#LIKE THERE IS NO GOD DAMN WAY THEY GET OUT OF THAT UNSCATHED... NO WAY

[buckysleftbicep]

all that's left 𐙚 b.b

pairing: fwb!bucky barnes x fwb!fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, friends with benefits relationship, unprotected sex, lots of angst, arguments, hurtful words, bittersweet ending (sorta)

summary: you and bucky were never meant to be more than friends with benefits—until you say those three words. he walks out. then a mission traps you both in a sealed room, and suddenly, there’s no escaping the walls you both built.

word count: 4.4k

author's note: hi! for my first fic, it's kinda long, started working on it after watching thunderbolts! i hope you enjoy it, if you did, let me know or reblog, whichever works! love ya and have a great day! i hope this doesn't flop :")

“(Y/N), you’ll be with Bucky”. 

The sentence cuts like paper through skin — quiet, clean and a lot deeper than it actually looks. Steve’s voice is steady, casual, captain-like, just as he always was when it came down to missions, the kind of tone he uses when he is expecting no resistance, and despite the glance that seems to reflect some sort of apology and perhaps even pity, you knew he was just doing his job. He is the team leader after all. 

But the sound of his name, his name that you couldn’t bring yourself to even utter for the last two weeks, drops into your gut like a live grenade, you didn’t move, didn’t even blink. Your fingers stayed steady on the edge of the thick mission file, but inside you, something splinters, not all at once, but just a small, sharp crack under your ribs, the kind that gets worse when you pretend it doesn’t exist. 

Across the briefing room, Bucky’s face remains still, his expression stoic, unreadable and you find yourself thinking that perhaps, you never were able to read him the way you thought you did. Because if you did, you’d figured out that everything that had transpired between you and the brunette was nothing more than meaningless flings, quick fucks if you will. 

What was it they said? 

Right — good enough to fuck, but not good enough to love. 

You exhale softly, biting your lip as you scanned the file quickly, hydra base, intel recovery, two agents in, clean extraction. Of course it’s you and him, it always had been, both of you were known as SHIELD’s dream team when it came to intel extractions, break a few necks, fire some bullets and you both were out, unscathed, efficient, dangerous. 

And then you’d return back to base, where his lips would meet yours feverishly as his hands trailed your curves, his fingers long accustomed to every crevice of your body. Bucky knew how to draw out every sound, every breath, every damn piece of you that craved to feel wanted.

You could remember the way he undid your suit on his bed, whispering those sweet nothings in your ear as you begged him to fuck you, your eyes blown wide with lust, and lips swollen as he teased out of you feelings you never knew you had. 

But all of that was short lived, because well as much as you harboured nothing but stupid, aching love for the cerulean eyed man, he thought differently. That was clear as day when he had pushed himself off you, shock painted on his face as he pulled his pants on hurriedly, almost as if being in the same room for just another second would kill him. You had stumbled to your feet, bare and trembling, your voice rising as your heart cracked wide open, “I didn’t mean to, I swear Buck, please-”. You had reached for him, almost as if he’s already gone and left you, and he is. 

“You were never supposed to fall in love with me (Y/n)-”

“I-I know Buck, please even if its not real for you, p-please, I just-”

He cuts you off, the emotions that were warring in his face replaced with that of coldness, the icy gaze that fell on you crushed whatever hope you had left.

“Let’s stop this, you were just convenient, don’t make this more than that”. 

You had remembered that silence, god, it was deafening, and you felt the words like a harsh slap, like a knife twisting under your ribs and you watched, eyes rimmed red as the man you once believed could one day love you back walked out.

“Everything alright?” Steve’s voice cuts through your thoughts, you nod, eyes still trained on the file even though you damn well knew that moment was still playing in your head, like some sick film that couldn’t stop replaying itself.

“Buck?” Steve asked, shooting a glance towards his pal, you dared yourself to look up, Bucky’s jaw is clenched tightly, eyes unreadable as always, fixated on the door behind the capotain, almost as if it could offer some kind of salvation. 

“Yeah, all’s good”. The brunette replied. 

Liar. 

The flight is quiet, too quiet, the kind of quiet that is far from peace, it was brittle, breathless, the kind that hung in the air like smoke after a fire. You had sat at one end of the jet, legs crossed, a mission file open in your lap that you hadn’t actually read past the first line.

Across from you, Bucky sat with, face turned just enough that you could see the line of his jaw, tight and unmoving. He hadn’t even looked at you once since takeoff. 

Not that you were looking. 

Well, not really. 

But it was impossible not to notice him, the way he took up space without even trying to, the low sound of his breathing, even and steady, the slight twitch in his gloved fingers where they tapped a rhythm only he understood. You used to know that rhythm. You used to know everything about James Barnes.

And now?

Now you couldn’t even tell if he hated you or worse — felt absolutely nothing at all. 

You kept your eyes fixed on the printed pages in front of you, even though your mind was anywhere but on the mission specs. It was a simple job, according to the file at least, in and out like Steve had said. You and Bucky had done this dance dozens of times, a flawless rhythm honed by years of fieldwork, communication and something that had once resembled trust. 

Once. 

The last time you were on a mission like this, you had ended up on Bucky’s lap, breathless, gasping, half-dressed as his mouth burned its way down the soft skin of your neck to the valley of your breasts, metal hand fluttering over your skin like he wanted, no, like he needed to memorise every inch.

Your moans had bounced off the walls of the jet as it lurched from turbulence, as Bucky kissed you though it, called you his pretty girl, said he needed you, wanted you. 

And now, he wouldn’t even look at you. 

“Should be a quick one, get the files, and you’re both out, no detours, as far as we know, this base has long been abandoned”. Steve’s voice crackled through the comms, grounding you with its usual steadiness. “Files are stored in a secure server, sublevel three, eyes up, low contact expected, you two copy?”.

“Copy” you said first, voice even, rehearsed, almost if you didn’t just cry your throat raw the last two weeks. 

There was a beat of silence, then, “copy”. Bucky’s voice was rougher, lower and it sounded like a word forced out through clenched teeth. 

And that was it, silence reclaimed the jet, thicker than it was before. 

You risked a glance at the brunette, a real one this time, and your stomach twisted in a knot. He hadn’t moved. His eyes stayed fixed on the small window beside him, gaze distant, the curve of his brow giving nothing away. 

There was a time where you thought you could read him, every flicker of emotion, every blink, every breathe, you knew when he had a bad night, when the nightmares plagued his dreams, you knew when his therapist had hammered down on him, giving him one of her many unsolicited advices that well, he never did take seriously, besides the one where she told him to talk to someone he trusted. You.

Well, it was you, between the hungry kisses and your back against bathroom walls as Bucky filled you so perfectly, he was sharing his life with you, the days he spent with HYDRA and of course, the 40s. 

But maybe that had been an illusion, or maybe you were just hopelessly naive, stupid. 

You turned your gaze back to the file, the words blurry as a headache bloomed at the base of your skull, you could feel tears well up in your eyes as you tried to get the words Bucky spat harshly out of your head. 

God, you had begged him to stay, to not leave. 

Begged him to stay after the words slipped out, — I love you — so fucking stupidly, so recklessly when your body was tangled with his as his hips had snapped against yours. You hadn’t even realised you had said them at first, until you had seen the look on his face, almost like you had stabbed him. 

Your voice, small, shaking naked in every sense of the word, you could still see his cold, icy, piercing gaze, the softness draining from him like light bleeding out of a room. 

Now, here you were, trapped in a tin can, above hostile territory with the man who shattered you, who was fine pretending you were both just teammates. Just agents. Like you hadn’t fallen asleep in his arms and thought, maybe, just maybe this could be real. 

You clenched your jaw, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes. 

You didn’t want to love him anymore, but god, you missed the way it almost felt like he did. 

The hallway stretched ahead like a vein of steel and silence, cold and humming with the kind of tension that settled in your bones, the kind that made your skin itch under your tactical gear. You and Bucky moved through it like you always had, together, seamless, wordless.

Muscle memory wrapped in old wounds, you fell into the rhythm automatically, Bucky would  move, and you would follow, you’d gesture, and he’d respond, the dance that made SHIELD send the both of you out for every data retrieval mission, because the both of you never failed. 

Even now. 

At the end of the corridor, two guards stood, chatting lazily, their rifles slung low, Bucky glanced at you, nodding towards them, you didn’t hesitate before the both of you sprang into action. 

It was efficient. Brutal. Over before the guards even knew they were in danger, you veered left, using the shadows like muscle memory, silent steps, steady breaths, the first guard didn’t even have time to draw his weapon, you slipped behind him, arm hooking around his neck in one clean, practiced sweep, the way Nat taught you, he struggled for a moment, but you held tight, twisting just enough until his knees buckled and he went down like a soft thud.

Bucky was already on the second guard, a flash of movement, a sharp, harsh kick to the back of knee to drop his stance, and before you knew it, guard two collapsed like dead weight. 

You didn’t flinch when Bucky’s hand brushed against yours as you passed the second server room. But you felt it, a graze of skin. barely a touch — and yet it seared like contact with a live wire.

He flinched, not a recoil exactly, but a hitch. The faintest disruption in his usually smooth motion. 

Enough to make you ache.

Then the door to the server room hissed open. You entered first, sweeping the corners, eyes scanning out of habit more than necessity.

“Clear,” you muttered

You knelt by the console and pulled the flash drive from your pocket, it slid into place with a soft click, and lines of code immediately flickered across the screen, the words, “download initiated” flashed across the computer, the whir of fans, the pulsing red light overhead and the steady tick of your heartbeat.

Then— SLAM.

The door behind you shut like a guillotine, a mechanical hiss following the unmistakable sound of a lock sliding into places the panel on the wall started blinking red. 

“What the fuck—” you whirled, reaching instinctively for your comm.

Absolutely nothing, no static, not a voice.

You looked at Bucky, already at the keypad, jaw tight, eyes focused on the screen as his fingers danced over the keys, punching in override codes with mechanical precision, but even he looked tenser than usual — less sure.

“Backup lockdown protocol?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even. 

“Could be,” he said, not looking at you. “Maybe they knew we were coming.”

“Great.” You exhaled sharply. “Perfect.”

The room was small, closer than it had felt a minute ago, the red emergency lights cast shadows across the concrete floor, licking up the walls like flickering firelight, and the fact that you were this close to Bucky didn’t help, thoughts ran through your head as you tried to suffer through the silence.

Too tense. Too close.

“You don’t have to look so pissed,” you muttered after a long, stretching silence, arms folded tight over your chest like they could hold the ache in. Your voice echoed slightly in the metal-and-concrete hush of the server room, small but biting. “It’s not like I planned to get stuck in a room with you.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even turn around.

That silence was cold and heavy and deliberate, it was more infuriating than any argument. More cruel than any insult. And just like that, the restraint you’d been clinging to fractured, snapping apart like thin glass under pressure.

“Seriously, Bucky?” You took a step forward, fists curling tight at your sides, heat prickling behind your eyes. “You’re just gonna stay quiet?”

He paused. His back tensed. Then, without looking at you, he said flatly, “I didn’t realise we had anything left to say.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Sharp. Surgical. You sucked in a breath like it would stop the sting, but it didn’t. Instead, your lips curled into a bitter smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said, voice tight with disbelief. “Maybe a follow-up to ‘you were convenient.’ Maybe that’s not something you just say and then disappear.”

At that, his shoulders stiffened. His fingers twitched near the keypad, as if they were still trying to solve the problem — like maybe if he focused hard enough, he wouldn’t have to face the real one standing behind him. But the motion faltered, and he let his hand fall away.

“You said it like I meant nothing to you,” you continued, voice cracking, breath hitching somewhere between fury and heartbreak. “Like I was just some mistake you made in a moment of weakness. Some warm body you used to get through the night.”

“I never said—”

“You didn’t have to.” The words tumbled out of you now, raw and ragged. “I was there for you, Bucky. Every night. Every fucking night. When you couldn’t sleep. When the nightmares got so bad you couldn’t breathe. When you looked in the mirror like you didn’t deserve to be alive—I was there. And y-you used me.”

He turned at last, his eyes wild, stormy. His voice broke as he spoke.

“You told me you loved me.”

You flinched like the words had weight,  like they could bruise you more than he already did.

“You think I could keep touching you after that?” he said, quieter now, like something inside him was unraveling.

And you froze.

The air thinned, shrank around you. Your heart thundered against your ribs.

“You think I could keep doing that to you,” he went on, his voice barely holding together, “knowing you felt something—when I... when I couldn’t let myself feel anything at all?”

Your voice was barely more than a breath. “So you ran. Because someone gave a shit?”

His eyes flared, a flicker of something wounded flashing through the cracks in his carefully worn armor.

“You don’t get it,” he snapped, cerulean eyes darkening. “You never did.”

“Then explain it to me,” you said, stepping forward until the air between you pulsed. “Help me fucking understand why I wasn’t enough.”

He looked like he wanted to bolt. Like the truth was a weight too heavy to hold. But he didn’t move. Not yet.

“You were supposed to know the rules,” he said finally, voice flat but not emotionless. “You made them. No feelings. No strings. You knew what this was.”

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you,” you whispered, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “I just... did. And maybe that was stupid. Maybe I read something into it that was never there.”

His jaw flexed. His face closed off. And when he finally spoke, it was like ice cutting through your ribs.

“You did.”

The silence that followed was endless. Deafening. It rang in your ears louder than gunfire.

You stared at him, something inside you slowly collapsing in on itself. Your spine straightened, chin tilting up in a last shred of defiance even as your voice wavered.

“Wow,” you said. “Guess I really was convenient.”

He didn’t move. But something flickered across his face — guilt, pain, maybe even regret — and for the smallest second, it looked like he might take it all back.

But he didn’t.

Your throat closed. You couldn’t breathe past the pressure rising in your chest. You were unraveling, piece by piece, in front of the one person who’d already seen you at your most vulnerable. And it still wasn’t enough.

“I was a mission to you,” you said. “Something broken to fix. A distraction. A warm place to hide when the rest of the world got too loud. But y-you…”

Your voice cracked, and you turned away, hating yourself for how much it still hurt.

“You were everything to me. And I hate that you still are.”

That finally did it.

Bucky’s face shifted, like something inside him broke and bled out all at once. His jaw clenched so tight the muscles twitched, his lips were pressed into a thin, hard line, but even that didn’t hide the tremble beneath. His eyes, dark, stormy—flickered with something close to pain, raw and real, like the weight of everything you said was scraping against his soul.

The lines around his eyes and mouth deepened, harsh shadows carved by years of anger and loss, Bucky’s breathing hitched—sharp and ragged—like he was fighting against the damn emotions clawing their way up from somewhere deep and dangerous. You caught the briefest flicker of something you’d never seen before: brokenness. 

A crack in the armor.

His metal arm twitched at his side, a reminder of what he’d been through, what he still carried. The cold gleam of the metal contrasted with the heat of his skin, flushed in anger or pain, or both. His whole body was tense, like he wanted to run, or fight, or maybe just disappear.

And yet, even with all that anger, all that rage, there was this dark, raw ache in his eyes—like he hated himself for feeling it, for letting you see it. He looked like he was on the edge of losing control, and maybe that scared him more than anything.

“I begged you to stay,” you said, almost whimpering as tears fell, Bucky’s voice came a second later, rough and ruined.

“I left because if I stayed, I would’ve destroyed you.”

You turned then, eyes blazing through the blur of tears. “You didn’t destroy me, Bucky. You left me alive to remember it.”

The server beeped — a cold, neutral sound. Files downloaded. Mission complete. Job done.

But this wasn’t a mission. This wasn’t something you could walk away from with a pat on the back and a debrief.

This was ruin. Quiet, private, and absolute.

You turned your back to him, shoulders trembling. Your hands curled into fists, knuckles white with the effort of staying upright. Silent tears carved paths down your cheeks, but you didn’t make a sound.

Behind you, Bucky didn’t speak. Didn’t move. The air between you was thick and poisonous, buzzing with everything you’d said and everything you hadn’t.

And in that unbearable silence, you finally understood the one truth that stung more than all the rest:

He wanted to love you.

But James Buchanan Barnes didn’t know how.

The server beeped again.

Still, you didn’t move, you couldn’t. Your hands trembled at your sides, your back still turned, chest rising and falling like your lungs were trying to remember how to breathe without pain. The words still echoed in the tight air between you, circling like ghosts neither of you could exorcise.

And then you heard it.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. The quiet creak of his boots across the floor. Closer. Closer still.

“Don’t,” you rasped, not turning around, afraid that he would see the tears that now stained your cheeks. “Don’t come near me if you’re just going to walk away again.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky said behind you, voice thick, low, loaded.

Then his hand was on your arm, warm flesh this time, not metal, turning you gently, carefully, until you were facing him.

Your eyes met his cerulean ones, and something snapped, Bucky crashed his lips against yours like he’d finally broken through whatever leash he’d kept himself on, no, it wasn’t gentle or sweet, it was punishment and apology and desperation all at once — teeth and tongue and heat and anger and god, it was everything you remembered and everything you’d tried to forget.

You kissed him back with everything you had.

Your hands clawed into his shirt, dragging him closer, pouring all your pain into it, needing him to feel it. You wanted to hurt him with your mouth, your nails, your breath — the way he’d hurt you — but it was all tangled in love, twisted, beautiful and devastating all at once.

Bucky’s hands cupped your jaw, tilted your head, deepened the kiss until you were dizzy.

“Say you hate me,” he growled against your mouth.

You gasped, breath catching. “I do.”

“Liar.” His voice was rough, ruined. “You feel this. Same as me.”

And then his metal hand gripped your waist, pulling you against the hard line of his body. You moaned — couldn’t help it — the contact lighting a fire beneath your skin, melting the last of your resolve.

“Fuck,” you hissed, as he backed you into the server console, lifting you onto it with ridiculous ease.

He stepped between your legs, breathing ragged, hands everywhere,  tugging at your clothes, sliding under them, desperate to feel skin.

“You still feel like mine,” he muttered, voice cracked and reverent as he shoved your shirt up, exposing your stomach, your bra, the sweat-slick skin he used to worship like religion.

Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of his tac vest, shoving it off, needing to touch. To drag your nails down his chest. To mark him, claim him back.

“You walked away from this,” you gasped, kissing his jaw, biting it. “But your body still remembers me.”

He groaned deep in his throat. “I never forgot. Not once.”

And then he was on you,  mouth on your neck, tongue sliding down to your collarbone, hands rough as he ripped open the button of your pants, dragging them down with agonizing speed. You gasped as cool air hit your thighs, and then again as he dropped to his knees like you were something to be worshipped.

“Bucky—” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair as he looked up at you with blown pupils and a bruised mouth. His hands hooked behind your knees, dragging you to the edge of the console like you weighed nothing.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped.

You stared down at him, chest heaving.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

That was all he needed.

He buried his mouth between your thighs like a starving man, and you screamed — hands fisting in his hair, legs shaking as his tongue slid deep, his stubble scraping your thighs in the most delicious way. It was filthy. Sinful. He moaned into you like he was addicted to the taste of your pain, your need.

You were already close — the heat was unbearable — but he didn’t let up, didn’t pause, not even when you came apart on his tongue, shuddering and crying out his name like it was a confession.

He stood then, mouth wet, eyes feral, dragging you off the console and spinning you around.

Your palms slapped against the metal surface. You were still panting, legs trembling, but you wanted more. Needed him.

“Tell me you still want this,” he said against your ear, one hand trailing up your back, the other palming your ass.

“I want you,” you choked out, pressing back into him. “I want all of you.”

The sound he made — a desperate, broken groan — was followed by the sound of his zipper, then the feel of him, thick and hard, rubbing against your slick folds.

When Bucky pushed into you, it was like being split open and healed all at once.

You both gasped. Swore. Clutched at the metal console like it might save you from drowning in the fire.

He set a brutal rhythm — relentless, deep, pounding into you with years of unsaid words and unmet longing. You met every thrust with your own, sobbing his name, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure coiled tight again in your belly.

“You feel like home,” he groaned, fucking you deeper. “You are home.”

You shattered with his name on your lips.

And this time, when you broke, he didn’t let go.

He followed you over the edge, spilling inside you with a raw, guttural moan, his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, his arms wrapping tight around your waist like he was terrified you might disappear again.

The silence that followed wasn’t the cold, cruel kind anymore.

It was quiet. Close. Reverent.

And when he finally pulled back, pressing a kiss to your spine, your shoulder, your temple — you knew.

Bucky couldn’t say it.

But this time, he wasn’t going to leave.

“I left because if I stayed, I would’ve broken you. And maybe… maybe I already did.”

Your breath caught, the confession hanging heavy in the room between you both. For a moment, the walls didn’t feel so cold. The distance shrunk, just a fraction, because finally, for the first time, he wasn’t hiding behind that ironclad façade.

You took a shaky step closer, eyes searching for something you’d never dared hope to see: vulnerability.

“Maybe you did,” you whispered, voice trembling, “but I’m still here.”

His gaze faltered, raw and unguarded. The storm behind his eyes softened, just enough to invite you in.

Before you could think twice, your fingers reached out, tracing the cold metal of his arm, and then his cheek. His skin was warm, alive, and beneath his guarded exterior, you found something broken, but not beyond repair.

Bucky’s lips parted, as if to speak, but instead, he pulled you into a bruising, desperate kiss that said everything words couldn’t. It was an apology, a plea, a promise all tangled into one.

The mission could wait. The past could wait.

Right now, it was just you and him, raw, broken and real.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start again.

i love, love, love, thunderbolts, it reignited my love for bucky ౨ৎ

[cybrasigilism]

Thanos (Player 230) Smut Drabble

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warning: smut and all things of the like | lowercase intended | degradation | spanking | protection not implied (wrap it before you tap it) | PiV | reader has female genitalia | not proofread

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: thanks for 50+ followers! i appreciate each and every one of you so much :) i just wanted to say that i was thoroughly surprised with how many people wanted me to do a thanos smut drabble because i personally felt my writing for him was less than satisfactory, i’m just happy i was able to do him justice! also, my request box is open! if theres anyone you want me to write for please drop a request there!

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, readers discretion is advised

you and i both know damn well that thanos, player 230 himself, is an absolute freak.

it doesn’t come as a surprise to any of his partners when he goes absolutely buck wild in bed, dude is willing to try and experience just about any and everything just as long as it involves him inside you.

need him to go down on you? you may have to pry him off if you want his cock because he will get lost in the pleasure. he won’t even just eat you out, he’ll suck and lick on your clit while fingering you, working at absolute god speed just to make you cum. need to dry hump? he’s more than willing to let you grind on his thigh while he kisses and marks up your neck, leaving a cluster of hickeys and bite marks in his wake. trust he will be pulling your hair back to ensure you’re thoroughly marked up, not a spot on your neck left unscathed by his mouth.

when it comes time for you to please him, he will grab a fistful of your hair and guide your head up and down his dick, and rest assured that you will without a doubt be deepthroating him. he’s quite vocal when pleasing you, sure, but when the roles are reversed and you’re doing the work on him? such slutty sounds have never before been expelled from human lips, he’ll go on about how good your mouth feels on his cock, how impressed he is with your ability to take the full length of him between your lips. oh and god forbid you lightly graze your teeth over his dick, if you plan on making him cum through a blowjob god please use your teeth.

“oh fuck girl, yeah..that’s right suck my dick just like that fuck” and “god if you keep going like this.. i dunno if i can take it, shit.” are both phrases you can expect to hear, that’s if he’s too far gone to focus on degrading you. if his thoughts haven’t been totally clouded by how good you’re making him feel, he’ll make sure to mock you and be kind of a dick about the whole ordeal. “finally putting that bitch mouth of yours to good use.” “awe, is it too much? can’t take it? too fucking bad.”

when it comes to actually fucking you, it’s face down, ass up all the way. you’ll for sure be leaving the situation with a bruised ass from how much he’ll be spanking you. the hair pulling carries over here too, he’ll pull you back into it while he fucks you senseless, whispering filthy things all the while.

will 100% call you his “personal cum dumpster” and the degradation does. not. stop.

“how does it feel, huh? to be on all fours like the little bitch you are for me? bet no one else could make you feel this good, huh?”

“fuck, you’re such a good cocksleeve, holy shit”

“god, moaning like such a slut for me, didn’t think you were such a needy whore”

when he’s not spanking your ass or pulling your hair back, his hands are firmly affixed to your hips with such fervour that marks being left behind would not surprise you. the twinge of pain that comes when he digs his nails into the grip is something you find yourself waiting for. he knows you love it, to be honest i don’t think he would do any of this if it didn’t get you as wet as it did. trust he will also rub your clit as he fucks you like this, when you end up cumming, it might be too much to handle with how this man attacks your senses from every angle.

biting, scratches, hair pulling, the whole nine yards can be expected when you let thanos use you like this.

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thanks for reading again! you know the drill, any advice/constructive criticism is appreciated and requested! i’m always looking to improve my writing, and of course, more to come :)

[kennedysbaby]

be my angel

content: re4r leon x female reader. domestic fluff. making out. established relationship. angst elements. author's note: inspired by the mazzy star song! the lack of leon kennedy fluff is concerning. also first time posting on tumblr yay.

₊⊹⁀➴ ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55001149

if it weren't for you, leon probably would've lost his mind a long time ago. you were so sweet, so gentle, so understanding—he sometimes questioned if he even deserved someone as unscathed as yourself. it was comforting dating a regular civilian, someone who wasn't exposed to the daily nightmares he faced in his line of work. being so blissfully ignorant to the horrors of the world was a luxury he no longer afforded, never did. 

leon hated the sad look that'd cross your perfect features as he left for one of his gruesome missions, that last goodbye kiss that had him tightly gripping the steering wheel as he pulled out of the driveway, the asphalt crackling beneath the tires. the fact that he couldn't tell you much about said missions, given their classified nature, only made him more upset—it felt like wordlessly forsaking you for one-to-two weeks at a time.

oh, but the sweet expression you'd have on your face as you twisted the metal doorknob, the way it lightened up at the mere sight of him. it had leon's chest tightening and breath hitching, wanting nothing more than to pull you into a long, hard kiss. you had him acting a fool, needless to say. 

tonight was a little different, though. the digital clock on the dashboard read 12:47 am, causing leon to scoff lightly under his breath. he disliked coming home late, knowing most likely that you were probably up, huddled on the couch with thick blankets wrapped around you, wishing it was his arms keeping you warm instead. 

leon's gaze then drifted back up towards the heavy rain thrashing vehemently against the ground, the deafening silence disrupted by the droplets pattering against the window and the swiping of the windshield wipers doing their job, giving him a clear view of the road ahead. he was still a good twenty minutes away from home, and that fact alone makes him press his foot against the gas a little harder, damning any traffic laws at the moment. 

though, crashing the car in an attempt to see you sooner was a bit counterintuitive—and he'd be seeing god, if anyone.

once leon finally pulled up to the quaint little townhouse the two of you owned together, he parked the car, pulling the keys out of the ignition and shoving them into the pocket of his black cargo pants. with a soft sigh, he quietly shut the car door, and walked up the steps to the front door. the rain had calmed down a bit, simply drizzling now. 

knock, knock, knock . his fisted hand gently rapped against the door a few times, but to leon's dismay, he still hadn't heard your footsteps leading up to him. it then hit him that it was one in the morning, and it was more than likely that you'd fallen asleep—possibly from staying up for him. a frown creased onto his lips, upset with himself for coming back so late. even if it wasn't his fault, he still felt guilty. despite how much you reassured him, leon always thought you could a whole lot better than him.

reluctantly, leon pulled his set of house keys out of his pocket, and slid the metal through the lock, opening the door with a click . inside was dark, quiet…yet peaceful. as he padded across the area, the floorboards lightly creaking beneath his feet, he took notice of how clean it was; someone had used their time wisely, he thought with a smile. well, either that, or you had just gotten so bored out of your mind waiting for him. he was well aware of how antsy you'd get on the days you knew he was coming back.

leon was also now aware of how disappointed you probably were now, seeing as he came back far later than anticipated. 

that's when his eyes land upon you, snoring away softly on the sofa, and—just like he imagined—curled up beneath a warm, knitted blanket. the open tv cast a soft glow across the tidy living room, alongside a few warm-scented candles you had lit. that, alongside the rhythmic thrumming of the rain against the windowpane, made for a very cozy atmosphere. leon took careful steps towards the couch, kneeling down in front of you. 

"i'm sorry, angel," leon mumbled, his voice soft as to not wake you up. he brushed a few stray strands of hair behind your ear, the contrasting feeling of his calloused fingers against your soft skin roused you a bit, causing you to stir in place. leon chuckled at your tired grumbles, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

the kiss is what fully wakes you up, instantly jolting upwards, sitting yourself upright. the blanket rustles around you as your sleepy eyes widen, registering the fact that your boyfriend—that you hadn't seen in two weeks—was right in front of you, giving you the softest smile. "leon?" you muttered, still in disbelief.

"go back to sleep baby, we can talk in the morning," he said, peppering gentle kisses across your face. your skin burns beneath his lips, any feelings of exhaustion slowly slipping away. if leon really wanted you to go back to sleep, he damn well knew better than to act all sappy like this.

"no, no, no," you quickly—and incoherently—mumbled, blinking a few times to adjust your eyesight, "it's okay, i'm not sleepy. i was waiting on you anyway," that's when you started to excitedly ramble, "i just…forget about me, what kept you so long?" you raised a curious eyebrow. "something bad happened?"

"nah," leon shook his head, still smiling—god, it felt so good seeing you after so long. "writing up that report took a little longer than anticipated. i'm really sorry, pretty." his smile then shifted into a frown, a soft sigh escaping from the depth of his lungs. "so sorry," he whispered as he kissed your lips for a quick second. 

the look of pure anguish contorted on his sharp features sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. despite how tired you were, seeing leon look so upset over the fact that he couldn't see you sooner made your mind dizzy with love. 

"that's okay. it happens. i understand." you replied honestly. you were aware of leon's job before getting wrapped up in a relationship with him. and you also knew just how much this man loved you, even if he couldn't see how amazing he was. flaws were human, you'd tell him. people tended to forget that—leon might be a zombie-killing machine, but deep down, he was only a man. one with feelings and emotions. 

dating leon made you feel like such a special girl. he was a closed-off, reserved man. just one quick look at him and you could tell that he most definitely could kill a man with his bare hands alone—if he wanted to, that is. he was cold, intimidating, and brutal on the field. but you didn't see that side of him. 

no, you saw a total sweetheart. in your presence, leon was a complete softie. it was actually quite adorable seeing him sleepily pouring himself a cup of coffee at the crack of dawn, dressed only in loose pajama pants, his chiseled abs put on display just for you . his blonde hair framed his face so perfectly, the soft strands falling in front of his face. despite being a total fucking unit, having biceps nearly bigger than your face, he was so gentle with you, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll. 

at least, he tried to be, but sometimes he got a little… carried away .

you were the person who got to see him leaning over the bathroom sink, holding a razor to the lower half of his face, shaving away the light stubble that had formed after neglecting the duty for a few days simply because he got too lazy. you saw him narrowing his eyes at the god awful instruction booklet that came with ikea furniture as he attempted assembling a new bookcase. you loved the way he would sometimes squint while looking at something afar, then claiming he "didn't need glasses" when you pointed it out. 

it was so raw, so real. 

leon just sighed, shaking his head in disbelief, "you do realize you are too sweet for your own good sometimes, right? you should be upset i was late, i promised i'd be home for dinner." he chuckled dryly, climbing onto the sofa and taking a seat right next to you, sitting above the comforter. 

"i dunno what i'd do without you," his gaze was trained on you, admiring how pretty you were in this state—with messy hair, half-lidded eyes, and puffy cheeks. "i love you so much." would it be too awkward to mention that he'd marry you in a heartbeat at this time of night? probably.

you can only laugh in response, trying to downplay how much his words were affecting you. "you're so corny. i love you too, lee." yeah, if he was so corny, then why was your heart beating of your chest?

leon was being dead serious, even if his execution made it seem like he was just playing around. you were his light in the darkness, his sole comfort amidst his disastrous life.

he slid his brown leather jacket off, letting it fall to the ground. your eyes fall to his arms and how yummy they look in his compression shirt. would it be weird to say you just wanted to take a bite out of them sometimes? lovingly, of course. "i missed you," leon mumbled, his own voice taking on a sleepy lilt. 

"me too." you shook your way out from beneath the thick blanket, scooting closer to your precious boyfriend. you cradle his cheeks with your hands, smiling as you stared into his icy blues. his eyes really were to die for, you could just get lost in them sometimes. he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. you go in for a kiss, soft lips meshing with his chapped ones. 

the action elicits a soft, content sigh from leon, his big hands running up and down your back above your thin tank top as the two of you stayed like that for a few moments, lips moving against one another languidly. your chest presses up against his, sending a pleasant rush through leon's veins. when you two pull away for air, a bit breathless and frazzled, you can only marvel at the sight of him before you.

his lips were parted, taking slow and deliberate breaths, his pale cheeks now a little rosy, and his tired eyes now glazed with lust, drunk on your lips alone. you chuckle softly, your hands still cradling his cheeks as you brush your thumb over his bottom lip. he kisses the tip of it, allowing you to slid it between his lips for a split second. it's so awfully intimate, causing waves of satisfaction to wash over leon. 

that's when you plunge right back in, this time your tongue slipping past his lips, interlocking with his. he moans so softly, his hands roughly gripping your hips, drawing out a sigh of your own. leon mutters hoarsely, "you're too good for me, sweetheart. way too good. what did i do to deserve you?" he's still so in disbelief that a precious thing like yourself is all his .

this causes you to part again, a slight look of confusion crossing your features. "are you serious, leon? what didn't you do?" you shake your head, sighing. "you're way too hard on yourself, baby. i swear, i've never had a man that's as perfect as you before, regardless of what you might think. you deserve this. you deserve everything after what you've been through." 

you loop your arms around him tightly, hugging him as your bury your face in his chest. your thumb traces little circles on his back, as you whisper, "don't ever think you aren't enough." that was a little something you'd picked up on in the three years you'd been dating leon. he was very unsure of himself. he didn't deem himself worthy of love, no less the amount you poured out for him.

"i love you, in all your blonde glory," you chuckled, not wanting to sound too deep, even if your words carried an incredibly heavy weight.

leon couldn't help but feel a swell of emotions all at once, instinctively holding you even tighter, pulling you close and never wanting to let go of you. not even for a single second. "you're so corny," he mocked, letting out a light laugh as he pressed a kiss on top of your head. god, you fit him just like a puzzle piece.

"it's all your fault, asshole. you started it." you grin, lifting your head up from his chest, and leaning into kiss his perfect lips again. 

"hmm," leon mumbled, a low chuckle erupting from his throat, "guess that's too bad, then." 

finally, after kissing him for a good several minutes, taking labored breaths through your nose, you pulled apart, a thin trail of your mixed saliva following suit, now dripping down your chin. you chuckled, wiping it away with the back of your hand. your hips shift a bit suggestively as you climb off of his lap, causing leon to inhale sharply. 

"you need a shower. i'm going to bed." is what you say with a snicker as you turn on your heel, padding across the wooden floors to your shared bedroom. leon just scoffs, and shakes his head, watching as you stumble away from him.

"that's not fair." he grumbled to himself, his hands falling to his thighs.

he did tell you to go back to sleep earlier, though. damn it. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo going berserk after his wife got injured

Pairing: husband!Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: slight injury, language, Gojo being really mad lol

Notes: My dearest @hitori979, this one is dedicated to you! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for supporting me since day 0, always liking and commenting my brainrot. I hope you enjoy this fanfic as a little thank you from me 🤍 How other JJK men react when (y/n) gets hurt here Choso with injured (y/n) who has blood phobia here

„Do you really have to go, babe?“, Satoru’s oh so sweet voice mumbles against your neck.

You know exactly what he’s up to. Satoru always acts this way when you’re about to leave for a mission. How much he hates to see you walk through the door. While he’s fully aware of the fact that you’re a damn strong jujutsu sorcerer, he just dislikes the thought of you getting injured on some stupid mission. If he had it his way, you would stay at home, maybe teach here and there at Jujutsu High, but that’s it.

You are way too precious to risk your life on a mission.

“You know I have to. This is my job, remember? And I have to let you go every day, knowing that you’re not even paying attention. May I remind you that I haven’t been injured for over a year?”, you softly reply.

“That’s not true, I am paying attention!”

You raise your eyebrow demandingly by the way he ignored your last question.

“At least sometimes…Come on babe, this is not fair! Just because you haven’t been injured for some time doesn’t mean you won’t get injured today! Also, I wanted to spend the day with you!”, he complains, arms wrapped around your frame so tightly that it’s getting hard to breathe.

“You always want to spend the day with me. As much as I’d love to stay here, I have to go. Megumi will assist me.”

“I should assist you…”, he mumbles.

“They wouldn’t even send me, then”, you chuckle.

“Promise that you’ll text me, I already threatened Megumi to take care of you.”

“I will, darling. Now let me go or I’ll be late.”

With one last grumble and kiss, he finally lets go of you while you smile to yourself. God, how much you adore your husband. Even though it can be quite challenging from time to time, you admire the way he cares about you.

“I love you”, you shout before you close the door behind you.

“Love you too!”

-later-

“Don’t worry, one or two hours and we’ll be done with this”, you reassure Megumi who stands beside you.

“This doesn’t look good”, he comments.

Unfortunately, he’s right. You don’t know why there are so many curses around, but an uneasy feeling spreads in your guts. This isn’t the right place for a grade 2 sorcerer, let alone a first class student. Well, maybe even you…

“Try to stay behind me. This will get ugly”, you instruct Megumi when another wave of curses appears.

“Gojo-sensei will kill me if you get injured because of me.”

You wink at him while as you unsheathe your sword.

“Who said I will?”

Without wasting another precious minute you sprint forwards, eyes darting around the area. There are so many, way too fucking many, curses around here. This isn’t normal, something is very wrong here. But you don’t have time to think about it any further – Megumi’s and your life depend on your abilities.

You fight off more than 40 curses with ease, slashing your sword over and over. Fuck, this has no end. As soon as you exorcise one curse, two more appear on your sides and try to attack you. With every passing minute it becomes clearer and clearer to you that you won’t be able to complete this mission unscathed with Megumi alone.

“Here are many curses around, I can’t explain why though. It wouldn’t hurt to send some help”, you instruct into your headphone, fully aware of the fact that your husband is able to hear your decent cry for help as well and might freak out.

Where do all of these curses come from? This is a public place, it shouldn’t be possible for them to develop here this well. Expect this aren’t traditional curses…

“I won’t lie to you: Something’s off here. I’m not entirely sure if these are normal curses. Just stand your ground, I already informed the higher ups about this”, you inform Megumi with firm voice, fighting off a curse just before it is able to scratch your face open.

They come from all directions, almost absorbing you. Desperately you fight back with all your abilities, holding onto your sword so tight that your knuckles stand out white. You have to get through all of these curses, you have to find out why they’re here and why on earth so numerous.

But you can’t. Your thoughts wander to Satoru and his words this morning. He’ll definitely go insane when he hears about this. And for a moment, a wave of relief washes over you by that thought. Because this means he’ll come here and end this madness without Megumi getting hurt.

Megumi.

You almost miss the way a curse lunges from behind towards him while he’s busy fighting off three other ones at the same time. Instinctively you sprint forwards as fast as your feet carry you, breath going sharp and fast. No way in hell this thing will hurt Megumi. Not when you’re in charge.

“Bend over!”, you scream on top of your lungs, blade already on its way to cut through that curse.

But just before you hit it, its claws find their way into your face, scratching your forehead slightly before it falls to the ground lifelessly.

You hiss, a stinging pain crawling up your skin. But when you gently scan the spot with your fingertips, only a minor stain of blood shows itself. You let out your breath, relief flooding your body. This is nothing serious, nothing to worry about.

But before you sprint back in action, a reflex holds you back.

“Don’t move an inch, Megumi”, you warn the boy next to you.

In the split of a second, a wave of hollow purple rushes past your orbs, killing every curse on its way. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heartbeat picking up in an instant. It’s him. It has to be him.

“(y/n)!”, he cries out, large frame suddenly by your side.

“What is this?”, he hisses.

Frantically, his eyes scan your forehead, widen in blank horror.

“Oh, this? Just a minor wound, nothing to worry ab-“

“Nothing to worry about!? You promised to be careful, you promised not to get hurt!”, he literally scolds you while his fingertips inspect your wound.

“Stop that”, you warn him, slapping his hand away.

“I did the best I could but they were just too many. And there are always more to come, look.”

Not even a minute later, dozens of new curses begin to flood the streets.

“We need to get back to work!”

“No”, he interrupts you roughly.

“Not you, you’ll stay here.”

You can’t believe your ears, mouth too stunned to speak for a second. He can’t be serious, right? This is your mission. You won’t give up because a small wound on your forehead that isn’t even bleeding severely.

“This is my mission, Satoru. I will help you exorcising these curses”, you state in all seriousness.

“Oh yeah? Watch me, then.”

You aren’t able to react any further. With breathtaking speed, Satoru lunges from curse to curse, ripping their heads off in the most violent way you have ever seen while all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. Of course you always knew that your husband is not to be trifled with when it comes to his precious wife, but you’ve never thought that his concern would reach as far as him going berserk because of you.

Because of a minor laceration on your forehead.

It doesn’t even take him 30 seconds to kill all the curses entirely, leaving you completely speechless and a little dizzy. When he walks towards you, a maniac smile is plastered on his blood-covered face.

“No one is hurting my wife and gets away with it. Especially not some random curse”, he announces under his breath, gaze still stone cold.

“How are you feeling, love? Is your head doing okay? Did you get injured somewhere else?”

As soon as his eyes meet yours, they are filled with nothing but concern and love, making your heart skip a beat.

“N-No…I’m fine…”, you stutter while getting lost in his bright blue orbs all over again.

His hands roam around your body gently, gaze scanning every inch of you with that worried expression plastered on his face. Moments like these show you with all urgency how much you really mean to your husband.

“I will kill every single curse walking on this earth to save you, (y/n)”, he speaks out with low voice, lips hungrily brushing over yours so strongly expressed that you feel like fainting.

“I’m sorry you were worried”, you mumble against his mouth.

“You’ll never get hurt by a curse again. I’ll make sure of that.”

[fireheartpages]

like they do in babylon | l.m.

liam mairi x reader (for now…)

series masterlist

summary: “but if all you can ask for at present are two feet on solid ground and your best friend next to you, then maybe you have a chance of surviving this hellscape.”

word count: 4.5k

notes: 2nd pov, she/her reader, and i gave the reader a last name (bishop). mentions of parental death, canon typical violence, liam mairi is a certified idiot™. spoilers. so many spoilers. through FW for this chapter, but by the next chapter there will be OS spoilers. for the love of god please do not spoil yourself. anywhooooooo i have been sitting on this bad boy for a FAT minute. get ready for angst, no one comes out unscathed. also, this is gonna be a love triangle. i don’t wanna hear it, i love a good love triangle and i poured my heart and soul into this one. if RY won’t do it, i will! mwah ha ha ha ha song link :)

Your balance is shit.

Liam’s up ahead of you, making the parapet look like a child’s balance beam, and you’re teetering like baby deer forty-five minutes after it was born. This really is designed to kill you.

He hadn’t even said goodbye. Just gave you a “see you on the other side” and started walking, started making you look bad in front of everyone. You literally come from the same place, were trained together, and yet he can walk the parapet—you, decidedly, cannot. Did he mean he’d see you after your souls were condemned to Malek? ‘Cause that’s what it’s looking like.

The end is maybe ten paces away. Ten steps between you and glorious, solid ground. How the hell were you going to be a dragon rider when you were afraid of heights? That’s a later problem. The problem at hand was not slipping and falling in the gods-awful rain.

Liam lands with the grace of a trained dancer on the other side, like he’s done this a million times before. You’re going to make it across this damn bridge just so you can smack him upside the head for that.

He turns around and he’s got that pretty smile pinned on you—the one that makes you feel a lot more than you should be feeling for your best friend—all white teeth and big, blue eyes. Fuck him. Like, sincerely fuck him.

You’re maybe five paces away, practically touching the alcove when a gust of wind blows through the valley so strongly that you sway—you falter. You see it in Liam’s expression. He panics, toothy grin snapping shut and baby blues going wide. You suck in a breath, lean against the wind.

You’re falling the other way now and the wind is no longer helpful in correcting you.

Your flail, and your leg swings out to counter your weight. You’re righted again, two feet firmly on the line of brick, and you suck in a deep breath. There’s no place for fear on the Parapet. (That’s what everyone says about everything in this hell hole.) Yeah, sure, deep breath, and another step. And another, and another, and another, until—

Two feet. Solid ground. Big ass arms wrapping around you.

“Li—”

“You made it!”

“I’m going to murder you—”

“Can’t do that in front of Executive Officers.” Wait, that isn’t Liam’s voice, it’s—

Xaden.

You tear out of Liam’s arms, twisting until you spot him, and you’re more teary-eyed than you’d care to admit. Two years stretched between you, and suddenly the weight of it is there. The weeks before he’d left had been hectic, barely pausing for long enough to pat you on the shoulder and start an argument with Brennan. And then he had left with Garrick, and then Bodhi and Imogen had gone, and now he was here, in front of you, and he was a godsdamned dragon rider. You have a whole year of seeing him every day now, seeing the people you knew like family, and despite the circumstances, it all felt right.

"You did good, B," Xaden whispers, a hand on your shoulder.

You pull back with a wince. "You don’t really have to call me that anymore. No one to differentiate me from."

"Good luck with that," Liam mumbled from behind you, and when you turn around, theres a glint in his eye—a little mischief, a little intrigue, but mostly understanding. It turns your stomach over in a way you didn't want to acknowledge, and it’s the last part that inclines you to let it slide.

"Go give your name to the roll keep. I'll get you in my Wing." He steps away from you, a clear signal the theatrics are over, to fall in line. You give him a mock salute. He rolls his eyes, and you hear Liam laugh behind you.

Second squad, Tail section, Fourth Wing, and a smiling Bodhi greet you and Liam as you file into place in formation. The summer heat is oppressive in the all-black outfit you’re sporting, courtesy of Brennan and his Infinite Knowledge of Basgiath War College, but if all you can ask for at present are two feet on solid ground and your best friend next to you, then maybe you have a chance of surviving this hellscape.

“Hi.”

The voice belongs to someone over your right shoulder, and you chance a look—flat lipped smile conveying the what the fuck you’re feeling since you’re fairly certain the dragons will come down and rip you apart for not paying attention the Xaden’s speech up on the dais.

“I’m Brinn.”

She keeps speaking. You give her another not-smile, and introduce yourself.

“B,” Liam hisses. You bring your gaze forward again and swear you can feel Xaden’s attention on you.

The girl’s bright brown eyes dance between you, and you swear you can feel her gearing up to say something else.

“I’m making friends.”

Is this girl serious? You turn to look at you over your shoulder, and she’s fucking beaming at you. You take a moment to survey her: wild brown hair in a braid down to her waist, a cream tunic paired with black trousers, and attention that is anywhere but where it should be. She’s like a ball of energy and excitement all wound up and ready to spring. You roll your eyes.

“I heard they torch cadets that don’t pay attention to formation,” you respond.

“Torch?”

You turn back, arching a brow. “Like, with dragons?”

“There are no dragons here yet,” Brinn responds sagely. “But I think they’re gonna be here soon. Have you ever seen a dragon?”

You blink. “One killed my parents.”

She sucks a breath through her teeth, a look of genuine remorse and something else etching into her face. “Oof. That’s rough. Mine were killed by gryphons.”

It’s enough to make you almost turn fully to her. She has Liam’s attention now, too, and you share a look with him.

“Look, we’re trauma bonding,” she says in a half-whisper. “Besties!”

And you can’t help it—you laugh. Just a little. Really, genuinely laugh.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

Dragons are, in fact, as fucking terrifying the second time you lay eyes on the species as the first. But the novelty wears off, which is good, you guess, considering soon you’ll be riding one. A thought that is borderline more terrifying than the fire itself.

It’s no more than a month into the year before you realize just how seriously—or, unseriously—people take training for the riders’ quadrant. Your squad has six first years, three second years, and a lone third year and squad leader. Smaller than most of the others, and you and Liam are, of course, the only Marked ones.

Other than one of the first years, Des, who practically bares his teeth and snaps at the pair of you any time you’re in his vicinity, everyone else is surprisingly unaffected by the relic. Which is honestly more than you could have asked for. The other two first years, Micha and June, are kind to you. One second year, Ollid, seems indifferent, another, Caelum, is too reserved to anyone but Ellis for you to get a read on—and you cannot for the life of you figure out the dynamic between the latter two. Your squad leader, Lumen, the only third year, just seems like he got the job because nobody else wanted it.

Classes are easier than you’d expected, too. Math and physics are practically no brainers, you’re surprised with how much you can get away with in history by just regurgitating answers you think a Navarrian would want to hear. Battle Brief is tougher. Definitely going to be a learned skill, but not impossible. Weeding through what you know versus what they are expecting for an answer is going to be a delicate line to walk, though. Liam, naturally, excels at everything.

Surprisingly, so does Brinn. And moreover, she is an excellent strategist. Even slipping you a few answers in Battle Brief that Professor Devera, kindly, doesn’t call you out on. You’re always send her a soft, hesitant thank you, but the way she beams and sends you an exaggerated thumbs up makes you glad no one’s attention is on you.

Besides Des, who seems to have hawk-eyed for any movement a Marked one makes. He always delivers a scrutinizing glare to Brinn, but she never falters. You’re honestly unsure anything could make her falter.

Sparring was the one thing you worried about, no matter how practiced you were—which was not nearly as much as Liam, much to your dissatisfaction. It was no surprise the hulking mass of a man was good at hand-to-hand, but even though you were in the same squad, and therefore meant to be encouraging one another, you would be remiss if you didn’t at least try to poke a hole in his perfect facade. Even after he took you down on the mat time and time again.

So, when assessment day rolled around, and you watched Emetterio point to Des, then to you, you had half the mind to be relieved Liam wasn’t up against you. The other half was a bit worried at the idea of sparring with someone that was probably out for blood. But, hey, he can’t kill you. Right?

You weren’t so sure as you took the mat, Des’s glare sticking you in place as you felt your heart ratchet up. He was tall, sure, but he didn’t have nearly as much muscle packed on him as Liam or Xaden, and you’d been training with them since you were a teenager. You took a deep breath, breathing in for a four count, holding for three, and out for five. You were not about to let some bigot get the best of you.

So, when he threw the first punch—of course—you used your size to your advantage and ducked. It was clear he had some power, but there wasn’t nearly enough follow through on it. He seemed to miscalculate, stepping forward, and you were at the perfect level now to throw an elbow into the back of his knee and land him face-first against the mat.

All you had to do was glance up to see Liam’s smile, trained on you.

Gods, this guy was an idiot. An idiot that was going to get himself killed if he fought like this in battle. You would have loved to see him go up against an actual opponent.

He rolled onto his back and made to kip, but not before you spun to meet his groin to the heel of your foot. To his credit, the only reaction he made was a sound of discomfort before he was pushing up, but all it took was a punch to the nose before he was back down again. There was the tell-tale crack, and then his hands were cradling his face, blood already smearing as he groaned. You laid a hand flat on his chest.

“Yield?” you ask, cocky with it.

Anger flared in his eyes, and he reached for you, bloody hands grabbing for the sides of your face—to do what, you weren’t sure—but you scrambled back. You rolled into a crouch and kicked, sweeping the feet he’d gained out from under him, and he fell forward on his already-broken nose.

“This is painful,” you heard Lumen mutter from behind you. Then, Emetterio, louder, “He yields, Bishop.”

You stand, offering Des a hand that he doesn’t take.

“Ollid, take him to the healers before he bleeds all over everything,” Lumen says, ushering Des off the mat.

You’re smirking when you step off, and Brinn offers you a towel and points to the spot on your neck where his bloody fingertips had grazed. You give her a nod of thanks, wiping at your skin before crouching to clean the mat.

“Brinn and Liam,” Emetterio calls as you rise, and you turn to face your squad mates with raised eyebrows. “You two are up.”

You toss Lumen the towel, locking eyes with Liam before you turn to look at Brinn. “Kick his ass for me?”

Brinn throws her head back and laughs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll do my best.”

You look over at the rest of your squad, seeing Micha and June—the latter sporting a quickly blackening eye, even after winning her match against the former—watching with rapt interest. Caelum wasn’t anywhere near paying attention, but Ellis looked like she was watching a sporting event. She held out a closed fist to you.

“Badass, little B,” she said.

The name sent a shock through you, and your smile fell, even as you bumped your fist against hers. Suddenly, your focus was on not letting your chest physically cave in.

“She’s big B,” Liam calls, because of course he heard the exchange. He probably read your demeanor change even from the distance.

“Nah,” Ellis laughs. “First years are all little, at least until threshing.”

“My sister,” you said, speaking past the emotion, “was always little B.”

“Aw,” Ellis croons, not missing a beat. “I landed on a family nickname.”

And something about the way she said it, the smile she sent you, set you right again. She didn’t even have to acknowledge it.

Your turn and place your back flat against the wall, your shoulder a healthy distance away from Ellis’. It seems the remaining members of your squad are just as eager to watch the match between Brinn and Liam. All eyes are trained on them as they step up, equidistance apart and beginning to circle.

Brinn is a fucking powerhouse—she’s all lean, packed muscle and an insanely quick mind. She’s a fast thinker and a brilliant strategist. She has enough confidence to make you really think she has any situation under control.

But, Liam… he’s just fucking huge.

He’s got six inches minimum on Brinn, and not to mention one of his thighs is probably the size of her head. He’d been training for the quadrant since he was a teenager, and if Xaden was anything to go by, the Lindell household was a formidable one. It turned out warriors.

But, by Dunne, if there isn’t a glint in Brinn’s eye that gave you the sneaking suspicion she might win this thing.

Something in Liam’s expression twists as he looks at Brinn, readying herself in a defensive position, and you could tell he was hanging back. He doesn’t want to make the first hit. It was obvious. But Brinn is all mirth as she looks up at him, as if daring him to try.

And try he does, but Brinn is powerful, and Liam had underestimated her. He throws the first punch, and she catches it, wrenching his arm behind him as she slips out of his reach. He winces, spinning around to try and grab her again, but she lands a quick jab to his ribs that doubles him over.

“Are you serious?” Liam groans.

“Are you taking it easy on me?” Brinn taunts him.

“No,” he mumbles, and it’s evident it’s a split second decision. A reassessment in his gaze as he calculates her threat level, sizing her up as a different breed of opponent.

You know Liam, you know him intimately, and you know the way his brain works. He doesn’t hurt his friends, and somewhere between the wide smiles and quiet remarks, Brinn was categorized as one now. Despite his hulking frame and brutal training, Liam is gentle at heart. You’ve seen him take spiders outside instead of killing them, just because he felt bad.

You can’t help but laugh, feeling lucky you weren’t paired against him. You don’t envy either of them. You weren’t sure you’d be able to take either of them down in the same situation.

Brinn is the first to lunge this time, a pattern of punches so quick Liam has no choice but to fall back onto the defensive, hands flying to block any from striking where it would hurt the most. He spins around, kicking back and making contact with the back of her knees, but Brinn is ready for it, twisting her body so she falls on her back and letter her momentum throw her into a backwards roll until she’s in a crouch. She springs up again, and Liam is there, throwing a punch out that makes contact with her jaw.

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, as if it’s a reflex, and you hear a laugh from beside you.

“Seriously, Mairi?” It was Lumen, watching them fight, and you see Professor Emetterio next to him, observing the match with rapt interest. His bushy eyebrows are raised in the biggest display of a reaction you’ve seen from him, and a quick glance around the room tells you he’s not the only one whose attention has been snagged.

Brinn seems impossible to knock off course, though. She barely even falters after the punch, immediately launching into her next attack with so much force you start to wonder where she’s hiding all of the muscle that has to be powering her. It’s incredible to see. Liam has yet to lose a match, but she’s giving him a run for his money.

She lands another good punch to his throat, so hard you know it’s going to bruise, and she’d downright giddy as she dances around him. She spins, and you can tell by the way she shifts her weight that she’s prepping for a kick. The tell is evident, and there’s a piece of you that’s hoping Liam is too distracted to notice as well.

Unfortunately for Brinn, he isn’t. She goes to kick, and with one step back, he’s there to grab her leg, pulling until she’s on her back, slamming into the mat. She recovers quickly, knocking into his ribs with a jab you know has to hurt, but not before he lands a punch that you know will bruise.

You had spent the latter half of your adolescence watching Liam spar with Xaden, or Garrick, or Bodhi, or Imogen, and yet this had to be the most entertaining match you had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

By the end of it, both parties are breathless, bloody, and bruised. Liam, with so much exhaustion lining his face you were worried he was going to pass out on top of her, ends up with his entire body pinning Brinn down, bracing a bit of his weight on a forearm near her head as her front is pressed into the mat. He pants out, “Yield, please.”

Brinn looks just as worn as Liam does as she lifts a hand to tap the mat twice, and Emetterio calls the match begrudgingly for Liam. They both limp over to you, purpling bruises littering each of their faces, and Liam is pressing a hand gently to his ribs while Brinn favors her left foot.

You’d imagine your face reads the precise amount of shock you’re feeling. All you end up saying though is, “What the hell?”

“You pack a punch,” Liam pants, addressing Brinn.

She just shrugs, a smirk lining her split lip.

“Are you okay?” you ask her.

Humor dances in her eyes as she answers. “I’ll live.”

You cut a glare at Liam, who balks in response.

“Are you serious? What did I do?” he asks indignantly.

“You beat her up!” you squawk, and try to remain serious, because you are concerned about your friends, but you can’t help but relish in the way shock colors his features at your teasing.

“It’s assessment, B! I didn’t mean to hurt—”

He doesn’t make it much farther before Brinn bursts out laughing, and you dissolve into a pit of giggles right there beside her.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

“You’re sure we’re not going to get caught?”

Liam cuts you a sideways glance as the two of you make your way across the field together, back to the dorms. “You heard what X said, he and Garrick have been doing this since their first year,” he says. “Helped Bodhi through his, too.”

“This share-the-wealth situation seems a little outside them,” you volley, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I guess so.”

“Why’d you go? Not like you need any help,” you mumble. Because it’s true. Liam hasn’t so much as lost a match. At this point, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t know how to take second place.

You’re not too far behind him, and neither is Brinn. But it’s nearly impossible to catch up to him. Micha and June aren’t doing terrible either, and even Des has started to shut up when he realized just how lacking in the hand-to-hand department he is. Liam might be leaps and bounds ahead of the rest of you, but you’re pretty sure that if the rest of you remain steady, with the advantage Liam give you, once Squad Battles roll around, they’re going to be an easy victory.

Maybe your sleuth leaves something to be desired though, because as you all break from the meetings the Marked ones held under the massive oak, you’re absolutely convinced someone is going to spot your duo. Even though it is only the two of you now, and it’s no longer a capital fucking offense.

“You were there,” he answers, like it’s obvious. “Did you see the way Ellis and Ollid were looking at each other after dinner today?”

Your head whips towards him. “Are you… gossiping?”

“You seem nervous.” He shrugs. “I’m distracting.”

You can’t help but laugh. “I don’t know how everyone in this school hasn’t caught chlamydia by now,” you answer. “I thought there was something between her and Caelum. She’s like the only person I’ve ever seen him talk to.”

“Maybe they’re a throuple,” Liam says dryly.

You can’t help but throw your head back, immediately panicking because fuck, you’re being too loud, and—

“B? Liam?”

There’s a voice that sounds out of breath, and then footsteps crunching over the gravel. In your panic, you don’t even bother to register the voice. You feel Liam tense next to you, and you quickly calculate all the ways to get out of this situation, all the lies based off who could have caught you. Who is even out here after curfew like this? Crazy people. And you qualify, and so does Liam.

And Brinn, apparently, who is who you see as you spin, clamping down on your panic. She jogs up to you, black sparring leathers sticking to her sweat-soaked skin. Her brown hair is pulled back from her face, but by how loose the tie is, it’s clear she’s been out here for a while just… running?

“Brinn,” you say in lieu of greeting, relief a fickle thing as you see her glance at a cluster of other Marked ones walking behind you. You catalogue the way her eyes flit over them, then back to you. Still, you can’t help but arch a brow at her. “Out for a night cap?”

The way Brinn laughs always seems to capture your attention. It puts you at ease, watching the way she is almost surprised by it, like her own joy caught her off guard. That’s the way she laughs as she looks at the two of you, and you feel a bit of the tension in your body release.

“I have to tire myself out at night, or I’ll never make it to bed,” she says, propping her hands on her hips as her breathing begins to even out. “Figured I might as well make use of it and do something productive with the way they run us ragged around here.”

“Being run ragged isn’t enough to tire you out?” you ask, incredulously.

She shrugs. “My stamina is legendary.” The throws you a wink, and you can’t help but return her smile. “Though, It looks like you two had the same idea?”

Liam quickly shakes his head, and the way you cut your eyes at him is involuntary.

“Listen, a field after dark with a ton of people around isn’t my forte, but if it’s what you two are into—”

“No!” Liam says, correcting her quickly, and it’s practically a shout.

You ignore the way it stings.

“We went for a walk,” you explain, opting for half-truths, because something about lying to Brinn made you feel ill. “I like the trees around here. The creek.”

“The trees,” Brinn says, arching a darkly defined brow at you.

You shrug. “Privacy.”

From the way her eyes light up, you immediately regret saying it. Brinn quickly picks up her feet, moving past you two.

"It's not what you think," Liam says, rushing to correct her, but Brinn isn't giving an inch.

“I’ll leave you to it, then!” she says jogging backwards as she gives you a mock salute. “See you tomorrow for breakfast?”

“Yep!” You hold up a hand, trying not to cringe.

The silence between you and Liam in her absence is deafening—and tense as a bowstring.

“She’s…” Liam began.

“Eclectic,” you finish, and despite how close you were to being caught, despite her insinuation, you were forcing down a smile. Something in your gut told you that Brinn knew you weren’t looking for a quiet place to be alone, or do whatever she implied you were doing. She saw the other marked ones behind you, walking from the same direction in what were hopefully inconspicuous groups. And she poked fun at you instead. Just let it roll off her, and turned back to what she was doing like it wasn’t a big deal.

Maybe you didn’t know her very well, and maybe you would never be able to share all of the parts of you with anyone that isn’t a Marked one, but you knew then:

You had an ally in Brinn.

But from the look on his face, Liam seemed harder to convince. “She’s suspicious,” he said warily.

“She is not,” you say, feeling the urge to defend her.

“It was weird of her to assume…”

You can’t help the way you spin towards him. “Assume what?”

He shrugged, not meeting your eye. “You know, that we…”

“That we what?”

He shook his head. “It felt like a deflection.”

Something stung. Deep in your chest, something stung. You frown. “The idea of it is so outlandish you’d rather her accuse us of treason than hooking up?”

Liam’s head whipped towards you. “No, I just think we need to be wary of her.”

“Wary?” you ask, appalled. “She has been nothing but nice to us.”

“Nice people can still be suspicious, B. Not all of them are like Des, constantly throwing it in our face that they hate us,” he retorts.

You reel back. “She saw the other Marked ones, you’re right, and she didn’t say anything. She’s keeping it to herself.”

“She literally ran away from us,” he says, and you barely recognize the look in his eye. “Who knows who she’s off telling! You need to be more careful.”

You scoff. “You’re right. Can’t have more people thinking we’re sleeping together.”

You turn on your heel and march away, leaving him calling after you, shouting your name across the courtyard like gasoline in an engine that only makes you walk faster, not even bothering to look back as he catches up to you.

You walk back to the first year dorms in silence.

[juiles]

Hiding it

Requested: yes

Summary: you’ve had adhd your whole life and have managed to keep it from your team and 2 year long girlfriends. They start to get snippy with you and when you get an injury and they find out, you snap a little.

Type: angst and fluff

Pairing: Wandanat x reader

Warnings: swearing, anger, blood, gunshot wound, fighting, yelling, argument

Important questions!!!!

Masterlist here!

Request here!

A/N: so this idea was given to me by a very lovely reader and honestly i fell in love with the idea! I have ADHD and honestly it just gave me some outlet which i needed tbh.

————————————————————

Part 2

It had taken you 18 years to officially get diagnosed with ADHD. Your parents couldn’t have cared less about your well being which is why it took so long. You had been so shamed for the way you were that when you started with the Avengers, you just decided not to tell them. You had your coping skills and your medication. You didn’t need them to think anything less about you. The only person who knew was Cho and that was because she did your prescriptions for you.

You weren’t great at making sure they were refilled and that meant you messed up. Small things that wouldn’t normally set people off however, they were so consistent that people started to notice.

You had been dating Natasha and Wanda for a few years now and had managed to avoid them finding out so far. Perhaps that’s what had gotten you into this predicament. If you had just been honest with them, they wouldn’t have been so mean to you.

——————————————————

“Really y/n?! Again?!” You flinched, hearing Natasha’s voice rise slightly as you two sat in the quinjet while Tony flew you three home. “Why can’t you just pay attention?! God damn it. You could have gotten someone killed!”

You felt like sinking into the seat and disappearing from her line of sight and not saying anything, however that made her more mad. “Really?! You’re going to ignore me?!” She stood up, her hands flying up into the air as she stomped her way into the cockpit leaving you alone to overthink what had just happened.

You had lost track of the snipper that stood on the roof of the building across from you after Tony had mentioned a helicopter near by that you ALSO needed to keep an eye on. You couldn’t keep an eye on both but felt bad so instead of mentioning it to them, you tried to do both and in the attempt, last track of both of them. Luckily, Natasha had gotten the intel quick enough that the three of you were able to get out unscathed. Now it was just having to listen to them both bitch about your mistake.

Once the quinjet landed, you slowly grabbed your things and trudged outside, hoping to have Wanda comfort you but much to your dismay, Natasha had gotten to her first and as soon as the brunette landed her eyes in you, she instantly started berating you for being so careless and “how dare you be so risqué about Nattys life!”. This wasn’t the first time they had yelled at you. Last week, after a mission, the two of them ignored you for 3 days because of an accident you had. This time, instead of taking it, you trudged your way inside and instead of turning left and entering the bedroom the three of you shared, you went up 3 more doors and opened the door on the right to reveal your bedroom.

A room you hadn’t stayed in, in years due to moving into the shared room. You closed the door and threw your duffel on your bed and with a groan, you hauled ass to the bathroom to strip out of your suit and get in the shower. The warm water felt nice against your dirty skin and you relished in it however, the feeling only lasted a moment before you heard a door open and Natasha and Wanda were barging into your room causing you to get out of the shower and change into some spare clothes.

“Seriously y/l/n. That was a really reckless mistake that could have caused a life!” Wanda ranted storming into the room as you opened the bathroom door. “What if Natasha had gotten shot?! Huh?!” The guilt that already gnawed slightly at your stomach intensified as you ducked your head squeezing your eyes shut. “I would have NEVER forgiven you if something had happened to her! Do you understand me?!” You nodded softly before Natasha grabbed the witch’s hand.

“Come on love. Let’s go have a shower hmm?” She said, loud enough for the words to sting you. “I don’t want to see her face right now.” With that the two left, slamming your bedroom door shut, causing you to jump. You stayed in your room for 2 days after that. No one except Pepper cared enough to come and check on you. The woman had been bringing you food, which you barely touched and reminded you to sleep.

On the third day, Fury came knocking and told you that you had a mission and to be in the jet in 15 minutes. You stuffed your duffel bag, threw on your suit and slipped your way to the jet, managing to avoid your angry girlfriends.

The mission, which was supposed to be an easy single person intel recon, turned into a 3 day stakeout where you ended up getting shot in the shoulder at the end right before escaping. Upon your return, you were whisked away to the medbay where Cho, Natasha and Wanda were waiting. The latter two, with angry looking faces. “Come on Y/l/n. Let’s get that stitched up hmm?” Cho said guiding you to sit down as you actively avoided the assassin and the witch standing beside you.

“Where the hell were you?! You didn’t tell anyone you were gone y/n/n! What if you died?!” Wanda said, fear and anger etched into her features.

“It was stupidly reckless y/n.” Natasha said, her face her normal calm facade.

Cho sent the two looks to shut up as she finished stitching you up. “I’m assuming since you were gone for three days that you didn’t take your meds so when you take them tomorrow, remember you’re going to have side effects okay? Also, you need to come and get a refill soon.” Cho said softly to you as she finished up the bandage.

Your eyes widened and your head whipped up to look at her before quickly stealing a glance at the two avengers frozen beside you. “M-medications?! Side effects?!” Natasha stuttered out. “What is she talking about detka?”

Chos eyes widened commically as she looked at you. “I thought they knew! I’m so sorry y/n/n!!” the doctor rushed out. You simply shook your head and muttered an assurance that it was okay before she skittered out the door. You slowly stood with a grunt and brushed past your two girlfriends with the intent to head back to your room to clean up. They followed behind you, scrambling with their words before you quickly stopped and turned on your heel with an angry look on your face.

“Shut up!” You seethed at the two who froze and stared at you wide eyed. “God for once just stop. Not that it’s any of your business but i have ADHD. A pretty severe case and Cho does my meds for me. All those “stupid little reckless mistakes” were caused by something i have NO control over. You two couldn’t have given two shits about me for the past 5 days so why the fuck would you care now?!” You felt all the anger in your body start to boil up. “FUCK!” In a state of anger, you turned around and punched a hole in the wall beside you which caused your knuckles to start bleeding however, it seemed as if you didn’t even notice as you continued to punch the wall with no thought to your safety at all.

The girls were in a state of shock for a moment before Natasha grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you away from the wall, Wanda using her powers to hold your hands still. “Baby stop! Stop! You’re hurting yourself!” Wanda said walking towards your angry looking figure, your eyes narrowed on her as she reached her hand up and cupped your cheek which seemed to snap you back to reality. “Take a deep breath my love. Just take a moment okay?”

Your eyes filled with tears as you stared into her blue eyes then turned to face Natasha’s green ones. “I-I’m sorry… i’m sorry i’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so angry. I c-can’t always stop it.” You muttered pulling your hands to your chest. “Without t-the meds I-I don’t have good control of my emotions… they-they feel like they’re trying to rip through my body…” Wanda merely hushed you as Natasha pulled your shaking form into her body, being extra cautious of the now open and bleeding wound on your shoulder.

“No detka. We’re sorry. Were sorry we couldn’t help you and instead just got angry with you…” Natasha murmured into your hair. “Why didn’t you say anything…?”

You merely shook your head and clutched to her shirt with your bleeding hands as your body began to rack with sobs. “Shhhh… you’re okay malyshka. Let’s go to our room hmm?” You nodded softly as the two lead you into your shared bed and settled down, with you curled up between them. You sat and cried for a while before the sobs turned u to sniffles and Wanda pulled away causing you to whimper.

“I’m just getting the first aid kit my love. We need to restitch your shoulder and bandage your hands okay? I’ll be 2 minutes.” With a kiss pressed to your forehead, the witch shot off and was back in less than a minute with a full first aid kit in hand. You were shifted to be leaning into her warm body as Natasha started cleaning you up. The three of you sat in silence as this happened until you were all bandaged up and securely back in their arms.

“I’m a burden…” You whispered softly. Wanda went to say something but got stopped by a look from Natasha. They knew you needed to get it out. “I’m a burden and weak and stupid. That’s what they called me…”

“Who detka…?”

“My parents… kids at school… teachers…. I was never good enough and when i turned 18 and finally got diagnosed with ADHD it made sense to me but i feel this gnawing shame in my stomach. A shame that was shoved in me from birth. That who I am is nothing more than a burden and no one should have to deal with me. The meds help a lot… i appear almost normal. Those times the boys have jokingly told me I’m annoying and it seems like i have a big reaction to it is because it’s my biggest fear. That my family will leave me again, that everyone i live will get bored with having to help me with everyday tasks and leave me alone again… I know i can be a lot sometimes. I know i can be stand off ish. But i’m scared. I can’t handle losing another family…” You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back the tears as you tried to wriggle out of the girls arms before the two pulled you in tighter and squeezed you, the both pressing kisses to your hair and face while whispering assurances to you.

“No baby. You are not a burden. You are not annoying. You are not too much. You are our perfect girl. We are so sorry we messed up but you need to know that you love you with everything in our hearts and we NEVER want you to be alone again or feel like you’re weak because you’re so strong.” You scoffed lightly rolling your eyes at Wanda’s words.

“You are y/n. You are so strong to be holding all of this to yourself and not be able to tell anyone else but never again okay? From now on, Wanda and I will be here for you. To support you and love you and care for you. In the ways people should have when you were little.” Natasha said, with a finality in her tone and a kiss on your head, making you believe she was telling the truth to some extent.

Of course it wasn’t perfect after that but they kept true to their word. Everyday, the would remind you of their love for you in the small things. They would make sure you had taken your pills and eaten more than an energy drink with them. They would leave kisses on your head as you walked past. They set reminders on their phones to remind you that you had a load of laundry in or that you had said you would do the dishes. Small things to remind you that they will fight by your side through it all. While they may have seemed insignificant to the others, you knew how much these small things meant and you cherished them all.

[daryl-fucking-dixon]

Vamp!Daryl moodboard because oh my god I cannot get enough of him

I’m writing something for him on my main blog, but I also wanna write something else and I also don’t wanna delete what I’m already writing (because Im punishing myself)

I did in fact end up going into detail 🌞(ifykyk)

SOMNOPHILA AND BLOODKINK WARING SOMNOPHILA AND BLOODKINK WARING SOMNOPHILA AND BLOODKINK WARING

There was no place comfier and warmer than cuddled up right in your arms, nuzzled safely against your chest where Daryl’s 30/20 hearing could peacefully listen to the clear beat of your heart. It lulled him into a deep sleep almost every night, belly full and his hunger satisfied.

But a vampire could never be too full, and Daryl Dixon never sleeps without his senses guarding at all times, so the way he jerked slightly at the first hints of blood flooding into his nostrils was inevitable.

You barely stirred, which made it easy for Daryl to slip out of the cage that was your limp arms and quietly inspect your body.

He softly and gently lifted your shirt, helping himself to an eyeful of pretty tits once he determined your torso was unscathed, placing the fabric back down over you. His eyes fluttered down to your panties, brain loading for a moment before he dipped his head down, not even having to inhale before he was hit in the face with the overwhelming smell of blood.

This absolutely horrified him. Why were you bleeding, and why were you bleeding from your cunt? His cold little heart throbbed painfully, and he wasted no time pulling off your undies, shivering at the ruined fabric. It was bad, so bad. You had somehow hurt yourself in a sensitive area and needed obvious help, but first Daryl just had to take a deep whiff of your bloody panties, biting back a guttural moan when the pure smell made him dizzy, eyes almost rolling to the back of his skull as it traveled through his veins and damn-near made him cum. Not even the most expensive cocaine could get him that high.

His mouth was watering from just that alone, trying not to wake you as he quietly gasped for air, having literally suffocated himself in your underwear. He redirected his gaze to you and felt disgusting when he could feel his cock twitch at the sight of your bloody pussy.

No. He needed to help you. You were hurt and he needed to fix it, furrowing his brows as he built up his saliva in his mouth, hoping that if he coated you in enough of it, it would heal you much quicker.

When it was pooled on his tongue, he dropped down to be face to face with your cunt and forcibly swallowed the groan that formed in his throat from the smell wafting into his nose. All five of his senses were sky-high, and your skin almost felt like butter on his fingertips as he spread your bloody lips apart, running his slick tongue from top to bottom.

Your body trembled at the cold sensation, and soft sounds spilling from your lips as you reacted to his touch in your sleep. It made Daryl feel a little guilty, but it would make him feel guiltier if he just left you like this.

There was just blood all over you, and Daryl worked his tongue fervently to clean it all up. He tried not to enjoy it too much, running the wet muscle up the crease where your thigh met your labia, stopping to suck on your clit a little, cleaning off any blood with the tip of his tongue.

He was purposely trying to produce more saliva with every lick, ensuring that wherever your wound is, it’ll be completely coated in his healing spit. He wrapped his arms around your thighs so that he could pull your lower half flush against his face, slipping his tongue into your hole and swirling it around when he could taste the blood pooling inside, this time not being able to fight back his grunt at the taste. Oddly enough, it tasted so much better coming from your pretty pussy.

“Gonna make sure ya feel better doll, gotta make sure m’gorgeous girl is alright” He mumbled out loud but more so to himself, practically nose-deep as he protectively squeezed you impossibly closely, starting to get a little tipsy from all the blood he had already consumed.

You stirred slightly, grunting and wiggling your legs a little as you could feel the sturdy muscle of Daryl’s arms around them, shortly followed by the warm sensation of his muttering and licking between your pussy lips “Mm… Dar?”

He didn’t respond, nor did he move from his position, too far gone and deep between your legs.

“Daryl.” You forced your tired voice to call a little louder, coming out as more of a moan than anything else.

This time the movements of his tongue halted as his ears and head perked up, a very unexpected sight greeting you.

His red eyes were wide as they stared at you, beard stained blood red from where it dribbled down from around his equally stained lips, smeared across the tip of his nose and most likely painting his pink tongue a matching color.

It made you throb slightly, clenching as you softly stared at him. “What’re you doing?”

“Ya started bleedin'– Still don’ know-how, but ya did, ‘nd ‘wanted ta make sure ya’ weren’t hurtin’” He shook his head as he rambled, and you raised a brow at him.

“Bleeding?” You glanced at his position between your legs, and then back to his face, easily connecting the dots with a small ‘oh’ sound. “Oh Daryl, I’m not injured, sweetheart”

He gawked, flickering from your face to your cunt. “Ye-Yer not?”

A giggle rumbled in your chest at his poor ignorance, “No silly! I’m just on my period. It’s just my body getting rid of old blood. I didn’t even know you could eat that” reaching a hand down to cup his sweet messy face, the confused look on his face adorably tugging your heartstrings. Or maybe that’s just your hormones.

“Tasted good ta’ me… old?” Daryl mumbled, brain lagging behind to catch up with the new information that he was receiving.

You nodded, blushing a little at his words. “Old blood, bacteria, all that… how long have you been eating?”

“Not long, think it jus’ started or somethin’” He eyed your pussy, licking his lips. “Can I– Can I keep goin’?”

“Kinda gross don’t you think?” You cringe slightly at the idea of eating period blood, goosebumps dotting your skin.

Daryl scoffed at you, arms pulling you close to his face again as he had full intentions of leaving his plate absolutely clean. “Gross ain’t even in ma’ damn vocabulary”

I need him SO FUCKING BADLYYYABUAINA literally all my problems in life would be completely solved if I had vamp!daryl waking me up with his tongue just because he thought me starting my period was me somehow getting an injury

VAMPIRE DARYL IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE AND I HAVE DECIDED I NOT ONLY WANNA DIE ON THIS HILL BUT I WANNA BE FUCKING BURIED IN IT. SEVEN GODDAMN FEET UNDER.

no I do not care if you dont like this or if it made you uncomfortable have you ever tried reading the warnings or do your eyes only work when you dont fucking want them too

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Thick & Thin- 3 times Ponyboy knew something was wrong with Johnny +1 time Johnny knew something was wrong with Ponyboy

This fic is for the wonderful @trevination as a thank you for running the Valentines Gift Exchange. Thank you for all the work you did-it did not go unnoticed nor unapreciated. I apologize for any mistakes, I'll come back and edit before I post it on ao3

Also, I think its pretty obvious but just in case, in this fic

Darrel= Mr.Curtis, and Darry or Junior = Darry

Enjoy!

***********

***** ONE *********

She’s washing up the dinner dishes, staring out the front window and wondering how she'll be able to convince Sheila Lefaye to hire her to do her summer bookkeeping this year after the boys tore up her lawn, when she feels a tug on her blouse. 

“Mom.”

Ponyboy is there, the red-brown hair he inherited from her dad sticking up every which way, his little feet bare and covered in dirt. He’s got grass stains on his knees, and sunshine on his neck, just like he was always meant to. Soda is all autumn leaves, and Darry was made for winter, but Pony’s only ever been a summer child.

She hums indulgently, scrubbing the casserole dish, frowning when she notices the new chip in the corner. She told Darrel three times to be careful taking it out of the oven, and clearly he hadn’t listened. At least now she knew why he’d been in such a rush to go out to walk the dog, though if he thought he was getting away with it that easy he had another think coming.

“Mom.” 

Ponyboy tugs again, a little more insistently, looking up at her with wide, solemn green eyes. He’s an earnest little thing, always has been, the quietest of her brood, sometimes even quieter than Johnny. 

“Just a second sweetheart.”

She crosses the kitchen in two quick steps, and wrenches open the sliding glass door. 

“Darry Curtis Jr., if I see you flick that lighter at your brother one more time I’m takin’ it and you ain’t gettin’ it back!”

Her eldest grins, sheepish but not all apologetic, and pockets the offending item. Curse Darrel for giving him all his damn castoffs. 

“Sorry mom!”

She gives him one last stern look and closes the door.

“Sorry honey,” she ruffles Ponyboy’s already mussed hair before she sticks her hands back in the dishwater, “what is it you wanted to tell me?”

She’s expecting him to ask for a cookie, or tell her for the third time tonight that he doesn’t want the tooth fairy to take Sodapop away. She’s not sure which of the boys had convinced him the tooth fairy was some sort of ruthless kidnapper, but she was going to have words with whoever it was once she figured it out. She’d yet to convince Ponyboy of Soda’s continued safety or the tooth fairy’s innocence, and the kid had been nearly apoplectic at bedtime for the past week. Soda hadn’t even lost the friggin’ wiggly tooth yet for god's sake!

But Pony doesn’t start crying about the tooth fairy. Instead, he glances over his shoulder, beckoning her closer.

She bends down, scooping him into her arms even though he’s almost six and is really getting too big for it. He leans in close and whispers.

 “Somethin’s wrong with Johnny.”

“Oh,” Frowning, she props him on her hip and peers out the window at where the boys are all huddled in the back corner of the yard, no doubt getting into trouble and determined to hide it. Johnny is there, forever Soda and Steve’s shy, dark haired shadow, but he looks no worse for wear than he had at dinner, his mother’s handprint healing on his cheek, but otherwise unscathed. “Is he hurt?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong with him then?”

“I don’t know,” Pony’s voice is still soft.

“He looks okay to me.” She assures him, cradling him close and pressing a kiss to his temple, “but if he needs anything he knows he can always come to us.”

Pony isn’t soothed. 

“Somethin’s wrong.” He insists, lip wobbling, “Somethin’s wrong with him.”

“Okay, it’s okay,” she tugs his head down to rest on her shoulder. He’s overtired, having spent a long day chasing the bigger boys around, and he’s always had an overactive imagination. She can hardly say she’s surprised at the meltdown. In fact, it’s long overdue, “what makes you say that?”

“He’s- he’s not playin’ right.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Pony sniffles, “he’s- somethin’s wrong.”

“Johnny’s fine, sweetheart. Look.” She points out the window, where the boys have moved on to tossing Darry’s football around, “He’s out there with your brothers and your other friends right now. Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

She puts him down, and he stares up at her balefully for a moment but totters down the step obediently, running over to the rest of the boys. She watches as Johnny breaks from the group to tug Pony next to him, always the first to include him, even though Darry and Soda are the first to protect him. She watches them for a moment, just to see, trying to parse out what might have set him off, but Johnny really does look fine, his usual quietly kind self. 

She watches them play for a minute and goes back to the dishes, thinking that’s the end of it. 

She couldn’t be more wrong.

When bedtime rolls around that night after Steve, Keith, and Johnny have all been sent home, Ponyboy turns into a terror of epic proportions. He wails. He screams. He slaps Darry when he tries to convince him to settle down for a bedtime story, and spends the whole time in time out crying that the tooth fairy is going to get Johnny and they have to go and save him. He’s absolutely inconsolable, and when eleven o’clock rolls around, Darrel offers to take him for a walk in the hopes the night air will calm him down, or at the very least that Darry and Soda can get some sleep. 

It’s blissfully quiet once they leave. She sinks into the armchair with a book, but she’s not even halfway through her chapter when her husband returns with a quiet Ponyboy in tow, who's holding Johnny Cade’s hand tightly, and swaying on his feet. 

She only has to share a look with her husband before she’s ushering both boys down the hall, handing Johnny a pair of Soda’s pajamas and dressing Pony herself, the six year old almost asleep on his feet after all his crying. He’s out completely by the time she’s tucked them both into Pony’s bed with kisses on their foreheads, closing the door quietly behind her.

“What happened?’ She asks, when she gets back to the living room, sinking into Darrel’s side on the couch. His arm comes around her automatically, and she leans into him, inhaling the scent of shaving cream and a mid afternoon slowdance. 

“I found him sleeping in the lot,” Darrel’s voice carries the same anger that she feels everytime Andrew and Henrietta Cade’s son shows the consequences of their sorry excuse of parenting, “said they told him not to come back ‘till tomorrow.”

“This the first time?”

“He says so. I ain’t sure I believe him.”

“He ain’t going back tomorrow.” She vows, “I ain’t lettin’ him go back to get beat on and kicked out again.”

“Josie,” he sighs, weary and hopeless, two things he was never meant to be, “we can’t hold him here. We ain’t got no claim to him.”

“He’s more our son than theirs at this point!”

“I know,” Darrel’s voice is grave, and he’s as serious as he ever gets, “but the law won’t see it that way, and I don’t think Johnny will either.”

She can feel the tears welling, and he must see because he wraps his other arm around her too, holding her tightly. He’s never been able to stand her tears, and because of it she’s never been happier than in her life with him, but this is one pain he can’t heal, one she doesn’t think will ever stop hurting, the pain of a mother who can’t protect her child.

“He deserves so much better.”

“I know.” Darrel says, “I know.”

He holds her while she cries into his shirt. She allows herself three sobs before she pulls herself together, gently disentangling herself from his arms, and wiping at her eyes. 

“C’mon, let’s go to bed. We can talk more about it in the morning.”

She pulls him to his feet, and he stretches, letting out a tired grunt as he follows her to their bedroom.

“At least Pony’s stopped crying.”

“He knew,” she murmurs, as she crawls under the covers and he hits the lamp, “He knew somethin’ was wrong with Johnny. I don’t know how, but he knew.”

Darrel doesn’t say anything. It’s not until he starts snoring lightly that she realizes it’s because he’s already asleep.

************  TWO ********************

It’s four years before it happens again, and by then she’s nearly forgotten about Ponyboy’s precocious six year old escapades, far too busy with keeping a rein on a growing number of preteen boys. 

“Sodapop Curtis you get your ass in here right this instant!”

She knows he knows he’s in trouble, but he still can’t quite wipe the self satisfied smirk off his face as he dutifully swaggers inside, looking for all the world like the cat that caught the canary. Twelve years old now, with all of Darrel’s spirit and his own special flair for the dramatic, he’s one child she can never keep a handle on. Between him and Steve looking for trouble like a hornet for jam, Darry’s evasive nature, and Dally Winston’s everything, she swears she’ll go grey by fourty. 

“Heya, mom,” Soda pulls a golden wrapped sweet from his pocket and presents it to her with a flourish, “you need help with something?”

In his carefully calculated maneuvering he’s managed to turn her sideways, half away from the door, and he’s all sweets and smiles, the picture of perfect innocence, capturing her attention like a fly in resin. That’s all well and good, but she married his father and raised him from the day he was born, so she’s wise to all his tricks. She gives him an unimpressed glare and looks where he clearly doesn’t want her to, at where his co-conspirators are attempting to sneak past the house. 

“Steven Randle and Dallas Winston if you ain’t on this porch in five seconds you won’t like what happens next time you come to it!”

Behind her, Sodapop sighs.

Dally and Steve share a look before she starts counting back from five. A second later Steve is on her porch, looking longingly at where Dallas is tearing around the corner. 

“He ain’t out of trouble,” she informs him, steering him into the house where he shuffles awkwardly to Soda’s side, “so don’t go thinkin’ he’s got the upper hand here.”

She goes quiet, arms folded over her chest. With these two, silence is the best way to make them squirm. Steve’s got a poker face to rival the big wigs, and Soda’s smile hasn’t dropped, dimples on full display, but the two of them smell like mischief and they’re scuffing guilt into her floor with every fidget of their feet. 

“I got a real interestin’ call from your teacher today,” she drawls, when Soda starts glancing towards the door and Steve the open window, “and whaddya know, she said you weren’t in class when you was supposed to be. ‘Course, I told her she must be mistaken because my boys know better than to be skippin’ school when they know how I feel about that. Ain’t that right?”

“Sorry mom,” Soda schools his face into an appropriately contrite look for all of three seconds before his grin is back, “but listen’, me’n Stevie here had to skip class, else the substitute teacher woulda had a horrible day. It was civic duty see-”

“Quit tryin’ your silver tongued tricks on me, Sodapop Curtis. Your daddy’s charms don’t work on me and yours don’t neither.”

“Oh really?” A familiar set of arms snake around her waist. Soda’s grin widens, and Steve’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and she just knows Darrel must've tossed them a wink at him over her shoulder, “You married me didn’t you?I think that means my charms must work a little.”

“No,” She says, fighting a grin, “don’t mean nothin’.’

He spins her around, dropping a kiss on her lips, and she loses herself in him for a second, the way she always does, because he’d more than charmed her. From the second she met him he’d bewitched her, wholly and completely.

“This don’t mean you’re outta trouble!” She calls as Soda and Steve make their escape, hightailing it out the door, no doubt to chase down Dallas and whatever trouble he’d found while they were gone. 

She sighs, relaxing back into Darrel’s embrace, letting her head loll against his shoulder.

“They been real bad today?”

“Skippin’ school again.”

He runs a hand over his face. 

“I’ll talk to ‘em. If I can get Steve back on board the school train, Soda’ll follow suit.”

“I’ll talk to Dallas,” she offers, “Lord knows I’ll never get him on the straight and narrow, but I reckon I can get him as close as it’s possible for him to be.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he drops a kiss on her hair and releases her, “speakin’ of Dallas, where’d he and the rest of the hellions get to? Two outta seven is less than I’m usually greeted with.”

“Dally’s out causin’ trouble, I haven’t seen Keith since this mornin’, and Johnny’s out back with Pony, harassin’ the dog.”

“Junior?”

“He called and said he’s got some sort of pool party to go to with his football friends.”

“Pool party, huh?” Darrel grabs a bite of the leftover chicken she’s slicing, dodging as she swats at him, “Sounds fancy.”

“Don’t you dare say a word when he gets in.”

“Josie-”

“I mean it. He’s havin’ fun.”

“I’m worried about him,” Darrel confesses, and she can see it where he hides it behind the laugh lines at the corner of his eyes, “all those rich boys…they ain’t never gonna respect him. Not really.”

“He’s special our Darry,” she reminds him, “everyone knows it. Besides, that Paul boy’s been good to him, got the rest of the team on his side. I figure he’ll be alright, and we’ll be here if he isn’t.”

Darrel doesn’t look convinced.

“I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Oh my love,” she cups his cheek in one palm and stands on tiptoe to peck his mouth, “hurtin’ is part of life. But he’s gotta be able to risk his own hurts.”

Darrel sighs, but it’s fond now rather than worried.

“How did I wind up with someone so gorgeous and wise?”

“You’re lucky I like blue collar boys with smart mouths. Now, go shower ‘fore dinner is ready.”

He kisses her once more, firmly, and does as he’s bid, because they both know who runs this house and it sure as hell ain’t him.

She glances out the back door as she finishes up the salad, peeking at her youngest and his friend. Pony is waving a stick, trying to convince poor Stella to play fetch, but the old gal is going on thirteen, and seems far more interested in napping. Johnny’s laughing at him, tugging his cigarette away every time Pony makes a snatch at it. Good.

By the time Darrel’s reappeared with wet hair, she’s set the table and hollered out the door loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to know it’s dinnertime at the Curtis’ and pretty soon the house is bursting at the seams with sweaty preteen boys, all flushed faces and sunburned noses and golden youth.  

Soda and Steve, knowing they’re still in shit, keep their heads down and eat quickly, but she collars them before they can slink away and parks them in front of the sink, Soda washing and Steve drying under Darrel’s careful surveillance. Johnny snickers at their predicament and takes his leave, while Pony disappears to his bedroom, and Dallas plunks himself down on the couch like he owns the place.

Well. That’s just not going to fly, now is it?

“Dallas Winston I know you ain’t sittin’ on my couch pretending like you didn’t run when I called you earlier.”

“You’re not my mom.” He says, as he so often does, fourteen and hardened, soft under the slightest hint of her glare and softer under her smile, even if he’d never admit it.

“Sure ain’t,” she agrees, “but you’re still gonna come out and help me with my gardening and you’re not gonna complain about it either.”

He heaves a theatrical sigh- to save face from who she’s not sure considering it’s just the two of them- and follows her outside to start digging weeds out of her flowerbeds. 

She kneels down beside him and starts spreading mulch over the areas he’s finished. A few minutes pass relative silence, apart from Dally grumbling under his breath, and she’s just about to bring up school and why he’s skipping when Ponyboy sticks his head out the door.

“Mom? Can you come here a minute?”

“Sure.” She rises to her feet and dust her hands on her jeans, leaving Dally fighting with wild grass that’s taken root in her carrots.

“What’s wrong baby?” She pulls him to sit with her on the steps, and he rests his head against her shoulder, the silly, over greased hair that Soda taught him to style sticking to her arm thanks to the oppressive humidity.

Ponyboy is quiet for a second, a small crease forming on his forehead that only comes out when he’s troubled. 

“I think there’s somethin’ wrong with Johnny.”

She’s reminded suddenly, of a night four years ago, when he wouldn’t stop screaming until they’d found Johnny alone in the lot, how he’d just seemed to know something was wrong. 

For a second, not even the sticky humidity of mid June is enough to stop the chill that goes down her spine. There’s something to be said about old magics, the kind woven in friendships and twin souls. Mama always told her to listen when she found them, and she’s certainly listening to Ponyboy now.

Across the lawn, Dally has stiffened up, shoulders tensing even as he continues weeding like nothing happened. He’s got a soft spot for Johnny, she knows, just like she knows that whatever Pony has to say has the potential to ruin a lot of peoples days if they dared mess with Johnny Cade. She also knows that if Johnny’s hurt she won’t stop Dallas from whatever vengeance he decides is fair. 

“Why’s that? Did he say somethin’?”

“He wouldn’t,” Pony dismisses with a wave of his hand, and, well, that’s probably true, “but I can tell.”

“Do you have any idea what might be wrong?”

“I think…” Pony hesitates, “well, don’t tell him I said anything, but he won second place at the science fair last week.”

“Did he?” She exclaims, proud and wondering how on earth she could have missed something like that, then remembers trying to convince Soda to hand in something, anything for that damn project had been like pulling teeth, and by the time the competition had come around she’d been all too glad to wash her hands of the whole thing. 

“Yep,” Pony grins, proud, “it was really somethin’ too, most everyone said so, even Mr. Stevenson and he favours the soc kids somethin’ awful. Johnny’s supposed to move on to county level but they won’t let him ‘less he has someone to drive, and you knows his parents won’t. I think he’s kinda disappointed ‘bout it.”

“He wants to go?”

“Yeah,” Pony shrugs, “I think. He worked real hard on it.”

“What day is it?”

“What day is what?”

“The county science fair.”

“Oh. Next Wednesday.”

She was hoping to pick up a few hours doing cleaning at the golf course on Wednesday, but it looks like that will have to wait. Darrel did overtime on Saturday, so they should be okay for groceries as long as she finishes Sheila Lefaye’s bookkeeping by the end of the week and the snotty nosed bitch didn’t try and stiff her on their agreement.  

“Okay,” she climbs to her feet, “do me a favour honey and go find Johnny for me. Dallas will go with you.”

“No I-”

“Dallas will go with you.” She repeats, cutting a glare at the blonde as he opens his mouth to protest, “unless he wants to do my weeding for the rest of the week. And then maybe when y’all get back I’ll have some chocolate cake ready.”

“Cake?” Pony’s eyes light up. Even Dallas looks suddenly a lot more inclined to do as he’s told.

“Only if you go find Johnny now and are quick about it.”

Pony doesn’t need to be told twice, dashing off immediately, swift as quicksilver. Dallas swears colourfully and chases after him, struggling to keep up.

She allows herself a self satisfied grin, and goes inside.

Steve’s just placing the last dish in the cupboard when she takes down her mixing bowl. 

“Aw mom,” Soda immediately protests, “we just finished tidyin’ up!”

“Well,” she sighs, hiding a grin, “I suppose if you really don’t want cake I can keep from makin’ a mess again-”

“Cake?”

“I was gonna make some but since you’ve just finished tidyin’-”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Soda’s eyes have gone round as saucers, “I want cake, ignore me, I was bein’ stupid.” 

“Go do your homework and I’ll consider sharin’ some with you then.” She measures out a cup of flour and pulls the cacao powder from the cupboard, “You too Steve.”

Sated by the promise of sugary goodness the two pull their books out without any of their usual protests. Maybe she should consider cake bribes more often.

“Cake, huh?” Darrel peeks over her shoulder a few minutes later, placing the dog’s leash back on its hook, “what’s the occasion?”

“Johnny won second place in the science fair last week.”

“Well hey, that’s great! How come he never said anything?”

“You know our Johnny,” she says, placing the pan in the oven, “quiet to a fault.”

His eyes go all sad for a minute. She gets it. 

“I’m takin’ him to the county level on Wednesday.” She continues, before they can get bogged down in the tragedy of the boy who refuses to be saved.

His eyebrows pinch. 

“There’s a thing of pork chops in the freezer, and I can stretch what we’ve got in the pantry,” she murmurs before he can say anything, glancing at the dining room to make sure Soda and Steve aren’t eavesdropping, “we’ve been pinched worse before and made it work. This is important.”

“Josie…”

“You know I’m right.”

“I know,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around her “I know. I just…”

He’s warm against her, this kind, loving man, who’d probably end up ditching his own work to bring Johnny to the fair if he knew how much it meant to him. She thinks about Sheila Lafaye and her castle on the west side, the husband she speaks of with barely disguised disdain, and knows she’d make penny meals for the rest of her life before she’d trade anything she has for that emptiness that pretends it’s love. 

“Thick and thin,” she reminds him, the words a line from their wedding vows all those years ago, and she can feel him start to smile against her neck, “This week will just be a little thin.”

“Thick and thin.” He pulls away just enough to press a kiss to the tip of her nose, that carefree smile she fell in love with back on his face, and she knows he’s on board now, totally and completely, because their life together is an adventure and they make it through every time, through thick and thin.

The door bursts open then and Pony tumbles through, followed closely by Johnny, Dally, and Two-bit who seems to have a sixth sense for whenever she’s baking anything. 

“Perfect timing boys,” she tells them, Darrel’s hands sliding off her waist as she turns to pull the cake out of the oven, “it’s just about done. Soda, would you set the table please.”

He jumps to obey as Steve packs away their schoolwork and the rest tumble into their seats, panting. They must have been racing to get to the porch first.

“Since I’m settin’ the table,” Soda starts and oh boy, she can tell just from his tone he’s about to try and sell her on something, “an’ cleaned up all nice after dinner, an’ am just a total and complete and total upstandin’ citizen, can I have Darry’s share of the cake since he isn’t here?”

“No,” she snorts, as Steve starts to protest that ‘he cleaned the kitchen too, asshole’, “Darry is havin’ Darry’s share of the cake.”

“But he ain’t here.”

“That’s what plastic wrap is for.”

“But-” 

“Keep it up and you won’t like who gets your share.”

Dally, Johnny, and Two-bit all snort, and Soda drops into his seat mutinously. 

“How come we’re havin’ cake anyway?” Steve wonders, as she pours cream into a bowl and starts whipping it, “It’s no one's birthday.”

“It’s because of me,” Two-bit says confidently, thirteen and pure mischief, puffing up to deliver some sort of speech, “‘cause I’m a hero. See, I was down at the dime store earlier today, and whaddya know but there’s this lovely box of playin’ cards, brand spanking new and abandoned just all alone on the shelf, all lonely lookin’. So I said to myself, ‘Two-bit, you’re a good guy, you wouldn’t leave those cards looking so sad and lonely all by themselves’, so I braced myself for a rescue mission see, because the store lady was just glarin’ at me, treatin’ me like a hoodlum, keeping those poor cards hostage, but she was no match for me and my cleverness. She turned her back to go after some ne’er do well trying to steal from her fine establishment- if you can imagine such a thing! And so, I took my chance, and liberated the cards in the way a knight of old would save a fair maiden from a castle, and was pursued by a most unscrupulous minion of the establishment for several blocks, who tried- and failed- to retake their prisoner.”

The boys and ever Darrel are all in stitches when he finishes his tale, pulling the aforementioned cards out of his pocket with a flourish and a grin like wildfire. She hides a smile of her own as she places the bowl of whipped cream down beside the cake on the table.

“We’re not celebratin’ your thieving Keith Mathews. This is Johnny’s cake.”

“Johnny’s?”

“Mine?”

“For winnin’ at the science fair last week. Congratulations honey.” 

She passes him the first piece and he flushes all the way up to his hair, sending Ponyboy a glare that her youngest pointedly ignores.

“Thanks Mrs.C.”

“If I’d known him winnin’ was worth cake I'd've told you a week ago.” Soda says, stuffing half his  own piece in his mouth in one go, and Steve nods in agreement, and then the table goes quiet, all of them too busy eating to talk. 

Eventually they all disperse again, Two-bit and Dallas off to find a poker game to play, while Soda and Steve go out back for a smoke, and Johnny follows Ponyboy to the livingroom to have a hushed argument under the guise of watching TV.

“What time is the county science fair next week?” She asks when Johnny comes to say his goodbyes. 

He goes six shades of red again, and sends a glance towards the living room that’s half gratitude and half disgruntlement before caving.

“Ten.” 

“Where is it?”

“Town hall I think.” 

“Perfect,” she smiles, “we’ll leave her at 9:30 then.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” She cuts him off firmly, “you worked hard, baby. You deserve to show that work off.”

He thanks her again, and says goodnight, a lightness in his step when he leaves that’s only obvious now because she hadn’t realized earlier that it wasn’t there to begin with. When she goes to collect the plates from the table, Ponyboy is staring at the closed door looking far too pleased with his meddling.

********* THREE ************

The next time it happens she knows better than to doubt him. 

It’s a sunny morning in mid August, warm and sticky. Darrel has a rare Saturday off and she’s flipping pancakes at the stove, filled with wild strawberries she’d picked in the yard and froze during the spring, because Darrel likes the tartness of them better than store bought ones and there’s pretty much nothing in the world she wouldn’t do for him. 

Ella Fitzgerald’s voice drifts from the radio, warm and syrupy even over the static, and Darrel turns it up as he enters the kitchen, pulling her into a dance position while she laughs and pushes at his chest. 

“I’m makin’ food!”

“One dance,” he pleads.

“You want burned pancakes?”

“After then,” he barters, “c’mon, it ain’t often I get you all to myself.”

“The boys out?”

“Well. Two outta three. Darry’s still sleepin’.”

“It’s past twelve.”

“Teenagers, huh?” Darrel grins, for a second looking like a teenager himself, forever the boy she fell in love with, and she leans into him just a bit. 

“Do you think maybe the reason he’s so tired is because he snuck out again last night?”

“Hm,” Darrel cocks his head, a tick all the boys have inherited from him, “probably. But maybe we should let him get away with it just this once.”

“‘Just this once’ he says for the fifth time.”

“There’s worse teenage rebellions. For example,” he grins wickedly, “he could be sellin’ grass under the bleachers.”

“I did that one time!”

“One whole summer more like.”

“Quit slanderin’ my good name.” 

“Ain’t slander if it’s true.”

“S’not my fault popa had good flower.”

“It’s your fault you decided to sell it.”

“Shut up,” she says, but she’s laughing. She turns back to the stove, flipping a pancake onto the stack that reveals itself to be a bit more than golden brown, “see, look what you made me do now!”

“They look fine to me,” he snatches it off the pile and stuffs it into his mouth, before spitting it out just as quickly, “ack!”

“Careful, it’s hot.”

“I can see that, thanks,” he snipes acerbically, and she can’t stifle her snicker.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he snarks, “some wife you are.”

“Hey, I’m the one makin’ you pancakes, ingrate.”

“Hmm, true.” He kisses her forehead on his way to set the table. With Darry asleep and Soda and Pony out- probably gone to the rodeo grounds if she had to guess- it’s just the two of them sat across from one another, coffee at her spot and tea at his, almost burnt pancakes and maple syrup between them. 

It’s a little bit perfect. Too perfect. She should have known the peace wouldn’t last- it never did in the Curtis house.

She’s just lifting the second last bite of pancake to her mouth when the door bursts open, practically thrown off its hinges as it slams into the wall. 

The scolding dies on her lips the second she sees Ponyboy’s chalk white face and wide, frightened eyes. 

“Somethin’s wrong with Johnny,” he gasps, “he- he’s real sick or hurt or somethin’. I think- he needs help.”

She shares a look with Darrel for a half a second, understanding passing between them before she’s on her feet, following Pony out the door, heart in her throat. She knows without having to ask that Darrel’s staying behind to grab the first aid kit and boil water and whatever else he needs for his little nursing set up.

She’s never been good at the whole playing doctor thing. Thank god Darrel is.

Ponyboy is fast, faster than her by far nevermind that she used to win medals for cross country back in school and he’s only just turned thirteen, but he slows his pace just enough she can keep up. 

He leads her down the street past the empty lot the boys play football at sometimes to the small copse of trees at the back, where Soda, Two-bit, and Johnny are… smoking and looking absolutely fine.

“Mom,” Pony stops her before she can ream him out for crying wolf, “please, just check his forehead before you say anything. He’s been weird all morning.”

Never let it be said that she’s a fool. Her mama told her to watch for little magics, and Pony has proven before he’s got a sixth sense for Johnny’s pain, and she won’t do him the disservice of doubting him again now.

Besides, Johnny's reaction when he sees her isn’t exactly the look of innocent and unbothered.

“Ponyboy!”Johnny looks about ready to kill him, jaw clenched and face flushed. He’s taller than Pony now by almost three inches, considering Pony hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet, and for a second he looks downright mean, “I told you to leave off! Why d’you have to go and be such a fucking tattle tale all the time?”

Pony flinches. Soda’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, and he stares at Johnny like he’s grown a second head, while Two’s eyebrows make a valiant effort to get lost in his hair. Josie knows why. It’s not uncommon exactly for Pony and Johnny to fight- Johnny will rise to Pony’s bait, and Pony can be a vindictive little thing when you push the right buttons- but it’s rare for either of them to ever sound so downright hateful, especially to one another. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Pony snaps, “you wasn’t gonna say nothin’ but you’re dead on your feet and you've been warm since yesterday.”

“You promised you wouldn’t say anything!” 

“That was yesterday!” Pony screams, eyes wild and crazed like some sort of animal, “And yesterday I didn’t spend ten minutes tryin’ to wake you up and another five after that tryin’ to make you remember where you were! You’re only still here because you’re too tired to walk to rodeo grounds, and too feverish for any of us to leave you by your lonesome, but the rest of you were too pussy to do anything about it!”

He directs the last bit at Soda and Two-bit, who are both suddenly very interested in their shoes. 

Huh.

Now that she’s got a better look at him, the flush on Johnny’s olive toned cheeks might not be from anger the way she initially thought, and he’s sweating something fierce- though it might be due to the jacket he’s wearing.

“I’m fine!” Johnny insists, and she could just about cry looking at him, because when he turns his brown eyes on her he doesn’t look mad he looks terrified, “I’m fine.”

He curls in on himself a bit, hunching over a way that isn’t quite natural, his left arm held close to his body.

Wait a second. 

Long sleeves. In August. How could she be so stupid?

“Hm,” She steps closer to him, raising her hand slowly, trying her hardest not to startle him but he still flinches slightly when she lays the back of her palm against his forehead. 

He’s burning up. 

“I’m fine,” he says again, but it just sounds like begging as he bats at her hands haphazardly, sick and near delirious and so, so afraid, “I’m fine.”

Carefully, she takes his hand and gently pushes up the sleeve of his jacket, holding on more tightly when he hisses and goes to pull away reflexively.

Whatever she expected, it wasn’t this. Oozing and smelly, under sloppily applied bandages, lies a strip of burned skin from his wrist all the way up his forearm, almost to his elbow, the skin tight and puffy around it.

Soda swears. Beside him, Two-bit stifles a gag. 

“Oh honey…”

“It’s nothing,” Johnny’s voice shakes and he tries again to weakly pull away, “I'm fine, I promise.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Johnny.”

He sighs, and there’s eons of pain in that sound, a lifetime of weariness no fifteen year old should hold.

“Two days ago dad was beatin’ on me in the yard. He pushed me an’ I fell onto the burn barrel, and this happened. I tried to clean it best I could but it don’t act the same way a scrape does.”

‘It looks infected,” she says, forcing herself to keep her voice calm over the panic that crawling up her throat. She really is no doctor, but she knows infection is no joke, and he’s already got a fever, “but we’ll get you all fixed up.”

He doesn’t try to argue, which is more worrying than it ought to be. Johnny didn’t usually accept any sort of help this quick, especially when it came to injuries. She lets him go and he immediately pulls his sleeve back over the wound, shame wrapped around him tighter than the too small jacket, and she swears to herself the next time she sees Andrew Cade by his lonesome she’ll borrow Darrel’s hunting rifle from the shed and shoot him. 

“Soda, run along home and tell your dad we’re on our way, alright?”

Soda looks torn for a second before she fixes him with a look and he nods, dashing off without another word.

“Keith, do me a favour and head to the rodeo grounds and let Dally know the goings on. Last thing I need is him ending up in county lockup today.”

“Must’ve missed it when I was hired as an errand boy!’ Two chirps, but his joke falls flat. He clears his throat, nods. “Don’t worry Mrs.C, I’m on it.”

“Thanks sweetheart.”

He nods and lopes off, casting a worried look over his shoulder, but he’s almost the oldest of them, just a year younger than Darry, and she’s the only one she’d trust to break this to Dally properly. He’s got tact, even if he pretends not to for a laugh sometimes, and he steps up when it matters, just like now.

“Let’s go then,” she jerks her head back towards the house, “as soon as we get in I’m getting you a big glass of ginger ale and you’re drinkin’ the whole thing while Darrel does his whole doctor routine and decides whether we need to take you to the hospital, savvy?”

“Yes ma’am,” Johnny sighs, half resigned and half petulant, but there’s a bit of a glow burning away the fear in his eyes, and she thinks everything might be alright.

She follows behind him as he dutifully starts trudging towards the house. Pony trudges along beside him, having turned into something of a kicked puppy after his outburst, and she’s just starting to wonder if maybe this spat of theirs might need some motherly interference to help it get resolved when Johnny ruffles Pony’s hair and throws his uninjured arm around his shoulders, tucking him into his side. 

Pony hides a sniffle in Johnny’s shoulder and throws his own arm around Johnny’s waist, forgiven.

Despite herself, she smiles.

They’ll be alright.

******* PLUS ONE *******

Johnny always feels weird coming to the Curtis house nowadays. 

There's an oddness to it, a blanket of stifling silence that hangs over the place despite the ever present noise of the gang, a choking smog that crawled into their throats and left him quiet, and Steve murmuring, and Darry yelling that much louder like if he tried hard enough he could drown out the roaring grief that deafened them. 

Johnny wished he could tell him to save his breath. You can’t yell grief out of a suddenly shattered home anymore than you can wring love out of burned blankets, or keep happiness in a jar. Johnny knows. He’s tried every trick of an unloved creature and none of them ever worked.

He knows as soon as he steps over the threshold that today is one of the worse kinds of days in their strange new normal, an odd charade where they’re all playing the same characters but it’s like they all forgot their lines. Or maybe the lines are the same as they always were, but they’re all suddenly playing the wrong parts. 

Darry’s frying eggs at the stove, toolbelt already tied  on over his work clothes. Two-bit is lazing at the table, tossing bits of toast at Dally that the blonde is smacking away with increasing violence. Steve is watching coffee and watching Soda race from one end of the house to the other as he gets ready. Right now, his shirt is unbuttoned and he’s only wearing one sock, so Johnny figures he’ll have to get a ride with Two-bit to school because Soda and Steve will definitely be leaving late.

“Has anyone seen my nametag?” Soda hollers as Johnny grabs a slice of toast off what he assumes to be Steve’s abandoned plate and slides into a seat.

“You left it on your nightstand.” Dary yells at Soda’s retreating back, “Is Pony up yet?”

“No!”

“Jesus-” Darry runs a hand over his face, worry lines that weren’t there a few months ago etched deeply into his forehead. Even Mr.C never looked as tired as Darry does these days, “tell him to hurry up!”

Beside him, Dallas tenses, and Two-bit makes a truly horrendous joke that gets Darry’s incredulous glare fixed pointedly on him, and Johnny gets a sinking feeling this isn’t the first time today Darry has yelled for Pony to hurry up.

He slinks away from the table as quietly as he arrived, hoping to attract just as much notice- that is to say, none at all. 

Each step down the hallway seems to take more effort, the not-quiet silence muffling his footfalls and making him feel like he’s fighting through clinging mud. By the time he reaches Ponyboy’s bedroom door, the noise from the kitchen seems as if it’s faded out completely. 

He knocks softly. 

“Ponyboy?”

No answer. He wasn’t really expecting one, but it makes him feel kind of sick all the same. 

He pushes open the door and slips inside to see Ponyboy’s small frame burrowed under the blankets, staring blankly at the wall.

“Mornin’ Pony," he climbs up beside him, rubbing his back. Pony still doesn’t say anything. The only indication he gives that he even knows Johnny is there is pressing back into the touch the tiniest bit. 

“It’s a school day, man,” Johnny’s never been one for talking, but his role in this new play requires a lot more of it than his old one. It’s uncomfortable but he’s getting used to it, talking for Pony the way Pony has always known how to talk for him, and on mornings like this, talking to him feels like the only thing he can do. He’s not sure why he’s convinced himself now that his words are the kind of medicine Pony needs, but it’s the kind of pretty lie that sounds better than the truth, which is that Ponyboy needs some type of health or medicine no one on their side of town could ever afford to give him. 

It scares him, more than he wants to admit, this version of Ponyboy, the one who was zombielike on his best days, withdrawn and foggy eyed, who seemed to exist behind a thick wall of glass separating him from the rest of the world- and that was when he managed to move at all. Other days, like today, he would just stare at nothing for hours and hours and hours. Even when Darry made him move on these days, when he had to half carry him out to the car to go to school, Pony on these days wasn’t ever really present, never seemed to sbe able to escape whatever was keeping him a prisoner in his own head, held down under waves of grief that drained the life right out of him. 

“There’s fried eggs on the stove,” Johny tries again, “normal colours this mornin’ though, sorry. I know you like the pink ones Soda makes.”

Nothing. Not even a twitch. 

“One of those mornings, huh?” He sighs, giving up, “that’s alright, man, I get it. It’s tough. It’s really fuckin’ tough. I got you.”

He settles down a bit more, tossing one bent arm under his head, still rubbing Pony’’s back with the other. 

Not even two minutes later footsteps stomp down the hallway, the cacophony of a Curtis brother argument reaching them before the guys themselves all but burst in.

“...he’’s goin’ to school, Soda. Ponyboy get up!”

Darry’s madder than a hornet looking for jam and finding vinegar. He’s hardened now, having lost his dreams and his youth and his parents in one fell swoop, and it’s turned him bitter and desperate, but that’s no excuse for the way he glares down at Ponyboy now, cold and worried but unflinching in his pursuit of doing what he thinks is expected instead of what Ponyboy so clearly needs.

And Johnny? Well, Johnny’s seen enough.

“Leave him be, Darry.”

Darry freezes. FOr a second he just blinks at him, disbelief written all over his face. It’s almost comical. In any other situation it would be.

“What?”

“You ain’t helpin’.” He gestures where Pony is still huddled under his blankets, staring blankly at the wall, the purple shadows under his eyes so dark they look like bruises. He’s so far from okay it’s nearly incomprehensible, “and he ain’t goin’ to school. Not today.”

“Now look Johnny, I know you’re buddies an’ all-”

“No.” Johnny cuts him off because he doesn’t get it. “Darry he ain’t going today. How’s he supposed to go to class when he can’t even get out of bed? You ain’t there, you don’t seen him, but it’s torture for him when you make him go on days like today. Ask Two or Steve. Everyone with eyes can see it.”

It feels wrong, talking about Pony like he isn’t right there, but he still doesn't give any indication he’s heard a thing, and Darry needs to hear this and hear it now. Pony’s been like this more and more often since the Curtis parents died, and if Johnny’s being honest with himself, it scared him half to death. 

He knows it terrifies Darry too, that it's why he’s doing what he’s doing, but he's trying to help in the absolute worst way. Darry might be able to pretend everything is fine, has always been a superhero in his own right- Pony can’t, and it’s killing him to try. 

Johnny just wonders how Darry can’t see that.

Luckily his words seem to land, and Darry flinches. 

“I’ll stay with him while y’all go to work,” Johnny promises, more for Pony’s sake and his own than for theirs, “but he isn’t going to school today, Darry. I mean it.”

Darry’s face goes hard, but his eyes go sad, the picture of pure anguish. He has the look of his dad but when he’s upset he’s an almost perfect amalgamation of both his parents’ distress, from Mrs.Curtis’ tight frown on his thin lips, to Mr.Curtis’ furrowed eyebrows and hunched shoulders. 

“I…yeah, okay. Just this once.” He crosses the room in two steps, leaning down to press a tender kiss to Pony’s hair, “love you, baby.” 

He steps back, and clears his throat before ruffling Johnny’s hair, “Take good care of him, Johnnycake.”

“I will.”

Darry clears his throat, hesitates a moment, then decides against whatever it was he was going to say and takes his leave.

“Thank god,” Soda sags from where he’d been hovering in the doorway, “you’re a miracle worker Johnny, I swear, I tried everything to get him to listen but he’s just so fuckin’ stubborn.”

“Not that you’d know anything about that.”

Soda snorts. “Course not.”

A honk from outside interrupts before he can say anything else.

“Shit,” Soda cringes, already turning to leave, “I can’t be late again or my boss’ll kill me. Thanks again for stayin’ with him Johnny.”

“Anytime.” Johnny promises, but Soda’s already gone. 

He listens to the crunch of tires on gravel as Steve hurtles out of the driveway and settles down with a sigh, tossing an arm over Pony and pulling him close. 

“I mean it, man. I’ll be here anytime, through thick and thin. You’ll always have me.”

Pony doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Johnny knows the feeling is mutual.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i literally have no idea what this is, or where it came from but here's a thing:

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,043 | rated: M (will be E in next part)

Eddie Munson was not Steve’s bi awakening, okay? He wasn’t.

He just happened to be standing in the middle of Family Video dressed like his bi awakening (and it didn’t help that he already had an embarrassingly huge crush on the guy).

Steve had come out of the back none the wiser to what he was about to see, glancing up from the tape he was carrying for someone who’d called earlier. His eyes met big, clunky, worn-in cowboy boots, long lean legs (and very nice ass–damn, they’ve got one of those stupid bandanas in their back pocket too) in classic Levis so tight they looked like they were painted on, the back of leather jacket (--hold on), and the back of a head of long, wild-looking, sun-kissed, yet still dark hair.

After his seconds-long oogling, Robin, who was chatting with Bon Jovi’s twin at the counter, glances behind him at Steve. 

Bon Jovi tries to turn and look back without taking himself off the counter, but when that insane hair of his gets in the way, he shoves up off the counter and spins on one heel.

“Munson? Where the hell’ve you been?” Steve thanks whatever it is up there that the surprise of seeing Eddie again temporarily suspends his frazzled ‘hothothothothot’ thoughts about his friend enough to respond normally.

“Damn, Stevie, been gone all summer and all I get is a ‘The hell’ve you been’?”

“Of course, asshole, you’ve been gone All. Summer.” Steve says, finally getting to the counter himself and dropping the tape on it. He scoops Eddie up in a tight hug, one long won from their month of recovery post-Vecna.

Everything went fine, Vecna was dead, the upside-down sealed away, but they hadn’t all left unscathed. Specifically Steve and Eddie, both of whom ended their spring break from hell nursing bat wounds, and closer than ever before. 

Then, after finally graduating, being hailed a hero for “saving” Max and Dustin from the real killer (thank you, suspicious government people), Eddie was hauled out of Hawkins by his Uncle, the former of whom got just enough time for a quick ‘Gotta go, Wayne wants me helping out at the farm this summer,’ before he was gone.

“I told you I would be, Harrington,” Eddie says once Steve sets him back down on his own two feet.

“So what happened? Where’ve you really been?”

Eddie raises a brow, “At the farm. Like I said.”

“Okay, well, excuse me for thinking it may have been the same 'farm' my parents said my childhood dog was sent off to.”

“You think my Uncle was gonna take me upstate to shoot me dead?”

“Obviously not, dumbass, but what other goddamn reason would you, Eddie Munson, have to be on a farm. Like with cows and stuff?”

“Though the sun did you some favors,” Robin cuts back in.

And isn’t that the truth. Up close now (and letting himself look), Steve could see how Eddie’s normally dark hair and pale complexion were now sun-kissed and so well be-freckled that it sent his stomach for another rollercoaster ride.

“Yeah, Munson, you planning on keeping the blond around?” Steve teases, picking up a strand of sun-lightened hair off Eddie’s shoulder and giving it a short tug.

“I don’t know, I’m not really used to how light…”

Whatever Eddie says after that is completely drowned out by ringing in Steve’s ears because Eddie stretches an arm up to paw at the top of his head and he’s wearing a crop top.

He’s wearing a goddamn crop top under his jacket, some band tee that looks like he’d hacked off himself..and are those abs?? God damn he is so fine. It’s not fucking fair. Who does he think he is running around like Steve’s own personal wet dre–

“Holy shit.”

He couldn’t help it. The words just fell out of his mouth.

“H-holy shit, you’ve got abs, Eddie!”

‘Thank you, Robin.’ Steve thinks at her absently since his brain is completely preoccupied..

“Wha–? Oh! Yeah! Check me out, huh?!” Eddie grins wide, lifting his shirt just a bit more to show off the toned expanse of stomach. 

Steve’s mouth goes bone dry.

“And that’s not all,” Eddie says. He drops his shirt and shucks the jacket off his shoulders.

His very well sculpted shoulders.

And arms.

And oh god those hands. Steve could hear the soft scrapes of rough callouses against the leather when Eddie threw the garment onto the counter beside him and his only thought was about how they might feel against his skin..

Still beaming, Eddie flexes one, then both arms, his biceps bunching under more tanned skin. “I got a lot of ‘lifting heavy things and putting them back down again’ in over the summer.” he continues, “I’m probably stronger than you now, Harrington.”

“Ha haha, right..yeah. Robin, can you excuse us for a second?”

Steve doesn’t wait for her response before he grabs Eddie around one of those absolutely delicious biceps and hauls him through the store and out the back door.

He lets a grinning Eddie go as soon as they’re through the back door, taking a couple steps away towards the woods behind their building, and trying to calm down with measured breaths.

When he does turn around, Eddie’s stood away from the door, one hip cocked out and his arms crossed across his chest.

The grin on his face has melted down into a smirk though, and the look in his eyes is less teasing and more cautious.

Steve steps back up close to the other man, and literally starts to circle him like a shark. Scanning his eyes up and down Eddie’s body as he does.

“What’s goin’ on Stevie? Looking for some style tips?” he jokes.

Steve doesn’t answer, and starts his second cycle around his friend.

“You know, maybe get rid of some of those polos?” Eddie sounds just a bit more unsure this time.

Steve’s behind Eddie’s right shoulder when he speaks again. “You think you can barge back in after all this time, looking like that,” Steve comes around to stand in front of Eddie again, “And not expect me to react?”

Eddie grins wickedly again, and steps back at the same time Steve steps forward.

“Expect me to not want to devour you whole?”

“You expect me to want that, big boy?” Eddie says as he’s pressed between Steve and the closed back door.

Steve rears back immediately, “Shit, Eddie, I’m sor–”

“‘Cause I do.” Eddie grabs hold of Steve and spins them around, pressing the younger man back against the door instead. “Ohhh boy, do I want that.”

Steve groans as Eddie slots their hips together, “You really are a big boy, aren’t you sunshine?”

“The things I’m gonna do to you..” Steve growls out, Eddie’s jaw snapping open with his words.

They’re both startled away from the back door when Robin bangs on it, “You’ve got five minutes to get back in here before I drag you back in! It’s Friday and we’re about to get busy!” she yells through the door.

He hears her converse squeak on the tile inside the door as she heads back to the front, then chances a look at Eddie.

He looks as red as Steve feels, from the bit of his face he can see from behind the hair he holds over it.

“Eddie–”

“It’s cool, Harrington,” he wheezes out a dry laugh, glancing over at him, “Better get in for the rush before Robin comes back.

He reaches for the handle again, but is stopped short by a hand on his wrist.

“Listen, Eddie.” Steve says, giving the other man’s arm a soft tug to get him to turn around. “I may have gotten a little…over enthusiastic…”

Eddie’s face scrunches up in a weird way.

“No! Not in a bad way, unless you weren’t as into it as I was–doesn’t matter! Point is, I may have gone a little crazy, but I wasn’t faking it.”

“I don’t think guys can fake it, Steve-o.” Eddie jokes softly, a small smile on his face.

Steve chuckles just as soft, “Shut up man, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“I think you do.”

“I dunno Steve," Eddie shrugs sarcastically, "You’re quite an enigma.”

“Okay, fine, here’s it spelled out for you: I am super into you.” Steve puts up a finger to stop whatever it is Eddie was about to say, “Hold on– I am bisexual, have been for a while and would like to try this..with you. If you want.”

“You gotta be more specific on what ‘this’ is, sunshine.” Eddie steps close to him once again.

Steve smirks, walking Eddie backward to the door again with both hands on his waist. Once he’s got him pressed back against the warm metal, he scoops the hair away from Eddie’s ear and holds it out of the way with a hand on the back of his neck.

He leans in, whispering right into Eddie’s ear. “I want to take you apart, Eddie.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath and Steve can feel the man’s heart hammering against his own chest.

“I want to suck you down, eat you out, and fuck you into next Tuesday.” He states, nipping on his earlobe for good measure before pulling back. 

Steve takes in Eddie’s flushed face, his eyes blown out they’re almost completely black, his chest heaving.

“I’d also like to totally romance you and date the fuck out of you, but…” he shrugs, grinning as Eddie smacks his chest lightly with a laugh of his own.

“I’m serious though, Eddie. I want this.”

Eddie’s smile falls slightly. “You sure about the whole dating thing, Harrington? You know you can’t date me for real..like in public and shit.”

Steve shrugs, “I know, but… I don’t think I’d survive something casual with you, Eddie.”

Eddie lets out a breath like he’d been punched.

He takes back in a deep breath, then pulls Steve flush to him again.

“I think that sounds amend—-”

Eddie’s forehead smashes into Steve’s nose when Robin shoves the door open behind Eddie.

“Damn! I knew the door was a bad idea.” Steve says, his voice coming out nasally from where he’s pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“Time’s up, Dingus, get your fruity butt inside.”

Eddie chuckles after her, leading Steve inside. “You shouldn’t tip your head back, lean forward and let it drain out.”

“Ugh, you sure? I’ll get blood all over me,”

“I’m sure, sweetheart, I’ve had a few bloody noses in my time.”

“Here,” Robin says once they reach the counter.

Steve takes the offered tissues, and soaks up the small trickle of blood.

“You still wanna date me if my nose is crooked?” he asks Eddie, who’s (sadly) shrugging his coat back on.

He pretends to think for a moment. “Sorry Stevie, that’s a dealbreaker. Even if it was my forehead what done it.”

“Ugh you’re such a dweeb, I don’t know what you see in him, Steve.”

“He’s hot, okay? And he’s still hot even after he rejected me just now.” Steve states matter-of-factly while shoving a wad of tissue into the one nostril still bleeding.

“You think I’m hot?”

“Very.”

“No, you’re gross. You guys are both gross.”

“Oh Birdie, you should've heard the things he was saying to me outside; all ‘Ooh Eddie, your muscles are so big and so is your hair and also your di—’”

“OKAY! That’s enough of that!” Steve cuts him off, pushing the still grinning Eddie toward the door, then, a softer: “Yours or mine after I’m off?” once they’re at the door.

“Definitely yours, unless you want Wayne to be privy to our shenanigans.”

“Yeah, that’s a no. Also, shenanigans? Really? You’re a super dweeb.” Steve smirks, pushing his boyfr— frien— Eddie out the front door. “I’m off at four, see you at five?”

Eddie fumbles backward over the curb but manages to catch himself, “It’s a date, Steve.”

He watches Eddie climb up into his van, and follows its path down the road and out of sight with a dreamy sigh.

“You still have tissues in your nose, Dingus.”

part 2/2 here | and on AO3!

definitely inspired by this post from @sparrowtapes

[amoristt]

anon: can you write a ghost x reader fic about y/n being wrongfully accused of being a spy and she makes a run for it and ghost finds her? YESSSS . LOVE ITTTT

-as always comments/reblogs are appreciated! - wanna tip me? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader

- Heavy footsteps, the air thick, the wall in front of you even thicker. Never did you think that beige wallpaper would be such an obstacle in your way as the echoing sound of footsteps gain on you. The door is shut tight, but the room is still under construction and lacks any furniture to help barricade you in. There isn't even a fucking closet for you to hide in. The only thing other than light brown plank flooring and a door with a half-painted white frame, was a window overlooking a yard.

It was roughly a five-story drop- too high to continue your run unscathed, but at this point, you've got some pretty heavy options to weigh. On one hand, potentially cut your life short, on the other, get caught and dragged out fighting.

Not that it would be much of a fight. You didn't even have time to grab your gun or knife before you made your escape.

Your heart aches. This wasn't right. While you weren't sure what dirt Shepherd had on you, what documents had been falsified as evidence of your alleged 'treason', but whatever they were they must have been pretty damn convincing to have Graves up in arms almost instantaneously. Tears bite at your eyes- had been since you first ran, but now they were heavier. Angrier. You wipe them harshly and red blotches bubble at your cheeks.

Shaking, you bring your radio to your lips. You can't hear them, but they can surely hear you, switched to a different station so you couldn't use their chatter to work around them.

"Please," you damn near sob. "Please, there's a mistake. There's been a fucking mistake, I haven't done anything. You really think I'd do this to you guys of all people?"

Grave answers your pleads like a poison, settling deep into your lungs, replacing all the air in its wake.

"Enough running. Come out and no one has to get hurt."

There was no use in arguing, you realized. They would never hear of it- not the people that truly mattered when it came to imprisonment, anyways. Even if you could convince your humble squad of your innocence, it would never hold up in the end. Besides that, by the way Graves spoke to you, the way he had looked at you, like you were a fucking bug that needed squashing, told you all you needed to know when it came to fighting against Shepherd's allegations.

You knew, ultimately, that running wasn't going to exactly help your case, but you didn't know what else to do. It felt like everyone had turned against you in a moment. You hadn't even had time to process anything. One moment you were joking with your crew, and Graves scampered off the take a rather important call.

Shepherd, was all he had said before disappearing.

And god, when he came back, red-faced and tense, the accusations poured.

Soap tried to defend you. Ghost fought to question, to figure out what the fuck was happening, but the supposed 'evidence' was apparently damning enough to convince Graves through and through that you were a spy.

A rat.

Ghost's voice, laced with desperation and confusion, when Graves began to 'explain' your betrayal haunted you. More so than the act of being accused of treason, even. You just stared at him, past that skull mask, into those familiar dark eyes. Even now, as you ran for what could possibly be your life, that half-hidden expression was all you could see.

The moment Graves brought up arresting you, and even moved to try and grab you, your brain damn near malfunctioned. Your body reacted on its own.

You fucking ran.

Though you weren't sure how someone had found you, this was the position you were in now. The curtains blew out with the breeze, soft and inviting, almost like it was beckoning your jump. They unfurl before you like great wings, and you stare down at the green grass below. You'd surely be crippled by this fall. If not that, it could very well kill you.

Your heart seizes, your lungs struggle to take in air as panic begins to sets in like vines creeping over your nerves. For a moment, you freeze. There was no other way out.

But then there's a slam on the door behind you, so great that the frame creaks and sharp chunks of wood launch off and scatter onto the floor around you. You flinch and your body once again takes priority over your mind, tossing your leg over the sill and swallowing hard. You're going to have to make the jump for it.

You heave yourself up and over, planting your feet flat on the sill, your entire body shaking with both fear of the leap and the deeper issue at present. One hand braces against the top of the window, the other covering your mouth.

Behind you, the door bursts open. Wood splints and tears as it slams into the wall.

"Enough!" A voice shouts, thick with accent and heavy breaths. "You're going to break every damn bone in your body."

You can practically feel Ghost's gun pointed straight at you. You cringe.

Would he pull the trigger?

"Might as well do it now before someone else does trying to beat a confession out of me that'll never fucking come." You didn't mean for your voice to carry so sharp, so laced with the pain and hurt of being hunted by your own friends.

By Ghost, of all people.

How could he be so fucking blind after everything you'd been through together? You wanted to reach out and smack him upside the head. You'd patched each other up more times than you could count, you trusted him with your life, he'd trusted you with his.

Or so, you had always thought.

But the way he's looking at you has to second guessing.

But, ultimately, you knew the game at play. He was a good soldier- the best. He was a former lone wolf, distrustful to his core. You'd worked so fucking hard to get close with him and now it was all crumbling down. Even if you stayed and explained yourself, there would be no point. You would be arrested, processed, thrown in jail labeled a traitor to your country and more people than not would be celebrating it. You'd never see the light of day- shackled and stuffed into a prison so far off the map that God himself would struggle to find you.

And you would be damned if you were going to just sit there and accept your fate. Even if it meant you appeared just as guilty as Shepherd had painted you. You just needed to get away for a bit, collect yourself, and have the time to figure out what the hell was going on. But it seemed that was never in the cards for you. 

The ground below looks menacing, but more forgiving than the fate that awaits you.

You can hear Ghost taking heavy steps forward, and you wonder why he hasn't just come up and ripped you from that sill already.

"Get down," He barks, and you shake at the tone, refusing to look back at him. Defiance shines through as you refuse to climb down.

"I'm not going down for something I didn't do!" Exasperated, your knuckles whitening with your iron grip. It takes what feels like eons to prepare for gravity to play its course, but in reality, it's been mere seconds. You try to force down air through the boulder in your throat.

For a moment, everything stills. You knew the outcome that was bound to come to this. You knew, deep down in your heart, that your fate was not a good one at this point. Either you die on impact, or you'd be wheeled into the interrogation room on a stretcher. That alone makes your skin crawl- interrogation. Knowing you had not a single detail to offer despite the amount of 'tactics' that would be used on you... The torture would essentially be never-ending.

You were well and truly fucked.

"I have to do this." You try to keep your voice level, but it betrays you. You hear Ghost suck in a sharp breath, the sound of his gear shifting. At this point, you don't even care if he shot you. At least you'd die with the person you loved.

"You don't." Ghost's voice is quieter, closer. Now you can really hear it- the sadness. The desolation. It wracks you to your very core.

With a hasty glance over your shoulder, you take in the sight of him. Maybe the last sight of him you'll ever get the chance to see. His looming figure stands feet away, gun still fixated on you. He looks defeated. Or, perhaps, torn. Riding that fence and teetering on the edge between believing you or hauling your ass back to Shepherd kicking and screaming.

Tears well in your eyes when realize his finger isn't even on the trigger. You nod at him sadly.

"I do."

And then, you give yourself to gravity. For a split second, you're weightless. Without much family back home, you found yourself thinking about your squad. How would Soap react? Gaz, or Price? Would they try to find your innocence, or would they take your cowardly actions at face value? Would Graves struggle with the weight of your life if he discovered his manhunt had been unwarranted?

Would Ghost be okay after firsthand witnessing such an awful, selfish act?

Would he ever forgive you?

With a sickening crack, your body slams into the brick wall of the building and you're left dangling in place. Your shoulder screams as you hang, and when you snap your attention toward the searing pain, you see two large hands grasped tight at your wrist and elbow.

"Damn it!"

Ghost's voice reaches you like a bullet had been ripped through your chest. He'd caught you, holding fast and unrelenting. You tried to fight, struggling against him, trying to reach up and pry those fingers away but they didn't budge.

It was over. You'd been caught. You were going to fucking prison and forever labeled a traitor to your country and everyone you ever knew. Everyone you ever fought with, and for, would remember you as a rat. A stain on the fabric of the U.S. Army.

"Let go!" You cry, feeling yourself reeling back into that room with Ghost's unwavering grip. "Just let go!"

Ghost grunts a sharp no before you're hauled up, into the room, and held fast by his arms caging you against him. He crushes you to himself, fingers near digging bruises into your skin and he's shaking you realize. Tears well up and flush past your waterlines, disappearing into the cloth of his gear. You haphazardly beat on his chest with a loosely formed fist.

"They're gonna fucking kill me" You sob. "It's not me, I didn't do anything."

You feel Ghost's arms leave you, and you realize now is when you'll have to surrender. You'll have to hang your head low and saunter away and into the clutches of the armies worst. You're crying into your hands now, not caring what you look like. Not caring this was the first time Ghost had ever truly seen you cry. And god, did you cry.

"Simon, please, I didn't do anything. It wasn't me!"

He's silent as he watches you fall apart right in front of him. Though he uncurls his arms from your shaking frame, he doesn't back away, looking down at you, like he's unsure of what to do. Unsure of what to believe anymore. As you press your forehead to his shoulder, your legs threaten to give out from underneath you.

"Why is this happening." Your voice escapes you as a whimper, broken up with sharp, painful breaths. "What could I have done for someone to do this to me of all people? I know I'm not a saint, but,-" Finally you look up at him, babbling. "Fuck, what do I do?"

Ghost's eyes narrow as he watches you, taking in every word. He places his hands on your shoulders, the first familiar gesture you've felt yet.

"You think you've been framed?" He asks, tone cool despite the waves of emotions in his eyes. You nod.

"That's the only explanation I can think of, but why? I would never do this to my country, my home." You flicker your eyes up to his own. "I would never do this to you."

You can see him trying to work it all out in his brain. Weighing the evidence he'd been presented with versus the fact that he fucking knew you. Knew you like the back of his hand, knew you without even having to think about it. He knew you as he knew himself, and he just knew you wouldn't do this.

"So what is it then." He starts harshly, so terribly confused it brings about anger, like he needs the answer right now because he doesn't know what to do next and time is running thin. 

Shaking your head, you shrug. "I don't know. I just-... I know that there's something going on here. Maybe by mistake, maybe intentionally, I don't know. But I didn't fucking do anything."

Ghost digests your words. You continue.

"I just need time to figure it out and I don't have it. I've got 141 and god fucking forbid, the Shadow's coming for this at this point." your face falls. "...Did anyone try to defend me after I left...?"

Ghost stiffens and swallows hard. You nod, laugh hoarsely. Of course.

"It was fast. There wasn't time to think." He offers. It made sense. You wondered what would have happened if anyone found you up here. If it had been Soap, or Gaz. Or Graves.

His eyes are softer now, his breathing leveling. Surely he's made a choice, but you aren't sure of which. You pray it's in your favor, that he realizes that this is you you're talking about. You pray he remembers all the time, the trust. As you watch him, like he's miles away from you, you can't help but notice him staring at you like you're just mere arms reach away.

Like you'd never left his arms at all, actually. Still flush against him a crying mess of pleads and hurt.

"Ghost, how copy?" Grave's voice pipes up from Ghost's radio.

You still. Ghost lingers a moment, like he doesn't want to answer, his eyes dart from his radio and then back to you, and you press your lips into a tight line.

Don't fucking answer it, your mind begs. Don't do this to me.

When Graves repeats himself, urgently this time, Ghost drags the radio begrudgingly up his clothed lips. Mouth running dry, hands shaking, you take a step back.

'Please,' You mouth. Ghost shakes his head and refuses to meet your gaze.

He was going to turn you in, after all.

He was a good soldier.

You, in that moment, recall the moments you spend side by side with this man. This scary, intimidating man, that you'd found comfort in. The person you plucked from the litter and thought to yourself, this one.

And he hadn't wanted you in. You bulldozed your way through until he found himself picking you out in crowds, remembering all those little things about you that no one else seemed to give a damn about. Waiting for you in the morning, sharing his thoughts and time.

You had always hoped, in another world, you two could enjoy life without all the pain together. A life outside of the army. 

Surely, it would have been enough.

Face downcast, you hear him take a breath to speak.

"Clear." He says. "No sign."

There was no stopping the tears that spilled down your cheeks at that moment, mouth covered to muffle yourself, crouching down as your knees shook.

"Sonofa bitch! Regroup back at point A." Graves says with a sigh.

"Copy." Ghost says quickly, shoving his radio back into his belt. He takes a knee in front of you, and his hands cup the side of your wet face. You eye him, babbling thank you over and over again, sick with fear, gratitude, and confusion. A cocktail that left an unnaturally horrendous taste on your lips. He retrieves a hand just long enough to set his knife down o the floor in front of you.

"Now you've got time." He says matter-of-factly, but you can still sense that urgency in his words. He wants you to escape. To figure this out and come back to him his friend and partner.

He takes your discarded radio and switches it to the proper channel so you could keep tabs on their whereabouts and plans. The voices of your squad chatter on the line, Soap's voice above all wondering how the fuck this was even happening. Bless his heart, he even mentioned being worried for you, which was quickly shot down by Graves reminding him of your betrayal.

As Ghost crouches before you, massive, all-powerful it seemed, you watch his eyes. He pats your cheek. His gloved finger points to the window.

"Ever try a stunt like that again, I'll kill you myself." He bites. You nod, struggling to compose yourself. He stands and your mind begs for him to stay, to be with you during this, but you know he can't.

He lingers in the doorway like he's thinking the same thing. 

"I will... Do what I can. Watch your back, soldier."

And then he's gone, and It's silent save for your harsh breaths. You shakily pull yourself up from the floor, grasping the knife he'd given you- his favorite blade entrusted to you. You'd wait for nightfall and make a run for it, find shelter day by day, and hopefully reconnect with him somewhere to go over what the hell was going on.

You prayed he'd find a way to convince them of your innocence, ask the right questions to the right people, and have more players in your court.

It would likely be your only way out of this awful nightmare.

[a-hobit]

There are not nearly enough “Izuku midoriya in denial” fics for me.

Katsuki has accepted and is trying to confess but Izuku won’t let him or constantly forces himself to only see what Katsuki says in a platonic way. Eventually Izuku is stressed and cornered. Katsuki tries confessing but Izuku childishly slams his palms over his ears — eyes squeezed shut. Katsuki is devastated and feels like Izuku must be burdened by his feelings so he just…stops trying to talk and his own eyes go cloudy while he fights back tears. Izuku can’t hear or see but somehow feels the air change around him.

He opens his eyes. He sees the person he cares most about with a hand clutched over his breaking heart and the other trying to wipe away the tears falling down his face — twisted into an expression so broken it’s something that Izuku can no longer ignore.

His own hands drop from his face to settle on quivering shoulders while he panics internally. He can feel blackwhip on the edges of his fingertips in a painful bid to be free of his iron will grasp on his own heart. It’s unceremoniously shoved back into that tight spot between his ribs that seems to ache with every uncontrolled hitch or sob in Katsuki’s breath while he tries desperately to understand what’s happened and how he can fix it unscathed.

Asking what’s wrong doesn’t seem to help and Katsuki only shakes harder and diggs deeper into his chest. His hands grow tight on the taller boys shoulders as Katsuki is able to scrape out the barest hint of his overwhelming feelings.

“Why won’t you let me? Are you angry with me now — disgusted? You let round face confess and gave her every bit of the kindness and compassion I know you have while rejecting her…don’t I deserve that too? The be able to speak and be spoken to? To love freely and hear an honest answer?”

“Will you not even look me in the eye so I can tell you the truth? That I love you?”

The thin thread of steel control that Izuku has been grasping to from that very first time he allowed himself to see, and love, and care, fully for the man in front of him snaps. Controlling that feeling has been the only way to keep blackwhip strangled and weak but the acknowledgment is paramount to the heavy door put on it with lock and key slamming open without mercy or thought.

Izuku suddenly let’s go of his companions shoulders to grasp desperately at his thin shirt — now covered in a foreboding inky blackness that seems intent on grasping something. Katsuki only has a moment of warning before he’s violently tugged straight to Izuku — their torsos knocking the air out of both of them in a rush. They’re both covered in strings of agitated looking tendrils that seem to tighten around them with every breath or unapproved move away from the other.

Izuku can feel the humiliation creep up his throat while his nose knocks into another. All he can see is twin red eyes that read to him as shocked. The blood finally reaches his face as he thrashes against the tight renforced hold that black whip — his own damn quirk!— has got them in. Quickly he ducks his head down and pulls at their restraint. He’s embarrassed and can’t choke out an apology fast enough.

“No!! I’m so sorry! I - I can’t make it stop — I don’t want you to hate me and I can’t even get control of my own quirk! God Kacchan please — !”

The tears are cold on his burning cheeks but there’s a soft hand to delicately wipe them away and gently pull Izuku’s face back into view. The other rests sweetly on his chest while Katsuki wears a unreadable look on his face. Their noses are close again and they can feel the breath the both let out unevenly.

Izuku’s eyes are wide and searching while Katsuki slides his hands over Izuku’s shoulders to clasp together around his neck. Katsuki’s head drops down in a thud against his collar bone while his own hands find themselves desperately grasping at his oldest friend’s school uniform. Not really caring about the creases he’s making his eyes squeeze out another tear or two before his head hits Katsuki’s collarbone in a mirror image.

They both take a moment to steady their breathing and hold each other like they’ve never been able to before.

Once they’ve both had their fill their heads pull up so they can meet eyes once more. Izuku feels a shutter come up his back as he croaks out a few words heavy with months of held back feeling.

“…you love me?”

Katsuki eyelids flutter and then pin Izuku with a fierce and determined expression.

“Yes. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you before you run away or make some lame excuse or fucking — put your hands over your ears?! Like a little kid?!”

He huffs petulantly and ironically child like in his own way. Izuku’s finally able to whisper out—

“…why?”

His eyes shoot wide as they take over Izuku’s face. He’s so lost for words he almost doesn’t hear the next confession.

“You — you don’t know me at all. You don’t know how selfish I am Kacchan…you haven’t seen me without you. I…I wanted Shigaraki dead when I saw what happened…it’s too much — and black whip! Just now didn’t even listen to me at all and just — took what I wanted! I don’t want you to be chained to someone so…so not worth your time Kacchan. You don’t deserve to be chained to my mistakes…my selfishness for you.”

“You don’t need such a burden to drag you down.”

Katsuki could only stare in disbelief that someone so forgiving, so loving, so kind could treat themselves so horrifically — could talk like that about themselves. It made his stomach turn watching Izuku fold more into himself with every nasty declaration of his own worthlessness. It fills him with so much anger he can’t help the venom in his voice when he replies.

“Who the hell do you think you are telling me what I can or can’t love?! It’s not your decision to make whether or not you’re a burden to me. As if I couldn’t handle you!”

[tactical-jellyfish]

Winding down

Synopsis: A mission's end is always an odd thing to live through, but you've found ways to manage, WARNINGS!: depiction of injury, pain, description of gun sounds and bullets. Canon-typical violence (mission) Little notes: Hurt my thumb (big typing finger for me) so if there are any errors with spelling, please don't mind This blog is still very much new to me, so if you have any little silly comments or requests for bonus stuff, send an ask! It'll make my day :) enjoy! (but only if you wanna)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- There was dust in the air, swirling like a typhoon that simply ached to consume you and all you held dear. It doesn't throw anyone off, though, you've all been trained better than that. Price's voice is in your ear again, biting out the order to "get out of there, you dolt, bomb's off in thirty seconds." It's nothing you've never heard before, you know you've cut it closer and got out fine, so you wait until you have to reload to push the button on your radio and bite back a response. "Give me ten, Cap, and I'll be clear. Stragglers." You can hear him growl under his breath, but quiet. Some part of you would smirk in satisfaction, tease the old man over knowing damn well you could pull your weight, but there isn't time for that now. You're on the clock, and it ticks much too fast The familiar, satisfying click soothes any remaining thought as you slam the gun's magazine into your thigh to push it in the rest of the way, peek out from behind your cover to unleash another spray of shots into the idiot who was trying to creep up on you. Fifteen seconds

If your ear serves you right, only one left. if you take him out in five, that leaves you ten to get out. Risky, but the odds aren't zero. Your radio buzzes back to life, but now it's the other John yapping at you, something something "Get out of there." and then your name. Johnny doesn't use your callsign, but your name. It pulls you back from the edge of bloodlust just long enough for your mental count to hit ten. "Right. Clearing out." That's all you bother with before setting on your mad dash for the exit of the decrepit concrete rectangle that is this building. West's compromised, too piled with bodies to be a safe bet for running, and East is blocked. So you run North, through unfamiliar, winding hallways, for your life. Six seconds

The thumps of your boots aren't alone. You were right, though, there's only one more soul in this nasty shit-hole. Five seconds You hear a magazine getting knocked into place, cuss to yourself and push even harder, try your damnedest to get out of this unscathed. It isn't looking good now. Four seconds A bullet tears through the wall right next to your head when you turn the corner with a resounding crack. Fuck. The thrum of adrenaline is the only thing that supports you as you continue the mad dash for the door, see it at the end of a long, straight hallway. Three seconds This is getting worse by the second, and you know it. This fucker has good aim, there's no space to zigzag or dash in a random direction like a flighty, scared animal. Two seconds Time to run the gauntlet. Glass crunches beneath the soles of worn boots, you fly through the hallway as fast as your legs will allow, silently screaming a prayer to a god you know never listens. One second

Right as you cross the doorway, there's another crack of a bullet, but it's drowned out by the bomb finally going off. The shockwave is so intense that it launches you into the air (it feels much higher than it is), and, all at once, you turn to get a look of who almost managed to put you in a box. They're all dolled up in tac gear, but you know the look in their eyes the second you spot it. It's the same determination that drives you forward, raw and feral and it's tinged by the rush of adrenaline you live for. Young, too, they couldn't be older than you were when you first joined the task force. Then, when the ceiling above them cracks and stars to come down, it's fear. Your memories of the minutes after are loose at best, but you try to piece them together. You know that, at some point, you rose to your feet, made the jog back to the evac point with that rookie's blood sprayed on the vest that caught their last bullet. It would have hit you right between the ribs. You know that Kyle wordlessly sets a cigarette between your parted lips, pulls you in by the neck to light it with his own, hazel eyes focused as he calms himself back down. You know that he's there, next to you, like always, it warms you, if only slightly. Kyle doesn't press, doesn't try to talk, but he makes a point to show you that he's there. You know that Johnny breathes out a plume of that weird vape shit he's been swearing by (it smells like a public restroom if it was mint flavored), makes a bad joke about "butt fucking" because that's what they call bumming a light in Scotland. You think his friends just picked it up from shitty American movies and lied to him. You know that, when you finally take a drag, the nicotine shocks your systems back into full function. You know that when you open your eyes again, the world is clear. You see Price trot forward and let out a breath of both annoyance and pride. He used to tear you a new one every time you pulled a stunt like this, but now he knows better, knows you operate at your best in the split second between like and death. So now, you feel his hand pat the shoulder of your vest, resigned but proud. You feel your cheeks round with a small smile when you finally pull the cig back from between you lips, finally yourself again. "Not bad, ain't it? All targets neutralized." Your voice is just a little raspier than normal, tinged with the fading of your adrenaline high. From the corner of your eye, you see Ghost, leaning on the helicopter's side. He nods. "Aye, that was feckin' pretty, ye stupid lil cunt!" Your snort seems to make Johnny beam even wider than before, you feel the warmth of his side as he pulls you into a firm, one-armed hug. Out of sheer habit, you retch jokingly, and shove him back. "Gross! You're fucking sweaty, Soap, don't muck up my good shirt!" Your 'good shirt' is torn at the bottom hem, has a fine spray of blood on it, and is half-covered in concrete dust from the former building that is now a pile of smoking rubble a few hundred meters away. It'll all come off in the wash, just like today's sins will spiral into the drain of a weird-smelling communal shower room. And you know, come tomorrow, you'll be training with your boys once more, trading quips and barbs and soaking in camaraderie. For now, that's more than enough.

[angel-eyes05]

What's In A Name

pairing: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

summary: as a master thief, you pride yourself on never getting caught. that is until you're caught by the straw hats as you try stealing from their ship. unable to turn you in to the authorities just yet, they'll have to make due with storing you on the going merry in the meantime. but, your time in confinement has allowed you to get particularly close to a certain swordsman. how close the two of you get is to be decided though.

warnings/info: nsfw mdni, oral sex (fem receiving), alcohol consumption, drunk/tipsy sex, face riding, my own sex headcanons for zoro are VERY clear here lmao ,takes place in between jaya and skypiea (please pretend theres more time at sea in between those arcs cause this will not work otherwise OK THANKS), this is for the pre-time skip zoro girlies (he's 19 pre-time skip dont come for me), no use of y/n, the first half of this is just cute shenanigans between reader and the straw hats. its a lot of character building stuff but i like it.

word count: 6.3k

notes: HI GUYS IM BACK IVE MADE MY RETURN I FOUND SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT!!!! and its the longest fic ive ever written too god damn what a comeback lmao. ok so i started watching one piece and im head over heels in love with this man...but i'm only up to water 7 rn so i only know how to properly write for pre-time skip zoro so thats how this is gonna go. i was looking for zoro/one piece fics to read but theyre literally all established relationship ones which aren't my cup of tea so im doing it myself lmao. also i didnt proofread i got too lazy sorry if some stuff doesnt make sense sorry sorry sorry but im a simple lazy tired girlie lmao enjoy!!

dividers by: @cafekitsune

You didn’t know any of their names.

You had been aboard the Going Merry for about three weeks now, and you still hadn’t learned anyone’s names. Granted, your reason for being there wasn’t to make friends anyway. That wasn’t particularly easy to do, being tied up in some storage closet and all. 

Being one of the few residents who actually lived on Jaya had allowed you to pick up a skill or two when it came to stealing. Pirates with big bounties and even bigger treasures left their ships unattended at the docks, leaving you with some perfect quick heists from time to time. Some steals were easier than others. As much as you believed in your talents, most of the time your ability to get out unscathed was based purely on the luck of the draw. It wasn’t an easy life, many recent nights leaving you with more injuries than berries and gold pieces, but it was all you knew having lived here for so long. 

After having taken a break from heists for a bit, you finally laid your eyes on a ship worth stealing from. A pirate ship with a goat out in front and seemingly orange trees next to the helm. Most of the ships at the dock had been there for a while, leaving the pirates on board used to your tricks already. Being low on cash was another factor. So, after a bit of planning, you made your way onto the ship.

Earlier, you had found that one of the windows to a cabin had been left open, so you decided to make your entrance through there. You gathered your things and dove into the crystal blue water by the dock. Once you made it to the back of the ship, you took your rope, with your own handmade grappling hook at the end, and swung it to hook on the window sill. Luckily for you, it stuck the landing on the first try. You smirked to yourself and used the hook as leverage to climb up onto the ship. Unfortunately, this seemed to be the ship’s bathroom. Not super ideal. You’d have to venture more out into the ship. But with this came the risk of getting caught. Given your dire circumstances though, it was a risk you were willing to take.

With an attempt to make as little creak as possible, you slightly opened the door into the rest of the interior. Coast was clear so far. Suddenly, a shake rattled throughout the interior. You tumbled onto the floor, pushing open a door due to your unbalance. What the fuck was that, you thought to yourself. It quickly became no matter though, when you noticed the door had opened up to a room with a treasure chest tucked away in the back. Jackpot. You slyly made your way into the room and shut the door behind you. 

The room was neatly kept, with bookshelves, a couch, two sleeping hammocks, and a desk with navigation tools on it. There was even a bar. Though temptation pursued at you, you had to stay on task. While making your way over to the chest, you heard different creaks vibrating across the walls of the ship. You prayed to yourself that it was just the wood’s reaction to the waves. As you had predicted, the chest was locked, so you searched your bag for anything that could key the lock. 

Time became of the essence quickly as the thuds and creaks on the ship grew louder and louder. Finally, the lock to the chest made a perfect click, as the chest unlocked. You lifted the roof of the chest to find a sight for sore eyes: jewels and gold galore. This was it, you were set. You were so in awe with the vision before you, that you had failed to notice the woman standing behind you. The image you saw in one of the emeralds was a tall figure, with jet-black hair just below her shoulders, and dazzling blue eyes. “Looking for something?” the woman questioned, almost sarcastically. You seemed to have forgotten rule number one of thieving. Remember to lock the door behind you.

Quick on your feet, you whip around to throw a punch in her face, but her reflexes seem to be quicker than yours by the way she catches your fist. You then attempt to kick out her legs. The image you see next shakes you to your core. A hand, seeming to appear out of thin air, attaches itself to your calf. The hand then slowly raises your fear-frozen body into the air, dangling you upside down like a party toy. You attempt to throw more hits at her, all seeming to be in vain though. You kick and scream, like a child throwing a tantrum, in an attempt to get out. The woman looks out into the hallway and signals over another one of her companions. Fuck, this is turning sour fast. Before you can make out any other features of the man, besides his cartoonishly long nose, he uses his slingshot to pelt a rock towards your forehead. Your vision goes black as the rest of the pirates rush into the room.

The rough fibers of the rope tying your wrists together were the first thing you felt as you woke up. This was quickly followed by the underlying nausea from the waves rocking the boat, reminding you why you preferred to stay on land. You attempted to stand up, but your dizziness and the rope tying you to the floor weren’t letting you get very far. Suddenly, the door to whatever room you were in swung open, and the group of 7 pirates living on board entered the room. You slinked yourself along the back wall, attempting to disappear into your skin. You weren’t sure what felt worse: The fear of what they were going to do to you, or the embarrassment that you had been doing this for so long and still got caught.

Nope, definitely the embarrassment.

The man, no boy was a better word to describe him, standing in the middle of them attempted to speak to you before a woman with short orange hair cut him off. “If you think we’re gonna let you get off easily just because we’re also pirates, you’d be sorely mistaken!” she spoke, fiery anger lacing her words. The tall woman from earlier put her hand on her shoulder, calming her down, and walked out towards you. You tried to scoot away as much as you could as she crouched down to your level. 

“Listen, we want this to be over as much as you do. We would love nothing more than to get you off our ship and drop you off at the nearest island. But unfortunately for us, that would mean having to find a group of marines to hand you over to, who we aren’t the best of friends with right now. And we can’t drop you back off at Jaya since we’re too far by this point. So, for now, we’ll just have to keep you tied down here if that works out with you.” You began to speak before the woman cut you off. “You don’t have much of a choice in the matter by the way.”

She stood back up and began to exit the room, the other pirates following her except for two. The boy with the straw hat and another man, with striking green hair and three swords lying in a holster on his belt. The boy looked somberly at you as if he was against this whole idea. But the green-haired one just stared at you. As uncomfortable as it made you feel, you couldn’t help staring back into his piercingly soft eyes. “Come on, let’s go,” the green-haired man said to the boy, finally breaking eye contact and turning his back to leave. The boy followed him shortly after. As he closed the door, you had nothing left to focus on except for the itchiness of the rope, the empty stuffiness surrounding the storage room, and your worsening seasickness.

The following weeks had the same routine. Each of the pirates on board took individual shifts watching you during the day when they were just out at sea. The strange reindeer creature would watch you when they were out on islands. The first shift was taken by the tall black-haired woman. She would come in at the break of dawn to make sure you didn’t find some way to escape at night. You two would sit in silence for a little more than two hours, asking and answering some questions before switching spots with the blonde one. His company was strange, with him hitting on you at random points in your conversations, but he always brought you breakfast in the morning. As much as he made you uncomfortable sometimes, you couldn’t deny that his cooking was the best you’d had in years. He’d even let you take a hit off his cigarettes if you ever asked, so his visits had its perks. 

The next shift was taken by the orange-haired one. The first thing she would always do when walking into the room was ask you how creepy the blonde one was. The answer varied on the day. Once she warmed up to you, she would bring you tangerines from the trees out on the deck. As the days passed, she eventually explained that the treasure you attempted to steal belonged to her, which you begrudgingly apologized for. On some level, you felt bad. These seemed to be small-time pirates, just trying to get by like you were. The more you learned about each of them, the worse you felt about your actions towards them. 

Around lunchtime, the long-nosed one would bring you your meal, cooked again by the blonde man. This member would go into detail about his next invention he was working on in his workshop. You admired his passion and energy towards his craft. His rants and rambles were normally interrupted by the reindeer creature coming in for his shift, causing intense, yet entertaining, arguments to break out between the two of them. The reindeer was the sweetest of all the crew members, always checking in on your health and helping you with your seasickness. He would talk about his home and his experiences there. You developed a pity for the creature. His presence was calming, and you felt as if you could let your guard down around him. That would change as soon as the straw hat boy would come bouncing into the room, scaring both you and the animal. You would soon come to learn the energetic boy was the captain of the ship, which shocked you. But you soon came to understand why. His crew had a massive respect for him, even if he was the root of half their problems.

Being on the ship, you got extremely close to all the pirates. Even the tall woman from before seemed to respect you in some way. You enjoyed all of their company. There was something strange about them though. One morning early in your stay on the ship, you could’ve sworn you’d heard the tall woman say something to the rest of the crew. 

“Whatever you do, don’t tell her your name. Your name is your biggest secret.”

You didn’t know any of their names. You had thought you heard some of them speak it to each other in passing conversations, but not enough to remember who was who. You had bonded with them, but if someone put a gun to your head and told you to name your prison guard pirates, you’d be dead in seconds.

Except for one.

Zoro seemed to be his name. He would come in for the last shift. His presence didn’t frighten you, but it slightly intimidated you. His habit of carrying his swords everywhere he went wasn’t helping. He was silent his entire shift, normally dosing off halfway through after spending around an hour sharpening his swords You didn’t even attempt to make conversation with him. You found out his name when the captain would yell for him to get back to his sleeping quarters. “Zoro! Your shift’s done, you can sleep for real now!” he shouted across the hall the first time it happened. Zoro almost bounced up from his sleep and gave you one look before bolting out of the room to catch up to the captain. You could hear the echoes of their bickering from down the hall as you giggled to yourself. At least he didn’t seem to always be that stern.

It seemed crazy to you. His name was the only one you knew, yet you knew the least about him. He had hardly said 5 sentences to you in the three weeks you had been on the boat. His stoicism was one of the things that drew you into him though. Something about his demeanor, how intensely he would sharpen his swords, how his worries seemed to melt away the minute he escaped into a slumber, and how alive he seemed when he was with his crew. It was enticing. You wanted to know more. You attempted asking him questions about himself, but the most you would get were one to two-word answers. The most you got from him was when your seasickness finally got to you, causing you to puke up the dinner the blonde one made for you. “Woah, are you okay?” he asked concernedly, shooting up from his seat. When your only response was a cough and more puke, he ran out of the room to go get the reindeer. One thing he failed to do was close the door behind him. 

You speculated your options. You had no idea where you were. You could be out in the middle of the ocean. Or you could be right about to dock at land. If you managed to scrape yourself about the ever-loosening rope and sneak out, you’d be free. You’d never have to worry about these pirates again. 

At this point though, did you want to?

You took too long to decide, the reindeer rushing into the room with his medical kit, the blonde one short behind him. As the reindeer gave you a dose of medicine and cleaned up your mess and the blonde one held your hand and consoled you, your attention stayed by the doorframe. Zoro leaned against the wood, watching the work from afar. What shocked you most of all was his face. For a man who seemed so disinterested in you and your existence, his brows were furrowed, his cheeks had a light pink stain on them, and a slight frown invaded his face. He was concerned. Maybe even a little nervous. But why? He’d never shown any sort of emotion towards you before other than sleepiness. Once the reindeer and the blonde one left, he continued with his shift. You noticed something though. He sat closer to you than he normally did. 

You couldn’t tell, but you were blushing the rest of his shift.

Once he left, you sat in silence, thoughts racing through your mind, until you finally fell asleep.

You noticed a change in his behavior in the next few days. When you would ask him a question, he would respond now. And with more than just a “yes” or “no” too. He had more energy around you and wouldn’t spend his whole shift asleep. He would even let out a chuckle now and then. You didn’t know what you had done differently to get him like this, but you liked him like this. He was sweeter than he let on. 

Something had changed in you too though. On the occasions, you would catch yourself looking over his appearance. The more you observed, the more you realized how handsome he was. His clear, warm skin, his hypnotic eyes, his striking hair. You caught his appearance giving you butterflies when he would walk into your storage room. Your heart skipping a beat when he would give you even the smallest smile. You would stare even more when he would nap during his shift. Noticing certain things. The way his breath would hitch sometimes. How he always slept with his mouth open and would wake himself up sometimes with his dry mouth coughs. How his chest rose and fell with his soft breaths. How fighting with a sword in his mouth probably made his tongue stronger than other men you’ve met. You felt weird about it sometimes. Almost like some freakish stalker. But you would feel better about yourself whenever you would catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye. 

As time went on, the crew began to give you some more freedom. The tall woman began leaving some of her archeology books in the storage room to keep you entertained. The orange-haired one would show you all her marked-up maps. The long-nosed one would even let you out of the rope to test his inventions from time to time. With the door locked of course. And then, the big display came. One day, during everyone’s shift, they told you their names. The blonde one was Sanji. The orange-haired one was Nami. The reindeer was Chopper. The long-nosed one was Usopp. Their captain was Luffy. And the tall woman, who initiated your imprisonment, was Robin. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you. With each passing shift, you grew more excited for the next. To learn the next pirate’s name, and with that, their story. Until the last shift of the day came. And you realized.

You already knew his name.

“My name’s Zoro,” he said quietly. “I know,” you replied, bluntly. 

Something felt different about this shift. You didn’t feel the same excitement you normally felt when seeing him. Without your connection to him before, his being the only name you knew, something about him just didn’t excite you as much. Now he noticed your behavior change. “You okay?” he inquired. “Mhm,” you responded in monotony. The rest of his time there was spent in silence. 

You felt bad about what you were doing. This wasn’t his fault. Yet you were acting like this. It was almost as if the two of you swapped places. He was now the one trying to dig information out of you. And you gave him nothing more than blank faces and empty words. You wished you could figure out why you were acting like this, but you had no clue.

Today though, the crew was going to take an extra step towards including you. Throughout your time on the Going Merry, you had only left your little storage room prison a few times. To go to the bathroom and visit the kitchen on special occasions. But you hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. After proving to the crew you had changed, they planned a little surprise for you.

Robin woke you up earlier than usual. “Is everything ok?” you asked, still half asleep. Robin just smiled at you. “Come on, get up.” You looked at her confused, as she walked over to your restraints, untying you from the hook keeping the rope down. She took you by your restraints and walked you out to the room. The mix of drowsiness and confusion left you slightly panicked as you realized she was walking you out to the deck. She opened the door to a still-dark morning. 

The rest of the Straw Hats were sitting out on the deck, just conversing and eating an extra early breakfast, courtesy of Sanji. They all turned to you once you and Robin walked out. “What’s going on,” you asked, still very confused. “On Thursdays, we all like to get up early and sit out and watch the sunrise. And we were talking about it, and we felt like you should join us this time,” Nami smiled. She stood up and pranced over to you, mouth slightly agape and speechless, and took you over to sit in between her and Zoro. You turned to Zoro, overwhelmed with emotions. 

It had been so long since you felt a part of a community of people. You never exactly fit in with the ruthless bands of pirates coming and going on Jaya. Finally feeling connected to people, especially after you wronged them so horribly, brought you happiness you hadn’t felt in ages. 

A singular “I-” was all you could manage to get out, a tear trickling down your cheek. “Just enjoy it. They’ll be at each other’s throats again in a minute,” he joked, getting a soft laugh out of you. He smiled gently, brushing the tear off your cheek. His finger lingered there longer than expected. You blushed. The butterflies were back and you caught yourself staring again.

“What’s that supposed to mean!” Nami interrupted. “Well, it’s true!” Zoro retorted, leaning over you to yell at Nami. The two began arguing as you noticed the sun starting to peak out over the horizon. “Shut up you two, you’re gonna make her miss it!” Usopp and Luffy yelled. They stopped bickering once they also noticed the sky begin to turn orange. 

The pinks and oranges mixed together in a beautiful watercolor painting as the sun reflected its image on the ocean. The soft waves bobbed the ship up and down in a calming hypnotic motion, almost putting you back to sleep. The beauty of it all was so serene. Against popular opinion, you always preferred sunrises to sunsets. The representation of a new day beginning. It gave you hope in your most dire situations. 

You lifted your head back to see the colors slowly spreading to the rest of the sky. Everyone to your right was in the same headspace you were like they were in some sort of trance. They were all cuddling against each other, Robin holding Chopper in her lap, Luffy and Usopp mimicking each other’s smiles, and Nami resting her head on Sanji’s shoulder. They all seemed so close to each other. Like a little family. Connected. You turned to Zoro to see if he was doing the same as the others, but all you found was his eyes softly gazing into yours, and his hand slowly inching towards yours. The minute he snapped out of it, he sharply turned his head and hand away and cleared his throat. You couldn't help but laugh at his schoolboy behavior. With your ego controlling your actions, you took his hand and slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. You could see a smile float onto his face out of the corner of your eye. You did the same.

The rest of the day was spent out on the deck. The feeling of the sun on your skin for the first time in weeks was euphoric. All you wanted to do was soak it all in. The Straw Hats must have been in a good mood today, because, with some extra convincing, you got them to finally take off your shackles. You spent most of the day sunbathing out on the deck with Nami. She had let you borrow one of your bikinis. You two were slightly different sizes though, so the suit was a little tight on you. You didn’t mind very much. You were just happy to be out of the same clothes you had worn for 3 weeks. Sanji didn’t mind either, ogling both you and Nami and basically worshipping the two of you. “It’s ok, he’ll get over it in a few hours,” Nami consoled. You circled the deck a few times to see if Zoro was anywhere in sight, but you couldn’t seem to find him. He probably went inside to nap away from the heat. Part of you wanted him to get the rest he deserved. The other really wanted him to see you in your outfit. 

The day really took a turn when Usopp brought out the liquor from the kitchen. “I was saving that asshole!” Sanji yelled. “Oh come on, this is a special occasion!” Usopp pleaded. With some more convincing, Sanji finally gave in. You and the crew got increasingly drunk throughout the evening, Zoro eventually coming out from wherever he was napping to join the party. You all had even decided to jump into the ocean and swim around for a little bit. All except for Chopper, very sober and very nervous for any incoming sea monsters. He had managed to get you all back onto the ship with some very convincing pleading.

You and Zoro caught each other catching glimpses of one another throughout the rest of the day. Zoro admiring your figure in the swimsuit, and you ogling at the way his damp shirt hugged at his muscles. One by one, as day grew into night, crew members began to pass out on the deck, deciding to sleep outside for the night. You and the other members who wanted to go back into the cabin, Zoro and Robin, made your way back down into the ship. “Make sure you tie her back up. No hard feelings but we can’t be too careful.” Even slightly tipsy, she was still her stern old self. “Yeah whatever whatever, goodnight to you too,” Zoro drunkenly pushed off. You giggled and blushed as he took your hand and led you down the stairs into the cabin. Robin sighed to herself as she watched the two of you scamper off.

You felt your heartbeat get increasingly faster as he led you to your room. For some reason, the air in the hallway got thicker as you got closer. You blamed it on your tipsiness. But your heart slowly sank as you got to the door, realizing you had to say goodbye to Zoro for the day. He opened the door and stumbled into your room, leading you in behind him. He closed the door behind him, hesitating for a moment before going to wrap the rope back around your wrists. 

He seems distressed for some reason, breathing heavily and avoiding eye contact. You look down at your hands, as he so gently maneuvers the rope around them. The butterflies begin to well up in your stomach again, the alcohol fueling their ferocity. His hands. So calloused yet so gentle. You can smell the remnants of sake exuding from Zoro’s heavy breaths. You looked back up at him. Were you two always standing this close together? You the butterflies keep rising and rising. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re not sure if you should run, kiss him, punch him, but you have to do something before you implode. Until. He stops.

The rope undoes itself in his hands as he freezes. His hands are shaking, his breath is heavy, and his eyes avoid yours like the plague. You were just getting antsy but Zoro seemed in distress. “Hey?” you ask, lowering your hands and dropping the rope to the floor. “Zoro?” You take your hand under his chin and lift his eyes to yours. You might throw up at any second. His eyes are so softly intense. 

He brushed his thumb against your cheek, sending chills down your spine. You both want the same thing. Both of you are just too scared to take the chance. “It’s ok. You’re okay,” you reassure him, placing your hand over his heart. His heart, which happens to be underneath his bare chest, him having taken off his wet shirt earlier. His breathing slows, and his eyes move down ever so smoothly from your eyes to your plump lips. You catch yourself doing the same to him, and you inching closer to him. “You’re fine.” Closer. “We’re gonna be…fine.” Your lips barely brush each other. The gentleness of the kiss is calming though, as you notice Zoro’s breath slowing. 

You brush again. And again. And again. Lips touching a little more with each meet. Until they fully interlock. The two of you melt into each other as Zoro wanders your back into a wall for support. Your kisses are structured, made to get the most out of each meeting. You’re both ravenous for each other, but you know if you go at each other like mad dogs, you won’t get what you want. So you both take your time getting to know the feeling of the other person’s mouth. You slip a moan out as Zoro’s tongue seeps between your lips. His kisses get slightly more sloppy as he runs his hands down your body. He feels the underneath of your breasts, the curves of your waist and hips, and finds a nice resting place under your ass. Your hands roam his cheeks and jaw, making their way to tug slightly on his moss-colored hair. 

“Needed this,” Zoro whispers in between kisses. “Needed you so badly. But I didn’t know how.” He separates his lips from yours and plants kisses and hickeys along your jaw and neck. “I was always just too nervous for some reason. You make me so nervous.” His hands find their way into your bikini bottom and fondle your asscheeks, getting a low moan out of you. The alcohol must’ve given him a confidence boost. “Good to see you found your footing now,” you whisper in his ear. He chuckles, the butterflies speeding up in your stomach. 

The two of you stay here for a little bit. Hell, you could stay like this for hours. Just soaking each other in. Feeling his warmth brought a fire into your soul. You could tell Zoro was getting a little antsy though, one of his hands moving from your back to your front, beginning to slowly circle your clit. The other hand went to your bikini, untying the back and letting it fall to the floor as his mouth moved to your breast. Waves of pleasure crashed through your body as you let him do his work. “God, you sure this is your first time?” you moaned out. He removed his mouth from your nipple to talk. “Never said it was, sweetheart. You just assumed it.” “Well from the loner vibe you got going on mixed with being on this ship 24/7, you can’t blame me for thinking that.” “Well the loner vibe worked on you, so who’s to say it hasn’t worked on others?” he smirked. You laughed to yourself as he got down on his knees.

Zoro slipped off your bikini bottom, completing the set on the floor. He kissed your v-line with the same softness he treated your lips to. He sat back on his knees for a moment to catch his breath, looking up at you, as if to ask for permission. You held your hand out to his cheek and rubbed it with your thumb. His eyes closed as he placed his hand over yours, as if you would ever take it away from him. God now this was a sight you could get used to. He was so infatuated with you it made your heart ache. He was right here at your disposal, yet you wanted more of him. So you bent down and gave him a sloppy forehead kiss. Once you were back up, he decided to go in. 

Like most things he does, he started slow and controlled. He kissed and sucked on your inner thighs. Once his hand finally left your clit, you knew he was ready. He kissed your cunt, using his tongue to lick up your wetness. You could pass out right now if you had less self-control. Whimpers and moans left your lips, your hips naturally starting to grind against his nose, relieving the ache in your clit. You let him know what felt good by the tugs and yanks you put in his hair. He was a natural. Your guess about his tongue earlier was right too. “You taste so good, just as I imagined,” Zoro breathed onto your lips. You could tell he was starting to lose his composure with the way he continued to bury his face into your pussy. Your cunt naturally tightened around his tongue as he tasted you. Your hips began to buck into his face as your grinding pace increased, the butterflies turning into a white heat you felt getting stronger and stronger. Your bud was becoming more swollen by the second. Your grip on his hair tightened to make up for your failing knees. 

You wouldn’t be able to take much more. Zoro wouldn’t either, his hand making its way into his pants to relieve his own bulge. His pace got faster to match your grinds. The smack of your lips against his tongue, mixed with both of your moans, was pornographically loud. Suddenly, the situation of Robin or another crew member hearing became an apparent one to you. That worry quickly left your mind once one of Zoro’s hands made its way to fondle your nipple. If he asked you to follow him anywhere right now, you might just do it if it meant this every other night. You felt he knew your body better than you did. “So pretty. So good for me. You make this so easy,” Zoro groaned between licks. “Zoro god fuck me please!” Your final whimper sent you over the edge as you wailed and came all over his perfect face. He licked up your juices as he finished his own job as well. Your knees finally gave out as you fell on top of him, into his arms.

He brought you down gently, straddling you on his lap as you wrapped your arms around him. He traced his cum soaked hand across your back and kissed your nape. You were more exhausted than expected, almost passing out in the crook of his neck. Even now, he was so gentle with you. “You did so good, darling,” he praised, kissing your earlobe. “Want…more…want you…inside me,” you managed to get out. He just laughed and pushed you up to look at you. “If you took me right now, I don’t think you’d wake up tomorrow morning. Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open, sweetheart,” he teased. You pouted. “Oh, you feel that proud of yourself?” your drunkenness fueling your frustration. “No no no, sweetheart,” he chuckled. Once your frown didn’t change, he stopped laughing and pressed a kiss deep into your forehead. “I’m sorry. What I meant was, if I fucked you with everything I have left right now, which is the only way I would want to do it, this floor would leave us with sore backs for weeks.” You stayed frowning. “I want to fuck you right, the way you deserve. And I can’t do it for you right now.” You pouted more at him. He smiled up at you and leaned in closer to your ear. “If you trust me, I promise I’ll make it worth your while. You’ll be walking funny for weeks.” God, you almost came again just now. You didn’t notice how much your jaw dropped until Zoro laughed at you. You couldn’t help but laugh back in tune with his infectious laughter. 

He kissed you with a fever behind his lips, then scanned the room around the two of you. “What’s wrong?” you drowsily asked. The exhaustion from you coming, the sleepiness brought by the alcohol, and how late it was getting was starting to overpower you. Zoro didn’t respond. He just grabbed your swimsuit and helped you put it back on, tightened your legs around his hips, and hoisted you up as he stood. You decided to ask questions once you had a clearer idea of what was happening. He opened the door and walked with you down the hallway, passing the girl’s quarters and into the men’s room. He checked inside quickly before bringing you in and signaling you to bring your legs down. You confusedly followed him to his bed as he groaned, rubbed his back, and sat down on the edge of the bunk. “Wanna explain to me what you’re doing?” you asked, slightly more awake. “If you think I’m just gonna leave you to sleep alone, tied up, on that dirty floor after what we just did, then you must think I’m a really shitty guy,” Zoro quipped before getting under the covers and trying to pull you down. You put some resistance towards him though. 

“B-but Zoro, I’m not supposed to be in here.”

“I know.”

“If someone catches me in here we’re both fucked.”

“They won’t catch you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ll wake up before Robin starts her shift.”

“Are you sure, I mean I just don’t kn-.”

“Hey.”

You stop your nervous rabbling and look at him as he sits back up. “Do you want to go back and sleep on the cold, dirty, hard floor?” You really didn’t. “No.” “Then stay here with me.” “But what if-.” “Do you trust me?”

You sure hope you did after all of that. His kind eyes reassured you in the darkness surrounding the two of you. You took a deep breath and nodded. “Do you trust me?” he asked again. “I trust you, Zoro,” you confirmed. He smiled kindly at you. “You’re fine. We’re gonna be fine.” He steadied you by placing his hands on your hips, running his hands along your waist, and pressing his lips into your tummy. You loved the way he looked at you. Like you were his whole world. It was comforting.

He took your hand and helped you into bed. You bundled yourself under the covers and wrapped yourself around his frame. He kissed your temples one more time before slipping into sleep, his light snores hypnotizing you into a slumber of your own.

The last thing you remember before dozing off was the feeling of his hands on your waist.

Everything you wanted was right here. In front of you. Straight out of a dream. Your only fear was that it would be gone once you woke up.

a/n: THIS TOOK FOREVER GOOD LORD. anyways thanks for being here for my comeback era lol. my upload schedule is NOT going to be consistent this is just a little splurge i wanted to write lol. thank you for reading i really appreciate it (i also really appreciate engagement lol please like repost comment etc im greedy). i love one piece and i love zoro. once i meet law expect all hell to break loose im gonna write so much fanfiction about him its concerning hes so fine im so excited. anyways lol thanks love you bye.

[bilbo12]

When Hope Says No

Hajime stood near the fountain, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stared down at the sparkling droplets of water. It had taken everything in him to decline it, but in the end, he had done it. The words were out there now, but they still echoed in his skull, laced with fear.

“I don’t want to join the Izuru Kamukura Project.”

He had been so excited when the offer had first been offered to him. A way to be able to finally have not one, but multiple Talents? It sounded like a dream coming true!

He had quickly told Chiaki about it, wanting to share his excitement with her, but to his disappointment, she had only grimaced and frowned. She seemed even more alarmed when Hajime told her how he had to sign a contract so they could perform an experimental surgery on him. She had told him to wait for a few days, even though he had been desperate to sign the contract already. 

And now, he was thankful he had waited.

Chiaki had told Fuyuhiko, the Ultimate Yakuza Heir, to hack the computers of the lab of the Reserve Course building so they could really discover what all those experiments really were about. Hajime had talked to him once or twice before and even though he was way smaller than him, he honored his Talent with his intimidating aura and piercing eyes. It had taken a bit of convincing, but eventually, Fuyuhiko had pulled some strings along his men to be able to get the information.

However, things weren’t so easy. Even though they had been able to get some of the information involving the general idea of the experiments, there were still some details that they hadn’t been able to get. So, they had also enlisted the help of Gundham so that one of the Devas could run into the room with a hard drive and extract the information more easily that way. He had outright refused to help at first, but it only took a few compliments from Hajime and the acceptance of the Four Dark Devas of Destruction to agree to help them.

It had taken more time than they wanted to, but once they got the information, they felt sick.

Needles into the brain, erasure of memories and feelings so there’d be more space for the Talents, complete loss of identity and painful and intrusive surgeries that wouldn’t stop until they got their Ultimate Hope.

And so, Hajime’s conviction of signing the contract completely broke.

He went straight to the board to reject the project as soon as possible, and so, there he was now, his mind still swirling as he stood under the afternoon sunlight.

”Oi,” a voice called out to him and when he turned around, he saw Fuyuhiko along with Gundham approaching him. “How did it go?”

Hajime sighed and turned around so he could face them. “It went… okay, I guess?” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “They had a weird look on their faces when I rejected them, but other than that, they let me go pretty easily.”

“It looks like the knights of the void didn’t put much resistance to your refusal.” Gundham hummed.

Hajime nodded before looking around. “By the way, where’s Chiaki?”

”She had to stay after class. Was talking with the teach about something when we left.” Fuyuhiko shrugged.

Hajime nodded before sighing. “I was so excited about the project when they told me I was the ‘ideal candidate’. But…“ He shook his head. “I never expected for them to go that far…”

”You’re not a damn experiment, that’s for sure.” Fuyuhiko tsked while Gundham nodded in agreement.

”Indeed. You should be proud, young warrior. You defied the mechanical overlords, cast aside the promise of unnatural evolution and spat in the face of their false gods. Not only that, you also came out unscathed from it. A feature not many people are able to achieve.” He said with an approving voice.

Hajime glanced down, cheeks flushed slightly, but whether from embarrassment or something else, he didn’t know.

A sudden click of boots against the ground made the three of them turn. Two men in black suits approached them, their expressions cold and unreadable beneath tinted security glasses. They stopped just a few feet away.

”Hajime Hinata?” One of them asked flatly.

Hajime frowned in confusion. “Yeah?”

”You need to come with us. Now.”

That ominous sentence only served to make him nervous. Fuyuhiko and Gundham frowned, their bodies bracing for whatever would happen next.

”W-What? But why? If it’s because of the cleaning duty, it’s not my turn today, it’s—“

“That’s not why you have to come with us.” One of the men interrupted him.

Hajime blinked bewilderly. “Then why?”

The men looked at each other, looking almost bored before looking back at him.

“You’ve been summoned regarding your role in the Izuru Kamukura Project. You need to come with us.” They said at the same time, which okay, was kinda creepy.

Hajime felt a cold chill down his spine and he took a step back. “T-There must have been some kind of miscommunication.” He argued. “I just got out of a meeting with the board today and told them I don’t want to join the project! And when they first told me about this project, they said I could always refuse if I wanted to!”

One of them shook his head. “That was before they discovered how much of an ideal type your body is. You match perfectly with the procedures so we can get the Ultimate Hope.”

”Even so, he said he’s not interested.” Fuyuhiko growled, startling Hajime slightly. He had almost forgotten Fuyuhiko and Gundham were still there. “You deaf or something, old man?”

They completely ignored him and advanced more towards Hajime. His nervousness started turning into fear as he stepped away even more. Gundham’s presence was like a shadow beside him, unyielding. Without thinking, he stepped back, then back again until he found himself hiding behind Gundham’s broad form. Fuyuhiko soon stepped aside to be next to Gundham and Hajime clutched part of his jacked lightly, as though he could shield himself from what was coming.

”You don’t understand,” Hajime said, trying to make his voice as firm as possible. “I don’t want to go through this procedure…”

”It’s not about what you want. You’ve been chosen. End of the discussion.”

”You dare approach this sanctuary of souls with your invasive machinations?” Gundham growled, arms spreading as though preparing to cast a protective spell. “Begone, agents of corruption!”

The guards exchanged yet another glance, but didn’t move any closer.

”This is official academy business,” one warned. “Stand aside.”

”Ha! My companions and I care not for your hollow decrees,” Gundham declared, one hand lightly resting on the hamster pouch of his scarf. “If you wish to tear him away, then come— face the wrath of the Tanaka Kingdom!”

”You heard him, creeps,” Fuyuhiko growled, his body tense as he glared at them. “Back off.”

And even though they both wore sunglasses, Hajime somehow knew that they were rolling their eyes at them.

”This doesn’t concern you. Leave.” One of them said.

Fuyuhiko’s eyes narrowed. “That so?”

”I don’t want to do this,” Hajime said, his heart starting to pound with panic. “Please—I don’t want to be part of your damn experiment!”

One of the guards reached for something in his coat.

Click.

“Don’t even fucking try it.”

The sudden sound of a gun being cocked froze the moment in time. Fuyuhiko’s pistol gleamed in the fading sunlight, pointed straight at the first guard’s leg. His hands were steady, his gaze ice-cold.

”I don’t give a damn if you’re with the school or some top-secret committee,” he snarled. “You lay a hand on him, I’ll put a bullet through your leg. The next one goes somewhere worse.”

The guards went still, looking unsure for the first time since they had approached them. One of them shifted slightly, hand twitching near his own holster.

”Try me. I dare you,” Fuyuhiko said flatly, not blinking. “It’ll be the last thing you do.” His thumb clicked the safety off, getting it ready to shoot.

The Four Dark Devas of Destruction got on top of Gundham’s shoulders, chittering angrily and snarling at the men. Gundham raised an arm up and a nearby falcon landed on it, getting ready to attack if they were to take another step towards them.

Behind them, Hajime stared in stunned silence. He’d never seen Gundham and Fuyuhiko like this—utterly fearless, radiating raw, dangerous resolve. Like nothing in the world could touch them. Like they’d go to war over Hajime’s right to say no.

”…We’ll report this,” one of the guards finally said. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fuyuhiko muttered but he didn’t lower the gun. “Better run.”

”Just go away, you malevolent agents of misery, before I curse both you and your offsprings!” Gundham exclaimed theatrically. The hawk on his arm cawed loudly, finally startling the men and making them go away.

Once they were gone, Fuyuhiko pulled his gun into his pocket and Gundham let the falcon go with a few words of gratitude. They then turned towards Hajime, who was still pretty freaked out from what had just happened.

“If you ever see those creeps near you, you can come to us for help.” Fuyuhiko crossed his arms as he spoke. “Peko and I are pretty good at keeping bastards like those guys away. You okay?”

”Yeah, yeah… j-just give me a minute.” He said as he closed his eyes and rubbed his hair harshly. A sudden chirp made him open his eyes and he saw Cham-P and Maga-Z looking at him from Gundham’s shoulder. Without any warning, Maga-Z jumped, reaching Hajime’s shoulders and he quickly raised one of his hands to help support the small rodent. The hamster settled in Hajime’s hand and nuzzled his head against Hajime’s thumb, making him smile as he started petting the little creature.

”Ah, it appears Maga-Z and Cham-P have sensed your inner turmoil.” Gundham said with a solemn look in his eyes. “Perhaps it would be best if we escorted you back to your chambers.”

Hajime let out a shaky sigh as he finally felt his heart starting to slow down. He pet the animal on his hand one more time and smiled, giving it back to Gundham.

”Yeah… that’d be appreciated. Thank you both.”

And so, they all started walking towards the Reserve Course dorms, keeping a careful eye out in case anyone tried to take Hajime away again. Not that they would be able to when having a Dark Lord and a Yakuza heir by his side.

[penny00dreadful]

Comeuppance - Part 2 - Complete

Part 1 AO3

Dustin scoffed in offence. “I’m smarter than you, you know.”

“I know,” Eddie said through only slightly gritted teeth, “but that doesn’t mean you’re a grown up. You're sure you have all the relevant information? You know everything there is to know and there's no way this could go wrong?” 

The little shit was gonna have to learn one way or the other that he couldn't keep sticking his nose in where it didn't belong.

Teenager or not it was going too far and Eddie had fucking enough of it. These kids had spent so long crash landing in government affairs and coming out unscathed, they seemed to think they were invincible. They seemed to think that consequences didn’t exist for them. 

They seemed to think consequences couldn’t exist for them.

Well.

Time for a fucking lesson, kiddos.

Dustin looked at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world. “Of course I do.”

“Alright.” Eddie nodded, turning back to his trailer and pulling himself back up onto the roof. “If you’re sure. Now scram. I gotta get back to my sunbathing.”

He watched them all grumble, somehow believing themselves the smartest kids alive but somehow missing the barely concealed beemer, hiding behind Eddie’s van.

“Those little fuckers are getting too big for their damn boots, I swear to god.” Eddie seethed, flopping back down next to Steve who had been trying to keep his laughs silent this whole time. 

“I think they just want what’s best.” Steve smiled over at him, brushing Eddie’s bangs out of his face while Eddie huffed.

“There’s a way to go about that and when the people in question have told them repeatedly to stop meddling, it no longer becomes wanting what’s best, it becomes wanting to be right.”

“They’re young.”

“Yes, they’re young but they’re not stupid. Or ignorant. They’re young but they’re not fucking toddlers who can’t understand why mommy and daddy aren’t living together anymore. And I refuse to continue to let them act like that. It’s borderline sociopathic.”

“Okay, I think that’s going a bit far-”

“Is it? Is it, Stevie? Really?” Eddie rolled his head to the side and plucked the joint from Steve’s mouth. “They don’t care about your feelings on this matter, nor do they care about Nancy’s. You heard them, they hadn’t even considered whether she even wanted you back. Like she was just some cardboard cutout in the shape of a woman who’d go wherever they lead. Have they even met her?”

He looked back up at the bright blue sky, a few dusty clouds drifting past and took a large inhale, holding it deep into his lungs, hoping it would help to chill him out, but it was doing nothing for him. 

“And they’re walking all over you and your feelings. What you might want wasn’t considered and it doesn’t sound like it’s going to be considered. I’m just fucking sick of seeing it. It’s not happening. Not anymore. Not on my watch.”

Eddie continued to huff and puff, quite literally, in the silence that came after, glaring at the passing clouds like this was all their fault. He just couldn't believe the audacity of these kids, acting like Steve or Nancy weren't even sentient, just pieces to be moved on a chessboard.

He was still sulking and rigid and probably steaming out of his ears when he felt a hand on the side of his face. His head was tugged to the side and then Steve’s mouth was on his in a kiss so gentle and chaste and sweet, in stark contrast to how firmly Steve was now gripping the back of his head to keep him close. Every inch of tension immediately melted from his body.

“You’re so good to me.”

“I-” Eddie could only breathe out, a little dazed. “I’m really not. It’s just basic decency, to be honest.”

“Okay, then you’re basically decent to me.”

“I try my best.”

“My knight in shining armour.”

“I’m never the knight.”

“Well you are now. And you are to me. Always have been.”

Eddie blinked at him, sure that Steve could feel the thudding of his heart through his neck. Given the way he was nuzzling his nose into Eddie’s pulse and brushing his lips against his skin with small little kitten licks, he probably could.

Steve moved up, hovering right over Eddie’s ear. “And how does my knight feel about getting his dick sucked?”

“Pretty- pretty good. Yeah, pretty good.” He stuttered out, breathy and oh so eager.

“Good. But you’re gonna have to get down off this roof first.”

Eddie's descent was far less controlled this time, he nearly fell on his ass in his mad scramble to get back inside and into his bedroom, Steve following slowly with a lazy grin on his face.

Both Steve and Eddie knew that they had to strike before Dustin was able to do anything and potentially fuck everything up. 

The first person they brought in was Robin, though that was less of a calculated move and more that she could tell just by looking at Steve that something was brewing. 

He and Steve were supposed to be waiting for Nancy’s arrival at the trailer before they breathed a word but Robin had barely taken a step inside before it was all out in the open. 

So now the three of them were waiting for Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle to turn up.

The six of them had a weekly standing date on Sunday evenings to chill the fuck out and while Eddie would have preferred to smoke the fuck up, Robin hated smoking of any kind.

And the smell stuck to everything. 

So instead they usually ate the fuck up.

Argyle had taken it upon himself to be the resident weed baker of the group and he, Nancy and Jonathan usually arrived together.

It was kind of hilarious how the kids had never considered that the older teens talked regularly and therefore, that Eddie could spill their secret plan.

He was pretty sure the kids thought they all just sat at home alone, twiddling their thumbs and waiting around for the kids to call them up for the next get together or when they needed a ride.

Like they didn't have their own lives, or their own connections. 

Like they needed the kids around to even see each other casually.

It wasn’t exactly like the six of them were the best of friends and Eddie’s trailer was definitely too small to host all of them, but they made it work. 

It was the best place to meet up. Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle each lived with one of the kids in the Party. The kids called around unannounced to Steve’s house all the damn time, which was another thing Eddie needed to talk to him about. And Robin’s parents would have inevitably ended up eating some of their brownies, whether they knew what was in them or not, Eddie couldn’t say. But he didn’t want to take the risk.

The trailer was still a risk. Max and Eddie’s trailers were close enough together that she could easily see them all coming and going and she had. 

Eddie knew she had.

She’d been outside feeding the neighbours dog once when they’d all arrived. 

The rest hadn’t noticed, but Eddie had seen her look directly at them.

He’d been on edge for days afterwards, expecting to be chewed out by Dustin or Mike or any of them for ever dare thinking that they could hang out without the kids, but the bitch-fest never came.

He’d sent her a questioning look when it became clear she hadn’t said anything and she’d just glared at him, like he was being stupid to even ask if she’d spilled the ‘secret’ that shouldn’t even have to be kept a secret.

Well, okay then.

Immediate respect and trust gained there.

By the time the other three were pulling up in front of the trailer, Robin was pissed the fuck off.

Turned out, last time Dustin had tried to shove her and Steve together she’d snapped at him, bitching him out for guiltless manipulation and she had thought she had gotten through to him, considering he didn’t try again.

But now it was obvious he had just set his sights elsewhere.

Eddie had opened his front door, gesturing Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle in with a wide sweep of his arm and a smile. Nancy had barely opened her mouth to greet all of them when Robin stopped her pacing and declared to the newcomers “I’m mad!”

Nancy closed her mouth and blinked. “Okay.” She said slowly. “Who are we mad at?”

“The children.” Robin answered with a twisted up face. “Little fucking gremlins.”

Jonathan sighed, pulling six plates down from their cupboard in the kitchen where he and Argyle were dividing out a Tupperware container of brownies.

“What did they do this time?”

“They’re meddling little fucking…” Robin stood in front of Eddie’s couch, blowing a raspberry through her lips, trying to find the right words. “Meddlers.”

“Very articulate there, Birdie.” Steve smirked.

“Don’t talk to me right now, Harrington.” She pointed at him. “I’m mad on your behalf.”

“Alright, alright.” Jon walked forward with two plates, handing one off to Steve and then Robin. “Why don’t we chill out first,” he said to her, gently, “and then you can give us all the details.”

“I think we’re gonna need to work out the details before we have any of these.” Eddie said, picking up his own plate with a delicious looking brownie complete with rainbow sprinkles and settling himself on the floor against Steve’s legs, who was up on the couch.

“We can pause the brownies for a few, my dudes.” Argyle smiled, dropping to the ground, right next to Eddie. “No rush, they’ll keep.”

Nancy folded herself down into the couch on one side of Steve where Robin threw herself down on the other side, nearly taking Eddie out with her knee and accidentally driving her elbow into Steve’s side.

“I did nothing to you!” He squawked, jabbing her back.

“When do you not do something to me?” She retaliated, reaching for his hair. Steve grabbed her by the wrist and Eddie knew if he didn’t put a stop to this now, they’d never get back on track.

Between the four of them, Eddie, Nancy, Jon and Argyle had all learned the only way to break up a squabbling match between Steve and Robin was to make a sudden loud noise and the two of them would startle like cats.

At one point each of them had attempted to get in the middle instead but that only led to them getting caught in the crossfire.

He put two fingers in his mouth, pushing his tongue back and whistling so loud it set off the Murphy family’s dog outside.

Steve and Robin jumped back as if they’d been shocked but Eddie didn’t give them a chance to protest.

“Back to your original question, Jonathan.” Eddie continued on, even though he felt a short petulant little tug at one of his curls. He was pretty sure it was Steve pouting, but it could have been Robin as well, he didn’t know. He was already turned away. “They are attempting to set Steve up with someone. Again.”

Jonathan and Nancy practically rolled their eyes into the back of their heads. They’d heard it all before, they’d been there for the rants even before Eddie had joined the group. Argyle just smiled, looking between Eddie and Steve.

“That seems unnecessary. Unless you two are looking for a third to which I say more power to you, broskies. But should you be involving a child?”

“We’re not looking for a third, Argyle.” Steve’s hands were idly playing with Eddie’s hair. “The kids don’t know we’re together, remember? The children are involving themselves.”

Eddie nodded, leaning back a little against the grip and trying to get Steve to start scratching him.

“So tell the little dude you’re happy being single.”

“Tried that. Didn’t work. Henderson is convinced that everyone needs to be paired off to be happy. And there’s no convincing him otherwise once he thinks he’s right.”

“Who’s he trying to set you up with?” Nancy asked, turning to Steve.

“You, actually.”

Her eyebrows disappeared underneath her bangs. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “Exactly. Says we’re perfect for each other.”

Nancy scoffed. “In what universe?”

Steve shrugged. 

“We tried that already and it didn’t work out. How is Dustin hypothesising that it will work out this time around?”

Eddie turned, throwing his arm across Steve’s thigh to lean on. “I think he’s been a bit mind melted by movies and tv shows. And I think Mrs. H reads those romance novels. I mean, the two of you are the stereotypical couple and it always works out for them, so why couldn’t it for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know?” Nancy scowled, throwing a hand up in exasperation. “Maybe because I’ve blown up the two romantic relationships I’ve had with people in this room? Because I haven’t been able to be soft since 1983? Because I don’t know who I am outside of monster hunting anymore and being single and fucking off to college is the best way to find that out?”

“And because of this one.” Steve put in, giving Eddie a light tap on the head that he frowned at.

“And because of that one.” Nancy conceded, tapping him on the head as well.

“Okay, so what are we doing about it?” Jonathan asked from Argyle’s side.

Eddie sat up a little straighter. “I have a plan.”

Steve tugged on a lock of Eddie’s hair again. “He has a plan.”

“Well, okay then." Nancy's face told him she was already taking minutes in her head. "Fill us in.”

“Telling the kids to stop isn’t working. Hasn’t been working. So we’re gonna make them stop. Act like we don’t know this is going on behind our backs. Frustrate the shit out of him when it doesn’t work and when he starts to escalate, which we know he will, then we strike. Because we don’t know exactly what he has planned yet, we can’t make any solid plans ourselves. We need to be malleable. We need to be able to change tactics for whatever they come up with.”

“So for now, what? You want us to just go along with it whenever he…” Nancy cast her eyes around, trying to think. “Whenever he locks us into a closet or something?”

“For now, yeah.” Eddie nodded. “You don’t have to act like it’s working, just pretend you don’t know what’s going on. Stay friends. It’ll piss him the fuck off. And when he starts to get more dramatic about it, then we do too.”

“And how will we find out he’s getting more drastic?”

Eddie grinned, holding up the walkie talkie. “They’re very smart kids, but they’re not very clever. They seem to think they’re the only ones who know how to use these. They conspire all the time on them.”

Steve nodded. “They switch stations.”

“They switch between the same two stations and always announce it before they do because they want to stick to ‘proper protocol.’”

“Okay but here's the thing…” Steve dug his fingers into Eddie’s hair and Eddie could tell it was a need for touch, a self soothing motion that had driven it, so he tipped his head to the side, resting his cheek on Steve’s knee and giving him more access. He could feel Steve winding his curls around his fingers, almost nervous. “I think one last opportunity for them to back off wouldn’t go amiss. Just before we start fucking with them. It would make me feel better.”

Eddie exhaled, his body slumping back into Steve’s grip. He’d love to say no. He’d love to tell Steve that there was no fucking need. The kids had opportunity after opportunity to stop. They’d been told so many times that this was none of their business and to stop sticking their nose where it didn’t belong.

But he could never say no to Steve. If it was something that would make Steve more comfortable with the whole thing, Eddie would give it to him.

“Okay. One last chance for them to back off.” He conceded. “But when they don’t listen, then we move forward.”

“You know what helps with brainstorming, my friends?” Argyle lifted his plate into the air with a giant smile on his face. “Brownies.”

Eddie was pretty sure brownies and Little Shop of Horrors wouldn’t be the big help Argyle thought it would be but he was a little too wound up at the moment and needed to relax. 

“Okay,” Eddie nodded. “Brownies. Little Shop of Horrors. Scheming.” He picked his own brownie up and took a giant bite.

Under different circumstances, trying to purposefully destroy the plans of a fifteen year old and make sure they failed would feel downright scummy. But under these circumstances it was kinda satisfying.

Dustin had decided to fuck with Eddie’s man again. After repeatedly being told to stop. So the kid dug his own grave, really. He’d been given plenty of chances. Steve had tried his best to convince the kid he was happy where he was in life and if the little defeated slump to Steve’s shoulders was anything to go by, it hadn’t worked.

So if the kid wanted to fuck with his man, he’d get fucked with in return.

Plus it wasn’t like Dustin couldn’t have figured out what the two of them were by now. They’d slipped up a few times and the kid had nearly walked in on them once or twice.

But watching Dustin get more and more irritated when Steve and Nancy only continued to be friendly together was ridiculously enjoyable. Especially as he watched Dustin practically force them together, no matter the clear signals the two were giving off that they didn’t exactly want to be stuck together, away from everyone else in the cinema.

Eddie sat next to Dustin with popcorn on his lap, giggling away as he watched Steve a few rows down, shift uncomfortably in his seat.

They’d seen this movie already. Gone on a date here only last week and Steve had told him after that he couldn’t remember a single thing about it, forever only being able to associate this movie with the feeling of Eddie’s mouth on him in the back of the dark and empty room. 

Now he practically snorted out loud, earning a glare from Dustin. He retaliated by firing another piece of popcorn at Dustin’s head and  continued to watch Steve uncross and cross his legs again while Nancy gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“He told me ‘alcohol is a social lubricant, it shouldn’t be that hard.’” Eddie repeated, raising his voice over the din at The Hideout and making air quotes with his fingers.

Steve nodded, not really paying attention to what Eddie was saying apart from staring at his lips like he couldn’t wait to devour them, but that was to be expected.

Eddie had just come off stage after fingering and thrusting and grinding into his guitar for a full hour, Steve’s eyes glued to him the entire time while Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle and Robin all chatted amongst themselves. The four of them all knew that trying to draw Steve’s attention away when his boyfriend was playing on stage was a lost cause.

Usually Eddie and Steve hung around for a polite amount of time afterward but it was never that long. Nothing got Steve more horned up than Eddie performing on stage and if they didn’t want a quick and dirty in the bathroom or the back of Eddie’s van then they needed to get back to a bed before Steve snapped and tackled him wherever they happened to be.

Road head had happened more than once when Steve’s patience was worn particularly thin. Not that Eddie was complaining. 

Eddie always made sure to park his van in the shadows of The Hideout, never quite sure when Steve would lose the run of himself and press him into the nearest surface, the two of them thriving off the risk.

Maybe the Upside Down had fucked with them a little more than they were willing to admit.

Eddie had Steve in his lap, exactly where he needed to be. The only place he ever needed to be. Sitting in the driver's seat of his van, Steve’s hands in his hair and his tongue in his mouth, digging so deep it was like he was trying to taste his stomach acid. His body was bouncing up and down in these tiny little movements, humping himself against Eddie’s body and using him like a pillow in between his legs to chase his own pleasure and god Eddie loved it.

He loved being used by Steve, just as much as he loved taking care of him, gently whispering to him as he cried out his own release, kissing away his tears or turning him into a hazy mess by keeping him on edge for as long as he could handle it.

He loved it. He loved him and if he was good right now, Steve would give him the orgasm of his life once they got home.

Which is why the two of them groaned in frustration, breaking their kiss with great heaving breaths when the walkie crackled from the passenger seat.

“Kas, this is Dart. We are still waiting on an update. Over.”

Eddie shook his head, trying to pull Steve’s lips back to his own. “Ignore him baby, ignore him.”

Steve shook his own head leaning back a little further. “We can’t ignore him, he’ll just keep going until he’s answered.”

Eddie slumped down in his seat, well aware his over exaggerated pout was probably a little on the ridiculous side.

Steve pouted with him, a little mocking, a little mean and he gave Eddie a kiss on the top of his nose.

“Hellooo? Kas?” Dustin sing-songed. “Kas. Earth to Kas. Oooover.”

“Answer the walkie. Tell him I was too busy watching you and I’ll bend you over the bathroom sink. Right in front of the mirror, just like you wanted.”

"You mean just like you wanted."

"Yeah." Steve leaned in, practically breathing over Eddie's lips as he growled out. "Just like I wanted."

All of the air left Eddie’s lungs in one fell swoop, one big whoosh, like he’d been punched (in a good way).

He kept eye contact with Steve, completely powerless to tear his gaze away as he fumbled blindly for the walkie and brought it closer to his face.

“Kas to Dart.” Eddie responded, swallowing, trying to get his breathing back in check, Steve’s gaze burning into his own. “Plan’s a bust. Sorry.” He paused for a second, almost forgetting what the kid was waiting for. “Over.”

The answer was immediate. “A bust?! How could it have been a bust?! Did you make them sit together? Over.”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded, still trapped in honey-brown eyes. “They sat together. Over.”

“Were they drinking? Did you make sure they were talking? Did you play, like, love songs like I told you to? Over.”

Well. 

If the way Steve had been looking at him as he played Grinder and Hell Bent For Leather, rolling his hips against his guitar and getting borderline indecent on stage was anything to go by… they were certainly a type of love song.

“Yep. Over.”

“Then what the fuck went wrong?! Over!”

Eddie shifted in his seat, trying to adjust so he was a tad more comfortable. It was a completely innocent movement, or it was supposed to be, but Steve’s eyes fluttered for just a second and his mouth pressed thin, trying to keep any noise from spilling out. 

Eddie’s lips slid up into a smirk and that was probably the reason he was so flippant with his next answers.

“Dunno, Dart. Maybe I was shredding too hard. Stevie boy couldn’t keep his eyes off me. Over.”

“Jesus Christ Kas, that’s the exact opposite of what we wanted! Over.”

“Yeah well, I gotta go. I think I can hear Stevie coming.”

He didn’t even bother to say ‘over’, but he could hear Dustin’s scream of indignation in the second before he switched the walkie off.

He tossed it into the back of the van before all but bodily throwing Steve into the passenger seat and turning the key in the engine.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie.” Steve muttered, adjusting himself until he was more comfortably sitting. “Give a guy some warning.”

“Sorry baby.” Eddie said, peeling out of the car park. “I’m needed in front of a bathroom mirror.”

“Eddie, we need you to flirt with Nancy.”

Okay.

Okay.

So not only was this kid trying to fuck with his man, now this kid was trying to manipulate his man by bringing in some competition? He was, in his own mind, trying to get Eddie to lead Nancy on? And Eddie was just supposed to be cool with that?

Because even if all of the older teens knew that Nancy wouldn’t believe a single flirtatious word that came out of Eddie’s mouth for multiple reasons, Dustin didn’t.

Dustin was willing to take the risk that Nancy might catch feelings or that Eddie might or that Steve could end up jealous and hurt or that neither Nancy or Eddie caught feelings and it was just awkward all around. Awkward and probably friendship destroying.

This was the fucking escalation he knew was coming.

No time for an older teens meeting now, Eddie would have to hope they’d just play along until he could implement as many DM skills into Dustin’s downfall as Steve would allow.

“Hey Nance.” Eddie greeted her, putting his back to Henderson and trying to ham it up as much as possible. Nancy was smart. She’d get that something was going on. “I'm glad you decided to come today. Don't know what I would've done if I had to go without seeing your pretty face for much longer."

He could feel the silence that descended over Steve and Robin but he didn’t dare turn, knowing Henderson’s eyes were tracking every micro movement. Though out of the corner of his eye he could see the amusement in Steve’s eyes as he watched his boyfriend attempt to fake-flirt with his ex-girlfriend.

Eddie grimaced a little at the bewildered look on Nancy’s face and he circled his index fingers around each other, silently telling her to go with it.

She gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Thank god for that.

“Just a pretty face?” She asked, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, of course not, Lady Wheeler. Everyone knows you’re more than just a pretty face.”

Nancy grabbed his arm, giving it a little squeeze almost as if to say well done.

“Dunno if I could say the same thing about you.”

Eddie pulled out one of his oldest flirting moves, clutching at his heart and stumbling back a few steps. “Oh! The Lady Wheeler has wounded me most grievously!”

Steve rolled his eyes so hard his whole head moved.

Eddie didn’t think Robin had blinked this whole time. Or closed her mouth.

“Oh, stop it, you.” Nancy swatted at his arm. “You’re still pretty.”

Eddie gave her a little pout. How sweet.

He could practically hear Dustin grinding his teeth behind him and he thought he could freak the kid out even more. Even if that meant breaking one of his own rules.

“Would you care to join us?” Eddie asked, sweeping his arm out towards the table where the rest of the Party who were all staring, fucking flabbergasted. 

“I’ve heard this arena of play isn’t unfamiliar to you.” He continued, lowering his voice and leaning in close to Nancy but still loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’ve even heard you used to get into costume for the kiddies. You into a bit of roleplay, Nancy?”

Steve gave Eddie a look, motioning him to dial it the fuck back. Which was definitely fair. If he had been anyone else other than Eddie at that moment Nancy would have probably kicked him in the nuts. And the glare that told him exactly that would happen if he didn’t slow down.

Steve had a little frown on his face and Eddie knew he’d be making it up to him tonight, at least until his jaw started to get really sore.

So he left her off with a wink that was directed at Steve more than her, seating himself behind his DM screen and trying not to smile at the looks all the kids were giving him.

“Did you have fun?” Steve asked him from the couch.

Eddie hung up the phone, having just spent the last twenty minutes talking to Nancy, listening to her attempt to gush about him to him, all the while making sure that Mike was in earshot.

“Mhm.” Eddie smiled, practically skipping over to Steve’s side and throwing himself down in his lap. “I’ve never been so flattered before in my life.”

Steve hummed, running his hands up Eddie’s thighs, bringing them around to tuck into his back pockets and pulling him forward until they were pressed together. “Do I not compliment you enough?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie shrugged, trying to keep his air of nonchalance as Steve began to nose up his neck. “Why don’t you remind me?”

“Why don’t you tell me what the competition is first?”

Eddie lifted his hips, just a little, to take the pressure off, to tease, even as he gripped at Steve’s shoulders and leaned back. He loved the feeling of Steve holding tight to him. Loved knowing that Steve would never let him fall, no matter how far back he went. Loved when Steve would pull him back down with an aggressive yank.

He leaned forward, coming to a stop just a hair's breadth away from Steve’s mouth.

“Operation White Picket Fence, sound off.”

Eddie slumped down in Steve’s hold.

“The timing on these fucking kids, I swear to god.”

“This is a Code Orange, I repeat this is a Code Orange. Over.”

Steve kissed his cheek with a smile. “You and Nance made that call knowing you were gonna get a reaction. What did you expect?”

Eddie shrugged. “I dunno. Ten more minutes?”

“You think we would’ve been done in ten minutes?” Steve asked with raised eyebrows.

“If we wanted to be.”

“Yeah, but did you want to be?”

“No.” Eddie sighed. “No, I didn’t want to be.”

“Okay, let’s switch to our backup channel just in case he checks in. Over.”

“See this is what I’m talking about.” Eddie reached over to grab the walkie, relishing in the feeling of Steve’s big hands keeping him steady. “These little shits think they’re the only people who could possibly be listening in. Think they’re the smartest fuckers in the world.” He turned the dial on the walkie, tuning into the kids super-secret backup channel. “This is practically how you all intercepted the Russians.”

"We'll tell Kas to stop. Maybe get him to start talking up Babysitter instead. Over."

"I don't want to see my s-Emerson get hurt over this, Bard. Besides, Kas is way better than Babysitter anyway. Over."

“Oh, now they’re worried about someone getting hurt? That’s rich.” Eddie scoffed.

“And Mike’s letting his crush on you slip again.”

“Uh, pretty sure his whole deal is because he has a crush on you, sweetheart.”

"But they're not meant to be! And Kas doesn’t even like her like that! Babysitter and Emerson are meant to be! We'll just have to regroup. Start pushing them harder or something. Over!"

“Is he fucking serious?” Eddie jumped up out of Steve’s lap and stormed over to the phone. “Fine, if the kid wants another escalation, I’ll show him a fucking escalation.”

He snatched the phone off the wall, punching in the Henderson home number. It only took a few rings before it was picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Henderson. It’s Eddie-”

“Oh hello, Eddie dear. How are you?”

Steve left the walkie on the couch, where they could still hear it in the background and made his way towards Eddie, leaning on the wall next to him.

Eddie tipped the phone away from his ear, holding it between the two of them so they both could hear.

“I’m doing just dandy, Mrs. H. Thanks for asking. Hey, is Dustin in? I gotta talk to him about some campaign notes.”

“Let me go grab him for you, he’s just in his room.”

“Thanks.”

Eddie listened as the phone was gently set down and watched Steve watch him, quirking his eyebrow in question, asking what’s the plan?

Eddie just shook his head and rolled his eyes, telling Steve without saying it out loud that he was fucking done with this shit.

“Hello?” Dustin’s voice was already half accusatory

Eddie smiled, ready to put on a whole body performance and maybe trying to piss the kid off, just a little. “Hey Dusty-Buns.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“But it’s so fun!” Eddie was already waving his hands around. “Listen, I need to talk to you about this whole Nancy and Steve thing-”

“Good, because I need to talk to you about it too. You gotta dial it back, man.”

Eddie paused, even going so far as to put a confused look on his face. “What do you mean?”

“You’re getting in too deep with her, you’re starting to pull her attention away from Steve and that was not a part of the plan.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, chewing his lip. “I’m not sure if I can really do that…”

“Wha- why? Why, Eddie, why?!”

“I dunno, man.” Eddie shrugged, taking Steve’s hand in his and meeting his eyes. “I kinda like her.”

“No! Nonononono! You can’t like her! You’re not allowed to like her, why do you like her?!”

Not allowed?

Not allowed?

Who the fuck did this kid think he was?

“What do you mean I’m not allowed?” Eddie glared down at the phone. “And as for why, have you met her? You used to have a crush on her!”

“Yeah, when I was a child, you can’t be serious about this, Eddie.”

“I’m super serious about this, Dustin.” Eddie spat back, giving Steve’s hand a little squeeze. “I like her. I want to ask her out.”

“Jesus Christ this was not part of the plan!”

“And I didn’t want to be a part of the plan from the start!” Eddie decided to remind him because apparently the kid had forgotten. “You forced me into it! I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“It will work. It still can work! We're still doing this whether you like it or not. I’ll see you at Steve’s tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime!”

“Dust-!”

Eddie stared open mouthed at the phone, the sound of Dustin slamming it back down ringing through the kitchen.

“That little fucking-” he took the neck of the phone in both hands, squeezing and shaking it, “-demogorgon!”

Steve pried the receiver from his hands, placing it gently back in its cradle.

“Guys. Things just got so much worse. We need to come up with a new plan before tomorrow.”

“So,” Steve drew the word out with a hand at Eddie’s back, “clearly he’s not getting the message.” 

Eddie sighed, resting his elbow on Steve’s shoulder and rubbing his eyes. “No, he’s not getting the message.”

“Well,” Steve nodded, picking the phone back up and beginning to dial. “It seems it’s time for the final act, then.”

Robin was pacing up and down in front of Steve’s couch.

“I’m nervous!” She said, grabbing at her hair.

“Why are you nervous?” Eddie asked, tracking her with his eyes from his position across the room. Nancy was sitting beside him, barely checked in, using any spare time she had to go over her flash cards for college, even though she didn’t start for another couple of weeks. They’d asked her if she wanted to put a stop to this, give her the freedom to stress just about college, rather than college and this but she’d just glared at all of them.

“You don’t even have to do anything.” Eddie continued.

“Yeah, but I have to be here. I don’t have the acting chops for this.” She pointed at him. “You know that. You remember what happened in Much Ado.”

“That wasn’t that bad.”

“I knocked over the wall during your gulling! You were supposed to be eavesdropping while badly hidden and then boom!” She smacked her hands together. “The garden hedges suddenly collapsed because I tripped over my own feet!”

“Oh, it was fine.” Eddie waved his hand. “No one noticed.”

“Everyone noticed! And it was fine because you played it off! I wasn’t even supposed to be on stage!”

“Birdie.” Steve grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her towards the couch, pushing her down. “You’re going to be fine because you’re going to sit there and say nothing.”

Robin huffed. “It’s impossible for me to say nothing, you know that.”

“I know, that’s why I got you this.” He plucked a lollipop from the coffee table, handing it to her. “When you hear them coming, stick that in your mouth. If you start to talk it’ll remind you to not talk. Just concentrate on that.”

She stared at the lollipop then looked back at Steve. “You’re giving me a pacifier.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You know, there’s something to be said here about a man telling a woman to sit down and shut up. I’m only giving you a pass because it’s you.” She scowled, even as she took a seat.

“Wow, thanks Rob.” Steve rolled his eyes and patted her head. “Now you just sit there and look pretty.”

She fired the lollipop at him and he caught it with a raised arm, barely even trying and Eddie wanted to climb him like a tree.

Steve threw it back and even though it landed gently in her lap, she still attempted to catch it with flailing limbs like she was trying to deflect an arrow.

"Look alive." Nancy tucked her flash cards back into her purse and glanced out the window. “Here they come.”

The kids were cycling down the road towards Steve’s house, bickering amongst themselves, slowly getting closer.

“Come on then, my sweet little sugar muffin.” Eddie said, throwing his arm over Nancy’s shoulders as she stood. “We’ll put on a performance worthy of Shakespeare.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Eddie frowned. “My spicy pepper?”

“No.”

“My little prickly pear?”

“Gun or a blunt object, take your pick.”

“Alright,” Eddie held his hands up, keeping an arm around Nancy’s neck while Robin unwrapped her lollipop and stuck it in her mouth. “I hear you, loud and clear.”

“So how do you want to start-?” Steve began to say but was cut off as everyone in the room jumped when Eddie decided to project as loudly as he could.

“We have come to inform our friends of our torrid love affair!”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Really? Really?” He asked, raising his own voice. “That’s how you’re gonna start?”

While they weren’t arguing, it would certainly sound like it from outside.

“We cannot help it! Our passions have simply taken over us!”

Steve sighed, hands on his hips. “Okay, fine.” He muttered before getting loud again. “I can’t believe you would do this to me!”

Just in time too as the kids slammed through the front door, barging in like they owned the place.

Well shit, Eddie thought. Time for a show.

"Steve, please! I thought you'd be happy for me!" Eddie shouted back, waving his free arm around. Honestly, he’d given better performances than this and Steve was trying his best.

"Happy for you? How could I be happy for you when you're stealing Nancy away from me!"

Nancy glared at Steve from Eddie’s side and the grimace he gave in return said sorry.

“I’m sorry Steve but-”

“You’re supposed to be my friend Eddie!” 

Friend. That still ticked him. Friends didn’t have other friends tongues up their-

Nope. Stop. This was serious business. Could he not go five minutes with Steve in the same room without getting stupid horny over him?

“I am your friend! But you can’t expect me to ignore the pull of true love!”

“True love?” Nancy asked. Like she was saying Really? You’re going that far?

And well… Eddie never really knew when to stop pushing, did he?

“That’s right. True love, shnookums, my precious little rainbow cupcake.” When Eddie booped her on the nose, she dug her nails into his side hard and he had to put all his effort into not reacting.

Dustin was staring around at them like they’d all set his fucking house on fire or something.

“This is a complete betrayal! I don’t know if I can ever look at you the same way again, either of you! In fact, I don’t think I can look at you anymore at all!” 

Steve had to turn to face Robin to hide his grin from the kids and Robin just chewed on her lollipop, trying not to react.

“I don’t think there’s anything more I can say to you two. I never want to speak to you again! I never want to see you again!” Steve cried, hamming up the drama in a way Eddie knew was adopted from his own mannerisms and Jesus Christ he was so in love. “Go on, run away together and leave me behind! I wash my hands of you two.”

Eddie sighed. “That’s too bad Steve, I’m sorry this is goodbye forever, never to see each other again, never to interact or even ask the kids about one another in passing. This is truly a terrible, irreparable breaking of the Fellowship, never to be fixed!”

Okay.

Maybe they’d gone overboard on the drama a tad, but who could blame them? 

Dustin certainly looked like he was taking it all seriously, wide eyed and open mouthed as he and Nancy turned to face him.

“Eddie.” Dustin whined. “What have you done?”

Excuse me, the fuck?

“What have I done? I did nothing but follow my heart, struck down by Cupid's arrow!” Eddie sent the full force of his glare at the kid. “What have you done, Dustin? You started this.”

“This wasn’t the plan, Eddie! This wasn’t the plan!”

And now Steve was coming over, interrogating Dustin and Dustin was fucking arguing back like he wasn’t the one in the wrong, looking between all of them with something like realisation on his face. 

"Wait."

He was staring between Steve, Eddie and Nancy, finally connecting the dots.

"Personally, I think I pulled off 'straight' rather well." 

Being into girls wasn’t the issue, being exclusively into girls though? Pretending he wasn’t undressing Steve with his eyes every time he looked at him? 

That had been the real challenge. 

Steve was pouring his heart out, trying to get Dustin to understand why everything he’d done was so fucked up, but the kid was just looking for an escape route.

“Eddie?”

Like hell.

“Don’t look at me, I am not on your side here, Henderson. I told you how this would end when you first approached me and you wouldn’t listen.”

“But you were bluffing! There’s no way you could have known he wouldn’t want this! You don’t know Steve that well.”

“What happened to 'you're a friend his own age', huh? You’re still assuming you know everything without a complete picture. There’s a glaring puzzle piece you’re missing out on because, and I’m sorry I have to say this, you don’t look at things objectively like a scientist should. You let your emotions run you and again refuse to see past the end of your own nose.”

And even then, even after all of that, Dustin still wanted to demand answers out of them.

“What could I possibly be missing?” He pouted, petulant and childish.

“Oh no, you don’t get to bully that information out of us." Eddie said. "If you were meant to know, then you’d know. But you don’t get to decide what secrets people do or don’t tell you. Part of being a grown up is understanding that.”

“But why… why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?”

“This. This is why, Dustin." Steve answered, running a hand through his hair. He was getting more and more stressed by the second. While he spoke, his shoulders were becoming tenser, his face was becoming harder and Eddie knew that he was going to need a little while to recover after this. He’d be so emotionally drained and all Eddie wanted to do was scoop him up and take him away from everything, from all this.

Let him live his life outside the kids, outside Hawkins, be young again. Be carefree. 

Even after all this, explaining to Dustin why this was so fucked up, he was still trying to deflect. Bring in the other kids in a hope his consequences would be lessened.

Fat chance.

Then he had to go and make that one last comment.

“So that’s it? You’re happy being single? Really?” 

Eddie wasn’t even really feeling angry anymore. Just so incredibly disappointed. He put a steadying hand on the small of Steve’s back, out of sight and Robin’s hand came to join his not long after when Steve said “You still don’t get it.”

Dustin tried to defend himself one last time, but they were all done with him. At least for now.

While Nancy corralled the kids back outside Robin lifted her head, speaking to the two of them, the only two left in the house. 

“So that went…”

“As well as we could have hoped?” Eddie asked, taking Steve’s hand in his. 

Steve just shrugged, turning away from the two of them in the empty echoey house and silently making his way upstairs and Eddie felt his heart crack.

Steve loved those kids, so for something like this to happen, such a big fallout… it must be killing him.

And he was probably blaming himself for everything. 

“What do you think?” He asked Robin. “Give him a few minutes or wait for him to come down?”

“We’ll give him a few minutes. I’ll go up to him then.”

Eddie nodded, watching the top of the stairs like Steve was still visible, standing there. “I think I might take him away. Just for the weekend or something. Take him to Indy. Have some fun.”

“And show him that he could get away from all of this, permanently, if he wanted to?”

“Maybe.” He finally managed to tear his eyes away from the stairs and back to Robin. “You’re coming, if it ever does happen. We’ve got a spot on the floor of the van with your name on it.”

“Wow, thanks.” Robin rolled her eyes. “What if I fuck off to college?”

“We’ll fuck off to college with you.”

Robin tried to bite down on a smile, punching him in the arm as she passed.

“What a fucking sap.” She muttered, disappearing upstairs while Eddie went to the phone, ready to order his weight in pizzas.

In the following weeks, Eddie got to watch as Steve slowly began to open up to the idea that maybe he didn’t need to be one of those who was born, lived and died in this shithole of a town. 

The kids, though they had leaned on him an awful lot, mostly whenever he could do them favours, were starting to come to terms with the fact that they had legs.

Steve had refused every single request for a ride. He privately let Eddie know that of course he’d go out for them if it was an emergency but it never was. 

This was a small town and they had bikes.

They should never have been able to get away with those demands in the first place.

The first time it happened, they couldn’t believe it. They almost believed Steve had gotten into an accident rather than follow through on his refusal to come get them.

Which led to anger.

Which led to Steve freezing them out for a solid two weeks. Not talking to them. Not interacting with them at all.

Until they learned he was a human with his own feelings and not a robot they could all walk over.

They’d been getting around on their own before they met Steve and they’d be getting around on their own after. 

It didn’t take long after that for them to come back with their tails tucked between their legs.

Eddie had been having the time of his life, spoiling the shit out of his boy, taking him out to the city every chance he got and sometimes even further.

Just adventuring in the van as far as they could conceivably go before Steve had to be back at work and Eddie had to be back so Wayne didn’t lose his damn mind.

They’d gotten the travel bug and they refused to share about their adventures with the kids, no matter how much they bugged them for it.

Dustin was incredibly subdued.

It got better as time went on but it wasn’t until nearly a month later that Steve, cuddled up on Eddie’s couch, revealed that Dustin had called over earlier that day out of nowhere with a long handwritten letter that he’d been working on for a while.

The kid had read it aloud to him, having to pause multiple times to calm his tears so he could continue, but he got through it.

Steve hadn’t even bothered to hide his own tears from the kid.

It was slow going, but they were healing.

Steve had sworn that the contents of the letter were between the two of them and he’d never break that promise.

Dustin had stayed the night and things were getting better.

Eddie snuggled down, pulling Steve in tighter to his chest and couldn’t help but smile. The kids were learning to be more independent from Steve, no longer using him as a glorified taxi. 

Steve was learning to love himself more, not allowing himself to be walked all over.

And they were planning.

Planning for a future. Their future.

Away from the soul sucking presence of Hawkins and everything it had taken from them. 

Eddie couldn’t wait.

Part 1 AO3

@augustjustice @estrellami-1 @starman-jpg @hallucinatedjosten @pizazzmcjazz @hallo-spaceb0y @goodolefashionedloverboi

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

[ms-rampage]

Blades & Ballots - Chapter 8

Characters: Jacob Frye. Katherine Winchester (OC).

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Attempted kidnapping. Some slight derogatory insults. Another flashback chapter. Fight club Jacob

Previous chapters: [Chapter 7]

Flash back to 5 years earlier, when Jacob and Katherine had begun their relationship. One of their dates was Jacob taking her to a fight club to watch him. This was the first time he had taken her to one of these.

He'd invited her out to one of the underground fights that he always went to, and god, he was already loving the night just for the fact that she said yes. He'd been so nervous to ask her, thinking she'd think it was too brutal for her, but to his relief, she'd said yes almost instantly. And hell, seeing her sitting there, watching him fight, watching her get that look of intense focus on her face, it was making him love her more than he already did.

She's a lady of high class and of high society. She normally would view this as barbaric, brutal, and too violent. She felt out of place.

He could tell she was out of her element, that this was a completely different atmosphere from the high society she was used to. He knew she'd usually find it barbaric and violent, but that's not what he was focused on. He was focused on the way her eyes tracked his every move, on the expression on her face as she watched him. He could almost see the thoughts going through her head as she watched the fight, and it made something in his damn chest swell.

She sat there in the crowd, in some dumpy old pit somewhere in Whitechapel borough.

She was nervous, being there, and for Jacob's wellbeing. Knowing she would have to patch him up if he got hurt.

He could tell that she was nervous, that she was worried. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she was watching the fight. And he knew damn well she was thinking about the fact that she'd probably have to patch him up if he got too hurt. And that realization made him both feel bad for making her worry, and love her even more for being so damn worried about him.

He was next up for his match. He usually goes about 4 rounds in the ring.

It was him against 3 other men.

She could see that in his expression, the determination and focus in his eyes. This was just another night for him, fighting and winning at the fight clubs he went to all the time. For her, though, it was the first time seeing him fight. And she'd been nervous enough about this already, and now the fact that he was fighting against three other men, it made her anxiety spike.

To her surprise, he managed to take all 3 of them, seeing his brute-like strength.

It was honestly a damn impressive sight, watching him take on all three of them and come out completely unscathed. By the time it was all over, he was standing in the center of the ring, not a single scratch on him, the other three men either unconscious or groaning and bruised on the ground. And the victory, the satisfaction and the accomplishment in his eyes as he looked over at her, god, it made her breath catch in her chest.

He went on to do 3 more rounds against 3-4 other men.

Making nearly £2500 at the end of it.

She watched him fight every single round, and every single time he came out completely unscathed. His strength and his skill, it impressed her like hell. And by the end, when he came out standing with a fat load of cash on him, it just made the respect and admiration she had for him grow even more. He made his way over to her, all sweaty and slightly breathless, but with a victorious look in his eyes. He stopped right in front of her, grinning.

Katherine had this weird, strange feeling in her stomach as if him fighting, with no shirt on was a turn-on for her. She couldn't even explain it.

He could see the way her eyes roamed over him, the way her gaze took in the sight of him shirtless and sweating right in front of her. And god, it made the victory and high of the night and the adrenaline from the fights just get bigger. He had noticed her gazes on him like that all night, had felt it, and it made that spark of satisfaction and damn ego in his chest grow. He smirked down at her.

“See somethin' ya like, princess?.” He teases her.

She snaps out of her trance, clearing her throat, "Are... are you alright?.” A low huff of laughter escapes his chest at her words and the way she clears her throat, the way she tries to hide the fact that she was clearly checking him out. He nods slightly.

“Not even a single scratch on me, sweetheart.” He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

The second his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to his side, the one arm he had around her hips holding her flush against him, a feeling of possessive, satisfied pride filled his chest. It was a possessive gesture, a clear sign that he's got his girl, and he's not letting her go. He spoke, his voice low and warm in her ear. “You've been staring at me all night, princess.”

She feels her cheeks flush, "Am I not allowed to?." She chuckles.

God, seeing that blush spread across her cheeks, hearing that chuckle from her, it makes that possessive feeling grow even more in his chest. When she asks if she's allowed to, it makes that goddamn ego and spark of male pride in his chest go a little more. He lets out his own low chuckle, his voice low to match, keeping her close to his side and holding her hip a little tighter.*

“Never said you weren't, princess. Just noticed you've been staring a lot.” He has her all worked up, and he knows it.

He can practically see the way she's getting all worked up and flustered, and god, it only makes that possessive part of him grow even stronger. He's got her all flustered and blushing, and she's pressed up against his side and right where he wants her. It's making the ego in his chest grow, and his voice stays low and almost teasing as he speaks next to her ear.

“Can't keep your eyes off me, can ya, princess?.”

She wraps one of her arms around him.

"You know it." She purrs, teasing him back.

Her words, her damn teasing, the sound of her purr, and the way her arm wraps around him. It all makes the possessiveness in his chest go even stronger, and his own smirk appears on his face. He keeps her pulled close against his side, keeping his own arm tight around her hips, not wanting to let her out of his grip for even a second.

Jacob chuckles, “You're a damn tease, you know that?.”

One of the other fighters who lost against him confronts him. "Oi! You fuckin' cheated." He would've been content to keep holding her flush against his side, the possessive pride in his chest still going strong. But then the guy calls out and confronts him, and suddenly, the mood changes. The guy is clearly angry, frustrated, and bitter over his loss, and he accuses him of cheating. Jacob glances over at him, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, come off it. Can't handle losing, huh?.”

"I'll come over there and knock your block off!." He yells.

He looks over at Katherine, "Hey sweetheart, why don't you come over here and be with a real man, and not some cheating wanker."

Katherine looks at the man in disgust.

The second the guy insults him and calls him a cheater, Jacob's patience instantly dwindles. But then, the guy turns his focus onto her, telling her to go be with "a real man", and it makes something in his chest flare. He instinctively tightens his grip on her hips, not wanting her to go anywhere near that idiot. “Hey, keep your damn eyes and mouth off my girl, dickhead.”

"What are you gonna do about it?." He threatens, then he goes back to eyeballing Katherine. "She looks like a screamer."

The way that guy is looking at her, checking her out and eyeing her up like a damn piece of meat, and the comment he makes about her. It's all making that possessiveness and anger in his chest flare, the idea of someone else looking at her like that and talking about her like that. His fingers tighten even more on her hip, the other hand clenching into a fist at his side.

“I'm gonna kick your arse, that's what I'm gonna do.”

"C'mon prince charming." He taunts Jacob, "I'll kick your ass and steal your girl! Or... maybe I'll have my fun with her and toss her ass into the Thames."

Every word that comes out of that guy's mouth makes the anger in Jacob's chest reach a new goddamn level. Because not only is this loser accusing him of cheating and insulting him, but now he's talking about wanting to touch Katherine and toss her into the damn Thames like she's just some sort of object?.

He can feel the possessive, protective part of him start to take over, practically roaring in his chest not to let this guy get anywhere near her. “You lay one damn hand on her, and I'll rip your arm off.”

Katherine tries to calm him down, "Ignore him."

She tries to pull him away, but the man keeps running his damn mouth. No matter how much she tries to pull him away, Jacob's whole damn body is tense and rigid. His eyes stay glued to the guy because there's no way in hell he's just going to ignore what he said, the way he's been looking at her. And hearing the guy keep talking, he's only getting more pissed. His words come out through gritted teeth.

“Can't exactly ignore him when he's running his damn mouth, princess.”

She cups his cheek, making him look at her. "C'mon, let's go home." She tells him.

"Come over here sweetheart and sit on my lap." The man taunts, "I'll make sure you're taken care of."

Katherine rolls her eyes, "Oh shut up, you goddamn pig!."

"Oh, she's a feisty one." He laughs, "It'll be fun breaking you in on my cock." That comment makes Jacob snap, lunges at him with a hard fist to the jaw.

Seeing the look on her face, seeing her pleading with him to ignore the guy and just go home, it almost makes him give in. But then the guy opens his damn mouth again, making that comment to her. And the image that pops into his head, the thought of her with that prick, of him putting his hands on her. It's all too much, and in that moment, he snaps.

He's lunging at the guy, and then his fist is colliding right with his jaw. A fight breaks out between Jacob and the man. Katherine is pushed around in the crowd of people as they try to intervene.

The fighting that breaks out is chaotic and intense, the two of them throwing punches and going at it. It puts the entire crowd into a frenzy. And in the midst of it, in all the chaos, Jacob completely loses sight of her. He can't see her in the crowd, and that realization makes his stomach drop.

He beat the guy to a bloody pulp, and he loses track of Katherine. He looks around frantically, searching for his girl.

Once the guy is bruised and bleeding and lying unconscious on the ground, Jacob's eyes scan the crowd, looking for any sign of her. But there's so many people, and all the chaos and the adrenaline in his chest from the fight. He can't see her anywhere, and the realization she's lost in the crowd only makes the panic in his chest worsen. “Goddammit, princess, where are you?.”

He hears a scream coming from outside the building. "Jacob! Help!."

The second he hears her scream, hears his name being called, his head jerks in the direction of the sound. And when he sees her outside, he's instantly moving. He's pushing through the crowd, practically racing out the door to get to her.

“Kat?!.” He runs outside, pushing his way through the crowd. He finds her getting dragged away by a couple of Blighters.

"Let go of me, you bastards!." She shouts. They both laugh, "She's a feisty one, ain't she?." one of them says. "Pin her down, I'll get her skirt off." the other says.

"No! Jacob!." She shouts, trying to fight them off.

He's sprinting forward as fast as he can, adrenaline making his pace faster than before. The sight of her being dragged away, struggling to fight them off, and hearing them talk about her like she's just a damn object to be used and toyed with. It's all making him see red in his damn vision. “Get your damn hands off her!.”

One of them loosens his grip on her, startled by Jacob's sudden presence.

She reaches for one of their knives, stabbing one of the Blighters in the throat, and he falls back. She does the same with the other, and he falls on top of her. This would be the first time she has killed someone.

Watching her stab with the knife, getting the upper hand for a second is making the panic in his chest lessen just a tiny bit, the hope of her getting away from them growing. But she's still pinned by one of the bastards, the man's body on top of her and trying to fight to overpower her.

She kicks the dead Blighter off of her. A few strains of blood on her dress,

Seeing that she's off him and free, he makes a beeline for her, wrapping an arm around her waist and bringing her flush against him. The relief in his chest at finding her safe, still here and alive, it's like a weight lifted. His hold on her is tight, and he's practically cradling her against him as he stares at her, taking in the sight of her and making sure she's unharmed.

She wraps her arms around him. Knowing he was worried that she might've gotten kidnapped or worse.

He can feel the way she wraps her arms around him, the way she hugs him back. And he's embracing her, hugging her tight against him, so damn grateful she's okay, that she wasn't taken or worse. He speaks, his voice low and tight. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?.”

She shakes her head, "I'm fine. No, they didn't."

Hearing that makes the relief course even deeper in his chest, the feeling of her in his arms making him almost not want to let go right now. He hugs her even closer, speaking up again, the words quiet and low. “Goddammit. I thought I lost you.”

They go to leave, he changes back into his usual assassin attire, and as they're leaving, the man that was making explicit comments to Katherine steps out of the building. His face was all bloody and bruised up, stumbling as he walked. She sees him, and looks up at Jacob, knowing he did that to him. He sees the man too, and he isn't at all sorry about the damage he did to the guy. If anything, he's satisfied. Seeing him bloodied and bruised makes him feel a little better. In fact, he even stands a little taller and pulls her closer, making a possessive gesture and holding her against him.*

They walk to their carriage. He keeps his arm wrapped around her, protectively guiding her to the carriage. Even when they reach it, he keeps her close to him, not wanting to let her go just yet. Once inside, he sits next to her, keeping her pressed close by the side of him, his arm still wrapped around her.

Later that night, they're fast asleep in their bed. Katherine wakes up to use the loo. Jacob is still asleep.

She does her business and goes back to the bedroom. She sees his hidden blade gauntlet on the nightstand. She looks back towards their bed, and he's still asleep. She grabs it and puts it on.

He is fast asleep, not noticing the fact that she got up to go to the bathroom, nor that she grabbed his gauntlet. With the quiet of the night, he remains asleep, still deep in undisturbed slumber, unaware of the fact that she's got it on.

She does the wrist flick movement, and the blade pops out. She does the same thing, and the blade goes back in.

The blade moves in and out, the familiar flicking sound in the otherwise silent room. Her eyes are on the gauntlet, fascinated, and she does it again, the blade flicking out and back, again and again, a small smile on her face.

She is distracted by the gauntlet, playing with it.

Jacob tosses in his sleep, "Mhm.. Kat." He mumbles in his sleep, his hand slides across the bed towards Katherine's side, he feels an empty spot, his eyes open.

"Katherine?." He mutters softly. He gets up, and immediately he hears the sound of the blade from his gauntlet. He walks towards the next room, and sees her playing with his gauntlet. She giggles softly to herself.

His eyes land on her, and he recognizes his gauntlet on her arm. He just stops in the doorway for a second, taking in the sight of her and the way she grins as she plays with the blade, and she doesn't even realize he's watching her.

She continues to play with his gauntlet. Not realizing he's standing behind her, watching her play his weapon. He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, watching her with a small, amused smirk on his face.

“Ya know, I don't think that gauntlet was meant to be used as a toy, princess.”

She is startled, she hides the gauntlet behind her back as she turns to face him. "I wasn't playing with anything." She says innocently.

He snorts and raises an eyebrow, his eyes flickering to the gauntlet hiding behind her back.

“Don't lie to me princess, I know exactly what you were doing with that gauntlet.

He pushes himself off the door frame and walks closer to her, eyes fixed on her.

Katherine chuckles nervously, "I wasn't doing anything with the gauntlet."

She tries to take it off while hiding it behind her back.

He keeps approaching her, his gaze still focused on her. His expression and the way he walks towards her is almost predatory, like he's closing in on his prey. He can tell she's nervous, and he knows exactly how to toy with her when she's that way.

“Oh, come on princess, lying to me is never a good idea.” He stops directly in front of her, close enough to feel her breath hit his face and to feel the slight tension in her body.

"No I'm not." She says innocently, still struggling to get it off.

She tries to distract him, kissing him on the lips, but he knows better than to fall for her distraction

"Princess, we both know that won't work."

She looks up at him with innocent eyes, all while trying to get the gauntlet off her arm.

He can't help but chuckle when she tries to distract him with a kiss. She's adorable, trying to get out of trouble and pretend she wasn't doing something she wasn't supposed to. And her damn innocent puppy dog eyes just make him want to laugh and tease her the more. His smirk becomes even more pronounced, amused by her stubbornness and her efforts to pretend.

“That old trick isn't goin' to work on me this time, princess. I know what you were doin'.”

He gently grabs her arm from behind her back. Seeing his gauntlet on her arm.

"Oh? How’d that get on my arm?." She asks innocently.

He can't help but laugh at her question and her attempt to act innocent. The fact that she's actually acting like it somehow magically ended up on her arm and that he somehow wouldn't notice it is too damn cute, and it makes him want to tease her more.

“Princess, you really think I'm going to buy that you just don't know how it got on your arm, huh? *He lightly taps her nose.”

Katherine gives him her innocent, sweet eyes. "I don't know how it got on my arm." She giggles.

Oh, he knows he shouldn't buy it, that he shouldn't be falling for this. But somehow, the way she looks at him, with those big, adorable, wide eyes and her sweet damn smile, it's making him want to cave. But, still, he has to be a little teasing.

“Princess, I'm not that gullible.” He chuckles, still holding her arm, his other hand going to touch her cheek.” He takes the gauntlet off her arm, tossing it on the nightstand.

He tosses the gauntlet onto the nightstand. He's still got a tight hold of her wrist, keeping her close as he leans down to her level, his voice low but still playful.

“Come on, princess. It was literally on your arm. You can't expect me to just buy your little "I don't know how that got there" act.”

"Well, maybe... just maybe... I wanted to try it on." She admits.

He hears the confession, and there's the hint of a pleased smirk on his face, his eyebrows raising. Hearing her admit it so quickly is satisfying, and it makes that possessive part of him swell in his chest.

“Oh really? And why's that, princess?.”

She shrugs, "Do I need one?." She bites her lip.

He shakes his head, a soft chuckle escaping his chest, and he steps even closer. The feeling of her, his little princess, standing right in front of him and trying to act innocent and stubborn, it's still too goddamn cute, and now she's biting her lip, his hand on her hip again, his fingers gripping her hip a little tighter, and he feels damn possessive, wanting her against his body, wanting to push her back onto the bed. “You don't. But I'd still like to hear one.”

"I... was curious.”

His smirk widens, and he pulls her even closer, their bodies almost pressed together now. His fingers dig into her hip, and he can feel how close she is to him. And her confession, it's feeding that possessive, masculine part of him even more, and he can't help but tease her just* *a little more. His voice is quiet and low, almost a growl.

“Curious, hm? Curious about what exactly, princess?.”

Katherine can feel his body tense up. Feeling his possessiveness grow more and more. God, she loves it when he gets like this. It's so arousing, especially when he calls her 'princess'. "Curious about how it works.”

He can see it on her, how much she likes it when he gets like this. How much her breathing increases and how the way she's pressed up against him tightens just a little, and he knows she loves it when he calls her "princess" and he leans down to get right next to her ear.

“Curious how it works, huh? *He runs his other hand down her side. His hold onto her hip tight and possessive.”

"Mhm, just curious.” she purrs.

He can feel the way her voice is quiet and almost soft, and god, she's still trying to stay innocent and stubborn, even when she's so clearly pressed up against him, her body close and practically in his grip. He chuckles softly, and he's getting even more turned on. He's got her right where he wants her, and she doesn't even realize it. His voice is low and teasing, the hand on her hip moving up her side. “Just curious, huh?.”

Katherine raises an eyebrow, and smirks "Why else would I try it on?."

He can see the smirk on her face and the way she raises and eyebrow, and he's got her right where he wants her, and the way she tries to act stubborn and sweet, but it's so damn cute. His hand moves to the back of her neck, and he leans in even closer, practically towering over her.

“And you didn't think to ask me before you tried it on?.”

"Well, you were asleep." She says this as if she wasn't asleep either.

He's right up in her personal space now, his hand on her neck and the other pressed against her back, holding her tight against him. And he snorts and lifts an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face. “Oh really? So you were awake this whole time?.”

"I woke up to use the loo, then I saw your gauntlet and I was curious, so i tried it on." She wraps her arms around his neck.

He feels her arms wrap around his neck, and he smirks, a possessive edge to the look on his face as she pulls herself a little closer, her body close to his. Hearing her explanation makes him chuckle, the sound low in his chest.

Jacob chuckles, “Well, I suppose that's a good excuse, princess.”

"It is... and I assume you're gonna have to punish me now?." She teases.

He can tell she's teasing, and the way she says it, all damn innocent and all while being completely against him, he has to let out another quiet chuckle. His hand runs up her back, pulling her close against him. And her question just makes his inner possessive even more. “Punish you, huh?.” He smirks “You want that?.”

"Well... I was touching something that wasn't mine, and I'm yours, and you're allowed to touch me." She says hoping he knows where she's going with this.

His smirk becomes even more pronounced, her words and the obvious meaning behind them feeding the possessive and possessive desire in his chest.

“You're mine, huh? Well, that's true, I do get to touch you. I get to touch whatever I want, don't I princess?.” She loves it when he gets this way. All possessive and protective. It's such a turn-on to her. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him back towards their bedroom, leading him towards the bed.