#ALSO WHY IS HE FIST UNDER CHIN LOOKIN AT ME LIKE THAT

[mikecardenmpreg]

william singing the lyrics mike incorrectly wrote for me

[madaboutmunson]

Again - Part 23

Part 1 | Part 22 | Part 24 | Full list of Again series links inc AO3 Link

Steddie fic where Steve and Eddie are in their mid 30's and everyone has sort of drifted apart

Taglist: @adaed5 @grtwdsmwhr @swimmingbirdrunningrock @mightbeasleep, @jewellthebooknerd, @fentiibratzz @rvllybllply2014

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When Steve opens his eyes the next morning, the first thing that happens is he smiles. Hugely. Something only yesterday he thought might be impossible to do again. He feels a weight and heat all over him from the extra blanket made of Eddie. 

Where they fell asleep neatly tucked up together, Eddie's head on his chest, his one arm holding him close, and their legs slightly intertwined, has now morphed into Eddie's and his limbs splayed over him like a starfish. His head is still at the centre of Steve’s chest, but face down, both sets of their hands are clasped together, their fingers have woven between one another's, and the muffled noises and intermittent moisture on his skin let him know Eddie is still asleep. Steve puts the softest, lightest kiss he can on the curl nearest his face.

Eddie jolts, his body tenses, and his hands squeeze Steve's as he gasps awake, looks around a few times and then realises where he is and calms. Sometimes Steve forgets Eddie also can be a very light sleeper. He rests his chin on Steve's thatch of chest hair and gazes up at him with barely open eyes, "Did I die again? Cus I'm lookin’ at an angel" he smiles sleepily, and Steve rolls his eyes but grins back at his stupid pick up line.

"You're already sharing a bed with me. You don't need to use your cheesy lines on me anymore." Steve says adoringly.

"Uh, yeah, actually I do, because the magic is in the cheese, Steve and you threw yourself across a table of tacos at me. I didn't get a chance to use that many, if any! So you're in for a lifetime of them. Mmm, cheese. Are you hungry? I'm hungry." Eddie says, smacking his lips together. He quickly wiggles up Steve, plants a peck on his lips, then violently throws back the covers and rolls off the bed to the floor with a thud.

"Urgh, your bed is wider than mine and much," Eddie groans in pain, "higher up. Three rolls." Eddie mutters as he gets to his feet, paces towards the window, and throws it open, "WAYNE!!" he bellows, half hanging out the window, "WHAT YOU MAKIN' DOWN THERE?"

"Nothin' for you, you dirty stop out," Steve hears a far away Wayne call up.

"AWW, COME ON, MAN. I CAN ALREADY SMELL THE BACON. YOU GOT PANCAKES? WAIT, HAS MORGAN MADE PASTRIES?" Eddie shouts back, suddenly wide awake. 

"Young Miss Maxine tol' me, you eat with us, or you eat with your husband. You can't have both, Eddie!" Wayne calls back.

"That little tyrant!" Eddie seethes under his breath, screwing up his fists and nose, "FINE!" Eddie says, closing the window angrily. That's when Steve catches a glimpse of it, and it turns his stomach, the dark purple bruising on his neck, the edges melting into a green-yellow. A putrid reminder of what he'd done.

"Eddie," Steve says sympathetically, "Why don't you go eat with your Uncle and Morgan. It's fine. I've eaten breakfast with Robin and Max the last few days." Steve doesn't know if he does this out of kindness, self-preservation, or maybe a mixture of the two, but it definitely isn't what he truly wants. He didn't want to be apart from Eddie.

"No way. Uh-huh. No way. I know what they're doing. He's trying to tempt me out there, knowing full well you have to eat whatever cardboard you're being forced to eat." Eddie tries to look as serious as he can in his Batman boxer briefs whilst putting his hands on his hips, "Steve. I love you, but you gotta get on board with spotting your loved ones' sneaky ways, ok? What they are trying to do, Steve, is have little private conversations with us before we get a chance to talk about things together. I can feel the scheming!" He throws himself dramatically back down on the bed.

"Maybe it's not such a bad idea. Having a little pep talk beforehand reminds us to stay on point, avoid getting distracted, and keep brushing it under the rug, honey." Steve says, turning his head to him.

 "I know, babe, and we will. We absolutely will. But right now should also be our reunited breakfast. We love breakfast! I don't wanna eat without you. That's just stupid. How are we gonna do that cute thing round the table you do if I'm at a different table, huh? I know it wouldn't bother you if we ate different things, and they know that too. It's just an excuse. They aren't as smart as they think they are, you know…and yet you're right, it wouldn't hurt to have a briefing beforehand, I guess" Eddie flops his arms down to his sides on the bed with a thud.

"You think it's cute, do you?" Steve says, lowering his voice, flirtatiously coaxing Eddie's face towards his own. A flash of surprise fills Eddie's face before he flutters his eyelashes and giggles.

"Oh yeah, the cutest." He answers, rolling back on top of Steve.

"Cuter than this?" Steve asks, kissing the tip of Eddie's nose.

"Oh, much cuter than that," Eddie grins.

"What about this?" Steve kisses Eddie's cheek with an audible mwah sound.

"Hmmm, still a little cuter than that," Eddie says, running his hand through Steve's hair, looking at him lovingly.

"And this?" Steve asks, holding Eddie's face in both hands and kissing him softly.

Eddie doesn't answer. He just kisses back.

"Wakey, wakey, time for your oatmeal shakey," Max calls out happily before there is a scream from Robin.

"What, Robin? What's going on? Is Steve ok?" Max's voice sounds panicked, "What the hell are you doing?? Why on earth are you covering my eyes?" Max complains.

Steve kisses Eddie one more time, and they both turn to look in his bedroom doorway. Max is holding a tray with a now upturned oat shake on it, whilst Robin has a hand over Max's eyes and her own. Beans runs past them both and pounces on Eddie, sending him flying off the bed again with an oof, then a string of giggles and baby talk.

"Sorry, we thought Eddie had already gone downstairs. We heard him privately conversing with Wayne." Robin stumbles over her words a little.

"Oh, gross! Please tell me they're dressed, at least." Max's face contorts in disgust.

"Yeah…yeah, absolutely totally dressed, just kissing, that's all." Robin tries.

"Oh my god, you are the worst liar. You know that." Max complains.

Eddie's head appears from the side of the bed, mischief written all over it. Beans' head pops up next to his with her tongue hanging out.

"Oh ladies, I'm so sorry, we weren't expecting guests. Let me just find my underwear. I know Steve tore it off and threw it over here somewhere." Eddie says thoughtfully as Steve hides behind a pillow, only his eyes peering over the top, one to hide his laughter, two so he might be safe from Storm Maxine if he set her off.

Max turns, passes the oat-filled tray to Robin, and rounds on Eddie, "You better be joking, Edward Munson. Otherwise, I will accept this as a declaration of war; believe me, I am not an opponent to be trifled with. I will win."

Eddie blows a raspberry, "You can't defeat me. You don't have the leverage."

Max walks forward, hands on her hips, and she leans forward to Eddie's space and says quietly, "Oh no? Wanna test that, do you? Hmmm." Eddie looks defiant. 

"It doesn't say anything in those leaflets about kissing, ok. That's allowed!" Eddie complains.

"You better be joking about that underwear, Eddie. Otherwise," Max folds her arms and says quietly, "I'm gonna call his kids and tell them you put him in danger."

"You wouldn't dare!" Eddie gasps.

"Oh, but I would. Now can we all just keep to the rules?"

"Yes, on a few conditions. We eat breakfast altogether, and you teach me how to make that oat shake abomination. I know you're trying to get us apart for pre-talk talks, but can we do those after breakfast?" Eddie requests.

"How did you-" Robin starts.

"Because you aren't as sneaky as you think you all are. Wayne grilling bacon, pancakes and Morgan making pastries? Crazy coincidence." Eddie laughs, and to Steve's surprise, Max smiles. He couldn't shake the feeling that Eddie had missed an essential element of their whole plan, and it didn't look like Max would confess.

"Deal," Max says, putting her hand out to shake, but soon thinks better of it, turns it into a wave, and walks back towards Robin, who closes the door behind them.

Eddie walks back to the bed and offers his hands for Steve to take, "Best get you ready for breakfast, big boy," Eddie grins as Steve takes his hands and allows himself to be hoisted to his feet, "What do you wanna wear?" He asks eagerly, moving towards the chest of drawers.

"Well, um, probably something smart-ish, maybe?" Steve says thoughtfully. He absolutely can dress himself, but after how happy Eddie was helping him yesterday, he doesn't resist it this morning, and also, if he's honest with himself, it's kind of sweet. 

Once he learned about Eddie via the kids, he was initially a little jealous because of how cool Dustin, Lucas and even Mike painted a picture of him. A rebel, the music he listened to had the kids foaming at the mouths to talk about it first. Eddie was into all their geeky stuff and knew more about it than they did, so he was some kind of nerd god and shredded on guitar. Steve had made peace with the fact that he couldn't and didn't want to compete on those levels. He had other things to offer them that Eddie couldn't, girl advice, style, a vehicle without its own personal weed cloud, he had fought alongside them several times, and everyone's parents liked golden boy Steve. But when the kids told him about Eddie inviting them to join Hellfire Club, when they told him about how Eddie ran distraction when anyone gave them any trouble, he sometimes took a punch to keep his club and his friends safe. He had taken them under his wing, but he was crowding Steve's wing, which was already there. That is what made Steve jealous. And the feeling, as it turned out, was very much mutual. So he knows care is something so ingrained in Eddie, just like it is in himself. 

Though they only talked about it a few times, and their childhoods were utterly different, they both suffered an absence of care and instead of repeating that cycle, they had both chosen to break it and care and protect others in abundance. Even if it was always under a thin layer of false annoyance.

So, yeah, Steve can't do many things right now to show Eddie how much he means to him, but he can give him this, and Steve emphatically knows if the tables were turned, Eddie would let him have that too. He loved him so much.

Eddie chuckles and walks towards the closet, "Ok, I see what's going on here." 

"You do?" Steve says nervously.

"Hit the shower. I'll use Corey's, and we'll reconvene in a few, ok?" Eddie instructs. 

By the time Steve is done. Eddie is already in his closet. He's rushed. His wet footprint trail has given away his hurry.

Eddie remerges with a designer black polo shirt and some black Levi 501s, holding them up for approval. 

"Could I have some colour, babe, please?" Steve asks with a soft laugh. Eddie wrinkles his nose in slight annoyance at not getting it right the first time and ventures back in. Steve calls after him, "Eddie. Why didn't you just tell her I started it?"

Eddie remerges with some more fitted black jeans and an olive green polo shirt, holds them up, and Steve nods. Eddie lays out the clothes and steals Steve's towel away so quickly in one fluid movement that it catches him by surprise, and he lets out an unexpected high-pitched noise, making Eddie laugh.

"Oh sweetheart," Eddie says, rustling in drawers to find some underwear and socks, "If I told Max it was you, and you had got in trouble with her, you might not ever flirt with me again. You're too well-behaved, honey." He kneels on the ground and helps Steve into his smalls and socks. Once on, he stands back up. "As much as I'd love to, the adjustments are, uh, all yours. I did make a deal." Eddie looks him up and down with a sweet smirk.

"Ah. No, actually. I'll have you know. I've snuck in and out of many a window. Like a ninja. Skull Rock was a make-out place I basically invented!" Steve defends as Eddie helps him into his jeans.

"Steve Harrington, I see the way you look at Max, like she's one of your own, and I know she's got you twisted around her little finger. So don't even try to pretend you're some kind of delinquent on demand. Maybe to the wider world, you could be," Eddie laughs, lifts his chin up, and Steve raises his arms so he can put the polo shirt on him. "But to all your little ones and not so little ones anymore. No chance. Zero." He smooths down the collar and kisses him lightly, "All done, handsome. It's not gonna help you, though." He says, half-smiling, picking up Steve's towel and drying his hair roughly.

"Eddie! Jesus Christ, stop doing that to your hair!" Steve wrestles the towel away from him. He takes Eddie's hand and sits him on a stool in front of his vanity dresser, "Why would you do that?" Steve looks through Eddie's hair which is starting to frizz, where he's scrubbed at it.

"You like my hair now. I always do it like this, apart from the painting day at the library and the taco date. I had a professional do it those days," he beams back at Steve in the mirror.

"I've always liked your hair, even when it was a wild and untamed thing. I just think you should be more careful with it. It didn't deserve to be treated that way." Steve says, reaching for some product, rubbing it into his hands and easing it into Eddie's curls for a while in thoughtful silence."I understand if he's mad, Eddie. He should be. I would be, wouldn't you?"

Eddie's eyes are closed as he's enjoying the hair treatment at Steve's hands, "Yeah, well, I'm a grown-up. I don't need Wayne to be mad about something you had no control over. It was an accident. We do the doctor appointments, and we do the therapy, and we fix it. End of. There isn't anything left to talk about." 

"Eddie," Steve says sadly, cleaning off his hands, "We can't just forget it."

Eddie's eyes open, and a frown appears as he looks back at Steve in the mirror, "Yes, we can, actually. We can forget it. It was a stupid mistake. A unique set of circumstances that will never happen again. I want to forget all about it. If it were up to me, we wouldn't even need these stupid talks, bringing up things we can't change. What is the point? Let's just move on and get back to the good part." Eddie says firmly.

"That's just not possible," Steve says, which must trigger something in Eddie because he is out of his seat.

"Yes, it is! It is possible! It's entirely possible to forget. You should know that, of all people." Eddie pokes him in the chest a little hard, "It's absolutely without a shadow of a doubt possible to forget whole time periods, events, places and people, Steve!" The corners of Eddie's mouth plummet downward, his hand rubs soothingly at where he poked Steve, and his eyes brim with tears, "Sorry." He says, voice breaking. 

Without missing a beat, Steve wraps him up in his arms. He realises there is so much Eddie hasn't unpacked from the last week, not just what happened between them but his own trauma being triggered and losing Jack on top of all of that.

"Honey. It's ok. I know you're eager for the good parts, me too. I just don't want us to brush things under the carpet, and end up like so many people do, tip-toeing around or tripping over all the bumps when they least expect it and clashing with one another. I don't wanna do that with you." He squeezes him tighter, and Eddie nods into his neck.

"You're right. I know you are. I just hate this. When I came home and saw Beans outside, I knew something was wrong, but instead of calling anyone. I just charged in like an idiot. I should have figured out a way to restrain you, but I was so scared. You were looking right through me. Like I wasn't me. I can't explain it; it just wasn't how you look at me, and then I tried to calm you down, but it just made everything infinitely worse, babe. If I'd just been smarter, none of this would have happened." Eddie sighs and takes a deep breath straightening up and wiping his eyes like he's determined not to actually cry.

One arm still around him, the other raises to touch his neck, and Eddie goes to move away but Steve holds him in place, earning him a concerned wide-eyed look, but not fear. Steve swallows hard moving his shaking fingers until they are centimetres from contact with the purpling bloom across Eddie's throat. He stares at it, "Does it still hurt?" Steve asks in a whisper.

"No, not really, unless I bump it or press it. I mean, the likelihood of me bumping it on anything is minimal," Eddie tries to joke, but he can feel the seriousness between them.

"May I? Gently?" Steve asks quietly as his sad eyes finally reach Eddie's, who reluctantly nods. Steve stretches his fingers out and barely touches Eddie's skin in case it hurts more than he lets on. He moves around the yellowed edge first and then across into the darkened centre. "I'm so sorry, baby," Steve mutters desperately. "I know last night you didn't want to talk about it, and I respect that, and in a way, if I'm honest, it was both a relief and the most frustrating thing in the world." He cradles the side of Eddie's neck like it's made of the finest porcelain. "Not frustrating because I want to talk about it and you forgive me, but frustrating, I want you to know how fucking sorry I am I hurt you. I never wanted to do that, honey, not ever, in any way. I love you so much. I'm so fucking sorry." Steve says remorsefully and looks back up into his eyes.

"Is there ever gonna be a sorry that's gonna be enough for you, Steve? Which one is gonna be the one where you forgive yourself because I forgave you a billion sorrys ago, even before the first one. You know you were apologising to me in your sleep? Begging me not to leave?" He takes Steve's hand away from his neck and puts it to the side of his face, "I understand, and I know you mean every single apology, babe. I just want you to know I don't need them. I believe you. I'm not leaving. I know you would never do that intentionally, not to me." Eddie looks deeply into Steve's eyes like he's trying to embed his words into Steve's mind for good. Steve can only stand there and look over him for a few seconds in silence. He only had two things on his tongue, another torrent of apologies, which Eddie said he didn't need, and the insanity Eddie was shut out of. 

So Steve opens the door to it.

"You are not stupid. I am. You told me to turn the TV off and wait. I didn't because it was drawing me in. It was spilling out of the TV, Eddie. Filling my home up with its darkness. All that tragedy, all those plumes of smoke, all the floating pieces in the air. All that destruction. All that death. It was like my brain had changed channels, and before I knew it, I was somewhere else. I couldn't see the room I was in. I was back in The Upside Down. Back in 1986, well, '83. Alone this time. Outside that house. Monsters everywhere. No weapons, but I had to stop him. It must have twisted your voice when you spoke, and I thought you were him. Vecna. I didn't know it was you or where I was until it was too late. As soon as I realised what was going on, I stopped." Steve confesses it all.

"Oh my god, Steve. That must have been terrifying." Eddie says, concern swimming in his eyes as his hands reach up to his face and thumb over his cheeks. Steve nods.

"I thought about it, you know. When I was outside the house. I thought about running away. But then I thought about all of you, and I couldn't turn my back, Eddie. I couldn't let all this horror get to you. I couldn't let my kids live like that in a world of fear. That's no life. So I had to stop him, you know. Even when I knew I probably wouldn't make it. I had to try." Steve can feel himself trembling and the tears falling from his eyes, but he doesn't look away from Eddie, who wipes them away for him, and though he looks devasted, Steve watches the corner of his mouth twitch up.

"You were cute. You tried to be a hero or something." Eddie forces a trembling smile, and Steve nods and crashes forward into Eddie's shoulder, "You aren't fighting anything alone anymore, understand?"Eddie rocks him gently from side to side as his one hand cradles the back of his head. "You gotta stop charging into things without me. I'm supposed to be next to you every step of the way, and so is everyone else who loves you. Look at them, Steve. Look at all of us. No one blames you. Not even Wayne. He's mad because I got hurt. That's all, but he's not an idiot. He knows you didn't premeditate that. He just wants to see for himself what he already knows. And from what you told me, he's gonna completely understand." Eddie tightens their embrace. "I love you so much. As long as I'm around, baby, you'll never, ever have to face anything alone again. Never. You're our keep, and we your knights, but deep down in you, right there," Eddie puts his fingers on the centre of Steve's chest, "That's my treasure, and if anyone or anything tries to damage or steal it. They best be ready for Ancient Dragon levels of fury and fiery vengeance. That's my hoard," he says, kissing his forehead. "Thank you for telling me all of that. That must have been fucking terrifying to do too." He sweeps a hand over Steve's hair. "And look at me. I'm still where I was before you told me. I still love you. Maybe more. Please don't shut me out anymore, Steve. Even if it's the craziest, most horrendous, most bizarre shit. It's not your fault that happens to you. We'll find a way." Eddie tilts his head and smiles sweetly, "Apparently, according to your kids, that's the way it's done in Chez Harrington." Eddie smiles lovingly at him.

Steve's eyes raise to his again in gentle adoring surprise, "They said that?"

"Sure did. In Jenny's kitchen, before we all came over," Eddie's smile grows, "Now how about we get some breakfast before it's cold and disgusting. I mean, yours started cold and disgusting, but there is hope for mine still."

After breakfast has been consumed and cleared away, Max shows Steve and Eddie how she organised his medication in a box with many labelled compartments. Eddie makes notes, listening intently to her, which distracts Steve entirely because he looks so adorable when concentrating. His little tongue poking out, eyes wide, peppering her with questions. He feels someone looking at him and lifts his eyes from Eddie to find Robin, who looks adoringly between them both, drawing a heart in the air with her fingers, and mouths "Perfect" before giving Steve two thumbs up. He wasn't after Robin's approval, but it made him so proud to have it. She always liked Eddie, but as Steve's best friend for the longest time, she had made her opinions known on some of his quirks or sometimes problematic behaviour without even knowing how Steve felt about him.

"Wow, Max. Thank you for doing all that. I have no idea how I'll ever repay you for everything you've done." Steve says gratefully.

"I don't need to be repaid. I need you to follow the instructions, and when you go to the appointments, you have an important one with your specialist later today. Make sure you know exactly what you need to do and if there are any changes." Max says kindly, “Let's just make sure Steve here gets back up to full speed and stays there.” She reaches out her hand to roughly where Steve is, and he moves his arm towards her, so she can put her arm around him for a quick squeeze, which for Max was huge.

“Max and I thought we’d go out for the day. Maybe I could describe the world’s largest ball of paint to her whilst we sample some local goodies.” Robin says, grabbing for her car keys and their jackets.

"So here's your chance, Edward. Do a good job, and I won't need to be your personal shadow tomorrow." Max smirks at him.

"The specialist is today?! Christ give me a chance," Eddie says in surprise.

"Don't worry, Max, we've got this. Go enjoy your day. Let us know if you're coming back for food later or staying over somewhere." Steve says confidently and reaches out to hold Eddie's hand.

"Will do." Max smiles and flicks out her cane to make her way around to where Robin is.

Wayne looks up from the paper, “On account of you being busy this afternoon, you got time now, Sunshine?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve says a little nervously, and immediately he feels the warm reassurance of Eddie’s hand at the small of his back, and Steve tries desperately not to look at Eddie, not like Wayne would judge him as weak for looking for support, just he didn't want Wayne to feel uncomfortable about saying what he wanted to. They both make their way to sit opposite Wayne at the kitchen table again.

It wasn’t so much that Steve was concerned with what Wayne had to say. Eddie had already explained Wayne’s eagerness to speak with him, and as a father, Steve absolutely understood that. He’d even understand if Wayne tore into him, no holds barred, or gave him a taste of his own medicine. None of that worries Steve. He’d expect that. Maybe some toxic part of him would even welcome it. It is, after all, what he felt he deserved, but the indisputable worst part of this is being a disappointment to Wayne. An adult to look up to, to aspire to be like, who had embraced Steve for everything he was and wasn’t. Showed him what real nurturing looked like, and to disappoint a man who gave him all that for no reason might be more than he can take. Steve never had to earn anything with Wayne. Not a term of affection, a hug, a smile, a compliment, a congratulations, a plate of food, not a place in his home. That was brand new to Steve.

Wayne points a finger at Eddie and then to the kitchen door, “Why don’t you go see what young Morgan is up to, huh? In light of the world events this week, he’s probably reworking one of his games, could probably do with a hand.” 

Eddie’s expression wipes. He clearly was not expecting to not be at Steve’s side for this, and his eyes bore into Wayne’s, his mouth a tight line. He doesn't look angry or worried, he looks as though he is purposely not trying to display any expression at all, but something unspoken is being communicated between them both for a few seconds. Eddie grunts gets up, and leaves the table, slamming the door behind him.

Steve looks down into his glass of water and tries to look up at Wayne, but the shame is too great, “Wayne, I-” Steve starts, but Wayne raises a finger.

“Hold your horses there, Sunny,” He speaks with a gentle gruffness that Steve has come to find as much of a comfort as he does hearing him speak his nickname, so he tries to look at him again, “I’m gonna speak plainly as one man to another. Now Eddie ain’t my kid on paper, but he is my boy and always will be in my heart. An’ I know you know that,” Steve, this time looks into Wayne’s intense but compassionate eyes, and he sees where Eddie might get that look from too. “So lemme start by addressin’ the problem here. You hurt my boy, Steve. What you did physically coulda really damaged him according to the emergency room people I made him go see,” Wayne leans across the table, his fingers steepled in front of him, “But when you didn't answer him. When he thought he’d lost you. When he was tappin’ away on his phone, or starin’ at it, or throwing it down the RV. Cryin’ when he thought we weren't lookin’ at first, but then eventually didn't care if we could. Didn’t care about much of anythin’ to tell ya the truth. You coulda killed him. He don’t bounce back like you.” Wayne looks Steve directly in the eyes, “Eddie sinks right to the very bottom, has to claw his way back out from there.” Steve can’t hold his stare. Doesn’t feel worthy after what he did. Wayne's hand reaches across the table for his. “You can’t cut him off like that, Sunny. He was so lost when he couldn't reach you. You gotta just tell him, good or bad, ok?”

Steve raises his eyes to Waynes for a split second, “I-I didn't mean to do that, sir. I just couldn't bring myself to read the messages I thought might be there,” The warmth from Wayne's hand spreads over his skin, and he notices how soft his touch is now. The comforting rough texture is almost long gone, only still present on his fingertips. He still plays regularly, Steve thinks.

“Enougha that sir business. As far as Eddie is concerned, we're as good as family already. I ain't tellin' all this to make you feel bad, but I ain't sugar coatin' it, for my boy's sake. This is who he is. He's intense. He loves ferociously. You gotta know that before getting any deeper with him. It would be kinder to cut him loose now than to give him the cold shoulder again after your next fight."

Steve panics, "No. No, I don't wanna do that. It was all just a long line of mistakes, Wayne. I swear. I only didn't turn my phone on because I thought after what I'd done it was over, and I'm pretty resilient when it comes to getting rejected, but I don't know what I would have done if I had to read or hear Eddie say he didn't love me anymore." That gives Wayne pause, "When he wasn't there when I came round. I thought he was gone for good. I was so lost." Steve feels a slight heat rise to his cheeks, "I might not show it, but I love him just as intensely. I'm just not good at expressing myself and being open sometimes. I try for my family, which includes you and Eddie." He risks a look back up from the table. Something in Wayne seems to have settled, his posture and expression relaxes, but his hand squeezes Steve's tighter.

"Then what happened?" Wayne asks plainly.

"Eddie told you everything that happened in that place, right?" Steve asks carefully.

"Yeah, after I dragged it out of him," Wayne says, slightly annoyed.

"Well, when I saw all that destruction on the TV. I knew I should turn it off. Eddie even told me as much, but I could not stop watching like it was a whirlpool dragging me in and under, and then I guess my imagination spilled into my real life, and I couldn't tell the difference." Steve shifts their hands and grips Wayne's hand tightly, "This is gonna sound crazy. I could not see Eddie in there, and though I heard his words, it wasn't his voice, and it wasn't coming from him. It was one of the things we had to fight. So I fought. I fought for our lives, but please, believe me, I had no idea I was fighting Eddie." Steve tries to be brave and looks up at Wayne again to see his reaction, was he alarmed that Eddie had chosen a madman to spend the rest of his life with? Would he put a stop to that? As a father, that made sense. You'd do everything you could to keep your kid from harm, even if they hated you for it.

Steve hears the scraping on a chair and feels Wayne's arms wrap around him. One hand pulls his head in tight to Wayne's chest. The familiar care and love from Wayne completely overwhelms him, as he realises all is not lost, and Steve erupts into sobs, his painful, deeply repressed wails burst out of him, muffled by Wayne's plaid shirt, "I'm so sorry." He repeats over and over into the material like he hopes his apologies weave between the threads for eternity.

"I got you, Sunny." He repeats in return, trying to soothe Steve, Until he returns to speaking words instead of just making noises. He holds Steve's head up between his hands and looks him right in the eye, "You aren't alone, Steve. What happened to you… Your mind was tryin' to guard itself, understand?"

Steve shakes his head with tears still streaming down his face, "Oh god, Wayne. I'm so scared I'm out of control. What if that hadn't been someone strong like Eddie. What if that had been Jenny? What if that had been one of my kids?"  Steve slumps his head down again, and Wayne picks it right back up. Steve opens up again and details what he saw, just like he had for Eddie.

"You are not outta control. Eddie told me how protective you are over 'em all, how you've been playing hero in fights that never shoulda been on your shoulders, but you had no other choice. How you look up to your grandpa and everythin' he did. How you wanna be more like him, less like your ol' man." Wayne readjusts in his seat and lowers himself a little to meet Steve's eyes, "What you saw on the TV, Sunny, was somethin' you recognised in a split second as something you couldn' protect 'em from. You got scared because you can't fight the unknown. Because you can't protect your kids from an unseen force. With all the familiar images on the TV, your mind just took you right back to it, warped it, threw you right back into battle mode." Steve focuses on Wayne's words to ground himself and realises his gripping his arms so very tightly. "So many young 'uns end up just like you, all because they were shoulderin' a burden that weren't theirs in the first place. Happened to me too. I got called up and saw some things I'll never unsee. That's why I lived alone for so long. I was lucky I got injured pretty quickly and got sent home. But I can't be around a bonfire without imaginin' my enemies, my brother's in arms, or innocents screamin' for help in it."

"What do I do, Wayne? I don't know what to do. I'm so afraid it could happen again, no matter what the doctors say." Steve actually pleads for Wayne's help. He feels the desperation within him. He was too afraid to show these fears to anyone else, but now he'd let it all out. "I don't wanna be that guy. I'm not that guy. I wanna be a Dad, I wanna be a Husband. I wanna love and be loved. I don't wanna hurt anyone. Why couldn't the universe just let me have that, huh? Just once!" Steve sighs, "I'm lucky in so many areas. I see that. I really do. But now, this new perfect, wonderful thing I had, it's got a huge imperfection, caused by me, at my clumsy, stupid hands. I had everything, and I almost lost it just like that."

"Just because it's battle-worn or broken doesn't mean it's worth less or isn't worth looking after with the same care," Wayne lifts his head up and pulls him back in for another bear hug. "In most cases, it needs more."

"Thank you. I promise I won't let you down again." Steve says into his shoulder.

"Take your meds, do your therapy, talk openly. Do those things, Sunshine, and you'll not disappoint yourself." Wayne says with a final squeeze and pats his back. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the tears from Steve's face, "Come 'ere. He'll have my guts for garters if he comes back in here and thinks I made you cry." Wayne gives him a warm smile.

"Wayne, can I ask you something?" Steve asks a little bashfully.

"O' course, shoot," Wayne says with a reassuring smile.

Steve clears his throat, "Did you know? All those years ago?"

Wayne smiles broadly, "Wasn't my place to know, Sunny. Was my place to give you both room to figure things out yourselves."

"Did he tell you why he left to go to Indi?" Steve asks.

"Eddie was always gonna leave eventually. Hawkins would never understand him. He had big dreams and had a big personality. That place couldn't hold him, so they tried to crush him, even before the murder allegations," Wayne says, clearing away his coffee cup, "He told me everything whilst he was packin'. He'd already told me how he felt about you, but he was standin' there throwing things together. I didn't say much. Just let him get it all out. I don't think he really understood himself. He just thought he'd lead you astray, put you in danger. Convinced he'd corrupted you somehow. I tried to tell him it doesn't work like that, but he wouldn't have it. I thought he'd be back in a week, but I was wrong." Wayne leans back in his chair and pockets the handkerchief, "We had so many fights about Alice, and when he started using stuff and drinking himself into oblivion, I asked him home. He refused. Didn't want to come back a failure, he said. Nearly really lost him in New York. He was hanging ‘round with some heavy users there. Something made him see sense, though. Made him come home." Wayne turns back to Steve, "I think he was just trying to fill a void with anything he could all that time, but it didn't work. Nothin' did. Not until that day at the library."

Steve smiles fondly, remembering that day.

"Be good to one another as often as you can. When you argue, make sure it's worth fighting over. Ninety per cent of the time, it never is, and you're just letting anger eat up what could have been happy memories. Be silly and stupid with him. Let him know he's loved every day." Wayne laughs, "He never looks like he needs it, but he does, feed his ego now and again too. Do that, and he'll never stray, loyal as a hound that one."

"I promise, Wayne. I'll take care of him and you if you allow it." Steve smiles and almost laughs at Wayne's shocked face, "There is plenty of room here. I've probably got enough space on the land to fix you up something static."

"Now, Sunny, that's too much-" Wayne starts to say, but Steve gently raises a finger to him.

"No, Wayne. You gave me a home when I needed one most. You welcomed me with open arms. I wanna extend that to you. Money doesn't matter to me. I'm not saying that to boast. I'm saying that so you know I wouldn't miss it, Wayne. I wouldn't miss the money it would take to make this your home too. Anyway, you want it. I know Eddie, and I would both love that." Steve says happily, "Think about it, would ya? It would be great for the kids to have a Grandpa that is still here and actually has time for them."

"I ain't no one's Grandpa," Wayne laughs.

"Not yet," Steve teases with sparkling eyes, a huge smile, and Wayne's eyes widen.

"Eddie! I think it's time for you to collect your husband now!" Wayne calls out, making Steve laugh hard.

There is the sound of running, and Eddie immediately wrenches open the door, out of breath. He looks at Wayne, then Steve and back to Wayne again before scurrying into Steve's lap and examining his face. Eddie's eyes narrow, and he turns slowly to Wayne, "You made him cry!" he frowns and pouts, stealing Wayne's handkerchief from his pocket, "Give me that!" He fans it open with a flick of his wrist, still glaring at Wayne before he eventually turns to Steve and starts drying his eyes. Wayne and Steve are desperately not trying to laugh at Eddie's theatrical display.

Hours later, on the drive back from the specialist appointment, Steve is half-sulking, and Eddie is cackling loudly. He’s trying his level best to be annoyed, but Eddie’s laugh is too infectious, and the information was actually kind of a relief.

Eddie slaps the steering wheel a few times, “Oh babe, this is your finest moment for sure!” he chuckles and wipes his eyes.

“It’s not funny! I could have died, you heard the man.” Steve emphasises.

“Oh yeah. I heard that, but that was waaaay after the other list of facts, babe. You didn't have a heart attack, which is why they didn't operate. What happened to you is rare and mostly happens to fifty-five-plus menopausal women!” Eddie smiles back, teasing him playfully.

“I’m a rare case. It’s still a valid condition. One of my heart chambers is misshapen!” Steve tries to complain, but Eddie is struggling to hold back laughter.

“Ok, ok. I’m sorry. Yes, it's very serious, ok? But, Steve, come on…you are always teasing me about being dramatic, but your body decides you are gonna have one of the most theatrical-sounding things I’ve ever heard of? Broken heart syndrome? Seriously?” Eddie shakes his head like he can barely believe it.

“Stop calling it that! It’s called Takotsubo cardiomyopathy!” Steve folds his arms. He’s actually annoyed now. Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches his hand out to Steve, and when he doesn't take it, he just starts squeezing random bits of Steve he can grab until he holds his hand.

“I’m surprised you aren’t overjoyed it wasn't an actual heart attack!” Eddie says, a little shocked, “The recovery for this could be another week, another three weeks tops. Isn’t that awesome news?” 

Steve can’t deny that was great news, but he knew Eddie would never let him live this down, so he may as well admit defeat right now, “I suppose you’re right. It could be so much worse.”

“I am right, aren’t I?” Eddie beams proudly, “I’m getting pretty good at this husband stuff.”

“Don’t push it!” Steve warns, but he side glances and secretly loves how adorable Eddie looks right now.

“Oh baby, no way. I will not push it. Not today,” he turns to Steve and gives him a huge grin, “No. Not this week, not next, but after that, sweetheart….” He starts pressing buttons on the car stereo. Steve recognises the song immediately and frowns.

Eddie taps the beat on the steering wheel, winds down all the windows, turns the music up loudly, and sings along.

Sittin' here eatin' my heart out waitin'

Waitin' for some lover to call

Dialed about a thousand numbers lately

Almost rang the phone off the wall

Lookin' for some hot stuff, baby, that evenin'

I need some hot stuff, baby, that night

I want some hot stuff, baby, that evenin'

Gotta have some hot stuff

Gotta have some love tonight

“You know what, Edward, you are going the right way for a permanent ban on all things intimate!” Steve reprimands him half-heartedly.

“Oh, Edward, is it?” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows, “That's normally reserved for when I do something exceptionally naughty, babe.” he giggles mischievously, “Like you could possibly resist all this.” Eddie gestures at himself, flexes his bicep and kisses it.

“Ok, well, this is helping me find a whole host of things to help resist you!” Steve sounds upset, but a laugh slips, “I can’t believe you aren’t taking this more seriously!”

“Baby, the only thing serious about me this evening, is gonna be the serious about of snuggling and smooching I’m gonna be lavishing you with tonight, and tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, repeat to infinity,” Eddie says dreamily, looking out on the road.”In fact…” he says as he swerves the car down a side road, making Steve grip onto the door for dear life until he pulls up at the side of the road, “I’m gonna start right now. I’ve got a broken heart to mend.” He smiles as he unbuckles his seat belt, wraps his arms around Steve and kisses him lovingly.

[lancermylove]

Unphotogenic (Oneshot)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Mammon x gn!Reader, established relationship.

Warning: N.SFW (nothing too bad)

Commissioned by: @lann-de-lei

Prompt: Hi! May I ask for a one-shot - Obey Me! Mammon x gn!reader (or fem!reader if it's more convenient for you) Scenario: I imagine MC who doesn't like their photos and doesn't like to be on photos because they are unphotogenic and they think their photos are awful (it's not about their real appearance, just about their photos). At the same time they have a lot of Mammon photos, collect his magazines, keep his photo in their wallet or in pendant. When Mammon wants to have their photos too, they are hesitated and explain him why they dislike the idea. So Mammon decides to organize a private photo shoot for them, with a professional photographer, so they could see how beautiful their photos can be. They start with photos of MC, but then want photos of them together, and in the end - couples boudoir photos. I hope it makes sense ^_^" Thank you!  

A/N: Thank you for your commission! 💕 Also, thank you so much for reblogging the previous oneshots multiple times - I can’t tell you how much that means to me. Your ideas are always so unique, and I really enjoy writing them. :3 

Word Count: 3,299

———————————————

You reached for your smartphone with trembling hands as two voices, one of the devil, and the other of the angel argued in your mind. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ said the gentle voice. 

‘No, it won’t. You know how it always turns out, so why bother,’ rebutted the dry, taunting voice. 

‘It never hurts to give it a try.’

‘Except, the end result is always a failure.’ 

Ignoring the bickering voices, you shut your eyes and inhaled sharply in an attempt to shake off your nervousness. You opened your eyes, smiled brightly into the full-length mirror in front of you, and positioned your phone’s camera to capture your reflection. Before checking the selfie, you glanced at the mirror and smiled, “Lookin’ good, but...” 

The corners of your lips dropped as you slowly brought your phone’s screen into view. Disaster. That one word summed up your appearance in the selfie; your reflection looked nothing like the image on your phone. The devilish voice was right - the end result is always a failure and will always be a failure. 

“Photogenic people are lucky,” you sighed. “Why can’t I be one of them?” 

A stinging sensation irritated your eyes, but you blinked rapidly to hold the saline liquid from spilling out and ruining your eye makeup. Thud. Thud. The sound of a fist pounding on your door made you jump and nearly squeal. 

“Why didja lock your room? What’s takin’ ya so long? We’re goin’ to be late!” 

Mammon couldn’t have come at a better time; his voice was enough to pull you out of your spiraling state and back into reality. Scowling at your loathsome selfie, you deleted it and grabbed your bag, ready to go on your date with your beloved. You drew in a deep breath, put on the biggest smile you could muster, and flung open the door. “So, how do I look?” 

He, first, looked at you from head to toe, then took the liberty of scanning the areas of your body you left exposed - your neck, collarbones, a bit of your chest, and your legs. Had your shorts been any shorter, Mammon would have canceled the date, tossed you over his shoulder, and walked right back into your room. Curling a finger under his chin, you gently tilted his face up to meet your teasing gaze. “Aren’t we getting late? You can stare all you want after dinner.” 

Red crept on his cheeks as he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “Why didja lock your room?” 

“Did you forget your brothers live in the same house as us? Would you really want them to walk in while I am changing?” You teased, knowing well what his answer would be. 

“NO! Don’t ya dare keep your door unlocked while you’re changin’. That’s only for my eyes...and I ain’t lettin’ anyone see anythin’ they’re not supposed to, especially not my lil bros.” 

“So, you’re okay with Lucifer seeing me?”

“NO! If he does, I’m goin’ to hang him from the ceilin’.” 

“Um...my dearest, you know Lucifer heard that, right?” 

Mammon squeaked and looked around frantically for his older brother, ready to apologize and give a long explanation about how he was joking. Click. Click. The sound of your phone’s camera, followed by your laughter, caught him off guard even more. “Oi! Not cool. Why’re ya takin’ my pics? Delete ‘em!” 

“Nah, you look good in them. Mammon...you always look good in all photos...,” the zealous in your voice drowned out, and your boyfriend was quick to pick up on it. 

“(Y/n)?”

Hearing the concern in his voice mixed with a pang of pain, you shook your head and forced a giggle, “It’s nothing~. You’re a model, after all, so it makes sense!”

----

It was a long night for you and Mammon, but he had no trouble waking up before you. Maybe it was the pleasant dinner, the laughs you share with him while walking back home, or the lovely time he had holding you in his embrace as the two of you shared sloppy kisses - whatever the reason, he felt happy and energized. 

The Avatar of Greed let his eyes wander down your face and blanket-covered torso until they landed on your exposed lower half. Blushing deeply, he reached down and pulled the blanket over your legs, careful not to wake you up. No matter how many times he saw you without clothes, Mammon felt like he could never get used to it. As his gaze returned to your face, a blinding sparkle near your chest caught his attention. For a moment, he stared at the metal chain around your neck, contemplating whether he should take this chance or not. 

‘It’s now or never, but...if (y/n) catches me, they ain’t goin’ to be happy. Dammit, I wanna know what they’re hidin’ from me.’ 

Deciding to test his luck, your boyfriend reached for the heart pendant connected to the thin gold chain around your neck. What were you hiding in the pendant that you kept refusing to show him every time he asked? His heart raced out of control as he nimbly parted the pendant, mentally reminding himself to not to wake you up. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but what Mammon saw inside gave him warm fuzzy feelings. One side of the pendant held a photo of him, smiling ear to ear, while the other side contained textured white paper with the words “I love you” on it. The demon couldn’t understand why you were hiding something so sweet from him, but not wanting to face your wrath first thing in the morning, he closed the heart and gently set it back onto the bedsheet. With a yawn, he sat up on the mattress and stretched his arms as wide as he could.

‘What the Devildom...?’ Mammon froze midway through his yawn and stared at the wall across the bed with his mouth open and arms still in the air. That entire wall, from top to bottom, was covered with photos, magazine cut-outs, and posters of him. Slowly standing up from the bed, not caring to get dressed, the stunned demon approached the decorated wall. Had this wall always been covered with his pictures? Mammon was aware he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings, but he definitely wasn’t that absent-minded. 

‘A photo of (y/n) in my wallet, and a wall in my room with their pics. Why didn’t I think of that?’ The thought of waking up in the morning and seeing your face, rather faces, on his bedroom wall sounded like the world’s best idea. Well, the second best idea, the first best idea being seeing your actual face first thing in the morning. His excitement was growing by the second until a sudden realization slapped him across his cheek and quickly deflated his mood. ‘I don’t have any pics of (y/n). Y’know...I don’t even have a single photo of ‘em...’ 

His thoughts were cut short by the sound of the bedsheets rustle behind him. He walked back to the bed and greeted you with a bashful smile, “Mornin’! By the way, ya let your guard down.” 

He pointed to your pendant and watched you follow his finger to the metal heart. Your struggle to figure out what he was talking about as your mind was not fully awake yet amused him. Your eyes shot open, and you clutched onto the necklace, frowning, “You weren’t supposed to see that!”

“Too late,” he shrugged. “Not fair that ya get to keep a picture of me. I want a photo of ya for my wallet, so every time I open it, I get to see your pretty face.”

His statement came off as a casual part of the conversation, but in reality, Mammon wanted to find out why he didn’t have even one photo of you. He observed every movement you made and every expression that flashed across your face. He knew it! You didn’t share your photos with him on purpose, but why? You weren’t going to tell him, were you? At least, not until he asked. “(Y/n), I ain’t got one picture of ya. No photo, no selfie, no nothin’. Why?”

“I...don’t look good in photos. No matter how many times I try to take selfies, I never look good in them!”

Mammon was not prepared to hear that reply and was confused. Had you been struggling with insecurities about your appearance? He never got that feeling, so what were you going on about? “Whatcha talkin’ about? You’re beaut-”

“No, Mammon. Please, don’t try to sugarcoat it. I don’t look good, so I don’t look good. I never look like myself in photos!” You hung your head low, not wanting him to see your inner struggles on your face, and let out a mocking chuckle, “You know...whenever I see photos of you, I feel jealous. The camera loves you so much.” 

It hurt him to see you dragging yourself down. At times like these, he would throw his arms around you and comfort you, throwing in a joke here and there, but this time around, he didn’t know how to react. Mammon knew his words wouldn’t change your mind, especially since you had made up your mind about your appearance in photos, but he was desperate to prove you wrong. No matter what it took, he was determined to show you that your beauty was radiant enough to shine in real as well as in photos. 

----

"What is takin’ ‘em so long?” Mammon mumbled while rhythmically tapping his foot on the hardwood floors. He couldn’t wait for you to see your surprise, but at the same time, he wondered if you would be okay in the studio. If only he could have brought the photographer to the House of Lamentation, but with his brothers around, an incident-less photo shoot would have been impossible. First, they would have inserted themselves into every photo, then a fight would have broken out, and the finale would have been Lucifer hanging all them from the ceiling and lecturing their ears out while you attempted to calm him down. Mammon shuddered at the thought of hearing the Avatar of Pride lecture him for hours. 

You made your made into the photo studio to find your boyfriend zoning out in the middle of the entrance hall. “Mammon, you never told me you got signed for another photoshoot.” 

“I didn’t,” he replied and took hold of your hand, “but don’t worry ‘bout the details. We need to get goin’.”

Mammon led you through the long corridor, past various color-coded doors, and stopped at a red one. Opening the door, he revealed a luxurious bedroom decorated with fine furniture suited for royalty. 

“Beautiful set, ain’t it? Remember that chair?” He pointed to a crimson high-back chair with gold trim. “It’s the same one I sat on for my cover photoshoot with Carie Mlair.” 

“Y-Yeah, I remember...but, Mammon-”

“(Y/n), that there's Luna,” he purposely interrupted you and smile at a stylish older demon. “She'll be takin’ your photos today.” 

The second you heard “your photos,” you spun on your heels to run out of the room, but your boyfriend was prepared for your reaction and blocked your path. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Mammon forced the corners of his lips up, “Look, I know you ain’t comfortable in front of the camera, but can ya give it a try?” 

You frantically shook your head, earning a sigh from him, “Hearin’ ya talkin’ bad ‘bout yourself hurt me. I want ya to see how smokin’ ya can look in photos. You might not have confidence in yourself, but I know you’ll look great. So, can ya give it a try? For me? Ya ain’t gonna let my surprise go to waste, right? I swear if ya walk away, I’ll sulk all week long.” 

“F-Fine.” 

Mammon didn’t mean to blackmail you, but he couldn’t think of any other way to get you to give in. He watched you drag your feet to the chair and awkwardly position your body to face the professional lens. “(Y/n), take a deep breath ‘n relax. Just be you and pretend you’re posin’ in front of your bedroom mirror.” 

For the next few minutes, you attempted to follow the tips Mammon threw your way, but you only grew more frustrated. Seeing you at the verge of your breaking point, your boyfriend took off his jacket, tossed it to the side, and casually made his way to you. He wrapped one arm around your waist and brought you closer to his broad chest. 

“Have I ever told ya that ya look adorable when you’re nervous?” He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead and chuckled. You slightly lifted your head to playfully glare at him. Click. The sound of the camera shutter still made you nervous but Mammon’s warmth and smile helped you calm down. 

Out of the blue, the demon spun you around and dipped you, laughing at your startled expression. Click. Your pout and light punch on his chest made him laugh harder. Click. He pinched your cheek, and in return, you pinched both of his. Click. Little by little, Mammon felt your tense muscles easing and was relieved to see him plan working. He rested his forehead against yours as the two of you closed your eyes, taking a second to enjoy the serene moment. Click. 

Mammon gradually opened his eyes and saw you staring at him with parted lips. Though he knew that look all too well, Mammon wanted you to make the first move, so without wasting any time, you lifted your head and met his soft, warm lips. Click. Even after hearing the shutter sound, you didn’t pull away, much to Mammon’s joy. One kiss turned into two, two turned into three, and this went on until both of you were gasping for air. 

The Avatar of Greed took a step back and removed his shirt, giving you enough time to ogle his muscles, but soon, your lips were once again connected, this time into a sloppy kiss. Click. Your tongues tangoed, but to your dismay, he pulled away and turned your body to face the camera. Wrapping his left arm around your bare waist, he buries his face in your neck. Click. 

For a second, you had forgotten about the camera, but now that you were face to face with it, you started tensing up again. Mammon sensed your nervousness and quickly ran his right hand up the front of your right thigh and to the zipper of your formal shorts. He tugged on the zip, revealing your black lace underwear to the camera. Click. Before you could protest about the photographer watching, Mammon slid his right hand inside your undergarment and stroked your nether region. Click. You stared half-lidded at the camera, and even though you saw Luna, hunched behind the tripod, you couldn’t stop your desires from taking control of your mind. 

Your beloved demon withdrew his right hand and spun you to face him once more. He tugged on your shorts, letting them pool around your ankle, and swiftly disposed of your collared crop top, leaving you exposed in your black, lace undergarment(s). Click. Mammon kneeled on the floor, eagerly pulled you down with him, and asked you to lie down. Complying with his request, you pressed your back on the hardwood and shivered at the contrast of the cool floor against your heated skin. 

“(Y/n),” Mammon whispered on your lips, “Look at the camera 'n show it how much ya want me. Show it how I make ya feel.” 

With those words, he trailed kisses down your neck and chest until he reached your stomach. Click. Click. He parted your legs and buried his face in between. Mammon’s request to stare at the camera seemed difficult, but as soon as you felt his warm breath between your legs, you arched your back and met the gaze of the metal cyclops’ eye. Click. 

You were shocked at how naturally you revealed your bedroom expressions to a stranger and your worst enemy, but Mammon didn’t give you time to get over the shock. He grabbed your waist with both hands, sat you up, and with an aroused voice, he asked to you remove his pants. It took Mammon everything inside him to control his urge to take you right then and there in front of Luna. Click. 

Disposing of his pants, Mammon turned to the side, giving the camera his side view, and pulled you onto his lap. Click. He held onto your hips as you threw your head back to give him space to kiss your collarbones. Click. Your dear demon gratefully accepted your invitation and showered your skin with butterfly kisses. Click. As your gaze met once again, your breaths grew more and more ragged - you had reached your limit as had Mammon.

Luna cleared her throat loud enough for the two of you to hear, hoping to bring you and Mammon back to your senses. “Shall we call it a day? Mammon, do not even think about running my beautiful set. Now, run along to the bathroom and do what you two must.”

----

The Avatar of Greed took a step back to get a better look at his masterpiece, a collage of you on the wall closest to this bed. His eyes settled on the photo in the center of the collage, the biggest and brightest picture of them all - you smiling brilliantly for the camera with confidence. “Told ya ya would look great in photos. What were ya afraid of in the first place? Why fear when Mammon the Great is here~?” 

Chuckling to himself, he grazed the fingertips of his right hand across his favorite photo of you. “You’re the light of my life, and I ain’t goin’ to let my light grow dull...not in real, not in front of the camera...not ever.”

Mammon turned his attention to the heavy album in his left hand and started looking around his room. Now, where was he supposed to hide this? An album of forbidden photos meant for his eyes only. Then again, the two of you were dating, so why did he need to hide this? Why would anyone care if he had a spicy photoshoot with his lover? 

“Ya, I ain’t gonna hide this. I got no need to hide this...not from (y/n), not from Devildom, not from my brothers.” Mammon froze in place for a second before he repeated his words, “My brothers...what could go wrong with my brothers around...” 

“MAMMOOOOON. How could you be so irresponsible as to leave such an album in plain sight? Do you see the effect it has on your younger brothers?”

Mammon slowly moved his eyes behind Lucifer to find Satan paralyzed with no expression on his face, almost like his mind was short-circuiting. Next to the fifth brother was Asmo with a crimson face, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another, “Is it just me, or did it get hot in here? I mean...very, very hot...” 

A short distance away, Levi lay on the floor, passed out in a pool of his own nosebleed. Next to the third brother, Belphie sat with his knees pressed to his chest, rocking back and forth. Between Levi and Belphie was a somewhat traumatized Beel who kept looking at his twin and passed out older brother, worried about their condition. 

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mammon vigorously shook his head and mumbled a chain of “no no no”. On the other hand, it would be better to keep the album locked up, for his sake as well as the sake of his younger brothers. 

———————————————

➣  Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2] ➣ Main Masterlist

[liquorisce]

reading between the lines (High School Years, Ch 2)

pairing: eren x mikasa (shingeki no kyojin) // mild erehisu, yumihisu

rating: t

summary: (modern au) Junior year is difficult, especially for Mikasa, because it turns out Eren’s decided to test the dating scene. 

(banter, jealousy... and lots of feelings)

part 1 | read on ao3

A/N: this chapter has been a long time coming (5 years omg), and tbh I have a lovely anon to thank, who messaged me asking for a sequel to hsy, which made me actually want to put down my scrambled headcanons on paper. if you're reading this anon, i'm truly grateful for the push you gave me. 

NOTE: although i intended a sequel, this is a COMPANION fic to chapter 1, it is meant to fill up the gaps in the story that the previous chapter didnt tell you. i hope you enjoy :)

Today was not one of Eren’s favourite days, for 2 reasons. For one, the day started off with … an encounter. Two, today they would be getting the results of their final trig assessment, which Eren knows perfectly well he didn’t have a chance of passing.

The ‘encounter’ happens pretty much without preamble.

…

i.

“… Hey, it’s Eren, right?” He turns around from his conversation with Armin, to see the same guy from a couple of weeks ago, the one who was talking about Mikasa, and her pretty hair. (he wasn’t wrong)  

“Yeah?” He does his best not to let the subconscious irritation seep into his tone.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day,” the guy with the oddly horse-shaped face says, “… My name’s Jean.”

“… Nice to meet you,” he says awkwardly delivering his dishonest words.

“… So, I wanted to be straight up with you,” Jean says, cheeks oddly pink. “About Mikasa… and you. I’ve heard some rumours, and I thought it best to address it with you directly, because I really don’t want to cause any trouble.”   Clearing his throat, he says, “Are you guys… y’know, together?”

It’s in the way Jean speaks, he thinks, or the way he talks about Mikasa (or even thinks of her?) - it makes him want to ram his fist right in the middle of his ugly face. And because he was too busy clenching his fists to actually respond, Armin says with a laugh, “… Ah, don’t worry, Mikasa is totally single.”

And then proceeds to wink at Jean.

Eren can barely believe his eyes and ears. And once Jean is out of earshot he hisses, “… what the fuck, Armin?”

Armin blinks up at him innocently. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

 “… You didn’t have to encourage him,” Eren mumbles petulantly, when he admits to himself that Armin did, in fact, say nothing wrong.

 “Erm, why not?” He sighs, “Look, I know you… worry about Mikasa,” Armin keeps his tone as neutral and veiled as possible, because worried is definitely not all Eren feels for Mikasa, “… but Jean is a good guy! And if anyone deserves attention from a good guy, it’s her.”

…

 ii.

 She finds him lurking near his locker, stuffing his crumpled papers in, probably wishing away their existence.

“That bad, huh?” She asks, hiding away her grin at his predictable reaction. Eren has always been predisposed too sulking - whether he was a 7-year-old who wasn’t the fastest on the field or 16-something and having just received his trigonometry results.

“… You look like you did just fine,” he mutters, not having to see the A+ on her paper to know that Mikasa had no problem acing the trig test (or any other test).

“You could just ask me for help, Eren. I could help you out for the retakes,” she offers softly, not for the first time.

He sighs. When he glances at her, dark eyes offering earnestly, he knows she means it without any pride or arrogance, but he isn’t able to suppress the prick of his own ego that has him mumbling, “… the mandatory remedial lessons should do just fine.”

…

iii.

When he shows up for class, he sees only a couple of others unfamiliar faces, so he curses under his breath at his own ineptitude towards mathematics for getting him in this situation and takes a spot at the back of the class.

The Support teacher - Erd, he calls himself, apparently too young to be addressed ‘Mr.’ or any of that - seems just as tired as the rest of them, sighing at the lack of answers, obviously frustrated at the complete lack of interest or gratitude of the teenagers in front of him.

So, 20 minutes into the 1-hour lesson, when the short blonde walks in, out-of-breath and apologetic, the sarcasm in his tone is biting. “You’ve already missed 1/3rd of this class, you might as well have stayed out entirely and practiced your cheer routines.”

Eren watches sympathetically at the visible cringe on Krista’s face and offers her an empathetic smile as she takes the seat next to him.

Later when they’ve been informed that the retake is just an assignment filled with proofs and average difficulty problems that they can do in pairs, he looks at Krista, the only known person in the room.

They weren’t that close, but they had quite a few mutual friends what with him playing basketball and her being part of the cheer team. So, when she says, “… see you at the library tomorrow evening?” with a pretty smile across her pretty features, he grins gratefully.

..

She doesn’t struggle with trig even half as much as he does. In fact, she seemed to be happy to do most of the work herself and explain her solutions - if he actually had the interest to understand them.

“I don’t understand,” he admits after she solves the 5th problem in a row effortlessly, “you seem to have everything down already. How come you didn’t pass the test?”

Her eyes skittered nervously away from him. “I was… sick,” she mutters. “I couldn’t really focus.”

He eyes her closely, observing the sudden change in her countenance. Usually Krista was all easy smiles, twinkle in her blue eyes. Now, she looks uneasy, unwell almost. Deciding it wasn’t his place to pry, “… Well, I guess I turned out to be the lucky one in all this,” he grins, “… I get to hang out with you and have you do my assignment.”

She rolls her eyes. To be honest, she’d enjoyed the past couple of evenings with him. Eren was easy to talk to, despite being somewhat of an airhead and being completely incapable of anything remotely math related. But regardless, he made her laugh and just about forget what happened the morning before she showed up for this test, with fresh tears choking her throat, and purpling bruises on her thighs.

“I guess you owe me then,” she quips back, smugly.

“… I definitely do,” he says smoothly, green eyes watching her in a way that makes her feel warm. “How can I make it up to you?”

Flustered, because she hadn’t expected his easy response, she mumbles, “… Dinner?” And with red cheeks hidden by her blonde bangs, she whispers, “I like pizza.”

…

iv.

She finds him at the end of the day, on one of the wooden tables outside the basketball court, chin resting in his hands, eyes glued to his laptop.

“… Hey,” she breathes, giggling when startled green eyes flash up to her, body jerking in surprise.

“Damn, you got me,” he grins, pushing his laptop away and leaning up for a brief kiss. She’s happy to return it, and she lets her fingers wind into his hair, enjoying it for a moment longer.

“Mmm,” she mumbles, “I saw you closing that browser window,” she teases, wrestling control of his laptop, “watcha lookin’ at?”

When she manages to open his browser history – much to Eren’s protest – her eyes widen. “Women’s dresses, spring collection??” She waggles her eyebrows at him.

“… It’s not for me,” he grumbles, deciding to make it painstakingly clear before Krista enthusiastically begins to tell him what dress would suit him the most – he knows his girlfriend, crossdressing would be absolutely acceptable, if not encouraged – and he watches her eyes feign disappointment.

“… Boring,” she sighs, rolling her pretty blue eyes, “I don’t see how you’re not curious about how you look in a dress,” – she gasps, hand flying over her mouth, “Wait… was that… a surprise… for me?”

“… Um,” Eren starts, intelligently, because the situation that was already awkward in his opinion, just became even more so. “Well,” he gulps, taking in the sparkle in her eyes, knowing fully well just how much she likes surprises, feeling guilty even thought he needn’t be, “itsformikasa.”

He hangs his head in apparent apology, but more so because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment flit across her features.

“… Oh.”

He chances a glance at her, and there’s no particular emotion per se, and it worries him, because she gets this faraway look in her eye sometimes, and he can’t really tell what’s going on, and they’ve only been together a few months and he’s not an expert in reading her silences –

“I see, is it for her birthday or something?” Her tone is measured, and she’s looking pointedly at the screen.

“Um… yeah.” Eren sighs, wondering what the hell was up with his own reaction. He had nothing to feel guilty about – where did that even come from anyway? – Mikasa’s his… family (or something). Shopping for her was normal. He did it every year. This isn’t something he needed to hide.

“Yeah, it’s next month,” he says, giving her a smile. There was no need for this to be awkward if he didn’t make it so. Besides, it wasn’t like he was buying her lingerie or something! (he brushed this thought aside faster than the red blush crept up his neck)

“Do you think, you could help me with it?” He blurts this out, partially in an attempt to distract the weird atmosphere, and also partially because he could really use the help.

Krista blinks. “Err, yeah. Sure.” She pulls up Mikasa’s profile on Instagram. “Let’s see,” she murmurs… Turtlenecks… Jeans… a ridiculously modest swimsuit that she wore to a pool party two years ago. The sexiest outfit on her entire profile was probably her in her tennis shorts and that had more to do with Mikasa’s undeniably ripped body than anything else.

She looks up at Eren, who’s still looking at her tentatively, green eyes unsure.

This whole thing was silly anyway, she thinks, offering him a genuine smile. He and Mikasa were close (and they lived together, which she did her best not to think about), but this wasn’t a surprise so it’s about time that it came up in some way in their relationship. In any case, she hadn’t felt any hostility from the raven-haired beauty and Eren was usually quite forthcoming about everything, so she didn’t really have anything to worry about.

“So, um, does she have a favourite colour or something?” She’s eager to kill the awkward mood and is grateful to see his shoulders visibly relax as he ponders.

“… Red, I think. Maybe, like, a darker shade. Sort of… maroon, y’know?” He thinks of the scarf he gave Mikasa when they were younger. It was a ratty, yet fluffy maroon thing which she was absolutely terrible at tying, but she wears it everywhere during the winter, even though his father had a bought her a better one at some point.

They peruse their options for a bit, and Krista picks out a deep red number, a shimmery satin one, with slinky straps and a slit that travels up an already high hemline. It wasn’t really a spring dress but more of a cocktail night outfit, and Eren is weirdly embarrassed thinking of Mikasa in it.

He eyes the screen incredulously. “… Somehow, I just can’t picture Mikasa wearing something like that.” He opens up another link, to a denim overall dress, “… now this, she would wear.”

“And that,” Krista retorts, “is why she’s still single. She has an amazing body; she should flaunt it.”

“… What would she wear it to?” Eren asks, unconvinced. (Also, what was wrong with Mikasa being single?) “… Student council meetings? Debate competitions?! I just,” –

“Parties, Eren,” she says, exasperated, “… it’s high school!”

“You know she doesn’t” –

“Drag her to some! C’mon, we’re going to be seniors soon. She’ll thank you for it!”

…

v.

Six hours later, she’s closing up her shift at her part-time job. It’s a job she’d rather keep hidden – from her friends at school and the law – because she isn’t sure what the age policy was in these kinds of establishments. It worked out because it was close enough to home, and between her and the bartender, the tips compensated the poor wages. Plus, the bartender – a slightly older girl named Ymir with a pretty fringe and a sharp tongue – was genuinely fan to hang out with. And she was surprisingly protective of the small blonde, particularly with the rougher customers, whom Ymir scared off quite effectively with her glares.

“So,” she says, as she scrubs the counter clean, “… I helped my boyfriend buy a dress today.”  

She doesn’t turn back to see her, but she can hear Ymir’s raised eyebrows as she says, cheekily, “… I didn’t realize you guys were into that stuff.”

Snorting, she replies, “Well that would be interesting. But no, it was for his, um, friend. Or something.” Or something, because sometimes Eren refers to Mikasa as his best friend, sometimes his family, and sometimes it just felt like… something else, basically.

She turns around to look at Ymir, who says nothing, continuing to rinse the rest of the glasses. “Her name’s Mikasa,” she continues, her voice getting oddly unsure, “They’ve known each other forever. They even… live together.”

“… What,” Ymir stares at her in disbelief.

“It’s not like that,” Krista finds herself sounding defensive, “Eren’s dad is her guardian… or something. Has been for some years. So, it’s not like they moved in together…”

She elects to skip the part where Eren’s dad is a doctor with Doctors without Borders and is barely home for more than a couple of months a year. She didn’t like the look Ymir was giving her anyway.

“So… they’re like brother-sister or what?”

“No,” she says, realizing that the word came out more vehement than she intended. But she knows that was definitely not the way Eren saw their relationship.

“… Krista,” Ymir starts, and the blonde can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s going to get all protective on her, “… I know you’re in high school, and… you’re dating – as you should – but you don’t have to waste your time on shady boys.”

At this she laughs because, “Eren’s not shady, he’s a nice guy,” –

“… You could get anyone you want; I mean look at you, you’re beautiful.”

The defense that was bubbling up in her throat suddenly stilled, because there’s something about the way Ymir just said that – called her beautiful – earnestly, quietly, and it made her feel funny. It took her breath away for a very brief second and replaced it with a warm flush that creeps up her neck.

It’s strange, she’s heard it before from so many boys with obvious motivations; Eren’s always calling her pretty, and complimenting her eyes or whatever… But when Ymir said it, and looked at her like that, honey brown eyes, deep with unnamed emotion, all she could do was avert her eyes.

…

vi.

It’s 7pm and the library’s home only to the nerds by now. The librarian is lax (and underpaid) enough to ignore the low buzz of two over-enthusiastic AP chemistry students that grates on Mikasa’s ears.

Ordinarily she’d just plug her earphones in and ignore the world to focus on the assignment at hand. But today she accepts anything to distract her from the scene earlier at home. And even though Armin’s sitting right next to her, supposedly doing his own thing, she doesn’t miss the worried glances he sends her every now and then, which she really doesn’t want to address.

Her feelings for Eren were a well-known secret by now, just as well-known as the fact that he clearly didn’t return those feelings, so she wasn’t particularly in the mood for Armin’s indulgent pity… regardless of how well-intentioned it was.

So, when its 8pm and the librarian is shooing them out, and she bumps into Jean, she’s grateful for the few extra minutes of conversation surrounding absolutely nothing important.

When they continue to the parking lot, their conversation having progressed from awkward conversation starters to an animated discussion on Jean’s tennis form, Armin’s well and truly realized that he has no place here.

After Armin’s said his goodbyes and Mikasa recognizes that she doesn’t mind staying away from home and possibly Eren and Krista in the middle of their 5th round, she asks Jean, “… so do you like Chinese food?”

…

When she walks in a little after 10 pm, cheeks cold from the night air, there’s a small grin on her cheeks, because she’s made a new friend today, whose company she genuinely enjoyed.

But when she enters the living room to see Eren fast asleep on the couch, she finds herself staring in the face of the reality she’d tried so hard to escape. It’s difficult to ignore the ruffled quality of his brown hair, mussed up in a way that could only have been achieved by someone (a very blonde, very beautiful someone) raking their hands through it.

She can’t help the wave of irritation that sweeps through her - so she doesn’t bother to soften her footsteps as she walks up the wooden stairs.

Minutes later, she hears his sleepy voice at her door. “Hey,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, “you were out pretty late, so I left you some dinner. We made pasta, it’s not as good as yours but,” -

“… I ate already,” she says, tone clipped.

“Oh.” He’s quiet, just watching her put her things away, and there’s irrational tears pricking at her eyes, anger, and frustration that she knows she doesn’t have the right to, so she doesn’t turn to acknowledge him. “… Mikasa, are you…,” he clears his throat, “… is something wrong?”

When she says nothing, he sighs, turning, “… Well, if you want to talk about it, you know I’m always here,” -

“… Could you please go over to Krista’s house next time?”

She colours, surprised at herself for her outburst of honesty. But her blush pales in comparison to Eren’s as he processes what she’s saying. “… This is my house,” he sputters, “… I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to want to bring my girlfriend over.”

“Well, it’s not just ‘bringing her over’, is it?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “… What I do with Krista, in my personal space, is definitely not your business, Mikasa.”

“It is when I can hear it, Eren,” she retorts, as he shuts the door forcefully behind him.

…

vii.

It’s been two weeks since that… confrontation, and Mikasa’s barely spoken to him since.

She leaves before he does, makes sure dinner’s left out on the stove for him, whether he needs it or not, and locks her door when she’s done. And although he’s found himself staring awkwardly at that shut door multiple times, he’s never had the courage to actually knock.

He simply cannot comprehend this situation because despite the numerous arguments they’ve had in the past - it was always him, whining about something like a petty child and sulking till he got his way - she’d never truly been mad at him. And she’d never, ever, gone days without talking to him. And as he stares at the locker next to his (it was Mikasa’s) with a horrible ache in his chest, he is well and truly sure that he loathes this situation.

So, when small hands reach around his waist, enveloping him in a tight embrace, his subconscious reaction is to jerk back in annoyance. “I didn’t realise it was you,” he murmurs apologetically, rubbing her hands softly.

“… Who else would it be?” Krista asks, somewhat thrown off by this mood that had been festering for days now.

“You ask some very valid questions there, babe,” he mutters, a distracted half-smile on his face.

Taking a deep breath (determined to shake him out of his pensive aura), she whispers, “… You know, I don’t have work today.” She leans against him, reaching up to murmur in his ear, “we could hang out at yours for a while, if you want?”

She makes it clear what she means by “hanging out” by the way she presses up against him, and even though he’s responded with fervent enthusiasm to a similar invitation in the past, today he just averts his gaze, awkwardly.

Swallowing the rejection with a graceful exterior, she puts an arm’s length of distance between them. “… What’s going on, Eren? Your head’s been somewhere else all week.”

And before he starts to stay that it’s nothing, just that he has some stuff going on, she says, “… does this have something to do with Mikasa?”

His green gaze jerks up at her, startled with unfortunate honesty. “… I haven’t seen you talk to her all week.”

“…I,” he starts, but his throat closes up, for some reason, unsure whether he should really tell her what happened. He doesn’t want to put her in the middle of something that was clearly between him and Mikasa.

But with every passing second, the guilty look on his face only begins to feed the fears that she had successfully kept dormant all this while. “… Did something happen between the two of you?”

And when he looks into her eyes, bright blues seeping insecurity, he says, hurriedly, “… wait, I hope you aren’t thinking that we,” - he inhales sharply, wondering how he manages so successfully to upset the women in his life - “God, no. We had a misunderstanding, that’s all. She said something, I was pretty rude to her, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“And,” he murmurs, admitting it to himself, finally, “I’ve just taken too long to apologize.”

…

She’s barely finished washing the vegetables for dinner, when she hears the thud of the front door closing loudly.

(She remembers Carla reprimanding him every time, for not being gentler)

Mikasa has managed to avoid Eren successfully these past days, because she knows his schedule, knows that despite his complete lack of organization, he’s fairly predictable. And with his recent interest in a particular cheerleader, he almost invariably never comes home before 8.30 PM. So, when she hears him enter their kitchen at little over 7, she isn’t prepared.

She isn’t prepared because she’s been quite cowardly, saying things that she had no business saying, and then being unable to own up to it, unable to apologize to him. Because she knew that when she looks at him, she’ll feel the way she feels right now - taking in the sight of him, drizzle droplets fresh in his brown hair, as he runs a hand through it, his mouth twisting into an awkward grin. She knew she’d realize that her feelings for Eren were never really much of a choice, they just were.  

“… I brought your favourite dumplings from Li’s,” he announces. “And I brought an extra serving of the spicy soy sauce so we don’t have to fight over who gets the last bit.”

…

He’s grateful for the small smile that forms on her face when she accepts the dumplings (the peace treaty as he calls it in his head), and for the small banter that she indulges him in as they eat.

After they’re stuffed with dumplings and inconsequential conversation, he clears his throat, because he remembers he came home early tonight with a certain conviction.

But as she does with most things, she beats him to it. “… Eren, about the other day,” she looks at him earnestly, “… I had no right to demand that of you. I’m sorry.”

And when he’s still quiet, she mumbles quickly, “I don’t know what got into me that day, honestly, I,” -

“Don’t apologise, Mikasa,” he says, a strange disquiet taking over him as he replays her words, “… the last thing I want, is to make you feel uncomfortable.” Or to make you feel like you can’t demand what you want from me.

This is the part that settles into him slowly, that somehow, the one person in his life that he’s always felt he could ask anything of, could demand anything of, and actually receive it without fail… she didn’t feel that she could count on the same from him. And it twisted painfully inside of him.

“I appreciate that, Eren. But honestly, I’ll get used to it… so don’t worry.” She smiles, in that genuine way of hers, small lips, curving shyly, “… and who knows, maybe someday I’ll want to ‘bring someone over’ too.”

She laughs as she does the air quotes and even though he manages a small grin in response, all he can say, without really meaning it, is –

“Yeah… Of course, yeah.”

…

 viii.

 She takes her frustration out on the cash register. “… Damn thing doesn’t open when I need it to, and doesn’t close when I want it to,” she mutters under her breath.

 “You just need to show it some love,” Ymir says, amused, promptly closing the problematic register without any difficulty. “… Go sit, I’ll close up here.”

 She does as she’s told, pouting slightly, but she’s grateful for the older girl’s help and understanding. “So… want a beer before I close the tap?” Ymir asks with a wink.

 “You need to stop offering underage girls alcohol,” Krista whispers, scanning the room hastily.

 The brunette rolls her eyes. “You need to stop with the innocent act every time. You’re a hot cheerleader for god’s sakes, everyone knows what goes on at your high school parties,”  -

 “Ok ok,” she acquiesces, suppressing the blush at Ymir’s offhanded compliment and deciding that that there was no point in panicking every time they did this, “… but only if you join me.”

 “Cheers,” Ymir says, offering her glass to Krista’s and taking a generous gulp. “So, tell me. Boy trouble, again?”

 Krista nurses her drink slowly before taking a sip.

 To Krista, Eren was a breath of fresh air. He didn’t hover, he didn’t foam at the mouth every time she spoke to another guy, didn’t hound her if she didn’t pick up his phone call.

 Does he even care? Ymir had asked her once scathingly, but she had disregarded it, grateful for the freedom she felt in his embrace. Freedom from toxic attachment, from past trauma or unresolved baggage like the one she was destined to carry. When she was around him, she had felt different. Lighter almost, as if this persona that she had created for herself could actually have a shot at happiness after all.

 But lately she’d begun to wonder if she’d just been fooling herself… again. She’d begun to question if she had just convinced herself to see the promise of something that was never there.

 “… I thought this guy was one of the good ones,” Ymir says, watching Krista closely.

 “He is…” she sighs, “He is one of the good ones. It’s just…” she trails off, unsure if she should give voice to her thoughts. “Ah fuck it, I’m just feeling a little insecure, it’ll be fine…”

 “… Is this about that sexy flatmate of his?”

 She winces, feeling exposed. It often felt that way with Ymir. Like there was no point to any of the barriers she had worked so hard in constructing.

 “She is attractive,” Krista admits, begrudgingly. “… I’m only surprised Eren hasn’t noticed that.”  

 “… But that’s what you’re worried about, aren’t you? That he has noticed that of late?” Ymir narrows her eyes at Krista. “You should just ask him about it!”

 “I did,” she states defensively, “… and he said there was nothing,” -

 “… Oh, sure there’s nothing. I can’t believe he thinks he can lie to you and get away with it,” -

 “Ymir, I trust him, he’s my boyfriend,” -

 “But that’s the problem with you. You just trust everyone, and you let them walk all over you. You did this with Reiner and now with,” -

 “Ok,” she whispers, “Stop it, Ymir.”

 “… Krista, you need to trust your gut about this sort of thing. If your gut is telling you that he’s a lying asshole, then you should just dump his ass and,” -

 “… See this is why I didn’t want to tell you about this,” she cries, her voice rising In frustration. Because this is how it’s always been with Ymir, no one she dates is ever good enough, no decision she makes is ever smart enough.

 “You’re always shitting on my boyfriends. And I know you were justified about the last one, but,” her voice cracks just a little bit, because at the end of it all, she just feels weak, “… it feels like you’re just taking a massive crap on me as well.”

 “I didn’t mean,” Ymir starts apologetically, brown eyes remorseful, “… look, that wasn’t my intention.”

 She takes her hand, slowly, lets her long fingers intertwine with Krista’s smaller, dainty ones.  The crumpled expression on Krista’s features has her regretting ever opening her big mouth. But she was tired of seeing one person after another, enter her Krista’s life, and undo the progress she was trying so desperately to make.

“… The truth is,” she takes a deep breath, ready to unleash a truth that’s been stifled for so long, she can’t even remember when it first sprouted, “I think you’re pretty fucking amazing. And I see you wasting all your time and your feelings on these stupid boys who don’t deserve you.” The words come out quickly, rushed almost. A sharp contrast to how long they’ve festered in Ymir’s chest, growing and growing until these feelings knew no reason.

 Ymir doesn’t look at her, she keeps her gaze focused on Krista’s hand, afraid of what might happen if Krista understands the depth of feeling behind her words. But more important than her feelings, there were some things she wanted Krista to see clearly.

 “Did you tell him about your father, Krista? What he does to you when his wife isn’t looking?”

 Krista tugs on her hand, a wave of unbridled panic spreading at the mention of her father. “I trusted you with that information, Ymir, you promised you’d never bring it up,” -

 “… Did you tell him your real name?”

 She can’t answer this question, even though she knows the answer, knows it’s an emphatic ‘no’ - but she cannot answer because there’s an overwhelming lump in her throat, and it’s taking everything from her to barely keep it together.

 “… Let go of me, Ymir,” she pleads, and that’s when Ymir loosens her grip.

 “… You trusted me to keep quiet about your secrets - and I’m fine with that. I’m fine with doing anything you ask of me,” her teeth grit together, because she doesn’t know, Krista doesn’t know just how much she would do.  

 “You asked me not to do anything about the fact that your father is hurting you, and it even though it kills me, I listened to you. But now I see you hurting yourself in this farcical relationship with fabricated feelings for some boy who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, and I don’t know if I can be quiet about that anymore.”

 And because it’s grown too large, too much to keep inside of her anymore, she whispers, “I love you, Historia. And if you want me to let go of you, I will. But,” she brushes her lips gently against Krista’s cheek, “… You can trust me with your secrets, and your heart, if you’d let me, because I could take care of you.” She feels a warm tear roll down Krista’s cheek and her heart clenches, “… I could make you happy.”

 …

ix. 

 “… I really appreciate you making time for this,” she murmurs, as she watches him lay the white lilies at her parent’s grave.

 He always remembers, without her prompting, because the first time he’d come with her, she’d spent hours crying at their gravestone, telling him tear-filled anecdotes of the dishes her Mama cooked, the bedtime stories her Papa told, the flowers that they used to grow in their garden together (white lilies).

 “C’mon Mikasa,” he rolls his eyes at her, “… we do this every year. Why wouldn’t I make time for this?” And why the hell are you thanking me?

 She can’t really explain it to him, the possibly childish notion that she thought he might be too busy with his girlfriend to remember the death anniversary of her parents. She regrets doubting him, regrets that of late she’s been so clouded by petty jealousy, that she hasn’t truly appreciated how little he’s changed around her.

 “It’s ridiculous,” she confesses, softly, “… you’ve given me everything. A home… A family.” She smiles at him, somewhat blurry. “But I can’t help it, every year on this day, my mind always goes back to that… moment. I lost them… in what felt like the blink of an eye.”

 He tenses, as he always does when he sees her upset, or shedding a tear. There is a fundamental part of him that deeply despises the sadness on her features; it makes him feel helpless. So, he does the only thing he can - he wraps an arm around her, tucking her face into his shoulder as she snuggles into him.

 “I miss them every day. But you saved me, Eren,” she whispers, dark eyes looking up at him with a gratefulness that he has never known how to accept, and never felt worthy of. “… and now I have you.”

 Her voice trails off, almost wistful. “… I guess the world really can be cruel but beautiful at the same time.”

 …

 x.

 When he stops to think about it, he supposes it really is ridiculous it took them so long to get here. And by here he means - Mikasa wrapped securely in his arms, in his lap, on their couch, taking advantage of the privacy they’ve had all along.

 He feels her tongue flick against his - it makes him shiver - and he can do little more than just wrap himself around her tighter, and sigh into her kiss. Her fingers make their way into his hair, cradling his head, pressing sweet kisses on the side of his mouth, on his jaw, and on the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

 And because Mikasa’s always been a quick study (she’s learnt what he likes, what he’s weak for), he stills her exploration (very reluctantly) before she goes too far.

 “Are you okay…?” He whispers, rubbing a thumb along the dried tear stains on her cheek – a reminder of her tears, of knowing the pain that he’d caused her, bubbled quietly within him, having been quelled temporarily by the glorious feeling of having her in his arms.

 She laughs, shaking her head, “… I love you. I can’t believe I finally get to say it.” She rests her forehead against his, a happy smile forming on her lips.

 “… You could have said it ages ago; you know. No one asked you to keep it inside for this long.” Even though he teases her with his words, his lips drift back to hers, brushing softly, unable to stay away for too long.

 “… Well, you never know, I actually might have said it. If it wasn’t for, you know, you having a girlfriend.” He senses the eye roll, the teasing lilt of her voice, but he can’t help but regret the time he wasted. Because even though Krista was a dear friend, and there were no ill intentions there, now that he is here, chest to chest with the girl he loves, he only wishes he’d been here sooner.

 “You’re going to use that against me forever, aren’t you?”

 She grins in response. “… I have a question though.”

 “Shoot,” he murmurs, nibbling against her lower lip.

 “… Why’d you guys break up?”

 He groans, kissing her jaw testily. “… Do you really want to go into that right now?”

 She hesitates, torn between potentially ruining the mood and needing to know what happened. God knows, she had spent countless nights losing sleep over the details anyway. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay, I guess…”

 “It’s fine,” he says quickly, realising that if he wanted to set a precedent where she could ask him anything, then it‘s best he starts now, “… She’s in love with someone else. A girl, actually.”

 Her eyes widen, not having expected that turn of events. “… Please tell me you didn’t ask for a threesome.”

 “What the fuck, Mikasa, of course not!” He pulls back, offended.

 “Good,” she murmurs cheekily, “I’ve raised you well.”

 “Hmm,” he hums, “Speaking of ‘raising me’, you should probably stop saying stuff like that. Do you know that Connie asked if you were like a ’sister’ to me?”

 He grins, seeing the shocked expression on her face. That’s exactly how he had felt when he was posed that question, with a little mortification added to the mix. “… Is that really how everyone sees our… relationship?”

 His fingers drift to hers, where they rest on his chest. “We’ve been living together for a while now,” he caresses her knuckles absentmindedly, “Kids our age… they don’t really understand it, I guess. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

 “My turn: I have a question for you,” he murmurs. This is a question he’s long considered, stopped only by his embarrassment, fielding it from others only to put the vaguest labels on it.

 “… What am I to you, Mikasa?”

 The question throws her, because even though she’s told him candidly how she feels, that she loves him, she always has, he is asking her, right now, to define their relationship.

 The very notion, the expression that flits on her tongue, bubbles up in her heart with an exciting warmth, even though she hopes this is just temporary, that it will grow, that Eren is so many things and will be so many things to her that she cannot possibly define right now - “… My boyfriend, of course.”

- fin - 

A/N:  i've been really nervous to post em, because its just been so long, and the writer that wrote chap 1 is different from the one that wrote chap 2, and honestly i dont even know if there are inconsistencies. so my request to you, dear reader, is to please let me know if i have made any fuck ups in writing this - or if you have any ideas for pacing, or storytelling that could possibly help me improve.

also there will be a chapter 3 focusing on eremika’s sexual exploration~

[lettersnorth]

Prompt #1: Foster

“Go again.” 

The youth looked down at the paltry pile of pebbles on his side of the dusty cavern floor and furrowed his brow in consideration. 

His opponent, also stuck straddling that awkward line between boy and man, held out something enclosed in the shell of his cupped hands and waited. And waited. This far beneath Ala Mhigo the tunnels were deathly silent. Deeper in there lay a trail of torches to light the way but here there was only the flickering lantern light between them. The shadows along the walls jumped every time the candle flame spit. 

“Gods’ blood, Connor! Go!” Rundulf finally exploded. The sound of his exasperation bounced off the walls of the catacombs that ran like a rabbit’s warren beneath the city. 

When the Garlean Empire had finally moved in over the tattered remnants of the beleaguered city-state, the Imperial army had sealed the tombs, the last resting place of Ala Mhigan dead. To keep out the ‘rabble rousers’. It might have worked if the Empire had found and sealed all the entrances. But they had failed to understand what a labyrinth they had on their hands. Miles of tunnels going back hundreds of years. It was all too easy for an intrepid Resistance to make camp within a few long forgotten spaces. A secure place for seditious talk. 

“Don’t rush me.” 

Or, an idle argument between two bored adolescents attempting to stay alert with nothing but stone and dust around them. 

“Pick a bleedin’ number or I swear to Rhalgr I’ll --”

“Three high.” 

Rundulf grunted and opened his hands, sending a cascade of flat stones clattering to the dirt. The boys leaned over the stones, peering in the dim lantern light to see which ones had landed with their white painted faces up, if any. 

Alas, only two displayed their pale faces.

“Ha! That’s another for me!” Rundulf crowed, a fist punching up into the darkness. 

Shaking his head, Connor flicked a pebble from his ever-dwindling pile towards Rundulf’s own. “Gods, I hate this game. Can’t we do somethin’ else?”

Just then, beyond the lantern’s reach came the soft sound of a throat being intentionally cleared. And the game was suddenly and hastily forgotten. With eyes wide with surprise, Connor grabbed the lantern and swung it in the direction of the noise as Rundulf surged to his feet, ready for a fight. 

The swinging lantern light fell on one slight and slender girl and both boys visibly relaxed. Aislinn was nearly half their size, a spindly collection of knees and elbows destined to forever be the runt among them. The antithesis of a threat. 

“What’re you doin’ down here, North?” Connor sighed, lowering the light. 

“Lookin’ for da.” she said simply as she made to pass them, only to have Rundulf block the way. 

“You know he’s with the others. Plannin’ out next steps. He’ll be up when they’re done.” 

“I didn’t know that.” 

Connor laughed as he knelt down and collected the stones again in preparation for another round. “Not sure you were supposed to either. Good job, Rundulf.” 

The larger boy, realizing his mistake, merely folded his arms across his chest and grunted. The less he said, the better. 

“Sit and play a few rounds, Aislinn. They should be heading up soon.” Connor said, clattering the stones in his hands. 

She studied him for a long moment and then wordlessly shook her head. The catacombs were as dark and foreboding as she remembered. It was bad enough that she had ventured this far on her own. When they were children she had been forced to spend a night down in this place, sharing a sarcophagus with a moldering skeleton. A fact he should have remembered just as well as her. She had no intention of staying and ending up the subject of another cruel child’s prank. 

“What’re they discussing?” she asked instead. 

Rundulf sullenly shrugged and broke his silence. “Probably tryin’ to figure out a abetter way to get information out to the other cells. Last two runs didn’t go so well.” 

Aislinn peered down the tunnel. “They aren’t choosin’ the right people.” 

“Says you.” Connor snorted. 

“I do.” she replied, turning that unerring gaze back on him. It was unsettling. The way she spoke so flat. She was too serious by half. It was too old an expression set in too young a face and it crawled under his skin. A part of him was almost certain she knew it too. 

“Suppose you know who they should send.” 

She jutted her chin up. “I could do it.” 

Rundulf’s guffaw echoed off the stone. “Don’t think they’re that desperate yet.” 

“I just caught you two unaware. And you’re supposed to be on watch. I coulda snuck right past and you’d have kept playin’ your game.” she countered. 

Rundulf opened his mouth to reply but Connor held up a quelling hand. “We’re flattered, Aislinn but we ain’t exactly Imperial patrols now, are we? Those runs are serious. You need your wits about you the entire time.”

“Are you explainin’ a run to me like I haven’t been here just as long as you?” Aislinn asked, her question more of a barbed statement than anything. 

Her tone must have gotten through, for in the lantern light she could see the tips of Connor’s ears go red with embarrassment. 

“Clearly someone needs to. Your da is never goin’ to let you go. No matter how much you keep harpin’ on him. It’s gettin’ pathetic.” 

Aislinn blinked at him. The only sign that his words had struck true. He regretted them the moment they were out of his mouth. He was forever doing the wrong thing when it came to her. Forever the arse. 

Wordlessly, she turned and retreated out of reach of the lantern light, back the way she had come. He groaned under his breath and hung his head. 

“Look, maybe it needed to be said.” Rundulf said, returning to his side of the makeshift playing field. 

“Shut up.” 

“Coulda let someone else do it though.”

“Shut up.” 

“Fine. Go again.” 

With an air of resignation Connor held the stones out over the floor when there came the sudden sound of swift steps hitting the dirt. Once again Connor and Rundulf sprung up but Aislinn was quicker. One stride, two, a dodge to the left, a duck under Rundulf’s swinging arm and she breezed past them, down the corridor towards the meeting of generals. 

“Gods damn it!” 

She heard them giving chase and almost laughed. In a world where it seemed everyone was bigger and stronger, Aislinn had learned to be faster. They would never win in a race against her. She sailed down the torchlit passage with an elated sort of satisfaction. 

The three careened around the bend, Aislinn remaining just frustratingly out of reach until they burst into the large burial chamber at the end of the tunnel. The men and women gathered within turned in haste towards the interruption. The slithering sound of several swords leaving their scabbards drew Aislinn up short with Rundulf and Connor stumbling behind her in their effort not to bowl her over. 

“Hold.” 

“It’s just a couple of young ones.”

“Bloody hells, aren’t those th’ ones you put on watch, Jorund? Fat lot o’ good it did.” 

Winded, her wide eyes took in the gathering amidst the flickering torchlight and for a sparse moment she regretted the impulse that had driven her here. No. A small voice inside refused to let her back down. She was tired of sitting on the side lines. Tired of watching the others do their part while hers seemed to always be to sit at home and anxiously wait for their return. Passed over time and again. She could do something. She could be useful. Why couldn’t anyone see that?

“I can do it.” she said, hating the way her voice sounded so small in the cavernous chamber. She shook her head and tried again. “I can do it. I can make the run.” 

“Aislinn?” her father’s voice rumbled the way it always did but in this space it seemed to reverberate. He was a wall of a man and he didn’t so much push through the others as much as they parted for him. Thick arms folded across the barrel of his chest as he stared down at her. Looking into his storming eyes she knew there would be a talk about this later. 

“You’re looking for people to make the run, aren’t you?” she pressed. “To pass information to the cells outside? I can do it.”

“No.” Jorund ground out. 

“Yes, I can. I made it past those two. Probably could’ve snuck right by without them lifting their heads.” she waved an arm back towards Rundulf and Connor who stood catching their breath. They passed each other a dark look. “I’m quick. I’m nearly invisible. No one pays me any mind. And those patrols aren’t going to be looking for someone like me. They’re not going to suspect me of carrying Resistance intel.” 

There was the briefest pause of silence and then, “She makes a good point, Jorund.” one of the other men spoke up. 

“I said no.” Jorund snapped his head towards the man, glaring in his direction.

“We’ve been sending our boys who could fight if it came down to it but maybe that’s the problem. They look like they could fight. Empire ain’t gonna look twice at this wisp of a girl.” he continued on, undeterred. 

“And if she runs into trouble?” a woman next to him countered. 

“You heard her, she can run.” 

“She can outrun two boys, not a imperial patrol, Bernier. I don’t know about you but I’m not comfortable sending a girl headlong into the waiting arms of Garleans.”

Behind her, Aislinn heard Connor make a low noise in the back of his throat that sounded distinctly like an ‘I told you so’ to her.

“Oh, but sending our boys is alright?” 

“Don’t pull that shite. I know as well as anyone here what a patrol will do to the girl if they get their hands on her.”

“I’m tellin’ you, they ain’t gonna be looking twice.” 

“Quiet.” Jorund’s voice, instead of rising to meet the others, had grown soft and still. It brought an immediate halt to any conversation. He stared down at Aislinn with a dark sort of anger but she saw something behind that. Something raw and broken. Something that told her he would forever see her as the child she had been, the little girl he had bounced on his knee. And any hope she had fostered of taking a meaningful part in this Resistance faded to nothing. She knew his answer before he even opened his mouth. 

“She’ll get caught. And do you think she’ll hold up under questioning? Or do you think she’ll spill every little detail she knows and bring the Empire down on us? We’re the only ones feedin’ th’ others intel from the inside. We can’t let something like tha’ happen.” he growled and though he spoke to the others, he kept his flinty gaze trained on her, hammering the words home. Willing her to understand once and for all. “She’s too much of a risk. Send Connor.”

------

(The result of Connor’s run can be found here.)

[glitchh3d]

Halloween Party (Terushima x Reader) [HTF]

So, I didn’t proof read this. My apologies. 

Also, it’s not the best because I’m not the best at writing and i’m very tired and sad because my halloween went to crap but y’know. whatever. 

Ily guys!! Here you go! 🥰

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Cheating but not really. Language. Talk about sex. Talk about drugs. Alcohol and other college party stuff. 

Masterlist

(Y/n), Terushima, Futakuchi, Atsumu and Taichi walked into Kuroo and Bokuto’s house later than expected, but there was a round of cheers for them as soon as they were noticed. Kuroo bounced over excitedly, his drink spilling over the edge of his red solo-cup as he pulled (Y/n) away to lead her toward Matsukawa and Hanamaki who were waiting for her in the backyard with Oikawa and Iwaizumi. 

She giggled upon seeing them in their costumes. Hanamaki had darkened his hair somehow so it was red but Matsukawa had left his, instead styling it slightly. 

“Oh my god, you two-” She fell into a fit of laughter as they strutted around and showed off their legs that were covered in thin white tights. She pulled them into a tight hug, thanking them for doing the group costume with her. “I love you guys, thank you so much!” 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa both laughed and shrugged it off. 

“Anything for you, (Y/n). You’re our girl.” Matsukawa said, slinging his arm around her shoulder. Makki wrapped his around her waist and Oikawa flailed his arms around excitedly. 

“Let me get pictures!” He shouted, his halo nearly falling off as he jumped excitedly and rushed towards them. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes but smiled at his friends. 

(Y/n) giggled at his annoyed look, curious on how Oikawa managed to convince him to do a couple costumes with him. They were an angel and a devil. Iwaizumi looked like he didn’t really care though, only wearing a red tight fitting t-shirt and black skinny jeans with a little devil tail clipped to his belt loop and a devil horn headband on his head. 

Oikawa on the other hand, was wearing a pure white robe that had gold accents. His cheeks were dusted with gold and he had a halo headband on. Gold bracelets went up his arms and he had big angel wings on. 

“He looks ridiculous, huh?” Iwaizumi asked as he caught (Y/n) eyeing his boyfriend's costume. She smiled and shrugged. 

“It’s cute. Yours though, mister. Holy shit. Who gave you the right to be that hot.” She asked, making him blush. Oikawa snapped a couple of pictures of the trio in their costume and then turned to admire Iwaizumi with (Y/n). 

“Iwa-chan is hot, isn’t he? But stop ogling my boyfriend! Go ogle your own!” Oikawa said, shoving his cell phone into Iwaizumi’s pocket. 

“Hey-” 

“Oh shush. You’re my pockets for the night, deal with it.” Oikawa demanded. (Y/n) smiled at them and then saw Terushima, Taichi, and Atsumu walk into the backyard. Terushima smiled at her lovingly before approaching. 

His costume, Boomer from the Rowdyruff boys, looked good. They went for more of an e-boy route so he was wearing a black and white striped long sleeve shirt under a blue t-shirt that had the iconic black stripe across the chest. He was also wearing black fishnets under his ripped skinny jeans. He stuck his tongue out and winked at her as he approached. 

“Hey baby girl,” He said, pulling her away from Hanamaki and Matsukawa who raised their eyebrows at him. 

“Look at this tool,” Matsukawa said as Terushima wrapped his arms around (Y/n)’s waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. He cocked his head to the side and winked at them. 

Taichi and Atsumu approached on either side of them. Taichi looked bored, but Atsumu was grinning. 

“Wow, lookin’ hot Matsukawa.” He teased. He’d gone with Butch from the Rowdyruff boys but instead of wearing a long sleeve striped shirt, he was wearing a black hoodie under his green t-shirt. And he had dyed his hair back to black just for the night.

(Y/n) had tried suggesting to just use some wash out spray to do his hair but she was a few minutes too late. 

Flashback to the night before

(Y/n) walked into her apartment after a busy day at work, Taichi trailing after her tiredly. They had been on the closing shift for the night. 

“Teru! Atsumu! Ken? You guys here?” She called into the apartment. She heard a loud crash in the bathroom and hurried towards it, dropping her bag on the floor in her rush. “Holy shit, what happened? Are you oka….y?” 

In the bathroom, Atsumu was sitting on the toilet with a towel wrapped around his neck and shoulders. Terushima was holding a bottle of hair dye and Futakuchi was laying in the bathtub, watching. 

“Why the hell didn’t you just use the halloween hair dye spray that washes out?” She asked as Taichi peeked in over her shoulder. He groaned and turned and walked away. 

“...I didn’t think of that.” 

END of flashback

“Fuck, I know.” Matsukawa said back, a grin rising to his face. They fist bumped. 

Hanamaki grinned at Taichi who shook his head. 

“Don’t.” Taichi said. He was Brick and he absolutely hated it, even though he didn’t wear anything out of ordinary. He was in a red jumper with singular black stripes on the upper arms. He had a lock and chain necklace on and a single dangly cross earring on.  He also was wearing a black beanie and he looked cute in (Y/n)’s opinion. 

“But Taichi, bro! You look good. We’d make a picture perfect couple, don’t you think?” Hanamaki asked, batting his eyelashes at him. 

“I’m going to find Semi.” Taichi disappeared after that. Hanamaki pouted but turned and grinned at (Y/n) again a second later. 

“I’m gonna go harass him,” Hanamaki said, making everyone laugh as he sprinted off. Atsumu and Matsukawa followed after him, leaving Iwaizumi, Oikawa, (Y/n) and Terushima alone. Oikawa smiled at Terushima but it was a bit forced. 

“You two look good. Don’t they, Iwa-chan?” Iwaizumi stared at the couple then he shrugged. 

“(Y/n) looks good. I dunno about Terushima though,” Terushima gasped and pulled away from (Y/n), glaring at the two older men. 

“You two are fucking rude.” He said making (Y/n) snort. “I’m going to grab a drink, alright babe? I’ll be back in a few, yeah?” (Y/n) nodded. He kissed her cheek goodbye and then walked towards the glass sliding door that was wide open. (Y/n) smiled after him and then turned back to her friends who were watching her with fond looks. 

“What?” She asked defensively. They shrugged. 

“You just look really happy is all,” Iwaizumi said, crossing his arms. Oikawa nodded in agreement. 

“You do seem happy. I’m glad. You deserve it, (Y/n)-chan!” She smiled at them and pulled them into a hug. 

“Aw, you guys…” She said as they both hugged her back. Iwaizumi was the first to squirm away, claiming he also needed a drink. Oikawa and (Y/n) let him go with little pouts but when they curled up on chairs next to the fire pit and chatted to themselves.

“So (Y/n)-chan. You and Teru have been together for a few weeks now, yeah?” 

“Yup!” 

“And he treats you right?” Oikawa asked, eyes narrowing. She nodded. 

“Of course he does. He gets a simp of the year award.” She said with a smile. Oikawa nodded and fist bumped her. 

“Iwa-chan does too. He’s very sweet behind closed door,” Oikawa winked and she snorted. “Speaking of behind closed doors. Have you two-” 

“No.” She replied quickly making Oikawa freeze with wide eyes. Then he smirked. 

“My my, (Y/n)-chan. That was a hard no, wasn’t it?” He asked and she rolled her eyes, pulling her legs to her chest as she stared at the flickering flames of the fire. “Why’s that? You’ve had sex before haven’t you?” She shrugged. 

“I- I guess I’m scared?” (Y/n) said, not looking up. 

“Why?” Oikawa frowned. 

“Because Yuuji has this image, right? He’s popular. Nice. Funny… I’m scared that once he gets all of me then he’ll leave because he’s had better and-”

“Sorry, I’m gonna stop you there.” Oikawa grabbed (Y/n)’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I don’t know Terushima too well, but from what you tell me, he seems like a great guy. One who respects you and cares about you a lot. I don’t think you need to rush to have sex or anything but I don’t think you should be scared to have sex either.” 

She nodded and smiled back at him. 

“Yeah… You’re right. I just-” (Y/n) was cut off by the back glass door getting slammed open. Iwaizumi was fuming and his hair was dripping with water as he walked towards them. “Oh shit, what happened Iwa?” 

“I swear to god I’m going to kill your boyfriend (Y/n).” 

“What? Why?” Her heart was racing.

“He fucking- that bastard just almost drowned me in that stupid apple bobbing bullshit!” (Y/n) and Oikawa laughed as Iwaizumi ran his hands through his hair. He flicked droplets of water at them and then sat in the small gap of the chair next to Oikawa before pulling his boyfriend onto his lap. 

Oikawa whispered something into Iwaizumi’s ear and the ex ace began to turn red. (Y/n) smiled and looked away from them as they started having their own little private conversation. She didn’t want to intrude so she stood up, saying she was going to grab a drink. 

“Hey hey hey! What’s up, (Y/n)!” Bokuto asked as (Y/n) entered the house. She smiled at him and patted his arm as he pulled her into a side hug. 

“Hey Bokuto! I like your costume!” He looked down at her confused. “I LIKE YOUR COSTUME!” She shouted over the music. He laughed and nodded. He was a sexy firefighter, wearing only the pants of the costume with suspenders and the helmet. 

“I like yours too!” (Y/n) smiled at him and then eyed Akaashi who was standing next to him, wearing a lifeguard costume (aka just a shite t-shirt with a red cross on it and red swim shorts). He had sunscreen smeared on his nose and a cheap flimsy whistle around his neck. He smiled at her as she got done looking him up and down and then also pulled her into a small hug. 

“Hello, (Y/n)-san.” 

“Hi Akaa-chii! He smiled at the nickname and patted her head before he was dragged away towards a beer pong table by Bokuto who was screaming at Kuroo and Daichi for a re-match. 

She chuckled fondly and kept maneuvering her way through the crowd of unfamiliar faces and costumes. She dodged angel and devil wings and even a long dragon tail. She also had to avoid the ass end of a donkey costume that was dancing wildly on the dance floor. 

She sighed as she got to the kitchen, reaching into a random cooler to grab a drink. She popped the cap off the bottle and took a long swig, her face contorting in disgust at the taste of whatever she grabbed. 

“Hey, (Y/n).” Futakuchi said as he entered the kitchen. She smiled at him. 

“Hi Ken,” She smiled at him. “Where are the others?” 

“Ah, Terushima is dancing in the living room I think and Taichi and Atsumu are doing keg stands in the game room.” She nodded and thanked him, heading towards the livingroom to try and track down her boyfriend. 

Upon entering the living room, she immediately spotted him. There in all his glory he was dancing with their newfound friends. Suga and a bunch of people she’d never seen before were hyping him up, dancing and jumping around with him. He was in his element. 

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” A chant started and Terushima laughed along, rolling his eyes. There was a girl with blonde hair standing next to him that grabbed him by the back of the neck, yanking him down and into a kiss. 

At first (Y/n) didn’t realize what was going on. And then it clicked. 

Terushima had just kissed someone. 

Her boyfriend just kissed someone that wasn’t her. 

Her boyfriend willingly just kissed someone that wasn’t her, in front of her. 

“What the fuck.” (Y/n) said, her hand that was holding her beverage falling limp against her side. Everything felt like it was in slow motion. 

Everything aside from Terushima was blurred as he laughed and joked with the girl he’d just kissed. Like he didn’t do anything wrong. 

(Y/n) realized that the only reason everything was blurry was because of the tears gathering in her eyes. But if Terushima was going to act like nothing was wrong, then so was she. So she left. She set her bottle down on the counter as she walked towards the door. Kuroo and Semi both tried calling out to her but she ignored them, exiting the house quietly. She wrapped her arms around her bare arms as she walked down the sidewalk and towards the unfamiliar city of Tokyo. 

She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew Kait was somewhere within the giant city. She just hoped that Kait had her phone on her.

(Y/n) walked a little further to a little empty park, sitting down on the empty swings. By now all the trick or treaters were gone and the streets were empty aside from a few small groups of teens who were laughing and teasing each other. 

“What the fuck,” (Y/n) repeated to herself as the image of her boyfriend kissing another girl replayed in her head. She didn’t want to believe that it was true, but she’d seen it with her own eyes as Terushima pressed his lips to some blonde girls. 

She didn’t realize that the tears were falling until they dripped down onto her lap and through her thin dress. She was shaking from the cold but she didn’t care. She only had to wait 15 minutes and then she’d be with Kait and they could figure things out together from there. 

Would she break up with Terushima? 

Did he not love her? 

Was he just using her? Did he get bored that fast? Maybe if she’d done more he wouldn’t feel the need to go off and kiss someone else. 

She tried to be enough, she really did. 

School and work filled a lot of her schedule but she always tried to make as much time for him as she possibly could. 

Why was this happening? 

“(Y/n)?” A voice called out. Was that Kait? Had it been 15 minutes already?

 (Y/n) looked up as she heard Kait’s voice call out to her.

“Kait?” 

“Oh (Y/n),” Kait rushed forward, followed by three other figures. (Y/n)’s lip quivered as she stood up from the swing. As she met Kait halfway the tears she’d been holding back broke free and she let out a choked sob as Kait enveloped her in a hug. “Oh, honey, no…” 

_____________

Terushima laughed as he tossed back another shot of something clear. He knew it definitely wasn’t water as it made the back of his throat burn but he was okay with that. 

It was halloween night and he was at a party, the point of this entire night was to get drunk and have fun and that’s exactly what he was doing. 

“Yo, Suga! You were holding out of us with this guy! You knew he existed and didn’t tell us?” Tanaka laughed as he danced next to Terushima. Noya was jumping around excitedly next to them, screaming the lyrics to whatever song was playing on the speaker. 

Tanaka was wearing a blonde wig, an entirely pink outfit, imitating Regina George from Mean Girls. His girlfriend, Kiyoko was Aaron Samuels, wearing a simple blue mens polo shirt and some baggy jeans with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Noya was Gretchen Weiners but his brunette wig had ended up falling off when he did a keg stand earlier and he was just too lazy to put it back on. They had convinced their friend Kinnoshita to be Karen Smith but he was currently puking his guts out in the bathroom upstairs accompanied by Ennoshita and Narita who were Cady Heron and Janis Ian. 

“Yo I could kiss this man right now,” Terushima said as Tanaka poured him another shot. Noya smirked. 

“Do it!” Suga rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement. 

“Do it! Do it!” 

And soon enough the entire room was cheering for the two to kiss. Tanaka rolled his eyes but reached and grabbed Terushima by the back of his neck, pulling him down into a quick kiss. When they separated, they laughed and fist bumped, taking another shot. 

After a few more minutes of dancing, Terushima made his way towards the kitchen where Semi and Kuroo looked concerned. 

“What’s going on guys?” He asked as he pulled a beer can from a cooler. He popped the tab and took a sip as they exchanged looks of concern. “Hey, either of you two seen (Y/n)? I left her in the back with Oikawa and Iwaizumi but I haven’t been back there and-”

“Terushima, (Y/n) left.” Semi said, making Terushima freeze. 

“What?” 

“We both just saw (Y/n) take off out the door a few minutes ago. She looked like she was about to cry,” Kuroo said, making Terushima enter panic mode. 

“And neither of you tried to stop her?” 

“I- we called out to her. We thought she was just getting some fresh air or something, calm down. I’m sure she’s fine.” Semi said, making Terushima shake his head. 

“No, I gotta go find her. She doesn’t know her way around Tokyo. None of us do, what if she gets kidnapped?” 

“What’s going on in here?” Matsukawa asked as Terushima slammed his beer can on the counter. He pulled out his phone and started texting (Y/n). 

“Did you see (Y/n) leave?” 

“(Y/n) left?” Oikawa asked as he and Iwaizumi entered the kitchen. Terushima shook his head as he got no response. 

“She’s not answering me. Oikawa, text her.” 

“What? What the fuck is going on?” Iwaizumi asked as Oikawa pulled out his phone and began texting their friend. 

“(Y/n) took off a few minutes ago and now she’s not answering her phone.” 

“Okay so check all the rooms and stuff. And check outside. Try and find her around the house before we go out looking, yeah?” Kuroo said, making everyone in the kitchen nod and split up. Terushima and Semi went out the front door, calling (Y/n), hoping to either get her to answer or to hear her ringtone but there was nothing. 

“Fuck!” Terushima shouted. “I lost my fucking girlfriend and she’s probably scared and upset and-” 

“Do you think someone drugged her?” Terushima’s head turned at lightning speed and he glared at Semi. 

“Why would you even say that?” 

“I- what! It happens!” 

Well. That happened. 

Another post tomorrow <3 

Love you guys! I hope you had a Happy Halloween! Goodnight! 

Taglist: @kaitycole, @cosmicmermaid25, @sempiternal-amour, @99astrid, @hidden-otaku-stuff, @vicassa, @elianetsantana, @ankl3s, @newfriendjen, @oikawa-simp, @dakotacecily, @axolotleyeliner, @heyyourecute, @tchalameme, @toobsessedsstuff, @marinovakovich, @disaster-rose, @tacosforexo, @sleep3deprived, @prettyinblack231 (Open)

[kyber-kisses]

Something More

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: mentions of character death.

Summary: When you lose your best friend, its hard to move on. . Luckily its not the end for either of you.

A/N: So this is much shorter than my usual fics but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. feedback is greatly appreciated! Also this is a hot mess that has been sitting in my drafts for eons. . . so its probs garbage.

It was so quiet.

The type of quiet that feels like it’s sleeping into the very marrow of your bones. The type that curls around you and is almost irritating. That type that makes you uneasy. Sure there was the light hum of the radio turned down low and the occasion sound of a page being flipped. . .but your head had blocked those out.

You were drowning. And silence was the suffocater.

With your arms folded over the top of Bobby’s desk, you rested your chin atop your hands, eyes mindlessly locked on the glass in front of it.You had been doing a lot of that lately. Getting lost in your head space. Blocking everything out.

“You keep starin any harder and you might actually melt the ice.” Bobby sighed, breaking the silence from the other side of the desk. The old hunter shifting his way through a pile of books besides him.

“Mmhmm.”

“You gonna actually have a conversation with me, or no?”

“Mmm.”

“Y/N.”

“What Bobby?” You snapped, lifting your head up to find his gaze. “What?”

“We need to talk this out.”

Slumping back in your chair you folded your arms over your chest. “Talk about what?”

Bobby let out a sigh before tossing another book to the side, his pile growing slowly. “It’s been four weeks, Y/N. You’ve barely said a word.”

“What is there to say? my best friend is six feet under and Sam has taken off to parts unknown. That about sums it up.”

“Y/N-“

You shook your head before pushing yourself out of your seat. “No. No. I ain’t having this conversation. Not now.” You didn’t give the hunter any room for more words before you were leaving the study and disappearing down the darkened hallway.

You couldn’t sit here any more. You’d been cooped up in this place for almost month, and when you did leave it was only to wander aimlessly around the junkyard. With Dean gone it felt like there was a massive hole in your life and you felt lost.

It was twenty minutes later that Bobby found you seated a the kitchen table, shoving a handful of clothes into a backpack with much more force than was actually needed.

“So, you finally leavin me too?” He sighed, arms crossed as he leaned against the door frame. You didn’t stop your movements, only letting out a huff.

“Bobby. . . It’s not- it’s not like that. I’m not pulling a Sam. I’ll come back.”

Bobby let out an almost amused and airy laugh. “Yeah, sure. Keep talkin like that.”

“I’m serious. I will come back. I just- I can’t sit around here anymore.” You began, pausing to zip up the pack and throw it over your shoulder.

“Alright, kid. You gotta give me more information than that.”

That was when you felt the first sting of tears collecting in the ducts of your eyes. Letting out a tired sigh you looked up at the old hunter, the exhaust and pain clear on your features. “Bobby, I don’t sleep.” You breathed, voice shaky. “I don’t eat. And it’s so quiet here. Each second I sit here, I’m just drowning in grief. I need to occupy myself with something. Even if that means hunting.”

“By yourself?”

“Yes, by myself.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

Another sigh. “You know, probably not. But I’m not gonna sit here anymore and drink myself into a stupor.” You slid your other arm through the empty strap. “It might help me work through this.”

There was silence for a moment before he slowly nodded. “Well, if that’s what you want. But promise me you’ll check in every once and awhile?”

“I will.” You promised before stepping across the old floors of the kitchen and pulling him into a quick hug. “If Sam calls, tell me.”

“Will do, Kid.”

And just like that you were giving him one last look and disappearing out the side door of the house, the dark swallowing you almost instantly.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Three months later

Spitting the excess water out of his mouth, Dean reached for the hand towel lying untouched on Bobby’s kitchen counter, wiping his face dry.He had been back less than a day and had already been attacked by some unknown force and the man he called a father figure. Resurrection was not treating him easy to say the least.

“I’m not a demon either, Bobby.”

“Can’t be too careful.” He shrugged, setting the flask down on the closest flat surface. When he originally heard knocks on the front door now a days the only person he expected it to be was you. (Then again, you usually just walked in.)He didn't expected to see a dirt covered Dean Winchester smiling at him on his stoop.

The hunter nodded, a heavy silence falling over them as green eyes darted around the otherwise empty house, as if looking for something.

“They ain’t here.”

“What?”

“You’re looking for Sam and Y/N aren’t you?”

Tossing the towel back down, the hunter shrugged. “I mean, yeah. I guess I just expected them to be here.”

Dean had tried calling both yours and Sam’s phones when he first got topside, but there had been nothing, leaving him only with an uneasy feeling in his belly. He had missed your voice. He was hoping to hear it sooner rather than later.

“Well, I haven’t talked to Sam in months.” Bobby sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the table.

“Why the hell not?” Eyes widening, Dean sent him a bewildered look. “Bobby you shoulda been lookin after him.”

“Well excuse me. But after you. . .you know, bit it. He took off. As far as I know he’s fine.”

Dragging a hand down his face, Dean let out a deep sigh. “. . . And Y/N?”

Another shrug. “She comes by every once and awhile, she’s been burying herself in hunting.” He paused, unsure whether to fill Dean in on everything.

“What?”

“She hasn’t been doing well. She shakes it off each time she comes to visit but it’s easy to see.” Bobby explained, moving to the fridge and rifling through it for a couple of beers.

“What are you talking about?”

“After you died. . . Dean, it was like she became a husk of her former self. She didn’t talk, she barely slept. Refused to eat. It was bad.”

Dean took a deep breath, trying to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. “And what happened?”

“One night she just packed her bag and took off. Said she couldn’t just sit around here anymore drowning in grief.”

Of course you did. Of fucking course. You never were one to sit by and just let things happen. You were similar to Dean in that aspect, choosing to instead bury yourself in work rather than face the issue head on.

“You should have stopped her.”

“Oh and done what? Acted like a damn babysitter? That would go over well.” Bobby huffed, cracking the cap off of the second beer and handing it over.

“I know, I just- she shouldn’t be alone.”

“She wanted to be, Dean. I wasn’t gonna stop her.”

“Alright, fine.”raising his hands in defeat, Dean winced. The gash from where Bobby has cut him with a knife minutes earlier stinging from the sudden movement.

Bobby let out another tired sigh before setting down his beer bottle and walking off down the hall. “I’ll get you some bandages for that.”

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Pulling into the auto-salvage after a two week long hunt, you let out a groan at the sight of another car in your usual spot.

“Dammit Bobby, another car? Seriously?”

The old man already had enough of them as it was just sitting around the place, now there was another one. . . And in your spot no less. Throwing your own vehicle into park behind it, you gathered up the groceries you had promised Bobby you would pick up and threw open the drivers door.

Your boots crunched against the dry gravel of the driveway as you made you way towards the side door into the kitchen, pocketing the keys with one hand before reaching to open the door and stepping inside.

“Alright you old man, I got those fuckin groceries you asked f—“ your words died quickly on your lips as you froze, looking up from your bags.

No. No you were imagining things. You were sleep deprived and needed food that was all.

You blinked.

Nope. He was still there. Okay. Cool, cool, cool-

Dean froze right along with you, his eyes widening as he pushed himself up from his spot leaning agasint the table. He could feel the corners of his lips turning up at the sight of you. Your flannel was tied around your waist, and your hair. . .your hair was shorter than the last time he saw you. But your eyes were still the same, bold and full of life- even if you were staring at him like he had sprouted a second head.

“Y/N.”

And then you were moving. The bags dropped from your hands and before Dean could fully register your movements you were pulling a small throwing knife out of your boot, pulling your arm back and throwing it with all the force you had before closing the space between the two of you with firm strides. He ducked quickly, the soft thunk of the blade lodging in the wall somewhere behind him being heard over scattering groceries.

“Y/N! Wait-“ his hands went up but not before your fist collided with his nose. He saw stars for a moment before his vision tried to focus once more.

“Fucking shapeshifter!”

And then he was on the ground and you were stradling his chest, fist raising again. “ damn it, Y/N! Stop, stop it’s really me!” Attempting to shield his face from your knuckles he held up his hands.

“Don’t you dare fucking use his voice!” You growled, free hand moving to his throat. “I may not have a silver knife on me right now, but that won’t stop me from choking the life out of you.”

“Would you fucking stop it! It’s me!”

“No! Dean is dead! My Dean is dead, you're just some sick imposter!”

“Good god, woman-“ Dean wheezed, hands wrapping around your wrists in attempt to pull you off.

“What the hell?”

There was a commotion from somewhere behind you and then two firm hands were forcefully yanking you off the monster. You struggled against his grip.

“Bobby, let me go! He’s a shifter, he’s a fuckin shifter!”

“No, no I already checked.” Bobby breathed, continuing to hold you back. “It’s not a shifter. It’s rally him, Y/N. It’s really Dean.”

“No-“ you struggled more, unfortunately feeling your energy start to give. “No. Deans dead. He’s dead.” You could feel the tears starting to burn as you shook your head.

“Damn it, kid. I’m tellin ya, it’s him. I did all the tests.”

There was another moment of struggle before you slowly gave up, prying yourself from Bobby’s grip. Your eyes never left Dean, who was still recovering on the floor. He wiped the blood away from his nose with the back of his hand before slowly sitting up.

“Was the choking really necessary?” Looking up at you he had hoped to find a look of relief maybe even a smile. . . Or even get a hug. But all you did was stare him down for another moment before storming off back out the side door, slamming the screen door with much more force than necessary.

“Okay. . . Wasn’t the reunion I was hopin for.” Dean groaned, pushing himself off the floor as he rubbed at his throat. “Has she always been that strong?”

“You best go find her before she comes back with a bat or something.” Bobby joked, only to get a glare from the older Winchester.

“You’d think she’s be happy to see her best friend after him being dead for four months.” Grumbling, Dean made his way towards the door, using his hip to push it open.

It didn’t take long to find you. Your back was towards him as you leaned against the trunk of one of the many cars in the auto salvage. Just beyond the yard the sun was beginning to set behind the tree line, the rays giving you an almost golden trim.

Fourty years. Forty years of being in hell, and you were the first beautiful thing he had seen since coming back. . . Even if you were for some reason mad at him. He paused in his spot for a moment, suddenly remembering how many things he had wanted to tell you before his time ran out. Things he never got the chance to.

“Is that your ugly ass car in my spot?” You spoke suddenly, not turning around to look at him.

“. . .Okay, first of all- not my car. I found it. Secondly, I didn’t know that was your spot.” Shaking his head he continued moving forward until he was siding up next to you.

Your jaw clenched as you looked back towards the horizon. You didn’t mean to be angry at him, truly. You were ecstatic that he was back. You wanted nothing more than to throw your arms around him and tell him you missed him.

But you were angry.

Angry at him for selling his soul, angry at him for leaving without telling you. Angry at him for emotionally scarring you-

That’s when you suddenly spun and your palm connected with his cheek with a loud crack, the hunters own hand flying up to the already red welt.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for?”

“That was for dying! That was for you leaving!!” You snapped, eyes blurry with tears. “You left to go find Lilith with Sam and you didn’t tell me! You didn’t even leave me a note or anything!” Your voice cracked. “I came back from a supply run that night and found the place empty! Bobby was the only one to tell me anything! And by the time I got to where you were— you were- you-“ you stumbled on the words.

That’s when Dean felt his heart break. You were right. You had every reason be mad. He took off on the night his year ran up and he didn’t tell you. But he only did that because she didn’t want you there when it happened. He couldn’t put you through that pain.

“You’re right, you’re right.” He sighed, nodding slightly before pulling you into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I should have said something. I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

You struggled against him for a moment before giving in, practically melting into his arms. You didn’t realize how much you had missed his hugs. They were so nice. Warm. Comfortable. Safe.

“Why’d you leave like that? Why didn’t you tell me? I thought best friends were supposed to tell each other everything.” You mumbled into the fabric of his jacket, his hand smoothing over your hair as he exhaled.

“I knew what I was walking into. I didn’t want you there. I didn’t want you to see that.” He admitted, feeling you clutch him tighter.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah. Yeah I know.”

“I’m sorry for almost killing you back there.”

“its fine. . .But you do have a killer right hook by the way.” He chuckled, praying you would laugh. You didn't.

You let yourself stay in his arms for another second before pulling back to look at him. Fucking bastard. Showing up here after being dead for months and then making you go all soft again. Who did he think he was?

You raised a palm again, Dean holding up his own in defense, ready for your strike- and then he felt it tug on the collar of his shirt and was caught off guard when you pulled him to your level and pressed your lips against his. For an instant Deans brain short circuited and he found himself frozen before hesitantly kissing back. Unfortunately you pulled away much too soon for his liking.

“And what the hell was that for?”

“That was for not staying dead.” You paused. “And for being a pretty bastard who stole my heart a long time ago.” This time your words much quieter.

“What?”

“Oh you heard me you gorgeous asshole. Don’t act like you didn’t.”

This time it was Deans turn to twist his fingers into the fabric of your flannel, yanking you against his chest. His lips found yours again, this time deepening the kiss.

“And here I thought my feelings where all one sided-“ he mumbled against your lips, arm wrapping around your waist.

“Well, you thought wrong Winchester.”

And in that moment, for the first time in forty years- Dean Winchester smiled. He was home, and he was happy.

SPN Taglist:

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[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

OC Kiss Week Day 2: Blanket

WIP: To Annex the Kid/The Invention of Fire Pairing: Works x Russell (with a cameo by one of Works’ aliases) Timeline: TIoF CW: More yearning! Yay! Rating: T Words: 1,653

***

Cady shivered and pulled her blanket tighter around her small shoulders, teeth chattering against the frigid cold seeping mercilessly through the doors of the coach. Works turned to her in alarm at the sound.

“My goodness,” he exclaimed, squeezing her to his side on the seat. He rubbed her arms to force warmth into her wiry frame. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this cold?”

Sitting across from this display and facing the rear of the coach, Russell watched Works take a spare blanket from his satchel and tuck it under Cady’s chin, wrapping it tight across her chest and essentially swaddling her within thick wool, and after a few moments the chattering stopped.

“Sorry, Mr. Works,” Cady said. “Guess I didn’t think much of it.”

“Nonsense.” Works peered through the window as best as he could through the endless snow and fog hiding London from view. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times not to feel that you’re being an inconvenience by asking for ordinary things such as an extra blanket.” He swung around and affected a humorously severe face, brows drawn too tight together and mouth tugged down in an exaggerated frown. “Can you imagine the inconvenience if you’d expired?”

Cady belly-laughed and Russell shook his head, bewildered.

"I do not understand why y’all think the things you think is so funny is so funny sometimes," he muttered, though he let out a quiet snort anyway if for no other reason than because he enjoyed when they interacted with such familiarity.

Still laughing, Cady buried her face in her blanket. “It’s not my fault!”

"There isn’t a lot to envy in the way of having a macabre sense of humor,” Works said. He looked at Russell with an expression of false surprise. “Some say it’s a sign of low intelligence or maturity, you know.”

“Low intelligence, no.” Russell’s face split into an playful grin. “Maturity? That might be up for discussion.”

Works pretended to be affronted and placed a firm hand on the top of Cady’s head. “This is a child!”

Russell opened his mouth to respond when the coach came to a rolling stop. One glance outside told him they’d arrived at the house rented out to them by Dr. Keller, and an overwhelming yawn burst forth from him in anticipation of stretching out on the most comfortable bed he’d ever experienced.

And stretch out he did some minutes later, with a steaming cup of tea brewed by the housekeeper, reclined on a sofa in the well-lit drawing room and another five or six blankets piled onto his lap. He wasn’t sure how he got to that point or why begging Mrs. Gabb to leave him be just this once always resulted in a cup of tea that went to waste.

“Y’ever been dragged along the dirt behind a galloping horse for thirty seconds?” he asked.

Works, freshly changed into a gemstone-hued dressing gown, stifled the sounds of Cady enjoying a lively song with Mrs. Gabb in the kitchen as he pushed the doors closed. “...I can’t say I have.”

“Well, it feels kinda like this.” Russell deposited the teacup along with its saucer onto the table in front of him.

A pause settled over the floor and Works slid his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to speak to you about that, actually.” He hesitated. “About you being here, with me—”

“Works,” Russell interjected, holding up a hand to stop him, “we already talked about it enough.”

Works spared a cautionary look over his shoulder at the doors, where the jovial noise continued from further into the house. The chances of being interrupted were low, yet he dropped his voice anyway. “I still need you to know how much it means to me that you’d come so far from home, into such foreign waters for the sole purpose—”

“Works....”

“—For the sole purpose of letting me pursue a silly whim.” Works’ eyes followed Russell as he got to his feet, leaving the blanket pile behind. “I can see how uncomfortable you are here.”

“First of all, if you call this...this....”

“Symposium.”

“If you call this symposium a silly whim again, you’re gonna have to answer to me. Also, I would let you drag me along the dirt into the deepest depths of the ocean, McCoy.”

The silence that followed surprised them both. Not even Mrs. Gabb’s distant and boisterous laughter could stop the furious blush from cropping up on Russell’s face as he realized he’d taken Works’ shoulder in hand, fingers digging into the muscle meeting his neck, and they stood impeccably close to one another.

“I get seasick,” Works murmured.

“I am all too familiar with the concept.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said to me up in that balloon.” Works made eye contact and held it for ages. “I fear I’ve underplayed what hearing those words from you has done to me emotionally.”

Russell swallowed. “Yeah...I actually think this might be the first time you’ve looked me in the eye since we left home.” He, too, glanced to the doors. “You’re lookin’ a little like you wanna make somethin’ right, however.”

Magnetically, Works bowed toward Russell, pressing a purposeful kiss to the hollow of his cheek. The flutter of his nervous breath against Russell’s skin sprouted a shiver.

“Works,” he said with finality. Concession.

Taking that cue, Works met his lips, gathering the fabric of the waistcoat Russell hated wearing into tight fists and backing him into the wall with aggression so suppressed it almost snapped like a dry and brittle branch across Russell’s shoulders. Works kissed him like he needed to taste him or accept death, and Russell felt a rumble of courage in his stomach he hadn’t felt in quite a few years that allowed him to hold Works in place by the back of the neck and reciprocate enthusiastically.

Russell had the belt of the dressing gown open and his arms around Works’ waist so quickly the chill of the air hadn’t set in yet. Works inhaled sharp, shuddering under the pressure of large palms splayed flat against the curve of his backside, caught between his trousers and the softness of the robe.

Works tangled his fingers within Russell’s previously kempt hair, and the crash of a dish breaking in the kitchen followed by an undistressed yelp fueled Russell into pushing Works in the direction of the door to his own bedroom on the other side of the drawing room, to get out of open space, to sate the clawing hunger in privacy.

Russell’s famished mouth found its way to Works’ jawline, hands preoccupied by the buttons of his shirt, completely in a haze that he wouldn’t have given an ounce of recognition had it not been for Works suddenly gripping the door frame to stop them with immediacy.

“Russell...” Works hissed. He took hold of Russell’s chin. “Russ, darling....”

Russell gazed up at him with glossy eyes. “Yeah.”

“Not like this.” Works touched his forehead to Russell’s, nails so far into the wall that he tore a bit of the paper, breath coming out in forceful gusts. “I would never forgive myself.”

Russell kissed him again, slow, heart humming into his bones, parts of him aching low and urgent, and though he agreed with Works in the end, he couldn’t help but feel a sting of frustration at the tables being turned for once.

Footsteps in the hall forced them apart, and Works helped flatten Russell’s hair while simultaneously re-tying the dressing gown. He was still in the process of securing the knot in the belt when the drawing room doors opened.

“Sirs,” Mrs. Gabb sang upon entering the room. “Nothing to worry about! I’ve made a right mess is all."

“Everything alright?” Works asked, and only Russell picked up on the strained way he talked.

“Oh, yes. I dropped a teacup. Shattered it to pieces.”

Russell exchanged a look with Works. “Tragic.”

“I’ve sent the young Miss to freshen up for supper while I clean up.”

Works coughed a bit. “Allow me to help, Mrs. Gabb—”

“No, no, Mr. Robinson, I won’t have it at all. You’re guests to this house! What would Dr. Keller say?”

“Let ‘im help,” Russell grunted. “He won’t leave you alone if you don’t.”

Mrs. Gabb’s rosy cheeks pinched out as she grinned. “Well, alright. I’ve got a broom this way....”

The remainder of the evening went on much like nothing had transpired, other than Russell occasionally catching Works in the act of watching him as if he had a particularly puzzling riddle marked on his forehead from across the dinner table. The intensity of his clear blue stare gave him goosebumps.

A knock on Russell’s door much later, after he’d assumed everyone else had retired for the night, startled him. He looked up from his lettering book and tensed up. “...Whozit?”

“It’s me,” Works said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Russell tossed the book onto the bed and pulled the door open just enough to see Works silhouetted by the hall light, bottom lip between his teeth and worry lines aging him somewhat.

They stood unspeaking for a moment.

Works took a calming breath. “I love you.”

Russell nodded. He’d heard it before, but it still made his entire body warm. Insecurity prevented him from repeating what he’d said in the balloon. “I know.”

“I didn’t want you to think...I apologize if I gave you the impression that I wasn’t....”

“Gimme a kiss g’night, McCoy.”

Works leaned in to press a chaste kiss, the softest kiss to his lips. Russell let it course into his veins.

“Good night,” Works whispered.

Russell found it a little easy to fall asleep that night. If he’d known it could’ve ended up being the last time he’d ever kiss Works McCoy, however...he sure would’ve changed his mind about a lot of things.

[qatirna-can-read]

It’s Not Murder if They Deserve It - O

Heavy Trigger Warning for Violence, Abuse, and Sexual Assault. 

Not a moon passed since Oleta reached her fourteenth nameday and she’d been working under this man for less time than that. She knew him before now, he was part of the crew, but up until this point she had gone out of her way to avoid him whenever possible. In all honesty, the behemoth of a Haragin scared her. He stood well over three fulms taller than her, his body wrapped in muscles as much as scars. A mean drunk - who was always drunk - the ship’s carpenter agreed to teach Oleta his trade as long as she did “<what that little cunt is focken told.>” That her mother and father not only sanctioned, but actually arranged this, was truly a testament to their parenting.

Oleta was motivated, driven. One day she would have her own ship. One day she would captain her own crew. She knew every place on that vessel, every part and piece to keep it running. She knew every role, each crew member, what they did and why. Now she just had to learn how to run it. After a few moons she could take another job, she just had to grin and bear it until then.

For weeks now Oleta received frequent beatings for mistakes real or imagined. If the shipwright was unsatisfied with his ale, she’d get a backhand to the jaw. If she drilled a hole in the wrong part of the wood, she’d get a blackeye. That mistake she wouldn’t repeat. Tonight she didn’t even know what mistake he accused her of, he was too angry and incoherent for her to understand. In the hold he roared at her violently while she stared at him, mouth agape, confused and nearly as furious. 

“<Don’t you look at me like that you little slut!>” he shouted as he slapped her hard enough to knock her to the floor. Only a moment passed before she glared back up at the shipwright, shooting daggers with aurelian eyes. Fuck this. Wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth she stood defiantly. With a puffed chest and a scowl she spit in the man’s face, pink flecks speckling his leathery skin and scales. He responded to her slight with a heavy punch to the gut, doubling her over and back to the ground.

She knelt on the floor, her forehead nearly touching the grimy wet wood. She couldn’t breathe. Silent ineffective gasps dragged her heaving chest up and down in an attempt to catch air in her lungs once more. Before her throat had the chance to open again, he kicked her hard. A thump and a cracking sound came from her ribs as she fell to her other side.

He watched with a sinister smirk as she writhed on the dirty ship floor. One arm wrapped around her side where he’d kicked her. Her other hand slapped at the wall limply as pathetic croaking sounds broke through her throat. At least a minute passed before a desperate choked inhale finally graced her lungs. She coughed and sputtered on the floor, finally catching her breath while he laughed.

Pressing her body against the wall, she used the leverage to pull herself back up to standing. Her arm still wrapped below her sternum. She raised a fist and lunged for the man with a frenzied scream. He easily interrupted her attack, grabbing her by the upper arm and pinning her back against the wall. He roughly took her by the wrist protecting her ribs and pinned that arm to the wall as well. He pressed his entire body against her, putting pressure on that broken bone. A sobbed howl escaped her throat and she looked away.

“<I see you need a lesson on respect, whore bitch.>” His grasp still tight, he dragged his hand from her bicep to her wrist, tugging both her arms harshly up and together. He could hold her there with just one hand now. His free hand grabbed her jaw, pulling her gaze back up to his. Despite tears in her eyes, she still scowled at him with insolent fury. He still wore that sinister smirk as he bent down, forcefully licking from her collarbone to her chin. His breath smelled of pungent acrid ale. Now trembling, she pulled her head away in disgust but his hand on her jaw held her face forward. 

Her indignant golden eyes locked with his cruel bemused greys. Once again she spat in his face. He growled as he kneed her in the stomach and she cried out in pain. She began thrashing, screaming, shrieking at the top of her lungs. If she couldn’t get out herself, maybe someone would come? That’s when he clamped his free hand down over her mouth.

“If you make one more sound you filthy cunt, I’ll do the same to little Avalyn.” Her sister hadn’t yet reached her twelfth summer. Oleta’s eyes went wide and pleading and terrified. She just shook her head quietly and acquiesced.

She cried silently the whole time as he grunted on top of her. When he was finally done he stood up, buttoned his trousers, and walked off without so much as a second glance her way. She laid curled up on the floor of the hold, shivering, bruised, revolted. No one but Avalyn asked about where she was when she didn’t rise with the rest of the crew at the crack of dawn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Oleta woke in pain and confusion. The bruise that formed on her side during the night was massive. A deep purple spanned almost the entire length of her torso, blackened near the point of the break. Beyond her obvious physical injuries her entire body felt wrong. Like it no longer belonged to her. Like it was nothing more than a sick puppet of broken flesh and bones that she had the misfortune of living in.

She pulled herself up to hands and knees just as a sudden sour rush of saliva overwhelmed her mouth. Her face twisted and she expelled what little stomach contents that remained from the day before. That convulsing of her body made her muscles tighten against her ribs and she released a heavy sob in agony. 

For most of the morning she stayed in the hold from the shock and the pain and the exhaustion, fading in and out of consciousness for several bells. By the afternoon, despite still being in immense pain and still being exhausted, dehydrated, and hungry, she stayed hidden away in the hold out of shame. 

Just before sundown she gathered enough stubborn will to survive to pull herself off the ground. With the walls as her crutches she slowly made her way out of the hold for the first time in more than a sun. Rounding a corner she came face to face with a woman who looked quite similar to Oleta. She was older, and far more covered in tattoos, but she had similar rose colored skin and soot black hair. 

“<Been lookin’ for you all day, girl.>” she scolded, then realizing her daughter was injured followed up with. “<Let’s get you to the surgeon.>” She began hooking her arm under Oleta’s to help support her weight.

“<Fuck off, Mum!>” She flailed to keep her mother away but the movement of her arms made her recoil from the pain in her chest. Her mother just sighed and continued the motion to hold up her daughter, helping her get to the surgeon where he could look her over. Her mother dropped her off and left, she had work to do.

Oleta lied about how she got her injuries, and she only let him examine her upper body. Made up some shit about pulling too much lumber at once and it crashing onto her torso. The surgeon almost believed her and patched her up without further questions, leaving her to rest on a cot. The break wasn’t life threatening, but they didn’t have any magical healers on board. She would have to heal the old fashioned way - with time.

She refused to go back to work for the shipwright, at least until her ribs healed, she promised. So her assigned position changed to working in the kitchen under a kind Dazkar man who had married into the Haragin crew. 

Slowly she healed, regaining her strength, her drive. The Dazkar she worked under helped. He was gentle with her, and patient. Mistakes were minor and easily rectified. Accomplishments were praised. He started her on easy tasks, things she could take care of while healing - chopping or tending pots on the stove, he taught her how to brew beer and wine. As she regained her strength she could help with lifting heavy bags and boxes. Eventually she even learned to slaughter the chickens and pigs they kept alive on the ship for meat. At the time she didn’t yet realize that she was practicing for more than just butchering as she honed the skill of sharply pulling a blade across the arteries of an animal’s throat.

Oleta began feeling like herself again, despite the carpenter still sharing the same ship. Her anger never faded, but her revulsion did some. At least her revulsion with herself. Something that continued weighing on her though, was how he threatened Avalyn. The young girl was more sensitive than her elder sister, softer and gentler and not at all interested in the harsh lifestyle of piracy. Oleta protected her fiercely. The only thing that made this situation different was the gravity. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two moons passed without much conflict. Oleta felt physically better at least, but as her physical pain diminished her fury grew. She kept her eye out for the shipwright at all times, waiting for a night when he let his guard down. A night when he found himself drunk and alone. 

The new moon provided no light to the darkened deck and in the still night almost none of the crew remained above the sleeping quarters. As per usual, the carpenter stayed on deck, drinking and watching the dark ocean under the night sky. 

Oleta stole two carving knives from the kitchen. She was amateur, but after a life on a ship she was also strong. She knew every place the boards creaked, knew every obstacle, every hidden corner, every break in the hull. She crept up to the deck. He was alone. Silently she glided up behind him, a phantom of his sins. She pulled out the first knife. With careful and purposeful aim she pulled her fist up to slam the blade into his back, right next to his spine, just managing to puncture the lung. 

A gurgled choke of surprise and pain sputtered from his mouth and he gripped his chest, reeling about to get a look at his attacker. A light trickle of blood bubbled to his mouth and his eyes widened in recognition and rage. 

“<Why you little -- >" The second knife interrupted his rasped threat as Oleta quickly but crudely dragged the blade across his windpipe, slicing through him like an apple. She knew to tug that sharp edge through the cartilage on the side of his neck to burst the artery. A torrent of crimson spilled from the wound accompanied by the wet strangled sounds of desperation. She spit in his face once more and pushed him back, over the ledge and into the black waters below. 

She stood at the railing for what felt like a lifetime, but was probably only a half a bell, watching as he splashed and flailed in his salty wet crypt. She watched as he fell out of sight, whether from his inevitable sink or from the ship sailing away too far - she wasn’t sure. She watched the merciless sea take the shipwright to his grave and continued after he was certainly gone.

Oleta reluctantly turned away from the deep dark waters of her willing accomplice to clean up in the kitchen. She washed the blood from her body and the remaining carving knife she held, as if performing a ritual. A sacred ceremony for retribution. She left that blood stain on the deck. She wanted that reminder.

In the dead of night she slid through corridors to the hammock where Avalyn slept and crawled in with her younger sister, holding on with tenderness she would never express for anyone else. For the first time in nearly three moons she slept soundly, her only regret was that he got off so easy. A burial at sea was too good for him.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Between the Ink and Papers Ch. 3

Summary: Steve and Peggy have been divorced for a year and Sarah is still starting to find her groove in it. However, it becomes a lot easier when she and Typhanie realize it might be time for her dad to start dating again.

Pairings: tattooartist!dad!Steve x Reader, Typhanie x Sarah, Peggy x Logan, Bucky x Natasha

Word Count: 1592 words

Warnings: Mentions of past self harm, there might be cussing?

Between the Ink and Papers Masterlist - Masterlist to Other Works

Previous Chapter

--

Y/N had seen a lot of smiles in her life. Working as a counselor, they ranged, but the one Sarah gave her now was absolutely terrifying. She knew, in this moment, she would never be able to live it down. “Uh…Sarah? What are you doing here?”

The grin never wavered. Sarah intertwined her fingers, resting her chin on top of her hands. “Oh, just working. What about you, Miss Y/L/N?”

If Y/N could crawl into a hole, she would. This wasn’t exactly a setting she would have ever expected to cross with one of her clients. “I – “ Before she could stutter out an answer, a rhyme or reason for being in a tattoo parlor with her tipsy friends, someone came from the back.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, surprised to see someone that looked like that working at a tattoo shop. He looked like he should have been a model. His blonde hair was swept back and those bright blue eyes surveyed the room as if he owned the place.

And maybe he did.

“Hi. I take it you ladies are the ones Bucky told me about?”

“That’s right,” Y/N heard Wanda say, walking past her and to the counter he now stood behind. “All five of us wanted to get something.”

Y/N was hardly paying attention to the conversation. She was far more focused on trying to figure out why this guy looked so familiar. He held out a hand to Wanda. She promptly shook it, her grip lingering a little too long before he shook hands with Hope, Carol, and Val as well. They introduced their names before he looked at Y/N.

She noticed the dark circles under his eyes, but refused to let herself think too much about the cause of them. Instead, she took his hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Steve Rogers. This is my place.”

Rogers. Y/N looked at Sarah. She was still watching, that amusement never wavering from her eyes. He was her – Oh boy.

As Steve took their IDs and handed them to Sarah, he explained how they would most likely have to divvy the women up between himself and Bucky. It would keep them from spending too much time here at least. Y/N also had a feeling it was something to do with getting Sarah home at a reasonable hour, but there was no way she could be sure. For all she knew, Sarah had a bed here that she slept in.

Oh, dear god, that was a horrible thought. Why would she put that idea in her head?

“Hey.” Y/N blinked, looking at the hand touching her arm. Hope was watching her curiously, clearly concerned but not willing to voice it. “You okay? You’re not already regretting this, are you?”

“No, of course not. It’s…” Y/N glanced at Sarah. Her back was to them, copying their IDs to the paper each woman would need to sign. “Complicated.” She remembered all the sessions she had with the young girl. How she was struggling. Was it because she was spending nights like this? How much of Sarah’s life was being kept out of their sessions? And what sort of stability did she really have?

“You comin’?”

Y/N jerked, looking towards the back. Steve was waiting there, and her friends were already putting down their pens. Sheepishly, she scribbled her signature on the paper. It wasn’t her first tattoo. She knew the drill. Sarah took the papers, straitening and filing them away as Steve led them down the hall. “Have fun,” she called just as Typhanie came out of the bathroom.

Seeing the smirk and glimmer in her girlfriend’s eyes, Typhanie frowned. “What? What’d I miss?”

--

“Hey, Buck!’ Steve’s fist collided with the doorframe, making the brunette inside jump a foot in the air. He grinned before jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Got some customers for you if you’re interested.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, rising to his feet as Carol and Val stepped in. “Hi.” He was sheepish, obviously feeling bad for not noticing they were ready for him. “Um…come on in and we’ll talk about what you guys are lookin’ for.”

Across the hall was Steve’s room. He opened the door, propping it against the wall. “There’s two chairs there. If you want to wait and watch, you can. If not, you’re more than welcome to hang out up front and us come and get you.”

There was an awkwardness in the air. None of them really knew who wanted to go first and it seemed none were interested in making the first move. Y/N chuckled and said, “I’ll go first. You two want to wait up front?”

“Yeah! I saw the records and wanted to check those out, if you don’t mind,” Wanda said, already hightailing it out of the room.

--

Hope was quick to follow her. It had nothing to do with her wanting to be out of the room, Y/N knew that. It had everything to do with the fact that Wanda was the wild card of the group. Leaving her alone with two teenagers up front… No, Y/N definitely appreciated Hope going with her.

“Uh…guess that settles that.”

Y/N squeaked. She turned back to Steve, unable to fathom how she had forgotten that he had been in the room with her. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t have to tell me twice. I’ve heard some weird stories.” He gestured to the table as he sat on his stool, rolling to her side. “So – is this a group tattoo? Or each is getting their own thing?”

“A bit of both actually,” she explained, voice a little softer than before. “We’re all getting the semi-colon symbol.”

Steve had been reaching for his sketch book, faltering when he heard that. A lot of people got that symbol. He knew the reason behind it. Sparing a glance at her, Steve understood why she was so quiet. Instead of grabbing his sketchbook, he rolled the stool so he sat in front of her. On the table, she easily towered over him, but that was normal. Gnawing at the corner of his lip, Steve wasn’t sure what to say so he simply started with, “Hey.”

She looked up, meeting those pretty baby blues of his as he offered a small smile. “Hi.”

“You don’t have to go into detail if you don’t want, okay? This is about your comfort.” He noticed the way her shoulders dropped and smiled. There. That was what he wanted to see. “Do you just want the black ink or something else?”

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know. I figured the black ink was sort of party of it.”

Steve grabbed his sketch book. “It doesn’t have to be.” He took one of the pencils off the table and flipped to a spare page, tracing quick, rough strokes.

Y/N was amazed by the way he so easily moved the pencil, as if he knew exactly what stroke needed to go where. Her brain didn’t work like that. She wasn’t that creative when it came to artistic things. She tucked her hair behind her ear, sparing a small glance his way. Steve was concentrating, putting as much focus into this as if he were creating something completely extraordinary instead of a little tattoo. His brow was furrowed, pinched in the middle, and his teeth were worrying his lip.

He really wanted to make this right.

“We could do something like this.”

Y/N straightened, making herself focus on the paper as he turned it her way. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling when she saw the design. It was simple. Needing only a little bit of color. And it wasn’t so big or over the top that she couldn’t hide it for her job.

“I love it.” She turned back to him. The smile on her face made Steve proud of the creation even though it wasn’t anything fancy. It meant something to her. And that made him happy for her.

She shrugged off her jacket, setting it aside and turning her body back towards him. It wasn’t Steve’s first time seeing scars, nor would it be his last, but seeing those faint, risen lines on the inside of her wrist...it hurt. He could never imagine what had happened in her life to cause such a reaction, but he wanted to help her move forward now.

It was the least he could do.

“We’ll start with the black and then go to the watercolor,” he told her, spinning back towards his inks. He put a tray of them together, lining them up. “Sound good?”

“Uh…yeah.”

Steve chuckled. “Not having doubts, are you?”

Y/N shook her head. No, there were no doubts. She absolutely wanted this. “Not doubts,” she told him as he tested the pressure on the tattoo-gun. Setting it down, Steve turned back to her and started cleaning her wrist. “It’s just…I feel like I should make sure you’re properly informed.”

He laughed, running the razor over her skin and shaving away any little baby hairs that would get in the way. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“Well, yeah,” Y/N admitted, knowing she was probably being silly. Still, honesty was important to Y/N. It always had been. “But I still think you should know.”

Steve raised a brow, finally meeting her gaze. “What?”

“I’m…” Y/N sighed, reminding herself that it wasn’t that big of a deal. It shouldn’t be, right? Glancing down at the sketch between them, she admitted, “I’m your daughter’s counselor.”

--

Tag List:

@fullofmultitudesfullofshit​

@abundanceofcarolines​

@patzammit​

@peaches-roses-sins​

@thisartemisnevermisses​

@works-of-fanfiction​

@coldmuffinbanditshoe​

[testedtommyau]

Act 1, Scene 2, Part 2

Sorry for the long wait, hope this is worth it ^^

Warnings for this chapter: Usual blood/gore Flashbacks of child ab/se (physical) Verbal ab/se and shouting

“It bit me!”

Tommy watched out the corner of his eyes at the giants on the other side of the bars. Blood dripped off his chin from snarling lips, baring his teeth at those who dared enter his cell.

“The aggression is growing with each test; I don’t believe it’s going to get any easier.”

The group of giants looked towards Tommy. Only to be met with his cold gaze, pupils shrinking at the sight of those fowl beings.

“Does it need more punishment?”

Tommy winced at the word, it always brought pain. But he refused to let them use those sharp lines on him without fight.

“It’s only making it worse.”

The lock on the cell clicked as a giant walked inside, lips rose as he showed his growing fangs, threatening another bite.

-

Blood and bruises, the norm of each day. On the cold table he sat, bandages around the new mark that was soon to be added to his scars. As he grew the giants appeared less like giants, yet still stronger. But each day his internal strength to make it through was only to grow.

“Let’s get you back.”

He looked up to see the giant who unstrapped his legs from the table, hissing as he recoiled his legs closer. Knees against his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

“Can you not talk yet?”

His eyes were dull, staring forward, dead to the world around him as he numbed the pain surging through his body.

“Hey?” The giant snapped their fingers in front of Tommy’s face, eyes flashed to light as vengeful jaws clamped down. Blunt claws dug into flesh as screams pierced the air. The giant’s free hand grabbed Tommy by the neck and threw him off, sending him across the room and slamming into the wall. He fell to the ground with a thud and groaned, the giant clutching their arm as it bled heavily from the gashes deep in its flesh. Tommy quickly got to his feet and ran out the door, no plan, just run.

Run.

And run he did. His smaller body slipping past the giant’s grasps and bolting into the vents. Hands and feet pattering against the flooring. He could hear the giants shouting for him, it was so loud. Too loud. At the end of the vent, he kicked off the coverings, dropping down to the room it led to. It was like every other room, as if the torture was endless. He ran to the door, jumping up but to no success. He couldn’t reach the handle. Tommy backed up and wrapped his arms around himself, eyes darting around as tears trickled in the corners of them. He was alone but scared.

Benrey awoke in Tommy’s arms, head on his chest. They purred quietly at the soft rhythm of the man’s heartbeat.

“Purring there buddy?”

Benrey’s ears twitched under the helmet as they look up to Gordon, seemingly it’s just him and Benrey awake.

“Yeeah.” They replied drearily. Rubbing their eyes.

“You look pretty comfy there.” Gordon chuckled, Benrey smiled and nodded.

“Super comfy bro.”

Gordon smiled back; the smile only grew as they kept looking at each other.

“So um, what else can you do? With being an alien?” Gordon asked, Benrey’s eyes lit up.

“Want uh, some Benrey backstory eh?”

He nodded.

“Well uh, I got these.” They lifted their helmet and their hair poofed. Nearly covering down to their eyes. But also showing off their larger ears, they flap up and down to their will. Gordon stared at the ears as they wiggled, they were… Kinda cute.

“Oh and!” They put their helmet back on and changed the colour of their eyes.

“Shapeshifter bro.”

“That’s cool.” Gordon said, he probably should say more but it is not every day you see an alien and a shapeshifter. The compliment made Benrey’s cheeks blush a darker shade of blue, smiling. Tommy was lightly snoring, arm tightening around Benrey.

“He okay?”

“Yeah man, he always movin’ when he sleeps.”

“Heh, yeah? So uh, where’d you grow up? Being an alien and all.”

Benrey looked to Gordon, their eyes dimmed and looked down. Telling Gordon fully would rat out Tommy’s secret. But he doesn’t need the full story, right?

“Uh, got taken away as a lil spawn. Got dumped here for years.” Benrey said, nervously toying with their claws.

“And uh, just live here. But don’t wanna live here.”

Gordon stared at Benrey for a moment, almost shocked but as he looked at them… It made sense.

“Like, a prisoner?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s, like someone kept in one place all the time?”

“Uhh, yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Benrey was still smiling as they said this.

“But uh, had Tommy there, was best friend.” They smiled wider as they looked up at Tommy who was still snoozing.

“So, he was like, working here and you became friends?”

“Uh…. Yeah.” They lied. He seemed to believe it at least. Gordon’s eyes drifted to the two old men huddled together a few steps across from them.

“They know each other long?” He asked, Benrey turned their head to look and shrugged.

“Dunno, only spent time with the firecracker, Bubby.”

Gordon looked back at Benrey, waiting for an explanation but didn’t receive any. Instead, he found himself staring into Benrey’s eyes, taking more detail to the black eye with a yellow pupil, a deep scar going down it.

“We uh, should get going.” Gordon said, standing up to start heading to the next door. Benrey tilted their head but shrugged, gently shaking Tommy awake.

“Hm…” Tommy flinched at the feeling of Benrey’s hand on his chest, relaxing when he met their gaze fortunately.

“Yo bro, we gotta get goin’.” Benrey said as they pointed to Gordon who was in the process of waking up the older men. Tommy looked to Benrey’s face, noticing their eyes stayed fixated on Gordon with a soft smile creeping up on their face. It caused an unpleasant ache in the pit of Tommy’s stomach and a cramp in their chest. Still he was ever unsure of what was causing it, but it happened when Benrey was… happy around that Freeman guy.

“A-alright, lets g-go.” He finally replied, letting Benrey hop off his lap so he could get up himself.

-

Tommy rubbed his arms for friction, relieved to be out of the freezer room. He has decided that the cold was not for him.

“You okay Tommy? You’re shivering.” Gordon asked, which caught the other off guard. He paused for a moment and stared at the human while his thoughts processed. He noticed the uncomfortable look on his face.

“F-fine.” Was the best he could answer.

“Ya lookin’ cold bro.” Benrey piped in, wrapping one of their arms around Tommy, though it didn’t do much due to their height difference but the feeling of Benrey’s body was comforting enough.

“Gordon look out!!”

The three of them looked towards Coomer’s voice, a giant creature, Tommy guessed another escaped alien, lunged towards them. Sending the three to split off into separate directions.

“What the fuck is that!?” Gordon cried out, almost tripping over as he ran.

Benrey jumped to the wall and clung to the material with their claws, climbing up out of the creature’s way. Only to find it had targeted after them, its body slithering towards them with stubby legs dragging it at an unnecessary speed.

“Oh shit!” Benrey gasped, the mouth of the creature clamped down on the leg of Benrey’s pants but missing the leg itself, yanking them down with a squeal. Ass landing on the hard floor with a thud and their back to the wall as the alien snarled, rising up to attack but its plans faltered by Tommy tackling the creature to the ground, giving Benrey time to get up and run. And run they did.

“Get moving you fucking idiots!” Bubby called out as Benrey bolted to Gordon.

“But Tommy-“

“He can kick its ass, we gotta get goin’!” Benrey interrupted, tugging Gordon’s hand to get moving to the next room. The sound of Tommy’s grunting and the alien screeches hopefully indicating Benrey was right.

Benrey’s eyes scanned the room for an easy escape, though it was hard while Gordon was screaming at Dr Coomer to stop throwing grenades. What harm is a bit of explosives?

“What’s this do?” Benrey asked, pointing over to a lever. Gordon rushed over in his still panicked state, only looking back to see Tommy tackled into the room by the creature, his fists colliding with its eye. Causing it to shriek and back up, letting Tommy pounce on top of it again.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Bubby demanded.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

Gordon pulled the lever and noticed a ledge above start to move, it connected to two openings in the vents.

“We got to get up there!”

“Great work Dr Freeman!” Dr Coomer said.

Benrey looked back at Tommy while Gordon looked around, blood splattering across the floors. Tommy got up onto the creatures back and dug his claws into its flesh, Benrey hurried to Gordon to ensure he wouldn’t turn around and see. It would be rather suspicious as to why he now has claws.

“Got anythin’ bro?”

“I think these stairs will lead up to that one.”

There was indeed stairs, it was good enough for now. Benrey took Gordon’s hand again and ran up the stairs, finding Gordon was right.

Bubby and Dr Coomer kept watch for Tommy now that Gordon was out of his sight, with Dr Coomer popping the ping off another grenade and tossing it.

“Watch out!”

“Wh-what? HEY!” Tommy jumped off the alien before being collided with a grenade, however it missed the alien, but shrapnel hit some sides of it’s flesh.

“Why are you throwing grenades!?” Gordon called out from the top of the ledge, Benrey by his side. Tommy’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Benrey’s hand closed around Gordon’s.

“C’mon we got to get up here!”

“D-d-don’t tell me w-what to do!” Tommy shot back, getting back up and remembering his gun. Bubby and Dr Coomer already turned to follow Gordon’s command while he turned back to the alien readying to charge at him. Tommy cocked the gun and raised it, aiming.

“I’ve d-d-done this a thousand times, y-you’re no e-exception.” He muttered, oblivious to his words the alien snarled and ran at him, only to be halted by a bullet to the head.

“Yooo go Tommy!” Benrey cheered, sounding surprisingly close. He looked up to see the moving ledge, Gordon and Benrey on top of it looking down at him as it glided across the ceiling.

He better head up to join them.

It was hard to breathe, the heavy thud of his heartbeat and the dread of failure keeping him on the ground. It could also be the many electrical shock burns to his legs to the point he could not move without crying.

This wasn’t the end of it, if he does what he’s told. It ends in pain.

Does what he shouldn’t. ends in pain.

So why bother being what they want when both end in pain but one chances in getting out? He just has to try harder.

Tommy scraped the rock against the wall of the cell, making what he could best depict the imagery of the giants on it, then scratching them until his nails bled. If only he could do that to all of them, maybe he will. He was growing, maybe one day he can become a giant himself. He looked down at his healing legs, able to stand yet again but a touch on the raw flesh still caused pain. To which the giants took no care in whenever they’d yank him by the ankle.

Speaking of which, the all too familiar unlocking of the cell took Tommy’s attention. Two giants, one in white, one in blue. Foolishly they had left the other door open, if he could just reach it

“Let’s go.” The giant in white ordered, Tommy glared and limped towards the cell doors. Suddenly he clamped down on the giant’s leg, making him squeal before bolting out through the door.

Only to immediately black out.

Benrey and Gordon hopped off onto the other side, waiting for the others to join.

“So, Tommy seems pretty good at fighting.” Gordon said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah! He uh, pretty epic. He got good.”

Benrey’s smile stayed plastered on their face, even more so when they noticed how close the two were. They could feel Gordon’s body heat nearby, sending a little shiver down their spine. It was nice.

But it was short lived as Tommy hopped over next, shoving between the two of them. Blood all over his uniform again.

“Hey bro!”

Benrey wrapped their arms around Tommy, glad that he was safe. Tommy however stared at Gordon from the corner of his eyes, pupils narrowing as he held Benrey closer.

Gordon felt a cold shiver down his back, a gulp going down his throat.

“You, okay man?”

“F-Fine.”

“Right.” Gordon called out to Bubby and Dr Coomer. “Come on guys, get across.”

“I’m coming!” Bubby shouted back, jumping onto the ledge with Dr Coomer behind him. Dr Coomer got onto the other side without a hitch.

“You did that a lot faster than I did.”

“Easy as pie Gordon!”

“Now for Bubby.”

The four of them stood back to give Bubby some room.

“Here I come Gordon.” Bubby then missed the entrance as the ledge continued onward with him still on it.

“Uhhhh.”

His voice distorted out as it guided away.

“Hello Gordon! Is he alright?” Dr Coomer asked.

“Here I come Gordon, here I come Gordon.” And he guides past again, all eyes on him as he goes out of sight. Benrey and Tommy looked at each other then back at the entrance of the ledge, Bubby coming past one last time still repeating himself and finally made it to the other side. To an understandably confused Gordon.

Well, into the vent they go.

Tommy kept Benrey close to him, not wanting them to get lost. In front was Gordon directing Bubby and Dr Coomer where to go, with multiple routes and vent pipes it seemed rather easy to get lost. Though the sound of Bubby screaming for breath was not the most pleasant as he got caught by another barnacle. Tommy snuck past Gordon as he shot at the barnacle to free Bubby, shouting at everyone to watch where they were going. Tommy huffed, he knew where he was going, and he knew to not walk into the traps.

“Should we take out the other ropey suckers?” Benrey asked Tommy, he nodded and raised his own gun to another barnacle in their path and Bubby was nearing it like the other one.

“Tommy! Tommy!!”

No time to listen to the human, he fired at the barnacle, rendering it to a harmless mess of guts on the ground.

“Oh my god Tommy.”

“Great work Tommy!” Dr Coomer added.

“You are the smartest one here.”

Tommy felt his heart skip a beat, he turned around to Gordon who was heading over with a relieved smile on his face.

“You are the smartest one here, Tommy.” Gordon repeated, he scanned Gordon’s face for any hint of mockery but there was none to be found. Tommy felt the tension in his face soften as he stared at Gordon, feeling a warmth build in his chest at the compliment the longer he lingered to the words. Gordon took notice of Tommy’s calmer expression, watching the indented anger rolls on his forehead loosen and his pupils grew a little larger, his lips slightly parted as if he was processing what was happening.

Which he mostly was.

“This meat is attacking!” Bubby cried out, making a run for it and breaking the moment.

“Then just bite it bro!” Benrey replied, jumping down and clamping their teeth into the meat slab.

“The meat’s alive!?”

Tommy and Benrey followed along as Gordon now avoided the meat on the floor.

“The meat from the frozen good department has dangerous properties!”

So, Tommy was right to dislike that freezing room.

“What the fuck are we putting into the meat? What do we need with meat?” He questioned. Tommy raised an eyebrow at the scientist, shouldn’t he know? He was a human; they couldn’t be keeping stuff from their own kind, could they?

“Classified, Gordon!”

Classified? But isn’t it the humans that carried out experiments on those that were living?

“Classified? I think we are BEYOND the point of classification!”

He was off on another yelling fit, much to Tommy’s approval it was not directed towards Benrey this time.

“This company is defunct!”

“W-w-what does that mean?” Tommy whispered to Dr Coomer.

“Defunct! An adjective, for something to no longer be existing or functioning!”

Tommy blinked at him.

“I believe he’s saying that the company is no longer functional!”

“O-oh.” He looked back at Gordon, face red from his mini explosion.

“That’s good though, right? No more shitty cages.” Benrey whispered, their fingers gripping at Tommy’s sleeve.

“Y-Yeah, never again.” He replied.

-

“Oh, it’s brighter here!” Benrey hurried out the door where the lights were working better, Tommy took a hold of Benrey’s shirt collar and pulled them back to him.

“S-s-stop running o-off like th-that.” Tommy said.

“Sorry brooo.”

Tommy shook his head while Benrey grinned innocently.

Taking a few steps forward, Gordon observed the area. It seemed safe enough-

“M-Mr Freeman!”

Gordon felt Tommy’s hand on his shoulder as he yanked him back, a bloodied scientist with a headcrab latched on burst out from the glass window, colliding with the ground where Gordon had originally stood.

Dr Coomer and Bubby rushing in after the… whatever it was.

It took a moment for Gordon to come back from the rush of being yanked over so fast, it seemed to have the same effect on Tommy and Benrey as well as the three of them were huddled together, Gordon pressed against the wall by Tommy, with Benrey at their sides.

Tommy looked down and froze as he noticed it wasn’t just Benrey he was holding but Gordon as well. He thought the human would’ve moved away from him as soon as he was safe. But no, here the three of them were, eyes staring at each other.

“Rather cosy!” Benrey smiled, Tommy backed away in a flash and coughed into his fist. Gordon turned away to rub the back of his head. Benrey frowned up at them both as the warmth was gone from the two.

“I believe the threat is quite gone!” Dr Coomer announced, Bubby on his knees poking the corpse with his gun.

“That’s uh, nice.” Gordon sighed. He left to another room to search where to go next. Leaving Tommy and Benrey to stay in the main hall. Benrey’s eyes wandered around and saw another guard, at first a dread of fear sank in but was replaced with curiosity. The guard wasn’t recognisable, no one they’ve seen before. The said guard looked over at the two with their hand over a gun, but soon smiling and pulling their hand away.

“Hello?” Seemed to be a guy. The helmet covering most of their head, but their bright green eye and one discoloured eye stood out against their dark brown skin.

“Yoo, got uh, got my ID, proper guard.” Benrey lied, showing their passport, hoping they were being believable enough. Curious yellow eyes looked to the guard’s different looking eyes, feeling their smile widen to not feel alone in their looks.

“Oh! I got one too!” The guard brought out their own ID, Tommy stayed near Benrey and brought out his own.

“Here’s m-my passpo-“

“You don’t need to show him your passport!” Gordon yelled out, everyone turning to him as his face dropped when he noticed this wasn’t Benrey.

“Look Gordon! It’s officer Boper!” Dr Coomer read out the name on the ID photo. Not a name Tommy has ever heard before, he also was surprised to notice the guard was almost at eye level with him, it wasn’t normal to see other humans nearing his 7 foot height.

“Bit of a bloody mess we’re all in, eh?” Boper said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, it's uh, place went boom.” Benrey answered.

“Oh! You all look a bit ruffled up!” Boper walked over to take Benrey’s arm which they didn’t realise had blood on their sleeve, but Tommy quickly shoved past and in the process knocked Boper over onto his rear, fists balled up and inching closer to the guard.

A line of gunshots fired through the hallway, Dr Coomer and Bubby already out of the way but Benrey rushed to take Tommy’s hand and pull him down to the floor to avoid the line of fire, Gordon on the floor covering his head.

“What the fuck!?” Gordon cried out.

“Step the fuck back!” Another voice roared out, another guard. He stepped to Boper and helped him up, glaring at Tommy who was on the ground with his own gun at hand.

“Hey, hey I’m okay.” Boper reassured, taking the other guard’s face into his hands and placing a kiss on the cheek.

“I was a little out of line just coming forward like that.” He admitted with a nervous chuckle, muttering a sorry to Benrey. Tommy however was having none of it. Standing up and towering over the other guard beside Boper.

“Can we not fight each other!?” Gordon walked over and stood between the protective two. Benrey got up and said it was okay.

“Can we just, lower the weapons?” Gordon asked, his eyes looking into Tommy’s desperately.

God damn human.

“I’m terribly sorry for all that.” Boper chuckled. “When you’re in a dire situation where we’re all on the verge of death every second it does make your loved ones rather protective I must say.”

Loved ones? Tommy raised an eyebrow at them but was provided no explanation.

“So um… what’s your name?” Gordon asked the other guard.

“Stong.”

Okay, another guard neither Benrey nor Tommy have heard of before.

“We were trying to get out until you lot came in.” the one known as Stong glared.

“Honey we’re all stressed and scared.” Boper said, he took Stong’s hand into his own and squeezed it. Tommy’s eyes landed on the matching rings on their fingers, was that a human thing? Get matching rings?

“I found snacks!” Bubby shouted out, they all looked up and saw him on the higher floor.

“Oh nice!” Gordon hurried off to go get some snacks, Dr Coomer deciding to go with. Leave Benrey and Tommy with the other guards.

Boper looked back to Benrey, the two having wide eyes and bright smiles at each other.

“I haven’t seen you before mate, what department were you in?” He asked.

“Uhhhh! New, first day.”

“Oh really? We just joined this facility a few days ago.”

Stong and Tommy both stared at the two talking, Tommy could feel the relatable sense of protective anxiety radiating off Stong. It was strange.

“That’s uh, why I never seen ya bro?”

“Possibly!”

“I think they seem to get along.” Stong muttered awkwardly, trying to seem somewhat approachable. Though it’s a bit hard to when your first interaction is one threatening your ‘love’ and the other shooting you with a gun.

“B-Benrey’s a… Hopeful o-one.”

“Kind of need to be in situations like this…”

Tommy looked over to Stong, the familiar look that he’s given up but still holding onto hope lingered in his eyes. Stong’s hair was visible due to him not having a helmet and done up in a bun, his own dark skin was a little lighter than Boper’s and had a little patch of chin hair, scars going down his right cheek, most likely had more under the uniform much like Tommy and Benrey did. He seemed around the same height as Gordon, not as wide but still sturdy.

“They’re um.” Stong pointed to Benrey, noticing their blue skintone.

“D-don’t.” Tommy glared.

“They’re a much nicer alien then the lot we’ve been dealing with.”

“O-Oh. Right. Hmm…” Tommy looked at Benrey again, Boper smiling at them the whole time. Nothing indicating that he has any intentions to hurt them, and Stong wasn’t saying anything bad about them either.

How is it that now three humans do not know what this prison was doing? It must be some trap.

“So how did an alien become a guard?” Boper asked, Benrey gulped and their skin paled. Looking over to Tommy for an answer. Boper raised an eyebrow and looked to him as well.

“Somethin’ wrong mate?”

Before he could come up with an answer Boper’s pupils shrunk as he whipped out his gun.

“Honey get down!”

Stong, trusting Boper, ducked in a second as a headcrab pounced. Boper firing as it shot through the alien, its body landing on the floor with a wet thud. Giving his gun a twirl, Boper slipped it back into its holder.

“Sorry about that, be bloody shit if that got either of ya. Seein’ what it does to the other guys.”

“Yeaah but, they kinda sucked anyway.” Benrey muttered, Tommy couldn’t help but feel a small smile creep up the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, ain’t this a beauty?” Boper said as he picked up the dead headcrab, observing it. Stong quickly took it from him and tossed it back to the ground.

“We don’t know how safe those are even when dead.” He warned, Boper rolled his eyes and little but nodded.

“You know what, fuck you all!”

Boper, Stong, Tommy and Benrey turned to see Gordon storming out of the room Bubby and Dr Coomer had gone to get snacks, his steps heavy as he tried to head for another room.

“Little bitch baby crying he can’t have his fucking chips!” Bubby yelled out after him, kicking the ground beneath. Benrey jogged over to Gordon, their legs going fast to keep up with him.

“Hey, hey bro? What’s up?” Gordon ignored them and kept walking. “Got uh, got a passport to go in there? Please stop?”

“For the last time I don’t have my FUCKING PASSPORT!”

Benrey jolted back from the outburst, spluttering their words trying to calm the situation.

“So don’t FUCKING ask me again!”

Gordon’s words spat out like lava, blood boiling through his veins as his eyes burned into Benrey’s.

“I-I…”

Gordon turned heel with a huff, leaving Benrey to watch him disappear. Silence plagued the room while no one knew what to say, Tommy’s eyes flickered to the doorway the human had left to and back to Benrey.

“Bit of an overreaction, eh?” Boper asked.

“’S like that a lot.” Benrey muttered, they looked up with a hopeful gleam and went to go to the doorway but was abruptly held back by Tommy.

“H-He might y-y-yell again.”

Benrey stayed quiet but kept looking at the door.

“W-why do you b-b-bother with him?” Tommy asked, Benrey looked up at him with wide eyes. Tears prickled the corners. The hand on their shoulder tightened as Tommy’s brows knitted together in concern.

“I did with you.” Was all Benrey replied as they broke out of his grip and hurried after Gordon. Leaving Tommy speechless.

-

Lights flickered and bloodstained walls no longer holding as much of an eerie sense to Gordon’s eyes. Still unsettling of course, but the constant dread of death replacing the intensity of seeing such fluids everywhere. Not how he ever expected his life to turn out.

Benrey finally catches up with him, the patter of their running slowed as they came to a halt behind Gordon.

“Uh, sup bro?”

A heavy sigh from Gordon.

“What do you want?”

Benrey gulped, they hadn’t thought this far.

“No mad? Don’t be so angry?”

Gordon groaned and sat down against the wall, face in his hands. Watching, wondering what they have to do to make things okay. Tommy liked to sit down and do nothing for a bit, maybe he’d enjoy someone to sit and do nothing with him as well. So Benrey plonked themselves down next to Gordon, yellow eyes glowing amongst the flickering ceiling lights. Benrey kept an eye out as Gordon kept in his position. Quiet sniffles behind the gloved hands could be heard but Benrey tried to avoid saying anything, not wanting to be yelled at again.

Minutes of silence fill the gaps between the two, Benrey’s occasional hums breaking it but there was no objection from Gordon. Finally releasing the hold of his face, Gordon looked down at Benrey. Their claws fidgeting together while the helmet covered their head.

Suddenly they look up, catching Gordon’s eyes.

“No mad anymore?”

Gordon felt his cheeks heat up. But it was a comforting warmth.

“I guess.”

Benrey smiled wide and got up.

“Let’s go? Let’s go? Passport free, free entry.”

Gordon chuckled and got up, Benrey turned heel and went back towards the exit until they were stopped by Gordon.

“Hey, wait a minute.”

“Huh? Wha?”

“I’ll give you my passport.”

Benrey perked up and looked back to Gordon who had a smug grin on his face as he brought out a clearly fake piece of paper from his pocket. Benrey smiled and skipped over, happy to play along as now Gordon was in on it.

“Right here.”

“Lemme see.”

Using their tippy toes, Benrey looked up at the paper, seeing the useless scribbles on it and muttering to themselves.

“See? Says Gordon.” He lied.

“Hm…”

Benrey ponders.

“This is a receipt.”

Gordon’s cheeks puffed in a sudden urge to chuckle.

“What? No, no, no it says Gordon Freeman.”

“This is uh, huh, you asked for mayo?”

Gordon started walking off, chuckling along with Benrey who was walking beside him. Smirking that they’ve managed to make Gordon smile again.

“Mayonnaise sir?”

Back to the main room, Boper and Stong kept together while Tommy stood alone against the wall. Bubby and Dr Coomer arguing about what was objectively the best crisp flavour.

“Why’d you ask for mayonnaise?” Benrey kept giggling, Tommy’s eyes snapped to the two returning. Though he kept to himself.

“Oh you’re back!” Boper exclaimed, Stong walked over to Gordon.

“Despite some…” He looked over to the two arguing elderlies. “Difficulties with communication. Would it be helpful if we were to come with you?”

“Oh! Yeah man, it’d probably be nice to have some more…” Gordon looked at the team with Stong. “Sane members.”

“I think they’re fun.” Boper argued, Benrey now at his side and comparing their helmets.

“Do you know where we need to go now?” Gordon asked Stong, he nodded and walked him to the doorframe at the end of the room. Behind them, Tommy followed.

The end of the room led to a steep drop, near endless drop. Tommy raised his eyebrow; at what logic would someone create a room like this? By the pale colouration on Gordon’s face, he assumes the human agrees that his own species sucks at building design.

“I think that’s the only way up at this point.”

“Great…”

“Gordon be careful!”

The shout was near enough to cause Gordon to jump, which could’ve ended in what Dr Coomer was aiming to avoid.

“That’s a big drop! But I think we can make it!”

Benrey looked down and popped their lips.

“Think so?”

“Well of course you can Benrey, you’re like. A magic alien or something.” Gordon muttered.

“If you can get a good enough run, I think it’s possible.” Boper added. “But I won’t lie mate, I’m not too keen on trying and failing.”

“Great. That makes me feel so much better.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow at Gordon. “H-How would that make you feel b-b-better?”

Before Gordon could question what Tommy had asked, the shatter of class took the attention of each member.

“Fuck!” Bubby cried out, headcrabs and peeper puppies sprung through cracks in the wall and doorways towards the team.

“Looks like we don’t have a choice!” Gordon shouted. In a blink of an eye Dr Coomer already made the jump.

“Coomer!!”

“Oop?” Benrey looked down and saw Dr Coomer gripping onto the ladder, giving them all a thumbs up.

“Uh, mate ya’ll might wanna get a bloody move on!” Boper pulled out his gun and started shooting, Stong against his back firing the other direction.

“Th-they’ll come after us while we’re on the l-l-ladder!” Tommy objected, not keen on repeating the water incident with a dear certain death drop if someone other than Benrey were to try and go after him.

Stong fired onto a headcrab aiming for Tommy. “You all go, we’ll hold them off!”

Tommy looked back with wide eyes at the two humans hurrying to the back, keeping the aliens at bay. Willing to risk never getting out or even their own lives just to keep the team safe?

“But what about you two?” Gordon asked, already being dragged by Benrey to hurry.. Boper smiled back at him, and locked hands with Stong.

“Don’t worry about us mate! We’ll find a way back as soon as we deal with these fuckers.”

Without arguing any further, Benrey bolted for it and jumped. Only to miss the ladder and smack their face into the wall. Dropping downward.

“B-Benrey!” Tommy cried out.

“There’s no way that killed him.”

Sweet voice floated up and the sound of Benrey’s singing got louder. They floated to the ladder, nose bleeding.

“Made it!”

“Why didn’t you do that in the fucking first place!?” Gordon snapped, Tommy sighed with relief regardless.

“Get a fucking move on!” Bubby snapped, pushing the two out of the way and nearly earning a gun to the face from Tommy. The grumpy old man made a run for it and jumped, Benrey reached out and caught Bubby’s hand to pull him to the ladder’s steps.

Now only Gordon and Tommy.

“M-Mr Freeman you sh-should hurry up.” Tommy advised, as if it wasn’t obvious. But Gordon was shaking.

“I don’t know if I can do this!”

“Well, you’re gonna have to!” Boper shouted out, he and Stong getting aliens at every direction.

“I’ll catch ya bro!”

Gordon locked eyes with Benrey and breathed heavily. His heart racing in his chest.

“One. Two. Three. Gordon!”

Tommy raised an eyebrow as the man sprinted. Whatever helped him do it he guessed. Gordon screamed out until he gripped the ladder, laughing in relief as he climbed up with the others.

“We’ll meet you sometime!”

“Take care of yourselves.” Stong added to Tommy, he took a deep breath and ran. Gunshots and aliens screaming behind him as he took his jump. Realising a grunt as he collided with the ladder but kept a firm grip.

“Come on bro!” Benrey called out from the top, Tommy looked up at them and nodded. Before he could though, he looked behind his shoulder at Stong and Boper, firing, smiling together. It filled his chest with familiar warmth that he was unsure of still. But they promised to meet up again sometime.

Though it wasn’t as if he was thrilled to have more humans in his life.

The lights were a blur, dizzying as they fizzed around Tommy’s vision. Groaning in pain with a pounding headache, he sat up and rubbed the sorest spot on his head where he must have been hit.

“Get up.”

Yellow eyes snapped up to the voice, anger replacing his pain. Blood boiling at the mere sight of these disgusting creatures that bore no heed to his warnings to stay away. With a wobble, Tommy stood up and bolted towards the giant.

The giant held up a button and pressed it, Tommy felt waves of unbearable pain shoot through his body via his neck. A blood curdling scream erupted from his throat as he dropped to the ground trembling. He could hear the cracking of electricity, desperately he grasped the source of the pain, a thick black collar around his neck.

“You really think you can get that off?” The giant mused, halting the effects of the collar. Tommy sobbed as he tried to tug it off to no success.

“If you lash out at us.” The giant pressed the button again, causing another scream of agony. It turned it off.

“If you try to escape.”

Another zap.

Tommy’s eyes were filled with tears, unable to see as he shut them tightly and cried. Gasping for air when it finally stopped.

“You’ll learn soon enough.”

He was again left alone, locked in his cell.

[gloriousprofessorhan]

white shirt

you’re drenched wet under the rain in a thin white shirt, and Chanyeol lend you his jacket.

re-upload “white shirt”, on AFF 2018

It’s barely 5 pm and you finished your shift at the coffeeshop where you work part time. You fold your apron and neatly stack it above some text books you left on your working place locker. You took your bag and bid yourself goodbye to Suho, that handsome co-worker you like, you might not in loev with him, but you always think that Suho is the rightest person anyone should be in love with. his looks is unquestionable, he also has the kind-hearted smile, and manners, he looks like a dreamy knight riding a white horse. 

You pushed the glass door and leave the coffeeshop. There was sunshine before the rumble heard and the sky turn grey.

“Damn…” you murmured while increasing your speed, mentally cursing the distance of the bus stop which is two blocks away from your workplace.

You feel a drop on your shoulder, another one at the top of your head.

“No, no, please hold on a little longer, sky…” you mumbled. But universe is not on your side, the rain starts pouring and you got to run.

Your weren’t drench when you got into the bus stop, but the white shirt you wear is sticking to your skin, it made the skin visible in your shoulder and you gotta hug yourself tight to make sure no one saw the front part of your body.

Not many people waiting at the bus stop but it still make you nervous as you feel the cloth sticking more at your back.

Shit.

Shit.

You clenched your jaw, partly because your shivering from the cold weather, the rest is because you’re anxious.

Suddenly you feel someone throw a piece of heavy fabric to your back.

You turned around and saw a guy. Tall, got a round eye and wavy hair.

“Wear that.” He murmured. His voice is not heavy but it’s deep and a little husky.

You were hesitating at first but it’s not like you want to reject it. In fact, you feel that you’ve been saved.

“Thank you.” You nod at him while slipping your arms inside the sleeves. The jacket is way too big for you. Indeed, because he’s so tall. Like 6 ft tall, or maybe more.

“My bus.” He pointing with his chin.

Ah you got a different route with him.

“Your jacket…”

“Wear it, give it back to me later.”

“But… where can I find you??”

He turned his gaze towards the building behind the bus stop. Art University.

“O, Okay…” you stretch a smile for him and he step into the bus, “shit. Who’s his name?”

-

The denim jacket is neatly folded and very clean. You handwash it instead of put it together with your other laundry. That’s how you show him how thankful you are. And today, after campus you’re planning on going to his university to give it back to him.

You jump off at the bus station and look around, thinking how you could find him if you didn’t even know his name. what if he doesn’t have class today? You shrugged your shoulder and thinking that you gotta try first.

You enter the big gate and walk around a bit. You saw people with unique styles studying here. There’s a girl with metalic purple hair walking with a guy carying guitar. Then you saw a group of people sitting on a grass while drawing something. And a couple sitting on a bench, the guy wearing a bright red colored sweater and soft pink trousers while the girl is in a bold long jacket.

You remember the guy from yesterday wearing the denim jacket outside a plain black shirt and pair of jeans.

“he’s quite simple compare to other students.” You murmured. And after few minutes walking around, you didn’t get a clue about his whereabout, so you decided to wait at the bus station.

You’re walking outside and passing an aisle before you reach the bus stop.

Then you saw him.

You saw him with two other guys, smoking at the aisle.

One guy realising your presence. He’s rather short compare to others but he got the whitest blonde ever, his face is like cartoon character because he wears some eye make up. 

“What you lookin’ at, doll?” he asked. It made the guy who lend you a jacket turned around.

“I—uh,” your eyes met that denim jacket owner eyes, “hi.”

“Ow, she knew Chanyeolie…” the white blonde guy smirks.

“Leave her alone, Baek.” Chanyeol throw the buds to the ground and step on it.

“She’s cute.” Baek sneered and elbowing another guy beside him.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Chanyeol turned around and left the gang.

“You have a girlfriend??” another guy chimed in, “how come I didn’t know?”

“Do I have to report anything to you, Lay?” Chanyeol scoffed, “bye losers.”

He suddenly put his arms around your shoulder and drag you away.

“Sorry.” He murmured, “That was the easiest way to make you safe from those assholes.”

“Are they, uh, your friends?”

“Yeah, classmate in college.” Chanyeol nodded, “better stay away from them… they’re bad boys.”

“Does it means that you’re bad boy too?” you asked, “because you’re friends with them.”

He chuckles, “good point.” He stop for a while then nodded, “yeah, I kind of one of them, so…”

You smiles too, “oh, uh, this is your…”

“My jacket, thanks.”

“No, I thank you.” You said, “it saved me.” You paused, “you, you saved me.”

You want to believe that you saw a pink blush on his cheek but he hide it with a crisps laughter, “you made it sounds like big deal.”

“It is.” You nodded.

Then he stopped and looking at your clothes, “another white shirt? Didn’t you learn from mistakes?”

You’re looking down at your clothes, “oh, it’s actually… I’m working at a coffeeshop, and this is my uniform.”

“Then wear something inside.” He scoffed.

“I am wearing something inside.” You almost rolled your eyes.

“What? A bra?”

You gotta hold yourself from choking.

Then he clicking his tongue, an exclamation of disbelief.

“Well…” you shift your gaze into something far away, “it’s kind of uncomfortable to wear a tank or so.” You stopped, “ugh why am I even explaining this to you?” 

“You also don’t bring jacket?” he slaps your small bag.

You’re gulping, and you know yourself better than anyone. So yes, you’re clumsy, forgetful, and unprepared, as always.

“I, uh…”

“This is rainy season and your work require wearing a thin white shit, I mean shirt.” His face flat and judgy, “you like exposing yourself?”

“I’m not!” you’re flinching from how disrespectful he is.

“Your behavior says otherwise.”

“Whatever,” you push your fist which held the handle of the paper bag to his stomach, like punching him, “here, your jacket, Chanyeol-ssi!”

“Oh, you knew my name.”

“Yeah from your friends.”

“You remember it…” he smirks, “to be fair, what’s yours?”

You didn’t answer yet you left him sneering behind you.

-

“Welcome t—“ the words stuck in your gut when you saw Chanyeol get into the coffeshop with the white blonde guy.

“Oh! Chayeolie girlfriend!” Baekhyun, the white blonde guy shouts. He made your co-worker, Suho, your crush since the day one of working, creased his eyebrows.

“You have a boyfriend?” Suho asked.

“Hey, babe, two iced americano.” He smirks, “please.”

“What did you just called me?” you’re glaring at him.

He shows you his childlike smile which actually so damn attractive before went closer to your ear, “not my fault that I don’t know your name…”

“Oh, oh, Chanyeolie, you can’t kiss her! She’s woking! You gotta get her fired.” Baekhyun laughing behind him.

“Can’t help myself.” Chanyeol pretend to put his hands up, “Aren’t she so pretty?” he turned to Suho, “don’t flirt with my girl.” He said while tapping his card.

“Chanyeol-ssi!”

“See, she calls me formally when she’s mad.” Chanyeol winked at Suho. 

“She’s hot.” Baekhyun chimed in and Chanyeol smack him.

“You said that again about her, I’ll cut your tongue, Baek.”

And Baekhyun just giggled.

He was waiting at the counter while you brew his orders, his friend is smoking outside.

“You brought jacket today?” he asked when he saw the grey sky outside.

“None of your concern.”

“You prefer to be a display for some masher out there?”

You lift your gaze, mad at him, “sir, please, you got—“

He took off his flanel shirt and throw it to you, “wear that.”

“ I don’t need—“

“Hey, go make my coffee, miss,” he said, “does it always take this long for a drink?” he raised his voice on purpose so you can’t argue him

-

“Where’s your shirt?” Baekhyun asked whenChanyeol went outside with two coffees in his hand.

Chanyeol doesn’t replied.

“She’s not your girlfriend, is she?” Baekhyun sips his coffee.

“Hm.”

Baekhyun snickered.

“But I like her.”

-

The rain pouring and you just sit inside the locker room, staring at the red gingham flanel shirt in front of you.

You brought an umbrella today, but listen to him asking you a caring question with his unsympathetic tone strangely make your heart beat faster.

So you wear that shirt. And leave the umbrella behind.

When the shirt hug your body, you can’t help but smelling the musky trail from it, the strong manly fragrance mixed with his natural body scent, made you inhaled deeper.

“Damn, he smells like the ocean.” You murmured.

“You got a bold type of guy, I see.” You startled when Suho get into the locker room.

“Pardon?”

“Your boyfriend… I didn’t know you’re into some kind of bad boys…?”

“He’s… he’s not—“

“He’s not a bad boy?” Suho raised his eyebrows, “oh, I’m sorry, I judged him by appearance… sorry…”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You smiles, “it’s fine.”

-

Chanyeol stops in front of a store, he tilt his head in front of a mannequin that standing inside the glass window wearing a nice leather jacket.

“Pretty…” he murmured.

“Looking for something for your girlfriend? Come in, we’re having price reduction.” A shopkeeper greet him.

“Uh, no, I just…’

“See that leather jacket? It’s new collection and we only have one left because it looks expensive but actually very affordable.”

“Really?”

“Yup, and if you have your student card with you, we’ll give you discount!”

-

Chanyeol hold a paper bag filled with the leather jacket and feel stupid afterwards.

“I mean, what for?” he murmured, “why?”

“Chanyeol?”

He turned a saw you.

“Oh, what a coincidence…” you said, “your shirt…”

He’s looking at you, wearing the white shirt with your bright blue knit outter.

“You… wear jacket…” he murmured.

“Yeah, haha…” you awkwardly laughs. “uhm, your shirt…” you extend your arm to give him his shirt but then he also stretched his arm.

“Here.” he said.

“W-what is it?”

“Jacket.”

“Huh?” you’re confused.

“I bought you… jacket…” now you swore you saw his ear getting red.

“You bought me a jacket??”

“Take it!” he look away.

You stays immobile for few second before replied, “no.”

“Ugh, come on, just take it! It’s strange enough that I suddenly buy a girl jacket. This is so not me.” He inhaled, “alright, forget it, I’ll return this—“

“I don’t want you to stop bugging me.”

“huh?” he raised his eyebrows.

“If I accept the jacket, you’ll stop coming to me bugging me about my white shirt.”

He didn’t replied, yet his round eyes staring at yours. “you… want me to keep bugging you…”

“Because I like it.”

He scoffed. “you…”

“Keep that.” You push the paper bag in his hand away from you and about to stepping away when he suddenly drag you while rising his hand to stop a cab.

-

You arrived at his flat. A small but comfortable two rooms flat. You. In some guy’s house. But strangely you feel… safe?

Maybe you’re not safe, maybe you want whatever scenario your mind is cooking right now. And when he pushed you to the wall like somewhat cheesy novels you never read, and he breathed right in front of your face, you smell that minty candy mixed with the acidic from smoking.

And it only brought the sinner in you.

You want that lips crashing yours.

You want this bad boy to screw you side to side.

“Damn it.” He hissed, “I’ve been thinking about you since that day.”

You couldn’t say anything beside, “that day…?”

“That day you were panicking, you were so clumsy, so stupid for wearing a thin white shirt on rainy day… I can’t help but wanting to—argh.”

Then you realised, he’s not that sweet guy you’re always attracted to, not Suho kind of guy.

But there’s day when you got to accept your guts in a truest way. You might want the knight in shining armor kind of guy, but what if your heart beating for that villain on a dark horse? Problem is you know you want that villain more. A cute villain who can’t even express his feeling of wanting to protect you that day.

“How can you walk around in white shi—“

You pull his face and land your lips on his.

You hear a small gasp before he gave up and kiss you back.

Yeah, that minty candy mixed with hint of smoke smack your mouth but beyond that is how his plumpy lips devouring yours.

You can’t believe yourself that you kiss an oddball, in his house.

But it’s too late to pretend that you don’t want him. And kisses after kisses you’re already full of pictures of him, but when he pull away just to tilt and bend himslef further to reach your neck…

“If you kiss my neck, my resistance will crumble.” You said.

“I’d gladly take care of that.” He whispers and pressed his lips on the vein in the crook of your neck. And there your finger couldn’t resist the musky scent wavy hair near your jaw, your fingers carding it, keep it closer to you and his delicate lips drawing trails.

Now only the matter of time before it happens.

His kisses becoming more needy and urgent, hands slides down your waist, pulling it closer to his body. And a small gasp slipped out of your lips when you feel somethings growing hard down there.

You pull yourself away to search for his eyes, and when you met his gaze, he’s smiling. Your eyes drawn to the dimples on his cheek and you scoffed. Is he really that villain in a dark horse? Because he looks cuter than any guy you ever met.

“Tell me what you want…” he inaudibly said it and that just sexy. He talks without a sound is sexy? You’ve gone mad for sure.

“I want you.” That’s the only answer you can think about.

He leans while caressing your sides, then he caught your wrist and drag you somewhere. You thought he’s gonna throw you to his bed but no, he brought you to his bathroom.

Bathroom sex? That’s naughty.

But the fact that he threw you under the shower and turn it on got you gasping from the cold water.

“those white shirt is a sin…” he murmured, “I fantasized about it ever since…” he turned the shower off and his thumb running on your cheek, “look at you, baby…”

He made you facing the mirror, now that you’re drenched you could see your skin, and your dark colored bra is see through the fabric. You saw his big palms roaming around your body. Flatened your stomach, caressing your arms.

He suddenly unhooked your bra, “can we let this friend go?”

You never left the eye contact with him through the mirror, so you nod.

“Help me?” he burried his face on your neck while you unbuttoning your shirt. “keep the shirt…” he whispers.

You unhooked the straps and with a bit of effort, the bra finally gone.

“Fuck…” his hands cupping your breast through the fabric, searching for your nips, and you oddly feel prouder of yourself.

You’re proud because you’re able to make a man as atttractive as him seems to be head over heels over you.

“Ah…” moan escaped as you feel his thumb and index finger twisting your nips, “Chanyeol…”

“Bed?”

You bite your lips while nodding.

Your pants gone, along with his t-shirt and jeans, and he’s now above you, elbow propping himself while he kisses your jaw, neck, down to your chest and now taking your breast in his mouth. Still with the shirt fabric in between.

That’s just darn sexy, and it makes you go bolder. You circled his waist with your leg, let your sensitive parts feel his buldge, and make him breathing heavily everytime there’s a friction down there.

“Babe…” he warned you.

“What?” you whining, “I want it.”

“I want it too…” he kissed you again, “but I want it to last long… I want to feel you longer…” he says.

His voice just brought heat into your core. “get inside me now, or I’ll go down for you.

“no, no don’t go down on me, I want to—“

“Then get inside me now, Chanyeol!”

he chuckles on your assertive voice, “can’t wait a little longer?”

“No, can not.”

He push his briefs down and you gasped.

“That’s… quite a size…”

He smirks, looking proud of his length down there. “can you take ‘em all at once?” he’s so cocky and you like that.

“I don’t know… try me?”

He inserted himself inside you not in the most gentle way.

“AH!” you screams, “be gentle!”

“I did it on purpose cause I wanna hear you screamin’…” he bite your shoulder.

“You… ah,” he thrust you slowly but his size got you breathless for a moment.

“You good?”

“Slowly…”

he pumped you slowly until you adjusted with his size better.

“Can I go hundred?” he whispers to your ear.

“Uh-huh…” and then next is you cursing and praising God at the same time between the short breathe. All you hear is skin slapping skin, the sound of him grunting, his urgencies of searching for your skin to be kissed. Until the wave of orgasm came nearer.

“Chanyeol take me from behind.” This position take you to your peak easier, without realising that this position is also his favorite to ended the game.

“You near?”

You nodded.

“You’re so unromantic…” he blabbing, “how can I kiss you when you cum in this position?”

“Oh shut it, kiss me later!” you said, “now fuck me.”

He laughs, never knew he’s met a girl like you.

After few deep thrusts, you release a long satisfied moan, and few more low thrust and he detached himself from you while cumming on your back.

“Did you just…?”

he took the white shirt which now completely unbutton and wipe his cement from your back with it, “I’ll wash it for you… don’t worry.” He said while pulling you inside the blanket.

You could only smile while he pull you closer.

“Now we’re dating, okay?” he suddenly said.

“We do?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes, “don’t flirt with that guy with a rich vibe, co-worker of yours again.”

“Suho?”

“I don’t care who’s his name…” he said, “but damn, even his name is handsome. Fuck you Suho.”

“Hey! What did he do to you?” you scold him.

He smiles and kiss your forehead, “I really like you… that’s why.”

“Sooo… I’m your girlfriend now?”

he pulled away to look at your face and thinned his lips and showed his dimple, “yes!”

You kissed that dimples, “okay, I like that.”

“Now you can take the jacket I bought you, because I’d still gonna bug you out everyday… since you’re my girlfriend.”

“Okay, deal.” You nodded inside his embrace, “but I can’t promise you to wear a tank under my white shirt.”

“No, it’s okay, don’t wear it if it’s uncomfortable for you… especially when we have a date…”

“What about it?” you asked.

“Always wear a white shirt in our date…” then he leaned down and whispers to your ear, “with a strapless bra.”

[bubblywrites]

Running From A Name Chapter 1

Summary:

A person is nothing without a name. However, (Y/n) must abandon hers.

(Y/n) is running away with her younger siblings to Naples to escape a dark past. She's abandoned everything she has held dear in Sicily, including her name for the safety of herself and her siblings. She now goes by the name Alma. On her way to seek refuge with an old family friend, (Y/n) runs into a young boy named Bruno Buccellati. Although he is involved with one of the most dangerous mafias in Italy, (Y/n) finds herself drawn to the boy. She forms a close bond with him. But when (Y/n's) past begins to resurface after years of hiding in Naples, she has no choice but to rely on the help of the young gangster she befriended.

A/N:

First off, I just wanna say that I by no means shape or form condone abuse. If you are a victim of abuse, I truly hope you find the guidance you need to get through your situation or recover. I will bold all scenes with hints of abuse to prevent any of you from feeling uncomfortable.

This story takes place before the events of VA and might lead into later on. The reader and Bruno are 13 at the start of this. With this story you have a fake name. Your real name will serve as a super important plot device later. So throughout the story you will be referred to as Alma with the occasional (Y/n). 

Bile built up in (Y/n's) throat. She bit her lip to keep down the pasta Doc gave her for lunch. Her eyes shot open and beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. (Y/n) balled her hands into fists to stop her shivering. But her attempts were futile as Dino ran his cold, clammy fingers down her body and through her hair. (Y/n) felt naked under his touch. She had to stop moving. If she did anything to upset Dino, he would harm her. (Y/n) took a shaky breath and swallowed her screams and vomit down.

“I have to do this or he will never let her free.” (Y/n) thought to herself. Dino ran his index finger down (Y/n’s) cheek. He pulled back her hair to whisper in her ear. “Your power serves me or she will die.”

“AAAHHHH! DON’T TOUCH ME!." Alma swatted invisible hands away from her body. Her skin paled and her eyes bulged. Drops of sweat rolled down her back and forehead. The cold night air stung her lungs. No matter how many sharp breaths she took, Alma could not breathe.

“HEY KID CALM DOWN! Your thrashing is gonna make the boat capsize.” The sailor scolded. Alma put her hand to her chest, blinking several times.

“I’m okay. It was just a nightmare.”

“And stop that kid’s screaming.” The sailor complained. After a few deep breaths, Alma began to register the sounds around her: The wind howling, waves crashing against each other, and the cries of her baby sister, Isabella. Alma shook away the rest of her panic and inched towards Isabella. Isabella’s large tears plopped onto Alma's hoodie as she rocked her. Even though Alma cooed and sang to her, Isabella would not calm down.

“I said make that kid stop crying.” The sailor spat.

The sailor was a burly man who had hair growing from every orifice of his body. His movements were sluggish and his eyes were bloodshot from his hours on the boat. Alma was certain that if she or her siblings had any more outbursts, he would throw them overboard.

“I’m trying. She’s just really upset.” Alma whispered. “She’s upset ‘cause of your damn screaming.” The sailor's voice was laced with irritation. Alma bit her lip to hold back a retort. She couldn't blame the man for complaining, but that did not stop her from wanting to slap him.

“You’d think this guy would show us some mercy. I wish Doc would’ve sent someone else to help me.”  Alma let out a frustrated sigh. She looked down at the two sleeping children in the boat. The older one, Miguel, was five, and the younger one, Emilio, was two. They were both her brothers. Alma put Isabella down to wrap the light, cotton blankets around the toddlers. After she did so, she went back to rock Isabella to sleep.

It took twenty minutes for Isabella to calm down. Alma turned to the sailor to ask him for the time. He grunted at her. “Its four in the mornin’.”

“How much longer will it take to get to Naples?” “Five more hours. So that means we’ll be there around nine somethin’ in the mornin’.”

Alma slouched in her seat, sinking her head low. She tucked her arms into her hoodie to shield herself from the cold night breeze. She picked her head up, only to make eye contact with the sailor. She gulped, afraid that he would yell at her again. However, his face softened and his eyes filled with pity. “I’m sorry ‘bout earlier. I'm just tired from this damn boat ride. We’ve been on the water for four hours now.”

Alma was taken aback by the sailor’s sudden kindness. She waited too long to give a response, making him frown. Alma brought her fist up to her mouth as she cleared her throat. “Its no problem. I understand that you are tired. You didn’t have to do any of this for us. I really appreciate it.” The sailor stared at Alma for a moment before he spoke.

“You don’t have to tell me, but what's a little girl like yourself doing traveling all the way from Sicily to Naples?” He pointed his chin at Alma’s siblings, “Especially with toddlers and a baby with you. Where are your parents? Is Doc your guardian or somethin’?”

Alma's shivers were no longer from just the cold. The sailor had every right to know why he had to transport her and her siblings. However, she could not find the words to explain her situation. Her reflection on the events that lead up to this boat ride to Naples caused her eyes to water.

“Drop it. Forget I asked. Try to get some sleep.” “Its fine. I’m not tired anymore.” “There’s no point in staying awake and shivering all night. At least pretend to try and fall asleep.” The sailor smiled softly at her. Alma let a small smile creep onto her face, matching his expression. She picked up Isabella and made her way to Miguel and Emilio. She moved under the blankets with Isabella in hand, snuggling between the two boys. Alma cradled Isabella and closed her eyes. Soon enough, sleep captured Alma.

Alma squinted as sunlight beamed into her eyes. She wiped the grogginess from her eyes and took in her surroundings. The warm Italian sun blazed onto her skin, the cries of seagulls pierced her ears, and the sea’s dark abyss transformed into a deep blue with colorful fish.

“Buon Giorno kid. We’ll be at the port in about thirty minutes. Go ahead and start gathering your stuff.”

Alma sat up and gazed at the city There were a vast array of colorful boats, enormous sea docks, and an endless scene of Renaissance buildings. Naples was not a new city to Alma. She had come here years before, but the scenery in her memory could not compare to the breathtaking site in front of her. The beauty of the city was on par with that of Sicily.

“Pretty ain’t it.” The sailor said. Alma gazed up at the man. The sailor’s eyes were adorned with bags and dark circles, but his eyes shined when he looked at the city. He had the look a man would give a lover rather than a city.

“Yeah, it is. You must be from here.” “I’m not actually.”

Alma raised an eyebrow at the man.

“I’m from Sicily like you are. However, there’s just somethin’ about Naples that I like.” Alma dropped any other questions she had for the sailor. She removed the cotton blankets from her brothers to fold them to fit into her backpack. She gently shook their shoulders. Miguel stirred awake while Emilio snuggled into the floor of the boat. Alma let out a frustrated sigh.

“He’s such a stubborn two-year old. I’ll let him sleep for a little longer.” Alma whispered. Miguel sat up to stretch out his arms. His black hair was a mess, his big brown eyes prickled with tears as he yawned. Alma pinched both of his chubby cheeks and kissed his forehead. Miguel wrinkled his little nose. “Stop pinching me.”

“You're like a little chipmunk.” Alma cooed. Miguel smacked Alma's hands away with his tiny ones. He pouted at Alma, sticking his tongue out at her. His frustration only made Alma squeeze his cheeks more as she giggled. She let go of Miguel so that she could attach the black baby holder to herself. Alma gently picked up Isabella to place her in the holder. Miguel extended his hand out to rub his finger along Isabella's cheek. She jolted at Miguel's touch.

“Your fingers are probably cold. Can you hold the backpack for me?” “Mmkay.” Miguel nodded as he put his arms through the straps of the bag.

“(Y/n), are we almost there?" Miguel asked. “Yeah. Wake up Emilio when we get close to the docks. Also, remember what I said. No more (Y/n). You have to call me Alma now.” “Sorry.”

Alma stared at Emilio's sleeping from. He had the same black hair as Miguel, but his face was slimmer. His eyes were a shining emerald compared to Miguel’s bright browns. On the other hand, Isabella looked nothing like the other two. She was only a baby, so her features would develop more as she grew. However, her albinism set her apart from her brothers. Her skin was as pale as snow. The small patch of hair on her head almost blended in with her skin. Her beady eyes were not the deep red of rubies but were still quite vibrant. Alma reached towards Miguel and clutched his hand. Miguel intertwined his fingers with hers as he moved to sit next to Alma. He rested his head on her arm and closed his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep Miguel. I can’t carry you if you do.” “Sorry. I’m just cold.” Miguel whispered. “I know, but we’ll be off this boat soon enough.” She smiled at him, rubbing his back. Alma sighed as she stared at Naples.

The sailor stood up to throw a rope towards the small stump on the pier.

“We’ve reached your destination.” The sailor stated. “Thank you.”

Alma hoisted up Emilio to place him on the pier. She did the same with Miguel before she got herself out of the boat.

“There ain’t much else I can do to help you. I’m not really supposed to be in this spot anyway. All I can do is tell you to go into the city to find whatever it is your lookin’ for.” The sailor's expression filled with concern as he started the boat's engine. “You sure you’re gonna be okay?"

“As long as I find the person I’m searching for. Tell Doc that I said thanks for everything.” She turned Miguel around to reach into the backpack. In her hand was a wad of lira that she handed it to the sailor. The man hesitated before he took the bills from Alma's hands. His eyebrows furrowed as he held the cash. He sighed, undoing the rubberband around the money and handed half of it to Alma. She stared back at the sailor in disbelief.

“Are you sure? You’re going to have to ride back on that boat for another nine hours. I want you to have the payment you deserve.”  The sailor held up his hand.

“I don’t wanna take a bunch of money from a little girl and her kid siblings.” “I’m not that little.” Alma pouted. “How old are you?” “Thirteen.” “Your little.” The sailor grinned at Alma. He sat back down on his boat, ready to take off into the sea.

“Thank you for everything, really.” Alma's voice cracked. A lump formed in her throat, preventing her from speaking. She did not want to cry because it would prove the sailor’s point about her age.

“Don’t worry about it. Doc owes me big for this. Anyway, what is your relationship with Doc?”

Alma scratched her cheek. “He was a really good friend of my father’s. I was also kind of an apprentice to him as well.”

“You have plans to be a doctor?” “Actually, I really want to be an artist.” Alma beamed. The sailor erupted into laughter.

“I don’t think Doc could’ve helped you with that.” The sailor wheezed.

Alma frowned at the sailor but became infected with his laughter.

“He can perform all kinds of operations and stitch up wounds, but he can’t draw a flower to save his life.” Tiny snorts sprang free from her mouth.  Alma calmed down and  grabbed Emilio and Miguel’s hands. She turned around to start her journey into the city of Naples. Alma stopped after a few steps. Her back was to the sailor as she spoke.

“Earlier you asked me why I came here. Well, I came here to run away.” Memories of Alma's childhood flooded her mind. The mixture of pain, regret and sorrow made her skin crawl.

“What are you running from?” His voice full of concern. “I’m running from my name.” Alma's voice cracked when the words left her mouth.

She turned her head towards the sailor. He gave her a confused expression. “How do you run from a name?”

“Running from a name means leaving a life behind and starting a new one. Oh, before you leave, I wanna tell you something. If we ever meet again, don’t call me (Y/n). Call me Alma. Its my new name.”

“Alright, Alma.” The sailor spoke Alma's name like he was tasting a robust wine. Alma blinked upon hearing her new name used for the first time. She put her fingers to her chin to ponder on it. The sailor let out another fit of laughter.

“Is it strange to hear the name?” “A little but I can get used to it. Thank you for everything. Get back to Sicily safely.” Alma smiled at the sailor one last time. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about how you're gonna survive in a new city with your siblings. Good luck to you.”

He waved at Alma and rode off into the sea. Emilio tugged onto the sleeve of Alma's hoodie. She looked down at him. Any trace of tiredness dissipated from his face. His eyes were wide and alert.

“I wanna go home.” He whined. “This is home now, Emilio. This is home.”

[cakesunflower]

pls beta read this 1 scene🥺👉🏼👈🏼

okay hehe a bunch of y’all agreed to give the first scene of the one shot a read & let me know what you think of it. to reiterate, i know it’s just the first scene but i’m not sure if i like the way i wrote Calum even in a scene as brief as this?? mostly bc i’m probably used to writing him as snarky and lowkey moody instead of so approachable as i did in this. but yeah. also,,,,this is hella unedited like i finished writing it and then i posted it here LMAO so don’t judge any mistakes.

i put it under the keep reading tab just so the post doesn’t clog up people’s dashes. thank you in advance, y’all!

The microwave in the teacher’s lounge was sparkling clean, and Odessa took that as good of a sign as any. The one in the high school she’d taught at in Nevada had never been clean, no one ever having the decency to clean up after their mess—and Odessa refused to do it, given that it looked as nasty on her first day there as it did on her last. It was why she always brought cold lunches from home so she wouldn’t be subjected to such filth. But this microwave was spotless, and Odessa had no qualms in placing her small bowl of spinach and chicken pasta to heat up during her lunch break.

As she waited for her food to heat up, Odessa allowed for her gaze to wander around the teacher’s lounge. It was large, bigger than her last, which wasn’t surprising given that she was from a town of barely four thousand people, with square table to eat at, couches, a bulletin board pinned with colorful fliers of latest school events. There was a hum of chatter from the few other teachers who were either on their lunch break or weren’t on cafeteria duty for the current freshman and sophomore lunch period. Large windows that looked out towards the front of the school parking lot allowed for the late morning sunlight to stream in, brightening up the space and bringing Odessa a sort of comfort her old town surrounded by mountains bought her.

“How’s your first day going, Odessa?” She turned to see Mrs. Brewer, the chemistry teacher, approaching her with a kind smile on her face. Mrs. Brewer was older than Odessa—as was most of the staff at the school, truthfully—but she’d been one of the first friendly faces to greet Odessa on her first day earlier that morning.

“Pretty well,” Odessa answered with an honest smile. Technically, it was everyone’s first day, given that it was the first day of the school year. But Odessa was new to the city, so her first day was relatively different than most people’s. With a gentle laugh, she added, “I’m in the same boat as the freshman so we’ve decided we’re in this together.”

Mrs. Brewer chuckled, turning to the counter they stood by to prepare herself a mug of coffee. “Making friends with the freshman—smart.” Odessa smiled, opening the microwave when her food was ready. “Have you met any of the other English teachers yet?”

Odessa hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve met Bridget Donnelly and Justine Greggs.”

Stirring the sugar in her mug, Mrs. Brewer tilted her head as she followed Odessa towards the table. “You haven’t met Calum yet? I’m positive he’s the only other teacher here around your age,” she said with a laugh.

As soon as she sat down on the chair, Odessa’s eyebrows shot up at the name, clicking in her head like a snapping rubber band bringing forth a memory she’d forgotten about. Calum—of course! He was Luke’s friend, who Luke told her about as soon as she’d mentioned the school she’d gotten a job at. Calum was one of Luke’s closest friends, and Luke had informed her that he was the boys soccer coach at the school as well as one of the high school English teachers.

In the haste of moving out of Nevada and to California and preparing for her job as she settled down, the fact had slipped right out of Odessa’s head. She’d never met Calum, but she knew of him because of Luke, who Odessa kept in touch with even after they graduated college and she moved back to Nevada and he remained in California. She saw pictures of Calum on Luke’s social media, knew that Luke was in a band with him and two other guys. What a small world that she ended up with a job at the same school he was at—and yet she had gone almost half of the day without running into him.

“Oh, look—speak of the devil.”

Odessa glanced up at Mrs. Brewer’s words, following her gaze towards the door where she saw a familiar face walk through. Her back straightened as Calum entered, offering a smiling nod to Mr. Engels, the government teacher. Odessa easily recognized him in his pale yellow button down tucked into black jeans, running his fingers through dark brown hair and flexing the muscles on his tattooed arm. She bit the corner of her lip as she watched him make his way towards the bowl of fruit by the stove, deaf to the way her mind was telling her to look away. He was handsome, the yellow shirt downright beautiful against his inked skin, the pictures she’d seen of him not at all doing him justice.

As if feeling her gaze on him, Calum’s dark eyes met hers right as he picked up an apple, and Odessa felt her cheeks warm at being caught but before she could even think to look away, she saw recognition flash across his features. Then, to her surprise, Calum was making his way over with a knowing furrow between dark eyebrows as he asked carefully, “Odessa? Odessa Kline, right?”

Odessa told herself it was just her polite nature that brought her smile, not the slight accent he had when he spoke. She sat up, nodding as she answered with a light laugh, “Yeah, yeah. It’s nice to finally meet you, Calum.”

He grinned then, a smile that brought sharp crinkles to the corners of his soft eyes, and Odessa chalked the flip of her stomach up to her hunger and not the way he instantly pulled up a chair to sit next to her upon confirmation of who she was. His body faced hers, elbow on the table as he played with the red apple in his hand. “Yeah, you too,” Calum laughed, the sound deep and rich and dangerously fluttering something in Odessa’s stomach. “Luke’s told me a lot ’bout you.”

“Same here,” Odessa nodded, feeling a small surge of confidence as she added, “I was gonna try to find you at the end of the day so I could meet you but I guess you beat me to it.”

“Not too disappointed, I hope,” Calum chuckled, making Odessa shake her head in response. She was getting pathetically ahead of herself, but she highly doubted she could be disappointed in meeting him. Not with that smile and voice. Calum’s gaze then flickered over her shoulder and he lifted his chin, charming smile ever present on his face as he greeted, “Afternoon, Mrs. B.”

Mrs. Brewer smiled back before gesturing between the two of them, raising her mug as she asked, “You two already know each other?”

With a shake of her head, Odessa answered, “We’ve got a mutual friend.”

“Good—now you have more than just the freshman on your side,” Mrs. Brewer teased Odessa with a smile before getting up. “Excuse me, I should probably get my lesson plan ready for the afternoon classes.”

She left, leaving just Odessa and Calum sitting at the table, and Odessa faced him once more as he hummed. “Mrs. B’s right—us English teachers gotta stick together.”

Odessa raised an eyebrow, picking up her fork and shooting Calum a smile as he bit into his apple with a sharp crunch. “Against who? The students or the rest of the teachers?”

He swallowed the bite, sharp jaw working as a teasing glint flickered in his dark eyes when he let his gaze briefly wander over to the few teachers in the room. “Both,” he answered with a small smirk once his gaze met Odessa’s, earning a laugh from her. “No, but really,” Calum laughed, lightly slapping the top of the table with his free hand. “You need anythin’, let me know, yeah? Luke’ll throw a fit if I didn’t.”

Twirling the pasta around her fork, Odessa raised an eyebrow at Calum, unable to keep her smile from turning teasing as she asked, “Oh, so you’re only offering because of Luke?”

Calum scoffed lightly, giving a subtle shake of his head. “Any friend of Luke’s is a friend of mine,” he told her, and his kind words had Odessa’s cheeks warming once more. It was totally because of his subtly accented words and not the smile that accompanied them. They both took a bite of their food, and afterwards Calum spoke, “Speaking of Luke—I’m assuming you’re coming to his bar Friday night? Since the party’s for you and all.”

Odessa paused in reached for her water, head turning towards Calum with a raise of her eyebrow and tone falling flat as she asked, “The what’s for who now?”

Calum blinked in mild confusion, eyebrows knitting together as he took in Odessa’s own questioning expression. Then, almost comically, his dark eyes widened in realization and he bared his teeth, hissing as he inhaled sharply through his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in self exasperation. “Ah, fuck, I don’t think I was ’posed to tell you that,” he groaned, free fist pressing against his forehead as Odessa kept her gaze fixated on him, silently demanding him to further explain. Sitting up, Calum informed, “I mean, it’s not really a party. He’s just having a few people come over to welcome you. You know how Luke’s always lookin’ for a reason to celebrate.”

Odessa’s expression fell at Calum’s words, a small sinking feeling settling in her stomach. “Oh, God,” she huffed, leaning back in the chair and blank gaze falling on her lunch in front of her. “He knows I don’t like being the center of attention.” Odessa glanced at Calum, a half smile curling at her lips before she added, “Except in the classroom.”

He laughed lightly, nodding along and Odessa had a feeling that he may, in some way, relate to her words. When his gaze met hers once more, a warmth that somehow had the power of making her feel at ease despite the news of Luke’s party, Calum lifted his chin. “It won’t be too bad. You should definitely still come.” Then, with a small, boyish smirk and a raise of an eyebrow, Calum added, “We’ll even perform a couple of songs for you.”

Her stomach flipped. She kept telling herself it was because she was still hungry and not because of the crinkles that appeared alongside his kind smile. And despite the warmth in her cheeks, Odessa still said, “How can I say no to that?”

[lovely-rita-meter-maidd]

aHhahs could i request mclennon as the ship and number 15 from the Angst category? But somehow they end up working it out in the end? 😭😭

Paul considers himself a calm man. He can usually become indifferent in arguments, and can quickly calm down any incident that he sees coming. 

 That is until there’s the smash of glass behind him and he looks over to see that John is leaning over a table, a glass smashed under his arm, and a man looming over him with his fist held high in an incoming rage. 

 Paul didn’t see that coming, and he regrets not keeping an eye on John. Though rationally he knows John is a fully grown man and can look after himself, Paul also knows sometimes his mouth can get away from him and he can say things he doesn’t mean. 

 Which looks like what has happened. 

 Paul sits in shock for a second, glued to his seat as John swings for the man, but the attacker is stronger and a lot bigger than John and he’s quick to plant two more punches on his face, making the guitarist hit the floor with a hard thud.

Paul is up and out of his seat before anything else can happen. He stands between the man and John, holding his hands up in surrender for not only himself but John too. 

 Paul is struck before he even gets a word out and he stumbles back slightly, spitting a bit of blood on the floor from his teeth colliding into his cheek. 

 He looks up at the man again and stutters “I don’t want to fight. He didn’t mean whatever he said. Let me just take him home.” 

The man’s eyes skate over him, and his fist smacks into Paul’s nose before he walks away, leaving Paul to fall over John who’s groaning on the floor. Paul’s hand flies to his nose, and he pulls it away to see blood dripping down his palm.

Before anyone can do anything, he hauls John up and practically carries him out whilst holding his sleeve to his nose. John is silent on the way back, and Paul is glad they aren’t far away from his house so they can just walk back. Paul lets them in quietly and takes John up to the bathroom where he sits him on the toilet lid before he quickly washes his face from all the blood that has accumulated across his nose and cheeks. He dumps his blood-soaked jacket in the washing basket before moving over to John who has his eyes downcast. 

Paul squats in front of him, and places a finger under his chin, tilting it up so that he can inspect John’s face. There’s a bruise starting to form across his cheekbone, and a small cut to his lip and eyebrow. Paul prods his lip slightly earning a hiss, to which Paul grumbles out an apology before gently tracing his face with his fingertips. Once he’s done and knows John’s face is intact and nothing is broken, he sits back on his heels and sighs. 

 “What did ya say to ‘im, Johnny?” 

John squirms slightly under his gaze and lowers his eyes. “He was lookin’ at me funny. So I told ‘im to piss off.” 

Paul sighs again and stands up, gently taking John’s jacket off when he remembers the glass on the table. 

“I didn’t mean for ya to get hit Paul.” 

Paul stops what he’s doing, to look at John. John’s got a look in his eyes, something Paul’s come to know as contrite, but Paul doesn’t know what to say.  Instead, he carries on carefully pulling the jacket off of John’s arm, revealing a gash to his upper forearm. 

He inspects it quietly, seeing that there are pieces of glass lodged into and so proceeds to look for a pair of tweezers in his bathroom. John mumbles something under his breath, and Paul asks a small ‘what’ as he rummages through the draws. 

“I think we should break up.”

The draw is slammed shut and Paul is quick to snap his head to look over at John.

“You what?”

John’s still got that look in his eyes, and he doesn’t respond to Paul’s question, so Paul carries on looking, angrily shoving things around until he finds what he’s been looking for. 

He sits on the edge of the bath next to John and takes his arm before starting the attentive procedure of removing the fragments of glass.

“I’m no good to ya Paul. Why would ya wanna be with me when I get ya in trouble all the time?”

Paul continues his work, and there’s a moment before he responds.

“Because I love ya.”

John tries to pull his arm away, but Paul holds it in a firm grip, and a frustrated noise escapes his throat. 

“I told you not to fall in love with me,” John snaps, but Paul doesn’t react.

Paul finishes and stands up, wetting a small cloth in the sink before sitting back down next to John. He takes the other’s arm and dabs at it, wiping away the blood and any dirt. 

“Didn’t have a choice did I, John? You can’t ask of me something like that.”

Paul’s words are icy, and they bite at John with a kind of cold anger he’s never experienced from his partner. He stays silent as Paul finishes his arm before taking the younger man’s reluctant hands into his own.

“I’m sorry Paul.”

Paul manages to crack a small smile at that and lets himself be pulled into a hug. 

“Yer a dick,” he murmurs against John’s neck, and the older man laughs quietly.

“Love ya too Macca.” 

[etherealhood]

Birthday Getaway

author: @etherealhood

word count: 2,212

warnings: real fluffy, dad!calum

a/n: okay so i was on instagram and saw kylie jenner’s instagram video of stormi in the water and it made me write this so sorry bout it (also i didn’t proofread so there might be some goofs)

pairing: calum hood x reader

Suppressing the smile he wore for that one little girl and her only, was hard as he looked down at her, watching her bounce with excitement as he held her in his tattooed arm. He chuckled, his heart tightening in his chest as he fell in love with his sweet look-alike all over again. She was kicking her tiny legs, reminding him of the days where he played soccer. With her powerful limbs, she’d be the perfect little athlete.

His wife was grinning at the pair as she held her cell phone horizontally, taking as many pictures she could of the two loves of her life. The sun was shining perfectly, hitting Calum’s tan skin as well as the eleven-month old baby’s in his arms. Her dark curls were matching her father’s, blowing with the slight breeze that seemed to always be present when they spent days at the beach. The daisy-printed, black, one piece their daughter wore matched the printed-bikini bottoms her mother wore and the plain black swim shorts here father was wearing.

“Hi, baby. You gonna smile for mama?” The woman looked at her child, still pointing the camera at her. Her child looked over at her mother, her fist in her mouth as she began smiling brightly upon hearing the woman’s sweet and familiar voice

Calum grabbed her hand from her mouth, waving her hand at his wife. “Say hi, darlin’.” He looked from the face of his daughter to his lover, his large smile softening as he looked at the woman that gave him the little girl he held against his chest. She was looking at the screen of the phone, snapping her pictures so she would forever have the memory of the little birthday getaway they planned for not only him, but their daughter who just so happened to have a birthday that was very close to her father’s.

His wife caught his gaze on her and he would’ve have to have been dumb to not notice how she got just the slightest bit bashful under his warm eyes. He winked at her, watching as she blew him a kiss and walked over to him, her feet leaving imprints in the wet sand that only began to fade away when the water rolled onto the shore. She held the phone in one hand, but used her right one to tickle at her daughter’s stomach.

“Why ya lookin’ at me like that?” She asked her husband. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side before kissing her temple. Her hand pressed to his bare abdomen to as she turned her head to look up at him.

“‘M just really, really in love with you is all.” He hummed against her lips as he pressed them to hers in a soft and lazy kiss that was still full of every emotion he held in his heart for her. She smiled against his mouth, circling her arm around his torso under his arm.

The baby started babbling as the couple shared their moment. He chuckled and pulled away, both of them looking fondly at their child. Pulling her arm off of him, she handed the phone to Calum and held her hands out so she could take the baby he held in his arms. She pulled the little one into her chest, showering her in kisses on the mouth and cheeks as she cupped the back of her head.

The girl’s little arms wrapped around her mother’s neck, hugging her close as she put her face against the older woman’s. Bending down, Y/N held her daughter’s waist as she helped her stand on the ground and walk in the sand. Immediately, the infant looked up at the weird feeling of the sand between her toes. She looked between her parents, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Calum laughed at her expression and unlocked the cell phone, going to camera and switching to the recording setting. He flipped the phone so it was horizontal and pressed the big red button, the changing numbers at the top of the screen letting him know he was recording.

“You walkin’, babygirl?” He said in the soft voice he always used with his little one. She looked up and smiled at her dad, bouncing up and down on her chubby legs and laughing as she held onto Y/N’s two index fingers. She started walking along the sand toward Calum, her mom not too far behind as she used her for stability. Her little footprints were left in her path, the water getting closer to her small feet as it continued washing up the sand.

“Da!” She said, following Calum as he walked backwards to keep her going for the video he was filming. “Dada, Dada.” She repeated over again as she connected her eyes with her father’s dark ones. Although in nearly every way, from her dark curly hair to the shape of her nose and to her pouty lips, she looked like Calum, she without a doubt had her mother’s gorgeous eyes. When he looked into them, he was instantly reminded of the woman he loved so much and vowed to spend the rest of his life with.

The chuckle that bubbled out of him was quiet as she blew raspberries in between her attempts at saying the few words they’d been teaching her. He heard her call out to Y/N a few times, looking around for her mother. His daughter was still walking towards him, letting go of her mom. Calum started walking closer to the water, urging his family to follow him. The water was far out, beginning roll in as she wobbled and reached out for him.

Her face lit up with surprise as the cold water rolled over her small feet. She gasped, her mouth parting in an ‘O’ shape at the change of temperature and feeling. It became just apparent how shocked she was as she fell onto her bottom with astoundment still very apparent on her face. Both Calum and Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that escaped them.

In the time they’d been parents, they hadn’t gone to the beach very often because Calum had been busy with work and brought his family along with him as much as he could so he wouldn’t miss any unnecessary time with his growing girl. However, the couple of times they did manage to get out for some time at the beach, they took the baby with them and she was always just as surprised as the first time when she felt the water on her caramel-colored skin.

The parents bent down at the same time, sitting next to their child as she leaned forward and put her hand on the ground to reach for the water that had pulled back, leaving some of the foam in its wake. She got a handful of sand and started kicking excitedly as she played with it in her hand. Looking at Y/N, she brought her tiny fist up and went to put it in her mouth.

Y/N instantly grabbed her hand and pulled it back, shaking her head. “No, no, baby. You can’t eat that.” She shook her head with a small chuckle, rinsing her hand off in the water that came rolling back up to them.

She grabbed the infant sitting between them and brought her in between her bent legs, letting the little one lean back onto her mother’s stomach. The water rolled back up, touching her tiny toes that curled and uncurled as shrieked out in laughter.

With a permanent smile, the woman’s heart beat a little faster as she looked from her baby to her lover who was laughing, his eyes crinkled adorably as he recorded the little moment. Even though he was pointing the camera at the two girls in his life, he wasn’t looking at the screen. He wanted to look at them and remember the real moment this was happening and not what he was seeing happen on the small screen of the cell phone he held.

“Oh, she’s got the most beautiful laugh I’ve ever heard.” He said with that adoring grin still pulling at his lips. She looked up at her dad and clapped her sandy hands together excitedly, still doing her little kicks of excitement even as she sat down. The water came back again, washing over the entire length of her small legs. She squealed again and put her hands in the water, trying to hold it in her small fists.

“She loves the water!” His wife giggled as he stopped recording and handed her back her phone.

He leaned in and wrapped his hands around his daughter’s little body under her arms. “Looks like we got a little fishy on our hands, don’t we?” He cheered as he threw her up just a couple inches before catching her, a giggle bubbling out of her as she smiled down at her father. He heard Y/N sigh in relief as his hands had a hold on her body once again. “Scare ya?” He teased her with a smirk on her face.

“You know that makes me nervous, Hood.” She scolded with a pout, her eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He laughed at her attempt to be angry and leaned forward, craning his neck to give her a quick peck on the lips.

“Sorry, baby. Won’t do it again.” He apologized as he gave her another kiss, pulling back to look at her with that familiar fondness in his eyes.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a small scoff. “That’s a lie.”

“I know.”

His wife scooted closer to him, leaning her head on his broad shoulder. Their daughter sat on his knee, Calum bouncing his leg up and down to keep her entertained with the movement. Y/N watched as the sun sparkled on the water, making it shimmer in front of them. It reminded her of the Eiffel Tower and the few times she’d been with Calum when she saw it sparkle at night.

She looked from the water to her partner who was making faces at their daughter, her soft squeals of laughter sounding amongst the three of them as he shook her just a little. Bubbles started foaming at her mouth as she began drooling. “You’ve got slobber all over ya, my love!” Calum said, using his thumb to wipe away the spit on her chin. “All better, yeah?” He asked her in his baby-voice.

With her chin resting on his shoulder, Y/N stared at the little girl, admiring everything about the child that she loved so much. Calum leaned in and gave the baby a kiss on the tip of her little nose, yet another sound of delight coming from her. Y/N’s heart was so full as the gentle sound of waves rolling up and down the shore surrounded the family of three. “I love you. I love you both, so so much.” She whispered in his ear before placing a kiss in the little space underneath it.

“We love you too.” He said back to her, just as softly as she said it to him. She smiled fondly, looking over his shoulder at the smiling girl that the was the product of the unconditional love they shared. Her hand smoothed down his arm to his torso, her fingers grazing over the spot she knew his most recent tattoo was. It was their baby’s name written in his wife’s handwriting. One day, he asked her to write her name on a piece of paper and then later came back with the new ink under his left pectoral muscle.

“Still think this is my favorite tattoo.” She mumbled as her fingertips skimmed over the name, her touch soft on his wet skin.

“What about the one I got for you?” He asked, referring to the tattoo he had of her zodiac sign on his right bicep.

She shrugged and looked back at her husband. “Still love hers more. I love our little family.”

He was watching the little girl fidget in his lap so he set her down on the ground, still facing him but letting her play with the sand between them. She grabbed the sand in her hands, some of it slipping through her fingers and plopping down on Calum’s leg as it fell. She raised her arms almost showing him her new discovery. He smiled at her, craning his head down to kiss her little fists, not caring about the small amount of sand that transferred to his lips.

Turning his head back at the stunning woman beside him, he had a gentle smile pulling at his lips. He’d never been so happy, but being at some island resort’s private beach with just his two girls, with the two epic loves of life, he knew that this was what life was all about. He knew that the overwhelming amounts of love he held in his heart was all he needed.

Calum wrapped his right arm around his wife, her cheek resting on his chest as he kissed her hairline before looking back down at their little one. “I love it, too.”

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