#(still love that bastard man and want to take him apart with snide comments and surface-level compliance)

[glamphantasm]

tbh, i just want these lessons to be twice as long. i have thoughts on where things are heading but hmm... probably way off

[dragon-kazansky]

Made with love | Helmut Zemo

Chef Zemo AU! 👨‍🍳

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 11

Helmut took Tony into the back and proceeded to push him back against the wall. Tony barely flinched, just fixed his suit.

"What is this?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Why are you doing to this me?" Helmut demanded.

"You know why."

Helmut grabbed Tony's shirt and pulled him closer to him. He was seeing red. He was pissed. Beyond that.

"Just leave me alone."

"No, can do, Zemo."

"You already ruined everything once before. Why must you come back and so it a second time?"

"Because no man like you deserves happiness, Zemo. Your father knew that."

Helmut proceeds to punch Tony squarely across the jaw. He ignores the throbbing of his fist as he glares at other man, who was now cradling his face.

"Why is she even here?"

"Because I invited her. Because I want to make your life miserable. Because she wanted to see you again."

Helmut growls. It was taking everything within him not to straight up commit murder here and now.

"I have Y/N."

"I know. After tonight, you'll be lucky if you still do."

Helmut stepped back and looked back at the door. Damn it! He had just left you without word. You must be worried.

"I will end you, Stark. You and your empire will fall."

Stark laughs.

"I'd like to see you try."

Zemo gives Tony a good kick before he leaves. He rushes out of that door faster than anything and instantly scans the room for you.

He doesn't see you.

He spots Sam and Bucky standing alone. He makes his way over to them, but hands gripping his arm stop him. He turns sharply to see who dared get in his way.

He had to find you.

Heike.

"Helmut."

He stops.

"Let go of me."

She let's go, lips tugging into a frown.

"It's good to see you."

He stares at her silently.

He ignores how Tony exists the back room behind her, trying to fix his suit and pretend there wasn't a horrible bruise forming on his face. Pepper hurried over to him to ask what had happened.

"Helmut, say something."

"What do you want me to say?" He asks, voice sharp and unkind.

She flinched a little.

"I thought you might be happy to see me."

"Happy?"

He turns his whole body to face her. Helmut is taller than Heike. He has to look down a bit to see meet her eyes. The way he stands over her is intimidating and not at all what she had hoped he would be like with her.

"I've ruined everything, haven't I?"

He scoffs.

"What do you think? Of course you did. You and him. Did you know my father died? The restaurant is mine now. I already have to deal with Stark trying to buy it off me, and now I have to deal with you being here. Why did you come back?"

"To see you. And no, I didn't know about your father. I'm sorry, Helmut."

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Nevermind. I have to go," he takes a step back.

Heike reaches out again.

"Helmut."

He doesn't listen. He moves his arm out of her reach and marches away toward Sam and James.

The boys straighten up when he approaches.

"Where did they go?"

"Outside," Sam replies.

"Do they know?"

"Yes."

Helmut wants to make a snide comment, but doesn't. He leaves instantly, heading outside. He pushed the doors open violently and looks up and down the street.

He only sees Natasha.

"Where are they?" He asks, coming to a stop in front of her.

"At home."

He's about to head back himself, but Natasha forces him to face her. He stares back, but whereas her gaze is judging and harsh, his is desperate and pleading.

"Did you know?" She asks.

He shakes his head, quickly.

"No."

Natasha let's go of him. Helmut doesn't anything as he rushes off. He heads straight back to the apartment.

It's quiet.

Your bedroom door is closed. He walks up to it and pressed his ear to the cold wood. He can't hear anything, but he knows you're in there.

"Y/N."

Nothing.

"I didn't know she was going to be there. Really, I didn't. It's been years since I last saw her. We were engaged. I loved her dearly, I was devoted to her, but Tony Stark saw to it that ended quickly."

The door swings open unexpectedly.

You stand there and stare at him.

"What?"

A little startled that you actually had opened the door to him, he didn't answer right away, but his soon realised you were waiting for an answer and gathered his thoughts.

"My father and Stark's father, Howard, we friends. Howard was my father's business party when Escorpión Morado first opened up, but eventually Howard signed all rights over to Heinrich. Howard married and not long after they were expecting, so he moved back to the States where he was originally from. He wrote to my father and one day cane to visit him. Tony and I were children. We used to play in the restaurant."

"You and Tony grew up together?" You asked.

"Not quite. They went back to the States and I didn't see Tony Stark for years. By the time he did come back, as I was working for my father, learning to cook just like him. The Stark's returned to see my father. We got on, for a while. The next time Tony came back, his parents had died. A car accident. He came back with this woman. Heike. She was beautiful. I fell in love with her instantly. Tony had brought us together, but soon she had to leave. She promised to come back."

You stay silent.

"She returned, again and again. We were in love. I decided I wanted to marry her, so I asked her and she said yes. We were engaged for a year and then that day came. I was standing at the alter, waiting. She knew showed up. I didn't find out until much later that Tony Stark had whisked her away back to the States with promises of happiness and money. She didn't love me. If she had, she would have been my wife that day."

"Helmut..."

"I would have told you, but I hadn't had a reason to bring this up. Not until tonight."

You look at those big sad eyes of his.

"Do you still love her?"

He looks at you.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

He nods.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm looking at you and I know for a fact I'm in love with you. So, unless you're going to run off with Stark and leave me here alone and heartbroken, I want to take my chances with you. My special and incredible darling."

You smile.

Helmut opens his arms as you fall into him, hugging him tightly. He holds you close to him, not wanting to let go. You're the best thing that had ever happened to him, and though he feels like he doesn't deserve you, he wouldn't change it for the world.

"I love you too," you whisper in his ear.

He kisses you. Oh God, does he kiss you.

You pull away and look at him.

"You do realise this gives us all the more reason to kick him off his pedestal, right?"

Helmut nods.

"Let's show Stark what happens when you mess with Helmut Zemo."

He grins.

"What would I do without you?"

"God only knows."

You kiss him again.

The bedroom door closes behind Zemo as you pull him inside. Neither one of you planning on getting much sleep tonight. You needed to make this man feel loved and treasured. Show him that you weren't her and that you weren't going to abandon him like she did.

In the morning you wake up alone. You reach out to his side of the bed, but it's empty. Waking up properly, you sit up and sigh. You had hoped to wake up beside the man you loved for the first time, after your first time~

You hear music playing from the kitchen and smile.

Oh, he's making breakfast!

You can forgive him for that. You let out a content sigh and grab the nearest item of clothing, which just happened to be Helmut's shirt from last night.

You narrow your gaze on it. His trousers were on the floor. He must have gone to his room for fresh clothes. You bottom the shirt up and grab some underwear, leaving the room just like that.

The sight before you was a welcome one.

You grin as you lean on the door frame.

Helmut Zemo had his back to you as he fried some eggs in a pan. He was completely naked, apart from the little apron around his waist.

"Hello handsome."

Helmut chuckles deeply, slowly turning his head to look over his shoulder at you. He smirks.

"Good morning, liebe."

"I would say so." You look him and down.

"How did you sleep?" He asks, not at all turning to face you.

"Really well, thanks to you."

"I do my best."

You make your way to the table and Helmut serves up the food. He puts a plate down in front of you and pours you some juice.

"I'll be right back."

He kisses you before leaving to put some clothes on. You begin to dig in, but there's a knock at the door.

You figure it's either Wanda, Natasha, or one of the boys. You hadn't checked your phone to see if anyone had messaged you after last night.

You get up and go to the door.

Opening it, you startled to see Stephen Strange there. You look him up and down, confused.

"Hello?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

"Can I come in?" He asks.

"No."

He sighs and holds out an envelope to you. You sigh and glare at him.

"No more invitations! We're not returning to that blasted restaurant."

"It's not an invite."

You snatch the envelope from him.

"What is it then?"

Stephen takes a peek around you, checking to see if anyone else is home. He clearly didn't want to run into Helmut.

"It's a warning."

"Warning?" You glare at him.

"Just read it when you're alone."

With that he turns away and disappears around the corner. You close the door and look at the envelope in your hand.

Helmut returns fully dressed and smelling wonderful again.

"Who was that?"

"Strange, he gave me this." You hold it up.

No way are you keeping secrets from Zemo, not after everything. Helmut walks over to you and takes it from your hand.

"What is it?"

"A warning, apparently."

He opens it and takes out the paper within. He reads it, burrowing his brow. He growls, crumples it into a ball, and then tosses it to the ground.

"What did it say?"

He looks at you.

"That bastard was going to try and lure you into his lies, just like he did back then."

You pick up the paper and open it.

Helmut Zemo is a fraud who can't offer you anything other than misery. Say the word and I'll have you on the next flight to the States. Don't waste your breath on him. He's only going to use you.

You are at the words.

"What the Hell?"

Helmut grabs his coat and turns to you.

"Meet me at the restaurant in an hour."

"Where are you going?" You ask.

"To kill Stark!"

The door slams shut behind him and you're left in a confused state. He wouldn't, would he?

You rush to get dressed.

@namethathasnotbeentaken @belle82devart @cathrin2405 @lieutenantn @wilder-fangirl @latenightartist-author @lucky-luck-lucky @hb8301 @charistory @thatoneartgalsstuff @thesuitkovian @malkaviangirl @zemosimp420 @realremyd @the-chaotic-cow @lostghostgirl94 @zafiro-draco @lazygurl05 @pinkcutiepiee @goddessofmischief03 @whovianayesha @myybebe @awesomesauce-abbie @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @swooning-for-mc-avoy @nonamec0s @apparrio @scuttle-buttle @alex-the-nb @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @greeneyedblondie44

[nonstop-haikyuu]

Social Media Apologies

This is my first fic with the Haikyuu Headquarters server! And it's my first Daishou fic, as much as I love that snake bastard!! This month's SFW prompt was "meet ugly" so this is about Daishou serving a ball into reader's face which leads to him groveling on social media. Honestly, I hope you guys like this!! Here's the link to the masterlist!

-

For years, I had a string of bad luck that seemed to follow me around no matter where I went or how I acted. My parents cited bad karma or a curse placed upon me when I was a child. I simply called it life being an asshole. When I gained the job as the Sendai Frogs trainer, I knew the dangers of what I was getting into. Volleyballs were constantly flying across the gym and it wasn’t uncommon for someone to catch a spiked ball to the face.

For the most part, I had managed to avoid any strays that came my way, whether it be me blocking the hit or the players that I worked with saving my ass.

That changed the day that we played Yotsuya Motor Spirits. Admittedly, I wasn’t expecting the day to be anything special, especially since Kyotani, Koganegawa, and Kei had finally started working as a team, with their fellow players supporting their talents both as a trio and separately.

“Hey, don’t let them in your head, okay, Kyo? And Tsukki, please don’t rile them up too much. I really don’t want to deal with their coach coming to rip our heads off cause you want to be a dick.” I encouraged, crossing my arms over my chest. The two rolled their eyes at my usual pep talk then mumbled their agreement, turning towards their opponents. Kanji bounced eagerly in front of me and asked, “What about me?”

“Just take it slow, okay? Don’t rush your sets,I know you can do this.” I replied, patting him on the shoulder. He grinned at my words of wisdom and they soon walked away to line up, prepared to take their stances on the court. The first set passed without anything too out of the ordinary, with snide comments and smug grins exchanged between the net.

It was the second set that seemed to make the match all the more interesting.

Daishou Suguru, an outside hitter from the Spirits, was the man responsible for the shift of the atmosphere. I was returning from the trainer’s room with a bag of supplies, knowing that at the next timeout, Tsukishima and Kanji would need tape for their fingers. Along with that, our libero would likely want his knee braced better, due to an old injury.

I was walking on the corner of the court when the whistle blew and Daishou took his stance for his serve. I glanced up for a brief second to see who would take on the receive, only to realize that the ball was hurtling towards my face at a pace much too fast for me to hide from. Shouts and gasps filled the stadium as I slammed to the floor. Blurry faces crowded around me and I faintly acknowledged the fact that my three friends were looming over me, waving their hands in front of my face.

“Hey, hey, easy. Just lay back, okay?” Kei encouraged, pressing a gentle hand against my shoulder. I groaned at the pain in my head and nose then mumbled, “Hurts. It hurts. What the hell happened?” Kyotani masked his snarl and bit out, “Bastard snake nailed you in the face with a serve. Might wanna hold still, Coach thinks you have a concussion and a broken nose.”

“You realize that I can hear you, right? It’s not like I meant to hit them. I was shooting for a service ace, give me a break.” Daishou replied, rolling his eyes.

“Shit, this hurts.” I grumbled as Tsukki pressed a wad of tissues under my nose. Daishou knelt beside me and murmured, “Hey, I’m really sorry about hitting you in the face. I didn’t see you there.”

“I’m kinda pissed that you serve bad enough to hit someone on the sidelines.” I snapped, pushing myself up. Kogane’s eyes widened at my bitter tone and harsh words, then Daishou spat, “You were walking in front of the barrier. You should have enough brains to know to walk behind it.”

I jerked my head towards the wing spiker, groaning at the sharp jab of pain and bit out, “Maybe you should learn how to serve properly then. If your serves are that high, then you’re not doing something right.” Kyotani helped me to my feet then I heard the snake hiss, “Bitch just needs to learn where to stand during a game.”

An argument between Tsukishima and Daishou began to rise with Kogane attempting to coax his teammate out of the fight. Kyotani braced against me then grumbled, “You never know when to stop talking, do you?” I let out a bitter laugh and mumbled, “He’s the one who will have to deal with the backlash. And I’m the one with a broken nose!”

He patted me on the shoulder and replied, “I’ve learned that you usually get screwed by what you say in the end.” He was right but shit, I was really hoping that I would escape any trouble that followed.

-

I, in fact, did not escape the results of Wednesday’s game. Kyotani, Kogane, and Kei came to visit me in the trainer’s room on Saturday, my first day back from my concussion, and they showed me the results of my broken nose and bitter words towards Daishou.

“Sendai Frogs’ Trainer and Motor Spirits’ Wing Spiker in the midst of a social media battle? Daishou Suguru has gone to social media to publicly apologize to the Sendai Frogs’ trainer after a stray serve broke the trainer’s nose and left them with a concussion. As of right now, the Sendai Frogs have not addressed the situation. The wing spiker seems to be desperate for a response and his fans seem irritated with the lack of acceptance from the trainer. ” Kei read off, raising an eyebrow in my direction. I scoffed at the ridiculous headline then snapped the first aid kit shut as I bit out, “Give me a break. He’s the one who won’t stop tagging me in his stupid apology. I mean, why should I accept his apology twice?”

“Because it’s good publicity and if you don’t accept on social media without a single ounce of sarcasm in it, I think you’ll be finding a new job.” our PR manager answered, entering the room. We twisted at the statement and I snapped, “What are you talking about? I could be fired over this?”

“Not my idea but the Motor Spirits’ manager is pissed that you’re not replying to him publicly so the fans of his team say that you’re being a stuck up bitch.” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. I groaned and flung myself on the trainer’s bed, whining, “This isn’t fair! I’m the one with the broken nose and he’s the one gaining the sympathy? Ugh! Fine, I’ll tweet him now.”

Yanking out my phone, I opened the Twitter app and constructed a tweet, “Daishou-san, I accept your apology. I’m sorry for taking so long to accept publicly.” I clicked send on the public message and grumbled to myself as Kei chirped, “You think the public will leave your little feud at that?” A simple chime followed his question and I glanced down, surprised to see that Daishou had privately messaged me.

“How about dinner on me? I’d really like to make it up to you.” Kei blinked in surprise at the statement then laughed, “Are you going to accept? It’s been a while since you’ve been on a date. I mean, people already think you guys are a thing.”

“Seriously?! Who asked you anyway? Hmm. I mean, I guess I could go out with him?” I asked, tapping my chin. My best friends continued to laugh as I thought over Daishou’s offer then mumbled, “I guess it can’t get worse than it already is.” Typing a quick response, I hovered over the send message then Kyotani huffed, pushing the button himself. We loom over the phone screen, waiting for his response, then a new chat appears with an address linked and a simple, “Tonight, 9 pm. I’ll see you there.” I tilted my head back then asked, “What am I thinking?”

“You need a boyfriend, that’s what you’re thinking.” Kei supplied, patting me on the back. I came to a stand then stated, “I guess I should go get ready for this date, then.”

“You’re gonna have a great time!” Kanji called out, laughter following me out.

9 pm came surprisingly slow, likely due to my repeated glances at my watch. The ramen shop was actually a ten minute drive from my apartment and I often frequented it during the weekends. I was thankful for the familiarity and lowkey manner of the shop. It would provide some comfort to me.

Bowing briefly at the shop owner, I glanced around and spotted Daishou in the corner. He smiled at my appearance then pulled out the stool across from him. I settled down on the seat and he admitted, “I’m not going to lie, I kind of thought you weren’t going to show up.” I laughed at his statement then replied, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come. Tsukki definitely wasn’t confident in you showing up.”

“Well, Four Eyes is best buds with Kuroo and that cat hasn’t liked me since middle school. You look beautiful by the way. I really am sorry about breaking your nose and giving you a concussion.” he remarked, scratching the back of his neck. I pressed a gentle finger to the bridge of my nose then stated, “Don’t worry about it. Neither of us could really do anything about this. You’re a persistent asshole, though. Why did you ask me out for dinner?”

He paused at the question and answered, “I thought you were pretty. And I like that you didn’t let me be an asshole. At least, not without a fight.” I laughed, shaking his head, and chirped, “You thought I was hot while I was being a bitch? Are you a masochist or something?”

“More of a sadist, if I’m being honest.” he blurted out, playing with my fingers. My eyes widened at his bluntness then he leaned forward with a remark, “But that can wait until after dinner. What would you like?”

We glanced over the menu and I found myself studying Daishou. His hair was relatively short, barely hanging on his forehead and it looked soft until the ramen shop’s lights. Green eyes flickered back and forth over the options and my gaze continued down to petal pink lips. His tongue flicked out and I’m surprised to see that he has a tongue ring, with fangs in place of normal canines.

“Snake bastard… I thought Kyotani was being a dick, not being serious.” I mumbled, reaching to cup his face. He startled at the sudden touch and his eyebrows furrowed together, asking, “Can I help you with something?”

“Fangs… you have fangs.” I breathed, focused on his mouth. He laughed at the awe in my voice then replied, “I was born with them. I got my tongue pierced right after college on a bet.” He wiggled his tongue afterwards and returned his attention to the menu as the server approached our table.

“Hello! What can I get for you?” I turned with a smile as I gave my order then dropped my hand away from Daishou’s face so he could answer. Once she wrote down our selected meals, she gave a small bow and informed us that our food would soon be out.

“I’m sorry. You must think that I’m a crazy person for grabbing your face like that.” I apologized, burying my face in my hands. He laughed at my embarrassment and tugged my hands down before he chimed, “It’s okay, I thought it was cute. Honestly, a lot of people are turned off by the fangs. Something about how it’ll hurt if I kiss them. So it’s nice to have someone fascinated by them.”

“I really like it actually. It looks really good.” I murmured, a shy smile stretching across my face. He smiled in return then asked, “So how did you end up as the trainer for the Frogs?” I let out a laugh and answered, “I used to go to Aoba Johnson with Kentarou and went to college with Tsuki. When they joined the Frogs, I heard they were hiring an athletic trainer so I put in an app. Now I’m here and stuck with three blond idiots.”

“Hey I’m not an idiot!” a growl interrupted, jerking our attention to the table behind us. Three men sat there with awful disguises and I could feel my fury beginning to bubble.

“What the hell are you three doing here?” I spat, jerking out of my seat. Daishou started at Kyotani, Kanji, and Kei, the two glaring at Kentarou for blowing their cover.

“Idiot! They haven’t even had dinner yet and now they know we’re here!” Kei hissed, slapping his teammate on the shoulder. I slammed my hands on their table then demanded, “Why are you here?! Which one of you morons thought of this bright idea?”

“Group effort?” Kogane supplied, ducking his head to avoid my glare. Our server returned with our food, with concern across her face then Daishou stated, “Could we get our food to go? Please? We had something come up and can’t stay to eat.” Kei turned with a bitter expression then asked, “Do you think that I would let you go on a date with him by yourself?”

“Yes! I’m a grown adult and I figured you would at least trust me enough to watch over myself! Daishou-san, I am so sorry for this! I didn’t think these three would be this dumb. My apartment isn’t too far from here if you’re still wanting to go on this date?” I asked, turning my attention back to the wing spiker.

He gave a grin and answered, “I would love to. I’ve already paid so I’m ready to go when you are.” The trio began to protest as we walked out of the shop and I shot a glare over my shoulder, hissing, “You follow us and I will end you.” They settled back in their chairs and sighed, shaking their heads.

I turned back to Daishou and he wrapped an arm around my waist, murmuring, “I think we make a pretty amazing couple, what do you think?” I leaned into his side and said, “I think you’re right.”

[cilliankelly]

DRUNK ON HALLOWEEN

FEAT: cillian & @judetaylorhq​

WHEN: the halloween party (2020)

DESCRIPTION: the thread that started it all, for the first time ever, coming to a dash near you. cillian kisses jude for the first time and everything he’s ever known changes forever. in the best possible way. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: gay panic, light internalized homophobia\

Cillian

cillian was nice and drunk. not so much so that he couldn’t see straight, but he was definitely feeling good, almost kind of floating from one room to the next, though in reality it was more of a clumsy stagger. he was wandering around, exploring the house, admiring the spooky decorations that he really couldn’t appreciate until he was like, 5 drinks deep, when he stumbled into the bedroom. he was pretty sure someone was sitting on the bed and the first thought that came to his drunken mind was aw hellz yeah because admittedly, cillian was a pretty horny drunk. once he realized it was his best friend though, he got even more excited because finally, he’d run into someone he actually knew at this damn party. “dude, you dunno how stoked i am to see you, man,” he enthused, words a bit slurred as he crossed the room to sit beside jude. “now the party can really begin.”

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫.

Jude had only stepped away from the party to smoke a joint, sure getting drunk was a blast and all, but being around a bunch of people he didn't know? Made him a little on edge, he'd slipped into a bedroom, opened the window and made himself at home, and high. Once he was done, he'd decided to take a nice nap, and it wasn't until the door opened and a drunk Cillian stumbled in that he remembered he was at a party, "Bro..." He chuckled, looking up at Cillian, "Duh, homie, we are the party." He grinned, sitting up further and staring at Cillian. "Every chick I've talked to here has a baby." He'd talked to one person, but that was enough for him to draw his own conclusion, "I'm not ready to make a baby momma." He shrugged, perfect logic was clearly top of mind for him tonight and he picked up his mask, holding it up over his face and leaning closer to Cillian, "Cil, would you still love me if I was a worm? Or this dude?" He asked, nearly giggling behind is mask before he dropped it, only then realize how close he was to Cillian's face, "I'd still love you if you were a termite, but I draw the line at worms. Slithering bastards, you know?"

Cillian

cillian couldn’t help but snort at jude’s comment about making a baby momma, his own mind straying to the 0.2 seconds he thought ellie’s baby was somehow his even though they hadn’t seen each other in over a year. he certainly wasn’t ready for that either. “wouldn’t be surprised if there was already a jude jr running around somewhere out there,” he joked, nudging his friends shoulder playfully. god, he was so glad he’d run into jude. things were just so much easier when he was around, honestly. cillian didn’t remember the last time he felt so at ease, though the alcohol was certainly helping with that. cillian didn’t really do the whole i love you thing. there were very few people in his life that had ever told him that and even fewer who’d actually meant it so it was a kind of tricky emotion for him, even in playful situations like this when it didn’t really have to mean anything. but for some reason, probably alcohol fueled reasons, cillian was giving this some serious thought. “a worm?” he asked, and now he was leaning in a little closer because it was actually kind of dark in here and cillian’s vision was already kind of shit, and he wasn’t sure who jude was even supposed to be and suddenly, the mask was gone and his nose really wasn’t all that far from jude’s. and cillian, the guy who couldn’t even tell jude his ass looked nice in a joking matter was sporting a shit eating grin just thinking about the next words to tumble out of his mouth. “of course you’d still love me of i were a termite. i’d be all over your wood.” it wasn’t a good joke but it was definitely an attempt at a joke about sucking jude’s dick and honestly??? as shit a joke as it was it was at least progress. and because he was in a rather playful mood, he leaned forward and lightly booped jude’s nose with his own, hovering close afterwards instead of pulling away. 

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫.

Jude shook his head, "you wish, buddy." he shrugged though, maybe he did have a kid out there somewhere, maybe that would be cool, to have a little person just like him around, but he was pretty sure he wasn't ready for that. he always thought he'd do the whole, have a wife before kids happen thing and so far, he hadn't met any girls lining up to play the part. "mm, a worm." he repeated back, his face still close, grinning when Cillian spoke and letting out a soft laugh. If he was sober he might have more to say, he might throw a friendly punch, or shove Cillian away, but up close and drunk, he never really had been this close to Cillian before. Not like this, and he wasn't hating the way he felt to almost feel the other against himself. "If you were on my wood I'd make sure you had a great time." He finally spoke, leaning up, sure that Cillian was going to kiss him before their noses touched and Jude let out a breath of surprise, "You're an asshole." He murmured, but he didn't pull away, instead lifting a hand to rest on Cillian's thigh, "So...if I was a chick, you'd totally be into me, right?" 

Cillian

this was usually the point where cillian would pull away, laugh this off, push jude away and make some snide comment like he always did. but something about jude’s hand on cillian’s thigh was both scary and exciting and cillian didn’t want to pull away. there was something there between them and it definitely wasn’t just drunken horniness. if cillian was being honest with himself, a small part of him always kind of wondered about them in a different way. a more than friends kind of way. and he told himself that it didn’t mean anything because he’d thought those things about girls before but he didn’t actually want to date any of them. he was just curious. and was being curious really such a bad thing? usually when cillian started thinking like this he could hear his dad’s voice echoing in his head, telling him he was a fucking fairy and that he needed to be a man and that was usually enough to shut him down and quiet those thoughts for awhile. but here in bed next to his best friend, being this close to him, their lips inches apart, cillian couldn’t help but feel like there was something right about this. and for once he didn’t feel the need to bury those feelings way down deep below the surface. at jude’s words, cillian wrinkled his nose. “i can’t even picture you like a chick, man.” and cillian didn’t want to. he liked jude just the way he was, wanted him like that. there was a bit of fear turning his stomach, warning him to step away from the ledge before he got to close. but there was another stronger part of him that was urging him forward. without really thinking about it, cillian poked jude gently in the abs. “i’d miss those,” he sighed, drunk enough now that the idea of missing jude’s abs was making him actually sad. “n’ those...” he continued, his fingers continuing upwards and ghosting lightly over jude’s pecs. “and...” his fingers stopped when they reached the neckline of his shirt, his fingers hooking into the material as he hesitated for a moment, hovering just over jude’s lips. he was conscious of his own actions enough to know that this was a big deal and that doing this was crossing into something that he couldn’t undo. but he was also drunk enough not to care. fearful he’d lose his nerve, cillian pulled jude in by his shirt collar, their lips crashing together into a kiss that was far from hesitant.

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫.

Jude pouted, "I could try, I'm really pretty, you know." He spoke softly, watching Cillian's face as his hand moved, he was surprised, usually about now was when he'd expect some sort of homophobic comment, maybe a shove at the very least, but instead Cillian was touching him, his abs, his chest, up to his collar and Jude's eyes widened, "So you have...been looking?" he questioned with genuine curiosity, usually it was just a joke, between friends, the was Cillian protested always made Jude laugh and he'd never really truly considered the idea that Cillian might be so loud about it because he secretly did have feelings towards him. He almost stopped Cillian, opening up his mouth to speak, to make a joke, a comment, anything to get the lump in his throat to go away but before he could think of anything clever, Cillian was pulling him close and oh, they were kissing. Cillian was kissing him, and all Jude could do was decide how to react. And that choice was easy, he slide one hand further up Cillian's thigh, leaning in, kissing him back, in a sloppy manner, that was just how Jude did things, is free hand moving to Cillian's waist and pulling him in. It felt good, in a way Jude wasn't sure he'd felt with anyone before, but then, he didn't usually go around making out with his best friend, so it made sense that this was new, exciting and unique for him, and he already felt a sense of dread for the moment it would end.

Cillian

cillian hadn’t really known what to expect when he kissed jude. cillian didn’t usually think too much about the consequences, like ever, so he hadn’t even taken a moment to consider what would have happened if jude hadn’t kissed him back. but he did and a cillian felt a weight slide from his shoulders as he relaxed into the kiss, surprised at how happy he was that his best friend was kissing him. cillian liked to think that he’d been around the block enough times that he really had this kissing thing down, but kissing another dude was so wildly different than anything he’d ever experienced before. thank god for alcohol because there was a messy tangle of conflicting emotions swirling around in his gut and he didn’t know that he could fight them off for very much longer without the help of booze. cillian hummed against jude’s lips, leaning into it when pulled closer. he tasted like alcohol and he smelled of weed and him and the familiarity was both comforting and somehow arousing in a way that cillian wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced. everything about this was so new and honestly really scary and while cillian usually had no trouble pushing away those uneasy feelings in the name of a good time, he was starting to panic a little about how good this felt. the uneasiness was only that much more unavoidable when cillian felt himself becoming hard in response to jude’s lips on his, and the way his hand was moving up cillian’s thigh. cillian broke the kiss, taking in a shuddery breath, though he didn’t pull away, still hovering near. he was disoriented and confused, knowing what he wanted but too afraid to just let himself have it. “holy shit,” cillian breathed, because his brain wasn’t working properly enough to put together a more coherent response. 

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫.

Jude had never really been the type to fully think out his actions before he went through with them, but under normal circumstances he would have thought a lot more about this action before he allowed himself to indulge. Of course, he'd always felt a certain level of attraction towards Cillian, he was cute, he was a lot of fun, and they were buds, they'd seen each other through a lot, and Jude was pretty sure they'd make a dope bro-couple. But Cillian had always been a little...unaccepting of things, he wasn't exactly what Jude would call open-minded, that was the main reason Jude always teased him about liking boys, and wanting to touch Jude's butt. Only...apparently he'd be right, and for a moment he felt a sense of guilt about not being more understanding towards someone who'd been struggling, much to his own oblivion. Still, all he really could focus on in the moment was the way Cillian's lips and body felt against his own, and even as Cillian pulled away, he found himself leaning in closer, chasing after that feeling still as Cillian spoke. "Yeah...whoa." He chuckled breathlessly, finally relenting, pulling back, staring at Cillian for a moment before he broke the silence again, "Okay...hit me." He shrugged, "Do your worse, buddy, it's cool. I mean that was totally hot, but...this is the part where you call me a slur and punch me, right?" 

Cillian

under normal circumstances cillian might have done just that. though honestly, under normal circumstances, cillian doubted they ever would have kissed in the first place. everything about this was a weird tangled mess of newness and cillian didn’t know what to do. he was quiet, his eyes lifting to meet jude’s before looking away again. jude had been right, this is the part where cillian’s supposed to shove him away and act like this didn’t happen and deny deny deny because that’s what he’d always been good at. but cillian hadn’t expected to enjoy this so much and it honestly had him kind of shaken up. “i’m not— i mean this doesn’t make me—“ he couldn’t say it. he just kept hearing his dad in his head berating him and making him feel small. “i mean it’s you,” he breathed, not really knowing what he meant by that but feeling that it somehow made sense. like it couldn’t have been anyone else. this was somehow different than... shit, this was all so confusing. 

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫.

It was surprising, when Cillian said nothing, even more when he did speak, and Jude let out a long breath before looking to Cillian, studying his face for a moment before he fell backwards against the bed, pulling Cillian with him so they laid on their sides, face to face, "It's me. Which means this can mean something or not. Totally up to you, dude." He offered a weak smile, "If you want to act like it never happened, that's cool. And if you want to start coming over and finally seeing what all the fuss about my butt is, be my guest." He shrugged his shoulders, "You know I have some edibles in my backpack if you want?" 

Cillian

cillian allowed himself to be pulled down on the bed beside jude, conscious of the way his heart rate went up as a result. if he hadn’t been so drunk he would have been really grateful that jude was being so cool about this when cillian was so obviously out of sorts. kissing your best friend was always risky even when there wasn’t that whole questioning your sexuality layer and cillian hadn’t even given thought to how this may have affected their friendship. did cillian want this to mean something? regardless, it already did, and try as he might to shake it, cillian knew he wouldn’t forget it. but jude was giving him that option. and it was a really tempting option. it was so much easier to just go on pretending. but cillian remembered that moment of bliss when jude had kissed him and the weight had slid from his shoulders and cillian wasn’t sure he’d trade that for the current mess of weird confusion and unease he was feeling right now. that’d he’d felt for most of his young adult life, really. “well, what do you want?” cillian asked quietly in an attempt to remove a bit of the pressure on him, though admittedly, once the words were out of his mouth he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫.

"Me?" Jude asked, as if Cillian could have asked someone else in the moment, Jude wasn't used to being the one with the choice, in relationships or anything else, but he took a moment to think about it anyways. What did he want? Being in a relationship sounded nice, it had been a long time since he'd tried to do that, but then, Cillian probably wasn't open to that. And Jude hadn't really ever considered it before, because he never expected this to happen, still, it wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had. "I dunno man. I want like, whatever you're cool with. Because I mean, this is kind of huge for you. And I'm proud of you and all that shit. But like, I wouldn't mind making out with you some more, if that's one of my options?" He grinned, "That part was pretty dope, if you ask me." 

Cillian

this was kind of huge for him. and honestly? the fact that cillian hadn’t left already in an angry sort of confused storm of... something? progress. he couldn’t remember the last time someone had told him they were proud of him and it felt kind of really good to hear someone say that. and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy that jude wanted to do it all over again because yeah, it was pretty dope. and cillian couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a kiss as much as he had that one. but this was also really overwhelming and before cillian knew what he was doing he was sitting up and putting distance between them. “i think i need a minute. or like... a lot of minutes,” he said finally. because cillian really wasn’t sure what he was “cool with” right now, and being this close to jude wasn’t helping. “but um... thanks man,” he said, his smile small but genuine. because really he was lucky that jude was such a good friend. because this could have gone a whole hell of a lot worse. 

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫.

He half thought Cillian was about to lean in and kiss him again, but when his best friend pulled away he wasn't really all that surprised, he'd been expecting it this whole time, he wasn't trying to kid himself, Cillian wasn't the man of his dreams, he couldn't even accept the fact that he was into dudes, let alone actually be with one. Still...it stung a little, the way he pulled away, asked for time, and Jude tried to be understanding as much as it sucked. "Yeah man." He shrugged it off, as if he didn't care all that much, but much to his own surprise it did hurt. A lot. "It's whatever, you know? We're both faded as hell." He got up, standing and collecting his wallet, shoving it into his pocket and pulling his backpack on, "See you around, bro. Bring M&Ms next time." 

Cillian

cillian hadn’t expected to feel so shitty when jude shrugged it off like that. seconds ago he was contemplating pretending this had never happened, knowing he’d never forget it and now that jude was halfway out the door, cillian was miffed that jude was acting like they were just both really faded? cillian knew that jude was probably doing this for his benefit but at the same time it kind of stung. because yeah, this had been a big deal. there was a panic rising in his chest at the idea of really having fucked this up because cillian really didn’t have that many friends and jude had stuck by him through pretty much everything. shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck, why did feelings have to be so confusing. this is precisely why cillian had never given thought to being in an actual relationship with anyone. it was too much. and despite all that, all cillian could think to do was kind of nod in jude’s direction as he left, sitting alone on the bed wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do now. 

[flamehairedwritings]

Don’t Walk Away From Me

Characters: Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Words: 4,189

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This story was inspired by this anon prompt request:

‘Could you do 39 and 43 with Hopper from that prompt list you just reblogged? Love your writing by the way, you write the best Hopper smut! :)’

(39. “Don’t go. Please.” and 43. “I want you so bad, baby.”)

Thank you so much!

This story contains swearing, accusations of cheating, tiny amounts of angst, dirty talk, possessive and dominant Hopper, unprotected and rough sex, and breath-play/choking.

Summary: “It starts over the stupidest thing. Doesn't it always?” 

MASTERLIST

"Fuck you, Hopper."

It starts over the stupidest thing. Doesn't it always?

When Jim Hopper picks you up from work that evening, he finds you sat outside the diner, talking with a man he doesn't recognise, maybe an out-of-towner asking for information on Hawkins. He watches you turn your head and smile widely when he pulls up, waving at him. He smiles back, feeling that stupid, warm feeling at the sight of you. It had been a shitty day and, God, is he glad it's finally over and he can see you now. He's planning to get you both something to eat from the store, something that won't take too long to cook, then he's going to make sure neither of you move from the couch, for one reason or another.

Then, he watches you squeeze the man's arm and lean a little closer to him as you say your goodbyes. And he watches the man's eyes follow you as you make your way over to the Blazer.

Climbing in, you buckle your seatbelt and turn to smile warmly at Hopper.

"Hey, baby, how was your day?"

"Fine." The answer is tight, and he doesn't look at you as he pulls a little too quickly out onto the road.

You frown, concern quickly rising within you.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

You decide to let it go, for now, knowing you can't get anything out of Hop when he's in a mood like this. The drive back is dominated by silence, but you try not to be too worried, assuming one of his officers had done something stupid today or he'd had to deal with an irritating citizen. But he'd smiled when he saw you, hadn't he?

It's when he pulls up in front of the cabin, kills the engine, slams the car door shut and heads inside without you that you start to feel the concern creeping back. No matter what mood he was in, he always waited until you were out of the car before heading up the stairs. Biting at your lower lip, your frown returns as you step out of the car and close the door, holding your bag at your side.

Entering the cabin, you drop your bag onto the nearest armchair after closing the door, your eyes on him as you remove your coat and slip your flats off. He stands in the kitchen area with his back to you, lighting a cigarette, his coat already off and thrown onto the couch. Hanging your coat up, you then fold your arms across your chest.

"Jim, what's going on?"

He still doesn't turn to you, smoke curling over his shoulders as you hear him exhale.

"Jim, come on, you're starting to-"

"Who was that guy you were talking to?"

"What?" You blink, momentarily taken by surprise. "The guy outside the diner? He's-"

"Don't tell me, just some guy, huh?" He finally turns and you are suddenly subject to the full force of his hardened gaze.

Confusion spreads across your features.

"What? But he is, he's just a regular customer. Why?"

Hopper just shakes his head, his jaw clenching as he flicks at his cigarette, ash dropping onto the floor.

What the hell is his problem...

Then, it hits you.

Sheer, incredulous anger begins to rise within you as your arms drop to your sides.

"Why, Jim. Say it."

He remains silent, staring at you.

"Say it."

Hopper runs his tongue over his teeth as he shifts slightly.

"Are you seeing him?"

You'd asked him to say it, yet you're still not prepared for it when it comes.

"How dare you." Your voice is so low, so cold as you stare at him, trying to control the rage inside you.

"Well, a regular customer, huh? He must be coming back for some reason."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"He must be coming back for some reason, sweetheart, so why's that?"

"I don't know-"

"Oh, so, what? You're not giving him a reason? What, is he harassing you?"

"No, he just-"

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"He just talks to me, Hopper, we just talk, that's it." Your voice starts to rise as you begin to struggle to contain your anger.

"Oh, is that just it? 'cause you both looked pretty damn cosy out there to me." His voice begins to rise, too, and it just makes your blood boil with indignation.

"What the hell are you talking about, Hopper?"

"I saw you touching him! And a man doesn't look at a woman like that unless he has a damn good reason to!"

"Oh, just fuck off, Hopper. You have no ide-"

"Oh, so I'm wrong, am I? He doesn't want to fuck you, huh? And you haven't thought about it and given him reason to-"

"You know what, yeah," you snap, "When he comes in tomorrow I'll just suck his dick right there for everyone to see because that's what I want to do so fucking badly, Jim, you're absolutely right."

You've had enough. Turning, you start to head towards the bedroom, your jaw clenched tightly.

"Hey. Hey, don't walk away from me!" Hopper yells, hurling his cigarette into the sink as he strides after you.

Whirling around, you match his tone, thrusting a finger at him as he halts.

"How dare you even think I'd think of doing anything with another man. I bet you fantasise all damn day about all the women in this town you'd like to fuck. Oh, wait, you've already fucked half of them!"

Turning, you move towards the bedroom again.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

He suddenly grips your shoulder and spins you, shoving you against the wall. Your back collides with it and you exhale a short, sharp breath, your gaze locking with his. One of his hands slams against the wall beside your head as he stares down at you, breathing hard, fury raging in his eyes.

"What the fuck did you just say?" he repeats, his voice dangerously low.

He's close to you, so close. You can practically feel the anger radiating off of him, every muscle in his body tense as he stares at you with such indignation, such outrage and...

A different feeling starts to burn deep within you.

And he sees it flicker in your eyes.

"Fuck you, Hopper," you hiss quickly, your chest starting to rise and fall a little faster. "I've heard people talking. I've heard the snide comments when I'm out shopping from women I don't even know. I've heard your boys down at the station talking so yeah, forgive me for thinking you might get a little restless. Don't you dare start throwing accusations around at me, you fucking bastard, I'm not the one who can't keep it in their pants, so fu-"

His other hand suddenly moves and his thumb presses under your chin as he grips the side of your neck, making your head tip back. Your lips part as your breathing hitches at the movement, and your hand has automatically flown up to grip the front of his shirt, pressing the heel of your palm into his chest, your teeth gritting. Something thrums deep inside you, something that you don't want to submit and admit to.

He presses his lips together, breathing hard, and you know he's trying to control himself. Control what specifically, though, you're not quite sure. You stare right back at him, your eyes burning, daring him, challenging him.

His tongue runs over his lower lip as his thumb applies just a little more pressure.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to remind you of a few things."

Lowering his head, he crushes his lips to yours. The fire inside you erupts. Tightening your grip on his shirt, your knuckles nearly white, you yank his body against yours, releasing a muffled, frustrated sound against his lips.

Anger still burns within you but now... Now burning lust is entangling with it and, God, you don't want it to stop. His hand moves from beside you to grip your hip tightly, pinning you against the wall. You release a groan and he takes advantage of it, dipping his tongue into your mouth and stroking and coaxing at your own. Pushing his knee between your legs, spreading them apart, the movement forces you up on to your tiptoes to steady yourself as he pulls his lips from yours, biting and sucking down your jaw and neck.

He turns you then, pressing you flush against the wall and pinning you there with his chest against your back as you inhale sharply. His hands fall to your hips and he pulls your ass against him, making you feel his hard cock straining against his trousers. Sliding his hands around to your stomach, he moves them up and cups your breasts, his fingers squeezing as his lips press against your ear.

"You're gonna moan for me, sweetheart," he gravels, his thumbs brushing back and forth over your covered, hardening nipples. "You're gonna make all those pretty sounds that make my cock hard, and you're gonna moan my name and thank me for makin' you feel so fuckin' good."

You swallow hard as your jaw clenches, stubborn indignation rising within you as you suppress a moan, even as his words have a fresh wave of arousal dampening your pussy lips.

"Fuck you, Hopper," you hiss.

He exhales a rough laugh. "Oh, you're gonna beg me, sweetheart." His finger tips hook into the neckline of your dress and he yanks it down under your breasts. "You're gonna beg me to touch you." He grips at the shoulders of your dress, his fingers curling under your bra straps, and pulls them down to your elbows, effectively keeping your arms secured at your sides and freeing your breasts. "You're gonna beg me to let you come." Wrapping his fingers around your hip, his thumb pressing against the small of your back, his other hand cups your breast, his thumb and forefinger squeezing your nipple.

Pressing your cheek against the wall, you grit your teeth against the moan that rises in your throat as your eyes close.

"I know you liked that, sweetheart." He squeezes your nipple harder, making your teeth sink into your lower lip, before his hand drops. Running it up your thigh, he slides it under your dress to your panties, his fingers gliding over your pussy. "Oh, baby, you're so wet. Is that for me, huh?" He presses two fingers against your clit when you don't respond, making you bite harder at your lip as you exhale a sharp breath.  

"Only I get to touch you like this, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. Sliding his fingers into the waistband of your panties, he runs them along your wet slit, gathering your slickness onto his finger tips. "You only get to be this fuckin' wet for me."

Your head tips back on to his shoulder and a faint, strained groan sounds from your throat as he drags his fingers back up to your clit. You can't stop your hips from bucking when he begins to firmly circle it, and you feel him smile against your neck as your brow dips and your lips part. When you manage to stop any sound from coming out, though, he exhales a breath and lowers his head, mouthing at your skin. His fingers then move faster as he bites at your shoulder. Gritting your teeth with a small groan, you arch your back, your breasts pressing against the cold wall as your ass pushes against his clothed erection.

Grunting, his head lifts and his hands grip at your hips. Pulling you away from the wall, he turns you and pushes you into the bedroom. Before you can straighten up, the door shuts behind you and his hands are back on your hips. Pushing you towards the bed, one of his hands slides up your back and presses you down. Your arms still secured at your sides, you fall down on to your front with a soft 'oof'. Hopper allows his hand to move down to your head, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face before he traces a finger tip over your lips, a fleeting sign of tenderness.

Straightening up, he unclasps your bra before his hands grip your dress where it's been settled at your elbows and he pulls. He drops to his knees as he pulls the dress down, and once your arms are finally free you raise them, pull your bra off and grip at the bedcovers while lifting your feet one after the other so he can remove the dress completely. Tossing the dress aside, his hands then travel up the back of your legs. Your breathing is now ragged as one of his hands moves between your legs, the other settling on your ass, and his thumb runs down your slit. Your hips jerk slightly as his thumb slides over your clit, before he twists his hand and pushes his forefinger inside your wet hole, made tighter by your legs together.

Pressing your face against the mattress, you squeeze your eyes shut as the faintest of whimpers escapes you, your back curving slightly when he begins to slowly fuck his finger in and out of you. He pushes his hand against your back, making you lie flat again and raising your ass higher, before his hand drops to your ankle. Pulling at it, widening your legs, you can't help the delicious thrill of arousal that races through you at how exposed you are to him. Slipping another finger inside you, he maintains his slow pace, no doubt wanting to tease you into submitting to him. His low words confirm it.

"How does that feel, sweetheart, hm? Fuck, you feel so good... I can't wait to feel your pussy around my cock..." He smiles to himself as he watches your toes curl against the rug. "That sounds good, doesn't it, baby... Fuck..." Slowly drawing his fingers out, he leans closer and covers your slit with his mouth.

You feel your knees weaken slightly as his tongue strokes up your wetness and he groans at the taste of you.

"Jesus Christ, baby..." Wrapping his hands around your thighs to keep you in place, he licks and sucks at your pussy, firmly drawing your clit between his lips.

Fisting the bedsheets, you pull at them as quiet sounds begin to escape your throat.

"What was that? You moanin' for me, baby?"

Clenching your jaw, you inhale a slow, shaky breath to try and steady yourself.

"Fuck you, Hopper," you breathe.

Pulling back, he grips your hips and turns you over. Inhaling sharply, your eyes snap open at the movement, your lips parting. Before you can react, he moves his hands under your thighs and grabs your wrists, holds them against your stomach, lowers his head and laps hungrily at your pussy.

A sound resembling a growl leaves you as you grit your teeth and throw your head back.

"There we go, baby..." he murmurs against you, the vibration of his deep voice making your hips jerk. Sucking at your clit, he tightens his grip on you as you try to pull your hands away, wanting to cover your mouth, pull at his hair, grip at the sheets, do anything to try and ground yourself as pleasure starts to build within you.

Your chest rises and falls quickly as your hips buck against his mouth, sharp, audible breaths leaving your parted lips. Dipping his tongue into your hole, he draws it back out and sucks harshly at your clit. Unsuccessfully trying once more to pull your hands away, your heels press against his back, silently urging him on as you near the edge of your release, biting so hard at your lip.

Then he pulls away.

You whine as he gets to his feet. Opening your eyes, you stare at him as he releases your wrists.

"Got to let me hear those words, sweetheart," he gravels. Pressing one hand down on the mattress beside you, he leans over you, his other hand travelling down your stomach. Reaching your pussy, he pushes three fingers inside you.

Your mouth drops open as a strained groan rushes out of you. Unable to take your eyes off of his, your hand darts up to grip at his shirt, your lips moving slightly though no words come out.

"Come on, baby..." His hand moves from the mattress to your throat, his fingers wrapping around and squeezing.

Your eyelids fluttering, your breaths are raspier as your other hand settles on his forearm, holding on to him.

Thrusting his fingers in and out of you, his thumb presses down on your clit and you start to feel the pleasure that had begun to fade building once more. Unable to keep your eyes open any longer, you tip your head back, his hand around your throat, mercifully, stopping the loud moans that are desperate to be released.

When he feels your slick walls start to clench around his fingers, however, he then slows his pace and lifts his thumb from your clit. Groaning pitifully, your eyes open as you tighten your grip on him.

He doesn't say a word as he slowly fucks you, drawing his fingers all the way out before pushing them back in. You roll your hips up as best as you can, trying to coax him into quickening his thrusts. He doesn't relent, in fact, he moves his fingers even slower... And you can't take it anymore.

"Please, Jim..." you breathe, staring up at him through half-lidded eyes as you slide your hand down to settle it over his at your throat.

His eyes darken and you watch a corner of his mouth lift slightly, before you throw your head back with a husky cry as he suddenly, swiftly, moves his fingers, his thumb pressing down hard on your clit.

Mere moments later, you finally, finally tumble over the edge into your release, just as he relaxes his hold on your throat. The rush of oxygen that floods your lungs sends you higher in your orgasm, your eyes rolling back slightly as you close them. He continues to thrust his fingers as a cascade of moans finally fall from your lips as you writhe, prolonging your climax to the point where you have to grip his wrist to stop him, your hips jerking as you become sensitive.

You feel him pull away from you, your hands falling to your sides, as you take in slightly shuddering breaths, your eyes remaining closed. You lie there, allowing your mind to return to your body as you come down from your high, not knowing how much time passes. Wetting your dry lips, dragging your lower one between your teeth, you then hear the unmistakable sound of a belt unbuckling, and slowly open your eyes.

Hopper's removed his shirt and vest, and his gaze travels your body he unzips his trousers.

"Fuck... Look at you, baby..." he murmurs, pushing his trousers down and kicking them aside as he takes in the faint, red finger marks around your neck, the flush on your chest, your hard nipples, your glistening pussy lips. "I don't want anyone else fuckin' seein' you like this... Only I get to see you like this... I want you so bad, baby..."

Removing his boxers and tossing them aside, a dull throb starts within you as your eyes drop to his hard cock, the swollen head leaking. Returning your gaze to his, you rise up on your elbows and move backwards slowly on the bed, giving him more room, giving him permission.

"Fuck me, Jim."

He advances on you instantly. Covering your body with his, he claims your lips in a searing kiss as your hands settle either side of his neck, your finger tips twisting into his hair. Groaning against your mouth, he pulls your leg around his waist as his forearm settles above your head to support himself.

"Yeah, you want my cock, huh..." he growls against your lips, moving a hand between you to grip his erection.

"Yeah, baby, I want you to fuck me..." you breathe, rolling your hips up as you grip at his shoulder. "... Please, Jim, I need you inside me, I need-"

You're unable to finish your plea as he thrusts inside you, no longer willing to tease you. Dropping his head to the crook of your neck, he groans as he pushes his hard cock into you in one swift stroke, filling you completely. Your mouth open in a silent cry, your nails sinking into his shoulder, you're given barely any time to adjust as a few moments later he pulls his hips back and begins to fuck you, setting a hard, steady pace. He sucks and bites at your skin as you whimper against his ear before moans start to leave you with nearly every exhale.

"That's it, baby, show me how much you love this..." he growls, words tumbling from his lips. "... All wet for me, so fuckin' wet and tight, just for me... Feel every inch of my thick cock, I want you shakin' for me, baby, I want you to feel this tomorrow and remember you're mine... You're mine, baby... And I'm yours..." He trails off with a tight groan as you clench your slick walls at his words, your broken moan mingling with the sound.

He thrusts into you relentlessly hard and fast, and you can only grip tightly at his shoulders to ground yourself as your head tips back, leaving red marks on his skin.

"I'm yours..." you hear yourself murmuring, and a second later his hand is at your jaw, cupping it as the pad of his thumb brushes over your lips.

"Say it again," he commands, dragging your lower lip down for a few moments.

"I'm yours..."

"Louder."

"I'm yours..!" you cry out, just as he angles his hips and snaps them forward slightly harder, knowing just where to find the sweet spot inside you. Now hitting it repeatedly, your moans grow louder and higher as he drives you towards your second release, your back arching off the mattress.

"I know you're close, baby..." His hand is suddenly around your throat once more, harder than before, and you're unable to release your whispered curse of pure bliss. "... Come on, come for me again, baby, that's it, come on my cock, let me feel you..."

Your entire body goes taut, your lips parted, your eyes shut, as you teeter on the tip of your release. Then, as he thrusts into you, squeezes your throat, then releases it, you shatter, an overload of sensations overwhelming you. Gasping in a breath, a loud cry is then torn from your lips as pleasure surges through you, your mind going blank as your climax overpowers you. You faintly feel him stiffen before his hips jerk and he spills his release inside you, the string of short groans and curses he emits sounding far away.

It's several moments, you think, before you start to come down. Your heavy eyelids opening, you find that you're trembling a little, and one of your hands is gripping the bedsheets, the other his shoulder.

Hopper's face is pressed into the crook of your neck, a hand clutching at your hip. He doesn't move, though you can feel his heavy breaths against your skin. You swallow, your own breaths raspy, and start to feel slightly uncomfortable due to him resting on you.

Starting to shift, intending to just move out from under him or hoping he'll take the hint, not quite sure you're able to speak just yet, his hand then darts out to settle over yours on the bed.

"Don't go. Please." He says the words so quietly as his fingers lace with yours, so gently, that you feel your chest tighten.

"I'm not going, Hopper," you murmur, your voice a little rough.

You feel him relax instantaneously as he exhales a breath that he sounds like he was holding. Pushing himself up a moment later, quickly, probably having realised you were uncomfortable, he gazes down at you, his hand cupping your cheek.

"I'm so sorry, baby..." he begins, shaking his head a little. "I'm so fuckin'-"

"I know, I know..." you murmur, turning your head to press a soft kiss to his palm. "... I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean half the shit I said."

"I know, please don't apologise, sweetheart..."

Lowering his head, he captures your lips in a tender, lingering kiss as his thumb strokes along your cheekbone. Sliding your arms around his neck, you know there'll be a conversation to be had in the morning, but right now you just want to hold and be held.

"... Just half the shit you said?" he asks as he pulls his head back slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tries not to smile.

"Fuck off, Hopper..." you murmur, unable to stop your smile as you draw him closer for another kiss.

Tagged: @atari-writes, @casownsmyass, @davidkharbours, @jimhopperfanfics, @jobean12-blog, @warmbeardsandredwine, @mademoiselle-black, @scrunchinn, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @divadinag, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @deepsouth, @neganslittlebae, @ashphoenix105, @alahmorah, @daughterofthebrowncoats, @letsby, @tbkc, @kiwiphroot, @ashmely, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @unicornsandgliiitter, @lucifer-in-leather, @fearandloathing-in-missouri, @heyjudeinthesky, @sleepylunarwolf, @ambeazyyy, @countryfire2, @sithlordslut, @mondsafari, @thejealousorchard, @norcula, @yondu-gonna-do-about-it, @earinafae, @beltzboys2015-blog, @jinxiejenna.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in my future work!

[sourwolfstories]

what r some good long sterek fics pls help

Indelible Marks by billtheradish

The house never burned. The pack is strong. Derek will never need to be the alpha, and his sister is a troll. (Actually, most of his family is like that.)

Derek is an apprentice tattoo artist, and Stiles isn’t old enough to get ink of his own yet. But that doesn’t stop him from being interesting…

(This story is now out of buffer, but I will always announce when the next update will be, and am trying to keep to a regular posting schedule. Also, please be advised that this is essentially a rough draft. That doesn’t mean it’s riddled with typos, every chapter is edited, just that the overarching plot and side stories haven’t had a chance to be edited in full yet–but they will be. An edited version of this story will be posted eventually, so if the current length isn’t your cup of tea, just come back later.)

Home by TheTypewriterGirl

January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.

The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.

So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

Put Down in Words by paintedrecs

“Oh,” Stiles said, his voice coming out low and breathy, “fuck me.”

“I don’t think that’s on the syllabus, but we can check to see if there’s a spot open in any of his classes,” Scott said, grinning.

“This isn’t an actual professor, though,” Stiles insisted, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the sharp line of the man’s bearded jaw. He was laughing at something off-camera, the shot taken in three-quarters view, his coat collar casually rumpled and opened to reveal a sliver of a simple grey t-shirt. The whole thing was deliberately calculated to lend him a more accessible feel, and god help him, Stiles was falling for it.

*

When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard.

Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.

Hallowed Grounds by damnfancyscotch

Everything in Beacon Hills is the same when Stiles comes home from college.

Well, except for the fact that he’s a published author now, Scott is halfway across the world with a travelling circus, Erica’s epilepsy has been cured, her boss offers him a job too, and there’s this weird black dog that seems to be following him around just to judge him.

Oh, and the murders, of course.

But other than that stuff… totally the same old BH.

The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

Love Thy Neighbor…He’s Hot by Triangulum

Derek and Laura seriously lucked out with Stiles as their neighbor. Yeah he can be loud, but he keeps it to normal hours, and he brings them food, they have movie nights, he’s so beautiful, and okay, Derek might be pining. The only problem is, Stiles has a girlfriend. And Derek HATES her.

OR

The one where Derek and Laura live next door to Stiles, and Derek has a completely out of control crush. A Sterek as neighbors one shot AU that got wildly out of control.

The Hollow Moon by thepsychicclam

It’s the summer after Stiles’ first year of college, and he’s working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he’s okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn’t care about, nope, not at all.

After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he’s just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people.

Permanent Fixture by linksofmemories

Derek is Scott’s older brother. Stiles is Scott’s best friend. Derek is falling in love with Stiles. This is a bit of a problem.

Wild Horses by thepsychicclam

Derek’s a drifter with no home, no destination, and no will to live. Stiles works on his family’s failing cattle and horse ranch while all his friends are going off to college. When Derek falls asleep in a random barn, exhausted and half-starved, he doesn’t expect to wake up on the other end of the sheriff’s shotgun. And Stiles sure as hell doesn’t expect his dad to invite the drifter in for breakfast.

Play Crack the Sky by WeAreTheCyclones

Excerpt from “Hale Pulls the Plug on the Future of Rock,” Rolling Stone, Issue 1203 – Oct. 2014“Fans and music industry vets alike are left reeling in the wake of bassist Derek Hale’s sudden departure from Smokes for Harris. At a time when the foursome from Beacon Hills, California seems to be on the cusp of rock superstardom after just one double platinum record, Smokes has everything to lose.”

Excerpt from “Smokes for Harris: Gladiator,” SPIN.com – Feb. 2015“Smokes for Harris gives in a little to the pop punk of yesteryear in their sophomore effort, but rather than pandering to fans of a lost era they elevate the genre in a way that hasn’t been seen in quite some time. Frontman Stiles Stilinski works double duty as singer and primary songwriter and proves that he can handle the task even without former bassist Derek Hale.“

Three Marks by sanam

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off—And suddenly it was done.Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt.”

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

Windows by dr_girlfriend

Derek has a new neighbor who won’t stop looking.

Excerpt:

“You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails.

“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.”

“Fuck, I…I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered.

“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —”

“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.”

“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

Gravity’s Got Nothing on You by zosofi

“Three weeks,” Derek says.

“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.

“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…

“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.

Dating Backwards by RemainNameless

Pornstars Derek and Stiles work for the same company. Derek only shoots with werewolves and Stiles only shoots with humans. That’s not going to change after they meet. It’s really not.(It might.)

Didn’t See That Coming by knittersrevolt

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in the dust after he catches his husband cheating on him.

He finds his way to New York where he starts working for the Hale House Nursery, accidentally adopts a werewolf baby (through no fault of his own thank-you-very-much), and somehow starts training to be an Exorcist Emissary. So, in general, life was going good.

Then he hears that demons have found their way into his hometown. Can he face his inner demons and go back to save the day?

No Homo by RemainNameless

Stiles’ sophomore year starts something like this:3 FourLokos+ 1 peer-pressuring cat- 1 best bro to end all best bros= 1 Craigslist ad headline that reads “str8 dude - m4m - strictly platonic”.Derek is the fool who replies.

There’s Monsters at Home by calrissian18

“How did you get past the wards?” Derek had put them up, with Peter’s grudging assistance, after the Alpha pack had made themselves at home a few times too many.

The guy pulled a face. “You mean the wards a five-year-old girl with the mental ability of a goldfish could deconstruct?” He blinked wide eyes at Derek. “Gee, I don’t know. It’s bound to go down as one of life’s great mysteries.”

Derek despised him.

Prince Among Wolves by tylerfucklin

Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable.

Between Men and Lions by standinginanicedress

“I thought we could be friends,” Derek offers, to which Stiles gets an odd smile on his face.

“Friends,” he repeats, an odd inflection.

“Yes, friends.”

Stiles laughs, just barely. It’s more of an exhalation of breath than it is genuine mirth or anything else, and then he smiles. “I’m pretty good at friends,” he says with a tilt to his head, and Derek clears his throat and has to look away.

What’s Best For Everyone, Isn’t What’s Easy by gatergirl79

Derek is gone and Stiles is left holding the baby…well, a cheery three year old named Leah actually. While Derek searches for her mom, Stiles plays daddy. When the sour-alpha wolf returns with his ex in toe, things get strained between Stiles and Derek. Especially now that’s they’ve realized just what they mean to each other

[fanfictionconnectionwordpress]

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | Tagged - VanderwoodxOC Cerise | Ch. 2 The Long Road Begins

***It's about to get Hella intense in here, so everybody buckle up. Also, you should totally get your hands on the new Drawl Backstory available to patrons only.

Don’t forget to subscribe to the email list for access to R-Rated Scenes and my monthly newsletter. You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes. ~Let’s Connect! FFC Tagged Chapter Directory***

Why could he never get a full night’s sleep? Vanderwood had of course trained himself to be a light sleeper, so clearly that was why, but it never ceased to annoy him just how often something would wake him at night. This time it was his phone buzzing like crazy. He rolled over to grab it, expecting it to be from boss, only to unlock the screen to find a slurry of texts, screenshots of photos of him, and one with Cerise with him in the background.

His internal dialogue was Fuck. She had been taking photos after all. He’d noticed but had completely forgotten about it again, a huge mistake. The screenshots themselves weren’t the worst of it. There were comments from the unknown sender. ‘She’s got such pretty eyes, pity if I were to pour acid into them?’ ‘Look at those fingers, just begging to be bent back.’ ‘This is what you get for getting attached, Vanderhottie.’

Vanderwood felt sick, but instantly he knew who these messages were from. Drawl. (Get Drawl Backstory by becoming a patron.) He was up and getting changed in mere seconds, running out of the room to grab one of Seven’s keys, not bothering to take the time to ask. If Drawl had Cerise…he didn’t want to think about it, and he certainly didn’t have much time. The guy was a sociopath. From the information the agency had, he’d even murdered his own family just to become an agent for the rival agency. (insert Drawl hidden scene backstory) What was worse, Vanderwood had shot the guy in the shoulder and completely shattered it. Drawl wasn’t exactly known for being forgiving.

He was panicking, speeding down the highway to the address Drawl had screenshotted from Cerise’s geotags. This was all his fault, and he couldn’t let her get hurt. Cerise was just a civilian, one that wasn’t supposed to be involved in this shit at all, but look how the cookies had crumbled. She shouldn’t have been in his life for even a second.

***

Drawl smirked, this was going to be so much fun. Vanderwood deserved it too. It had taken months for Drawl’s shattered shoulder to heal. The lock was easy to pick, nothing to it. Such a nice little apartment Vanderwood’s sweetie had. The girl wasn’t hard to find, sleeping soundly in her bed.

Well, she had been sleeping soundly until Drawl pressed his hand down over her mouth and nose, watching her struggle for air for a while. All Cerise knew was that she could not breathe. She struggled against her attacker, and she so desperately wanted to scream, but couldn’t. He was feeling his pants grow tight from the image. Watching the panic, seeing the life leave a woman’s eyes was always great, oh, it was great. He disappointedly removed his hand from her face to allow her to grab some gasps of air as he pressed a knife against her side to keep her still and under his control.

Cerise wasn’t sure how long she was deprived of air, but it seemed like an eternity. As soon as the hand came off, she gasped for air, breathing heavily. Her blood ran cold, senses coming back to her once she felt the cold touch of the blade against her side. Normally she would fight, but there was nothing she could do with a knife pressed against her. She had only just started breathing again, but she was choked with fear now.

He wasn’t a weak man, far from it. Some likened him to a chimp or an orangutan because of his thick body and square features. Still, it was easier if they didn’t fight him openly, and much more fun to watch them struggle aimlessly. The fear in their eyes was always most intoxicating. It was just unfortunate that he couldn’t feel their soft skin anymore, thanks to the way his acids had burned away the sensations in his fingers. It was well worth it to have acid covered blades to cut with. That always kept them from bleeding out.

His slow and deliberate tone as he bent to mutter in the girl’s ear gave away the reason for his nickname. “Hello, sweetheart, we’re going to play a game.” That voice, even just the sound of her attacker speaking was enough to make her feel nauseous. Drawl took his time in tying her up, Cerise struggling lightly. It wouldn’t do her any good, she was too small to do any real damage to the man.

Right now, the only thing she could do was observe him, as much as even his person was repulsive. His dark black hair was a greasy mess, peppered with gray although he didn’t look old. Even his eyes were black, glinting with an intent that made her entire body feel cold. Now he was sitting on the edge of her couch, playing with the point of his knife against his thumb. Just his clothes were enough to make someone uncomfortable, an oversized puke green jacket, brown pants, and black combat boots clearly meant to make him appear taller. The man’s skin was a dark brown, but his hands were discolored as well as discolored splotches on his wrists.

Drawl’s voice broke her observation, making her whimper. “Do you think your Vanderhottie will come quickly enough to save your pretty little lips? I might just cut them off…and he’d never get to kiss them then, would he?” Who was this guy even talking about Vander…oh. The man from earlier. She started to cry and plead. “No, I really don’t know him, please. My…my parents are rich…is…is it money you want?” Now she was sobbing, her voice broken. Cerise wished that she would have just listened to her parents and stayed in France where it was safe.

He snorted at the girl. She thought money mattered. Although, he was disappointed when she said she really didn’t know Vanderwood. The one good thing was that Vanderwood was the kind of guy who would do anything to protect a civilian, so he’d still come. The revenge wouldn’t be nearly as sweet, but he could always have his way with the girl afterwards. His slow voice held a snide tone as he replied to her desperate pleas. “Money doesn’t matter to me. I have plenty. Revenge, blood, people screaming in fear, that’s what I like. Speaking of…” He took out his phone and snapped a photo, captioning it ‘Hurry.’

***

His phone was buzzing again; he was almost there. It seemed like it was taking far too long to get there, even driving as fast as he was. Vanderwood risked checking his phone and his heart was at his feet, fear like a living thing in his chest. Seeing Cerise like that…This was his fault, and he had to get there in time to keep her from getting hurt. If she’s not already. The thought had him practically pressing the accelerator to the floor.

***

This had to be a dream…These kinds of things just didn’t happen in real life. Only on TV. She was brought back to reality as her attacker approached her, pressing the cool metal of his knife against her throat, a light burning sensation accompanying it. “I think I hear our Vanderhottie friend…” Drawl’s typically slow voice was dragging out even more as his smile spread wide. Cerise didn’t dare to make a noise or even to breathe too hard, fearful for her throat and her life.

Vanderwood realized quickly as he parked that his taser would do him no good since Drawl’s weapon of choice was also close range. He reached under the driver’s seat to grab the emergency gun stashed there. Thankfully, there was on in each of Seven’s cars as well as the ones he had on his own body. As soon as he had the weapon, Vanderwood nearly jumped out of the vehicle, kicking her door open, allowing him to keep use of his weapon, quickly scanning the room to point it at Drawl. Cerise desperately wanted to feel relieved as soon as she saw the source of the crashing, but there was still a knife to her throat, making her panic.

That knife against her throat had Vanderwood panicking every bit as much as she was. It was an unfamiliar feeling to him, true panic. He hadn’t felt fear like that in years. It nearly had him doing something rash, but he couldn’t afford to have feelings right now. “Leave her the fuck alone. She’s got nothing to do with me or you.” He was angry, pissed really, wanted to beat Drawl into a bloody pulp, but he had to get his hands on the smiling bastard first. “Didn’t you hear me? Get the fuck away from her. She’s a civilian, you ass.”

Drawl still wasn’t moving. He just kept smiling more and more, watching like he liked to. Vanderwood realized that clearly this wasn’t working. The feelings swirling around inside of him had his muscles taught and tensed, and they weren’t helping his focus. He took a deep breath, shoving them away. Finally, he looped the gun around his thumb, pulling his taser out of his pocket with his other hand to drop it to the floor. “Just step away from her, and you can have me. That’s what you want. You know you can’t touch her without your agency punishing you.”

Now Drawl finally moved, pulling away from Cerise to stand and approach Vanderwood. Cerise felt like she could finally breathe again once the knife was away from her throat, but all she could do now was watch the scene in front of her unfold, unable to move. She felt so useless, she couldn’t even call the authorities. That gave her an idea. She glanced over at her nightstand. Good, her phone was still there. Her attacker was advancing towards Vanderwood as she attempted to wiggle free from the rope binding her.

“I guess you are right…as much as I’d love to scar that pretty little skin.” The man’s voice made her skin crawl as she continued to attempt to reach her phone. Drawl was approaching Vanderwood warily. He was too short to reach the gun looped around Vanderwood’s thumb, so Vanderwood had to lower it for him. Drawl pressed his blade against the lower left side of the taller man’s abdomen, letting it press in just slightly, using his blade again for some leverage. Cerise had looked over from her attempts just in time to see it, causing her to gasp in surprise. Still, Vanderwood seemed to be taking it well enough.

The only reaction Vanderwood gave was a sharp intake of breath as the blade pierced him, acid burning and instantly cauterizing the wound. He knew what he needed to do. Although Vanderwood wasn’t fast, Drawl was even slower, and he was able to grab the man’s wrist, letting the blade press in even farther in favor of grabbing Drawl’s throat, squeezing his wrist until Drawl couldn’t hold on to the knife anymore. It clattered to the floor as Vanderwood applied the same treatment to his neck. Cerise had never seen anything like this, and she watched as he gained the upper hand over her attacker. She wanted to look away, she really did, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the scene. Then the man went limp in Vanderwood’s grasp. Was he dead?

Vanderwood grimaced at Drawl as he dropped him onto the ground. The creep’s smile hadn’t faltered the entire time. He didn’t have much time now, knowing that Drawl had a partner. How had he even been alone here in the first place? It didn’t matter; time was of the essence. Vanderwood moved to untie Cerise, and that was what finally made her able to tear her eyes away from the scene, jumping a little at his voice, even though it was far more welcome than the voice of the other man. “I’m not going to hurt you, alright? But you’re going to have to trust me, because I need to get you out of here.” He was trying to keep his tone as calm and even as possible, even though he was irritated and panicked beyond belief. She wasn’t used to these kinds of experiences, so he had to be gentle. “If Drawl was here, backup isn’t far behind, so we need to leave fast.” Cerise nodded, her voice still shaky. “O-okay…” As soon as she was free from the ropes, she made a grab for her phone, yanking the charger out of the wall.

Irritation was very much his enemy at the moment as he snorted at that damn phone of hers. He was going to have to take it from her later, but now he needed to get them out of there. “The black car outside, get in.” His tone was brusque because it had to be. Drawl needed to be dealt with permanently, and it was always his disgusting job to take care of that. Vanderwood grabbed the gun and taser before returning to look down at Drawl’s limp body.

She did as she was told, not wanting to stick around and tempt fate. Cerise shivered as she felt the nighttime winter air hit her skin, making her way to the black car and quickly hopping in. Her bare feet felt like ice cubes. Was she really going to let this stranger take her away from her apartment? He had just saved her life, even if it sounded like he’d been somewhat the reason she was in trouble anyway, but she trusted him. She had to…and there was just something about him that she couldn’t quite shake.

Vanderwood was bending down to finish the job when he heard it, the sound of another vehicle’s brakes grinding the car to a halt. Damn it. He was out of time. Vanderwood ran out of the house to see Jessica on the way out of her car. He flipped her off before hopping into his, putting pedal to the metal. “Hang on, Cerise.” There wasn’t even time to put his seatbelt on before they were peeling off away from the scene.

Cerise held on to the ceiling handle tightly as soon as he’d gotten into the car, although she hadn’t managed to put her seatbelt on either. He was driving like a bat out of Hell, but she couldn’t really complain. She just wanted away from the man that had attacked her, silently staring out of the window and trying to make sense of everything in her head.

He was focused on getting away and to Seven’s garage, running through an action plan as he went. They would need to switch cars and head out of town to lie low somewhere. She was in far more danger than any civilian ever should be, and there was a lot of guilt there, but he didn’t have time for it right now. Thankfully, his go bag was already in the red car, so they could switch over pretty quickly. His eyes searched the rearview mirror to see that no one was tailing them, allowing him to slow down and drive far more legally.

She was quiet, reflective even, as he watched her from the corner of his eyes. This was probably the biggest shock of her life, and he had done this to her. Cerise was thinking, why her? What luck was this? Her phone made her jump when she felt it vibrate in her lap. Vanderwood watched as she put in her pass code and immersed herself in the world of what he assumed was social media. Her fingers were tapping at her phone’s screen at an alarming speed. She was clearly freaked out, it was only too obvious. On one side, he wanted to destroy her phone since it and his stupidity had gotten them into this mess, but on the other, it seemed to be helping her, somewhat of an escape, which he only understood all too well.

He sighed and bit his tongue before he began to speak, feeling like the words needed to be said, like he was compelled to comfort her. “I’m sorry…I got you into this. But I’ll keep you safe, I swear to God, I will.” He felt like complete shit for doing this to her, and although he didn’t trust any God, he would swear to all of them just to make the point to her that he was going to protect her. She was under his protection now, even though she shouldn’t have had to be.

Cerise looked up when Vanderwood spoke, not really knowing how to respond. Keep her safe? Were there more of those creeps…? “Are they…will they just leave you…us alone?” He had to shake his head at her question, as much as he wished he could just drop her off back at home and she would be fine, it simply wasn’t the case. “We’re going to have to go on the run until I can backtrack them or they find us, and I terminate them. Undoubtedly, Drawl’s got a hit out on me now…the guy that attacked you. I didn’t have time to take care of him before his partner showed up.”

Take care of him? So, the guy wasn’t dead, but Vanderwood had intended to kill him. The thought made her shiver more than the cool air did. Vanderwood thought that all of that was probably terrifying enough to listen to, and he didn’t want her to be afraid of him, but it felt wrong not to be honest. She had her eyes trained on him, listening intently as he talked. “I’m a secret agent. They’re from a rival agency. They found pictures of you and me on the internet and used the geotags to find you. So…until they’re dead, I’m going to take care of you.” It wasn’t up for debate, not that he thought she was going to argue.

Vanderwood pulled into Seven’s garage. It only made sense that Cerise was terrified, and he was going to need to be a little gentler than his usual to make her able to trust him, so he did his best not to sound gruff, as much as he was tense and frustrated. “Stay in this car until I say to move, alright?”

Cerise couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt as she thought over what he’d said, staying in the car as he’d instructed and fiddling with her phone to pass the time. The pictures…this was her fault. It’s not like she knew that he was a secret agent, though, that wasn’t something that came up in real life…being tied up by a psycho, running into secret agents. Did that mean…she had to be on the run for a while? With him? In any normal circumstance, she’d be all for a road trip…and with a cute guy, no less. This wasn’t that situation, though.

He tried not to take too long as he went inside to exchange keys, grabbing the ones for the red car. Vanderwood harshly woke Seven and explained the situation, getting the kid to begrudgingly agree to loan him the red car mostly because they didn’t have much time to figure out anything else. Then Vanderwood returned to the garage, opening the door for her. “Alright, we’re moving to the red car.” He offered his hand to help her out. It was hurting him so badly that this was happening. She was just a normal person; she wasn’t a part of this, and he’d made her a part of it.  

She hesitated before taking his hand, letting him help her out of the car. As soon as her bare feet hit the cold concrete she remembered again that she hadn’t grabbed shoes…or clothes for that matter. Clutching her phone, she looked down. Yep. Still in her pajamas. In the wintertime. Good job, Cerise! She wanted to slap herself for not thinking to at least grab her coat by the door.

Vanderwood finally took stock of her clothes when he saw her react to the cold concrete floor and heat instantly went up into his face. She wasn’t even his ‘type’ and yet his heart was doing gymnastics as he looked at her. Her ‘pajamas’ were just a pink flowy tank top and shorts combination, the top not quite fully covering her midriff. His face turned bright red as he took off his jacket and draped It over her shoulders gently. “Wear this until the car heats up…” The red-faced agent opened the passenger side of the red vehicle for her. “I’ll get you some new clothes to wear once we get to the next town.” He’d also need to take care of her damn phone, sooner rather than later.

His jacket was huge on her, as well as heavy. It might as well have been a blanket, but she was grateful for it either way. She wrapped it around herself as she got into the other car. “Thanks.” The promise of new clothes was another thing she was grateful for. Cerise definitely didn’t want to be seen in public with just her pajamas on…even if she did look amazingly cute in them. Still not something she should be seen in public in.

Once he’d helped her into the car, Vanderwood got in and started it up, letting it get going on warming up. They didn’t have a lot of time before he was certain the rival agency would have people watching traffic cam footage and potentially trailing them, but the geotags on her social media needed to be turned off before she had the chance to post again. She needed a new ip address too. “I need you to hand me your phone.” Vanderwood was gentle and matter of fact about it as he held out his hand expectantly.

“My phone…?” She stared at him blankly. He wanted her phone? That wasn’t going to happen. Her phone was a part of her, and she wasn’t about to hand it over to someone she barely knew. “You mean this?” Cerise kept eye contact with him as she pulled her phone into his eyesight, letting him get a good look at it before defiantly shoving the phone into her shorts, beneath the strap of her panties. If he wanted her phone, he was going to have to work for it.

Holy Jesus his face was red, and he felt like a complete mess. There was no way he could put his hand down her shorts. Hell, he wasn’t even sure with as irritated as he was that he could control himself right now. That defiance was…sexy…coming from this cute little lady, and he had to shut down his brain. Vanderwood coughed softly, shaking his head to clear it of any dirty thoughts before he could explain, trying to reason with her. “I need to give you a new one, and in order to move all your information to the new one, I’m going to need the old one. Need to turn off your geotags too. So, you give me the phone, or they find us. Every second we wait, the more danger we’re in.” Hopefully that would be enough to get through to her on some level.

“I don’t want a new one. Find another way.” Cerise huffed and turned her head away from him, crossing her arms. She knew that judging by how red he had turned, he wasn’t about to reach into her shorts to grab her phone. If he was that serious about it, he would find another way around it, because there was no way in Hell she was giving anyone her phone. She may be in danger, but her phone was her life.  

Vanderwood internally groaned. Cerise was going to test his patience during this whole situation, he had a feeling. She looked cute, but she was definitely a lot more than that. “And I don’t want to die.” He had to think fast on how he could get her to agree willingly. Her phone seemed pretty new, but hadn’t a new model just come out? He seemed to remember Seven going on about the new capabilities of some smart phone. “How about, I buy you any model phone you want, with whatever accessories?” That would probably peak her interest.

He was right. That caught her attention, and she whipped her head back to him. “…any model?” If he really meant that…she was going to go for the newer model of her phone that had just come out a few days prior. Cerise wasn’t able to get it due to budgeting, and she wanted to show her parents that she could be responsible with her money. Well…not that she’d have to worry about that now since her purse was still at her apartment. She pulled her phone back out and handed it to him, lingering for a moment before she left her most prized possession with a total stranger. This must be what mothers feel like when they leave their child in a daycare…”You win…but you better make good on that promise.” She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms again as though making a point.

That whole time he’d had to sit patiently and wait for her to deliberate while her phone was right there for the taking. It wasn’t like him to be bashful with women, and he was anxious to get moving, but he just couldn’t do that with her. He rationalized to himself that it was because he knew he needed her trust. Finally, she handed it over. “I will, right after we get you some different clothes, we’ll get you a phone.”

As soon as he took her phone from her, his face grew red again. Even through his leather gloves, he could feel that her phone was warm from having been in her shorts. He coughed softly and got to work, grabbing a throw away from the glove compartment, easy enough to do when one’s arms were as long as his were. She was short enough that opening the compartment didn’t threaten her knees too, thankfully. After hooking the phones up to each other, he transferred everything before going through her apps, turning all of the geotags off. She had a shit ton of them, it was insane. Then he handed the throw away phone to her. “You can use this until we can get your new one. This one…” He wiggled her old phone. “Is getting thrown out the window on the way out of town. Buckle up.”

Cerise grimaced at the plain phone he had given her. It was so…ugly and undecorated. “This isn’t cute at all…” She complained as she held it at arm’s length, examining it. When he mentioned throwing her phone out of the window, she winced, but it was for the better if she wanted a brand-new phone. Cerise would just have to deal with it, not think about it. She could do this. She could. Cerise buckled her seat belt and waited for them to leave. The car was getting warmer, which she was thankful for, and his jacket certainly helped.

Vanderwood mumbled what was meant to be an internal thought, thankful that it was hopefully quiet enough that she didn’t overhear. “Nowhere near as cute as you.” What the Hell was he doing flirting with her? He pulled out of Seven’s garage, heading on the way out of town. As he drove, he watched her out of the corner of his eyes. Cerise frowned at his mumbling. If he had something to say, he should say it, but she didn’t bother to say what she was thinking either, too worn out to care.

After a little while, Vanderwood deigned to speak, not sure why he wanted to. Small talk wasn’t exactly something he was very good at or used to. “I’m sorry if the jacket smells.” He’d been smoking so long that he was used to his own smell, but she probably wasn’t. Although he was very careful to keep his jacket clean and cared for, it probably had at least some residual scent of cigarettes. Cerise just shook her head before resting it against the window. “It’s not bad…” Her answer ended with a yawn. His jacket did smell a little like cigarette smoke, but she could tell that he took care of it.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, him watching her and her too tired to even check the phone or any of her social medias. Vanderwood was thinking just how incredibly beautiful she was…and how incredibly stupid it was for him to be thinking about that. This was going to be difficult for him. She made him feel way different than any other woman, and that might not bode well for staying unattached, even if he was convinced that it was just part of his sex addiction not having been assuaged for a while. At any rate, his job wouldn’t allow attachment, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten her in enough trouble already, so Vanderwood was going to do his best to have as little contact with her as he could manage. Just enough to keep her safe. He also couldn’t report that he was with her at all. No, he was alone.

Cerise was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and this man went through all of that to rescue her, so she had no reason to believe he was of any threat, allowing her to relax for the time being. By now the car was toasty, and she pulled her legs up in the seat so she could cover herself completely in his jacket before she let sleep finally claim her.

She looked so small and peaceful sleeping curled up like that. He felt a strange tightness in his chest looking at her wrapped up in his jacket. Vanderwood realized that he should focus on the road, essentially giving himself tunnel vision other than checking the rearview mirrors for anyone potentially tailing them. Once they were about halfway to the next town, he tossed her phone out of the window and onto the side of the road. It wouldn’t be terribly long before they made it to the next town, but it felt like he had a long road ahead of him, at least figuratively.

Like this? Want more? Become a Patron ~Let’s Connect! FFC

Tagged Chapter Directory

[ernmark]

Would you expand a little on the Nureyev-is-a-dragon AU? That one was super cool

Oh, thank god.

I wrote that fic mostly for my own entertainment, and I didn’t hold out much hope that anyone else would get much out of it. I’m absolutely thrilled you actually enjoyed it. :)

Juno stands firm beside Peter while the would-be-client’s footsteps have gone silent in the hall. Then he rounds on his partner.

“What do you mean, you’re a dragon?”He doesn’t want the client to hear, so he keeps his shriek down to merely ear-splitting levels. “Were you ever actually planning on telling me? Ever?”

And damn him, Peter seems clueless. “I thought you knew.”

“What, the way you knew that woman was a dragon? I have no idea how the hell you two did that, but I fucking can’t!”

“And of course you can’t; your nose isn’t nearly as developed as mine, love, but you shouldn’t need to.”

No. Absolutely not. Peter is not going to let this just slide off him like it doesn’t matter. “Don’t you ‘love’ at me–”

“Juno, you’ve been inside my head. You’ve gone through my memories. Do you really mean to tell me that you missed a detail like that?” 

And just like that, Juno’s fury is extinguished. Because he did. He absolutely did. 

“I still wish you would’ve told me,” he mutters petulantly, though right now he’s mostly just mad at himself. Really, how did he miss it?

Oddly enough, that’s what Peter reacts to– not the initial outburst of fury, but the grumpy discomfort afterward.

“Juno,” he says softly. “This won’t be a problem for you, will it?”

“I don’t know,” Juno admits. “Will it?” He doesn’t know the first thing about dragons. He’s heard of them, sure, but most of the time he assumed they were just metaphors or weirdos who got in too deep with gene splicing. What he just witnessed with Peter, though, was something else entirely. “How does any of this even work?”

“It works the same way it has since the beginning.” Peter steps forward and wraps his arms around Juno. “I told you, I thought you knew. Nothing else has changed.”

Okay, so maybe ‘nothing’ was a bit optimistic.

Because things have changed.

For one, Juno suddenly understands the little things that always seemed so weird before. The way some people might be perfectly civil on the phone and then turn hostile and cold the moment he’s in the same room as them, even before he has the chance to piss them off on his own. And every time, they’re the kinds of people whose shoes cost more than Juno’s entire apartment building. And every time he comes home from meeting with people like that, Peter’s all over him, dominating and possessive in a way that Juno won’t deny he loves.

It always seemed to come out of the blue before. But suddenly it makes sense.

“That… uh… the woman.” Juno can’t remember her name. As thoroughly as Peter just fucked him, it’s a miracle that Juno still remembers how to talk, but he knows Peter will understand who he’s talking about. “She wasn’t human, was she?” 

Peter’s applying ointment to the places where his love bites broke skin. He doesn’t pause in his ministrations. “Of course she wasn’t.” 

“You two know each other?” 

That draws a chuckle out of him. “No, I’m afraid all dragons don’t know each other.”

“But she seemed to know you,” Juno says. “Or that I know you, anyway.” 

“Smelled me on you, more likely.” There’s no hiding the satisfaction in his voice when he says that. “The same way I smelled her on you when you came back.”

“What?” Juno sits up. “How? I didn’t even shake her hand–”

“I don’t doubt you, love.” Peter chuckles again and kisses one of the bites in Juno’s thigh. “It doesn’t take much to pick up a scent. But no need to worry– there’s not a trace of her left on you. I’ve made sure of that.” 

Juno makes a mental note: dragons are territorial fuckers. In every sense of the word.

Not all other dragons are immediately hostile, though– worse, some of them get flirty.

More than a few of them point out his patched coat, his worn-out shoes, his glass eye. 

“Not much money in being a private eye, I imagine,” muses a tall woman in a cocktail dress while he’s trying to grill her about recent allegations of embezzlement. “A pity you don’t have anyone to assist you with that.” 

“You’re free to help out sometime,” Juno says, “but you might want to change your footwear first. Never heard of a gumshoe in stilettos.” 

She laughs. “Oh, yours helps you solve cases? That’s adorable.”  

Yours.

That’s how they always seem to refer to Peter.

“That awful Kay woman seems to have spread the word,” Peter sighs when Juno tells him about it. “I suppose it’ll help prevent another awkward incident.”

“And that’s not going to be a problem?” Juno asks. “Are they going to be able to identify you?”

“The humans won’t, most likely,” Peter says carelessly. “The dragons won’t care. Whose you are isn’t nearly as important as the fact that you’re already spoken for.”

Juno’s not entirely sure how he feels about that. If he wanted half the city to know his relationship status, he would wear a ring. It gets weird, though, when a member of the Triad comes up to his office with a formal invitation.

“If you ever find yourself in need of better care,” he says pointedly, “Know that Shenlong is always generous to those in his employ.” 

Juno’s about to give him a piece of his mind when Peter storms from the back of the office, looking like he’s ready to hurl the mobster through the window. The mobster flees, which is probably the only reason he’s still alive. 

“You okay?” Juno asks.

“Fine,” Peter hisses through sharp teeth. “Just fine.”

“You sure about that?” He doesn’t look fine. Peter’s eyes are slitted and sharp; there are claws where his fingernails used to be. “You mind explaining what that was back there, then?” 

“I knew the man who ran the Triad was a bastard, but that was low,” Peter grumbles. “He was trying to steal you for himself. He seems to think you can do better than me.” 

For all his agitation, Juno can hear a note of genuine hurt in his voice.

“That’s not gonna happen,” he tells Peter, sidling up close. He twines their hands, and immediately the claws start to recede. “I’ve got a strict policy about dating people who’ve tried to have me killed.”

Juno’s not exactly unfamiliar with snide comments about his bruises, his patched clothes, his shitty car. They never bothered him all that much before. Being a functional dumpster fire of a human being was practically a point of pride for him, almost as much as being a Private Eye. 

But when other dragons are looking at him, that’s not what they’re seeing. To them, he’s not just a human disaster, he’s Peter’s human disaster. And as far as they care, the only reason he’s so messed up is because Peter’s neglecting him or something.

That pisses him off. 

So he starts cleaning himself up, just to spite those judgmental assholes. He doesn’t exactly go out for a whole three-piece suit-- maybe Peter can feel comfortable in that kind of getup, but Juno sure can’t-- but he starts throwing out clothes when they stop being presentable. His beat-up old trench coat is replaced by a newer model that’s sleek, expensive, and cut for timeless fashion. He lets Peter buy him jewelry. He even starts applying makeup again, and he can’t even remember the last time he’s been willing to do that.

More and more often, he finds himself preening in front of the mirror. Sure, maybe it’s all done out of spite, but damn if he doesn’t look sharp.