#anyway i think we're all gonna be doing a lot of escapism and other avoidant shit for a while after this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

superblysubpar · 1 month ago

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I'm so deeply late with my reblog of this, I literally had all these quotes pulled and I read it so long ago and I've been thinking about it every day, seriously. I read this next to my husband on a hammock in my favorite place in the world and he fell asleep and I smacked his chest at the end, and then gushed about several scenes.

The SD card?! That ending?!

Anyways. I love this. I love them. I love you 💛

The coffee was good. The coffee was really good. It could have been that it warmed the ache in his spine from scrunching on a sofa that wasn’t long enough for his legs, but Steve knew it was good because you waited expectantly for him to take a sip, eyes wide in wonder and curiosity.

“S’good,” he licked his lips.

For some reason, this turned my legs to jelly. Like, I don't know. I just love that we're excited for him to try it and he knows it and ahhhhhh!!! (that was me, screaming into my pillow)

“How do you do it?” Steve asked, regretting his word choice immediately when you turned to flash him a cocked eyebrow. “I mean, how do you know what to capture?”

You shrugged, snapped a few, glanced at the display on the back of your camera. “I don’t think it’s a conscious thing. If you hunt for something, you’ll never find it.”

HEY! EVERY TIME THIS STORY AND THIS READER AND/OR STEVE TALK ABOUT HER PHOTOGRAPHY I WEEP. I YEARN. I SHATTER AND THEN GET GLUED BACK TOGETHER WITH SOMETHING SHINY. I FEEL INCREDIBLY SEEN 😭

You were annoyed at whatever the view finder was showing you, and even that was cute.

Sunlight haloed around him, roses climbing the walls behind his head, out of focus. He looked comfortable. He looked hopeful. A soft smile was etched across his features, and he looked madly and irrevocably in love.

He’d followed you all day, through the cemetery and back through your neighborhood. You tugged on the passenger’s side door handle of his car until it was unlocked, and you’d given him street-by-street instructions on where to go.

I love her, us, me, idk you know what I mean 💛

Steve nodded. He could still feel the satisfying crunch of Eddie’s teeth before the lanky ass guitarist hit the ground. “I used to fight a lot. Daddy issues.”

This whole back story of why Steve's with Eddie, why he feels so guilty about us oh my gooooodddddddddd.

I'm gonna throw up.

He shrugged, scratched at the back of his head. “Not great. Big buildings and fire escapes.”

“There’s beauty in that.” You smiled, slipping the blinds open to peer through.

Me to you from all these photography moments god dammit amanda:

Steve: We’re at my apartment. Why didn’t you tell me how disgusting I am?

Robin: I do every time I’m there, dingus. When’s the last time you had a girl over?

Steve: Please don’t make me feel worse.

He nodded again, shoving his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation to tangle his fingers with yours. “She’s single if you’re looking.”

THIS WHOLE SCENE! HOW MESSY HE IS!! HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH ROBIN!!! OUR CONFUSION ON HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH ROBIN!!!! THEM! HIM! THIS!!!

THE SD CARD SCENE!!! THE INTERRUPTION FROM EDDIE!!!!!!

His best friend rounded to the other shelf, freckled face exposed when he removed the next book. He sighed and replaced it to cover her grin.

With a tug of his arm, she twirled him to face her. Sun poured in from a skylight, warm and yellow, illuminating the blue in Robin’s eyes. Steve wondered if you would capture a moment like this.

I just really really loved this scene and these descriptions and I love Robin's little well meaning meddling ass 💛

“And I thought telling myself it was casual every single day would keep me at arm’s length, but that’s not how emotions work. I can’t just stop how I feel or who I’m in love with or -” You went silent in your chair.

“And now I’m getting death threats and am terrified for my life, and Eddie Munson is in love with me, and I can’t even reciprocate even though he’s the most genuine, sweetest man I know because part of me is still holding out hope that you feel the same way about me as I do about you.” You hissed, glancing over his shoulder to ensure no one could eavesdrop on this onslaught of confessions.

THAT WHOLE ENDING. HE WAS SUPPOSED TO GIVE HER THE SD CARD BACK. KISS ME. I-

I CAN'T BREATHE RIGHT NOWWWWWWW

COME BACK AND FIX THIS AMANDA

Hell Hound • Part Two

After a few days spent protecting you, a promising lead is found. Steve is wracked with nightmares. You grow closer.

Pairing: bodyguard!Steve Harrington x photographer!Reader, rockstar!Eddie x Reader

Wordcount: 9,770

Warnings: unrequited love, slowburn, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, gore, weapons, fighting, death threats, stalker *This chapter also contains allusions of voyeurism, sex, drinking, recreational drug use, overdose, religious elements

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

---

Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Three [Coming soon]

Robin: Have you told her yet?

“I need to get out.” You said it, slinging your denim jacket over each arm.

Steve’s breath tasted of your toothpaste, and his hair smelled of your shampoo, and he would’ve gone with you over the border to Canada if you’d asked.

Instead, you carted him down several flights of stairs and the opposite direction of his car and the gallery and to a little park with a coffee kiosk on the corner. You ordered for him and boxed him out of paying, and you waited in silence, smiles playing on your faces.

“S’good,” he licked his lips.

Satisfied with his answer, you started off again.

Steve hurried to keep up. “Where’re we going?”

You smiled and didn’t respond, but slowed your pace to let him fall in step beside you.

Sunlight fell, dappled, through the trees as you walked, and birds chirped, and eventually, you passed through wrought iron gates. The sidewalk grew wider, and with it the distance between the two of you, still at a brisk walk.

“Let’s sit,” you nodded toward a stone bench nearby, and Steve followed you there.

You set your coffee on the bench beside you and began to dig through your leather bag for your camera and whatever size lens you’d deemed the perfect fit.

Steve peeled his gaze from the concentration etched into your forehead to glance around, curious of your subject. It wasn’t until then that he realized you’d pulled him into a cemetery. His jaw ached a little. “What uh… what’re we doing here?”

You shrugged, a sly smile curling peachy pink lips. You nodded behind him. “Saw those lattice roses last week, wanted to get them in softer lighting.”

Behind him, curling their way up stone and iron fencing, were peachy pink roses. A few had seen better days, petals gathering at the base of the wall, but more were reaching skyward, bloomed and beautiful and delicate.

“How do you do it?” Steve asked, regretting his word choice immediately when you turned to flash him a cocked eyebrow. “I mean, how do you know what to capture?”

You shrugged, snapped a few, glanced at the display on the back of your camera. “I don’t think it’s a conscious thing. If you hunt for something, you’ll never find it.”

Steve hummed, took another drink of coffee. He wondered what Robin’d say to that philosophy. Sounds like your love life, dingus. He rolled his eyes. “What about these roses?”

You tilted your head, snapped a few more, looked at the display again. “It’s a little about anticipation. I knew these roses would wilt. I knew a storm was coming in, and that usually batters them. Fresh flowers in a cemetery doesn’t tell a story.”

God, you really were perfect, weren’t you?

You were annoyed at whatever the view finder was showing you, and even that was cute.

You must have felt him watching because you glanced up and immediately pulled your camera in front of your face and started clicking away. “And what about you, Steve Harrington?” You smirked. “What is your story?”

Steve stiffened and dropped his other leg to the ground, sneakers grinding into dead leaves on the asphalt.

You laughed and swept his insecurities away. “Quit being weird,” you snorted. “Just talk to me.”

“About what?” He couldn’t help but smile, trying to ignore the gentle click, click, click of the shutter.

You looked at the view finder and seemed as displeased as you were with the roses. You took a few steps back and got down on one knee, shooting up at him.

Self-conscious, Steve crossed an arm over his chest.

“Stop it,” you scolded, eyes bright, smiling playing on your lips. “Tell me about your life outside of this.” You gestured vaguely to his person and snapped a few more shots.

You snickered at the frown he pulled.

“You know like, outside of being a bodyguard slash private investigator slash Tour Mom. Are you close with your family? Does your girlfriend miss having you around?”

Steve sunk a little further into the bench, letting a breath burst from puffed cheeks. He ran his thumb along the perforated ridge of his cup’s sleeve. “Uh no and no… um… no girlfriend.”

You looked up at him then with the same pity and sadness he felt in the depths of his person.

He tried to hide behind his drink, wishing there was something stronger in his cup.

“Oh my God, Steve, I’m so sorry. Eddie didn’t tell me. You and Robin broke up?”

He sputtered around the sting in his nostrils and wiped at coffee that splattered and stained his pants. “Robin isn’t… no. I mean, she’s drop dead gorgeous and like the second best person I know, but no.” He shook his head, frantically. The amount of women that left him because of his relationship with Robin was honestly astounding, but he never imagined he’d have to explain it to you.

You sucked your cheeks in to shut yourself up and squinted, trying to decipher his ramblings.

He blanched. “Robin’s gay.”

You blinked for a moment and then barked a laugh. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. You just… you and Eddie talk about her so much, I just figured…”

Steve nodded. He understood. “I get it, but nope. We’re just best friends.”

Your laughter slowed to something softer, and he could have sworn he felt something spark in your gaze, in the way your lashes fluttered.

You snapped another photo and seemed satisfied with what you found in the display. You turned the camera his direction to see.

Sunlight haloed around him, roses climbing the walls behind his head, out of focus. He looked comfortable. He looked hopeful. A soft small was etched across his features, and he looked madly and irrevocably in love.

“Blue’s your color.” You commented, detaching your lens and packing your things away.

—

Cheap hangers screeched against metal racks, and you pulled another blouse with 80s shoulder pads and held it up.

Steve made a face.

You conceded and replaced it on its rack and kept pushing.

You’d inquired about half-a-million things about his life, none of which he was happy to share, but all of which he’d share again if it meant seeing your face light up the way it did when he rolled his eyes.

You found a thrift store along the route and insisted you’d pick an outfit for him if he picked one for you, and he leisurely followed you down each aisle, turning down anything and everything made of satin and silk and printed in florals.

“I really shouldn’t let you peak,” you informed him finally, hand on your hip.

He opened his mouth to protest, but you waved him off.

“Women’s is over there.” You spouted your size. “Don’t make me look ugly.”

He couldn’t if he tried.

With a sigh, he turned to tackle the circular women’s racks. He wondered if he should pull something in your favorite color, or a color that complimented your eyes the same way the peachy pink lipstick did.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Eddie: How’s my girl doing?

My girl. Steve’s heart sunk. He glanced back up at you, arms already teeming with bright yellows and forest greens. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get lost in today, that he’d forgotten why he was here with you. It wasn’t because you’d asked, it was because he was being paid to keep an eye on you, to ensure your safety.

At that moment, a young man approached you. Steve stiffened and took a handful of strides closer to get a better look and a better listen.

“Is that a camera bag?” He asked. “Very cool.”

His earring jangled beneath a curly blonde mullet: a hipster type. He wore a white tank top and Levis, and his blue eyes darted between you and the clothing rack and back again.

Steve bristled.

“Okay,” the kid spoke again. “This is going to sound like… really weird, but I think I’m following you.”

You looked back up at him, wide-eyed and arms full, but managed a smile and a thank you. There was something else though. Steve saw the way you were looking at the guy, saw the way fear sparked in your features when the kid reached into his back pocket for something - his phone. Suddenly, frantically, you were looking around the store.

“On instagram? I just wanted to say I think your work is incredible.”

Steve was two steps ahead. He swung his arm around your shoulders and brought you in tight, pressing his lips to your temple. “Sorry, babe, the line to the bathroom was surprisingly long. What’d you find me? Oh, who’s this?”

You stiffened before sinking into him, gesturing to the stranger with his phone out. “Steve, he was just telling me he’s a fan of my work. Isn’t that great?”

Steve plastered on a grin and nodded. “She is incredible, isn’t she?”

The kid nodded and put his phone down, features pulled tight in an awkward smile. “Absolutely.”

“You have excellent taste,” Steve glanced down the kid’s body for any sign of a weapon. He extended a hand. “What’s your name, bro?”

You were frozen in your spot. Steve could feel your pulse against his side.

The guy eyed you warily before shaking your guard dog’s hand. “Billy Hargrove.”

“Good to meet you, Billy.”

Billy nodded, though now his expression had pulled into a frown, seemingly a bit miffed to have been interrupted. He straightened his shoulders and turned his focus solely on you. “I really just wanted to say congrats on the gallery opening.”

“Thank you,” your voice came out in a flush of air, and Steve released his hold on you, worried he was squeezing the air from your lungs.

“Good meeting you both, I guess,” Billy shot Steve a look. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

When he left, you deposited armfuls of clothing to the top of the nearest rack. It teetered under the weight.

Steve bent to catch your gaze, but your face was stoic.

You adjusted the strap of your camera bag and sighed. “Pizza? I’m starving.”

—

1 Voicemail

Steve, it’s Hop. Yeah, William Hargrove does have a couple of priors: B&E and a little GTA, but he was a minor. It’s a good lead. I’ve got Callahan heading down to ask him a few questions. Stay safe. Let me know if anything else happens. Stay sharp.

Steve sighed and reentered the small pizzeria.

The pizza lay steaming, untouched in front of you. You sat against a red brick wall, chewing on a thumbnail and scrolling through something on your phone.

As he approached, he could just make out the blurry mirror selfies of a douchebag in a backwards baseball cap. He had a skull tattoo on one bicep and had a difficult time keeping his tongue in his mouth.

Steve cleared his throat, and you locked your phone, screen going black. “Everything okay?”

He pulled out the seat across from you and made about shelving gooey pizza onto each of your plates.

You hummed, but your gaze remained far off, staring at something written in chalk on the menu over his shoulder.

He tugged a handful of napkins from the dispenser and placed one in his lap before passing another to you. Then, he lifted the drooping piece of pizza high enough to manage one scalding bite. Instantly, it torched the roof of his mouth, and his eyes watered in his swallow.

He supposed the pain was worth the uptick he found at the corners of your mouth.

“I was letting it cool,” you explained.

He nodded and chugged some iced soda until a burp pushed its way up his esophagus. He hid that behind a fist and pounded a little at the burn in his chest, but again, it was worth it to see your eyes sparkle like that.

“Don’t move,” you said, reaching into the bag beside you.

Steve froze, as instructed, fingers dangling greasy above his plate.

You camera covered your face, massive lens encroaching in his space in what he knew couldn’t be a flattering angle, but he felt himself melt when he heard your chuckle behind the viewfinder.

“Lemme see,” he said.

You cocked a brow, but flipped the camera to show him the image.

He had a string of cheese on his chin, which he scrambled to wipe off, and the image taken made it look like he had two floppy ears and a long, wagging tail. Frowning, he turned to find a golden retriever had been chalked to the wall directly behind him.

He snorted and wiped his hands on the napkin in his lap. “Glad I can amuse you.”

You nodded, putting your camera away. “Very much.”

A notification lit up your phone. The background was an image of the gallery bustling with people. Steve spotted himself in the foreground, arms crossed, head thrown back in laughter. He remembered speaking with the woman beside him about her kids’ art projects. One had brought home a macaroni necklace the cat ate.

Another notification dinged. Instagram.

Steve glanced up to see you stiffen in your chair. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, shrugged, plastered on a smile that didn’t meet your eyes. “Nothing. All good.” You dove in to your pizza.

Seeing you hadn’t managed to burn your own mouth, Steve ventured another go. He couldn’t taste much.

The two of you ate in silence, some catchy pop tune absorbing into the brick walls surrounding you both. Your phone continued to light up with notifications, and Steve felt his own buzz in his pocket a few times.

“So,” you said around a mouthful, “tell me something else about you, Steve.”

“Like what?” He wiped at his cheeks with a new napkin.

Before you could pose a question, the song changed overhead to one distinctly familiar. Heavy drums and masterful guitar playing filled the little pizzeria.

That killer smile spread across your features again, and your head began to bob along to the track. You pulled a pepperoni from your slice, stretching the cheese with it, and popped it between slick lips, licking your fingertips.

“How did you and Eddie meet?”

Steve licked his teeth clean and dished you both another slice. “At a party, through a mutual friend.”

You rolled your wrist for him to elaborate, taking another large bite.

He shrugged and peeled a rogue pepperoni from the tray. “We have this friend name Chrissy Cunningham.”

“The cam girl?” You dropped your pizza.

Steve warmed under your gaze, wishing he could read your mind. He wondered how much information to tell you, wondered what might spook you, wondered what Eddie had undoubtedly already let slip.

He cleared his throat and picked at some rogue cheese on the plate. “So, Chrissy invited me to this house party, and it was in his huge ass house way out in the suburbs, and there were all of these famous people there, like so many I couldn’t even process it. It felt like I was in my television, like MTV growing up.”

You smiled and nodded, taking a sip of your soda.

“And there was this asshole from Corroded Coffin coked out of his mind -” Steve stopped himself. He wasn’t sure if Eddie had told you about the Coke Years.

You cocked a brow, leaning forward, seemingly intrigued by this salacious story.

Steve swallowed his words and leaned a little on his elbows. “Anyway, we got in a fight.”

“Like a fist fight?” Your eyes went wide.

Steve nodded. He could still feel the satisfying crunch of Eddie’s teeth before the lanky ass guitarist hit the ground. “I used to fight a lot. Daddy issues.”

You laughed at that, a barked sound that sent his heart racing.

He smiled and shrugged. “Anyway, he got my number from Chrissy and called me the next day to tell me I was hired.”

“He didn’t ask?” You frowned.

Steve shrugged, picked up a new slice to take a bite. “Eddie Munson has a way of getting what he wants.”

You hummed and glanced down at your phone as another notification illuminated the screen.

“I sometimes think he’s just a curator of really great people,” Steve said, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smiled at that and took another slice of pizza from the tray. “He told me you saved his life.”

Steve could still smell the mix of sweat and cigarettes that clung to his clothes, could still feel the clammy cold skin of his friend’s cheeks, could still feel his fingers hit the back of the other boy’s throat.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

The bodyguard set down his pizza and wiped his hands on his napkin before answering.

“Hello?”

“Steve? It’s Powell. That Hargrove kid was acting shady so Callahan took him in. It’s looking good that he might be our guy, but just to be safe, is there anywhere you can take her tonight, just in case?”

Steve watched you watch him from across the table. “Yeah, yeah I could take her to mine.”

—

Steve hoped you hadn’t felt this vulnerable when unlocking your own door and pushing it open to let him in.

The moment he followed you over the threshold to his apartment, he second-guessed everything he owned.

The place was a wreck of pizza boxes piled near the front door. The whisky bottle Robin had bought him was next to an open, but dead laptop. He really had just up and abandoned everything when you called.

“This is it,” he introduced the space, feeling itchy under your scrutiny while you looked around.

His leather couch had a Joyce-crocheted blanket tossed over the back. He was grateful for the coffee table books gifted and stacked neatly where they belonged. Quickly, he crunched the open bag of chips left in the seam of the couch and stuffed it into an overflowing snack cabinet.

“I like it,” you nodded, taking a few steps forward to the window, gesturing for permission. “How’s your view?”

He shrugged, scratched at the back of his head. “Not great. Big buildings and fire escapes.”

“There’s beauty in that.” You smiled, slipping the blinds open to peer through.

Light spilled in, caressing your cheekbones and shining through your hair.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

If Robin were here, she’d kick him.

You hummed, satisfied by what you found, and turned to face him. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

His bathroom was worse than he thought. He scrambled to scoop dried toothpaste from the sink and re-roll toilet paper that had gone rogue. Not one, but three sets of boxer-briefs were discarded on a navy blue rug. Thank God Robin had reminded him to scrub the toilet before she came to visit.

“Smells like you in here,” you mumbled from the hallway as you swapped spaces.

Steve warmed.

“Your aftershave,” you said with mischief in your eyes. “Give me a minute?”

Bumbling like an idiot, he gave you space and wandered down the hall to him room, once again scrambling to pick up piles of clothes.

Steve: We’re at my apartment. Why didn’t you tell me how disgusting I am?

Robin: I do every time I’m there, dingus. When’s the last time you had a girl over?

Steve: Please don’t make me feel worse.

Dirty dishes went from the nightstand to the sink, and he made about loading his little dishwasher. The kitchen was easy to tidy in piles. Luckily the garbage didn’t smell too bad.

After a long, quiet while, he glanced up from his phone to find the bathroom open and abandoned. Dim light splashed into the hall from his room. With a frown, he toed down the hall to find you admiring photos pinned to a cork board above his dresser.

“Can I help you?”

You shrugged and smiled. “I showed you mine.”

He wondered if you found his bedroom to suit him as much as yours had suited you. He glanced around at a plaid duvet, lightweight curtains, the baseball bat he kept at his bedside.

“Is this Robin?” You tapped your fingertips to a polaroid of him and his best friend, faces squished in smiles.

He nodded.

“She’s pretty.”

He nodded again, shoving his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation to tangle his fingers with yours. “She’s single if you’re looking.”

“I just might be,” you shot him a sly look.

Steve warmed at the idea, a challenge stirring under his ribs.

“What’s on this?” Your hand found the SD card. “Top secret files? Blackmail?”

Heart racing now, he shrugged. “You tell me. It’s yours.”

You frowned back at him.

Cat’s out of the bag now. “You gave it to me at the hometown after party.”

You played with the tiny card in your hand for a moment. “You were supposed to give it back.”

Steve’s mouth went dry, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I must have pulled it out of my pocket and forgot it was there.”

You shook your head and looked up at him. “No, at the party. You were supposed to come find me at some point. Did I… was it not obvious?”

His pulse thundered in his head.

You just blinked back at him, expressionless like you hadn’t just confirmed everything he’d been doubting for months now.

His mouth just hung open like an idiot until he rubbed some feeling back into his face and willed himself closer

You continued to weigh the SD card in each of your hands, and he held his breath as you inched nearer. Your boots rested between his sneakers. “When you had me sign that NDA - “

Steve’s phone rang in his back pocket, a loud ringtone that came with the device that he hadn’t heard since he bought the thing. He must have accidentally taken it off silence when he was doing the dishes.

Cursing, he pulled it out to see an unknown number. He slid the answer button. “Hello?”

“Stevie? It’s Lizzie!” A familiar voice cooed from the other line, a little scattered, a little broken. “Where the hell are you?”

Steve stared back down at you, breath heavy in his chest. “I’m in Chicago. Where are you?”

“Backstage with this fucker who tells me he’s met the love of his life. Is that true? And if that’s the case, where are you? I need a good cock to sit on.” A hair-raising cackle preceded a shuffle.

He could feel your warmth now, smell the peppermint on your breath, the lavender in your hair.

“Harrington? It’s me, it’s Eddie. You there?”

In a flash, he saw his friend bent over a pile of vomit, strapped to a gurney, disappearing behind red and blue lights.

“I’m here.” Steve muttered.

“You got my girl, Stevie? Keeping her safe? Put her on.”

Wordlessly, Steve held the phone loft between you, putting it on speaker.

“Sugar, you there?”

You blinked back at him before glancing down at the device. “I’m here, Eds.”

“God, I miss you both. England isn’t the same without you. I’ve been telling everyone here about you, Sug. You’ve probably gotten a million offers today just from me bragging about you. I’m really proud of you, you know that right?”

“Thanks, Eds.” You breathed.

Steve pushed the phone into your hand and trailed his thumb down your wrist, catching goosebumps all the way to the crease of your elbow. He hated the sour taste that accompanied every word Munson said.

“Recorded a song about you today. I got very jealous hearing Simon sing about you.”

Steve let his hand fall to his side before he gestured back down the hallway and let you have your privacy. His hand tingled, and he flexed it in a vain attempt to shake away your touch.

—

Hopper: Got him, kid. Great job. Tell the girl she can rest easy.

—

You were all-encompassing, everything above and around him, a tight pull that had him on the verge of combustion. You were silky smooth, and soft mews spilled from between plush lips as you sunk down onto him, head cast back to expose the beautiful column of your throat.

Steve’s hand was pressed to your bare sternum, dwarfing your frame as he extended his touch to every part of you, desperate to squeeze and caress while the stars began to spin behind his eyes.

Directly above him, you were mirrored, the steady push and pull of your bodies, the rucking of his hips on white satin sheets for all the world to see.

He breathed your name, whined it really, in desperation, begging for you to go faster, to slow down, he didn’t know, he just felt the curl of his stomach, his toes, the building of that climax about to burst.

And then he heard the thunk, a distinct crash of glass and pill bottles from the adjacent suite bathroom.

He took two steps inward to find the Devil himself lying motionless beside the bathtub. Scarlet red skin, cloven feet, two horns that jutted from beneath jet black curls.

Steve shook his head, feeling the weight of something in each of his hands. An empty pill bottle and a fifth of whisky. You did this.

No, no, no, no. Steve knelt beside the man, slapping ruby red cheeks, shaking at a studded leather jacket. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He pried the man’s mouth open to expose pointed fangs.

“Guess you’ll have to take my place,” the man said, eyes wide and ice blue. “You’re the Devil now.”

—

“Holy fucking shit,” Robin exclaimed, all limbs, blocking the aisle in a local bookstore.

Steve shushed her and pulled a photography book off the shelf. He wondered if you were familiar, if you’d thumbed through the pages with a glass of wine in hand, curled into your futon, maybe you were wearing a nightgown… Jesus Christ.

“You had a Wet Nightmare?”

“Not quite as satisfying as it sounds.”

Robin made a face of disgust. “Please spare me.”

Steve sighed and returned the book to its shelf, pressing on through the aisles as though he had something to look for that didn’t remind him of you.

His best friend rounded to the other shelf, freckled face exposed when he removed the next book. He sighed and replaced it to cover her grin.

“So, what do you think it means?” She asked, having returned to his side and looped her lanky arm through his.

“I don’t know, Rob,” he ran a hand through his hair.

“I mean, it feels pretty obvious.”

He rolled his eyes. “Enlighten me.”

With a tug of his arm, she twirled him to face her. Sun poured in from a skylight, warm and yellow, illuminating the blue in Robin’s eyes. Steve wondered if you would capture a moment like this.

“You feel immense guilt over trying to steal Eddie’s girl when you promised him you’d make her fall in love with him.”

Moment ruined.

Steve palmed her face and shoved her away.

She swatted at his arm and chased him past the meow of a little ginger shop cat and down a new aisle.

“I’m not trying to steal her,” he muttered when she finally caught up.

“I know you’re not, dingus. You’re much to chivalrous for that crap.” Robin nodded, rubbing a circle into his shoulder.

Steve hummed and pulled a book from the shelf, too heavy, probably a million pages, with a dragon on the cover. The dragon’s eyes were wreathed in flame, his scarlet scarlet. He shelved it. “You should have seen his face.”

“The Devil on the ground? He wasn’t real, babe.”

Steve rubbed at tired eyes and shook his head. “No, Eddie. It’s like, the second he realized he might lose her, he freaked. And I think the most irritating part is that I felt it too. I thought she was going to run and that I’d never see her again because I have to pick him.”

Robin nodded, sliding a book from the shelf to read the back cover. “And why do you feel like you have to pick him?”

Steve swallowed. He knew the answer. It had been nagging at him for days, spinning around in his skull with images of those empty bottles, those tile floors. “Because he needs me.”

His best friend kept her face incredibly expressionless as she flipped through the novel in her hands. Then, with a sigh, she said, “I’m going to ask this will all of the love and understanding in the world. Do you think maybe you need him because something inside of you needs to feel needed?”

Steve didn’t respond, just felt his molars grit around the pang in his chest when her insight hit the nail on the head.

Robin replaced the book on the shelf. “Eddie’s a big boy. He’s grown a lot over the years, thanks to you, and I know he just wants what’s best for you. I think he’ll understand.”

“You think he’ll understand that I’m trying to steal his girl?”

She shot him a look. “I thought you weren’t.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I think when you talk to him, he’ll understand why you can’t be his wingman this time.” She shrugged, turning the corner down another aisle. Books were stacked to the ceiling near an open stockroom, and her fingertips etched the spines.

“Remind me why you came to town? To torture me?” Steve leaned against a big rolling ladder, locked into place.

“I missed you, idiot,” she pinched his cheek and carried on into Science Fiction.

He swatted her away and followed. His phone felt heavy in his pocket, words left unsaid between the two of you, a wordless trek to the gallery. You thanked him at drop-off. You promised him you’d call if anything came up and that you felt safer knowing Hargrove was locked up. Steve promised you he’d have a good time with Robin and that he was happy you felt safe.

Neither of you said anything about the SD card, about the phone call with Eddie.

Maybe Robin was right, maybe he should call his friend. Maybe he should fly back to London with Robin, leave you and the city behind for a while, clear his head.

“So tell me about this gala.” Robin interrupted his thoughts, hands somehow already full.

With a sigh, Steve took her haul under his own arm. “Some charity is auctioning off her pieces and invited her to be in attendance.”

“That’s very cool. Are you still going?”

He glanced down at the titles in his hands, shrugged. “I don’t have to. I can tell her you want to spend your time here with me. I’m sure she’d understand.”

“And miss all of the aftermath drama? Hell no! You are going, Harrington and you are staying all night. Mainly because I’m going to bring a girl back with me and I need you to not kill the mood with your melancholia.” She gestured to his person and held out another book for him to take.

“These aren’t all going to fit in your suitcase,” he pointed out.

She shot him a look.

“Why do you get to bring a girl back to my apartment?”

“You had your chance, Harrington, and you ended up on the couch. Time to let the master show you how it’s done.”

He watched as she strolled through the aisles toward an attractive young woman with a curled bob and overalls. Robin commented on the stack of books in her hand, and the girl chuckled. Moments later, Robin was slipping her phone from her pocket and into the girl’s hand.

Steve shook his head, mouth agape, as she offered him a little wink and gestured for him to hurry and follow her to the register.

—

You: Headed home. Thanks for everything.

—

Steve winced as Robin pushed her little wooden stick into his cuticle. He wasn’t sure how she’d talked him into it, probably guilt tripped him, but they sat cross-legged across his coffee table with beer and chips and the sting of acetone and nail polish.

“Okay, hypothetical scenario for you,” Robin continued her assault on his nail beds, tonguing the corner of her mouth for concentration on his pinky. “Let’s say you call Eddie right now, tell him you’re in love with her, and he realizes he doesn’t want her as bad as you do. So he moves on. He hooks up with Lizzie or finds another girl in the UK who is far more metal or far more Lord of the Rings elf, right up his alley.”

“Where are you going with this?” Steve groaned.

“Let me finish,” she poked at the back of his hand for emphasis before dripping a tincture of oil onto his fingertips. “So he falls madly in love, right? And they deserve each other. And your girl is sad because Eddie broke her heart. What do you do?”

Steve shook his head, not willing to play games that’ll get his hopes up.

“You’d comfort her. Because you don’t like the people you love to be in pain.”

“Like Eddie if I told him I was in love with his girl.”

As if on cue, Steve’s phone buzzed on the table between them. Munson’s picture lit up the screen, and before Steve had a chance to snatch it off the table, Robin answered.

“Speak of the Devil,” she said.

“And he shall appear,” Eddie finished. “Hey, Buckley, how’s my favorite world traveler?”

“Jet lagged,” she managed a weak smile, circles dark under her eyes. Steve tried to force her into a nap, but she was insistent in staying up.

“I bet,” Munson laughed. “You are with Harrington, right? Or have you finally stolen his identity?”

“I’m here,” Steve sighed, paint fumes making him dizzy.

“Oh good. Where’s Sug?”

“On her way home from the gallery,” Steve glanced at the clock, making a mental note to check in on you. You should be home by now.

“I’m not going to ask why you aren’t with her, but I guess this is a good opportunity to ask how our plot is working. She in love with me yet?”

Robin made eyes at him like he ought to tell the truth, those “if you don’t tell him, I will” eyes.

He made a face back.

She opened her mouth to start talking.

“What’s up, Munson? Isn’t it late there?”

“Coward.” Robin mouthed.

He rolled his eyes, resisted running his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, did you guys get my packages?”

“What deliveries?”

“Becky didn’t call you down?”

Steve blinked back at Robin’s teasing expression for a moment longer before Eddie’s sentence made sense. “Oh, we haven’t been back to the loft since you left.”

“Why the hell not? There’s full security, a door man, a reception desk, and we installed that huge lock. Not to mention, there’s enough beds for all of you. Robin, tell him to let go of his pride and let you sleep in a King sized bed.”

“What he said,” Robin nodded fervently.

Steve rolled hie eyes. “What packages?”

“I bought Sugar a dress for the gala. Robin, I’m actually glad I’ve got you. I’m looking at earrings right now. Do rubies say ‘I love you but I’m not desperate’?”

Steve stomach churned.

Robin’s eyes went wide, and then her face went through a myriad of emotions before settling on, “Sure. Yes, definitely go with rubies.”

“Shit, are her ears even pierced?”

“Yes.” He hated that he knew that, hated that he watched you loop a silver hoop just before the gallery opening, hated that he wanted to press his nose to the spot where your pulse met your jaw.

Robin snorted, all accusation and face hidden in her bright blue nail polish.

“Great. I’m having Angelo make - a tux. You haven’t - beefier since our last -?”

Call waiting beeped over his voice. Steve glanced down to see Hopper’s name, no photo attached.

“Eds, I’m going to have to call you back. Hopper’s on the other line.”

Before his friend had a chance to ask questions, he switched lines.

“Hello?”

“Steve, Jim Hopper here. Listen, I’ve got your girl at the station. She’s fine, just a little shaken up. She asked me not to call you, but I’m not letting her leave here without you.”

—

Hopper’s precinct hadn’t been updated since the 80s. Bricks painted yellow cast sallow shadows on the faces of everyone who shuffled papers around a small office. Florence greeted them with a friendly smile and the smell of stale coffee.

The thundering of Steve’s heartbeat hadn’t quieted since Hopper’s phone call. Robin was up and pulling his jacket off the rack before he even had a second to ask Hop for context, and the two of them split from his apartment and rushed down rainy sidewalks to get there.

Flo buzzed them in, past a glass divider and into a small room with desks stacked with bobble heads and baseballs. Just beyond was an office with a plaque reading Jim Hopper, and a gruff voice asked, “what?” when her knuckled wrapped on the hard wood.

The door opened to reveal a hulking frame behind the desk, broad shoulders and a bushy mustache. A coffee cup steamed in his hand.

Across from him, you sat in a little aluminum chair, your own hands wrapped around a ceramic mug, shoulders slumped. You turned to see who had entered, eyes glassy. “Steve?”

“Sorry, kid, didn’t want to let you loose on your own.” Hopper confessed.

Prodded by Robin, Steve took a few tiny steps into the office and knelt beside you.

Your hands trembled around the mug. A tear escaped the corner of your eye and began to streak the side of your face.

He caught it with his knuckles, brushing it into the hair on your temple. “Are you alright?”

You wiped frantically at your other cheek and nose, straightening your shoulders up and away from his touch. You set the cup onto Hopper’s desk. “I’m fine.”

Steve teetered back on the balls of his feet and pulled himself to stand. “Want to tell me what happened?”

You avoided his gaze, instead nodding to the Chief to tell your story.

“In her building, some guy said hi to her, and when she got to her door, more roses and this,” Hopper slid a card across the desk for Steve to read.

Your name was scrawled in red marker and on the inside, more images of you and Eddie, these taken during your gallery opening.

Eddie’s sunglasses were pulled down his long nose, tongue to his canines in a sly grin, hand tucked gripping your waist. You were swatting at him, just as giddy. Only the same red slash mark through your throat had pierced the paper. This time, the artist only got more graphic in his illustrations on the following couple of photos. Enough to churn Steve’s stomach.

“What the fuck?” Robin hissed.

Steve shot her a look over your head.

The poem went as follows:

Roses are red

I thought you’d been warned

I must make you understand

That you will be harmed

“What did this guy look like? Have you seen him before?” Steve tossed the card back to Hopper.

You shrugged, rubbed at the exhaustion in your eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe? He had these blue eyes. They looked so familiar, but I can’t place him.”

“We’re thinking Hargrove’s got an accomplice, maybe a brother or cousin. Seems like his dad’s a total dick, so it’s not out of the realm of possibilities. We’re looking into it. Think he doubled-down when we took him in.” Hopper explained.

Steve nodded. “We’re going to Munson’s. There’s triple the security there, high quality CCTV. She’ll be safe there.”

You looked up at him then, something terse hardened your jaw and your gaze. When Steve frowned, you looked away again.

“Good, you all try to get some rest. I’m going to send some guys to have eyes on you, too. Call me if anything changes.”

Steve nodded again. “You too.”

You stood before anyone could prompt you and thanked Hopper. You rounded the chair the opposite side of Steve to charge out of the room, but halted abruptly when you found your way was blocked by a leggy blonde in Steve’s denim jacket.

“Oh, hi,” Robin gulped, glanced up at Steve and back to you. “I’m Robin.”

You introduced yourself, voice softer than he had ever heard, a shell of yourself. You glanced back over your shoulder at Steve, looking so small and so lost.

—

Your skin was supple and smooth beneath his palms, throat extended to he could kiss the dip where your jaw met your earlobe. A mewl escaped plump, bitten lips. Steve growled into your clavicle and pressed you tighter into the pane of glass.

“Eddie,” you breathed.

Steve blinked and pulled back from you, that familiar pang of jealousy tight under his sternum.

He trailed your arm to your hand tangled in a mess of curls. Eddie knelt between your thighs, curling your toes.

Steve’s heart raced in his chest, and then you were grabbing him, pulling him back to you.

“Steve,” you gasped in his ear, clutching at his shoulders, raking fingernails along the muscles of his back.

He groaned and buried his face in your chest once more.

Then gravity gave out.

A crash of glass cracked and splintered the pane behind you and the three of you were falling, spiraling downward, endlessly, terminal velocity to a ground that never came. Steve couldn’t fly to you fast enough, watching you float further and further away, fingertips grasping for his own. Eddie clung to his knee, screaming for him to get you, to save you, that he needs you. Help him, Steve, help him.

You hit the ground first.

—

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” You whispered, clutching a glass of water in both hands. You stood at the window, city lights painting you in deep reds and yellows.

Steve’s heart raced, nightmare having startled him upright on the sofa. He was drenched in sweat, t-shirt clinging and faux fur blanket wrapped around his waist. He gulped and gestured for you to come sit, anything to get you away from the glass. “Everything okay?”

You shrugged and glanced out at the world once more before taking cautious steps toward him. You perched on the very edge of a plum velour chair, the back rising up and over your head like a throne, blanketing you in shadow.

“You want to talk about it?” His voice was hoarse. He wondered if he’d been yelling. He hope he hadn’t woken you.

“I don’t want to wake Robin.” You whispered.

He rubbed at the sleep in his eyes and glanced upward to the loft stairs. “Nothing can wake Robin. Plus, she’s jet lagged. What’s going on?”

You hesitated for several long moments before you spoke again, voice still soft, but above a whisper. “I looked through every single one of my Instagram followers and Billy’s and none of them were that guy. I just feel like I know him from somewhere. I thought maybe he was at the gallery opening, so I went through the guest list and my client list. He’s not in there. Maybe it’s just a guy who lives in my building, and that’s how I recognize him. I don’t know, Steve, I just feel like I’m going crazy here.”

“You’re not.”

“And I know it’s safer here, but sleeping in that big bed all by myself just pisses me off. I kept catching the reflection of my phone in those stupid mirrors, and I just feel like I’m being reminded of what a fucking idiot I am.”

“You’re not,” Steve repeated.

“No, I think I am. I don’t know what I was thinking, maybe that because I’m such a nobody, I’m impervious to all of the other shit that comes with sleeping with a rockstar. I just thought it couldn’t touch me. Paparazzi, fans, whatever. I’m just a girl with a camera like they are. I’m just being young and having fun. Nothing and no one can hurt me. Fucking stupid.”

“It’s not,” Steve shook his head.

Steve felt the pang in his chest again, like a cloven hoof crashing through bone and muddling his organs. He glanced at the pane of glass, vaguely wondered how easy it’d be to crash through.

“I just,” you took a deep breath. Your exhaled was so shaky, he thought you might be crying, but he couldn’t see beyond the veil of shadow. “I just want to catch this guy so I can decide how to keep living my life.”

“We will.”

—

Eddie: Send me a photo of you in that tux. I need spank bank material.

—

Steve felt ridiculous with the luggage cart of packages he wheeled out of the elevator to Munson’s front door. Everything had been opened in front of Becky’s curious gaze, tissue paper torn to ensure no weapons or bombs had replaced the thousands of dollars worth of merchandise Eddie had purchased the day before.

He’d almost walked away without the coffee when Becky called his name to remind him. He thanked her, grabbing the drink carrier, and before he could walk away, she extended a hand with a lime sticky note pressed to her index finger.

“In case you need anything else,” she shrugged.

Front Desk Becky was scrawled across the note above a ten digit phone number.

Steve felt his face flush, but smiled and slipped it into his pocket. He nodded. “Thanks, Becky. I’ll see you around.”

Seemingly satisfied with his response, she nodded and buzzed to unlock the elevator.

He keyed in the six digit code to Eddie’s place and the door slipped open with ease. He thought about shouting for Robin to help him, but seeing your bedroom door closed, he figured it’d be best not to wake you. He decided instead to slip inside unheard.

Dumping keys on the side table and toeing out of his shoes, he made for the kitchen before lurching to a halt at the end of the hallway upon hearing Robin’s voice.

“I don’t mean to pry, but I have to know the answer to this before Steve gets back and tells us to shut up.”

Steve’s heart began to thud in his chest. He had half a mind to tell her to shut up right now.

“Shoot,” you chuckled, a low sound that sent his stomach doing cartwheels.

“Is Eddie like… a freak in bed? Is that why you stick around? Because I knew him in his Lord of the Rings phase and honestly, you are way out of his league. So it must be the kinky shit keeping you here, right?”

Steve’s head hit the wall at his best friend’s tact.

“Honestly?” You laughed. “He’s the total opposite of his… persona, I guess you could call it. He’s so sweet and tender. He’ll never try anything new without talking about it first. He makes you feel so… seen, I guess? Like you’re the only woman in the entire world and he just wants to make you feel desired.”

Steve closed his eyes and tried not to remember all of the moments he’d walked in on, all of the stolen kisses and whispered promises.

“Well you’re a very lucky girl. The way he talks about you, I think he really does love you.” Robin’s voice lingered, like maybe she was asking it instead of stating it, gauging a reaction.

Steve didn’t know how much more he could hear.

“Okay, my turn to ask you,” your tone shifted, conversation alleviated of its tension. “You’ve known Steve forever, right? So you must have gained some insight from the women in his life.”

The bodyguard’s face warmed.

“Oh boy, where do I start?”

“No, it’s fine, Robin, I got it.” Steve said a little too loudly, rounding the corner into the living quarters. The large windows poured in the light of a foggy morning. He made eye contact with Robin, and he could tell from her expression she knew he’d heard everything.

“Do you need help?” She asked, uncrossing her legs on the sofa.

He shook his head and smiled, “I got it. Here’s your coffee.”

She took his drink with mumbled gratitude.

Then he pulled yours from the carrier to slip between your soft fingers. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine. You?” You hadn’t.

“Good, yeah,” he nodded. He hadn’t either after his nightmare. He sat up scouring the internet for any and all suspects. He knew you were, too, yards away in that big bed all by yourself.

“Can we start digging into those presents from Eddie?” Robin cut the tension. “It feels like Christmas, and he promised he’d buy me something too. I wanna know what I got.”

Steve gestured for the entry hall and sipped his own coffee, too hot and too bitter for such a grey morning.

You feigned a laugh, allowing Robin to pull you up by the wrist.

—

1 Voicemail

Steve. It’s Hopper. No leads yet. Munson’s driver has been vetted, and the building security staff. We’ll have patrol cars out front as well as guys posted near the exits. I’d been packing if you got it. I don’t think Brenner’s affiliated, but we’re taking all necessary precautions. Joyce wants pictures. Stay safe.

—

A valet opened the door and Steve hopped out of the large SUV before you, extending a hand to help you down and onto the pavement of the function hall. You teetered a little on your heels as you began to ascend the stone steps, but Steve ensured the crook of his elbow was there to stabilize you.

Cameras flashed, and you clung to him like a life raft, a panicked look etched across your features.

“Relax. I’ve got you,” he muttered into your hair when you reached the massive front doors.

Coming to a coat room, your worn leather jacket was slipped from your bare shoulders, and your white invitation was exchanged for a numbered stub that Steve slipped from your fingers to stash in the inside pocket of his tuxedo.

You didn’t wait for him to proceed into the massive event space, marble pillars standing hundreds of feet tall on either side of you.

Say what you will about Eddie Munson, but the man had style.

Your dress was the perfect shade of burgundy to match the rubies dangling from your earlobes. It billowed with each step, yet maintaining enough structure to hug and accentuate every beautiful curve. The silk garment left your shoulders bare, the expanse of your beautiful skin exposed and gathering goosebumps as you entered the vast space.

Steve suffered the same goosebumps when you’d both stepped out from your designated dressing spaces, you in your dress and heels, he in his all-black ensemble. The two of you just took a breath to stop and stare, a moment suspended in time.

For half a second, he was tempted to sweep you off your feet, to crash his lips into yours and never let you go. He took two strides closer. You did the same, fingers tangling with nerves or excitement or anticipation, that familiar glint of mischief in your eye.

“Alright, I’ll say it,” Robin sliced into the moment. “I’d fuck both of you. Right now, if you’d like?”

You laughed, head thrown back, dark lipstick accentuating your sparkling white teeth. He’d pay to feel them sink into him.

Now, he remained two strides behind, giving you space to relax, to take in your surroundings, to lead the charge.

Your name was called from nearby, and he watched every muscle in you tighten and release when you looked over to find Martin Brenner, host of the gala, with his hand outstretched to you.

You accepted and allowed a kiss to the height of your cheekbone.

Brenner introduced you to a handful of guests surrounding them. Steve tried to memory-bank their names and faces. All of them older, none of them had blue eyes.

“This is my date, Steve Harrington,” you extended your hand now, and your bodyguard fell into place beside you, shaking hands and offering curt nods.

“You work in the music industry, do I have that right?” Brenner sized him up, squared shoulders and pursed lips.

Steve spared a glance your direction, felt himself tighten at the fear in your gaze.

Brenner shrugged, let a smug smile slip onto his features. “Background checks. We want to ensure our get-togethers are safe. I’m sure you understand. You’re in security, right?”

Steve nodded, tight-lipped. “I appreciate your diligence.”

Brenner’s smile widened at this. “Good man. Your job must feel grueling, all of those late nights, traveling the world. Have you ever considered settling down? Maybe taking a stationery position somewhere? I’m always looking to expand my security team.” He nodded to indicate men with earpieces scattered throughout the floor.

Your fingers gripped Steve’s bicep tighter. He smiled and shrugged. “I tend to thrive in chaotic circumstances.”

Brenner seemed to appreciate his response, but glanced over his shoulder with a nod. “Well, it was fantastic seeing you both again. Hopefully I’ll catch up later. More guests to greet. Please, help yourself to some drinks.” And he was off.

—

Several champagne flutes had found their way into your hands and then abandoned on tables, still full, while you met and greeted dozens of Chicago’s elite. Steve recognized a few faces, elbows he’d knocked before, and tried to impress you, when he could, with introductions. He couldn’t help but delight in the way your timid smile grew with each compliment.

“You’re doing great,” he managed to whisper between senators and lobbyists.

That smile had his stomach doing somersaults.

“When I saw your piece, I cried,” another woman said, clutching your arm with diamond encrusted fingers. “I’m serious. I thought, ‘that’s it. That’s my city.’ Your work is amazing. Isn’t her work amazing?”

Steve nodded and smiled. “Her eye is incredible. I feel the same way every time I look at it.”

“It’s not enough that her work has to be beautiful though, I mean, will you look at her?” The woman’s secretary pitched in.

“Isn’t she breathtaking?” He agreed. The soft candlelight wrapped you in warmth, reflecting off smooth skin and the sheen of your dress. If only they knew what you looked like in a t-shirt, hair tossed to the top of your head, sipping a lavender latte.

“You’re a very lucky man.”

“I am,” he nodded.

“Ladies, will you excuse us? I think I need a little air.” You tugged at his forearm, and the woman chirped and cooed goodbyes.

When you finally stepped into the hallway, breeze brisk from outside, you rounded on him.

“Why did you make me sign that NDA?”

Steve blinked, whiplashed at your change in demeanor. After the first exchange, he noticed your shoulders relax, that light come back into your eyes. Now, you were all harsh angles and spat words. “What?” He shook his head.

“I gave you the SD card and told you to come find me, as in, come talk to me, as in, I’m interested in you, Harrington. I thought I made it pretty fucking clear. And then I met Eddie and started talking to him, and he told me I had to talk to his security guard to sign the NDA, and I don’t know I guess a part of me really hoped you would talk me out of it and convince me to go home with you instead, but you didn’t.”

Steve glanced around the hall at on-lookers before gripping your hips and pushing you back into a more secluded corner.

“Don’t touch me,” you huffed.

He released you immediately, hands threading through his hair while his brain tried to catch up with everything you’d said.

Steve felt his jaw go slack, but only in the way he can feel his hands go numb if he’s been laying at a weird angle on an airplane. Everything buzzed and his ears popped and his heart thundered in his ears.

“So why did you make me sign the NDA?”

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond, couldn’t find words past. “I don’t know.”

You were trembling, breath shallow as you slipped one hand into his, the other tucked up under his lapel. “Do you feel..” You glanced up at him through long, thick eyelashes.

He swallowed, nodded, allowed his hand to caress the small of your waist. Your smooth dress caught on calloused fingers.

“So kiss me,” you tilted your head, breath warm on his face.

He traced circles into your hand with his thumb.

“Steve,” you breathed. “Kiss me.”

Your name cut through the air too loud, too disruptive, ripping through you.

“The woman of the hour, have you seen her? I heard she came out this way. I simply must compliment her on her work.”

Steve’s blood ran cold at the sound, and he turned on his heel to find a man in an all-white tuxedo, a menacing grin splitting his features.

“Oh, Harrington, right? Good to see you.” Jason Carver extended his hand.

---

[A/N: Dun dun dunnnnn. I think I might be in love with him. Steve. Just for clarificaiton. xoxo]

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suxdixx4god · 8 months ago

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i don't create a kosher kitchen or avoid chametz for passover

i live an inclusive life i share most of my resources time and spaces w other people and they aren't kosher or know what chametz is

i'd rather just read about the passover story on passover and observe awareness of the story

i can keep kosher to a certain level but like unless i lived and existed in a jewish only community or just was alone all the time there's literally no way for me to successfully perform the tradition correctly. it's not possible.

and i don't think religion is worth changing things abt my life like being socially focused and working w the public and being out in shared spaces and environments all the time.

i can only observe it to the point where it can fit into my daily life if it doesn't i modify the practice or observance of it and if anyone dislikes that i dislike them

and i don't believe in Kareth. If Hashem is real and connected to a person, Hashem should exist with you if you break a rule or not.

like how many traditions and rules have been written using god as a front to make ppl obey it. if hashem is this other dimensionly being that exists outside the mundane physical earth realm i don't think hashem would actually give a fuck if you ate bread or drank a pepsi zero. some things i think ppl do just to feel alive or like they have something they can do with other people.

i like leaving fruit out for sukkot cause i super fuck w that holiday.

passover tho like, i can read about what happened and absorb the information. i don't get what my stomach today has to do with their situation back then, because it doesn't have anything to do w it. :|

i'm abt that symbolic sh!t like lighting candles, that's cool. but i'ma eat my fucking breadrolls and i'm not gonna endure kareth.

nobody is going to endure kareth. any religious text that says you'll be punished eternally for not being good enough at something or doing something right, that's abusive. and if it rlly does work that way i know how to throw hands and tussle if i wake up in the fiery depths of a fucked up shouldn't be real law.

i think god is a dramatic such a fucking dramatic entity. if someone told me i have to act a specific way or my life will be cursed and i will suffer endless consequences i would beat the fuck out of them.

but that's why i always fucked w Lilith more anyways 🤷🏻‍♀️

i don't even think hashem is the main character of judaism i just think they're the fucking loudest one

bro thinks so too that's why they always like "oh don't seek out other entities besides me i only want u 2 like me and listen 2 me 👉🏼👈🏼" girl so ur admitting there are other relevant entities in the conversation let's open the doors set some seats out and work together why u so scared 4

TLDR i think i'm slowly overtime developing a type of judaism that is congruent w being in shared spaces and in public 24/7 cause as much as i appreciate jewry um

i can't stop my life for a mid tradition and i'm not going to unless it serves a rlly significant purpose

i am witchly i believe a lot of the stories from ancient history's past have also been misinterpreted for centuries

i've done spells before where in exchange for one thing i abstained from a different thing and they have basically worked

i think in the particular situation where communities were trying to flee and escape and asked hashem for divine power to enable the journey, i think something metaphysical had to occur to get that wheel turning and get them free.

but i'm not trying to do anything metaphysical on passover i'm probably on my computer doing work and chilling.

like they had to do what they had to do to get what they needed done, done. and it worked. but thousands of years later i just don't get why i would have to repeat the ritual. we're not stuck in that situation anymore. we can relax now. ?? sheesh if i have to flee a king that's forcibly holding my family hostage i'll do whatever divine hexing bullsh!t i have to do in that scenario but on passover this year i am just chilling on my computer.

i ain't omitting chametz curse me idgaf

technically a rabbi might choose to exempt me because i have a digestive disease and also autism so changing the foods i've decided are safe to eat could cause a medical crisis for me

but even if that was not the case i just don't fuck w Kareth. people should uphold the traditions and values that they resonate with.

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mikesbasementbeets · 2 years ago

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ok i've started rewatching dawson's creek to look for will/el/mike paralells in pacey/dawson/joey (and i think i'm actually finding some max stuff too with jen???)

going in, my thought was that joey is mike, pacey is will, and dawson is el (which i still think is true in the series overall), but just in the pilot i'm seeing byler in a LOT of the joey/dawson dynamic: childhood best friends who start getting weird around each other as they grow up and into their fledgling sexualities. this is a bit of the first interaction in the series and i think it weirdly sums up mike(joey)'s relationships with both will and el (dawson) in slightly different ways

Joey (trying to leave in order to avoid sleeping over (in Dawson's bed), which is something they've done since they were kids): "I just think our emerging hormones are destined to alter our relationship, and I'm trying to limit the fallout."

Dawson: "Your emerging hormones aren't developing a thang for me, are they?"

Joey: "A 'thing?' No, I'm not getting a 'thing' for you, Dawson... we're changing and we have to adjust or else the male-female thing will get in the way."

joey and mike both associate growing up with relationships inevitably changing, and cling to the idea that at a certain age (around puberty) boys and girls can't be "just friends" anymore. we see lucas plant this idea in mike's head in season one

mike is a boy and el is a girl, and mike is being kind and protective over her, so mike's friends (and family) assume he 'likes' her... and therefore so does he

(literally staring directly into her eyes as he leans in to kiss her.... ok)

anyway

as for will, joey is obviously lying in this scene - she does have a 'thing' for dawson (whether it be a product of the above idea or not) but dawson has always been her best friend and she's finding herself having feelings that would complicate that friendship... so she represses it and tries to put distance between them instead (without really being able to escape the feelings) and THAT becomes the thing that strains their friendship

some other things from the pilot i took note of:

dawson is trying to impress jen, so he invites her to the movies with himself and pacey, then begs joey to come along so it won't be weird for jen... which puts joey feeling like she's on a weird sort of double date with pacey (which isn't really relevant at this point, pacey's off in his own plotline, but i found it funny...she thinks she likes dawson but ends up paired with pacey a lot....hmm)

joey and dawson then have a confrontation about dawson's infatuation with this girl he's just met, which ends with joey telling him to grow up

(also this scene with the four of them walking to the movie and pacey in the back laughing at them)

joey's initial reaction to jen reminds me a lot of mike's dynamic with max... and actually everyone's sort of dynamic with max (jen just reminds me a lot of max tbh). pacey and dawson are both immediately infatuated, but pacey moves on quickly (i'm not gonna talk about his storyline this season lmao it sucks), and joey is immediately jealous of the boys' attraction to her. (their relationship is pretty antagonistic for a while, but in later seasons they become a lot closer and/bc they're a lot more alike than they like to admit (madwheeler anyone??))

jen actually really stuck out to me with the max parallels (although she's a little more in the el role at first, being sort of a source of conflict between the main "just friends" love interests): she starts off by moving to a new town and becoming friends with dawson, joey, and pacey, who have all been friends since they were kids. her family dynamics are... messy. a lot of her emotional arc over the first season has to do with her comatose grandfather and dealing with the grief of losing him while living with her grandmother who disapproves of her in every single way... and finding and trying to fit in with a group of friends whose dynamic is already established (and Complicated) and getting hurt in the crossfire (thinking s2 max)... also something about both of these characters just resonates the same chord with me idk

and a couple more random things:

(yes dawson is obsessed with spielburg so they're all there but these two shots in particular... and he also has the film posters he's less proud of.... in his closet.....)

also

anyway, this is probably gonna be a slow analysis, (they're really very different shows and dynamics and again i'm only on the pilot lol) but maybe i'll post more thoughts if i have them

#byler #this got away from me i don't know how to be brief.... or stay on subject #there's so much more i could talk about with character parallels too but i'll probably do that later when i'm more organized #that is if i actually continue this.........#anyway tagging this for myself uh #pacey's pond #mikesbasementbeets posts

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stellocchia · 3 months ago

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Part of the reason why he'd want to keep him has gotta be because he's making his other henchmen flight risks. Especially Killer.

The power thing is probably a good reason too, though, from what we've seen from the comics, he's got his main enemies handled with just Killer, so perhaps more so on the healing front. I mean, we have no reason to think that any of the people possibly working under Nightmare would be good at healing magic. And, while he can find replacements for all of them, having to do that all the time has gotta be a hassle.

The last of the reasons, though this is completely in headcanon territory, is probably just to prove to himself that he can. And to prove to Color and himself that Color is just as bad as him after all. Because if he proves that then he has no incentive to try and get better so those working under him will want to stay with him. Because, ultimately, those are always gonna be his only two options to avoid ending up alone yet again: either get better or make every viable alternative worse.

As for the how, I think there would be an escalation.

His first choice would be to try and entice Color with something he thinks he may want. Power. The unachievable promise of getting his normal life back. Control. Fame. Whatever have you. Because corrupting him through his own greed would be the best way to prove that he's just as rotten.

Once that fails, we're moving on to harsher methods. Perhaps using Killer as emotional blackmail. Maybe even the rest of them, as Color wouldn't like knowing they're all being hurt under Nightmare. Perhaps he would threaten the safety of Delta and Epic if he managed to gather enough info on Color to know about them. Maybe he'd even threaten Othertale!Gaster ('cause I think he's still just sitting in the void, right? I don't actually remember).

If emotional blackmail fails he is straight up gonna kidnap him and resort to torture. And I think it could be interesting if Killer's involvement starts in this part. Specifically, I wonder how much Color could take of seeing Killer get hurt before he agrees (at least outwardly) to helping Nightmare. Because, and here's the thing, torturing someone breaks them. And if he breaks Color too much he'll end up being useless to him. Killer is sturdy, and he can SAVE, LOAD, and RESET. Besides, Nightmare knows that his pain tolerance is absurd. And he has played with his soul in the past, he knows Killer can still be useful no matter how much he pushes him.

So, just dropping the idea here.

I also think Nightmare would feel it's far more of a victory from a personal standpoint if he manages to get Color to say "yes" without ever even touching him. Just pushing further and further until he crumbles anyway.

Would Color still try and attempt an escape after having witnessed first-hand what the consequences of it may be for the other henchmen? Or would he need some convincing from Delta and Epic? It could be cool if the one putting everything in motion in this version of events is Cross who has just been sneaking out to meet his bestest dude bro and just lets slip that they got a new recruit and it's Color. But it could also be really interesting if seeing all that violence only encourages Color even more to try and save MTT and Cross. And playing along with Nightmare and lowering his guard might help him on that front.

I don't know. There are a lot of possibilities for how this may go...

So i was thinking about this post, and it got me curious. Does anyone have any ideas as to how and why exactly Nightmare would want to “corrupt” Color?

Would the corruption be literal, as in magic or Nightmare’s aura, or would it be more along the manipulation/torture/whump lines? Both? What would be the exact methods and reasons (for example, Color is stronger than the MTT in terms of magic and also has a lot of healing magic, so that could be useful)?

Who all will be aware and involved? Will Killer be made to take part, if not the main one, how active would he be? Is there a plan to try and escape, or does Color have to try and convince Killer that escape is possible? Does anyone else know where Color is? Anyone looking for him?

Or maybe this all backfires on Nightmare because Color remains himself, trying his best to help the MTT and/or Cross and then they all escape together.

#utmv #sans aus #killer sans #color sans #nightmare sans #bad sanses #nightmare’s gang #utmv headcanons #undertale aus #whump ideas #corrupted nightmare sans #long post #cw torture #cw emotional manipulation #cw kidnapping #of course making killer hurt color is an option too #and I think the angst from that would be great #but I just enjoy nightmare using heavy emotional blackmail to get what he wants first and foremost

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years ago

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YOU DRIVE ME MAD

Summary: Fred's and Y/n's silly rivalry may have more to do with love than with hate; after a fatal incident, some confessions are made.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa

Warnings: brief mention of violence, blood, language (this seems a lot darker than it is lmao)

A/N: idk man I just love this idiot so here it comes another oneshot. The reader's house is not specified btw. Enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Fred spotted me and walked to stand near me before asking jokingly "On your way to kill a man, Y/n?" Oh, little did he know.

"what is that?!" I exclaimed at the sight of my friend's bruised arm.

"uhm... Nothing."

"who did that to you?" I knew the answer before I even got it. My friend had gone to break up with that Cormac McLaggen the previous night; she had finally listened to us and ended that toxic relationship they had, but apparently she got a souvenir from it.

"It's fine- he didn't mean to- Y/n don't do anything stupid." Too late, I saw red.

"I don't have time for your bullshit, Weasley." I curtly replied bumping his shoulder while I walked past him, making his smile drop in confusion. I never missed the opportunity to start a playful argument with him, but, as I had said, I didn't have time for that.

With the corner of my eye, I saw him joining my friends in the task of trailing after me.

I spotted the bastard chatting with his friends in the middle of the hallway that led to the Great Hall. "Oi, McLaggen!"

"Evening, Y/l/n." That filthy grin vanished from his face when I kicked him in the balls, triggering some gasps from our peers and a grunt of pain from him.

"Listen carefully, you loathsome pig." I leaned over to be eye to eye with him. "If you dare to lay a finger on my friend again— if you even think about it— I'll become your personal nightmare." I stood upright again, his eyes full of hate and rage following my movements. "You don't deserve a bloody warning, but I'm a generous woman." Poison dripped off my tongue, my eyes throwing daggers at him as I stepped back and turned around.

My eyes met Fred's worried ones while I made my way to my friends; they surely had told him enough for the ginger to know this was no time for joking and teasing.

His gaze then flickered behind me with panic and I realized a tad too late I shouldn't have turned my back to McLaggen; at the end of the day, pride overpowered honour in a lot of Gryffindors.

I spun around, grabbing my wand from my pocket, but I wasn't fast enough; before I knew what was happening, Fred was in front of me, serving as a human shield from the jinx.

The unknown spell hit his back and propelled us in my friends' direction. I was quickly on my knees, sitting Fred up and earning a grunt in the process, which I initially thought was caused by the fall. "Are you mental?!" My friend casted an Expelliarmus at the younger Gryffindor, long forgotten due to Fred's actions.

"My back— AH!" He yelped when I tried to pull him up.

"OI!" A first year who had made his way to the first row of students frantically gestured at Fred's back. "He's bleeding!!"

"What?!" I made him lean on me to take a look at his white shirt, now stained with blood. What I thought to be a harmless jinx turned out to be fatal.

"He's not supposed to be bleeding!" Cormac shouted, as panicked as I was.

One of my friends said something about going to look for George while the others shoot off to look for Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm gonna kill him..." Fred mumbled through gritted teeth, his voice shaky and weak. He felt so fragile in my arms, and I couldn't help the tears stinging my eyes.

"Fred—" his hands, which had been gripping my forearms, lost strength as the boy's body relaxed. "For fuck's sake don't fall asleep."

"... 'm trying..."

"FREDDIE!" His twin brother rushed to us, falling on his knees by his brother's side.

"I'm sorry." McLaggen had walked to us, keeping a safe distance.

"YOU'RE DEAD MCLAGGEN!" George stood up before I could stop him. Luckily for everyone, Madam Pomfrey showed up.

"Oh Lord! Mister Weasley, quick! Help me with your brother!" The Healer commanded, and soon they were pulling Fred off my grasp and rushing to the infirmary.

I was left in the middle of the hallway with my friends showering me with worried questions and reassurance.

What the fuck had just happened?

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

During dinner, several girls and a couple of boys came to congratulate me for kicking McLaggen's balls, and it would have been a lot more satisfactory if Fred Weasley hadn't stepped in the middle.

As soon as I finished my meal, I headed to the infirmary through the now quiet halls, only to find there were too many people visiting.

Of course, George was there, along with their younger siblings and Lee Jordan, but in front of them stood Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall and none other than Cormac McLaggen himself.

"—already told you it wasn't for you!"

"How is that an apology, Mister McLaggen?" McGonagall scolded him, refraining herself from hitting the boy herself.

"You better fucking run, McLaggen, because the moment I can step out of this bed I swear on Godric I will—"

"Enough, Mister Weasley!" I almost pitied the poor woman. Her House was probably the most problematic. "All of you must go to your dormitories, Mister Weasley needs to rest." I stood on the entrance of the room, unsure of whether I should leave or enter, until Flitwick's eyes landed on my form. He redirected McGonagall's attention to me, and I felt the need of shying away. "Miss Y/l/n," I didn't miss the failed attempt of Fred to move; luckily, he was stopped by his sister. "I suppose you wanted to pay a visit?"

"Uhm... I did, Professor." I confessed, fidgeting with the sleeves of my robe. "I know it's late—"

"Don't take too long." She spoke, motioning everyone to follow her. "Curfew is still at 10." She reminded me in a warning tone, passing by.

As soon as they were out, I made my way to Fred, who lay on his stomach in one of the beds, the sheets only covering his legs an hips in order to avoid the clothing chaffing his damaged skin.

"You have a heart after all, huh?" He teased once I stood in front of him.

"How are you?" He frowned at my genuine question; the ginger surely expected me to make a witty comeback, but again, it didn't seem the time.

"A tad better." He gave me a reassuring half smile, deciding to drop our banter for a night. "Flitwick said he used a stinging jinx but casted it wrong." Fred huffed. "A bloody tosser."

He motioned at the chair behind me and I sat down, scooting closer to the bed. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that he had jumped in front of me. It had hit his back, but I knew it was meant to hit my face —what a mess that would have been—, and I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"It's not on you." I felt my face flaring up at the ease with which he saw through me. I wasn't the first time he did that, but it was the first time he didn't use it to tease me.

"I know, I just—" I sighed. "I don't know." Though my sight was casted down, I still felt his worried gaze on me. "I'm gonna murder him."

"I reckon George will overtake us both on that." He tried to laugh but ended up in a since instead. "Or Gin. Maybe they'll team up with Ron and we'll find a corpse in the Gryffindor common room tomorrow." This time it was me who laughed. "How's your friend?"

"She'll be alright." I informed, distracting myself with a loose string at the hem of my skirt.

"And you?" I met his eyes with a hum leaving my mouth. "How are you?"

"Been better." I confessed.

Silence.

"Can you pass me the water?" I nodded, holding the glass in front of him and putting the straw in his mouth so he could take a couple of sips. "Thanks."

"No worries."

Silence again.

"Did you eat something?"

He scrunched his nose. "Not really."

"I'll go grab something from the kitchens." I didn't get far before his long fingers wrapped around my wrist.

"I'd rather have you here keeping my company." I then sat down again, his fingers only leaving my wrist to intertwin with mines. "I'm not hungry anyway."

More silence.

"Your hand is really soft." I reckon those words involuntarily escaped his lips by the way his eyes widened. "I don't know why I said that."

"Yours is too, surprisingly."

"Surprisingly?" He quirked an eyebrow at me, and I didn't quite realise what his grin was about until I spoke again.

"I imagined they'd be more rough." Oh no. "That came out wrong— I meant—"

"That you've imagined what my hands would feel like?" He was trying to bite back a laugh at the way my face turned red.

"No!"

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Liar."

There we went again; the white flag was out.

"Fuck you."

"Please." My cheeks turned even redder, and I wanted to think it was because of the anger. "You look really cute when you blush."

"You look really cute when you keep your mouth shut."

"Then shut me, love." He wiggled his brows at me.

"I would, but I don't wanna punch you in this state."

"You're very agressive." He pointed out, shocked that I didn't get what he was implying. "I meant with a kiss."

"Ew-" I pretended to gag. "no!"

He tugged on my hand and pulled me to my knees falling right in front of his eyes with our faces inches away. "C'mon Y/l/n, we're dragging this on now." His eyes kept falling on my mouth after I had unconsciously chewed on my lower lip.

"We're... We're not dragging on anything." I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince him or myself.

"Do you want me to start? Alright, you drive me mad." He forced his gaze to be fixed on mine. "You're annoying, rude and a pain in the arse." I huffed. "But you're also quick-witted and caring and brave." Gosh I hated how easily he made me blush. "Sometimes I want to punch you in that pretty face of yours but other times— most of the times— all I wanna do is kiss you." His thumb caressed the back of my hand. "Hell, I threw myself between you and that blonker without thinking twice!"

He raised his eyebrows, silently prompting me to say something, but I just didn't know what to say.

"Miss Y/l/n," Madam Pomfrey called, making me let go of Fred's hand an stood up. "It's almost ten o'clock! Let Mister Weasley rest." I nodded, not even looking in Fred's direction as I exited the infirmary.

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

FRED'S P. O. V.

The morning after the incident, Dean and Neville dragged in an unrecognisable McLaggen; they were probably the only ones who cared about that bloke enough to take him to Madam Pomfrey, though they did it half-heartedly.

I was discharged after three days in, right before lunch, and obviously, I was received as a hero; several people came to praise my bravery or ask how I was feeling, but I just wanted to see one person.

That night in the infirmary I was sure she felt the same way —hell, I had been sure for a couple of months— but after seeing her reaction, I didn't really know anymore.

I could always tell her it was a prank, and we would go back to our usual bickering. "Weasley!" Shit. "Fred!" She specified when the four of us turned at the call of our surname, almost jogging in my direction. "Can we talk?"

"Go ahead, darling." I prompted her without moving from my seat.

"In private?"

"Nah," I begged Godric for her not to see behind my grin the panic that produced me the mere thought of being left alone with her.

"Are you joking?" She huffed and, after taking a deep breath, she spoke. I wasn't expecting her to speak. "So you see, you're cheeky and stupid and not nearly as funny as you think." Ginny spit her pumpkin juice due to Y/n's harsh words. "but I... ugh! Okay— I want to kiss you too."

This time it was Ron who choked on his drink. "What's going on?"

"I feel like we missed an important part of this conversation." George commented.

This time it was Y/n who awaited for an answer. "This is literally the most embarrassing thing ever, so at least say something." She commanded in a rather rude tone, tapping her shoe against the floor.

I winced ever so slightly at the effort of getting up, but it was worth it when I saw her expression as I towered her; I reckon I had never seen her that sheepish before.

"That's a really mean way of saying you're attracted to me." I observed, quirking a brow at her. "Dunno why I fancy you so much."

"Well that makes the two of us." I couldn't help but chuckle at her attitude before cupping her cheeks and bring her lips to mine.

Finally.

Despite being a short, innocent kiss, was enough to make us both blush and grin like idiots.

"Awww" I rolled my eyes at my twin's mockery, knowing damn well I wouldn't hear the end of it.

"Why do I feel like I'm gonna miss you two being at each other's throat?" I couldn't care less about Ron's question as Y/n pulled me down for another kiss.

Almost bleeding to death seemed worth it in that moment.

#fred weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #harry potter #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasly x reader #gred and forge #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley fluff #fred Weasley hurt comfort #fred x you #fred x slytherin reader #fred weasley au

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anystalker707 · 4 years ago

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You wish (1/2)

Pairing: Frank Iero x [non-binary, afab] Reader Word counting: ~ 2 200 Genre: Enemies to lovers Summary: Reader is the only one who doesn't take Frank's shit, but all the bickering eventually turns into flirting.

Requested on Wattpad

A sigh escapes my lips as I finish cleaning the last glass and put it under the counter along with the others before setting the cloth aside. It's going to be a busy night because, apparently, a band is going to play in the club tonight and that usually brings a lot of people in. On the other hand, at least Mikey is helping me today – let's hope he doesn't fuck up with anything, but if he does, it's Gerard's problem and not mine, after all.

"Hello," a guy greets as sitting down on one of the stools.

I raise an eyebrow at him, glancing at his clothes; white, with a hand drawn black symbol on the shirt. Probably someone from the staff considering we haven't opened yet. The club is empty apart from me, the cleanse people and the ones putting the stage up. "Hi."

"A beer, please." He presses his lips together into a smile, watching me moving to grab what he asked, pouring the drink into a glass before I set it in front of him and throw the can away. "Thank you..." It's clear he wants to know my name, but I don't say anything, carrying on with my job, and proceed to clean the empty area of the counter. He frowns. "What's your name? Nice to meet you, I'm Frank."

"I'm just the one in charge of the bar," I reply simply. Giving attention to everyone isn't something very wise to do and something I didn't learn easily; most of the idiots sitting around the bar will just insult me in the moment I reject them or say gross things, so talks certainly should be avoided. Even if it isn't from a customer.

"Aw, you're not funny!" His words don't sound genuine tho, the disappointment is hidden under certain amusement. "'Bet you don't have many clients while acting like that!"

Cool, just like predicted. To be honest, getting rid of this stain here is more interesting.

"Hi, hi," Mikey greets and I glance back to see him walking in with a smile, "oh, hey, Frank! Didn't know you'd be the one playing here tonight!" He moves to next to Frank leaning his side against the counter. I observe them for a brief moment – so Mikey knows the punk, huh?

"Yeah," Frank replies excitedly, "Gerard could help us with it, so..." He shrugs, smiling. "Didn't know you work here, either."

"I don't," Mikey chuckles. "I just help here once in a while."

"Laze around, you mean," I add, glaring at Mikey. He gasps, widening his eyes, but I speak up before he's able to say anything. "Not to mention that your last time here costed us two glasses, you butter fingers. Thank hell Gerard is the only one to be scolded!"

"C'mon, you know how difficult it is to handle these," he groans. "You're just being annoying."

"And rude," Frank adds under his breath. "'Won't talk with me."

Mikey raises an eyebrow at Frank before chuckling. "Not surprising. I wouldn't talk with you either if you showed up like that, even more knowing how you can be—"

"Stop, you're supposed to be helping me!"

"(Y/n) is just this way, c'mon!" Mikey shrugs. "And you're annoying. I bet they were just doing their work." He glares, moving to serve Frank a can of soda this time after he pushed his glass forward while muttering something. I can't help but to glance at them with an amused smirk, having fun in watching how Frank shoots me a bitter look and Mikey is being suspiciously nice today.

"Cut off the sweet talk, Mikey," I say as approaching them, putting the cloth away for real this time. "I'll love you more if you work more. And you." I turn to Frank. "Yeah, you're annoying."

While Mikey chuckles, a long and dramatic whine comes from Frank. "You just met me! You're the annoying one! And even rude!"

"I don't go around attacking people for free, Frank." I shrug, leaning back against the counter with a sigh. "And insulting me because I didn't do what you wanted me to? What are you, five?" I hold back a chuckle, rolling my eyes. Part of what I'm doing is because I am not going to take his shit, but it is also entertaining seeing how Frank can react.

As predicted, the night ends up being quite agitated, but Mikey and I do have a break during the concert since people focus more on the music instead of getting drinks, what gives us the opportunity to pay attention to it too. It's a bit difficult seeing them – LeATHERMOUTH, that's the name – because of the low stage and huge crowd, in a way most of what I can see resumes itself to Frank jumping around like crazy, though he sometimes disappears in what I presume to be kneeling on the ground and my suppositions he has any sanity left are erased when I see him with the cable wrapped around his head. Cool.

Frank returns after the show is over, asking for a drink and, once again, using that shitty attitude that I do not take.

Through the time, Frank's band makes more shows in the club and, if it wasn't for Mikey there – consequently –, I probably wouldn't be sharing any word with him again. He is annoying. It is literally impossible to talk to him for longer than five seconds without being attacked and receiving a rude remark, even if it turns into some kind of weird flirting through the time.

I suppress a sharp sigh when seeing Frank approaching after another show came to an end – even so, it's still early in the night and another band took over when they left the stage.

"G'night, what d'you want?" Pete, who is also working in the bar today – because Mikey couldn't make it due to something related to Electric Century, if I'm not wrong –, is free and approaches Frank in the moment he takes a seat on a stool across the counter. Thank hell, maybe I don't have to deal with the dumbass today.

"I actually want (y/n) to fix me a drink, thank you," Frank replies without any pity and I need to hold back a chuckle at Pete's reaction; Frank smirks a bit as meeting my gaze.

Throwing the Cosmopolitan in the glass, I push it towards the woman, finally moving towards Frank. "Hey, rat, good concert. Would've been better if you weren't there." I grin, leaning forward on the counter with my hands on the edge of it.

"Very funny!" He rolls his eyes, twisting his mouth a bit. "I bet watching me performing would be the best part of your night if it actually wasn't talking with me."

"You wish, you're always counting the seconds to come here annoy me," I breathe, shaking my head. "Anyways, what do you want?"

"I'm actually not up for much alcohol today..." Frank hums thoughtful as looking at all the drinks behind me while placing his elbow over the counter and resting his cheek against his palm. "I was going for a Manhattan, but fix me a Spritz instead."

"As you wish," I mutter while moving to grab the bottles I need then coming back to prepare the drink.

"So, Mikey isn't here today?" Frank asks and I slowly nod in response.

"Yeah," I reply after a moment, having been focused on getting the right quantity of each drink in a way it isn't too bitter or too boozy, just as he likes it, "apparently he had something else to do, so we fixed someone else." I mix everything before throwing it inside a glass with ice, adding a rosemary branch for the looks, and push it towards him. "I needed to endure you moaning your ass off on that stage all by myself, unfortunately."

Frank snorts as taking the drink, shaking his head to himself. "Shut up, you wish you were the one to be making me moan like that." He takes a sip of the drink and raises his eyebrows lightly, quickly taking another sip of it.

I roll my eyes, not worrying if my reaction is dramatic as I pretend to gag. "I actually wish I was the one wrapping the cable around your neck, y'know?"

"Aw, babe," Frank groans, looking up at me from under his eyelashes, "I'd love that."

The words set a silence between us for a moment, in which I glare at Frank with disbelief and he's got that fake innocent look on, batting his eyelashes while looking at me. His look gives me this weird feeling in my chest, but I look away before I can identify whether it's good or bad, cursing under my breath at the same time he starts laughing.

"You're terrible," I tell Frank, moving away once seeing a guy taking a seat.

"A Paloma, please," the guy asks and I nod, moving to do as asked.

"I'm the best, actually," Frank replies in his usual smug tone and I can't help but to laugh, sarcastically agreeing.

"Here." I hand the guy his drink, sighing as moving to take a few empty glasses away from the counter and hand it to Pete so he can go clean them.

"Thank you, baby." The guy winks at me and here we go again. I ignore him. "What's your name? You a cutie, aren't yah? When is your shift over? Maybe I could take you home," he insists, but his words just turn into a background noise that I try to ignore as moving to the back to put away the bottles I've used. "Oh, you gonna play it difficult? 'Bet you—"

"Can you please leave them alone?" Frank's voice cuts in and I need to glance back to make sure I'm not making things up and there is Frank, glaring at the guy. "C'mon, man, if they're not giving you attention, that's a no. Accept it nicely and don't make it obvious how frustrated with yourself you are."

"Who even do you think you are?" The guy retorts bitterly.

"I'm just—"

"Y'know what, I'm not coming here anymore," the guy grumbles to himself and just downs the drink before he stands up and disappears among the crowd. Frank and I share a confused look before shrugging.

"Thank you, I guess," I sigh as walking back to Frank, leaning on the counter with my forearms over it and we're about the same level. I observe him for a moment, thinking about what he did, and there's this feeling in my stomach again. Butterflies? No, no, no. Not for him. I try my best to not let him know about what's going in my mind, not looking away from him.

"Don't worry." He smirks and that's just Frank. He's always smug and convinced of himself, not afraid of saying what he thinks or feels. What an idiot. For real, I like it. "You deserved it."

"Honestly, I don't know how to react," I confess, "because, since we met, it's been sounding like you're going to throw me from a cliff in the moment you have the opportunity to."

"I'm not like that, (y/n)," he breathes, eyes drifting down for a second as he bites back an awkward smile. "I, um— You're actually really nice. I just like fucking around with you." He shrugs and looks down at his glass, playing a bit with the remaining ice cubes. I keep observing him, not replying, so he looks at me again, raising an eyebrow.

Y'know what? Fuck it.

I glance down at Frank's lips and a red tone immediately takes over his cheeks with it, but I just lean in and am actually surprised by him meeting me halfway. I can still taste the Spritz on his lips, faintly, what ends up irrelevant under how nice and surprisingly soft they feel against mine. His mustache brushes lightly against the skin under my nose, tickling it, something I try to ignore as cupping his face and deepening the kiss as he places his hand over mine.

There's this feeling in my stomach again, followed by a nice tingling sensation that goes down my spine while a warm sensation fills my chest. Okay; it feels right, for once.

"I'm driving you home," Frank mutters against my lips, a bit breathless, just like me.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." I smirk a bit as we gaze at each other for a moment and I'm not sure about what'd happen next, but we are interrupted by Pete before I can find out. Idiot.

"Stop making out and go back to work, (y/n)," he calls from the other side of the bar and I sigh heavily, rolling my eyes as I move towards the couple who just approached the counter. "I'm going to tell Mikey about it!"

"You are not going to tell Mikey!" I glare at Pete before turning to the couple, asking what they want and quickly putting myself to prepare the two Martinis.

______

Part 2

#frank iero #fanfic #mcr #my chemical romance #mcr imagine #emo #emocore #frank iero imagine #frank iero x reader #leathermouth #enemies to lovers #mikey way #gerard way #ray toro #fan fiction #writer #my work #my post

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queen-of-meows · 2 years ago

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Hi !

I'm glad you two seem to have found a common ground after all 😊.

In the end, I think we're all splitting hair, because we mostly agree on the main lines (I say we as Loki fans).

In the end of the day, who cares if the stairs led to the throne room, the chicken pen or the third floor bathroom ? The point is that he helped a prisoner to escape as a little mischief, and said prisoner ended up killing his mother. It's the cruel irony of the fate, and another tragedy in Loki's life. (Also, in Thor 1, Loki did the exact same thing and blamed Thor for the "death" of Odin to mess with him. I wonder if Mobius lying to Loki was meant to be a throwback or if it's just cheer luck.)

Now I think a lot of the bad meta (or lack of meta ^^) comes from the casual viewers rather than fans. Not to play no-scottsman fallacy, but usually, poeple who ship two character do it because they love both of them an want them to be happy. And beyond shipping, if someone says something highly incorrect, they should rewatch the show and listen to the fans before interacting in fan spaces. That's basic courtesy to avoid spreading misinformation and looking stupid in public.

When it comes to abusive scenario in shipping, you will always have poeple with kinks. I've seen a lot of violent erotica in Frostiron, Thorki or Lokius art too (I can mostly think of m/m ships because those are the most represented ones in fan spaces and I don't really look for dark content on purpose.) I don't think poeple should post those kind of things in public spaces that are not 18+. I'm no one to pass a judgement, it's the Internet and after a while you are a bit jaded. If you've been anywhere near the My Little Pony fandom in 2012 you get what I mean. You can't have a fandom 100% safe from these things, because humans gonna human.

And to give my two cents that nobody asked for, there is definitively a big gossip issue in the Loki fandom ^^. Poeple are jealous of other sections for some reason and will select the worst tweets and Tumblr posts to complain with their friends. I think we're all a bit guilty of that, because sometimes we read things that make us want to smash our head against the wall. But it's important to remember 2 things : 1 it's only one person acting out and not the whole group, and 2, this person is likely an idiot who didn't think of the implication of their words. (they're still accountable for the racist, sexist or any other offensive undertones of their opinion, of course. But in fandom wank, words often go faster than thought and not everyone with a dodgy fandom opinion is a raging bigot irl).

Anyway, it was my useless addition to this very long post. Both of you made great arguments and I don't even think there was any conflict here ?

Have a good day !

It’s funny that, before Sylvie was even properly introduced in the show, she was set up as a Loki variant - you know, Loki, the guy who was a villain of three movies - and somehow people think it’s upsetting that she turns out to have villainous qualities. “Why did she have to kill her fellow variants when she could have tried to free them and join them in a revolution against the TVA?”, I don’t know Becky, why did Loki have to try and commit genocide against his fellow jotunns when he found out he was their stolen prince, instead of joining them against Odin’s imperialism? Why Loki taking out his self esteem issues on a failed attempt to conquer a planet full of innocent people who did nothing to him make him a complex and tormented villain, but Sylvie killing officers who were actively trying to harm her make her a heartless bitch?

It’s literally a theme point that Loki feels connected to Sylvie because her lust for vengeance at all costs reminds him of himself in his villain days (“I’ve been where you are”), but people somehow insist that her anger and cruelty are meant to be seen as positive or heroic, or justified, when the narrative is clearly highlighting them as moral flaws that are weighting her down and that she must put behind her. Not to mention that her arc is not done yet, and we already see the regret creeping onto her when she weeps on the floor after killing He Who Remains.

Loki stans will write walls on meta on how even smallest things about his life, like a brief passage of Heimdall being casually rude to him, or how Volstagg being casually dismissive of him, of even Sif’s brief side eye to him, equals to terrible abuse that explains how he became the bitter villain that he’s turned into. But Sylvie having her reality erased as a child because the equivalent to God Himself has deemed that her very existence was crime against Creation, which forced her to live on the run jumping from one mass death event after the other, seeing everyone she’s ever known being fated to die soon, while she’s hunted down like a dog, is something she should just get over. And that would totally not explain how she became so hardened and angry. Right.

Bottom line: moral ambiguity is for male characters only, women are not allowed to have moral flaws to grow out of, and if Sylvie has a male variant played by Hiddles himself her haters would be fawning over him as their new wobbie villain.

#long post #when I say poeple who post incensitive things are idiots I mean at the moment #not in general #also I'm the biggest clown myself so I don't have the moral high ground ^^

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keigos-dove · 5 years ago

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Teen Hawks Headcanons

Paring: Keigo Takami (Hawks) x G/N!Reader

A/N: This is something @leeswritingworld and I made together inspired by this tweet from @kadeart. We hope you like these!

Word Count: 2,247

|All works tag:| @redbeanteax @candychronicles @kirishibi @greenleaf-fantasy @k-atsukidayo @togasknifes @yuueimagines @jojosmilktea @lovingshoto @denkithot @softforshigi @cosmicskin @uwus-for-bnha @vixinman @seiiblue @verytiredartist @pinkjeanist

You're his high school sweetheart.

You're the shy quiet kid while he's more outgoing. So while he's chatting with all his friends he always looks over at you to make sure you're doing well and gives you a warm smile like a little "I love you" before going back to talking with his friends.

He sits there in class daydreaming about how wonderful and amazing you are in general and to him. He starts thinking about how he managed to snag you when there are so many other people who would be better.

Whenever he gets the chance, he looks over at you like this and when you give him a shy smile back, he can't concentrate anymore because his heart flutters uncontrollably and he's just overcome with happiness. He always gets called out by the teacher for not paying attention.

You can't help but laugh at him for getting called out but he just laughs it off and continues looking at you and not paying attention. Preferring to copy your notes later and look at you being you instead.

He'll ask you every time to copy your notes, knowing you’ll say yes every time, so that he can see you and get the chance to brush his fingers over yours when you hand him the notebook.

Sometimes he'll just snag the notebook with one of his feathers and grabs your hand just to hold it for a bit and to watch you blush and get even shyer.

He's a teen boy, so he's going cause trouble a lot. Sometimes he manages to hurt himself so carrying a small first aid with bandages has become routine at this point. Sometimes he'll do something dumb to hurt himself on purpose just to see you get worried and bandage him up.

You're not even trying to send him to the nurse's office cause you know he won't go. He'll only want to be patched up by you. He doesn't even think of going to the nurse. He'll just say, "Why go to the nurse’s office when I have my own cute nurse right here." Because we know this dork can't go one sentence without flirting with you even though you're already dating.

He'll just continue to make you blush with his flirting, and you're like "Keigo we're dating." His feathers will ruffle in excitement and happiness when he hears you say that.

Hearing you say his first name makes him so happy because he really only gets called Takami by his teachers and classmates and Hawks by the commission. The only person who knows the real him is you.

He gets made fun of all the time by his classmates because they always tease him saying "He's whipped for the shy kid." but he'll just smile and start bragging about how amazing you are and just proves their point by accident.

He wouldn't care at all that he's getting teased like that cause they don't know what a wonderful person you really are, the only person who knows who he really is and he's just so proud of having you.

He's the one to make sure you don't study till your head pops off your shoulders. He'll come through your window and fly you somewhere to eat for a break to make sure you're not stressing yourself out. He’s doing it whether you complain or not, there’s no avoiding it.

He would also make sure to be one to bring you home from school so he can protect you from eventual bullies.

At school, he brings you snacks, drinks, or sweets from the vending machine so you have something to snack on at all times.

Who needs a school bus when you have birb boyfriend transportation??

He'll just be at your widow in the morning being like, "Where to cutie?"

In high school he starts having nightmares about the stuff the commission does to him so when he does have one he sneaks out, not caring if he gets in trouble, and flies to your place and stays with you for the rest of the night for comfort.

He claims he sleeps best when you're wrapped up in his arms and wings.

Your parents tend to be strict but you don't care and always leave the window open behind the curtain for him to get in when he needs. It's gotten a habit of you two to text each other at night before going to sleep, sending each other sweet goodnight messages.

He's the boyfriend to send good morning and good night texts every day.

If you're lucky when you wake up, he's already there with something small for you to eat for breakfast. He wakes up early and gets ready for school way before you do so that he can get to your place just as you're waking up. Sometimes he's lucky and gets to watch you sleep a few minutes before you do actually wake up.

When he comes early, he slips into your room, kneeling by the bed and brushing his fingers over your cheek saying, "Time to wake up my little dove."

He's the softie who gets upset and apologizes first if you two fight even if it wasn't his fault just because he feels bad and doesn't want you to be mad at him because he doesn't want to lose you.

You always forgive him because he's just holding you so tight close to tears because he feels so bad he made you upset. You just can't stay mad at him no matter what happens.

For example when you get mad because he got into another fight and you have to bandage him up again. He'll look at your distressed face and after you're done immediately hugs you, saying "I’m sorry" the whole time. He'll be so relieved and holding back tears when he feels you hugging him back and hearing the change in your voice when you tell him to be more careful.

Even after you forgive him he'll still be emotional so you have to give him little kisses and promise to get him chicken later to make him feel better. That evening he definitely wants to come home with and fall asleep in your arms with his wings wrapped around you.

Your touch alone can keep him calm as happy enough to fall asleep. If he's not with you he's not sleeping that night.

He's generally much more prone to having nightmares when he sleeps alone. That's also why he prefers to be with you at night. He just feels so safe and secure with you.

He may be the one with wings but he calls you his guardian angel because you're always protecting him, even in his sleep.

He can't explain how grateful he is to have found someone like you who not only sees him as the real boy he is (not who everyone in school thinks he is) but also for you to be the most incredible person he has ever met. Understanding him and being able to calm him down, to ground him in his darkest moments.

You regularly pick him up from Kendo practice and check on him to see if there aren’t any new injuries from training, ‘cause you know he can be clumsy sometimes.

You go to his practices and watch him.

You go to all of his competitions to cheer him on.

You treat him to something nice when he wins and comfort him when he loses.

Keigo gets really cuddly and longs for affection after losing in an exhausting competition, so when you’re at his place afterward, you let him rest his head in your lap and you massage his scalp, shoulders, and back to help him relax.

You have to praise him for doing a good job either way and tell him that he’s really good at Kendo still.

He will nuzzle his face into your body and blush when you praise him like this but it makes him feel better nonetheless.

When he loses it’s one of those rare times when he feels vulnerable and almost weak because he’s always supposed to be strong and always win because that’s what the commission told him.

In moments like these, he can’t get enough of your love, touch, and reassurance because you’re the only one who is able to make him feel better, soothe him and build him up after feeling down like this.

He's always wearing a pair of headphones around his neck because he's a huge music dork. Music is one of is few escapes from reality besides you.

He gets a bit grumpy whenever he forgets them at home because while flying to school, music always helps him relax and focus but when he doesn't have that he gets agitated quickly. He's more than happy to finally see you when he has to go a morning without them.

He makes song playlists for both of you to listen to and has a special playlist with songs that remind him if you when he feels lonely.

He keeps that playlist a secret though. He doesn't want you to find out how whipped he is for you.

He also made a playlist for you if his favorite songs and such for you to add too as well.

He's only gonna add them to your existing playlist anyway.

He always has a pair of your favorite earbuds on him at all times in case you happen to forget yours that day.

He always as an extra connection link. During lunch you can escape to the roof or to the schoolyard and sit under a tree and listen to music together, leaning against each other.

He has to have chicken for lunch every day or he'll be cranky.

But he's really forgetful so it's become a habit that you prepare bento boxes for the both of you. You always fill his up with extra chicken.

He kinda lays in your lap curled up like a cat while you feed him the chicken.

He takes you out to the field behind the school for lunch every day. Not many people go back there. And during the springtime, the flowers are all in full bloom and he picks them and makes flower crowns or little bouquets of them he finds scattered about.

One day when you lay in the flower field after lunch and he's in your lap, he makes a promise to marry you when he's old enough.

He promises you that he won't have to work as a hero, he'll be safe, and he'll have all the free time in the world to spoil you rotten and snuggle all-day.

They first think that it's just lovey-dovey talking from the birb, but then Hawks sits up and gives them a deadly serious look and holds out his pinky to them for a promise.

He promises to protect you from this crazy dangerous society and one day be able to take care of them without any worries of anything or anyone. And you make that promise with him because he doesn't get serious like that often.

Soft forehead touches while he intertwines his hand with yours and you, in return, promise to be strong for him.

You promise to continue to cheer him on and believe in him till that promise becomes a reality.

He plans on buying you promise ring to wear as a necklace to forever remind them about those promises.

The ring is nothing expensive, just a cheap ring he got from a coin machine. But it holds more value than a diamond ever could.

He keeps it in his pocket and when they ask why he is so secretive the whole day when they sit in the flower field one afternoon, he asks them to close their eyes and he wraps the necklace around them and leans against their back, softly whispering to open their eyes again.

He feels bad that the ring isn't fancy or expensive and hopes they still like it anyways. He seals the promise with his softest kiss, it's so soft it almost felt as though he wasn’t there at all.

They well up in tears and they keep it to their chest and heart at all times. One of his delicate feathers is also bound to the necklace and sometimes they kiss it when they miss him at night.

He ends up crying a bit as well, pouring his entire heart and soul for you to see. He thanks you for being there, believing in him, trusting him, loving him. He confesses that you never leave his mind, everything he does is for you, you're his entire world and he'd do anything to make sure you're safe and happy with him till the end of time.

His wings are all puffed up and ruffled behind him because of all the emotions he's feeling. His love is so strong he can't control himself, he just cried and mumbles 'I love you' into your skin till he loses his breath.

You just hold him tightly and tell him you love him back every single time. Running your hands through his hair, feathers, up his back. Anything to calm him down.

It's you and him forever till the end of time and against anything that stands in your way. Together you’re stronger than anything, and are prepared for whatever troubles you may face once Keigo becomes a pro hero.

#bnha imagines #mha imagines #hawks imagine #keigo takami imagine #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks headcanon

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roselen-mylady · 4 years ago

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In Another Life

Bucky Barnes x reader ° part eleven

Summary: Waiting 88 years to find your soulmate? It was cruel. But it was a cruel fate Bucky would have to face whether he accepted it or not. Bucky was a tortured man all his life and he wasn't even granted the solace of having his soulmate at his side. All he had was the promise of one in another life. They were separated by two different times.

But the pain in their lives were connected.

Y/n had been alone ever since she could remember. All she could depend on was the soulmate that was destined to be at her side. Yet when the snap occurred she lost him.

And Bucky never got to meet her.

"Cap, what do you want me to do with this damn thing?" Clint cried, loud and frantic. Y/n followed close behind, covering him using the various weapons the suit came equipped with and some of her own additions.

"Get those stones as far away as possible!" Steve demanded. Y/n's helmet retracted as she turned, sharing a look with Clint and wondering what the best strategy on getting out of there was.

But before either of them could suggest a means of escape, Bruce's voice came over the comms. "No! We need to get them back where they came from." He argued. Clint's gaze moved to behind Y/n and he swiftly shifted his hold on the gauntlet, firing one of his arrows at a creature behind her.

"No way to get them back. Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel." Tony's voice cut in. The desolate space where the compound once stood was proof of that.

"Whatever we decide to do, we need to do it fast! We're sitting ducks out here!" Y/n called turning to take out another alien that had been drawn over to them like a beacon by the stones.

"Hold on!" Scott's voice rang out. "That wasn't our only time machine." Y/n groaned knowing where he was going with it as she narrowly avoided one of the incoming soldiers that appeared to be on their side.

"Scott, I swear if you mean that smelly ass van-" Y/n's swear was cut short by the out of place 'La Cucaracha' tune that echoed out over the battlefield. Clint merely chuckled beside her, doing his best to keep the stones out of the hands of the surrounding aliens.

"Anyone see an ugly, brown van out there?" Steve questioned. Y/n sent Clint an exasperated look to which he grinned at, his smile only growing as she glared at him.

"Yes! But you're not gonna like where it's parked!" A woman's voice answered.

"Scott, how long do you need to get that thing working?" Tony questioned. Y/n decided she'd have more of an advantage clearing Clint's path from the air and she hovered ahead of him, taking out as many of the strange creatures as she could.

"Maybe ten minutes." Scott replied.

"Get it started. We'll get the stones to you." Steve instructed. Clint motioned for Y/n to fire at one of his arrows and she nodded, directing the repulsor at the arrow he shot into a group of them.

"We're on it, Cap." A second woman's voice said.

"Y/n, get down here." Tony called suddenly. She was about to reply when one of the creatures jumped up grabbing her foot and dragging her to the ground. It pinned her down, it's hot breath seeming to waft through her helmet causing her to recoil in disgust.

"Uh, yeah. Give me a minute!" Y/n cried, grunting as she fought back, trying quickly to calculate how best to escape. Whipping around at the sound of her distress, Clint shot an arrow through its head making it fall limp upon her.

"Thanks." She said through gritted teeth as she forced the creature off. "Gross."

•••

Eventually Y/n managed to find Tony through the chaos of battle and landed down in front of him, letting her eyes drift to the man behind him. He wore a red cape and Y/n was about to question who the man was but stopped mid sentence as he pointed at her.

"You're here." He spoke as if recognizing her. Not only did he seem to know her, he appeared utterly defeated by her presence, even solemn. Yet before she could question his off-putting reaction, Tony grabbed her forearm, pulling her away. Her eyebrows furrowed and she retracted her helmet looking at him confused.

"Tony, are you okay?" She asked, concern etched into her features. Tony's expression was distraught as he looked around in a daze at the fight that raged on around them.

"The kid I told you about. The spider boy." Tony questioned though it sounded more like he was demanding something. She nodded, holding onto his upper arms as he grasped her forearms tightly.

"Yeah, what about him?" She asked, studying his darting eyes. She couldn't shake the feeling that he knew something she didn't and a knot started to form in her stomach as he struggled to piece together a sentence.

"He's-he's a lot like you. And after this he's going to need help, okay? From someone a lot like him, do you understand?" He told her urgently, his gaze drilling into her. His words rattled her and her eyes widened, unsettled.

"Tony, what are you talking about?" She pleaded, the knot in her stomach twisting tighter with each painful second that passed.

"Just take care of him, alright? If something happens…" His request trailed off. Y/n slipped out of his grasp, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing will happen, you'll be able to help him yourself." She promised. He didn't seem to take her word for it but nodded anyway for her sake.

"You're right...just-just promise me." Y/n could tell he was scared. He was terrified and all she could think to do was give him what he wanted. Reassurance.

"I promise." She swore to him, his eyes becoming more clear and focused as Y/n held onto his shoulders.

Her words seemed to calm him enough and Y/n offered a timid smile, unsure whether now was the time to give him a proper response like she would've if they hadn't been in the middle of a fight. But before she could even think about it further he turned, flying off to continue the battle.

Y/n watched him go, her heart contracting as his words echoed in her head. He wouldn't have placed the responsibility of his kid onto her shoulders if he didn't mean it and she felt sick to her stomach.

Please not again.

•••

"Y/n, where are you?" Clint called over the comms, his voice winded and heavy. Steve saw that he had managed to pass the gauntlet to T'Challa just in time for them to narrowly avoid Thanos' forces that were closing in on the stones.

He had been doing his best to keep the stones in sight but once hearing Clint, Steve's eyes also began to search for his friend wherever she may have been.

"I don't know. Where are you?" She replied after a few seconds of silence.

"Doesn't matter. I gave the stones to the cat guy, you gotta watch them!" Clint instructed.

Finally Steve had managed to find Y/n in his peripheral and he relaxed slightly watching as she began to lower herself to the ground. Yet before he could be put at ease, another being entered his vision, dangerously close to Y/n.

"Cat guy?"

"Y/n, watch out!" Steve suddenly cried in her comms. She whipped around too late to retract her foot in time. The large being had reached up, grabbing hold of her foot and dragging her down.

Y/n tried to release herself, firing her repulsors at the large creature but it did nothing as he tightened his grip on her boot and threw her into a mound of debris, obscuring her from Steve's sight.

"Y/n!" Steve yelled, beginning to run in her direction. Bucky noticed his friend's sudden panic and began running as well. Covering for his friend as he ran left Bucky behind, allowing Steve to reach Y/n first.

All at once, a series of blasts made Steve skid to a stop on the wreckage-covered ground. A forceful scream sounded from where Y/n was thrown and seconds later the being fell, multiple holes burned into its chest.

When Steve finally stepped around to see Y/n, the missile launcher on her shoulder was slowly powering down and folding back into her suit. "Y/n." Steve breathed watching with a concerned gaze as her suit shook slightly, mimicking her own trembling body.

Once her eyes landed on him, her helmet retracted exposing her terrified expression. Without another word, she shot up and threw her arms around his neck as she held onto him for dear life.

He held her back, sending Bucky a glance as she buried her face into his shoulder, rattled cries muffled by the material of his suit. Bucky froze reading Steve's wary gaze. Y/n had just opened up to him about her attack. It was too soon to throw Bucky right in front of her. It wasn't fair, he thought.

So Steve made him wait.

Again.

"Hey, hey it's alright."

"No. It's not alright. What am I doing here, Steve? I can't do this. Every time I think I can, I'm proven wrong! It's not me!" She broke down in his arms. Her entire life had turned upside down in a mere couple of days and as much as she wanted to walk it off like everyone else did, she couldn't. She wasn't built for it despite what the others thought. She wasn't a hero.

Tony believed she was and so had Steve. Even she had believed it all those years ago. But she was wrong and lost everything for it. And it only made her more angry at herself.

If the younger her had been put out there, she would've been eager to fight but now she couldn't. Maybe it was anxiety or even PTSD but either way it didn't matter. She wanted to believe she had another purpose other than to fight. And maybe she did. She'd helped people for years before ever getting a suit.

"It is you, Y/n. You have it in you to be a hero, you just need to accept it. I know it's scary but this fight-" Steve began with another speech but Y/n wasn't having it. She was tired of it. Tired of the wars and destruction. The world fought long before the Avengers were around and Y/n knew stopping it forever was impossible but she still wished it would. Was peace really that unreachable?

"Enough! Why does everything have to end in a fight? Why do people have to give up everything for a better world only to fail in the end?" She yelled, all her frustration and fear tumbling out of her mouth without restraint.

She hated herself for not being as strong willed but something deep down told her that this war wouldn't end well. She knew fighting Thanos was important and she was willing but at what cost? She'd lost her parents and mentor for nothing more than joining S.H.I.E.L.D and it terrified her to think what would be lost in order to restore the world.

How many more lives would be lost and could she handle it?

Steve watched her eyes fill with panicked and frustrated tears, unable to do anything to soothe her. He'd seen his friends break before and he was sure this wouldn't be the last time but something was different this time. Like Wanda had been at the beginning, Y/n was scared to accept her role in this battle. She was strong and smart, Steve knew that but Y/n was still scared and angry. She was still human.

Y/n struggled to reach that point where one accepts that they're a part of something bigger. It was something he had forced others to do and the guilt still ate at him inside but it was necessary.

It helped them grow.

"Because the most important things are worth fighting for. No matter how many times you have to do it." Steve replied finally, silencing the war in her head. He wanted so badly to take her out of it. He'd brought her back into this life after all, he owed her. But he couldn't. She was a part of this now and as much as she doubted herself, she was just like them. She had limits but she was powerful. He just needed to remind her.

"Look at what you did. Look how far you've come." He began, shifting her gently so she could look at the being now motionless on the ground where it'd fallen. She spared it a fleeting glance, focusing her stare back on Steve as she tried to put together what he was trying to say.

"You get knocked down but you always get back up, okay? You're one of the strongest people I know and even though you're scared it doesn't make you any less capable." His hands moved to her shoulders, gripping them tenderly. "You've been through so much and helped so many people. You're a hero even if you don't believe it. Even if you don't believe that fighting is helping- there's two sides to making the world better and I know you can do both."

Y/n studied his eyes, finding the familiar sincerity he always wore. So comforting and so safe. She was tired of being something she wasn't but what if all this time she was meant to be here? Meant to fight the fight no one wanted to. Meant to lose it all for a cause greater than herself.

Meant to be a hero.

"I need you to fight with me right now. I know you can do this." He pleaded, sending a short look to Bucky. He was yards away, just out of earshot but close enough to insure their protection. Bucky was always fighting the bigger fight and as much as it hurt him, Steve needed Y/n to do the same. "Please."

Fear still grasped at her heart but she knew she needed to do something. She couldn't run from this like she had so many times before. She had to fight and maybe just maybe if she fought hard enough, she could prevent the catastrophe she knew lingered around the corner.

"We need a vacation."

Steve paused, unsure if he'd heard her right. "What?"

"We need a vacation, after all of this. Somewhere warm and beachy." Y/n explained, a bittersweet smile curving on her lips as she looked up at him. She was still terrified, that much was certain but she was willing to push it aside. Willing to be half the hero Steve was, no matter what cost she feared she'd face.

Her request was pitiful but certainly one that gave them hope, something to hold onto. "A beach it is." Steve smiled.

Before he could say another word, Y/n had broken free of his hold, pacing a few feet away from him. A look of determination had taken hold of her features, deciding she needed to act before her nerves overcame her again.

Offering one more soft smile, her helmet closed, the eye slits lit up with the familiar white glow. Her thrusters engaged and she was in the air once more.

She caught herself much quicker this time with the added power of her hand thrusters and took off toward where F.R.I.D.A.Y had informed her the stones were. Steve watched a moment longer, hearing Bucky jog up beside him.

"Who was that?" He asked, watching the woman fly off into the war that was unfolding. Steve's smile still lingered though he was worried.

"Someone special." Steve replied. Bucky turned to him with a thoughtful gaze, unable to take his eyes off Steve's tender expression.

•••

Dodging the open fire upon the surface from Thanos' ship was difficult but keeping track of the stones all the while was nearly impossible. Yet Y/n was able to manage finding the stones in the hands of the very boy she'd swore to protect.

"Help! Somebody help!" He cried, his pleas echoing through her comms. Her headset quickly homed in on the source, making her alter her trajectory in his direction.

"Thruster power is critically low." F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke suddenly, displaying the power level in front of Y/n. Her eyes widened, trying to pay attention to her flight pattern despite the panic rising in her chest.

"And you wait until now to tell me?!" Y/n shouted.

"Your usage of the micro-missiles used up a lot of energy. Keep in mind this suit is just a prototype."

"Hold on, kid!" Y/n called, ignoring F.R.I.D.A.Y and using what was left of her thruster power to launch herself toward the Spiderboy. "F.R.I.D.A.Y is it possible to use the power from my armor?"

"It is possible but you won't be able to take multiple hits." The A.I. explained. Y/n chose not to answer, debating her choices. Either transfer power and avoid all hits or possibly survive future attacks with no means of escape or counterattacks.

The pile of alien soldiers continued to grow in the few seconds it took her to catch up and without a moment to lose she dove in, snatching the boy up in her arms as she allowed her suit to take over. "F.R.I.D.A.Y light 'em up!" She called. The action would definitely burn through what was left of the power but she didn't care.

"Activating 'Firework Protocol'." F.R.I.D.A.Y acknowledged Y/n's new protocol, spanning open the panels in the back of the suit. The advanced micro lasers she'd installed was the only light in the huddle of alien mass around them as the red lasers powered on.

Y/n's hold on the boy's head tightened and she pulled him close, trying to ensure he wouldn't be another victim of her suit as it fired at the beings atop them. He held the gauntlet desperately, stealing a glance up at her as the aliens began to fall around them.

"Power level 2% percent." F.R.I.D.A.Y informed.

"Transfer power from armor now!" Y/n called, shifting her hold on the boy to under his arms. As she'd commanded, F.R.I.D.A.Y put the shield power Y/n had preserved earlier into thrusters. It was a temporary fix but all she could think of.

"Hold on!" Her shout came hurried and Peter barely had any time to process it before they were in the air, his metallic spider legs flailing frantically. "You alright, kid?!" She called over the rush of air, peering down at him as they shot across the chaos towards Scott's van.

"Huh? Yeah, yeah I'm okay! I'm Spider-Man! Nice to meet you– OH, MY GOD!" The boy rambled, screeching as they served away from one of the large flying creatures that grew threateningly near.

However in the attempt to avoid one danger they'd entered another and Y/n's suit was struck but Thanos' ship, causing them to fall back down to the earth. And while she did everything in her power to move the boy to avoid direct impact, his groan still alerted her that he'd taken a rough hit.

She herself was struggling to recover, her headset glitching as the suit tried to reform after the hit. As F.R.I.D.A.Y had warned, the suit's armor level significantly decreased, alerting her that another hit like that would be fatal. The nanotechnology was strong but her decision to transfer power from her armor was quickly regretted.

In her daze she felt the boy tug her, pulling her back toward him as he cradled the stones against his chest. The intensity of Thanos' canons rattled the ground and Y/n found herself unable to focus on anything else. Sound was muted and her sense of touch seemed dulled. Maybe it was the aftermath of falling from midair in a metal container.

How had Tony survived this long?

Then suddenly it stopped. It all stopped. The strikes upon the battle were instantly directed to another target and much to her body's protest, Y/n sat up looking toward the skies. She could hear her peers struggling to figure out the source of Thanos' fire but it was all blurred.

"Mild concussion and multiple contusions detected." F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke, making Y/n groan as she looked over at the Spiderboy.

"Kid, you okay?" She called, making him peek out from his fetal position against the huge rock they'd taken cover behind. His nose was bleeding and his eyes were red but otherwise he seemed alright.

He nodded, still dazed himself as he eyed her curiously. "Hey, uh, who are you? I mean thank you for saving me but-" He trailed off, his eyes lingering on the suit. Why had she been wearing one of Mr. Stark's suits?

"I'm Y/n. Or uh- Iron Star." Y/n explained, still reluctant toward the name. "Tony gave me the suit in case things went wrong." She explained, climbing to her feet clumsily as dizziness shook through her body. "Guess they did."

"I'm Peter by the way. Peter Parker." He introduced, hugging the gauntlet strangely as he watched her regain her footing.

Y/n smiled softly, putting out her hand for the battered boy. "It's very nice to meet you, Peter." He accepted her hand, climbing to his feet carefully, the gauntlet still tight within his grasp.

Suddenly their moment was cut short by the sound of a heavy force hitting the ground behind them. Y/n whipped around, unsure whether said force was a threat but much to her surprise, a woman was standing there, a kind smile on her lips.

"Hi. I'm- Peter Parker. This is Y/n." Peter spoke up, making Y/n glance back at him. Did he always introduce everyone during a fight or was he just in shock?

"Hey, you two. You got something for me?" The woman asked, slightly entertained by Peter's manner. At this he exchanged a look with Y/n, both sharing a short nod before passing over the stones to the woman.

"I don't know how you're gonna get it through all that." Peter's voice came tender and weak as he pointed his gaze toward the mess that was Thanos' forces. He was right, it seemed like it would be an impossible feat but if Y/n knew anything, it was that a woman's strength was nothing to be trifled with.

Especially someone with the same determined eyes Nat had.

"Don't worry." A woman with long red locks assured him, landing down beside the first woman.

"She's got help." A second woman added.

Another suit similar to Y/n's landed beside them, her helmet dissolving to reveal a woman she recognized as Pepper Potts. Soon a variety of different women emerged, standing together without an ounce of fear or intimidation from the force before them.

Y/n watched amazed as they set forward, a painful ping in her heart as she thought of Nat. Black Widow deserved to be there, fighting among the most powerful women Y/n had ever seen. But Nat had made the greatest sacrifice of all, displaying heroism like no one ever could. And for that Natasha was the strongest.

As she grabbed Peter once more, she wondered if she could be like that. Could she set aside her fear like so many around her had? Like she had tried so many times before?

Her friends believed she could.

With the stones safely transferred, Y/n took off with Peter wanting him as far away from the most intense part of the war as possible. Yet before they could get too far, an overwhelming surge of energy exploded behind them, sending them crashing back down to the ground.

Peter had fallen somewhere along the way, leaving Y/n alone once more as she tumbled to the dirt, landing a few feet away from the stones.

Before she could even process what had happened, Tony entered her hazy vision calling out to her frantically. "Get the stones!" He screamed, running past her. Her gaze followed him, her mind not yet understanding his plea. Yet when she caught sight of another being, her mind instantly cleared. It was a being she'd only heard about but one she knew to fear.

Thanos.

Y/n scrambled to her feet, grabbing the gauntlet urgently as she began to run, her balance still unsteady. But despite her head start, she'd only gotten a couple of feet before Tony flew past her, spamming into the earth with a groan.

She didn't dare stop but it didn't matter. A large hand gripped her leg, yanking it harshly from under her. Her body collapsed but her hold of the gauntlet stayed secure as Thanos dragged her toward him.

"No! Let me go, you freak!" She screamed, firing her repulsors at him but it was no use. He towered above her, his clenched fist inches from her face but before he could strike her, another hand grabbed her pulling her free.

"Go, Lady Y/n!" Thor spoke, stepping in front of her. She nodded quickly, clutching the gauntlet impossibly tighter as she spirited away.

She could hear the others struggling behind her to keep Thanos at bay and as much as she wanted to help them she knew it was vital that she got away with the stones. Yet try as she might her thrusters wouldn't budge.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, I kinda need my thrusters to work! Now!" She cried, the sound of Thanos' footsteps growing too close for comfort.

"The suit's power is draining too fast. Using thrusters risks the suit losing all power."

"Dammit, why'd Tony give me a prototype?!" Y/n cried, retracting her helmet in a pathetic attempt at making running easier.

Then she did something stupid. Something someone with the IQ of 280 would know better than to do.

She looked back.

And the sight she was met with was frightening.

Tony, Steve and Thor, all of which had tried to stop Thanos, were on the ground along with anyone else who got in-between him and Y/n. Even his own soldiers were being pummeled as he stormed through them, quickly advancing on Y/n.

Her race away instantly broke out into a terrified dash, running for the lives of everyone including herself.

But she wasn't fast enough.

His horrible hand wrapped around her once more, this time plucking her up from the ground as he began to pull the gauntlet from her arms. She fought his grip, kicking and squirming like a fish on a hook but when she didn't let go of the gauntlet, Thanos shifted his hold to her throat, squeezing her windpipe. With no other choice she choked a single command.

"Unibeam."

"Firing the unibeam will use what is left of your power. You'll be defenseless." F.R.I.D.A.Y objected. Y/n considered the A.I.'s warning. Doing this would leave her vulnerable and possibly even immobile. But she couldn't let him take the stones.

"Do it!" Y/n rasped.

Thanos recoiled as Y/n's chest lit up, firing an intense blast straight at him. His moment of weakness allowed her to escape his hold, gasping for the air she'd been denied. The stones had clambered down next to her and she quickly reached out to grab them but before she could, Thanos' foot slammed on her arm making her scream out in pain.

Agonizing pain shot through her arm but just as quickly as the pressure had been forced on her arm it was removed and Y/n quickly brought her arm back to her chest, rolling onto her back.

She could make out the woman from before battling Thanos a few feet away but her senses were dulled as numbness flooded her body. She wanted to writhe around the ground but she could hardly feel her arm anymore let alone the rest of her body.

Was this what it was like being a hero? Being forced to your very limit but knowing you had to get back up? How did one do it?

Her gaze drifted to those around her. Steve was running toward them, shouting something Y/n could hear. The familiar worry creased his brow and even a bit of rage had taken hold of his features but Y/n could make sense of what infuriated him so, only allowing her gaze to move to Tony.

He crawled a couple feet away, his eyes elsewhere as she watched him. His expression was that of dismay and sorrow. She wanted to call out to him, to say something that would fix this. But nothing could be said.

Like Steve had told her, there were two ways to make the world better and right now she needed to fight.

With a pained grunt she sat up, struggling to climb to her feet with her shattered arm. Tony mimicked her, glancing at her with unreadable eyes. They shared a look, one that expressed their worries but also told each other how grateful they were for each other.

Then they both launched forward, Y/n's suit moving with greater difficulty now that it was running off of her alone. Tony immediately latched onto the stones trying his best to keep Thanos from snapping his fingers while Y/n dug her hands under the gauntlet, pulling at it desperately.

It was a weak attack and when Thanos swatted them away, Y/n's heart nearly stopped.

He was going to do it. He was going to snap the world away and there was nothing they could do.

"I am– inevitable." Thanos spoke, lifting his hand menacingly as everyone watched in horror.

When the snap rang out Y/n flinched, closing her eyes as she readied herself for whatever nightmare awaited them. But nothing happened.

Her eyes peeled open, registering the same confusion she felt on Thanos's face. She almost exhaled, relieved that he didn't have the stones but upon following his stare, she was faced with an equally alarming sight.

Tony had risen to his knees, his own hand lifted in front of him as he stared down Thanos. The stones slowly crept up his forearm, merging with his suit like they had to the gauntlet. Once each was in place the energy became too much, coursing through him like a deadly poison.

"And I– am– Iron Man." Tony grunted, bracing himself for the worst. Y/n could barely get out a hysteric shout before he was lining up his fingers for what would be his last action.

Time seemed to stop and before he could do what she feared he would, Y/n gave a final attempt to stop the tragedy she knew would happen. Without a moment of hesitation she threw out her arm, ignoring the agony from her broken bones as the snap rang out.

Her fingers had just barely brushed his arm but it was enough to knock her back several feet, smashing her battered body into a large pile of debris.

Her ears rang and her brain felt like it was rattling inside her skull. Her vision was quickly fading but in what little time she had left before it faded, she was able to make out Steve falling to his knees beside her and tugging her into his arms.

Then it all went dark.

Part twelve

Taglist

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years ago

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Five [PT. 1]

Part Eighty-Five [PT. 2]

Words: 5.5k

Warning(s): explicit language, explicit sexual situations, mentions of drug abuse

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NIKKI

My lawyer looks completely unimpressed with my lack of shoes, shirt, and dignity as he leans back in his chair behind his desk, rubbing his temples.

"It doesn't work like that, Nikki, I'm afraid." He informs me finally, sitting up and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk.

"I was declared dead for two minutes. I died. My wife's technically a widow."

"You can't annul a four year marriage on the basis of 'I died for two minutes.' Some cases of actual death, it can take an act of congress for widow or widower to have an annulment for a marriage where their spouse is no longer alive, legitimately." He explains and I roll my eyes.

"So, what, I just get some divorce papers or something?"

"Unless I declare mental incapacity given that you went through a traumatic series of events within the last twenty-four hours and this could possibly be a very serious lapse in judgement." He argues and I stare at him.

"Stop pulling my dick."

"I'm not 'pulling your dick.' I just don't want you to make this decision and then regret it when your head clears."

I managed to wear him down and by the next morning, he left the papers by Tommy's door after Vince mentioned to me that Viv stayed over there with Tommy and Heather.

When I get home, Karen opens the door and looks at me, wide eyed and confused.

"H-Hey?" She says as I push past her and go to the phone, opting to change my answering machine.

"Hey, it's Nikki." I say. "I'm not here because I'm dead."

Karen just looks at me, astounded, and I go to my room, slamming the door.

I was good and tired and glutton for punishment because I got home that night and loaded up the biggest shot of smack I could muster and pulled the trigger.

I wake up with a sharp pain in the crook of my arm, a needle still in my skin as blood trails my forearm to collect in my palm...Jesus fucking Christ, I've officially lost it.

I take the needle out and force myself up to trudge to the living room to check my messages.

Things like, "You're an asshole," and "that's not funny," tend to be the common theme.

I guess I need to change my answering machine.

I comb through to see if I have anything from Viv.

Now would be a good time to hear her bitch me out for almost making her kill herself--because, lets face it, she's gonna blame it on me, anyway.

Nothing's found, though.

"Fuck, Vivian." I sigh out, sitting on the carpet in the living room, rubbing my forehead as a new message comes on…

"You fucker, you would be the one to fucking OD and die and then get up right after and file for divorce as if she doesn't have enough shit going on, already."

I furrow my brows at the voice.

"Axl the Twat?" I say aloud, confused, as he finishes with, "fuck you, you fucking fuck."

He hangs up and I raise my brows.

Did I die and wake up in a parallel universe? Axl defending Vivian?

Is this hell?

It cuts to the last message.

"Hey, umm...I don't know if you'll get this or not or if…" Vanity. "...I don't know what's going on but I heard something terrible on the radio and I suppose it was true--well, kind of, um…" she sighs. "We're not together anymore and I get that I just hope you're o--"

"Fuck that." I grumble, hitting delete.

I fall back and I look up at myself.

It's fucked that I bought this fucking house for Viv, and she's not even staying in it anymore.

I feel like I promised her so much and haven't given a damn thing to her except reasons to want to throw herself off of balconies.

I look down at my arm, dried blood still on my skin.

I'm fucking tired of this shit.

I let my complete exhaustion of being sick fuel me to dig through everything I own and throw out all of my rigs, any other drugs in my path, and even pour everything to get drunk off of down the sink--even the fucking cooking-wine.

Vivian's somewhere catching the holy spirit, probably, just sensing I'm finally fucking done.

Or she's somewhere in tears over me finally taking the final step to end our relationship.

I feel like it's dead in every way aside from legal.

Whisky's laying by the door, whining when I step over him to go throw the big garbage bag out.

I'd get down there and whine for her, too, but I know this is what needs to be done.

Our entire relationship has just been one giant clusterfuck, and I don't want to put her through the bullshit of having to try to forgive me and trust me, again.

I think I've already stolen enough of her peace of mind.

She'll be happier with Duff, anyway. He's a good guy. A hell of a lot more suited for her than I am.

My hand rubs the back of my neck and I realize I'm still wearing the small crucifix of her's.

I'm tempted not to give it back.

I just sigh and throw the trash out and get back in the house, getting in the shower.

When I get out, I ruffle a towel through my hair, seeing the light blinking on my answering machine.

I go over and try to keep myself from getting too excited at the thought of it being Viv before I hit play on my messages.

"Nikki, it's Doc. I know you feel like horseshit right about now but I need you to come down to the office at 5:00p.m., we're getting you guys together because we need to talk. See you then--preferebly kinda sober and coherent."

Turns out I'll have my ass chewed by Doc before Viv, after all.

I know he came down to the hospital and tore Slash and the guys new ones while I was unconscious.

I'm digging in my garbage for a couple pills to dull down my future shakes that I just know are gonna be coming before sundown.

Despite being not in shape to fucking drive anywhere, I still go because I know if I don't go, Doc will come here and I don't need him here.

It's morbid walking into the office to see Vince, Tommy, and Mick sitting and waiting for me while Doc sits behind his desk.

"Fuck me." I complain out loud, dreading what Doc's about to go on about.

"Sit." Doc tells me and I plop down beside Tommy, sighing, and Doc waits a minute before saying, "I canceled the European tour."

"What?" Vince asks and Mick furrows his brows.

"What the fuck, Doc--"

"--Shut the fuck up and listen." He cuts me off while Tommy nervously shakes his leg. "If you bastards go to Europe, one of you will come back in a body bag. And I'm not gonna be the fucking manager that runs Mötley Crüe into the ground." He states harshly.

"That's a fucking first." I laugh out, meanly, and Doc glares at me. "Guess dead rockstars don't make as much money as alive ones, huh? I coulda told ya that after Razzle--"

"--Nikki." Mick states.

"Where's my wife?" I snap next.

"Oh, the one you so stupidly filed for divorce from without giving me a heads up first? Probably with her friends that haven't put her through the ringer and fucked her over time and time again." He states.

"I didn't know I needed permission to make decisions in my personal life--that have nothing to do with Mötley Crüe."

"Are you two just gonna argue or are we gonna actually talk about why we're here because I have things to do." Vince grumbles.

"Tommy came to me and told me he's thinking about rehab." Doc tells us and I glance at Tommy, who's avoiding looking at anybody. "I'm not taking Mötley Crüe on tour again, in a studio, whatever, until you guys get your act together."

We all look at each other, exhaling, and I rub my lips together.

"Fine." Vince sighs, and Doc looks at Tommy.

He nods.

"Nikki?" Doc asks and I just stare at him.

The guys are gone in a few minutes, leaving just me and Doc and I stand up.

"I wanna see Viv." I tell Doc as he digs through some files, and he looks up and blinks from behind his desk,

"She said she's not seeing you until you get help." Doc states.

"She says that but I bet I could find her tonight and still get her under me in less than three minutes."

"Assuming she's not still under Duff." Doc says and I tense up. "You think I didn't notice how questionably close they got on tour?" He adds.

"She's going through a crisis." I reply.

"Can't imagine why." He mumbles.

"Just tell me where she's at, Doc." I snap.

"You look like shit. You need to go home and get some fuckin' rest because you're all checking in tomorrow afternoon." He adds.

"I'm not going anywhere until I see my wife."

"You mean the wife you filed for divorce from?" He questions and I roll my jaw. "Your wife is resting. You should, too."

1981

I fumble for my key to the apartment, cussing under my breath when I can't get the door opened.

"Motherfucker." I hiss, finally getting it unlocked and shoving it open…

I slam it shut and toss my keys across the room, hearing Tommy and Vince's room door creak open.

Vivian crosses her arms, a scowl on her face, her hair tousled from sleep.

"Could you be any louder?" She snaps, shutting the door behind her, going to the kitchen.

My eyes run up and down her long legs as she heads that way, only in one of Tommy's t-shirts and panties.

Fuck. Me.

I go to grab the bottle of Jack on the counter, taking a sip as she gulps some water down, a droplet escaping the glass as she drinks, rolling down her chin to her neck and I watch it, my burning throat getting dry as I try to pull myself together, my prick starting to push against my pants.

Damnit.

It's like the sane part of myself is trying to slap the hopelessly horny part of me.

She's fucking evil, dude, fuck off, I tell myself.

She's hot.

You hate each other.

I wonder what weird shit she's into in bed.

She's a bitch. You know she's a bitch. Leave her alone.

Oh, I forgot she's supposedly a virgin.

Go to bed, dumbfuck. GO TO BED.

That means I get to watch her experience stuff for the first time.

I end up chuckling, amused at the thought of seeing her pretty eyes roll in her head as pleasure bombards her for the first time.

"What?" She snaps, and I realize I've been staring at her.

I'm about to answer until I get caught up at the sight of her nipples peering through her shirt...fuck me.

"Nikki," she shoves at my shoulder, making me take my eyes off of her chest.

She just scoffs.

"Go touch yourself in the bathroom or something. Jesus." She puts the glass down and walks past me to go back to Tommy's room.

See? Evil.

I ignore the voice of reason and I catch her wrist and stop her, yanking her closer to me.

She looks like a deer in headlights for a minute before I'm grabbing at her hair closest to her neck and pulling her to me, kissing her.

It's a pretty clean kiss, no tongue, no mess, just testing the waters.

She doesn't push me away or beat me up like I always thought she would do, instead, when I pull away for a moment, she takes a breath, wide eyed, before grabbing me by my jacket, pulling me back in.

I'm surprised but I don't let it get in the way, taking lead a little to guide her.

For someone who's never been kissed before (again, allegedly) she's not awful at it like I expected--well, I didn't expect her to be awful because she's never kissed anybody, I expected her to be awful because she's so mean to me.

Her hands push my jacket off my shoulders and I push my tongue past her lips, coaxing a quiet moan from her.

Holy shit.

My hands go to her ass and she grasps at my hair as I pick her up, her legs wrapping around me.

Just to see if we're on a standard starting basis of common interests, I lift one of my hands and bring it back down, not too hard, but hard enough, and she hums, fucking biting my bottom lip and grinding into me a couple times.

I have to keep from creaming my pants just by her moving against me.

You're being stupid, I tell myself, but I can't bring myself to leave her alone now.

She's been the forbidden fruit or whatever for months now and I just gotta have it.

I take her to my room and kick the door shut with my foot, taking her to the shitty mattress on the floor.

I drop her onto it, seeing her in the glow of streetlights.

"Take your shirt off." I say, lowly, and she rubs her lips together and slowly pulls it over her head, her bare chest exposed and my dick's practically throbbing at this point.

I take her crucifix in my hand, and she looks down at it as I lick my lips.

She unfastens it and throws it aside.

I lean down and kiss her again, trailing down her neck, my tongue against her skin and she gasps out a sharp breath, her hands pulling at my shirt.

I take it off and she's sitting up and running her palms over my shoulders, down my chest, and I grasp her around her throat, pushing her back to the mattress and I feel a little shiver go up her spine.

My tongue circles one of her nipples and she lets out bated breaths as I take it between my teeth.

She moans, loudly, and I move my hand to her mouth.

"Shh!" I say. "You're gonna wake them up." I add and she nods.

I do the same to her other breast, with my hand over her mouth, but then I get an idea.

A glorious, completely selfish idea.

I take my hand off of her mouth and smirk before kissing the middle of her chest, one of her top ribs, biting into it, hard, making her scratch at my shoulder while covering her own mouth as a sharp moan is forced from her.

I run my tongue over the bite mark and continue down her stomach, stopping at the top of her panties, glancing at her.

She's still breathing heavy, hands covering her chest, tilting her head to see me.

I run my hand over her clothed core, a little noise coming from her throat, feeling a big wet spot over her cunt.

She lifts her hips and starts pulling them down and I take them and discard them, running my fingertips up the inside of her thigh before I rub my thumb around her clit that's slickened wet.

Her hands jolt to mine between her legs, her back arching, trying her hardest not to be loud.

I tug her to the edge of the mattress, and grab one of her hands, replacing mine with it before I'm looming over her for a moment. "Touch yourself." I tell her, my lips brushing against hers and I can tell she's blushing under the dark of the room. "C'mon, it's hot, just do what feels good." I add, my lips pressing against hers for a moment before I feel her hand move, a delicate gasp coming from her and I pull my lips from hers to watch her face.

Her eyes close, her head tilts back while her other hand tangles in her hair.

I stand up to take my pants off, grabbing at my painfully hard cock when she bucks her hips against her frail fingers.

"Nikki," she says, eyes still shut, head back, and I rub my hands down my face.

We haven't even fucked yet and I can already tell she's gonna make me a fucking idiot.

I get my pants off and run my thumb over my tip and get some precum on it, leaning down and holding it up to her lips.

"Hold your tongue out," I tell her and she opens her eyes and looks at me, before doing as I say.

The pad of my thumb rubs it over her tongue and she lets out a satisfied sigh, looking up at me as I lick her spit off my thumb.

I get back up on my feet for a moment and she gets up and crawls to the foot of the bed, her eyes on my prick, hunger in her eyes…

Nice try, evil bitch, you're not stealing my soul by sucking it through my dick.

I grab her hair and make her look at me.

"Lay down." I tell her and doesn't argue, eyes still ravenous…

I kiss up her kneecap to her thigh, sliding up and up until--

"Oh, fuck!" She whimpers out when my tongue swirls her clit around, getting the first taste of Saint Viv.

My eyes are the ones to roll back, now.

Holy shit.

It's good because she's Satan and needs something to trap you with, that little voice comes back.

Her hands find my hair, her lips find my name and if I don't get ahold of myself, I'll be finding God based on this experience alone.

Apparently she's finding him right now because all she can muster out is, "oh, God."

I find a good rhythm with my tongue, her pussy starting to grind against my face as teasing, little sultry moans flutter through the room.

After a minute I feel her body tense up, and I pat myself on the back as she comes, my tongue lapping at her entrance to get drunk off of her, my hands running over her stomach and thighs.

Vivian claims we just went right into sex without doing anything aside from making out before hand but I distinctly remember going down on her. She must've blacked out once she realized we were about to fool around or something but I remember that happening because it was something I'd dreamed up doing ever since I met her, creepy but honest.

I pry myself from her to grab a rubber behind the head of the mattress, the both of us pulling ourselves up there.

I get it on and turn over, getting on top of her.

She's already hooking her legs around me before I even line myself up with her.

She looks like she's high or drunk, eyes nearly shut, her lip between her teeth, her head tilted slightly, exposing her neck.

I lean down and kiss her neck, her skin damp with sweat and she sighs.

I rub my tip against her opening and she closes her eyes.

I push into her, having to coach myself through because fuck her pussy is tight, and she winces, her mouth opening but nothing coming out. I'm about to ask her if she's alright when she speaks first.

"Take it off." She tells me.

"What?"

"The condom, take it off."

"Are you trying to trap me or something?" I snap at her.

"I wanna feel you." She tells me softly, and I guess it's kinda sweet, or primal, whatever.

I pull out of her and take the condom off, dropping it by the bed before I'm pushing back into her.

We both moan, and I can feel her body stretching to accommodate my entrance, her face showing pain.

I pullout again, but before I can get out completely, she pulls me back in with her legs, letting out a high pitched breath.

More of her juices coat over my cock.

"Fuck, Vivian," I say it, thrusting into her again and she wraps her arms around my back, hugging me to her, and my lips find hers as I push into her again, and again, roughly, the feeling of heaven washing over me each time I go back inside her.

I make her take every inch, forcing myself to fit the last inch and a half despite her body not having room, and she writhes underneath me.

"I think I'm bleeding." She tells me breathlessly and I think she wants me to back off or get off her, but when I go to, she says, "No, keep going, it feels good."

The look on her face is a clear indication that she's into it.

I'm kind of shocked that churchy Vivian is into the same shit I'm into, and I grab her throat, again, and kiss her, our tongues moving together.

"I wanna get on top next." She tells me through moans.

"Why?" I ask.

"I wanna see it." She says and I furrow my brows for a second before I catch on.

I'm rolling off of her and onto my back, my hands running up her thighs and waist when she gets on top of me, and I grab myself as she straddles me, pushing it against her before my hands pull her down onto me.

She screws her eyes shut, as she sinks down to the hilt, her thighs shaking, and I hit her ass cheek as hard as I can and she gets so tight around me I can't pull out until she relaxes.

"You can't do that shit." I tell her harshly, biting back my urge to go ahead and come, and she relaxes a little more as my hands hold at her waist, guiding her movements since she's never done this before.

"Does it feel good?" I ask her, her little moans and whimpers getting me even more hot and bothered.

"Yes," she nods, tipping her head back. "So good."

I look between us, clear view of her pussy taking it, and I sigh.

"It looks good, too." I tell her and she leans down over me, her forehead against my chest as she watches me fuck her for a moment before looking at me, kissing me sloppily, her chest pressing against mine making her sigh when her nipples brush against my skin.

When she pulls away, I'm sticking two fingers in her mouth, taking her by surprise but she starts sucking on them in a second, and I force them down her throat, making her gag, as I start pounding into her, making her nearly shriek out but I gag her with my hand around her throat.

"You're so pretty." I tell her, spit all down her chin from choking on my fingers, eyes nearly shut, my hand around her throat, and I glance down between us, licking my lips. "That pussy's pretty, too." I add and she cries out when my other hand starts rubbing at her clit.

I take my hand from her throat and she gasps for air.

"Nikki, I'm--"

She can't finish.

I roll onto her again, getting on my knees and lift her hips, continuing to hammer into her roughly and her eyes go to the back of her head, as her cum soaks the both of us.

Why the fuck didn't she tell me she can come like that?

I feel myself reaching my own end and go to pull out but she tugs me onto her, kissing me, her legs snaking around me.

At first I don't think she realizes I'm about to blow my kids everywhere, then when I try to pullout, she says, "do it in me, I've heard it feels good."

I look at her like she's crazy because it's something I'd never expect her to say.

"Please, Nikki, let me have it."

I don't have time to argue because I'm finishing with a grunt and a satisfied smile at the sight of tears of pleasure in her eyes before her lids screw shut, her mouth open as a moan leaves her, her body sparking off with shivers.

I let her have it.

"You're a slut." I tell her, thrusting into her a couple more times and she hums at my words.

"Shut up." She says next and I kiss her one last time before rolling off of her.

She pulls the covers over her chest and closes her eyes, tired, and I watch her for a moment.

Okay, she may not be a slut, but I know she's gonna be able to get away with murder and I'm gonna let her because she's fucking Vivian.

I ran myself into my own grave, but heroin and Vivian were major catalysts, but I know I was a catalyst for her own rock bottom, too. We were just too fucking young to know better, I guess. We fell in love and got hooked on playing house without actually stopping to think what all it would look like. Of course, neither of us expected me to be on smack, neither of us expected me to reach the level of stupidity that I reached with Vanity, and neither of us expected her to be conceiving a lovechild while I was next door dying, and I certainly didn't expect to file for divorce first, if at all. I remember that first night together in that shitty apartment got me hooked on her. Not just sex, I actually started listening to what she had to say after that, and wanting to have conversations, and hangout...I fell in love and she made it easy for me to. It was like boiling a frog. Things got worse and worse slowly overtime until BAM! I had Vanity, crack, and junk, and Vivian had Duff and a secret savings account she didn't think our lawyer would get record of. I was pissed, but I knew it was my fault.

All of it was.

I had promised her the world and instead stole everything from her like a life-sucking demon.

She wasn't the evil, manipulative bitch.

I was.

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug

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