit afraid but also hopeful. And more than anything, he just seemed lonely.

“Look, I get what you’re saying. I do. And you know me, if I thought this was just a dumb jock prank I’d be the first to throw Steve out on his ass. But… I’ve hung out with him a couple times outside of school now, and I don’t think that’s the case. Steve is just… he’s lonely. He gave up the jock lifestyle, and with that all his friends. Have any of you taken the time to consider that maybe he saw our group, made up out outcasts and people who had no where else to go, and figured maybe he could find a place to fit in among us? That we’d be the people who wouldn’t judge him?”

And as he said it out loud, it was like a puzzle piece slotting into place. Because yeah. That actually made a lot of sense. What had Steve said? He’d given up the bullshit.

I want something real. Something that makes me feel anything more than dull acceptance of what I’ve always been told I should be. What I should want.

Eddie knew all about fighting against a society that told him he should want something he never would. About drawing a hard line in the sand and putting his foot down to say no. About fighting against the tide of fate that dragged him toward a future that had been predetermined by a father who cared more about his next score than his kid. So, if he could be something else, something better, why couldn’t Steve? He deserved that chance. Eddie would give it to him.

When he looked up and met the eyes of those around him, they seemed at least somewhat pacified. Which was good, because he didn’t want to fight them on this. He wasn’t going to turn Steve away. He’d already decided.

Grant was the first to break the silence. “But, Eddie. You should still be careful. None of us want you getting hurt.”

It was touching, really. When he’d first come out to Hellfire a year earlier, he hadn’t really known how it would go. Hell, it hadn’t even happened on purpose. But when Gareth, Josie, and Jeff had unexpectedly walked into the backroom of The Hideout and saw him lip locked with another guy… well, it had been pretty obvious. And he’d been terrified. Terrified that he was going to lose the chosen family he’d built up around himself. That he’d be rejected by the very people who he’d brought together.

But that hadn’t happened. They’d accepted him, embraced him. Told him that it didn’t matter who he loved, he would still be Eddie. And fuck, he loved them for that. But with that came an overprotectiveness that sometimes grated on his nerves. He spread his hands and gave them all a wide grin.

“Guys, calm down. You act like you all haven’t had little friend crushes on another person before. This is nothing. I’ll get over it, and then we can all move on with our lives. Besides, it’s not like I’m delusional. I know Steve’s straight.”

His friends didn’t seem totally convinced, but that was fine. He would show them. On Wednesday, when Steve came to the show, he’d show them that he and Steve could be friends. He was a big boy. So was Steve. Both figuratively and literally. Yeah, Steve was a very big boy. Hell, he could probably toss Eddie right over his shoulder and—No! Nope. Crap. Okay. This might be more difficult than he’d initially thought.

#steddie #steddie au #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #I'm seriously having fun writing this

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

Note

Perhaps maybe a little something with Aemond inspired by the song Sucker by the Jonas Brothers?

Can be smut or not

👉👈😳 maybe possibly if that's okay

Side-eyeing you hard for your terrible taste in music lol I could not bring myself to listen to The Jonas Brothers, so Googled the lyrics and chose this:

"Don't complicate it 'Cause I know you and you know everything about me I can't remember All of the nights I don't remember When you're 'round me."

Warnings: Angst, mutual pining. Word count: ~900

“A toast!” Aegon shouts for what feels like the hundredth time that evening, draining the contents of his wine goblet in a single swallow.

She follows suit, wincing as the ruby liquid burns her throat. Her head is starting to swim from the effects of the alcohol, she is not used to drinking quite so much in such a short space of time.

Surprisingly, Aemond is keeping pace with the pair of them. He normally refrains from imbibing altogether. He is keeping his composure so well that she cannot tell if he feels as thoroughly soused as she does.

“To your final night of freedom!” Aegon jeers at Aemond, slopping wine across the dining table as he moves to refill both their goblets.

Her face falls as she remembers the exact reason why they’re sitting drinking together in the first place. Aemond is getting married tomorrow.

She had been a ward of House Targaryen since she was eight years old. Not possessing the interests that were typical of a highborn lady, she had gravitated towards Aegon and Aemond. She had enjoyed watching them spar. She even learned to wield a sword herself under their instruction, when Ser Criston Cole wasn’t around to fret that it was too dangerous an undertaking for a lady.

Aemond had shared his books with her, and she’d accompanied him on his many visits to the dragonpit as he’d admired the beasts that dwelled there, longing for one of his own. She had always taken Aemond’s side throughout Aegon, Jace and Luke’s relentless teasing. She’d shared in Aemond’s devastation when he’d lost his eye at Luke’s hand.

He was her best friend. She had never considered it anything more than that as the years had passed, until Alicent and Otto had broken the news that Aemond was to be betrothed to a Baratheon girl.

She had felt her heart shatter, all the air leaving her lungs. She was going to lose him when she was only just realising she was in love with him.

She had buried her feelings, gritted her teeth and learned to bear it as the pretty dark haired girl had visited the Red Keep over the course of the year-long courtship.

Things between her and Aemond had remained unchanged and for that she was grateful. She had assumed that now he was to be married he would pull away from her, but he continued to spend every spare moment with her. It was bittersweet torture.

Now it is the eve of the wedding and Aegon is determined to send his younger brother off in style, or at least ensure he exchanges his vows on the morrow with a sore head.

She places a hand over her wine goblet as Aegon attempts to refill it. “I have had enough, I think.” She says. “I need some air.”

She draws in a steadying breath as the cool night breeze hits her flushed skin as she steps out into the gardens. Leaning against a wall, she looks up at the stars, gathering her thoughts. I just need to get through tomorrow…and then what? Learn to live a lifetime without the person who has your heart and is completely unaware of it.

“Are you alright?”

Aemond’s voice startles her and her eyes flit down to look at him. There is a slight sway in how he is standing and a small smile tugs at her lips as she realises he is every bit as drunk as she is.

“Too much wine.” She half lies, ignoring the way her heart flutters as he draws near.

“Mmm.” He reaches up a hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I wish it was you.”

The way his voice slurs slightly does nothing to dilute the shock of his words, or the gooseflesh that prickles her skin at the feel of his touch.

“W-what?” She stammers, eyes wide and pulse racing.

Aemond closes his eye, his nostrils flaring as he takes in a deep breath, before placing the flat of his palm on the wall beside her head and looking down at her.

“You.” He utters. “I should be marrying you.”

Her heart feels as though it has leapt into her throat. She cannot get enough air into her lungs as she stares up at him, wide eyed. “You are in your cups, Aemond, you do not mean that.”

He shakes his head, bringing the hand that is pressed against the wall behind her down to caress her cheek. “I do. The wine has simply given me the courage to say out loud what I have always felt. Tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

Her eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his warm palm against her cheek. “I can’t.” She whispers, opening her eyes to gaze at him sadly. “But it does not matter. You are marrying someone else tomorrow.”

“We still have tonight.” Aemond offers, leaning close to her, his lips mere inches from her own. “I would rather have a single night with you than a lifetime of not knowing how it feels to be loved by you.”

She says nothing as Aemond closes the gap between them, kissing her hungrily. She melts into the embrace, returning his passion with equal fervour. This time when she tastes wine it is upon his mouth and she does not wince. Nothing has ever tasted so delicious.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond stannies #aemond one eye #pro aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst #hotd aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd angst #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fan fiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fiction

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sehtoast · 4 months

Text

Remember Me (Homelander x OC)

2.7k | memory loss, drunk homelander, mild angst, slight starlight appearance, new first kiss, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

Original Request: Forgotten hl x Ben. Ben loses his memory and doesn't remember hl.

If there was a form of torture to be found in the entire world that could truly hurt him, it was this.

Watching the love of his life, the star in his sky, the pulse in his very veins run around without a care in the world for him. See, his little Benjamin suffered quite a blow to the head a while back. That’s all it should’ve been. Just a bump on the head. But, no. No, the supe who hit him had to go ahead and hit him so fucking hard that he gave the bug amnesia of all things.

It was a knife in Homelander’s heart when those beautiful brown eyes looked at him without an ounce of recognition. He was there when Ben woke, but he almost wished he wasn’t.

He circled the planet 30 times that day to keep from burning the world to ash.

Worse than all of that, though, was watching him change. Sure, John tried to interact with his little spider and renew the spark, but it was impossible to do when the only thing he knew was the old Benjamin. The one that loved him, that cared about him more than anything in the world. This new one was… just not the same, and Homelander didn’t know how to start at square one again.

The others did, however. Especially Starlight, who seemingly seized the opportunity to tell Benjamin of every dirty deed he’d ever done. Homelander knows because he’s heard it. Lingered outside the wall of Benjamin’s suite and heard every word Starlight said about him, each over dramatized detail about how he was every fucking thing under the sun. A murderer, a thief, a nazi-fucker, a tyrant– every goddamn insult she could possibly find.

She did it in such a clever way, too. Wiggled her way into his life with her sickly sweet kindness, spent time with him, introduced him to Butcher and his band of supe-killing pieces of shit. Ben had already been weirded out by his attempts to woo him once more, so it apparently wasn’t all that hard to convince him that his former lover was the devil incarnate.

Homelander had to watch as the love of his life began to conspire against him. Had to see the look on his face as he listened to every accusation, every truth and half-truth, and it was the most agonizing experience he’s ever gone through. Not even the torture of his childhood could cut this deep.

He’s never been one for attempting to drown his sorrows. Normally, Homelander would go destroy something– maybe punch furiously through a glacier or launch himself into one side of a mountain and emerge from the other, but he felt truly and wholly weak. Vought had been crafting an experimental alcohol that could intoxicate even the most powerful supes. He never intended to be their first test subject.

Four and a half bottles of the stuff later and he was three sheets to the wind. He stumbled through his penthouse for a time, snuggled up to Ben’s favorite also-forgotten blanket, ranted and raved with his other self in the mirror, and generally did all sorts of unbecoming things. By the time he unscrewed the fifth bottle, he had managed to find enough courage to enter Benjamin’s apartment through the access panel he once used every day.

His normally graceful footsteps were anything but as he stumbled through the kitchen, back the hall, and into Benjamin’s bedroom. The web-head had been sitting cross legged in bed and fiddling about on his laptop, and he certainly looked more than a little startled. Homelander stood there for but a moment, staring, before breaking down into weak sobs.

“Miss you s’much!” He sniffles, lip quivering.

Benjamin rose from the bed and approached him slowly, as if expecting a threat or violent act.

“Uhh… Homelander? You okay?” Ben asks carefully. He’s unsure of how to handle the possibly nuclear situation that all but broken through his door, but he couldn’t just sit there. “Hey, c’mon buddy, I got you. Here, come sit down.”

Homelander lets the love of his life lead him to the desk chair he used to sit in regularly. The thought makes him cry more.

“Can I have that?” Ben inquires with an outstretched hand.

Homelander forks over the bottle immediately. He’d give his little spider the whole world if he asked for it.

The wall crawler reads the label for a moment before huffing a laugh. “How many of these have you had?”

“Like four or seven. I dunno…” Homelander shrugs.

“That’s… a lot.” Ben declares. He sets the bottle on the desk and spins the chair to face the bed, where he sits. “Why so many?”

Homlander’s lip quivers again as he mulls over the possible answers. His drunken mind can only muster one, though.

“I miss’ou s’much!” He slurs in a way that would have his sober self feeling thoroughly humiliated. “Y’were my world, but now I have no world ‘cuz you don’t like me anymore.”

Ben sighs softly. This song and dance again…

“For once I fuckin’ liked my life, but now you’re gone and I got nothin’ but your fuckin’ blankets to remember you by!” Homelander lurches forward, startling the bug. He presses his face to Ben’s thighs and cries against him. “Meant everything t’me, please… Please come back!”

Ben can’t deny that there is a certain ache in his chest when he’s near Homelander. But he doesn’t know this man, only what he’s heard– which has not been good. A part of him believes Homelander’s confessions, believes they really were an item, but he doesn’t know what to think of it.

He’s drawn away from his thoughts by Homelander’s knees hitting the ground with a heavy thud. The god of the supes clings desperately to his dangling legs, crying his heart out.

He recalls Starlight’s words. He always did have a soft spot for you. We could use it to our advantage.

But that feels… wrong.

His hand smooths over the top of Homelander’s head and he swears the cries grow louder.

“Here, c’mon.” Ben tugs at him to help him stand. “Sit up here with me. You don’t have to grovel, y’know?” He directs Homelander to sit beside him. Seeing the man with splotches of red on his tear stained face was certainly a huge difference compared to his usual cold, commanding expression. Something about it made every cell in Benjamin’s body scream to give him a hug, so he did.

“What’s your name?” The wall crawler asks. “Like, your actual name.”

“J-John…” Homelander sniffles. “Y’used to call me–”

“Johnny?” Ben doesn’t know if he was just able to assume that or if he somehow knew it, which is such an incredibly odd feeling. It wouldn't be the first thing he's known without actually knowing.

Queue another lurching sob from his drunken visitor.

“Yeah!” Homelander cries. He looks almost hopeful.

“Look,” the web-head moves away from him. “I’m not… How do I wanna say this…”

John’s shoulders hunch as he prepares himself for disappointment. He should've known better…

“I don’t know you. But I guess I did– like, really well. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, but… I just don’t know you.” He explains softly. “But I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Homelander’s eyes light up with excitement. Hope stirs in his core and he swears the alcohol practically leaves his system in one go. He feels a little more alert, at least.

“So… why don’t you stay with me tonight. We can watch some shitty movies and talk about things. Hopefully you’ll sober up a bit and you’ll be okay to go home tomorrow.”

At that, Homelander gave a laugh. “I live two floors above you, silly!” Feeling happiness bubbling in his gut had become such a foreign feeling over the past few weeks. He thought he’d never feel it again.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben laughs. “But no supposed boyfriend of mine is gonna be allowed to drink and fly, so you’re stuck here till you’re good.”

By morning, Ben wakes to find Homelander curled against his side. There’s an odd tranquility to it, and he even kind of likes it. They decide to do it all over again the next night– sober, this time.

And then the next night.

Two weeks go by and Benjamin finds himself elated to see Homelander every time. He wonders how mad Annie must be with him, but ultimately can’t find it in his heart to care when he’s being flown around in those strong arms. They touch down on top of the Queensboro Bridge– a location Homelander had described as one of their spots.

They used to like to watch the sun set over the river, just as it was doing now.

“Pretty,” Ben lifts his mask and wears it more like a beanie. Easier to bask in the beauty of the golden rays without the lenses.

“Sure is,” Homelander breathes, lips twitching into a smile when Benjamin catches him staring. “Sun’s nice, too.”

“Psssh,” the bug giggles. He chooses to recline on the rusty platform and Homelander follows. Below, they hear the honks and insults of an instance of road rage. They share a laugh and it all feels so familiar.

Ben turns on his side to face Homelander.

“You’re not like everyone says, y’know.” He declares softly. Before Homelander can ask, he’s already elaborating. “You’re sweet. You're a hard ass with the team and you torture Ashley a bit too much, but you’re a good guy underneath all that badness.��

“Yeah, right.” John rolls his eyes. “I’m actually evil, don’tcha know?” He didn’t mean for that to sound as dejected as it did.

“Mm, well, I’ve always had a thing for bad boys,” Ben smiles sweetly. “Especially ones with blonde hair.”

“It’s not naturally blonde.” John retorts, though he’s more than pleased when a gloveless hand rakes through his locks. He didn’t even notice Ben taking it off.

“Still nice.” Benjamin replies, giving a gentle tug. He scoots in a little closer, propping himself onto his elbow to lean just slightly over him.

Homelander stares up at him with soft, doe-like eyes. It practically makes him melt.

“I’m glad you got drunk that night.” Benjamin confesses. He can see the embarrassment flicker in Homelander’s eyes, but he only smiles wider. “No, really. You– I dunno if we’d have ended up spending time together if you hadn't just barged in like that. God knows I'm too nervous to ever make the first move. But, I’m really glad you did.”

He traces the faint lines on John’s forehead with his forefinger. As he trails it lower, he can see those beautiful blues dilate. A tinge of red blooms in John’s cheeks.

“Cute when you blush…” Benjamin grins. They still hadn’t done more than this. Just laying next to each other, sharing mostly innocent touches. Not even a single fucking kiss. The sound of leather creaking preludes a bare palm resting on the back of his neck, and Ben swears the touch alone sends a shiver down his spine.

Homelander bites back every impulse to lean up and kiss his little spider like his life depends on it. He’s fucking petrified of scaring him away, of losing what little progress he’s made. So many times now he could’ve had him. Could’ve swooped the boy off his feet and into bed if he’d just had the goddamn audacity to take what he wanted.

But he was so afraid of driving him away. He can’t lose him twice.

He can’t.

So he shuts his eyes, sighs through his nose. Of course he was blushing like some sort of love struck fool. That’s exactly what he is.

That finger brushes over his lips and he parts them on instinct. It feels so good, so fucking good every time Benjamin touches him. He aches for more, but he knows he must wait. It’s why he doesn’t just dart his tongue out and suck that curious digit into his mouth. Ben has to want it too.

“Sometimes I get flashes of things,” Ben tells him. “The other night I remembered that you like this.”

Homelander practically sings a moan when Ben dips his finger inside.

“You like milk, like… a lot. You wear red briefs that always give you a little wedgie, but you don’t like wearing boxers– at least not in the suit.” Benjamin begins, smiling fondly at him. “You like pepperoni and bacon on your pizza, but you’d never admit it because you think it’s a bad look to even eat the stuff.”

He laves his tongue over Ben’s finger as he listens, staring up through clouded vision. Had he really started to remember? Such little things, but… maybe one day his precious Benjamin’s mind would be whole again.

“You think the funniest thing in the world is eating seafood in front of The Deep.”

With each musing of recalled memories, Benjamin leans a little closer until the only thing truly separating them is his own hand.

“We flew to a beach in New Zealand a few times. I got stung by a jellyfish that one time and you convinced me to actually let you pee on my leg!” Ben laughs happily. “Turns out it’s just a myth that pee helps the sting.”

Homelander chuckles at the memory, but tears up too. His little spider was remembering. Bit by bit, their life together was coming back. Small things, but he’d take anything.

“We used to sit on the Chrysler Building a lot… I think I fed you ice cream up there once.” Benjamin slips his finger free slowly, tracing it back over Homelander’s lower lip before cupping his cheek. “We kissed for the first time on my couch…”

Even the slightest breeze would fucking knock their lips together. John laid perfectly still, scared out of his mind that somehow the moment would be ruined if he so much as moved. His lips parted and he fucking prayed.

“Much as I can't remember stuff about myself, I'm starting to remember you. And I really, really like you…” Ben breathed before finally closing the gap, sealing their new first kiss with a smile. The bug felt fireworks explode in his body, tingling everywhere, searing his heart and mind with a fresh memory that felt so very old.

And Homelander… he’d be humiliated by the weak cry that shook him were he with anyone else. He couldn’t help it. The relief, the joy, the bliss– it was too much not to. His head began to swim with every breath, every taste, and he could’ve sworn he was floating because–

Wait… He was. Just a little.

“Sorry,” he gasped against Ben’s lips, making the bug giggle that adorable sound that always sent a tingle straight to his heart. “I got a bit–”

“I don’t mind,” Ben murmurs so sweetly. The web-head plants the most tender kiss to his forehead before leaning back.

It’s like seeing stars, the way those eyes sparkle above him. It makes his heart feel fit to burst, like he could vibrate out of his skin from how happy he was. There was more than just a simple chance for them. So much more.

“I don’t mind at all.”

From that moment on, he felt whole again– or, at least, as much as he ever truly could. It took time, but Benjamin’s mind started to return. Some things were still hazy, but he was there to fill in the blanks until the day came when he didn’t have to. Eventually, it felt like nothing had ever gone wrong– save for Starlight’s attempts to woo his little spider over to the opposition’s side.

Homelander admittedly ended up taking an opportunity to roll Ben’s mask up a smidge and kiss him silly right in front of her, much to his little spider’s embarrassment. The look on Starlight’s face was fucking priceless, but that wasn’t the best part of it all.

The best of the best was waking up beside his little love bug every day. When they would send their cute back and forth texts, spend their breaks together, eat dinner, relax, chase each other around the city– just… everything. Every single thing they could possibly do together was the best part of it all.

Every second is a gift.

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #the boys #antony starr #the boys fanfiction #request

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jonathanbiers · 2 years

Note

For the prompt meme, how about 20 and 34? Looking forward to reading whatever you come up with, I love your stuff 🥰

send me a pairing + a number and i'll write a mini-fic! 20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear 34. things you whispered in my ear assuming you meant this for steddie! also full warning, i got carried away with this one. it's a lil angsty

Steve's running late; it's not his fault, really, even if it kind of is. He promised Dustin he'd take him to the nearest bigger city that morning, one with an exotic pet shop. Somehow, even after Mews, Dustin's enthusiasm for reptiles hadn't waned. He wanted a bearded dragon, and his birthday is coming up...

He didn't anticipate that he'd fall in love with the beast, too. He lost track of time, letting the little baby reptile — "Her name is Skurge, Steve!" he can hear Dustin's exasperated voice still — crawl all over him, cling to his shirt.

He didn't forget. He's just running late. This is what he tells himself as he parks in the street in front of Gareth's house, the open garage revealing all four members of Corroded Coffin inside, practicing. None of them notice him, the music is too loud for the engine of his car to be noteworthy. The song ends just as he's getting out of the car.

Ever since Eddie got out of the hospital, him and Steve are pretty close friends. Steve let him and Wayne stay at his house for a while, while they looked for a place after their trailer was torn to shreds. He didn't mind the company, welcomed it in fact. He thinks Eddie knows this, he still stays over from time to time. They take turns picking movies, listening to each other's music. Eddie visits Steve at work. Steve comes to Eddie's band practices. None of it is helping the silly little crush Steve has. It's making it worse, actually, having to watch the effortless way Eddie sings into the mic, eyes closed and skilled hands dancing along the fretboard of his guitar. It's not fucking fair.

The logical solution should be that Steve stops going, but he can't lie to himself. He loves the torture of it. Loves when Eddie turns to him when they're done, a little sweaty, breathing a little hard, his smile a little wild as he asks what Steve thinks. Steve just says it was good, never tells him what he's actually thinking. He can't very well say that he thinks he wants to kiss him until he's that breathless. He can't.

Because hanging out with Steve, being his friend, that's one thing. Steve's different than he was when they went to school together, he's a good person now, nice. Easygoing when he's not in babysitter mode. Even the rest of Corroded Coffin has come around to him, even if he had to bribe them with cold beer for a few weeks first.

He's not delusional enough to think he's Eddie's type, though. Eddie's never mentioned it, but Steve knows him — he likes metal, fantasy books, imaginative games. Steve, only half-jokingly, tried to help Dustin come up with a character for one of their D&D campaigns and got laughed at. He tried to start reading Lord of the Rings once while he was over at Eddie's, and felt like he was drowning in the words more than he was reading them. They're not from the same world, and that's okay. Being friends is enough.

Eddie's back is to the driveway, and none of the rest of Corroded Coffin notices Steve either as he walks up, weaving between the few cars parked there. He's just passing Gareth's dad's truck when he's able to hear the back half of their conversation.

Jeff and Eddie seem to be bickering, "...only sounds shit 'cause you're sulking 'cause your boyfriend isn't here."

"Wha—" Eddie sputters, "okay, first, he's not my boyfriend, what—"

"But you wish he was," Jeff goes on, monotone as he adjusts dials on an amp, as if he's discussing something as matter-of-fact as the weather.

"No, I don't," Eddie insists, and if Steve wasn't already frozen in place he would be now. "I don't— he's not even my type, come on."

"No?" Gareth asks, muffled as his head is bowed to adjust something on his drum kit. "Is that why you've spent the last thirty minutes going on about where's Steve, Steve is usually here by now, have any of you heard from Steve?"

Eddie's sputtering again, and Steve tries to ignore how his heart sinks when he begins to speak. "That's not— We're just friends, alright? Close friends, but I definitely don't like him like that— He's— he's a jock, for fucks' sake. He wears polos and spends an hour on his hair every day—"

"He's also nice and a good guy, you spent a full week convincing us yourself..." Gareth trails off as he lifts his head, must be satisfied with whatever he was messing with. He locks eyes with Steve, and there must be hurt evident on his face, because Gareth's brows draw together. "Eddie."

"Yeah, Steve's cool," Dan, their bassist cuts in, and Jeff nods in agreement.

Eddie keeps going, though. "Cool, sure. Doesn't mean I want to date him, and I'd really appreciate it if you guys stopped pestering me about it—"

"Eddie," Gareth says again, his voice insistent. Jeff notices, turns to follow Gareth's eyes. Steve is still frozen to the spot. Eddie is still going on.

"—Like, it's getting really fucking old and— ow, Jeff, what the fuck?" Jeff smacks Eddie on the arm to get him to stop, and gestures toward where Steve is standing.

Almost in slow motion, Eddie turns. So does Steve, though, finally snaps out of whatever has kept him rooted to the spot. It's one thing that now Gareth and Jeff know, but he doesn't want Eddie to see just how hurt he is by his words. Doesn't think he could take it, the look of pity. He's trying not to think, letting his feet take him back toward his car. Distantly, muffled behind Eddie's voice in his mind repeating all the reasons Steve isn't good enough, he hears Eddie calling his name. He ignores it, he doesn't want to hear whatever apology Eddie has for him.

"Steve, fuck— please, look at me." Steve feels a hand on his forearm, Eddie isn't grabbing him, just trying to get his attention.

Despite thinking better of it, Steve still turns, faces Eddie. He doesn't see pity, not exactly — guilt, sure, and something else. "It's alright," he says, feeling the opposite, "you don't have to apologize, it's— I get it, y'know? You don't have to...explain, or whatever. You don't like me back, it's fine, it's whatever—"

"I didn't mean it," Eddie blurts, eyes wide and looking everywhere but Steve's face. "I don't hate your hair or your shirts, I— wait," Eddie stops short, meets Steve's eyes, squints a little. "Back?"

Shit. "Um. I didn't..." Steve doesn't know what to say at this point, doesn't know how he can backtrack that. He thinks it's obvious considering his reaction to the conversation he walked into, but now it seems like Eddie had no idea.

Steve is still floundering when Eddie says, his voice soft and tinged with something like disbelief and wonder, "You like me?"

Steve just shrugs, and his voice sounds small to his own ears. "Yeah, but it's— You don't feel the same, and that's okay, so I'll...I'm just gonna go."

This time, when Steve turns, Eddie does grab his arm. He brings them face to face once again, and Steve's just about to open his mouth to say something when Eddie's hand moves to his cheek. All thoughts leave his head immediately, because now they're just...standing there, and Eddie's holding his face, looking at Steve like he's not sure he's real.

The moment feels like forever, but Steve knows it's only been a second, because he doesn't even have time to take a breath before Eddie's lips are on his. Thinks that might be for the best because it would've just been knocked out of him anyway. Eddie's a good kisser, and his hands are warm on Steve's cheek and his lower back. It takes a few seconds for his brain to catch up that this is reality, it's not a daydream and he finally kisses Eddie back, lets his arms wrap around Eddie's shoulders. He hears the other three quarters of Corroded Coffin cheering, hollering, Gareth banging on his drums. He thinks they're assholes, he thinks he loves them.

It's over too soon, but finally Steve can breathe. "You..." he starts, his brows furrowing in confusion. "You said—"

"I lied," Eddie interrupts him, presses their foreheads together. "I just wanted them off my back about it. Steve, I've been kinda crazy about you for— Too fucking long."

That brings a laugh out of Steve, because the feeling is mutual. "Since when, huh? Tell me."

Eddie just pulls Steve close, and Steve thinks he's leaning in for another kiss, but instead his lips graze against the shell of his ear as he whispers, "Ever since you took a bite out of that bat."

#monstrousfemale #this was supposed to be mini #this is 1.5k words #hgjfdhgjk #stranger things #steddie fic #my fics #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie

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bullet-prooflove · 8 months

Text

Past Mistakes Part Thirteen: Lost Time - MIke Duarte x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @nessamc @jayblackpanther @mysoulisasunflower @littleone65 @thesandbeneathmytoes @katluke25 @mydarkestsecretlol @evee87 @wooshwastaken @hearthockey @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @rosaliedepp @storiesofsvu @smellsliketeensspiryt @legit9thlunaticwarrior @xoxabs88xox @kiwiithecrazybird @spooky-pomegranate @chavez-ashley @telepathay @weiwei0210 @spaghettificationandpretzels @plaidbooks @irishavengersassemble

Past Mistakes Series:

Part One: Try - Mike turns back up in your life after three years apart.

Part Two: Hope (NSFW) - Mike and you get reaquainted.

Part Three: California - Mike and you discuss the past.

Part Four: Favours - Mike asks Liv for a favour.

Part Five: Choices - Mike comes face to face with someone from his past.

Part Six: Truth Hurts - Mike begs you to tell him the truth about what happened three years ago.

Part Seven: Sharing - Mike and Joe have a conversation.

Part Eight: Buried - Mike discovers that McGrath’s misdeeds go far futher than he thought.

Part Nine: Complicated - Mike discusses moving forward.

Part 10: Feral - Mike returns to the apartment to find you’ve disappeared.

Part Eleven: Torture - You wake up in the basement.

Part Twelve: Fire - You and Joe discuss moving forward.

Mike finds you sitting on the porch outside his house, smoking a cigarette as you watch him walk up the path. You recognise the pinched expression on his features, the way his lips purse together. You shoot Joe an apologetic look before he pushes himself up off the porch to intercept the other man. You blow out a stream of smoke as you watch the exchange. Mike’s clipped, fierce tone, his hands on his hips pushing back his jacket. Joe’s jaw clenches before he jabs his finger at you, his dark eyebrows furrowing. You see Mike exhale, the muscle in his cheek twitching before he turns his head to look at you.

Joe takes his leave, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his jacket before he walks back towards the SUV.

“Don’t be too hard on him.” You say softly as Mike sits down alongside of you. “I made him bring me.”

“Mi vida.” Mike chides you. “You’re supposed to be on a plane to California.”

“You still hide your smokes in the same place.” You say instead, ignoring his words as you offer him the cigarette. He plucks it from between your fingers before taking a long drag.

“If they’re not in the house, I feel less inclined to smoke them." He tells you before hanging his head. “I wanted to be there tonight. I listened to everything over the radio. I’m sorry. I…”

“Mike.” You say softly, your fingers threading with his. “It’s ok.”

“No it’s not.” He says forcefully, his eyes stinging as he stubs out the cigarette in a half empty plant pot. “I wasn’t there for you. Now and back then, when all that shit happened with McGrath. I can’t stop thinking about it, how you handled it all by yourself and I…” He trails off, his lips pursing together in a grim line. “I wasn’t there.”

“You’re here now.” You remind him, nudging him with your shoulder. “You found me; you got me out of there, you have no idea how grateful I am.”

“You don’t need to be grateful.” He tells you tilting your head towards you, his gaze meets yours. “I just want you to be safe, I want you to be able to live your life again without this thing hanging over you. It’s why Velasco was supposed to take you to the airport, why you’re supposed to be on a flight to California.”

“I can’t leave you Mike.” You whisper as your forehead comes to rest against his. “He’s taken so much from us already; I can’t let him take anything else.”

Mike’s fingertips trail along your jaw and you sigh as his thumb traces over the apple of your cheek, savouring the sensation of being in his presence. For the first time the two of you have nothing to hide, your relationship doesn’t have to be a secret, you can just exist in the same space with one another. You hadn’t realised how freeing that could be until this moment. He kisses you softly, there’s a tenderness in his kiss, one that he reserves only for you.

“We’re gonna be alright you know.” You murmur against his lips. “He can’t break us; we won’t let him.”

Mike kisses you again and this time there’s a little heat, just enough to ignite something inside of you. Your fingers thread through his hair, drawing him closer. He whines into your mouth before drawing away, his cheeks flush.

“Come inside.” Mike whispers against the corner of your mouth. “I wanna make up for lost time.”

Love Mike Duarte? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Want more Mike? Check out his Masterlist here!

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#mike duarte #mike duarte x reader #mike duarte x you #captain mike duarte #law and order svu #l&o svu #svu

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 11 months

Text

Chapter 9 Part 1: Ne cede malis (do not give in to evil)

Triggers: mentions of torture, mentions of dead people, mentions of SA, murder, swearing, someone dies

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Ghost regained consciousness almost instantly, grunting and shaking his head as he straightened up. By some miracle, the jeep had landed upwards after rolling over, and he was so big he had been boxed in the driver’s seat. That had saved him from being thrown out of the open air jeep.

‘‘Fuck!’’ He turned hastily, ignoring the sharp pain in his joints, stiff from the effort to hold onto dear life inside the jeep while rolling over, to see the backseat empty. ‘‘Christ… Riot!’’

He first saw Floyd, trying to get on his knees with his hands still tied to his back, shaking his head dizzily while trying to make out where he was. As Ghost got out of the jeep he kicked him in the chest, sending him to the ground.

‘‘Do not fucking move or I’ll gut you’’ He growled, his eyes still looking around until he found her, kneeling with her head in her hands, her helmet and gloves forgotten on the ground of the forest while rocking back and forth, her laboured gasps audible. Ghost rushed to her, just half listening to the static and Price’s frantic voice coming out of the comm asking for their status.

‘‘Ghost, tell me something, for the love of… STATUS’’

‘‘Alive’’ He informed briefly, kneeling in front of Riot and forcing her head up to look into her eyes, which were open wide, terrified and unfocused, gasping trying to breathe enough air in, in a full blown panic attack that he had witnessed starting with the sound of the explosion. ‘‘Look at me’’

He felt tempted to pull down her half balaclava to allow her to breathe better, but he wasn’t sure if it would make things worse, so he simply yanked off his gloves and cupped her head in his enormous hands, forcing her to face him, his brown eyes boring into hers.

‘‘Listen to me. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out’’

‘‘Ghost, what’s happening? What’s Riot’s status?’’

‘‘Panic attack’’ He answered curtly, still focused on her, who was shaking like a terrified animal in his hands. ‘‘Come on, lovie, breathe for me. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out’’

Riot blinked, her panicked eyes focusing again, and she started following his words, taking air in, holding it, and then shakily exhaling. He kept instructing her how to breathe in hushed whispers, keeping her head still in his hands and her eyes on his, his low, gruff voice grounding her and bringing her back to her senses.

Slowly, she brought her hands up to cover his, still shaking a bit, and Ghost nodded, satisfied.

‘‘There’s my girl’’ He whispered as he helped her up, glad to see that apart from the panic attack and maybe some bruises or soreness it seemed none of them had any serious injuries. She clung to him for a bit after being brought to her feet, still shaking but less violently.

‘‘Well, I’ll be’’ Floyd was sitting now, looking battered but with a stupid grin under his moustache. ‘‘Riot Vega, the bulldozer. Trembling like a little girl because of a little blast’’

Among the many problems of Lieutenant Donald Floyd, the most prominent one seemed to be his lack of self-awareness along with an absolute inability of shutting the hell up to preserve his life.

Ghost, occupied putting his gloves on again, saw the fire returning to her eyes and her face turning slowly to glare at the officer.

‘‘Shut up, Floyd’’ Riot warned, her voice icy cold and venomous, but he just laughed. If he was driven by the cannabis or the adrenalin or a combination of both, it wasn’t clear.

‘‘Oh, I’ll only warn you once, right?’’ He quoted, chortling, trying to rise to his feet, his hands moving behind his back. Ghost’s eyes narrowed and his hand went to rest on the butt of his gun. ‘‘Rico always said how much he wanted to break your uptight ass… guess that’s what the separatists did, hey?’’

Ghost drew his gun immediately, but he didn’t have time to shoot before Riot fell on the officer after grabbing her helmet off the ground. The shell connected with Floyd’s chin sending him back down on his back, his arms flailing at the sides, free from the zip tie thanks to a small box cutter. She avoided the small blade by pinning his wrist to the ground with one of her knees and started hitting the man with her helmet, enraged, while he tried to cover himself with the other hand and push her away.

‘‘Ghost, what’s happening?’’ Price sounded confused at the noise, Floyd was still half laughing half choking while she kept hitting him with the helmet, and suddenly he screamed when the hard shell broke his nose.

‘‘You fucking whore!’’ He tried to take a swipe at her but she didn’t even flinch, tossing the helmet aside to punch him right on his windpipe, rendering him breathless.

‘‘Nothing to report’’ Ghost answered dryly.

‘‘You son of a bitch!’’ Riot grabbed Floyd by the collar of his uniform and pulled him up to growl right in his face. ‘‘Bastard! Bastards, the lot of you! You bombed a building with us inside! You left us to die! Why? Just tell me fucking WHY’’

‘‘I don’t know! Rico spoke with someone on the phone when you made contact, and then told me an arrow had been sent and to delete the feed!’’

‘‘With whom did he speak?’’ Laswell’s voice intervened in the channel again, demanding. ‘‘Floyd, with whom did Rico speak?’’

‘‘I swear I don’t know, he doesn’t inform me of his dealings!’’ Floyd tried to free himself from the enraged Riot over him, who was still shaking him and landing a punch after another on his already battered face.

‘‘You discarded us as if we were nothing! You lot just demolished a building on our heads and left us for dead, not even knowing if we…!’’

‘‘We knew you were alive! After the blast!’’

Time seemed to stand still. Ghost had been fairly entertained until then, watching Riot beating Floyd, but now he tensed when she fell silent. From his experience, he knew that silent, white-hot rage was way worse than the explosive fury.

Obviously, Floyd did not.

‘‘We heard you breathing after the blast, your body cam was still working! You were coughing, and crying, and I don’t know what you were saying because it wasn’t English but…’’ His voice trailed off when he finally realized how much he had fucked up.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Riot leaned in until her nose was almost touching Floyd’s, her unblinking icy blue eyes fixed on his dark eyes now finally full of fear.

‘‘You knew I was alive. You knew I was alive under the rubble and left me there to rot’’ She said, almost casually. Ghost tensed more as she continued. ‘‘You knew’’

‘‘It was Rico!’’

‘‘I don’t have Rico’’ Her voice hardened, her hands slowly releasing the collar of his uniform until she grasped his throat and pushed him down to the ground. ‘‘I have you’’

‘‘Ghost, what’s happening?’’

‘‘Later’’ Ghost wasn’t about to stop her. He understood too well.

‘‘Do you know what they did?’’ She grunted in Floyd’s face, applying pressure on his throat as he tried to free his hand from below her knee, and using his other hand to try to push her. ‘‘Have you ever been kept in a cell with the lights on the whole time, Donny? For three days, Donny? With what was left of your teammates, Donny?’’

Floyd made a strangled noise below her, trying to take air in, his hand desperately grabbing at her hair and yanking from it, but she didn’t stop.

‘‘They dug them out, did you know that? Mosquito and Duster were mostly whole, but Bush and Spade were in pieces, Donny. Pieces. They threw them in the cell with me, for me to look at them rot and swell and smell, for three days. Do you know what happens to a corpse hours after dying? It moans’’

Vernon’s corpse beside him, underground, caged, constricted, putrid odour that he still could smell.

Floyd’s free hand grabbed Riot’s half balaclava, desperate to hold onto something, to force her to release him, and while moving her head to shake his hand off the piece of clothing was yanked down to the base of her neck. His eyes widened when he saw the gash on the left side of her face, angry red and almost throbbing with fury as she kept speaking through clenched teeth.

‘‘Do you like it, Donny? Do you want to fuck me now, you bastard?’’ She pushed him harder into the ground, pinning his free hand with her other knee. ‘‘That’s what their leader wanted, Donny, and more. But you already knew that when you left me there knowing I was alive. You lot couldn’t even kill me right’’

‘‘Ghost, what is she doing? Stop her!’’

Click.

Ghost switched his comm off, drowning Laswell’s angry voice, knowing full well Riot’s was still on but she wasn’t listening to anything that wasn’t the terrified gasps of the man beneath her, and her own horrific memories in her head. He approached her slowly.

‘‘He tried to get me to blow him, Donny. I was still half concussed from the blast, and still, I fucking bit him. He cut my mouth open to force me to release him, Donny’’ She was unhinged, almost spitting saliva on Floyd’s terrified face as his eyeball capillaries started to break. ‘‘He said he would take something from my body for each morning, afternoon and evening that it would take for him to heal’’

Ghost kneeled behind her, slowly, trying to not disturb her, using his body weight to pin Floyd harder to the ground. She didn’t seem to even register his presence, completely lost and locked in that cell in Transnistria.

‘‘I lost count of the times they water boarded me. They took most of my nails. They took two molars. They broke my jaw. They broke two of my fingers. They beat me. They used me’’ She continued, her tone casual, as if she were speaking about someone else’s ordeal. ‘‘Do you want to know what I did when I managed to free myself, Donny…?’’

Carving his way out using Vernon’s jaw. Killing each one of Roba’s sidekicks before dedicating his time to the man himself.

‘‘I fucking killed them all, Donny. I fucking killed them all, and set their bloody leader on fire while he was still alive’’

Riot snarled, her eyes locked on her prey, trying to put all of her weight and her sorrow and her rage on her hands while gripping tightly the windpipe beneath her bare palms, battling to keep Floyd pinned beneath her with her knees on his arms while the man trashed around.

His taunts had given way to distraught rattles, trying to fill his lungs, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets while she mercilessly choked him.

An enormous hand rested on hers, the bony fingers painted on the glove tenderly prying her hands away, allowing Floyd to take in a shaky breath.

"...nnnggg bitch...nnGG" The man's voice was cut off swifly when Ghost's hand exerted pressure again, slowly, deliberate, pinning her hands against Floyd's throat once more.

Christine had thought he would stop her. That he would feel repulsed by such a personal way of killing someone, staring into their eyes as the light faded in them.

Riot didn’t give a shit.

She felt his ominous presence kneeling behind her, his plate carrier pressed tight against her back, one of his arms gently cradling her, with his other hand on hers.

"Careful now, love" His voice in her ear, a deep rumble that for some reason made her feel safe, grounding her. "You don't want him to go too soon"

Riot grunted, feeling Ghost’s weight adding up to hers on her hands, her eyes still on Floyd, who could only emit gurgling sounds now.

‘‘Mosquito was alive after the blast, you asshole… You didn’t understand what I was saying because I was talking to him’’ She whispered, coldly. ‘‘Do you even fucking remember their names, Donny? Miguel Ramírez! He had the most infectious smile you could ever imagine, and he agonized under that fucking rubble and I couldn’t do anything except pray with him as he suffocated to death’’

Ghost tenderly pulled her hands back, allowing Floyd a brief moment of respite, his head over hers, his skull mask a sinister reminder of where the officer was headed to.

‘‘And do you remember Emil? Emil Harper? Duster, that absolutely useless idiot that couldn’t hold his alcohol, but could clean you out playing cards before you even knew how’’ She felt tears of rage pooling in her eyes, but fought them back. She wouldn’t give in to tears. She would not be weak. ‘‘And Silva? Delvin Silva, with that ridiculously awesome afro that you were always giving him shit about and calling him Bush. He was better that a hundred of you, and you killed him. You killed us!’’

Her hands were starting to press against Floyd’s throat, guided by Ghost, and the officer’s eyes started to bulge out again, trying in vain to keep breathing. There were screams and orders coming from her comm, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying.

‘‘And Noreen… Spade... Norry… Noreen Harrison… she was my friend, the only other woman in that blasted unit of ours and I protected her from you and the rest as best as I could and I couldn’t… I couldn’t… ’’ The lump in her throat, threatening to render her as breathless as Floyd was, forcing her to drown a pained sob while remembering Norry’s kind smile, Thank God you were sent to this unit, Vega.

This time she didn’t stop when Ghost withdrew his hand, and thus he pressed it again over hers, helping her crush the windpipe of the almost passed out officer beneath them, listening to his startled attempts to breath until he just stopped moving and making sounds at last. Ghost’s free arm was still around her waist, and he stayed there, unmoving, while she breathed shakily, the voices becoming weaker and the memories going back to rest.

Don’t laugh, lovie. Please don’t laugh.

Finally, she turned her head to look at him over her left shoulder for the first time since he had known her, allowing him to see that side of her face fully at last. The scar started right at the corner of her lips and ran along her cheek until it ended below the cheekbone, and it was red, not fully healed, with small signs of having undergone a not completely successful surgery.

And still, she was so fucking beautiful.

There was a rapidly forming bruise under her eye from one of the punches Floyd had managed to land, but, her eyes. The something was there, hidden behind the rage and the sorrow in those blue irises with soft touches of grey. The something that he both wanted and was scared of at the same time.

‘‘I should feel something’’ Her voice was low, restrained, but calm as always. Collected as always. In control. ‘‘Relief, or disgust. But I don’t feel shit. What does that make me?’’

A good girl

‘‘A survivor’’ Ghost answered, still keeping her against his chest with his arm around her waist, and his free hand left Floyd’s throat to cup her face in his palm. ‘‘Feelings will come later’’

Riot nodded slowly, and her body relaxed against his. Holding someone while both of you are in full tactical gear is not the most comfortable thing in the world, but in that moment, in a forest in Belarus or wherever the fuck they had ended at, after dawn, hovering over a corpse of their own doing, it felt good. Both her hands went to rest on his forearm, one of her thumbs brushing the fabric of his sleeve absent-mindedly.

‘‘We need to move’’ She whispered, and behind her, he nodded, switching his comm on again, none of them willing to stand up yet.

‘‘Ghost, talk to me’’ Price’s voice was calm and gruff as ever, if he was disgusted or miffed at what they had heard through the comm, he didn’t show or mention it.

‘‘Took a tumble with the blast. Moving to exfil’’ He grunted, rising to his feet and dragging Riot up with him with little effort, and once she was firm on her feet, he released his grip. ‘‘I’m going to check if the jeep starts’’

‘‘You need to get to exfil asap, Belarus is not happy with our presence there either’’

‘‘Copy’’ He walked over to the jeep to turn the key in the ignition, and by some unknown miracle, the engine started after some rattling. ‘‘Engine works, will get there asap’’

‘‘Tablet still works, I’m locating our position to recalculate the route’’ Riot informed, having found the rugged tablet that had been thrown out of the jeep along with her and Floyd. She recovered their backpacks and threw them to the backseat, and then went back to the officer’s corpse. She was tempted to kick him, but instead, she grabbed his boots and started dragging him to the jeep.

‘‘What are you doing?’’ He asked, getting into the driver’s seat.

‘‘I’m not leaving him here where he could be found. I want Rico to fucking wonder what happened to him’’

Ghost almost chuckled, watching her lift the deadweight and drop it on the backseat with their backpacks, and waited for her to get in the passenger seat and check the tablet.

‘‘So where are we dropping him?’’

‘‘He’s going into the fucking river’’ Riot huffed, tapping impatiently the tablet. ‘‘South. If we’re fast, about two hours’’

‘‘He’ll float. Eventually’’

‘‘Not if he’s strapped into the jeep. We have to get rid of it too’’

‘‘True enough’’

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whumpacabra · 4 months

Text

33. Listeners

Missing persons, implied past torture and captivity, referenced blood, animal death [dog], and gore, military mention

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

‘Road closure ahead’ my ass, Jennings thought glancing between the detour sign and the stretch of open highway ahead of them. They slowed their van, rolling to a stop on the shoulder.

It wasn’t like there was any traffic to worry about out here.

Harrison wasn’t picking up from the number Katie gave them. The area code only had three possible towns: Duck Creek, Cedar Hills, or Ashford.

They visited Ashford first, it being the west most town on their list. Military families of a nearby installation - Jennings honestly assumed that’s where Harrison would be. But if the locals knew of a dark eyed revenant Marine, they weren’t giving Jennings any clues.

They were trying to keep a low profile and stopping in town for more than a meal and some gas would raise some eyebrows, so they headed to the next destination:

Cedar Hills.

But the road was out for construction, so they followed a detour that deposited them to the last stop on their list.

Duck Creek was a bust as far as finding Harrison. It was a Shoshone community, so Jennings felt comfortable probing a bit more about any strangers in the area, but all had been quiet the last few days. Save for a few more helos in the distance, which they had been keeping an eye on since their little patch of land was a no fly zone for the US military. The folk they talked to did promise to keep an eye out, and give Jennings contact information if the reporter happened to need a hand.

And that left Cedar Hills, and it was looking like Jennings had found their target.

Not only was the eastward road to Cedar Hills out, but so was the westbound road. Jennings shoved down their self flagellating curses for skipping the town in their rush to rule out the others. They had a job to do. They clicked on the radio, listening to the long haul truckers crackle into range.

—

Somewhere in a familiar bunker, gloved hands were rifling through the ash of burned files and the shredded wires of gutted computers. For all their rush, it seemed they were too late.

“Are ye havin’ better luck down there than I’m havin’ up here?” The voice that crackled through the radio was a bit too pitchy, thick Irish accent catching on the static. “Medical ward’s a bloody massacre. Jesus - just shot ‘em in their fuckin’ beds.” The harsh breathy voice that followed was only slightly annoyed, fond but focused.

“Stay on target Specter-4. We’ll leave them to the clean up crew. Just take samples, pictures, and move on.”

“Nothing down here.” Agent Walker sighed into her radio, glancing to where her hired help had disappeared into the hallway. “Nothing we can use, anyway.”

There was a short whine, drawing Walker’s attention. A sharp whistle pierced the cold air, the freelancer signaling their dog to stay put in the hallway. Walker could tell why as she followed Specter-3 through the last door.

The air of the holding cells was tainted with decay, rot thick where her flashlight illuminated coagulated blood and drying viscera. Her lips curled in disgust, making out the mangled corpses of both a dog and a man - half mummified from the lack of flies or worms to help them rot.

At the very least they would have DNA to work with.

“Spec-3, give me a swab kit - Spec?” Walker was still getting used to her new coworker’s quirks. Specter-3’s silent focus was as frustrating as it was insightful, or so the Ghost had insisted. “What is it?”

They glanced back at her, brow furrowed. Something in her chest curled at their young face, frustrated she couldn’t convince the Ghost to bring older associates. He trusted these two Specters more than he trusted anyone else in the business, so Walker had let it slide.

But that didn’t mean she trusted them as much.

Specter-3 shined their flashlight into the open cell at the end of the hall, rough hewn stone stained with blood. Still fresh, at least compared to the long dried gore elsewhere in the holding cells.

“How recent?” Walker asked, hovering over Specter-3’s shoulder. Her eyes were drawn to the footprints she could now separate from the dirty and old blood on the floor, starkly leading from the cell to the main hallway.

“A day or two.” Their voice was husky, rough from disuse but soft as they used a sterile piece of gauze to soak up the blood where it was still wet. Too much blood for one person.

“We have fresh blood down here. Looks like they left before this place went dark.” Walker’s radio hummed, a few seconds passing before another voice crackled through.

“Left or taken?” Ghost’s voice rumbled through the static, tone musing with morbid curiosity as Specter-3 stalked back to the hallway. Their dog’s tail began to wag as they held out the blood soaked gauze.

“We’ll know when we track them down.”

—

“How long do we have?” The director’s voice brought a hush over the room, the shouts and accusations of blame silenced by the reminder that they were all on borrowed time.

Unless someone caught the missing asset, of course.

“A few days at most. I’ve locked own the town as best we can. Stationed what PMCs we can spare to keep watch on the perimeter.” The grizzled security officer looked haggard, anger and annoyance in equal measure. “We can’t keep this up forever and we can’t go in guns blazing - ”

“Why not?” The director scoffed, taking a sip from his coffee. Everyone knew he spiked it just to get through this meeting. And no one was going to outright defy him.

“There’s civilians - ”

“And that’s stopped you before?” The security officer shrank under the director’s knowing stare, grumbling about duty and other meaningless platitudes. “Cedar Hills is a speck on the map. A dying frontier town. And unless you want it on the front page of the Times we need to either extract or destroy the assets there.”

“It’s your agent that fucked up - ”

“They’re good, loyal US citizens, sirs.” One of the agents finally spoke up. He had worked closely with the asset’s original handler, but he was taking the situation well for a man who found his coworker’s mutilated corpse less than 24 hours ago. “If they understand that they’re harboring a terrorist, they’ll turn him over.”

“And if they don’t?” The security officer was tense, but the question was rhetorical. They could not risk the asset or the project being discovered.

“Cliff, they’re just redneck hicks. Half of them will drink themselves to death before the year’s out.” The director, shrugged, nodding to the agent. “Agent Anders you have permission to head operations in Cedar Hills. Cliff, I want you to assist - ideally, I’d rather not have to deal with you bitching about this for the rest of my career. I know our PMCs are getting expensive so see if you can pull some men from the local installations - keep ‘em in the black.”

The meeting adjourned, Cliff stalking up to Anders.

“If this gets messy, we’ll need to clean it up. Quickly.” Cliff had been regulating the town’s exposure to their operations for years now, and this wasn’t his first time dealing with a leak. The last thing they needed was more attention. “No witnesses. I want that town untouched or razed. Whatever’s faster.”

Anders scoffed, as though there would be any question to his methods. He wanted the asset alive for personal reasons, he wouldn’t burn the town down until after he got what he came for.

Besides, if things settled down and this all blowed over, the project could resume. Under new management, of course.

“Yessir.”

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

Taglist: @i-eat-worlds @whumpy-daydreams

#whump #missing persons #past torture #past captivity #gore #animal death #military setting #freelancers au #was debating having this before prev but eh it works here too. woe - canon characters be upon ye!#*didn’t sleep or eat for 48 hours straight* I survived the weekend and [redacted]. on a technicality.#I had food I just. a) forgor when we were out in the city and b) I kept getting sick on the bus ride there so I didn’t eat on the ride back #anyways. I slept most of today+did laundry and such so I’m going back to bed. goodnite.#edit: i was so tired last night i just. didn't hit post akjfjdhgdhggh

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ilguna · 2 years

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☼ my eyes only (Draco Malfoy) ☼

summary; ' Hi could you use these prompts for a draco malfoy x reader, I like all of these so whatever one u want you can chose of u can use then together. "I don't care your mine he doesn't get to look at you like that." "stop being a brat and listen to me " " where do you think your going dressed like that". Basically I really would like to see a possessive and protective draco:))) I love your work BTW!! ‘

warnings; swearing

wc; 1.5k

NOTES; READER IS RAVENCLAW.

–

When Professor Flickwick told you that you were going to start tutoring other students, you originally thought it was a joke. You’d never heard of tutoring at Hogwarts before he mentioned it. It took a few minutes of him explaining how it would work for it to finally dawn on you.

He wasn’t kidding.

Honestly, it took all of you not to laugh at the idea. Of course, they would depend on a Ravenclaw to do this type of work. God forbid they even touched any other student in a different house. You had half the mind to ask Flitwick if Hermione Granger was also being subjected to this torture, but you weren’t ready for that arguement. Not yet, anyway.

It wasn’t until he actually assigned you a Gryffindor student, Ron Weasley, did you try to put your foot down. It isn’t that you don’t like Ron, because you’ve had plenty of friendly conversations. Hell, you’ve hung out with his group once or twice when they’ve invited you. It’s the fact that your boyfriend, Draco, wouldn’t take this news well.

You’d never hear the end of it, and knowing him, he’d assume that you chose Ron. And then he’d ask why Hermione couldn’t do it, if they’re all such good friends. Probably complain to everyone he can to just get the word out, that his girlfriend is insufferable and trying to torture him on purpose.

Besides, the things he’d do to poor Ron Weasley, as if you could scare someone into having good grades again. The bullying would slowly start to get worse again, as much as you try to smother Draco with enough activities to make him forget about his atrocious manners.

You got every one of these points on the nose.

The only part you didn’t consider is the fact that since the assigned studying area is the library, a very public place, Draco would be able to follow you. At first, you really thought he wasn’t serious. Draco doesn’t study, he pays attention during class, his marks are nearly perfect.

This doesn’t stop him.

“(Y/n).”

You toss your hair over your shoulder, trying to ignore Draco, who’s elbow to elbow with you. Each step you take forces you to bump into him, throwing you further off course. He’s doing it on purpose, trying to steer you from the library. If you move away, he’ll just follow. He doesn’t care that this is mandatory and not by choice.

“(Y/n).” Draco repeats, trying to grab your arm, “How long is this supposed to go on for?”

“Until he’s caught up.” You tell him without looking over, “Or his test scores improve.”

“That isn’t fair.” Draco whines, “How am I supposed to bring you to The Three Broomsticks?”

“It’s only an hour, Draco. We can go afterward.” You sigh, “Honestly, you can go without me, I’ll join later.”

He scoffs, not taking a second to entertain the idea. You fix your bookbag on your shoulder, crossing your arms. He falls behind for a second, still following. You think he’s distracted by another student, finding his next unlucky victim.

The silence is what tips you off that he’s not beside you anymore. You stop, eyebrows drawing in while you turn around. Draco’s face is turning a gentle shade of red, jaw clenched. This ought to be good.

“Where do you think you’re going, dressed like that?”

Your face twists, “Dressed like what?”

“That skirt.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. Unbelievable, “Draco, I wear this skirt all the time.”

“Do you?” He asks.

You’re not going back to the Ravenclaw tower, like hell you’ll be late. Professor Flitwick didn’t mention anything about losing points if you’re late, but you’re not really willing to take the risk. And you don’t want to walk all the way back, either.

So, stubbornly, you don’t break eye contact with him as you yank the skirt down further. It’s supposed to be high-waisted, it was manufactured to be at your waist. Still, it’ll work just fine if it’s settled at your hips instead. Instead of it being a little above your knee, it’s now well below.

“Is this better?” You ask, tilting your head.

You think you see his eye twitch, yet he doesn’t argue. It’s not often you beat Draco at his own game, but when it happens, it’s so goddamn satisfying. Draco comes to meet you, holding out his elbow for you to take. You bite back the laughter, taking his arm.

The two of you still manage to make it to the library on time, being forced to split. You’re sure to make a big show about kissing him, and then you cross the room to pick a table that’s still open. While you’re laying out your books and the notes you took in charms yesterday, Ron comes into the library.

“Hey,” He breathes, taking a chair, “Sorry I’m late, Harry and I were on the other side of the castle.”

“Doing what?” You ask, knowing it’s nothing good. These two have been nothing but trouble since the day you all became students.

“Well, I had this brilliant idea of introducing Neville to Mertle.” He starts, you can already see where this is going, “I didn’t think that he’d get stuck in one of the stalls.”

“You’re awful, you know that?”

Ron sits up, “That’s not even the best part!”

The next hour is pretty average for how your time with Ron goes, the two of you go back and forth between telling stories about what’s happened throughout the week. Then you’ll study with him for the rest of the time, compare notes and tell him what he needs to improve on. Really, since this has started, he’s gotten better at note-taking, and it’s been showing on his marks, too.

And occasionally you’ll glance at Draco to check to see if he’s still there, or even studying. Most of the time, his nose is stuffed into a book that he’s genuinely interested in. It’s only when you laugh particularly loud, does he pay attention to what you and Ron are doing.

They’re stupid jokes, or stories about him, Harry and Hermione. It’s a wonder how she hasn’t left them just yet, considering the amount of bullshit they manage to pull. When you try to tell Ron that he’s as bad as his brothers in regards to pranks, he denies it instantly, telling you that it’s their specialty and not his.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that’s entirely true.” You sit back against the chair, arms crossed. The studying session is over, you’ve already packed your bag to go, “You all live together, they’ve rubbed off on you.”

“I’m the target of their pranks.” He says, not buying it.

“If you say so.”

Someone clears their throat right next to you, Ron’s face falls. You look over to see that it’s Draco, waiting for you to get up.

“We’ve got plans.” He reminds you.

“Right.” You smile, touching his arm. When you look at Ron, his face is screwed, “I’ll see you next week.”

“Or not, if you can finally pass an exam.” Draco spits.

“Draco.” You warn, getting to your feet, “I hope you have fun with Hermione and Harry.”

“Thanks.” Ron smiles slightly.

You wrap your arm around Draco’s, letting him lead you out of the library. You try to smile your way past people, but as soon as you’re alone again, he begins to run his mouth. The irritation is beginning to crack your mask.

“I can’t believe he was flirting with you the entire time.”

“It wasn’t flirting, Draco. Ron and I get along, it’s not my fault you made an enemy out of them.”

“You can’t see it,” He insists, “The way he looks at you. I wiped that smug look off his face.”

“He was happy to see me. You know, because we’re friends.” You press your lips together.

“I don’t care, you’re mine. He doesn’t get to look at you like that.”

You stop walking, forcing Draco to stop too. He stares at you for a second, opening his mouth to ask you what you’re doing. You’ve already cupped his face, watching his eyes.

“Stop being a brat and listen to me.” You start, “I have no interest in Ron, I will never be interested in him. I’m here with you, and I don’t plan on leaving, either. I’m allowed to be friends with people outside of our circle, though. You have to understand that.”

Draco squints, “Did you call me a brat?”

You laugh, pressing your lips to his. When you pull away, he’s got a sour look on his face, “If you’re not careful, that’ll be your permanent nickname from now on.”

He rolls his eyes, “You wouldn’t.” You wrap your arm around his again, not confirming what he said. You only make it halfway down the hallway before it’s eaten at him, “(Y/n), you’re not being serious.”

“I am.”

#ilguna #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy fanfic #hp #harry potter #requested

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discodeviant · 1 year

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Queen B

Billy/Steve | Mature | 2.1k

I have. a lot of feelings about them. so many. this is but a fraction lol, please enjoy <3 <3 Also the mirroring bingo cards were wholly unintentional--happy little accident 🥰

Read on AO3 Made for @steveharringtonbingo and @billyhargrovebingo!

“Hey.”

It wasn’t exactly romantic.

“Look at you waitin’ up for me. How cute.”

Nor was it the best kept secret they had.

“We doing this or what? Twenty seconds down.”

Billy just smirked. “Twenty-three… twenty-four…” Billy did a lot of things to Steve that may or may not have been intentional, but keeping him on his toes was evidently crucial to keeping Steve all to himself. This used to be the King’s closet—next to the nurse’s office where the last camera down the hallway didn’t quite reach. This used to be where half the girls covered him in lip gloss and shitty mall perfume, broke nails on his khakis, swore they were in love with him and said they were better than the rest.

“You’re confident today.”

Closer and closer, Billy bit his tongue as that smirk grew into a wicked, heathenish thing and poked into the goopy center of Steve’s stomach. Billy’s finger on his chest did the same thing, and every girl Steve ever laid eyes on paled in comparison to those hands. Billy bit his nails right down to the quick, was lucky on days he didn’t make them bleed and tint his pearly-whites with pink; roughed up Steve’s dick with palms that hadn’t seen lotion a day in their lives, but they didn’t need to. Not for Steve. Not when Steve made like a leaky faucet the second Billy got down on his knees.

“Think I can’t work my magic in six minutes?”

“Try five and a half. C’mon, man…”

Oh, Steve knew he could. Billy would have made him shoot in less than two if he didn’t have so much fun dragging it out until Steve had to beg him for enough time to clean up. He wondered why Billy liked torturing him so much, why Billy didn’t seem to mind being a new reason he was miserable every waking second they were in the same room. Got off on it, probably. Snuck to the bathroom to rub one out nice and filthy all over the memory of those pathetic, choked moans Steve swore were dead silent in his own bed. They really were, and Billy said yeah, okay, sure, Harrington.

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

It was still a threat, most likely. Tell anyone and he wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, but each one sounded a little more genuine than the last, and Steve was starting to think Billy just wanted to swallow every brain and sperm cell he had left.

This was one of those times that looking at Billy made Steve a little queasy. Backwards, maybe, like he should have been getting on his knees for a girl to beg for him the same way he begged for Billy with his hands in those golden curls and face between his thighs. Should have been him on his knees for Billy so he wouldn’t have to see how much better Billy was at sucking dick than the girls ever were. He didn’t need artificial stain to make his lips pop like sweet cranberry wine; they just did, and Steve just liked it, and Steve wouldn’t admit that he wanted to be the only one Billy’s lips went all red like that for. His cheeks too, when Steve called him baby or returned the pretty boy like he meant it or something. They both knew he didn’t; he was just compensating.

Billy’s mouth wasn’t on him until three minutes had gone by in such rapid agony, Steve thought the bell would ring any second. He checked his watch, listened to Billy laugh against his jeans before taking him whole without another glance. “Fucking Christ—Bil—hoohhhmygod—“ He closed his eyes until those blunt nails dug into his hip, a demand, like fucking look at me, asshole. Steve wouldn’t have said no. He forced his eyes open through bleary lust and whatever that sick feeling still was that got worse the deeper he sank into blue that looked grey under the dull yellow light bulb. Something good about them doing this before lunch, he supposed.

It caught in his throat when Billy’s lashes fluttered at him like the wings of a dusty butterfly taking off after such a short visit. Billy squinted, blinked away tears when he choked himself too suddenly, smiled around Steve’s cock like nothing ever happened, and Steve thought he was gonna hurl.

There was hardly a minute left before he was thieved of more functioning neurons, and Billy was cleaning up himself, filling the time with his tongue so Steve’s wouldn’t start running like it always did. Something about how good that felt, how hot Billy was with his new earring in, that his hair looked good, was so soft and easy and thank god he waited until after their allotted time to spray it into place. Something stupid that would earn Steve a punch in the groin for going pansy on him because this was closet time, and closet time wasn’t a sacred part of Billy’s daily routine that fucked everything up if it didn’t happen.

Barely ten seconds remained, and Steve was seeing the effects of his losses when his eyes went fuzzy and dark around Billy’s rosy cheeks. He didn’t need makeup at all for Steve to want with every inch of himself there was hardly packed back into his briefs before he was down on the floor with him. Nothing in Steve’s head to remind him why he never tried this in the first place, meeting Billy’s lips with his own somewhere, at some point in the seven minutes they agreed on months ago. Months—he’d gone months without kissing Billy Hargrove and finally hit his head hard enough on the wall to think it wouldn’t get him a shove in the stomach for trying, but fuck if that split second wasn’t worth every agonizing wheeze.

“What the fuck did I tell you, Harrington.”

“I know, I—I’m sorry—“

“No you’re fucking not. What did I tell you.”

Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

Any other day, Billy would have been hightailing it to his Honors English Lit. class, but this time he let Steve turn off his watch and kept him firm on his back against the floor, breathing harder than Steve was if that was even possible. “You don’t gotta kiss me like I’m some fuckin’ chick you wanna get your dick wet in.” Anger suddenly turned into… something else. Something strained and seductive, a face he hadn’t made in Steve’s direction before. “I’m better than ‘em anyway, aren’t I?”

Steve scowled, confused and embarrassed and—“Yeah.”

And whatever face Billy wore melted away in an instant. Angry again. Pink over his freckles that almost hid them entirely. “The fuck…” He still hovered over Steve like a cat, like he was confused and pawing for an answer that never came. Then the bell rang, and shuffling feet and laughter and voices meant they couldn’t leave, meant their seven minutes were becoming eight, nine, ten, eleven in the time between classes when they usually blended back into the crowd one at a time, not thinking of each other until the next day. Thinking of Billy too much, in Steve’s case, and maybe hoping Billy thought of him too sometimes.

“I mean… sorry? Thought you kinda figured that.” Billy got off of him then, still on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and sitting across from him. Steve mirrored it. “When was the last time I even brought a girl in here?”

“How the hell would I know, I’m not—“ Billy grumbled instead of saying whatever he was gonna say, and Steve would have loved to know what was on his mind. Or who. Tommy? Nancy? Some other dipshit Steve pretended to be friends with? Billy licked his lips, probably trying to get the Harrington taste out of his mouth. First Steve’s spunk, then his spit, and Steve didn’t know which would be worse.

He chuckled. “Shit, you hate the thought of kissing me that bad, huh. Message received.” Hated himself a little bit, and the queasy was turning violently ill as it rose up to his heart and dared to squeeze it dry.

“No, I fucking don’t, that's the whole—“ Another one of Billy’s faces, and his hands went in the air, and he rolled his eyes, and he grumbled again. “Goddammit. God-fucking-dammit.” Dug his fingers in that sickeningly soft hair of his that Steve wanted to dive his nose into and breathe until it webbed in his lungs. When Billy curled in on himself tighter, Steve loosened and crawled towards him on all fours like a dog. He slipped himself between Billy’s knees and pulled him down further, got that hand in his own and held it right against his chest. Dipped down a little lower, then, brushing their noses together, the part of his lips to Billy’s cupid’s bow. Billy pushed back against his chest without much strength, just a huff through his nose and a short swipe of his tongue between his lips. “Steve.”

“Billy.”

“Ugh. You’re annoying, you know that?” Steve smiled wider, dared to press harder against Billy’s face and memorize the texture in every inch if it killed him.

“A little bit.” Billy squirmed but made no move to push Steve away, so they stayed right where they were, pressed to each other close and even closer to a real kiss if they’d ever make it that far. “Please?”

“Please what!”

“Let me kiss you,” Steve said, soft and sweet and every bit as sickening as he hoped it would be every time. The way Billy let himself melt away when Steve purred into his ear and whispered things only special people got to hear, it did more things to Steve than he could ever know.

“I’m not your fucking girlfriend,” Billy told him, and Steve sighed. Rolled his eyes.

“I’d be showing you off if you were, asshole.”

Billy clicked his teeth and grimaced. “No you wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” Steve said, and Billy shoved him off before pulling him back in close, and Steve let himself fall right over on top.

“You’re—“

“Ruggedly handsome and totally winning you over?”

“Who’s confident again? Christ.” Steve laughed. “You’re a moron. Not winning shit, Harrington. In your dreams.”

“Not even second place?”

“Second to who, huh?”

“I knew it!”

“Whatever.”

And it was quiet again for a while. Five, ten, twenty minutes overtime, and neither wanted to go back to class. They’d propped their backpacks under their heads and snuggled into each other amidst chemical jugs and mops and brooms and dust. Steve didn’t try to kiss him again, but Billy took a bite out of his earlobe, so he took it as a compromise. A promise for later, he hoped. Something to take home if Billy didn’t want to come with him just yet, and suddenly Billy did a hundred more things to him that he couldn’t fathom for anything but the steam in his chest. It choked him out. He coughed.

“Gotta quit smoking so much, Stevie,” Billy said, mumbled against his shoulder. “Not good for you.”

“You shut up.” Billy laughed, then he sat up and kept a hand on Steve’s chest. Blinked around the small space they were cramped up in. Yawned. Looked back at Steve, who frowned and scratched his lower back. Steve just wanted to take him in like this, frizzy and red-faced from the nap in Steve’s arms he’d just woken up from. The light barely made his lashes glow, but somehow they did a little anyway. They made Steve’s heart tremble. “Wanna come over?”

Billy looked down. “Care to elaborate?”

“To my house.” Steve shrugged. “I live there. Know my way around. Got food and movies and shit, you know. House stuff.” Billy took a sharp, deep breath and yawned again, stretched his arms out without giving an answer. “Parents aren’t home if that’s what you’re worried about.” So Steve sat up and got to his feet, held a hand out for Billy which he groused over about not being princess to the king or whatever but took anyway.

Steve walked out first and told Billy to be outside in three minutes, and he was. They rode separately but close together enough that Billy had no trouble following him as if he didn’t know where Steve’s house was already, didn’t drive by when he should have been in class. Steve knew he did at night sometimes, and maybe that was why he didn’t put up so much of a fight about being invited. Billy wanted to, and he kissed Steve for real the second they got past the front door, and Steve was a leaf in the wind.

#harringrove #steve harrington bingo #billy hargrove bingo #steve harrington #billy hargrove #fanfic #ao3 #.discowrites #steve x billy #billy x steve

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