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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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Amoreena | Chapter two

Chapter Two

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 6k

a/n: this is set May 2021 in my brain just in case anyone was wondering while reading it !! here is the pinterest board and the spotify playlist for the fic too!

from the beginning <3

They were sitting on the steps of the Smithsonian when he arrived. Y/N was a vision in a yellow blouse and blue jeans, basking in the sun's rays when she looked more like sunshine herself, throwing seed at the birds with Amoreena.

He took a deep breath and smiled, waving to get their attention.

“Spencer!” Amoreena cheered, running down the steps and into his arms. Almost knocking her hat off as she leapt into his arms.

“Oof,” is all he can say as he makes sure to catch her, surprised to get this sort of reaction from someone.

She fixes her hat and leans back in his arms, “do you like my outfit? I’m the old man from Tarzan and mom is Jane!”

He sets her down then, watching her stick a foot out so he can get a good look at her olive-coloured jean shorts, button-up shirt and blue bowtie and brown boots. She went all out for her adventure today, making his heart burst.

“I looked into that Milo guy,” he says, showing off his own outfit. Pushing his glasses up and adjusting his red bowtie.

“You look just like him!!!” She was beyond excited, turning to Y/N who was all smiles on the steps.

She stood as they walked towards her, “mom look, he’s Milo!”

“You look great,” she complimented him, that twinkle in her eyes back as she blushed.

“Thank you, so do you,” he said softly. “Both of you are dressed for the right adventure today.”

“What do you have in store Mr. tour guide?” Y/N teased, taking Amoreena’s hand and walking into the museum.

“Dr. Tour guide,” he corrects her softly, making her smile and shove him lightly.

“Sorry,” she teased him, “Doctor tour guide, what is your plan for today?”

“I bought 3 tickets ahead of time,” Spencer admits, taking three lanyards out of his jacket pocket and handing them each one. “We have special access today, just show the guards these and we can go almost anywhere.”

“Are you sure you don’t work here? Not even undercover?” Amoreena interrogated him, narrowing her eyes as she watched his response.

He laughed, “I promise, I helped them on a case once, and my old boss knows the curator, they owed me a favour.”

“Old boss?” Y/N catches it.

He nods lightly, “he quit a while ago to have a family.”

“Smart man.”

“I sent in my letter of resignation last night,” he adds, “if you’re still looking for a literary historian?”

She beamed at him, reaching out an arm to tuck under his and pull him in close. Following him through the doors with Amoreena’s hand still in hers. “I’ll arrange an interview this week.”

The rotunda was one of the coolest parts of the Smithsonian Museum of National History. A beautiful African Bush Elephant greets them in the centre, tusks extending out towards them as Amoreena gasps.

“Wow,” her small voice whispers.

“Cool, huh?” Spencer leans to look at her expression, she’s absolutely gobsmacked.

It makes him smile, that beautiful glimmer of amazement spreading across her face as her small brain tries to understand what exists in the world outside of her mind's grasp. It was priceless, he loved every moment.

“So, I was thinking you could look around and whenever you’re ready, we have access to the Student Centre. You’re going to get to look at some special bones and fossils, and even dig some up!” He was so excited to share the plans with her.

She let go of her mom's hand to flap her arms wildly, excitement coursing through her veins as she shook, grinding her teeth together as she smiled, it was how he remembered feeling as a child when something good happened. Pure joy, excitement level 1000.

“Sound good?”

“Spencer,” Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder, taking over for the speechless child, “that sounds perfect, thank you.”

“The Dino’s are this way,” he leads them down the corridor, through a set of doors towards a large swirling sign,

“Journey through deep time!” Y/N read the sign, smiling at Amoreena as she ran towards it, touching the swirl as she read all the words to herself.

“It’s so sad they died,” Amoreena says so matter of factly that it makes him bite back a smile.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a small laugh. Y/N's shaking her head with a sigh of pure love. “What kind of dinosaur is your favourite?”

“The Jurassic era,” she responds, standing closer to the sign and reading all the words. “Did you know the earth used to be mostly desert? There was a massive heatwave, that’s why they believe dinosaurs were most likely scaled but thanks to the melting ice caps as we recover from the ice age and move back towards being tropical, we’re discovering dinosaurs frozen in ice with feathers and fur!”

It takes his breath away, seeing someone so much like him with a mother who loves every single word that leaves her mouth. Pride on her face as she looks at her little genius and back towards Spencer, waiting for his response.

“So you’ve been a paleontologist this whole time and you never told me?”

She laughs and swats the air, “no, I just read a lot of books.”

“She can read really fast, like Matilda,” Y/N bragged.

“I do too,” Spencer knelled down in front of her. “It’s a very wonderful thing to have a brain as big and magical as ours, never let anyone tell you otherwise okay?”

“Never, I’m the smartest in the kingdom,” Amoreena smiled.

“Yes, she is,” Y/N smiled again, placing her hand on Spencer's back as they continued to walk around the exhibits.

He felt like he had a family, like one of those couples who would go to Ikea and pretend they lived in the sets. This was the most perfect make-believe day of his life, leading a child just like him through a world of things she loved.

Y/N was quiet most of the day, watching them interact with a soft smile and sad eyes. Spencer noticed it but let it slide, he’d ask her about it later when she could be honest with him. He didn’t want to profile her, it wasn’t fair to judge her before he knew her, nor taint the fantastical thoughts he already had about her.

They had lunch in the butterfly exhibit, sitting at the seat by the fountain, Amoreena asking nicely if Spencer could sit in the middle so they could both talk to him. It was adorable, Amoreena was so intrigued by his mind she couldn’t stop asking him questions.

Y/N made him a sandwich and brought him a water bottle, as well as bringing some apple slices and grapes, goldfish and juice boxes for when Amoreena got hungry on the way home. Like a true mom, her purse was full of napkins and hair ties, random books and toys. Rocks, pine cones, everything a young mind would find exciting.

She was like Marry Poppins, pulling everything and then some out of her purse as she searched for something specific. “I brought you something, I’ve had it sitting around the house just moving it to different spots over the years, and thought you’d like it.”

It made him giddy to know she was thinking about him, he couldn’t sit still as he anticipated what it was. She pulled a small metal pin out of her bag then, taking the backing off and clipping it to his pocket.

“Best tour guide ever,” she whispered, reading the words to him with a smile.

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” he shrugged, pushing down the butterflies in his stomach as they were swarmed by the beautiful creatures.

“It’s like animal crossing in here,” Amoreena said to herself as she looked around, kicking her feet as she sat on the bench, tilting her head back and forth absentmindedly as she took it all in.

He wasn’t sure when he stopped doing that; when he started to mask his true self so much that he no longer felt free in public, taking a moment to copy her movements and just enjoy the moment. Making her smile as she noticed him copy her with adoration, not to tease her in any way whatsoever.

“Can we talk when she’s looking at the fossils?” He asks Y/N softly, knowing that she’ll be the most open when Amoreena’s tiny ears wouldn’t be there to remember everything she says.

“Yeah,” she nods with a small smile. “How about I throw out our garbage and we head to that surprise?”

Amoreena jumped off the bench, tugging Spencer towards the door as Y/N cleaned up, following them eventually.

—

They had the classroom all to themselves and Amoreena was still for the first time all day. Standing in the middle of the room as the lights adjusted, changing the glow from blue to amber as they warmed.

The walls were filled with posters and informative signs, there were glass cases showcasing all the finest fossils and bones known to man. And a sand table in the middle of the room, smocks and brushes for archaeology all set up and waiting for her.

“Once you get all suited up, and we’ll get you a little mask so you don’t breathe in any of the dirt and dust, you can dig up whatever is hidden in there!” Spencer announced.

Y/N helped her into a smock, handing her the brushes and asking her to be extra careful with the plastic chisel and hammer. She was beaming from ear to ear the most toothy smile he’s ever seen.

Y/N stopped to take a photo of her then, holding her instruments in front of the sand table, “get in, we’ll tell everyone that Milo took us on a special tour today.”

Spencer kneeled close to Amoreena, she leaned in and wrapped an arm around him to get him in closer, always being the one to choose how much contact she made with Spencer. He would never want to overstep with someone else’s child.

“Beautiful!” Y/N cheered, locking her phone and slipping it back into her jeans as Amoreena turned to the table of sand, dirt and clay.

She got right to work, not skipping a beat as she leaned in and started to dig. Spencer stepped back with Y/N, knowing Amoreena was going to be in her own little world for as long as they left her alone.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m great, I’m just a little surprised,” her voice is soft, low enough that it stays with him. “You’re really good with her for a fed.”

He laughed, nodding his head as he registered her joke. “Ex fed, and I have a 12-year-old godson, Henry.”

“Ahh, so no kids of your own?” Her voice was small, she took a look at his hand to avoid eye contact and he understood.

“None, no wife, no love children hiding out there in the world that I know of, it’s just me, I promise,” he tried his best to ease her anxiety about introducing a new man into her child’s life.

She nods slightly, “you seem too good to be true sometimes.”

He huffed out a small laugh, pressing his lips together as he looked at her, “pretty sure I’ve been dreaming since I saw you.”

She shoved him as she laughed, “would you like to come back to our place for dinner? I know it’s a little weird, believe me, I know, but we live on my parent's land and my mom’s making enough shepherds pie to feed an army.”

“Yeah I’d love to, I’ll get a cab home after,” he felt a swirling in his stomach, nervous and excited all at once.

“Okay,” she whispered, “or we can get to know each other, and then you could sleep on the couch and I’ll bring you back into DC in the morning? I have to drive in any way.”

He licked his lips and nodded his head, wondering what other kind of invitation this could be. If it was pure hospitality, wanting him to be safe for the night instead of inside some stranger's car, or was she wanting alone time with him.

The thoughts turned around in his head over and over making him dizzy, “okay, yeah I’d love to,” he managed to slip the words out without falling over them.

She smiled, tight-lipped and small. Looking up at him with a new look he hasn’t seen on her yet, one he’s only seen in a few faces in his time, and yet he believed her’s the most.

She was smitten with him as much as he was with her.

He sighed, smiling back at her just as soft. She reached her hand out to hold his, walking towards the table with him in tow. Leaning over Amoreena’s shoulder as she unearthed her new most prized possessions.

—

Amoreena was the funniest kid to drive with, He sat in the passenger seat of Y/N’s car with her in a car seat directly behind him. She was singing, cheering, pointing out the window to show him all her favourite things on the way to her house.

Telling him stories about the make-believe people she created to live in the houses, the trolls under bridges and the names of every cow in the field along the long driveway of her grandparent's farm.

“Bob and Linda are an interesting pair,” she warned him as they pulled in closer and closer. Dirt flying up behind the wheels as she drove fast, knowing every bump and turn from memory.

“They will be asking you every question in the book and if you’re going to be looking at the animals they will insist on putting you in flannel and a cowboy hat, it’s a tradition for visitors,” she explained it in a way where he knew she wanted him to think she hated it, but actually she looked excited to do it to him.

“I can’t wait,” he smiled.

“Amoreena has already told them all about you at dinner last night, so they are expecting her to drag you here tonight,” she pushed the blame onto Amoreena, downplaying her affection for him in a self-conscious way he could feel.

He didn’t want to profile her, but it wouldn’t turn off. He was desperate to know her more, to know if she felt the weird tugging in her heart that made him think soulmates might be real. A pain so intense that if he had to explain it to a doctor, it was like his heart was a negative charge and he was being drawn to her much more positive one.

“We have 16 cats, 46 cows, 13 chickens, 4 ducks, 50 sheep and 1 horse, her name is buttercup,” Amoreena informed him, stealing the attention once again.

“Wow, who’s your favourite?” Spencer turned to her, watching her kick her feet as she looked out the windows.

“Probably Alfonzo our fluffy show cow, or Rufus, our dog,” she said softly. “Sometimes nanny lets him sleep at our house.”

“That’s so cool, I’ve never had a pet.”

“What?!” Amoreena stopped, pressing her lips together as her eyes shot wide open, thinking it was the most absurd thing anyone has ever said.

“My mom was sick when I was growing up so I spent my time taking care of her, I didn’t have time for a dog,” he said softly, saying it in a way that wouldn’t scare her.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said softly, reaching her hand out to pat his knee as she kept her eyes on the road.

Then she was pulling in past a big house, around the bend behind it, past the garden and the trail to the barn towards another house. It was big and white, probably big enough to have 4 bedrooms. Many levels, with multiple build-ons from years ago ageing to match eventually.

It was covered in vines, ivy and flowers. It was just like miss honeys. He felt something unspeakable, opening his mouth softly to breathe as his eyes trailed up the siding to the shingles.

He couldn’t believe it.

“Home sweet home,” her wonderful voice brought him back to reality. Saying the word that matched the feeling in his chest.

“Wow,” he whispered. His mouth moved to say words, not a single one slipped through the cracks, his lips touching with fake syllables as he stared at it.

“It was my grandma’s, it’s the house she raised my dad in,” Y/N explained as she put the car in park.

“Mommy had me as a gift for GG,” Amoreena added from the back.

“Her great-grandma,” Y/N nodded with a soft smile, biting the inside of her lip as she fought her feelings. That was a touchy subject that he was going to pry into, later on, wanting to know every single thing about the most exceptional women in the world.

There was a cat sitting on their front step, introduced to him as toothpick because he was the smallest in the last litter. And then the name of every single cat on the way back up to the main house.

Simon and Gar-funk-field twin orange brothers, Alaska the all-white one, strawberry shortcake had a red heart on her butt, oven-mitt for comedic effect obviously as if they others weren’t funny enough, as well as shovel and Catrina… all 16 of them had a name and Spencer was not going to forget a single one.

“Welcome! You must be Doctor Reid,” her father was a very large man, it shocked Spencer slightly.

He was like Santa Clause, it was more than a bit of a shock. Thick grey beard, bald head, red flannel and dirty work jeans, probably in his late 60’s. He was what you imagined Santa to look like outside of Christmas, on holiday with his wife.

He looked like a man who lived a long and happy life, he had a wife who cooked good meals for him, he probably didn’t mind sitting back with a beer most nights. There was definitely going to be sports memorabilia inside and a million photos of Y/N and Amoreena, and the purest energy known to man. Family love.

He hated how fast he profiled it all in his mind, trying to drop that aspect of his inner monologue moving forward.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Sir,” he said softly, nodding lightly as he placed his hands in his pockets. Letting it be known he didn’t touch people, and weirdly being respected.

“Please, it’s Bob or Poppy Clause,” he laughed, shifting his attention to Amoreena as she climbed the stairs towards the porch.

“How is my lovey?” Bob asked her softly, “may I have a welcome home hug?”

“Ah,” he smiled and nodded to himself. He was used to it, asking permission for her sensory issues. Spencer was impressed, and a bit emotional at the fact someone his age was respecting a way of life many didn’t care to understand.

Amoreena gave him a hug, throwing herself into his arms, “no beard tickles,” she instructed, holding onto his shoulders as he kept his face away from her.

Y/N placed her hand on Spencers back, “I told you they were a lot, my mom is worse.”

“I feel very comfortable here, don’t worry,” he assured her.

“I should worry,” she laughed, “you’re one of them, oh god.”

“One of who?”

She tilted her head at him, shaking her head, “eccentric, full of life, bursting with weirdness that would probably be a strange purple goo if I could see it.”

He pressed his lips together as he thought about it, nodding softly in agreement. “There is nothing wrong with that, it just means I’m having fun and living my best life from now on.”

“Welcome to the family,” Bob added, a simple saying that invoked a feeling of pride he long yearned for.

—

Dinner was lovely, he’s never had shepherd’s pie before. Learning it was ground beef, beans and potato casserole, and somehow there was also corn in there… he wasn’t sure why it was so delicious but he enjoyed it a lot.

It might have simply been the ambiance that made it so good.

Her mother was the sweetest woman, she made everything from scratch. Including bread that he was obsessed with and a pie for dessert, she was overjoyed to have an expected yet unexpected guest.

Knowing there was a possibility he’d come, but not setting a place for him at the table unless he showed. She wrapped him up in a big hug when he arrived as well as after dinner when he helped her move the plates to the sink.

Her dad offered him a beer after dinner, taking him to the front porch to talk while the ladies cleaned up for the night. Amoreena had a strict bedtime routine to stick to, and it wasn’t his place to witness nor get in the way.

“So,” her dad started the interrogation easily. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be here if Y/N didn’t trust you. And she doesn’t trust many people.”

“I can promise you I’ll never hurt either of them,” he said with the utmost confidence. “It’s been two days and they’ve brought me more joy than I can explain, and I’m never going to take that for granted.”

“Good answer,” he smiled. “Now, farmhouse rules are as follows; you can roam where ever you please, just ask permission before using any equipment, we’re more of a petting zoo than a farm now so the animals are overly friendly, try and keep them inside the gates.”

He was a bit flustered, computing the fact that he just trusted him like that. Maybe he was Santa Clause, making a list and checking it twice, and Spencer happened to cross off every box to land him on the nice one.

“Sounds good,” he smiled. “Thank you.”

“Believe me, sonny, I know what it’s like to want to impress the old man, but it’s all about Amoreena,” Bob warned him. “If she loves you then so will Y/N, and she falls fast.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, “I’m the same way.”

“That’s what Y/N was saying, I think it’ll be good for Amoreena to know someone like her, we try our best to get her out there and making friends, she’s smart enough to move up some grades but she’s a kid, y’know?” Her father basically describing his own childhood back to him.

“I graduated high school at 13,” he presses his lips together, hoping it doesn’t come off as a brag. Taking a sip of his beer to take the edge off how awkward he felt.

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” he smiled at Bob, who was smiling right back, “it led me here.”

Bob hummed in response, taking a sip as well as he sat back in his rocking chair, watching over the cows in the field as the sun began to set. It was picture perfect, unbelievable.

Wet feet on the hardwood floor caught his attention then, Amoreena was in her PJ’s as she ran towards the door. Putting on her rubber boots and swinging open the screen door.

Her hair was wet, falling into her eyes as she pushed it out of the way, “are you joining the parade and dance party?”

He acted like he knew what that meant, “sure?”

“Yes!” She cheered, “hurry up mom!!”

Y/N walked down the steps slowly, shaking her head as she laughed. “You are so impatient, the animals aren’t going anywhere.”

“No, but Spencer will!”

It made his heartache, the thought of leaving.

“Come on,” she slipped back into her shoes and joined them on the porch. “Off we go, see you later dad.”

“Be good, make wise choices,” he teased her.

“Okay old fart, sleep well,” they had a friendship that was admirable.

Spencer followed with glee as Amoreena said goodnight to all the animals, parading down the path towards their house as she made sure to talk to everything on the way there.

“Every night we pick 2 songs to dance to, it gets all the sillies out and rewards us for a day well spent so we can bless our bodies with a good sleep,” Y/N explains as she unlocks the front door.

A cottage full of books in the middle of the woods, that dream he always had, coming true as she ushered him inside. The smell of coffee drifting towards him as he noticed the brown candle on the mantle surrounded by photos of Y/N and her family.

She placed her keys beside it, kicking off her shoes and making sure Amoreena did the same. In the living room, she connected her phone to a set of speakers, letting the little one pick out 2 songs, queueing them up to play as she bounced with anticipation.

“Tonight’s selection is today was a fairytale by miss Swift, and Anne Hathaway’s cover of somebody to love, form the cinematic masterpiece that is Ella Enchanted,” Y/N announced like she was hosting the grammies, pretending her phone was the mic before hitting play.

He knew somebody to love, the Elton John version, it was a song that Penelope and Emily sang at karaoke when they reached 11 shots each, so not very often. But enough to have him remember the words, singing along with them as they danced.

It was a better workout than Derek had ever put him through, they held hands and jumped around, he twirled Amoreena around, pretending to do the tango with Y/N. Waving their arms in the air, it was the most carefree he has been in ages.

The songs fit the situation more perfectly than any of them seem to realize, he’s falling head over heels in love with this family that he met yesterday. Something in him saying that he needs to stay, that this is where he was supposed to be.

Getting Amoreena into bed was more difficult than Y/N imagined, she didn’t want to stop talking to Spencer. Only finally agreeing to sleep when she learned he would still be there for breakfast in the morning.

“Can you read me a book from your brain?” Her sleep-deprived eyes blinked as she asked him softly.

He looked at Y/N from the doorway, she nodded, patting the bed for Spencer to sit on the edge.

“Any book?”

“Any book.”

“Bedtime for baby star,” he says softly. Remembering all the late night’s he’s heard JJ whisper it on the back of the plane, in the corner of a police precinct in the middle of nowhere, in a twin bed beside his as they shared a hotel room.

“Once there was a baby star, she lived up by the sun. And every night at bedtime, that baby star wanted to have some fun,” he recited the words in an exciting tone, just low enough to soothe her into sleep. “She would sine and sine and fall and shoot and twinkle, oh so bright, and she said ‘Mommy! I’ll run away if you make me say goodnight.’”

Y/N looked at her with a fake stern look, leaning in enough to rub their noses together. “And then her mommy kissed her sparkly nose and said, no matter where you go,”

Y/N kissed her on the nose, “no matter where you go,” she repeated.

“No matter where you are, no matter how big you grow and even if you stray far,” to which Y/N repeated. “I’ll love you forever because you’ll always be my baby star.”

“Goodnight my sweet Amoreena,” Y/N kissed her head softly and stood, Spencer, joined her by the door.

“Can I have a hug?” She asked him softly, he looked at Y/N for approval once again.

She placed a hand on his back as she nodded, watching him lean in and hold Amoreena softly, “goodnight, I had a fun day today.”

“See you tomorrow,” she smiled, closing her eyes for the night.

Y/N replaced her lamp light with a night light, closing the door on the way out of her room as she blew a kiss towards her baby, “love you.”

“Love you more,” Amoreena whispered back.

Spencer was nothing but smiles in the hall as she looked at him, “I’m going to pour myself some wine and sit in the garden, are you interested?”

“Ecstatic actually,” he replied, following her towards the kitchen and letting her pour him a glass.

Behind her house, she had an overgrown garden, every area of her life had a reference to a book somewhere, a story someone else told that she’s now claimed as her own. Living in the world she always wanted, inviting Spencer to stay a while.

She let out a deep sigh as she sat down on the outdoor couch beside him, dropping her head on his shoulder softly, it was more contact than he was expecting. She had barely touched him.

“You should know that I like you a lot,” Spencer spoke softly. “I don’t want you to think I’m just some creep trying to get close to you and your kid, I genuinely think you’re wonderful and Amoreena is magnificent.”

“I trust you, I googled you and everything, don’t worry,” she laughs. “I wouldn’t invite you to the museum and let you give my kid a hug without doing research.”

“Not everything is on there you know.”

“I think you are very wonderful as well,” she said softly, “but I know it’s just the fact that you’re so darn cute that’s making me feel like I should drop everything and invite you into our life.”

“I understand,” he replied. Waiting for her to tell him that this was the last time she’d see him, it was inevitable at this point in his life. Nothing good lasted for long.

“So I need you to know all about me and I need to know all about you before you decide you want to stay because I can’t handle bringing you into Amoreena’s life for you to just leave her,” another deflection.

“You might want to hear mine first before you decide if you want me to stay around her,” it sounded scarier than he planned.

“Alright then, you go first,” she insisted with a small smile, eyes darting past him towards the cows in the field. Not ready to be vulnerable with him.

“I worked with the FBI for 15 years, I’ve helped catch some of the worst people in America, and some of them have vendetta’s against me. As far fetched and insane as that sounds,” he pre-warned her, watching her face drop as she understood the weight of his words.

“I have been framed and sent to prison for three months, I was kidnaped, tortured, drugged, and assaulted, not to mention shot a few times. I have more trauma than you can imagine. So that’s something you have to consider in a future with me,” he whispered so she wouldn’t hear how ashamed he was of himself.

“And the fact know that I can’t always keep myself or you safe, no matter how far disconnected I am from the FBI. It doesn’t matter if I change my name and hide here for the rest of my life off the grid. There are some fucked up minds out there that don’t want to let me experience true happiness. But in all honesty,” he finally stops his long-winded rant. He bites his bottom lip as if he is holding back someone worse than all the things he just said.

“I’m willing to die tomorrow if it means my last day on earth was this fucking perfect.” Tears welled in his eyes, “I am so tired.”

“It’s okay to cry, I would be too,” she says softly, a frog in her throat as she nodded. Tears welling in her eyes as her face scrunched.

He blinked and a tear escaped, slipping down his cheek and being swiped off by her thumb in an instant. She kept her hand on his cheek softly, he leaned into it.

“I’ve been running for so long,” he whispers because then the words don’t really exist. They’re secrets only for her to hear and then they’re gone. “I was basically groomed for the FBI, I was their personal computer and they didn’t give a single shit about the wear and tear on me.”

He started to sob. She cradled his head against her chest in one swift motion, holding him close and rubbing his back. Shushing him softly as he cried into her shoulder.

“You know that Katy Perry song?” she changed the subject as he calmed down, understanding his pain and accepting his warnings, but continuing down the path anyway.

“Summer after high school when we first met,” she sang like an angel. “It was like that, I thought I met the love of my life after I graduated, we got engaged a year later, then he died in a car crash and I was single for a very long time.”

“Then my grandma got sick and she made a bucket list. Number one was to become a great grandma,” her words became whispers as she tried to stop the tears, following Spencer’s tactic even though it failed so miserably.

“I said fuck it. I’m going to have a baby and make my own family, one person I can truly care for and never lose. She’s my world, she was the light of my grandma’s life until it burnt out, she has changed my world in ways I can’t even explain.”

It fell silent as they absorbed each other’s explanations of their issues. The root of their problems, the core of their soul were the most hurt was kept locked away, opening the doors and swapping scrapbook snapshots of terrible memories.

“I think,” she says, finally, like music to his ears. “I think that I’m okay, I’m positive actually that I want you in my life like this. All of you is fine with me, you’re not that scary, and I’m tired of waiting for the right moments because it means losing the people over time missed. I want to live my life fully, I’m at peace with the unknown and with you.”

Peace.

“Not to quote Taylor Swift at you or anything, but she does have a point in that song,” she laughed lightly and he felt her chest jump. Life bursting through her as she made light of an incredibly touchy subject.

“I don’t know the song,” he whispers.

She gasps, “oh that’s the line, I finally found it. Our first fight can be whether or not you like Taylor Swift, don’t even think about how upset Amoreena will be if you’re not, I’ll kick you out.”

He can't stop laughing then, digging his face into her neck as he holds her closer to his chest. Breathing her in as she finishes his laugh in a giggle, rubbing her hands down his back as she presses her cheek to his head.

“I haven’t had the time to listen to her this year I know she’s been busy releasing music,” he admits, “but I’m sure I’ll love it.”

She shifts awkwardly on the couch to take her phone out of her pocket, opening her music and playing the song she was speaking of.

He simply rests his head on her chest, both of them laying back onto the cushions together, finding a comforting spot for their arms as they listened to the words, silently.

He absorbed it all, every word she said bringing forth a feeling he’s never felt before. True understanding, like someone, gets him. Gasping audibly when she says ‘robbers to the east clowns to the west, give you my sunshine, give you my best.’

He wasn’t alone.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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fic-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Text

A Happy Accident

A/N: The other day I found out that Chris Evans may possibly have a sex dungeon? I don’t write real people fics but I knew I HAD to write a Steve Rogers fic about this because I mean...c’mon. Also the text conversation in the fic is indeed a real conversation between my friend and I.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, dom/sub, flogging, being tied up, penetrative sex, honorifics, praise kink

Word Count: 5.4k

You knew there was trouble before you even reached the meeting room, it was like a palpable tension you could sense coming from the conference room. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever was to come as you walked in and took your usual spot next to Natasha.

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” You questioned her, murmuring under your breath since nobody seemed keen to speak above a whisper for the time being.

“Some kind of security breach, we don’t know how bad yet, we have to wait for Stark.” She explained, speaking in clipped tones. She seemed nervous, which was understandable given the circumstances. A security breach could mean a number of things, none of them good. Anything from weapons tech to secret identities could’ve been revealed in the breach.

The tension seemed to come to a head when Tony and Steve walked into the room. Everyone erupted into a flurry of activity, peppering the two men with so many questions it was hard to make out what came from who.

“What was taken?” Someone asked.

“Was it anything serious?” Someone else wondered.

“Do we need to scrap the new suit designs?” You asked, adding your voice to the babble.

“Okay everyone settle down and give Tony some room to think.” Steve urged all of you, forming a one man barrier around Stark. Which you had to admit was rather effective. Once everyone reseated themselves and Steve gave Tony a nod, Tony cleared his throat.

“By now you all have obviously heard that there’s been a security breach. We don’t know who is behind the breach but so far all that was leaked was text conversations of the following Avengers; Wanda, Sam, Bucky, and Y/N.”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. You were a target in the security breach. But why? Why you specifically and why just your text conversations? It seemed rather harmless considering everything else they could’ve taken.

“Luckily Wanda doesn’t really text anyone because everyone she knows is here. As far as Sam, Bucky, and Y/N are concerned they only leaked conversations from your work phones, meaning your personal phone security isn’t in question.” Tony reassured you all. Well, it reassured Sam and Bucky at least.

“Um, what do you mean ‘work phone’?” You asked, looking around with a puzzled expression on your face.

“You do have a burner phone for personal use, right?” Nat asked from beside you. Now your heart was located somewhere in your feet.

“I didn’t know I needed one.” You whispered, barely contained horror edging its way into your voice.

“Well, I mean what’s the worst that could be there?” Sam asked, trying to reassure you. Luckily, or unluckily enough, you didn’t have to answer that question because within the coming days they would all find out.

After the meeting you tried to go about your normal routine and ignore the security breach as best as you could. That got considerably harder the following morning, when the hacker released your private conversations with your friends for all the world to see. They went something like this:

Sarah: Do you think Steve Rogers is good in bed?

You: Obviously, dumb question.

Sarah: Do you think he’s kinky though?

You: Oh 100%, no way he doesn’t have a secret sex dungeon or something.

Sarah: Since you’re an Avenger now you should try to find out.

You: HAHAHAHAHA that’s hilarious and something I’ll never do, in reality. But in theory PUT ME IN COACH! I bet he would probably make me sign an NDA and I would totally be down for that.

Sarah: I’ll sign a DNR

You: HAA, I would sign the NDA but also have to tell you what’s happening and then I would make you sign an NDA.

Sarah: Then you’re breaking the NDA??

You: Not if you don’t tell anyone goddamn be cool.

Sarah: It’s the principle of the thing

You: ...I wonder what kind of dom he is

Sarah: Idk if he’s a daddy. He feels like a Sir or Master. I also think he doesn’t have soft limits, only hard limits.

You: as much as I would like to think he’s a pleasure dom I don’t think that’s true

Sarah: I agree

You: Maybe a brat tamer?

Sarah: That feels too tame for him.

You: Okay so then just a no holds bard whipping dom. I would wait all day in his sex dungeon just to lick his boots when he came home. Does that make me depraved? Probably.

Sarah: Possibly, I also think he’d degrade the shit out of you, like kinda pet play shit. I also think he has a spreader bar collection. Aaaand an overstimulation kink.

You: Oh agreed, that and edging. I feel like he would edge you for hours and then leave to go on a mission or something and you’re not allowed to touch yourself and then he comes back hours later and you’re just aching for release. And then only after you’re BEGGING he would let you come.

Sarah: Oof. How much do you wanna bet his dungeon is like a sensory deprivation thing? Think about it, hours upon hours of not having any form of relief, after begging nonstop, no real form of your senses and then BAM normal orgasm but heightened to the absolute max.

You: YEP! I bet he’s like the king of aftercare though, like 1000/10 so sweet. Like Steve Rogers is legit such a nice human being so I assume aftercare is the same.

Sarah: AYO SIR LEMME BE YOUR SUB

You: GOD FORREAL!

Needless to say, you did not leave your room that day. The next day you tried to get away with not leaving your room again but Nat was having none of that.

“Come on Y/N, I promise it’s not that bad, I’ve said much worse.” She assured you as she practically dragged you out of your room and into the elevator.

You buried your head in your hands and let out a frustrated scream. “He’s a coworker, Nat, and I totally objectified him and basically said all the filthy things I wanted him to do to me.”

“And I bet he’s real flattered about it! The man needs a good ego boost every now and then.” She replied with a laugh. To which you responded with another frustrated scream and a kick to the elevator doors as they opened. “I bet he didn’t even read it, I doubt anyone on the team did.” She said, sounding certain in her own thinking. She half convinced you until you walked into the training room and every pair of eyes turned to you, including Steve’s baby blues. Fuck.

“Okay we’re working in a group today people, focusing on enhanced individuals with external powers. Wanda and Y/N against Sam, Bucky, and Steve.” Nat announced, opening the door to the special training facility. So you and Wanda wouldn’t trash too much of Stark’s equipment with your powers.

“Hey Y/N, you been to any good sex dungeouns recently? I’m looking for one.” Sam quipped as you made your way to the starting point. Before you could even think about what you were doing the smell of ozone was ripe in the air and you sent a bolt of lightning hurtling towards Sam who was barely able to dodge it in time.

“Sorry...hand slipped.” You mock apologized, making it clear that you would have another ‘hand slip’ if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. He got the point well enough but the damage was already done. The tension was worse now than when you first found out about the breach, everyone trying not to bring up the elephant in the room.

Nat cleared her throat and started her countdown and then the training began in earnest. After an hour you were all panting and sweating, utterly spent from your session. Steve passed everyone a water bottle and you took it gratefully, chugging the cool liquid in earnest. It was then that another comment was made, this time by Bucky.

“Thanks for the aftercare daddy.” He mocked as he opened his own water bottle. Once again the smell of ozone was in the air but you didn’t have a chance to meet your target before Steve had Bucky pressed against the wall, his forearm digging into the other man’s throat.

“That’s enough.” He growled through his teeth. Everyone was silent for a minute and you almost felt sorry for the deer in the headlights look Bucky was now wearing on his face, almost. A shower of frustrated sparks extinguished all the lights in the room as you stormed from the room, embarrassment trailing after you.

That had been four hours ago and you hadn’t left your room, despite Natasha banging on the other side of your door. You had asked FRIDAY not to open it for anyone unless given your express permission. It seemed even the AI knew what kind of a mess you had landed yourself into, as she was immediately understanding of such a request. You were in the process of ordering a burner phone off of Amazon when there was a knock at your door.

“Nat, I don’t care how many books you offer to buy me, I’m NOT coming out of this room.” You yelled into the empty space of your room.

“Noted, but uh, it’s Steve. Can we talk?” You were at the door before he finished his sentence. You opened it no more than a crack, not courageous enough to do more.

“I don’t wanna talk to you, I’m mortified.” You mumbled, looking down at your feet instead of the imposing figure outside of your door. Steve gently pushed on the door with his hand and you let him open it the rest of the way. He brought gentle fingers to your chin and tilted your head back so you were looking into his eyes.

“There’s nothing to be mortified about, sweetheart. I just wanna talk.” He replied beseechingly. And maybe it was the tone of his voice, or the way he looked at you, but you relented and let him in, closing the door softly behind you.

“Listen, I’m really sorry for what I said. I obviously never thought it would see the light of day but that’s not an excuse and doesn’t make it okay. Fuck, Steve I’m so sorry. I can get reassigned if you want, have SHIELD put me somewhere else.” You rattled off apologies and half baked plans before you felt his hands gently clasp your shoulders and once again you were forced to look up into his eyes which had gone saucer wide.

“Doll what are you talking about? You don’t need to be reassigned, it's not that big of a deal.” He said, in an attempt to comfort you.

“Not a big deal? I practically accused you of having a sex dungeon and being a mega dom.” You blurted out, mortification making your voice rise half an octave.

He let out a soft sigh before he sat down on the edge of your bed, “It’s not like you were completely in the wrong.” He replied, and that’s when your brain short circuited.

“What? You have a sex dungeon?”

“Well, it’s not a dungeon, it's just my bedroom, but yes I do, partake in those types of things you described.” He explained, his voice as even and calm as if he were discussing the weather.

“Oh.” Was all you could really bring yourself to say.

“Oh? That’s all? I have to say you were much more articulate in your texts.” He teased, his voice suddenly becoming deeper and taking on an air of authority that wasn’t there a second ago. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

And again, maybe it was because of his tone or because of the absurdity of the situation you found yourself in but you answered him honestly. “I’m thinking I’m absolutely mortified that my coworker found out how badly I want him to fuck me.”

“What else?” He prompted. You couldn’t breathe properly, he was taking all the air from the room and the intensity in his gaze pinned you to the spot, like an unsuspecting doe finding itself at the barrel of a gun.

“I’m wondering how correct my predictions were. What kind of a dom you are.”

“Would you like to find out?”

“Yes.” You answered before you could think better of it. The second the word left your mouth your eyes went wide at the confession. Because you did want to find out, God did you want to find out what kind of shit Steve Rogers, the golden boy, was into.

“Then we have ourselves a deal. You want to find out what I’m into and I want to show you.”

“Right now?” You asked, breathless. You could feel your core ache at the suggestion, the want plain as day.

He chuckled before he moved to stand before you. “No pretty girl, not yet.” He whispered, bringing his right hand up to cup your cheek and stroke his thumb across the expanse of your lips. “First we have to talk about a few things.”

“Like what?” You questioned, completely enraptured by this man, finding yourself willing to submit to whatever he wanted you to. You were terrified by how much the prospect excited you.

“Like exactly what you want me to do to you. Your texts were very...explicit. But, that may have just been talk. I need to know specifics if this is going to work.” Steve explained, backing you up until you hit your dresser. Without a word he lifted you on top of it and stood between your legs, one of his hands tracing absent minded patterns on your thigh.

It was hard to think with him in such close proximity but you tried to clear your mind because you really wanted this, your mouth went dry at the thought. “I want...I want to be tied up. And I want to be blindfolded. And whipped.” It felt weird to lay your desires out plain before you like this. It made you feel exposed, but it was also oddly empowering.

Steve nodded his head at your requests. “You mentioned something to your friend about edging and orgasm denial, is that something you still wanted to try?”

“Yes, but not, not yet. I’ve never um, I haven’t- I’ve never been kinky with a partner.” You explained to him, feeling an embarrassing heat creeping up your face.

“Hey, no need to be embarrassed, we all start somewhere.” Steve insisted, bringing his hands up to settle on your hips. “Anything else?” After you shook your head he gave you a nod in reassurance. “Okay, I’ll be in touch.” He said as he stepped away from you.

That was three days ago and you hadn’t heard anything from him on the matter since. You had trained with him, went for a run with him, had the usual team meetings and exchanged the usual pleasantries but nothing out of the ordinary. You had even gone far enough in your wandering mind to think that maybe you imagined the whole interaction.

On Friday, you were told that Steve had gone away on a mission and by that point the team was done teasing you about the leaked conversation, already having moved on to the next thing. You had made plans to go out with them that night to a community outreach thing in Manhattan. You had just gotten your jeans on when a piece of paper slid across your floor from the door.

You walked over to it, thinking someone had just dropped their paper, when you saw what was written on the other side of it.

Text an excuse to Stark for the outreach and then come to my room. -SR

Your heartbeat sped up to a gallop as you read the message through two more times, just to be certain. This was it, it was happening. With shaky fingers you texted Tony a flimsy excuse about draft reports you needed to finish before you put your phone back on your desk and calmly made your way to Steve’s room.

You went to knock but found the door slightly ajar. Taking that as your cue you stepped into Steve Rogers room. While it wasn’t the first time you had been here, it was certainly a circumstance that you weren’t used to. Everything seemed...different somehow. The curtains were drawn and the only light came from dim overhead lighting. There was a faint scent of jasmine that you assumed came from a candle or incense burner you couldn’t see somewhere. On the bed, the sheets had been changed to something that looked like silk and resting on top was an eye mask and two long chords of rope. Which seemed innocuous enough, current circumstances notwithstanding.

“Shut the door and lock it please.” A voice commanded from a shadow in the corner of the room. As soon as you locked the door Steve Rogers emerged from the shadows in an all black version of his Captain America suit. You had never seen him in such a suit before and the sight of him in it made your mouth water and your knees buckle. This was really happening.

“I have to admit, when I read your text conversation I was surprised to say the least. I didn’t know how many dirty thoughts resided in that head of yours but you did not disappoint, did you sweetheart?” He questioned as he made his way over to where you stood, rooted to your spot by the door. He gently pressed against your shoulder and you followed his lead, letting him back you against the door, his strong hands landing on either side of your head, arms caging you in. “And then when we spoke, you were /very/ specific in what you wanted and I am nothing if not obliging, you’ll find.” He whispered into your ear and you couldn’t help the small moan that escaped your mouth at the implication behind his words.

“Are you ready to be my good girl? Hmm sweetheart?”

“Yes Steve.” You whispered, your mind not being able to form anything other than those words.

He made a slight tsking sound. “In here, don’t call me Steve. It’s Captain. Got it?”

“Yes Captain.” You replied obediently.

“Good girl, now get undressed for me.” He commanded, stepping back to give you room to complete his task. With nervous fingers you lifted your shirt above your head and undid the clasp on your bra. You watched as Steve’s eyes took in your exposed top half, he licked his lips which made you shiver in turn. Confidence growing by his visible excitement you unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them down your legs along with your panties, until you were gloriously naked before him.

“God, you're so beautiful sweetheart. I’m already getting hard and all you’ve done is get undressed.” He praised you as he palmed himself through his tac pants. “Come here pretty girl.” He insisted as he picked up the blindfold.

You walked over to him and turned around as he secured the blindfold against your eyes and tied it for you. “Now, we’re gonna use a color system, okay? Green means you’re okay to keep going, Yellow means to slow down, and Red means stop. Can you remember that doll?”

“Yes Captain.” You murmured as you adjusted to not being able to see. You tuned into your other senses to rely on what was happening. You felt Steve take your hand and walk you over until you reached the side of the bed. He helped you up before asking you to lay down on your back.

“Okay pretty girl I’m gonna tie you up now.” He told you as you felt both of his hands take your left arm and maneuver it above your head before securing your wrist in place with rope. He pressed a gentle kiss to the spot before repeating the process with your other arm. “How do you feel sweetheart?”

“Good Captain, I feel good.” You told him as your heartbeat kicked up another notch. You felt him take your left leg with gentle fingers and tie your ankle to the baseboard of the bed. You gasped as he secured your right ankle, knowing you were now naked and spread bare before him. You felt the bed dip as he kneeled over you and brought his mouth down to whisper in your ear.

“What’s your color baby?”

“Green.” You replied. Almost immediately you felt his lips press against yours, desperate and hungry for you. You kissed back with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed. It was a strange sensation, kissing someone you couldn’t touch let alone see, but that didn’t make it unpleasant. You felt blissfully detached from your body and the need raced down to your pussy until you had the sudden urge to close your legs and hide your arousal.

Steve chuckled against your mouth as his left hand snaked down to see what you were trying in vain to hide. “So eager for me and we’ve hardly started” He lazily swiped his fingers along your folds to feel the wetness that gathered there. He then brought the same hand up to your breast and worked your juices around your nipple, making you groan at the sheer wantonness of it all. Steve happily swallowed your groan with his mouth, his tongue taking the opportunity to pass your lips.

You fervently kissed him back as his ministrations against your nipple continued. His lips left yours and left a trail of hot kisses down your throat and over to your neglected right nipple. You felt him blow cold air on it and your back bowed against the bed, your arms straining against the restraints. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud and you couldn’t help the noises that escaped your mouth.

“Oh fuck, Captain.” You let out as he took your nipple into his mouth. You could feel his left hand leave your nipple and you let out a whine of protest. He only laughed against your skin before you heard the faint opening of a drawer. Your ears picked up the sound of him rummaging around for something but you couldn’t focus too much on that as the rest of your body was alight with fire as he continued to work on your nipple with his mouth. He finally found what he was looking for in the drawer and he released your nipple with a wet popping sound before you felt his weight shift and he removed himself from you.

“You mentioned something about being whipped.” He teased, and you could hear that his own arousal had made his voice hoarse. Your cunt throbbed in response. “Do you know what a flogger is pretty girl?”

“Yes Captain.” You replied from your position on the bed. Your mouth went dry at the mental image you had of Steve in his black tac suit with a flogger in hand. How would he use it on you? Would it hurt? Be pleasant? The anticipation was eating you up in the best of ways.

“Good girl. We’re gonna do some counting. Since this is your first time we won’t do too many, just ten. But you have to count them pretty girl. If you forget, or lose count, we start over. Do you understand?”

Oh fuck. “Yes Captain.” You heard him chuckle from somewhere above you before you heard the whoosh of the flogger and the sensation on your skin. You gasped as the leather straps came down hard against your left nipple. “One.” The second one came down against your right nipple and you found that your pussy clenched around nothing. “Two.”

Numbers three, four, and five were placed on your nipples and your stomach.

“Halfway there pretty girl, you’re doing so well.” Steve’s voice came from somewhere around you. A thin layer of sweat had broken out over your skin and your arousal was through the roof. You found yourself panting in anticipation of the next strike. It came, the leather striking against your dripping center and you let out a gasp as your back arched off of the silk sheets. “Six”

“Oh you liked that one didn’t you sweetheart?” Steve teased.

“Yes Captain.” You replied breathlessly. Number seven came in the same spot and another lewd sound left your mouth as the flogger found its spot. Numbers eight and nine he placed on the sensitive insides of your thighs.

“Last one pretty girl. You’ve taken it so well I’ll let you decide where this last one goes.”

“Hit my pussy again, please, I want it so bad Captain.” You practically pleaded. Under any other circumstances you would’ve been ashamed at how pathetic you sounded but you didn’t care. Steve Rogers was doing depraved things to you and you couldn’t think straight. You just wanted him to keep doing what he was doing, to take all of you, every tiny nook and cranny of your being until he knew your pleasures like the back of his hand.

“Such a needy girl, maybe after the flogger I’ll give you a reward.” He replied, sounding pleased with you, before he placed the tenth and final flog against your aching core. “God you look so sexy like this, blindfolded and tied to my bed, maybe I should leave you here as my own personal fucktoy, would you like that baby?” He asked as he inserted two fingers into your mouth.

You mumbled your response against the digits, your pussy getting wetter at the thought of him using you like that. You were only half kidding when you had texted your friend about it but now, with your arousal so strong, it sounded more and more enticing. Steve removed his fingers from your mouth and brought them down to your sensitive center, rubbing them up and down your slit before inserting them into your slick heat. You gasped at the intrusion and felt your hips buck up in response to being filled.

Your walls fluttered around his fingers as he began to pump them at a leisurely pace. You felt him make his way down your body to nestle himself between your spread legs and then his hot breath was fanning out over your cunt as his fingers continued to fuck you. “You look so good, pretty girl. Spread open for me like my own personal feast. God you’re so wet. I guess you like to be flogged.” He spoke, the filthy words that left his lips making you wetter than you already were. Without warning he brought his tongue to you and kitten licked your clit, sending a shockwave through your system.

He took your clit in his mouth and sucked as he continued to work you with his fingers. You fruitlessly tugged against your restraints and bucked your hips in an attempt to get the friction you so desperately needed.

“God sweetheart you taste better than I imagined.” Steve commented as his tongue lapped up your juices. “I bet I’ll be able to taste you on my tongue for a week.”

“Fuck, Captain, please can I cum?” You begged, tears wetting the inside of your mask from the intensity of your session.

“Come for me baby, let me feel you come on my fingers.” Steve commanded and that was your undoing. The knot that had been building inside of you was finally released and you came loudy around his fingers. You felt him lick you through the aftershocks.

“Talk to me, pretty girl, how are you feeling?” Steve questioned, voice hot once again by your ear. His suit gently pressing against your overstimulated skin. “Give me a color.” He asked, pressing a gentle kiss to your jawline.

“I’m good Captain, still Green.” You responded, coming down from your orgasm.

“Such a good girl for your Captain. You’re doin’ so well pretty girl.” He said as he left the bed. You weren’t sure where he went until you felt his dexterous fingers undoing the ropes on your left leg. “I’m undoing the leg ropes first. And then I’m going to fuck you senseless like I’ve been wanting to do since I saw those damn text messages.” Your spent cunt clenched around nothing, as you eagerly waited for him to undo the other leg restraint. You could hear him undo the many zippers and clasps on his tac suit until the bed dipped and he was once again between your legs.

This time skin met skin as you felt his upper thighs press between yours as he brought himself closer to you still. You felt the tip of his cock slide between your wet folds before slipping inside. The breath was stolen from your lungs at the feel of him sinking into your waiting cunt. A low moan left your mouth as you felt every perfect inch of him spreading you until he bottomed out and his hips nestled perfectly against your own.

You felt his forehead press against your own. “Fuck you feel perfect, you know that pretty girl? My perfect little pussy.” He breathed against your mouth as he let you adjust to him. He retracted himself from you fully before swiftly filling you up again. Any noise you may have made was swallowed as he kissed you with a hunger you didn’t think was possible. What started as a slow rhythm quickly changed until he was snapping into you with a fervor akin to a madman.

Your hips eagerly met his thrusts and soon your combined pants and skin slapping filled the room. Still blindfolded, you felt the moment his hand wrapped around your neck and squeezed just so. That had your walls flutter around him and your hips stuttered.

“Oh you like that don’t you? You like when I choke you huh pretty girl?” He asked eagerly, his voice husky from moaning.

“Yes, fuck, please Captain, fuck me.” You rasped out. You grunted as he brought his other hand down to press your hips into the mattress before he slammed into you at a relentless pace. Eventually, his hand left your throat to play with your bundle of nerves.

“Come on pretty girl. Come for me.” He ordered and you were only too happy to comply. You came hard around him, enough that you saw stars behind the blindfold and Steve let out a string of curses and praises for you as he pulled out of you and you felt his cum paint your stomach.

You had a moment to catch your breath as you heard Steve pad over to what you assumed was the bathroom. He came back and placed a warm washcloth against your skin, cleaning up the combined mess you both made. Then you felt his hands move up to untie the blindfold around your eyes. You squinted into the low light of the room and were shocked to see Steve bare chested and glistening with sweat before you.

“Hi.” You murmured shyly, finding that some of your confidence had left you along with the blindfold. Seeing him like this, because of you, because of what you had done, somehow cemented this moment in reality. There was no turning back now.

“Hi yourself, how do you feel?” He asked as he undid the ropes around your wrists.

“I um wow, I feel great.” You said and realized it was true. In the afterglow of the scene you felt amazing. Sexy and empowered and utterly spent but undeniably amazing.

“You did great.” Steve assured you as he took lotion into his hands and massaged the areas on your wrists and ankles where the ropes had been. He placed a gentle kiss on each palm when he was done and went to get you a glass of water. “Drink all of this.”

You took the glass from his hands and drank deep. Appreciating the cool feeling of the water as it slid down the column of your throat, you didn’t realize how thirsty you had become. You finished the glass and handed it back to Steve, who placed it on one of his bedside tables.

“Good girl.” He praised and you felt yourself blush in response. He noticed. “Do you like being praised, sweetheart?”

“Yes Captain.” You nodded.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He replied as he helped you into one of his shirts and placed you underneath the covers. He rested beside you and wrapped you in his strong arms. “You did so well today for your first time. It wasn’t too much for you was it?”

“No, I really liked it.” You reassured him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead with a promise to discuss it more after you slept some.

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers fanfic #mcu fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert

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lordabovehelpme · 3 years

Text

Rainy Day- Din Djarin x Reader

This is the next chapter to my Days Filled with Love series. You can find the first part here! :)

Summary: When your family experiences a downpour, you have to find other ways to entertain yourselves.

Warnings: female reader, children

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The soft sound of rain echoes throughout the house. All the lights are off as the soft glow of the morning light casts shadows onto the golden skin of your husband. His hands idly rub over your chest and shoulders. Every now and then he’ll just cup your mound of fat, not in a vulgar way but rather in a pleasant way. He has told you time and time again how he loves the comforting weight and heat that your body offers him.

His back is leaned up against the headboard as you lay between his large thighs with your own back against his chest. He happily fondles your mounds while you read one of your favorite books. A steaming mug of tea rests on the bedside table, long forgotten as you become enveloped with the characters' story. His head rests atop your own as he lazily skins over the various words you are so absorbed in.

The soft comforter lays across your lap, keeping all four of your bare legs nice and warm. Before you had kids your husband would often sleep as he was born, naked and very much not afraid. But after Grogu climbed in bed a few nights you both decided that in order to save his innocent eyes, the mandalorian should keep at least a pair of boxers on.

There have been countless moments where those boxers have saved more than one pair of little curious eyes. Mornings where the blanket is ripped off of your sleeping forms by various excited children. Nights where little bodies crawled in between the two of you in a search for safety from their dark dreams. But you can both agree that you would never trade those memories for the world.

You have to admit, in the mandalorians' arms you truly feel like nothing can hurt you.

“Cyare,” He gives your chest a squeeze as he tries to gain your fous, “pay attention to me! You’ve read this book so many times before.”

Without missing a beat you counter him, “And I’ve given you kisses about ten times more.”

A small smile breaks onto your face at his loud boyish groan. He settles back into silence and places his head again on top of your own. In reward you reach back with one hand and cup his cheek. When he leans into your touch you slide your fingers under his chin and scratch at the scruff there.

He hums out his approval and you just know his eyes are closed. Moments like these really make you ponder if you married a man or an oversized dog. A breath of air puffs from your nose as you imagine him with a fiercely wagging tail and two fluffy ears.

When you bring your hand back down to rest on your stomach he whines and rubs his head against your own, again, much like a dog.

You giggle softly at your new found discovery.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Mmm, nothing.”

He sighs and rests his head on your shoulder. His arms snake around your middle and pull you as close as he can into his grasp. He presses a kiss to the spot just below your ear.

Your shoulder rises slightly in response and his chuckle reverberates across your skin.

“I love you cyare.”

You lean your head against his. “I love you too handsome.”

***

You’re standing in the kitchen, vegetables frying in a pan as you stir some pasta. Screams of delight sound from upstairs and every now and then you can hear a crash. You pray that they don’t hurt themselves too bad.

Tobbi is asleep, strapped to your chest and Isabet is sitting in her high chair with some markers and paper. Grogu sits next to her as they draw together.

The kids are antsy, usually outside playing. However, the strong downpour outside has put a stop in their usual plans.

Reeza barrels down the stairs, laughing as hard as she can and running as fast as her legs will carry. She rushes into the kitchen and right into your form.

An oof escapes your lips as you wrap your free hand around her shoulders. “What is going on?”

She looks up at you and smiles, her two front teeth missing from when she lost them earlier this week. “Hi, Tobbi.” She pats his bottom before turning to look at the doorway. “Hide me!”

“Hide you?” You ask in amusement and brush her hair behind her ears.

An inhuman roar sounds from the top of the stairs and echoes through the house. “He’s coming!” She lifts the bottom of your skirt and slips beneath it.

“Oh!” You gasp as you feel her grab onto one of your legs.

“Shh, be quiet Mommy.”

Your eyebrows raise and you just shake your head, turning back to the stove. There is never a dull moment at the Djarin residence.

“Where are you, you little womp rat?” Your husband stomps down the stairs, in the same fashion your daughter did. Maker, they are all so similar to him.

He silently stalks over to the couch and as soon as he peeks behind it he growls as if trying to scare whoever was supposed to be there. When he realizes that his target is missing he taunts again, “You think you’re smart, huh?”

You watch with a smile on your face as he walks into another room.

A hand reaches out from beneath your skirt and opens and closes, obviously wanting something.

“Mommy can I have a carrot please?”

You laugh and hand a piece to her outstretched paw, “Of course sweetheart.”

She latches onto it and once again the hand disappears. “Thank you.” You can hear her munch away at the vegetable and you just smile and shake your head. Never a dull moment.

It takes about two minutes for your husband to make his way to the kitchen. His loud stomps sound through the house as he approaches you.

His gaze locks onto you and he prowls forward. Hands wrap around your waist and he presses a kiss to your lips. But he doesn’t forget to greet his youngest son.

“Hey little guy.” His facade breaks as he strokes the tuft of soft curly brown hair that Tobbi so proudly sports. Little brown eyes open and stare up at the mandalorian. A wide smile forms on your son's face as he reaches up and grabs your husband's finger. He babbles and giggles as the mandalorian tickles his little stomach.

Isabet yells out, trying to get her fathers attention. “REE VA!” Her arm waves down at your skirt.

Small giggles sound from beneath your skirt.

Your husband turns to look at Isabet and then scans down to your long skirt. He meets your eyes and his own swirl with amusement. Giving you one last kiss, he presses his finger against his lips, signaling you to stay silent.

Slowly he sinks down to his knees.

You hold your breath, waiting for what the bounty hunter will possibly do next.

As fast as he can, he whips your skirt up and grabs your daughter. She screams in delight and you gasp at the cool air on your bare legs.

He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her from you. She tries to reach out and grab your legs but your husband pulled her away too fast.

She is nearly wheezing from laughing so hard. But in between the laughs she pleads with him. “Daddy, no!” and “Daddy, please!”

A loud battle cry sounds from the living room as Myles charges in and flings himself at your husband. But there is only so much a seven year old can do to the large bounty hunter. Your husband bends down and lifts Myles over his shoulder. Tobbi laughs and giggles as his little legs kick in excitement.

Your husband turns to look at you, smiling wide as he holds two screaming and laughing children.

You have never been more in love.

***

The three youngest kids have already been put to bed, so it just leaves you, Myles, Reeza, and a very sleepy mandalorian.

Reeza sits on her fathers lap while Myles sits on your own. A large blanket is wrapped around you and Myles as the two of you stare at the other members of your family.

Your husband's head leans back against the chair as he snores loudly. Reeza lays on his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck as she also snores, the spitting image, and sound, of the mandalorian.

“Does he always snore that bad?”

You giggle and press a kiss to the top of your son's head. “No, it’s just the angle he is at. Once he lays down it will be much quieter.”

He nods slowly, trying to analyze why the angle would affect his fathers loud snores. Once he seems to find an answer he likes, he asks another question, “Do I snore like that?” He sends a disgusted side glance at his father.

Myles was never really a snorer. When he was a toddler he was a mouth breather so naturally he snored a little, but now it has been fixed. “A little when you were younger, but it’s gone away now.”

He nods his head, eyes glassy as he thinks over this new information. “Good.”

You laugh at his simple response. “Yes, then when you have your own kids they won’t stare at you while you sleep and make fun of you.”

“Ewww, mommmmmm.” He whines but you just kiss at his cheeks.

“I know, it’s gross, I’m sorry.”

He looks up at you, gears turning behind those expressive eyes. “You’re kisses will never be gross, kids are gross.”

A loud fit of laughter erupts from your stomach. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve seen you change lots of diapers. And I’ve gagged each time.”

You laugh and shower him with kisses again. “Maker, I love you.”

“I love you too Mom.”

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

Next Chapter: Sick Day

I hope you all liked this chapter!

As always, feedback is super appreciated. I love hearing what you all have to say, so please consider reblogging or leaving a comment!

Love, Lordy :)

Masterlist

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If you want to be added/removed from my taglist- just give me a holler and I’ll happily do it! :)

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #days filled with love #dfwl

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chromatic-lamina · 3 years

Text

chapter 1014—spoilers

Okay, I’m super busy, so not much to say this week except it made me tear up.

But first, the cover!

I love this! Law’s nickname being the Japanese word for tiger (tora), the o part just means man. And it just kind adds to that itch to write that Law-wandering-monk thing. I think that Oda has allusions to religion all over One Piece, cos’ it’s pretty everyday in Japanese life too, even though Japanese will tell you that they are not religious.

But Law is the guy who has so far had the vague Christian background, and who adopted the wandering monk disguise while in Wano. (written about here).

[More below the cut]

The scans had this really neat bit of information too (below). I got this from mangasee. I usually go to ... I can’t remember, I went down a bit of a rabbit hole today, the site seemed dodgy, but I think they’re (forgotten name) the original scanners. But, anyway, thanks very much to them. They often colour panels as well.

I think the LawZo, ZoLaw shippers can run with this one too! (Zoro’s animal being a tiger, I think).

Okay, the chapter. I won’t cover it in depth, just things that struck me. It doesn’t mean the rest wasn’t important, but you know that someone will cover it all.

Flashbacks can be lazy writing, and maybe it is lazy writing—Oda trying to figure out how he can boost Chopper’s power cos it’s needed now, but the flashback with Caesar is not out of the realm of imagination (panel above).

It’s also why I think it’s a good idea not to take announcements and pronouncements as (G)oda’s word. Cos, especially those coming from World Government sources, or that are hearsay, have a likelihood of being a different story in flashback. Like, Oda never fully shows his hand.

Regarding the panels, Caesar’s ego would let him design something for Chopper, even though Chopper is his enemy. Maybe Chopper designed his own enhanced rumble balls using Caesar’s knowhow.

The Marys are super cool (and Perospero is still in the game).

And look!! Law and Kid are sharing a panel! Or a strip (and so are Sanji and Zoro, and a speech bubble! I guess Zoro must have woken up).

These guys won’t be so easily fooled by Kaidou’s words of Luffy’s demise, but the idea of the Polar Tang popping up from somewhere to rescue Luffy maybe has more credence this week.

Law’s got his, I’m so upset with this news I must grit my teeth face on. His captain’s coat is still stylishly draped. He did have that second to rest on blackleg’s shoulder in 1012, was it? He must have fixed himself up then. Ooh, and tatt. Did we see his tatt when he landed on the shoulder? I must do some serious research.

We only get a blob of Kid, unfortunately.

Robin’s looking kick-ass while she kicks some ass. And Brook’s in the background doing his own version of Zigfield follies. (Panels above).

So, Kanjuro sure plays dirty (above). I do like the scans’ translation of “Even the sharpest of swords becomes dull when pointed at a friend”. Ashura’s line to Kiku when she hadn’t done such a good job of eliminating Kanjuro the first time around.

And man, if she couldn’t finish of a traitorous friend, she sure can’t eliminate a father figure. But fake-Oden/Kanjuro has no hesitation in finishing her.

Of course the words that Oden-Kanjuro says, “How could you raise a sword against me?!” can be read on so many levels and applied to so many characters. And of course are also what Kiku should be saying, and the scabbards as a whole to Kanjuro.

Ah. Not Kiku. She and Izou have had like five minutes of reunion. Oh, man. That exchange a few chapters back. Ahhh. And that’s a very poetic translation. I wonder what the official will be? But Kanjuro was a friend. Is a friend. And that’s what cuts the deepest.

Yes, he was damaged. Orochi too. But was it that mindset where the pain was just too deeply embedded to ever trust the good, or feel it? But I think he felt it. Just couldn’t trust it. Such a complex character.

And Kaidou and Kanjuro, the only two characters that I remember (there are probably more) who have an expressed death wish. That being a main aim of their lives.

What a betrayal, huh? Oof. And Kin’emon’s tears are evident. Is Kanjuro’s crying? Seems he was never able to feel or see that emptiness and form were the same thing. Ah.

Shinobu too. Big chapter for her. She did not suspect Kanjuro at all in Ebisu town where she accused Law’s crewmates of betrayal.

Both she and Kanjuro didn’t recognise Tonoyasu (Yasuie) and shared a moment of camaraderie in their embarrassment at not knowing his name. I know her role was to deflect reader suspicion from Kanjuro, but putting that aside. Oof.

And Momonosuke? Thinking he saw his father again? (And what did he read in the log book?). Man, once that kid is shogun I hope he hires a good psychologist / healer.

And what does he want Kin’emon to tell everyone? And whose voice did he hear?

And Shinobu, I reckon you could have taken out the frog.

Bonus:

Although he’s looking worse for wear. C’mon Chopper. You and Marco can do it!

#one piece #chapter 1014 #trafalgar law #kin'emon #one piece okiku #kanjuro #op spoilers #one piece spoilers #opspoilers #chapter 1014 spoilers #chromalami #chromameta #opmeta #op meta #my stuff #my writing

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wherethewordsare · 3 years

Text

Jay’s 500 Follower Title Event!

This title was sent in by the amazing and wonderful @dapandapod and as always, betad by the love of my life, @kuripon. Thank you both for all your love and support.

Bit of CW: The following chapter will include smut. This one is just straight up angst and pining. (sorry not sorry panda). Long post! If you prefer, you can also read it here on AO3

You Could be my Unintended: Part 1 Nothing was ever simple when it came to traveling with Jaskier, Geralt thought as he ducked another sword, bringing up his own in an attempt to disarm their assailant.

“Couldn’t just leave her be, could you?” he growled and blocked another blow, this one aimed for the bard’s head.

“I did, Geralt! I swear! She wouldn’t leave me alone!” Jaskier gasped as he moved back, his own dagger in hand.

The elves moved forward again, backing the two of them closer and closer to the edge of the ridge. One of their own lay behind them, not dead, but Geralt didn’t envy him the headache he would have. The elves snarled at him again and made to push in again.

“Just give us the bard,” one demanded while the other made another sweeping pass to try to cut at Jaskier. Jaskier danced away from the blade easily enough but lost his footing, nearly crashing into Geralt.

“Not a fucking chance,” Geralt snarled back, baring his teeth. His stomach roiled with something he wasn’t ready to name but he couldn’t help the way his arm stretched out protectively over Jaskier. They were too close to the edge of the ridge. If they stepped back any further, they would be in fae territory and Jaskier would be lost. The feeling in his gut only grew heavier.

Jaskier was saying something behind him but Geralt couldn’t quite make it out before the smaller of the two elves lunged forward, spearing Geralt full bodied back into the bard and back through the barrier. His medallion hummed when they passed through, making his skin tingle. There was an oof and the clattering of Jaskier’s dagger tumbling away from him as he attempted to catch the full weight of an armored witcher.

In the scuffle, the elf was kicked away and Geralt rolled off of Jaskier, pushing him back down when he tried to follow. He stood over Jaskier, blade drawn and blood pounding through his body.

“You want my bard, you fucking come and try to take him,” he barked. Everything on this side of the barrier was too bright, too loud, too lush. He tried to focus on the elves following them through the barrier but he couldn’t help but feel there was something else in the wood with them.

Geralt’s chest felt tight as he panted. He had said his bard. His. What was he thinking? Jaskier had never been anyone’s, certainly not his. Never would be.

“So you claim this bard for yourself?” said a soft crooning voice from behind him.

Geralt whirled around, crouching down as if ready to spring. Behind him stood a fair elven woman, her hair framing her delicate features, a look of absolute tranquility over her features.

“You can’t have him.” The feeling in Geralt’s stomach swelled and suddenly he was overwhelmed with a sense of desperation. I can’t lose him. Not like this. Not to you.

Something in the elf woman’s face shifted and she raised a fine eyebrow at him. “I see,” she said simply. It crossed his mind for all of a moment that she could see straight into his thoughts. He tried to close off his mind but he couldn’t concentrate long enough.

“Witcher, don’t,” Jaskier said softly, careful not to use his name. His hand had come up at some point to rest on Geralt’s calf from where he was still prone on the ground. His face was open and soft even with a weeping cut above his eye and dirt on his clothes.

It was then that Geralt had realized that his medallion hadn’t stopped humming after they had passed through into the fae lands. He was under the effect of some kind of magic. That had to be it. That had to be why every mark on Jaskier’s skin, every drop of blood that ran down into the hollow of his throat made Geralt want to set the whole place ablaze.

“Well?” the woman asked again. Everything around them seemed to go perfectly still. Even the birds stopped their fluttering and the insects had gone quiet.

“I claim the bard as mine,” Geralt said flatly. He didn’t lower his sword or move away from Jaskier.

She smiled at him and his medallion nearly shook his ribcage apart as some kind of raw magic wrapped around them both. Everything was bright and warm for a moment and then everything had gone dark.

Geralt woke up with a pounding in his head. There was something warm and heavy laying against his side. Whatever it was, it smelled like home and safety and…

Jaskier.

His eyes flew open and there in his arms, Jaskier was sleeping with most of himself tucked against Geralt while his one arm stuck out along the bedroll. It was completely bare.

Fondness and panic warred inside him as he quickly but carefully unwrapped himself from Jaskier, having to untangle his legs. It wasn’t the first time he had slept next to him, but never had it been so… intimate.

He looked around for the elves that had been chasing them, for their packs, for anything that would explain what had happened to them and why he had woken up with a sleeping bard in his bedroll.

“So you claim this bard for yourself?” The words echoed in his ears. There was a pounding ache behind his eyes as he tried to remember what had happened after that, but the only thing he could remember was the feeling of being happy.

He finally spotted Roach and their packs just beyond the line of trees that cinched in the clearing. He was going to grab their things and wake up Jaskier and they were going to get as far away from there as possible.

Geralt looked back down at Jaskier and froze. When he had gotten out from the bedroll, the furs had fallen back, revealing Jaskier’s other hand. There, in bold dark lines were markings, like tattoos. Thick bands barely a hairsbreadth apart wrapped around his wrist. It reminded Geralt of the way his blade was beveled. The bands weren’t what made him freeze though. Around Jaskier’s ring finger was a wolf, small and sprinting, it’s head just below Jaskier’s knuckle. For something so small and fine, it was impeccably detailed.

“I claim the bard…” Geralt looked down at his own hand, his eyes widening as his heart leapt into his throat “...as mine.”

Oh. Oh no. This couldn’t happen. Not to him and certainly not to Jaskier. Geralt thought he should leave. Run far and fast, try to outrun the thin bands, six of them that he did not have to be told were lute strings, and the buttercup that wrapped his ring finger in fine black lines. The fae had done something, some kind of trick that would tie the bard’s fate to his for the rest of his days.

Fuck. He realized that it wasn’t just a matter of tying their fates together, but their lives. Geralt looked back over again at the marks around Jaskier’s arm, his finger. They were marriage bands. He had claimed Jaskier as his and they twisted his words in a way that neither of them could easily escape.

Geralt knew that it had been his doing. The fae had looked into his head and knew that the magic needed that anchor.

“Mm, Geralt?”

He had still been looking at his own markings, the ones that made him Jaskier’s, when the voice snapped him out of his spiraling.

“What happened? Did we win?” He sat up and groaned, bringing his hand up to cup his head.

Geralt watched in horror as Jaskier froze, his eyes catching on the fresh marks on his arms. Jaskier turned his hand over and back again, his fingers spread as his eyes widened. Something like fear scented the air in a sharp spike. Any small hope Geralt had that Jaskier possibly, maybe would, if given the choice, not completely recoil at the idea fled in that moment.

“You know what those are?” he asked, letting his own hand drop. Jaskier looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded. “We’ll find someone to remove them.” And then you’ll leave me, Geralt thought bitterly.

Suddenly he remembered Jaskier on the ground, clutching at his calf as if to hold him back. He had told Geralt not to do it. He had known what was coming and he tried to stop it.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier looked away before Geralt could make out whatever emotion was flickering across his face. “I shouldn’t have talked to her. And now…” He lifted his marked arm as if in defeat.

Geralt clenched his hand and turned away, marching back to Roach and their gear. He had to get them moving. He couldn’t just sit and watch Jaskier come to the realization of just what kind of monster he was now bound to. It was one thing to follow him around and sing songs and come and go as he pleased, but Geralt was willing to bet that Jaskier thought it something completely different to wake up and find himself practically married to one.

Behind him, Jaskier slid from the bedroll and packed it before following. When he handed it to Geralt, his eyes locked onto Geralt’s wrist, his eyes going wide. For a moment, he thought it might have been wonder in his gaze but maybe that was just him punishing himself with a hopeless dream.

He pulled away when Jaskier’s hand came up as if to trace the thin lines that now encompassed Geralt’s wrist. It was one thing to look down at his arm and know that even without the marks, even without the flower or the strings, they seemed to suit him perfectly despite their delicacy. But to have Jaskier see them, let alone touch them felt suddenly like too much, too intimate.

“Sorry,” Jaskier stepped back, looking anywhere but at Geralt. That smell like fear trailed behind him, sour and unfamiliar. Jaskier had never been afraid before.

They walked for what felt like ages almost in near silence. Geralt didn’t ride Roach, instead leading her by her reins on one side while Jaskier walked along her other. Every now and then, he would catch sight of Jaskier’s hand swinging by his side, the silhouette of a wolf easily seen even at a glance. There wasn’t any chance Jaskier would want others to see it. They would see a bard with a wolf tattoo and they would know. And they would all think the same thing.

That the bard belonged to Geralt, even if that would never be true.

When they reached town, Geralt dug through his pack before he gave Roach over to be stabled for the evening. He turned to Jaskier and handed him gloves. He had hoped they would be subtle enough that it wouldn’t affect his playing but he wasn’t too hopeful. He was already planning on picking up extra contracts to make up for the loss of coin. It was the least he could do.

He left Jaskier behind to get them rooms at the inn while he searched for a mage. There had to be a mage that would know how to take off the bands. His memory wasn’t what it had once been, too full of a lifetime and a half of monster hunting and loss to remember every little facet of lore. What he could remember, though, was that there was something about a potion that would take away the marks. The how of it was a bit fuzzier. The words “let the heart forget” stood out in his mind and he flinched. Maybe if the mage made him forget Jaskier, the bands would fade. Of course Jaskier would get to remember everything in perfect detail since it wasn’t his heart that had gotten them into this mess.

The local mage had been no use, babbling on about “Why not try to enjoy the honeymoon before throwing in the towel". Geralt left with blood on his knuckles that hadn’t been his. The alderman had been far more helpful, supplying Geralt with a contract and a down payment. Forktails were dangerous on their own, but forktails that were mated and trying to nest just above where the farmers pastured their sheep were nearly impossible.

The tavern door was ajar, a man standing just inside the frame behind several others. There was a bottle-neck of people blocking his way and he could hear why before he even reached the step. Jaskier’s voice rang through the air, a pounding tune thumped by at least a hundred feet within.

Without thinking, Geralt rubbed at the marks around his wrist, smiling to himself. Even with the gloves, Jaskier managed to entice nearly the entire town into one building. He shouldn’t have been surprised, not really.

The tone shifted suddenly and the stomping stopped with it as Jaskier’s voice, clear and high and sweet, crooned something new. It wasn’t something Geralt was familiar with but he could hear others inside picking up along with some of the lyrics before being hushed by fellow patrons.

Geralt’s chest ached with it when he had no business hurting. There was something about a love held dearly, even at arms length. Jaskier wove a tale of loyalty and bravery about someone who would never know the singer existed, and certainly couldn’t love them back. Geralt wondered, his stomach souring, who could have grabbed the bard’s attention so thoroughly; yet Jaskier had never mentioned. Or maybe he had and Geralt hadn’t listened.

He pressed in by the window and managed to catch a glance of Jaskier sitting on the bar, his face soft and wistful, between the shoulders of the tavern's patrons. There wasn’t a dry eye in the entire room. Geralt’s eyes moved down, his heart nearly stopping when he caught sight of his hands. They were bare, and the sleeve of the marked arm was pulled up slightly, as though he were purposely displaying them. He had to remind himself to not hope, not think too much about it. Of course Jaskier wouldn’t wear the gloves. They wouldn’t let him play. Of course his sleeves were rolled up a bit, it had to be stifling in there.

He rubbed again at his own markings and, for a moment, let himself believe that maybe he was the one in the song, the one that watched someone be loyal and brave but who would flit away from bed to bed at any moment.

Geralt turned and made his way back to the stabes. He would just keep Roach company until he thought the coast was clear enough to make it up to his room without notice.

Geralt didn’t remember falling asleep, and he certainly didn’t remember hearing Jaskier coming into the stall at some point. He had woken with a start at the gentle nudge to his shoulder. It was the fact that Jaskier’s voice and scent were familiar that kept him from drawing his sword.

“There you are,” Jaskier said softly, tugging at Geralt’s cloak. “You missed quite a performance.” He reached somewhere beside him and the sound of a heavy coin purse jangled back.

“You didn’t wear the gloves,” Geralt mumbled. Maybe he had needed more of a rest before running back out into a hunt. He felt sluggish and his shoulder ached from where he had been leaning against the wall.

“I… no. I didn’t, I’m sorry.” Jaskier pulled away then and crossed his arms over his chest. There was that smell again, the one that Geralt thought might have been fear but now, as it cut through the bright warmth of a good performance, he could taste before the mood had suddenly soured between them. “I’ll wear them until you find a mage, then.”

Geralt watched with a distant curiosity as Jaskier ran his fingers idly over the bands on his arm. He seemed to have caught himself doing it as well and tugged his sleeves down so Geralt couldn’t see them anymore. His own fist clenched by his side. He knew he wasn’t allowed to reach out, to touch those marks that had made Jaskier his, even if only for a short while.

Jaskier cleared his throat, and took a step back, not looking up to meet Geralt’s eyes. “Ah, right. Anyway, they only had one room and the bed is yours if you want it. You’re the one who had to go trekking through the muck.” Jaskier smiled at him but it wasn’t nearly as bright as it usually was.

Geralt wondered if being bound like this to one another was such a burden to Jaskier that even his smile was weighed down by it. A tightness gripped at his heart so hard he could have gasped with it.

“I’ll be fine here,” he said finally when the silence had drawn on for far too long. “Good night, Jask.” Geralt made a point to settle himself down further into the straw of the stable, also refusing to look up.

“Right then. Good night, Geralt.” Jaskier turned on his heel and stalked away, his arms still wrapped tightly around him. Behind him, that sour smell still trailed now cut with something like salt. It was not a usual smell for Jaskier and it only gripped Geralt’s chest harder.

#geraskier #witcher fic #long fic #also on ao3 #jay writes #jay's 500 follower event #title asks #title answers #hurt/comfort #the comfort is coming #next chapter #jaskier #geralt of rivia #eventual smutt #angst with a happy ending

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paddymoonstruck · 3 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬┃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

chapter two

warnings: season 4/manga spoilers, mentions and depictions of death, death, war, cursing, angst, eren being an asshole

word count: 6,406

notes: PROCEED WITH CAUTION major season four/manga spoilers ahead !!! ALSO — I’ve read the last chapter and bestie lmao — i just wanted to pour the dread I felt by posting this chapter since it is also vv sad!!!! ENJOY THOUGH !!!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER/S: moodboard/prologue, one

𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞

A malicious smirk curled upon the lips of a certain brunette, head peaking from the corner of a concrete housing. His bright, turquoise irises scanned the friend group of his intended target, arms linked one after the other, walking towards to door that led to the hallway of the dorms.

“Eren, is this really necessary?” Armin whispered beside Eren, his voice shook in the slightest as he watched the bunch near the door.

Eren scoffed, nodding his head firmly, never taking his eyes off of them. “It wouldn’t have to be if she didn’t pour salt on my oatmeal earlier . . .” The frown that decorated his face was fleeting, the scheming glint present again, as anticipation bubbled in his stomach.

Devon Janea stretched her hand out, placing in on the metal knob, she laughed along to what ever Sasha and Nifa were chatting about. Her palm twisted the knob, giving it a light push. A soft clank ticked above her head, followed by the liquid icy flow that took her awhile to recognize as water. It cascaded from her head down to her boots.

Both of her companion let out a gasp, pulling the wooden bucket that had fallen on their friend’s head.

Eren’s smirk, shifted into a series of baffling hysterics, his gaze pointed at the now soaking wet Survey Corps uniform of Devon. Her golden brown locks dampened, turning them a shade darker.

Despite the numbing sensation of Devon’s body, she managed to catch wind of someone laughing annoyingly loud. Her suspicions were confirmed as her vision landed on an elated piece of shit kneeling on the ground, clutching his stomach a few feet away from them.

She made eye contact with a pair of ocean eyes as she looked up, which immediately swam in mercy. If she wasn’t freezing to death, she would’ve laughed at the fear on Armin’s face but she was able to comprehend was the desire to crush Eren Yeager’s skull into ash.

“Oi, Yeager!” She bellowed, unclipping her soiled cape from her back.

“You’re gonna get it now . . .” Nifa mumbled, earning an enthusiastic giggle from Sasha.

Eren stood from his place, chortling toned down to occasional chuckles, he crossed his arms to his chest, observing Devon’s shaking form as she approach him.

The exasperated expression that had morphed itself on her face never wavering. Her drenched footwear squelched under the Earth’s pressure. “You have five seconds to tell me why — oh why you did that.”

Apparently, the seething irritation Devon carried in her tone triggered Eren’s funny-bone because not a second later, stupid laughs poured away from his very much punchable mouth.

It was short-lived, however — since Devon’s patience had ran thin and next thing everyone knew, her arm swung back, fist colliding painfully against Eren’s abdominal area, producing a clean booming crunch.

A series of oof’s can be heard behind her which she could’ve guessed were a few people who had came to witness this brawl that occurred quite frequently much to their squad captains’ displeasure.

He had stumbled back a few inches, ass meeting the soil. The agonized groan that escaped his lips were a blessing to Devon’s ears, and her eyes feast at the same suffering that contorted his face.

Armin instantly came to his side, eyes wide in panic.

Wringing her moistened hair in both hands, she raised an eyebrow as she saw Armin’s pleading eyes. “Don’t give me that look — “ She scorned, a mocking smile dressed her features. “He’s the idiot that came at me.”

Eren shot her a murdering daggers. “You started it!”

A child — an immature child —

“Excuse me?” Devon questioned, hands settling on her hips.

“You ruined my breakfast!” His voice boomed inspite the pain shooting at his stomach.

Devon pondered his words, brows furrowing in thought. Just then, a memory flashed between her eyes, producing an inelegant snort from her mouth.

A hand came to cup her lips instantly, doing little to conceal the blooming grin that had appeared.

“Oh, that.” She affirmed, voice filled with mirth. “In my defense, you kept kicking my leg for no reason— so—”

A foot after the other, she strided towards the boy who had now gotten off the ground, fists clenched at either sides. Regardless of the noticeable difference in their height, Devon stood tall, as she looked up at Eren.

“—technically, you started it . . .” She narrowed her eyes, staring at Eren’s equally annoyed ones.

Almost half a minute passed, the open courtyard remained quiet as both Scouts stared in each other down as if waiting for one of them to disintegrate into nothing but ash.

However, A firm cutting tsk made everyone flinch. Devon and Eren seem to stumbled back onto reality, goosebumps rising on their arms.

Both snapped their heads to the terrifyingly familiar sound and behold— with a deep scowl resting on his usually neutral face, Captain Levi tapped his foot next to the sploch of wetness on the ground.

His sharp glare cutting through the babbling Scouts in the middle of the scene. From the fair amount of distance, they were sure the Captain noticed their shaking figures.

“It wasn—”

“She di—”

The Captain’s raised palm silenced both the excuses that came rushing out their mouths, clamping them shut in a split millisecond.

“Both of you—” He started, teeth gritting as he spoke. “No one gets a speck of lunch until you’ve cleaned this up.”

Resigned huffs and nods were their response, head hung low but burning glare for one another remained.

Her clammy hands clutched the fabric in a tighter vice, closed palms beginning to shake at the emotions that had invaded her mind.

Devon Janea was once again in a position she had promised herself to never indulge in— but as her eyes bore into the green cloth that held the symbol of freedom, her eyes began to sting, teeth in a compacted clench, causing a dull ache to reside in her mouth— an ache she couldn’t dare feel due to the greater torment, the object in her hands brought.

It was her old Scouts cape. She had kept it when they had announced the reinvention of the Survey Corps uniform. The cape meant a great deal to her yet every time she laid her eyes on it, nearly nothing joyful popped in her mind.

She despised the idea of hating this piece fabric— she hated it— but she somehow felt the need to.

All of the things that happened to her– good or bad, her cape hung on her shoulders and bore witness.

It was there— this old thing.

It was there when they went to battle mindless Titan’s outside of the walls. It was there when every stage of fear shot through her system every single time her squad-mates met their cruel demise.

In the times where she cried for her fallen comrades until the sun rose, she had hugged this piece of fabric to her chest, muffling her outmost despair.

It was there when she fell victim to Eren’s pranks and their childish fights. This was present in the time she had felt an outrageous amount of bliss regardless of the situation in the outside world– a time where all she thought about was surviving, with them.

But now— it was . . . gloomy.

A distant call from outside her window caught her attention and she immediately got to her feet, observing the armor that decorated her body. It was far from what they used to wear but nonetheless more efficient for their current predicament.

They were fighting humans now.

She had never thought this day would see the light but assumptions can always be shifted, can’t they?

It was baffling to her how they’d need more advanced and heavier equipment when it came to war against people in comparison to the weapons and wardrobe they utilized with Titans.

Big, scary, man-eating giants.

Her younger self would most probably shudder in fear if she saw her now. She’d ask her all these question in order to make sense of her actions and most likely pretend she understood when in fact, she’s been thinking of ways to turn her over onto a brighter leaf.

As she tried to imitate a happy smile she used to carry, she could almost see her other self seething at the fabricated action. She gripped the straps of her black uniform, the material fitted like a second skin but very comfortable to move around in.

With a last shake out of her doubtful thoughts, she grabbed the green cloak from the floor, hooking it across her chest while she ran down and into hell.

Time seemed to pass by quickly — that or Devon has been spacing out now and then as Commander Hange was explaining the plan of action. The parts Devon had caught irked her.

“We’ll have to cover for Eren as much as we can . . .” Hange’s tired, but firm mutter echoed in the airship that has been prepared by Zeke Yeager and his most gracious disciples.

“We have to assume that he’ll cause damages and openly declare war,” The commander nodded at them, her gaze flickered from one scout to another that surrounded the table in the middle of the room. “Jean, Connie, Sasha and Floch — watch out for enemies over at the west. Take half of Levi’s squad with you.”

Devon watched the circle of her comrades as she rested her body on a nearby wall, eyes fleeting to Hange as she caught her gaze.

“Devon,” The commanding tone in her voice caught Devon’s attention. “You and Mikasa are to find Eren — and once you do, keep close and make sure to have your eyes on him at all times.”

If it wasn’t for Devon’s self-proclamation to shut up and do as she’s told without complaints,, she would’ve jumped out this flying balloon hours ago. But, she matched Hange’s stoic glare, a nod confirming her cooperation was enough for the commander to continue her discussion.

In the corner of her eye, she could spot a figure walking towards her. She kept her gaze forward, clearing her throat once the said figure had stopped beside her.

“If you want to smack Eren, I won’t stop you,”

Be this a normal situation, Devon would no doubt laugh at Levi’s sudden statement. She twisted her neck to face him, she’s met with those steel, cool stare.

“I know.” She affirmed, folding her hands back, hiding the fidgeting of her fingers that had no plan on stopping until they’ve left this depressing island. “Maybe I will slap him later . . .”

She saw Captain Levi nodding along to her words, and despite not exactly saying anything else, Devon appreciated the random interaction that somehow calmed her nerves a little.

The minutes of Hange talking was the only sound bouncing through the walls were indeed just minutes.

A deafening roar quaked the skies, Devon’s eyes shutting, hands coming up to cup her ears at the loud volume.

Show time.

She stumbled at the front of the airship, hands finding support of its walls, her head peaked out the scene through the window.

There he was.

Or it.

The enormous Titan stood at an intimidating form of 15 meters, baring his muscled back to them. His roars continued to pierce their ear, making them flinch each time it rattled their hearing.

“There’s no time to waste!” Captain Levi’s command came riddling through all the commotion. “To your stations!”

With that, the scouts saluted, each scrambling to get their equipment together as fast as they can. Devon instantly ran to her gear, hooking it around her waist. Her hands reached to take a hold of approximately ten thunderspears. The supposedly cool metal laid feverish on her palm but decided ignore it and resume to securing the heavy weapons on her shoulder.

Another angry roar and a series of frightened screams rattled her nerves yet she refused to waver at the thought of the situation outside.

“Mikasa,” Devon called, the attention of the raven haired girl turned to her, nodding. “C’mon, let’s finish this.”

Fire — blood — screams — explosions.

The list was dreadfully endless. With Mikasa to her right, they swung above the unfathomable condition of the town. Devon tried to avoid looking below but agonizing wails were impossible to ignore.

She knew it would be a mistake to succumb to the temptation and just peak downwards. Beyond the apathetic eyes she had been giving nowadays, was that frightened little girl hidden behind Wall Rose.

Looking down would mean remembering.

It was unclear whether or not she opposed to it or not. Does she truly want to revisit that horrible time in her life in a crucial time like this?

“Don’t.”

Her thoughts lurched back at Mikasa’s sudden intrusion. Devon felt her eyes burn at the side of her face, urging her to return the gaze. Mikasa had a glint of tenderness in her eyes as she stared at Devon.

“Looking won’t help anyone.” As if she had read Devon’s mind, had her thinking if her conflicted thoughts showed on her face as well.

“It won’t.” She agreed, exhaling a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. “Stand on that pillar, try to catch Eren’s attention — I’ll do the same on the that building at the left. Be careful not to be noticed by anyone else.”

The order came flying out of her mouth as Eren’s Titan form became more prominent to their vision. Mikasa swung to the direction Devon had ordered, leaving the latter to advance to her position.

Devon’s boots slid on the worn down roof of a house, fragile bricks now easy to pick apart, resembling a puzzle containing several missing pieces. She stalked towards the edge of the roof, squatting down to uselessly watch the treacherous scene unfold in front of her.

Eren turned, his eyes skimming through the civilians aimlessly racing away from him. Devon noticed how the large titan spun his head towards the right.

She had to squint to confirm that he did, in fact acknowledge Mikasa’s presence. A sigh of relief escaped her as she was sure of the exchange.

Past her relief was a gash of radiant light amongst the cauldron dark covered skies. Her eyes could hardly accommodate the brightness that invaded her sights but she could make out a form of a skeleton, slowly evolving with flesh.

She stumbled back at the thunderous punch the creature caught on its face. The tissues that haven’t fully developed yet squashed against Eren’s gigantic fist. Devon’s resistance to look away increased, with the amount of blows Eren delivered to the primitive titan as it wriggled uselessly below him.

A shot of a rifle snapped her attention away from the ongoing uproar to the source of the sudden gunshot. The thick layers of fog beneath the houses made it difficult to spot anything from where she sat.

At that moment, she hoped that Sasha and the others were able to place signal lights to ensure the clearance of enemies. She swayed her head hoping to catch a glimpse at anything suspicious from that direction but she was met with darkness and smog.

Devon gasped, hand abruptly clutching at the end of the roof as the ground trembled, followed by a loud groan which brought her attention back to Eren.

Her eyes widened at his state. His stomach now impaled in the center by a large pointy crystal lifting his limp body in the air. The titan seemed to have completed it’s transformation as it now stood, smoke seeping out of its shoulder, waiting for its arms to grow back.

She had never seen anything quite like it, despite being able to witness numerous unbelievable things in her days. The titan seemed to possess to ability to create structures using hardening, allowing it to make to spike it used to pierce Eren.

The strength this Titan possessed chilled her blood, instinctively look towards Mikasa. Luckily, she had her eyes on her too. And beyond the disaster, the distress that covered her features relaxed as Mikasa brought her palm up as a symbol to wait.

She turned her head back, fists balling tighter as the Titan grew a hammer on her hand, clutching the long handle. Devon repressed the urge to step in as it barreled the object towards an unmoving Eren, successfully smashing the crystal altogether.

Devon’s panic simmered down as a slightly smaller version of Eren’s titan emerged amidst the smoke.

Continuous flashes of light and booms of canons interrupted the fleeting solace Devon felt. Somehow, with all of those heavy weaponry, she was finally able to see the series of soldiers lined up nearly in front of Eren.

She saw his fingertips turn icy, incasing them in Titan hardening as he came up to cup his nape. He growled at his attackers, not noticing how to white fleshed titan swung back its hammer. He turned too late, only being able to provide his arms as a weak protectant.

Devon’s patience wore thin as she merely continued to watch as Eren was rid of his hands.

“The War Hammer Titan is a monster!” A joyful screech amongst the gloomy atmosphere pierced her ears.

War Hammer

“That’s what it’s called . . .” She muttered to herself, scowling at the name. “How corny.”

“It’s really going to finish off!”

Whoever it was, Devon wanted nothing more than to shut them up. Anxiety welled up inside her as the War Hammer Titan raised its weapon again, slowing as a figure — Eren — resurfaced from his Titan form.

She couldn’t help the feeling of a hefty weight being lifted out from her shoulders as she set eyes on his figure.

“Usurper, Eren Yeager,” The War Hammer spoke. “Do you have any last words?”

Although she could only see his back, a long inhale propelled her lips.

“Now or never, Mikasa.”

Loud and clear, Devon waited for it. As signaled, Mikasa’s form came rushing in the scene, almost too fast to be caught by the naked eye. She raised her arms, plowing a hefty sequence of thunderspears in the air and into the War Hammer’s neck, slotting it perfectly.

The release of the clip prompted its ear-splitting eruptions, blowing off its nape. Mikasa spun her body, eyes spotting Devon’s, an understanding nod between the two was exchanged and that was all it took.

She went off flying towards Eren, her heart pounding louder into her ears as she grew closer to his form. Before she could muster anything to say, Eren spoke.

“You guys actually came. . .”

Despite the lack of emotion on his face, Devon could hear the faint surprise in his tone. An unknown feeling of displeasure spanned on her chest as she examined the side of Eren’s face.

She noted the few but undeniably noticeable changes in his appearance compared to the last time she has seen him, reminding her of the many days they have been apart. His hair had grown past his shoulders, little stubbles have made it’s on his upper lip and — she would love to be wrong . . . she hopes she was because if she wasn’t mistaken, the vibrant turquoise hue in his eyes had dimmed into a spiritless pair of orbs.

The frown on her face didn’t falter, choosing to finally respond to him, “They were worried about you.” The admission seemed half-hearted yet she felt the need to tell him that in the moment.

“Eren,” In other circumstances, the hammering in her chest would absolutely delight her, but the one she was currently having flooded her with outmost dread, eyes piercing in to Eren’s own. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Devon found herself crouching beside him, as if he wouldn’t hear him if she stood. “You’ve murdered all these people —” She had to stop speaking, aiding the ache of her mouth as the words dawned to her. “No amount of reasoning could save you from this."

The heavy sigh she released helped lightened the tightness on her chest, looking at her feet, the heat of Eren’s Titan flesh seeping through her body.

“Eren,” The tense exchange was cut short as Mikasa landed beside Devon, calling his attention. “Please, let’s go home . . .”

“It’s not over yet.” At his claim, both girls’ features morphed into confusion.

“What —” Devon’s eyes widened, stopping the query on her tongue. “Motherfucker — “

The ground rumbled along with the rise of the War Hammer Titan. Slowly, it started getting up, its palm pressing against its head, pushing it back onto the body effortlessly.

“That’s impossible!” The incredulous tone Mikasa expressed was no different from the look that Devon gave to astonishing incident playing before their eyes. “I blew off its nape!”

“And I crushed it with all my strength,” Eren added, his monotone voice unwavering as he studied the titan.

“Mikasa!” Devon’s body acted before her mind, eyes laying on the sparks blossoming on thee Titan’s hand, a crossbow has come to life.

As an instinct, she grabbed Eren, a hand coming up to his waist, the other pointing her ODM gear at the first concrete she looked at. She fired the equipment, grapple shooting out. When it hooked on the infrastructure, she wasted no time to tug Eren out of the titan flesh and onto the air with her, just in time before the arrow hit their previous place.

It had been several minutes since the Scouts retreated back into the airship. Eren was able to devour the War Hammer, nearly getting to the Jaw Titan if it wasn’t for Reiner Braun’s unexpected appearance.

The loud cheers resonated along the walls, bouncing back outside as they celebrated a mission success.

Devon would be lying if she said she doesn’t feel the uneasiness leaving her chest, as her head weaved through the crowd, eyeing everyone’s condition.

Thankfully, no one was hurt, perhaps a bit of cuts and scratches but besides that, they were all well.

A smile slithered it’s way to her lips, watching her comrades. Floch leads the bunch, raising his fist in the air. “It’s a huge victory! The New Eldians Empire ends in victory!” He declared, earning gleeful shouts of affirmation.

His words, however, stabbed Devon back into a harsh reality, face twisting into a crestfallen frown. Determined to keep her thoughts at bay, glanced to the side, finding Jean, Connie and Sasha huddled close to the open door.

She sauntered to them, resting on her knees to be at their level. “I’m so glad you’re all safe . . .” She muttered, a grateful gleam in her eyes sparkled, throwing her arms around the three.

Sasha, being at the middle, curled both her hands around Devon’s waist, the other two doing the same in their respective side.

Connie, of course, had to clap back at the intimate moment, mumbling against Devon’s shoulder. “You smell like shit, Janea . . .”

They laughed, shoulders shaking. Devon extended her arm to smack Connie behind his head, making the latter flinch but grin as he spotted the glare she sent him.

“You’re one to talk,” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You look like shit.”

He stuck his tongue out, shaking his head at the brunette. Said brunette merely smirked before standing, landing a soft pat at each of their heads. “Good job, guys . . . I’ll just go check on Eren.”

They nodded simultaneously, understanding the look on Devon’s face as she turned back towards the hallway but not before hearing Sasha’s enthusiastic yell.

“Let’s celebrate and eat a lot when we get home!”

Devon looked back over her shoulder, flashing her a bright grin and nodded. “I call pork stew!” She laughed, heart warming at Sasha’s beaming smile.

As she went on her way, wooden flooring creaked beneath the weight of her boots, approaching the men contained in the area. Her eyes wandered down, noting how Eren was sat on the floor, a scout pointing a gun at him while Captain Levi glared right through his soul.

“Captain,” She announced her presence, garnering closer to them, inclining her head as a sign of respect

Levi didn’t look away, “Cheer up,” He spat instead, “Everything happened like you wanted,”

Maybe it was her buzzing mind, or the overall exhaustion finally catching up to her. But until she followed their gaze, she didn’t notice Zeke Yeager perched on the wall at the end of the hall, steam leaching out from where his missing limbs were once attached.

“Jenea,” At Levi’s voice, Devon snapped up to meet his eyes. “Bind him with this,”

Before she could react, Levi had thrust a wheeled rope on her hands, leaving her with no choice but to grip the braided strands. She didn’t get a chance to respond, seeing the Captain and his fellow squad member exit the room.

Suddenly, Devon recalls the short exchange she had with Levi before leaping into battle, The thought caused her to peer down at the same person that was their topic of interest was now at her hostage.

Eren was already staring back at her, making her eyes narrow the longer she looked into his. The turmoil sprouting at her conscience wasn’t a pleasant indication. Yet, she shut her eyes for a moment hoping to calm her aggression.

When she felt it was enough, she opened them back up, swiveling her head to Eren’s direction. He had his wrists offered to her, beckoning her to get to it.

Without a word spoken, Devon crouched down and began to swathe his hands together, placing a cloth between his palms to prevent him from slashing himself.

“I’m not going to turn into a titan in an airship.”

Devon kept her concentration at the knot she was forming, grasped pulling against the binds, further restraining his movements.

“You’ll never know,” She whispered, retaining her hands on his wrist despite accomplishing her task.

The silence was unbearable, yet Devon resisted the impulsive sentences bunching up her mouth. She wanted him to say something— anything that could possibly tame the anger she had for him.

Flickering lights on the hallway continued, baring the stiff aura that pattered heavily upon the narrow space. Devon and Eren very much indulged in their staring contest.

It was akin to glasses at the edge of the table, waiting for one to finally fall and shatter into microscopic pieces.

As aggravating as the soundless room is, Devon’s pride was far too great to break it, eyes boring into the orbs she once adored. She began to think to herself of the things that might have happened for Eren to be brought back to her this lifeless.

The more time she invested looking at him, the wrenched ache in her chest became torturous. She wasn’t entirely aware what came over her, but her hand was already poised up in the air, her palm connecting against Eren’s cheek.

A graciously blaring slap, echoed against the room, probably heard around the whole airship. His head banging into the wall next to him, relishing the strength of the contact

Even being the one to strike, Devon’s hand burned at the impact, making hiss, the other hand shooting up to soothe her stinging palm.

Her eyes were blurry when she looked back to Eren, cheek had started to redden. All the reserved attitude she had been building up the whole day demolished simply by entertaining Eren Yeager’s presence.

She knew it wouldn’t be pleasant but she failed to recognize exactly how distressing it would be. Her chest was heaving, palm clawing at the skin, hoping for the ache to lighten.

“Devon,”

She was wrong. The initial thought of having him talk flew out her mind when she finally heard his voice. In the quite space they stood in, it seemed annoying loud. Despite merely whispering her name, it was like he had yelled in her ear, which made her cover them as she was currently doing.

“No—” Her voice shook, failing to maintain the authority in her tone. “Shut the fuck up, Yegear.”

She spun on her heel, turning her back on him, rolling her head up to gaze at the wooden ceiling. Her breath was still uneven as she exhaled, running a trembling hand along her locks.

“Wha–what did you hope to achieve?” She asked, pouring out frustration at every word. “I really want to understand— just please . . .”

I don’t want to hate you, she wanted to say but decided against it. Deeming the phrase inappropriate for the situation.

Without even having her eyes on him, Eren was well aware of her raging desperation. He knew why she was insistent and what exactly she wanted from him.

But all he had to say was, “It’s for everyone’s safety.”

If Devon was a volcano, she would’ve exploded right then and there. The bubbling vexation coursing through her veins made her head spin.

“Never in my life . . . and I mean never — have I despised a phrase as much!” She chuckled, no humor could be detected in the smile she flashed Eren when she turned around. “Is that it? Does that make all of this— justifiable?”

The blaze looming up her throat whenever she became a tad mindful of his eyes were indescribable. It infuriated her as she took in the state of the pair. So much that she felt to need to shield them from her vision.

“I don’t know what else you’re asking of me.”

At his blunt statement, Devon had difficulties deciphering which of her swirling emotions she wanted to project due to the outrage and melancholy submerging her sane conscience.

The little energy she had left prompted her to merely gape at his slouched figure, knotted wrists sat patiently at his lap. She lost the ability to make sense of his actions as his glare punctured her soul, sending an uncomfortable twinge in her heart.

“What happened to you?” Her hand slid to her neck, rubbing soothing circles to aid her shuddering tone. “I was angry the night before we came here . . . and even then, I still hoped for your safety— I hated that you left but I continued to believe that you had a good motive,” She willed herself to keep her eyes on him despite the impending urge to do otherwise. “But seeing you now — I’m beginning to doubt your stand in all of this . . .”

Being honest was something she wanted to do, even if she was in no way prepared for Eren’s response. She had to let him know as much as she needed proper answers to the swarm of questions she had thrown at him.

She touched her shoulder, wringing out the knot that was starting to form, as she ignored the noticeable tremble of her fingers. “You showed no mercy to anyone in this city — “

“No one deserved mercy — “

“Not even those children?” She was quick to surface the topic again, wide eyed as she awaited his reply.

It was one that made her heart stop, breath hitched at her throat.

“We were children too when something similar to this happened, weren’t we?” The way he delivered his question with no anger, but pure confusion halted Devon’s arguments, instead opting to study his expressions.

He spoke of nothing else but truth. They were children when Wall Maria was breached by the Armored Titan. In spite of not being a resident of that town, she was coincidently present when it occurred.

A dangerous chill cascaded along her spine at the memory of her younger sister. The image burned into her skull for eternity, how her little body got brutally smashed by a massive concrete that wiped out every thing in the perimeter she was standing on.

Devon lived with the regret of not being beside her, and letting her run further ahead without knowing it would be the sole cause of her demise.

“And we weren’t at fault just like those children.” Her resolve quaked in the slightest but she stood her ground. “They didn’t have any idea what was happening — They were just as clueless as us . . .”

Exhaustion was taking over Devon’s sight, far too tired to have a sensible conversation with Eren except the stubborn part of her refused to waver.

“Will you really no tell me?” Her persistence was starting to sound desperate, as she searched his eyes for the tiniest bit of sparkle she used to admire. Eyes drooped, her hands tugged at the rope on his wrists, pulling him closer as if she’d see what she was seeking in this proximity.

She nearly smacked herself at how foolish her thoughts had become. Perhaps it came from the perplexing sentiments she had for the brunette, those sleepless nights her mind wandered to him, as she sat on her bed waiting for him to make his way back.

Devon had buried emotions she deemed improper, and became more secluded when Eren left. She barely opened up to any of her close friends, fixing her face into a defaulted smile at times she felt the most unwell.

To see Eren give her the look she had been dealing with every time she stared at her reflection shoved her into a state of panic, immediately ambushing him with questions she knew would go unanswered.

With a deep sigh, she dropped her hand from its place, resting it on her side. “Alright . . . it would be a few hours until we reach Parad — “

A powerful bang startled them, Devon’s heart lurching on her chest as it had dawned to her that it was a gunshot. She stood rigid, unable to function despite the sudden commotion happening just behind the door at her right.

Fear rippled through her system as the furious yells turned into desperate pleas. Her throat ran dry at the single name a mix of voices shouted.

“SASHA!”

That fear was physically resurfaced as her palms suddenly felt damp, blood turning sickeningly cold. She eventually willed herself to snap out of it, grabbing the doorknob, almost flinching at the freezing kiss on her fingertips.

Too occupied by her thoughts, she hadn’t realized, she had pushed the door open until Connie’s deafening yell broke her cloudy mind.

“DEVON—” Her eyes snapped towards the panicked voice, unable to ignore it. A wish for it all to go away was the first thing that came to her as she eyed the fimilliar head of reddish brown hair that laid unmoving on the floor.

She struggled to react, helplessly trudging towards Sasha. “Sasha—” A shake at the shoulder was her initial response, shock still fresh in her mind. “Hey— Sasha! Hold on, okay? Stay with me—” Devon’s palm snaked to grasp Sasha’s, pressing harder, hoping to transfer some of her warmth to her terrifyingly algid skin.

Devon’s lips came down to where their hands were connected, breathing tepid blows onto Sasha’s palm.

“Nico—”

Hope sparked in Devon’s chest at the sound of Sasha’s hoarse voice, deflating the moment she notcied the severity of her condition.

“Is dinner ready?” The sob Devon released pained her commarades as they watched on, tears falling from their eyes as well.

“Sasha— Sasha . . .” Devon’s pleas grew hopless, as she delivered an impervious squeeze on her palm. “Please— don’t leave me . . .”

Sasha’s name spilled from her lips repeatedly, noticing the delirious swarm in her eyes, knuckles bathed in unceasing downpour of hurt dripping from her green orbs.

An unbelievablely excruciating pang barreled on her chest, as she felt the weak grasp of Sasha’s hand turn limp on her own.

“N— NO! PLEASE . . .” Fright surged on her bones, shaking hands slamming onto Sasha’s shoulders. Devon shook her still form, movements lumbered due to the amount of tears clouding her vision. The headache she had earlier worsened terrible, as it was forced to process the horrific scene laid out in front of her.

The tips of her fingers felt numb, as she caressed Sasha’s freezing skin, index and middle digit crawling up the side of her neck, gently searching for her pulse.

Although hope was wearing thin, she still found the strength to press at the spot, pausing for a second before shaking her head.

Connie’s hand that was applying pressure to the gaping wound on her abdomen loosen, as he drew in a sharp breath.

Jean, still having his ears shielded by his palms, had found the courage to turn around to see a heartbreaking image that will surely be imprinted on his brain for all eternity.

A series of loud cries erupted around her, making her realize that she had stopped weeping. The weight on her chest still unbearable yet she felt far too numb to acknowledge it.

Her eyes drifted to the door she had been in before the tragic accident, disappointment bubbling up her throat, not at Eren but at herself because even then, she couldn’t bring herself to be angry at him.

A single question hung lax of the fragments of her wits.

Why?

Why did Eren choose to do what he did? Why did Sasha have to be a victim of this monstrosity?

No doubt, this war was to further worsen, Sasha won’t be the last one to suffer the end of this bargain.

The fire of unwavering adherence set ablaze in her remaining morals, determined to unseal Eren’s true motives for his repeated sentiment; for everyone’s safety.

Eren was not an enemy, but he does serve as a threath if he continues to feed them obscure reassurances that might put them in a danger like this. The enemy was the thoughts boiling in his head, caging him alone with those possibly sinister notions.

Devon had a great hunch that Eren gives vague answers because he was hinding something important, a plan he knew they wouldn’t agree on.

Perhaps it was her drained sanity thinking, but Devon have passed the stage of giving a damn as she let the thought worm into her brain.

If she can’t beat the enemy, she would have to join them.

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

A Spark In The Snow

Was gonna go for straight comedy but this wrote itself into fluff. Also it was gonna be a one shot but I decided to leave it open to possibly becoming a multi-parter if I have the time. But I tried to leave in the Azula/Daniela chaotic duo aspect I mentioned.

Summary: Azula is a fire in Alcina’s otherwise cold and desolate world. She brings a certain spark to the castle that is as vexing as it is endearing. Anyways, her daughters are fond of the girl so how bad can it be?

A simmering summer, Alcina decides, is more chaotic than a merciless winter. Fire is wild, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It leaps from one thing to the next, searing away all that which it touches. Winter leaves a frosty kiss but it can be dispelled and warded off. Winter is predictable, summer is strange, feral.

Winters is predictable. Azula is anything but. Winters has a knack for smashing windows--breaking anything with a glass surface, really. Azula sets fire to everything that will burn. Winters does it out of spite and malice. Alcina is convinced that Azula does it for the thrill or attention. She knows that attention is Daniela does it for chaos and companionship.

Alcina pinches the bridge of her nose as another thunderous boom resounds down the expansive hallway. She takes a hard and generous swallow of wine, this particular boom had sounded rather expensive. The shatter of porcelain, perhaps her favorite bathtub.

“What are you guys doing!?” Bela screeches. It is a noble thing that the girl is trying to do. Noble but pointless. Alcina has come to find that Azula and Daniela have become quite an unstoppable duo. A duo with such ferocity that even Winters has stopped coming by.

She isn’t sure where the girl had come from nor what sort of mutation has granted her the ability to wield fire in her hands but she is here and Alcina can’t help but feel a fondness for her. She is a small thing, absolutely teeny--even by comparison to someone who isn’t as tall as she. And mostly she is a charming and poised girl. Elegant and well-mannered. Even tempered, a break from the chaos. A refreshing break.

But with Daniela there comes to the surface something wilder. The girl’s laugh is far less than refined when Daniela points to a large crate and yells, “oh, what about that! Set that on fire!” There comes another loud bang and Alcina flinches. She is almost certain that, that had been a crate of clothing that she has been meaning to look through. She grits her teeth and grips the armrests of her chair. She loves her daughters, loves them more than anything else. But if she hears one more explosion…

.oOo.

Azula chuckles to herself as the flames lap at the wood. Her own mother would never let her get away with such a feat. She scrambles her way up a chair. Castle Dimitrescu is somewhat intimidating in its impressive size. There isn’t a single thing that she doesn’t have to ask one of the Dimitrescu sisters to help her reach.

When they aren’t around she has to quite literally scale counters and furniture. And the bed...she had thought her bed at the palace was large. The one she sleeps in now has room for several of her as well as a mongoose-lizard or two.

And it is no wonder, she hears the thunder of Lady Dimitrescu’s footsteps.

“OhHHh fUcK!” Daniela shouts. Before Azula’s reflexes have a chance to kick in, she snatches her off of the chair she had worked so hard to ascend. “She’ll never catch us.”

“And what if she does?” Azula asks.

“Then we’ll just burst into a cloud of flies and...oh wait you can’t do that.” She slows her pace to tap her chin. “Then we’ll just have to...set MORE things on fire!” She throws her hands up. Azula gives a yelp of surprise as her body is tossed into the air.

She catches herself on a chandelier and pulls herself onto its fixture. It bobs precariously though she can’t imagine that she weighs anywhere near enough to bring it down.

“Whoops.” Daniela winces from below.

Having successfully launched her partner in crime to oblivion, she is left to fend for herself.

“Where is your sister?”

“Which one, mother?”

“The fiery one.”

“Cassandra’s is in her room.”

Alcina inhales deeply. “Azula. Where is Azula.”

“Oh, right, yes. Well you see, she’s really small and so I may or may not have thrown her clear across the castle.” Perhaps her lie would have had more success if she hadn’t offered the chandelier a wink. Alcina reaches up in an attempt to pluck her down. Azula ducks under the woman’s hand but one misplacement of her hand has her tumbling to the ground.

With a most devious grin, Daniela lets out a screech and catapults herself into the air. She practically bodyslams Azula as she catches her and takes off into a full sprint. “Daniela, you get back here!” She hears Alcina groan. “Bela, catch your sister!”

Daniela takes Azula’s arm and positions it out in front of her. “Make fire!”

“Do you think that your mother will finally replace this hideous wallpaper if I just…” she holds the smallest candle wick of a flame to the wall and lets Daniela’s sprint do the rest.

“Our mother won’t have a choice. Oh! Maybe if we set all of...everything on fire we can finally redecorate the house. I was thinking of something more daring like…” she trails off. “Like we can take a whole bunch of man bones and string them up on the balcony like wind chimes. Oh and I saw this neat thing at Karl’s factory. I heard minimalist is in...which is exactly why we need to clutter this place up. I was thinking sofas in the middle of the hallway and lamps hanging form the chandeliers.

“Daniela, that sounds awful. Let’s do it!” Though she is nearly certain that it will end up driving her just as mad as it will drive Lady Dimitrescu.

Daniela comes to an abrupt halt and bursts into a cloud of flies as she collides with Bela who erupts into her own separate cloud. Azula lands with an oof. The fire, a testament to her success and thrill, crackles behind her. Bela reassembles with her hands on either side of her head, “what have you guys done!?”

“We don’t like the decore and wallpaper so we’re remodeling!” Azula declares more boldly than someone who has landed flat on the floor ought to.

Daniela lifts her off of the floor and turns her around to face the fire. “It’s…” she wipes a tear from her eye “...glorious.”

“You guys are the worst.” Cassandra grumbles. “I think that my favorite seat cushion was down this hallway.”

Daniela rolls her eyes. “Who actually bothers to pick out a favorite seat cushion anyways?”

“I do, Dani!”

Azula shrugs. “If it was in this particular hallway that it was an abomination to upholstery.”

“It’s not about the aesthetic! It’s about the feeling it gives your buttcheeks when they sink into it’s plush fabric.” Cassandra explains. “Haven’t you ever sat your ass down on something so fluffy it transported you to a new dimension?”

Azula shakes her head.

“Then how’d you get here?” Daniela asks.

Bela rolls her eyes, “because obviously comfortable seating is how you move from one universe to another.”

“The right level of booty comfort can go a long way.” Daniela insists.

“I hate to say it, but I think Daniela is right, Bela.”

With a fire blazing wildly behind her, Azula sits back and watches the siblings bicker. Such is the pattern that she has fallen into. It is thrilling, fun, and exhilarating. This world, wherever it is, is bizarre and uncanny. Messy and wild, and there is a sense of freedom in the chaos. In becoming part of the chaos. Something liberating that she can’t find in the Fire Nation. Something that compels her to shake away what remains of her overwhelming need for perfection.

.oOo.

Alcina finds that the fire child is much easier to manage when she is sitting upon her shoulder chattering away about the politics of her own realm and how she rather enjoys having three sisters instead of one aggravating brother.

And upon her shoulder, away from Cassandra and Daniela, Azula retains her more soothing, soft spoken demeanor. The one she takes up when looking over books with Bela. This is the topic of discussion today, “I’ve never read anything like this. The history of your world is quite intriguing.”

“I am glad to hear that you are getting comfortable here.” Alcina takes a seat, picks up her kiseru, and has a drag. The smoke trails up and Azula fans it away.

“It would be wonderful if you could get some smaller chairs, climbing these is just about as tiresome as some of my firebending katas are.” She absently kicks her legs at the air, offering Alcina’s chest something of a massage.

“I suppose that I can do that for you.”

“Perfect.” Azula claps her hands together.

For some time they sit in silence and then the girl speaks. “I’m glad that I found you. I don’t...I don’t feel like a monster here.”

Alcina furrows her brows. She has been around many a monster. By all means, she thinks it fair to call herself one. But the girl, this small, delicate thing… “why would you think that?”

“Everyone else does. My own mother…”

Alcina’s heart pangs again. Suddenly she doesn’t feel quite so much like a monster, “a mother who can’t love her child is no mother.” And for a moment she isn’t sure if she is speaking of Azula’s mother or of Mother Miranda. “A mother who makes her child feel insignificant is a monster.” She reaches up to stroke Azula’s hair.

“You don’t think that I’m a monster?”

This girl, this beautiful girl has been made to feel unloved and unlovable.

“Why would I think that, dear?”

She shrugs. “Daniel and I have set everything you love on fire.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You haven’t set yourselves or each other on fire.” She sighs. “I suppose that this castle was due for some renovations anyhow.” This seems to delight the girl.

“My mother had a fit when I set a single, withered rose on fire.”

“Things work differently here, as you are finding.” She rises to her feet. “It has been a while since I’ve had company on my strolls through the courtyard; my girls are unable to tolerate the cold. Would you join me?”

.oOo.

“Firebenders don’t much like the cold...mother.” It sounds strange to say on her tongue, but it feels perfectly correct. The woman’s face seems to fall. “But I’m sure you have something warm for me to wear while we’re out.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll fix you a cup of wine--if I remember correctly you prefer it without blood--and we’ll head out.”

“No blood, that’s correct.”

“Strange girl.” The woman chuckles.

She isn’t sure that she is the strange one here but she keeps it to herself while Alcina sets her back on her shoulder and makes her way into the dining room. Minutes later she finds that Alcina hasn’t any winter clothing that is even remotely her size. Instead, the woman bundles her up in a nest of blankets that very well may be Alcina’s own winter coat.

The outside world is cold on her cheeks. She finds herself pressing her hands against them as Alcina points out her favorite places in the courtyard, her favorite flowers and her favorite statues. Much like all else in this world, Azula has never seen anything quite like it. It is grand and elegant place as cold and grey on the outside as it is warm on the inside. It has many twisting, sharp spires and stone gargoyles to top them. In places it is broken, ancient. Gloomy and depressive in a haunting way that Mai would appreciate. “Your castle is beautiful, mother.”

“Thank you.” She smiles. “I am pleased to know that you don’t find it off putting.”

.oOo.

Azula burrows further into the blankets.

“Are you getting cold?”

“I’ve been cold.” She replies.

“I suppose that I’ve had my fill of nightair.” She cups her hand over the girl’s head, hoping to provide her with even just a little more heat. “I ought to check up on Daniela.”

Azula nods and leans into her chest, pulling the blankets tighter around herself as she does so. “Thank you.” She mumbles. “For letting me stay here.”

Alcina ought to thank her for staying. She can’t remember the last time that she has had company, human company that she found pleasant. Human company that didn’t find her terrifying and monstrous. She just hopes that the girl will never have to see her in her second form. She shouldn’t like Azula to look upon her with fear and disgust. She thinks that it is an inevitability. Everyone leaves her eventually. Everyone save for her daughters. This girl, she reminds herself, is her daughter. She likes to think that she wouldn’t leave.

“It is no trouble at all. I do hope that you will stay with me for a long time, dear.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Resident Evil #Azula #Alcina Dimitrescu #Lady Dimitrescu #Daniela Dimitrescu #Bela Dimitrescu #Cassandra Dimitrescu #Fanfiction

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

Text

you read my mind (better to leave it unsaid)

(x)

here you go @cringeycal i hate you <3

read it here on ao3

Calum’s not tired enough for this time difference.

Sixteen hours is too many. One day is not enough time to adjust to a whole new circadian rhythm. Their 7pm concert is 11am to Calum, and by the time it’s over it’s smack-bang in the middle of the day in Calum’s brain, and the fact that it’s dark outside is really, really fucking him up.

“This is really, really fucking me up,” he mutters, pulling the curtains of his and Michael’s hotel room shut with a swish.

“What is?” Michael’s voice echoes from the bathroom, where he’s brushing his teeth. It’s a strange choice, since Michael also brushed his teeth before the show and they haven’t eaten anything since then, but whatever.

“The fact that it’s dark outside and I feel like it’s the middle of the afternoon,” Calum says. He pulls his cap off his head and throws it aside, ruffling up the matted hair underneath. It’s nice and air-conditioned in the room, and the sweat sticking Calum’s shirt to his chest from the show is starting to dry. It strikes Calum that he doesn’t need to be wearing his gross sweaty t-shirt anymore, so he pulls that off, too, and throws it in the general direction of the hat.

Michael makes a kind of humming noise. Calum can hear the sounds of a toothbrush, and takes no offence at Michael’s non-answer. He kicks off his jeans and flops back onto the bed, revelling in the cool air on his sticky skin for a minute before sliding off to put on some clothes.

Michael traipses out of the bathroom. He’s still in full show attire, and he’s wearing the camouflage baseball cap from before, a pastel galaxy of lavender hair sticking out underneath it. Calum likes this colour on Michael. A lot of the time Michael makes his bizarre hair colour look good, but this time, the hair colour looks good on its own, which is a refreshing change of pace.

“You look tired,” Michael says.

Calum frowns. “I’m not. And no I don’t.”

“Fine, you look cosy.”

“That’s not the same thing at all.” The sweatpants and hoodie Calum have donned are cosy, but in his mind it’s still that lazy break between lunch and dinner where the only way to kill time is to play video games. He blinks owlishly at Michael. “You look…colourful.”

Michael snorts a laugh. The only colourful part of him is his hair; his attire is all-black, as usual, but Calum is pretty focused on the hair. Maybe the jet lag is getting to him more than he knows, because all Calum can think is that Michael looks yummy, deliciously kissable, and he wants to tangle his fingers in the lilac mess that is his hair and make it worse.

“You look…like you’re plotting something evil,” Michael returns, strolling towards Calum. He grins. “Stop staring at me! What are you planning?”

“I may be delirious,” Calum solemnly informs him. “What time is it?”

“Midnight,” Michael says without checking. He steps even closer. “Stop staring, you weirdo.”

“Make me.”

“No offence, but you look like you might snap and go serial killer,” Michael says. “I’m not kissing you, crazy eyes.”

Calum blinks. His gaze refocuses, flitting around Michael’s face too quickly, like trying to calibrate himself. “What if I kissed you?”

Michael shifts his weight, barely a foot away, and smirks. “That’d be okay.”

“I would never snap and serial killer kill you,” Calum says, frowning as Michael’s words finally pierce the thick haze of jet lag clouding his mind. “If I killed you it would be deeply personal and I’d leave a note and everything.”

Michael bursts into laughter. “This is why I say you’re insane!”

“I’m not insane! I’m adorable.”

“Adorably insane.” Michael calms down and catches his breath. “Well? Are you gonna kiss me or—”

“Stop calling me insane and we’ll just see,” Calum says, except then he kisses Michael anyway because he’s tired of not kissing Michael and this argument is not worth the time they’re wasting not kissing.

Michael’s hands immediately find their way to Calum’s waist, pulling him closer so they’re flush against each other. In the stillness of the room, Calum’s own heartbeat is loud in his ears. He wonders if Michael can hear it, or feel it, or if he’d find it strange if he could. They’re just friends who kiss. There’s nothing strange about that.

Anyway, Calum’s a man on a mission, and his palms slide up Michael’s arms and shoulders, framing his face for a second, then continue around the back of his head to the unexpectedly soft strands of hair at the back.

Victory.

Well, almost victory. His fingertips bump against the brim of the cap on Michael’s head, and Calum grabs the hat and tugs it off him. The gesture makes Michael choke on a laugh and pull away.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s in the way,” Calum insists, taking advantage of the pause to push Michael’s hair off his forehead. A blissful smile breaks across Michael’s face, but he shakes his head anyway like he has to at least pretend to mock every single thing Calum does.

“It’s part of my look,” he says. Calum drops the cap carelessly to the floor and wraps his arms around Michael’s neck.

“Don’t care,” he says airily. “My enjoyment of our kiss is more important than your aesthetic.”

Michael breathes a laugh. “Rude.”

“Rude of you to wear a hat and hide all this sexy hair.”

“Oh, I see. It’s all about the hair.”

“Yeah, duh.” Calum leans their foreheads together. “Pick a bad colour and this is over.”

“Better not pick a bad colour, then.”

Calum smiles. “Don’t think a bad colour exists for you,” he admits. And I don’t think anything could convince me to end this, no matter what I say.

Michael is quiet, watching him, and after a moment of silence he leans in to kiss Calum again, like it’s the only adequate reply he can come up with.

Calum threads his fingers through Michael’s lilac hair and imagines the colour staining his skin, leaving an amethyst residue on his fingertips. He drags his hands down to Michael’s face, imagines leaving a lavender trail, marking the trajectory of his touch. Smudging violet across Michael’s cheeks with his thumbs.

Michael doesn’t taste like lavender or lilac — he tastes like mint toothpaste — but the colours are so vivid behind Calum’s closed eyes that he can swear he can taste them on Michael’s tongue.

When Michael pulls away, Calum licks his lips and opens his eyes. He’s disappointed to find Michael looking like Michael, no extraneous hair dye anywhere, all pale and pink lips but no purple in sight beyond the disaster that is his hair.

“Um,” Calum says, catching up to his own train of thought. “I think I’m tired.”

“Wow,” Michael says. “Hard for me not to take that personally, Cal.”

Calum grins. He’s not sure if he’s tired so much as just ready to call it a night. Otherwise he risks ruining this perfect ending to their day. Any day that ends with kissing Michael can’t be that bad.

“Hey, I could keep going,” he says.

Michael shakes his head, then hesitates, then kisses Calum once more. It goes straight to Calum’s toes, to the tips of his fingers. Somehow, the last kiss is always the best one.

“Well I, for one, am fuckin’ beat,” Michael says when they’re separate again.

Calum resists every single urge to just keep kissing him. If it were up to him they’d never stop. The only reason he ever lets up is the promise that at least they’ll get to do it again the next day. Even now, with the post-show exhaustion catching up to him and Michael basically swaying where he stands — even now, he wants to steal one more, one for safekeeping, one to lock up in a memory box Just In Case.

That would be insane, though.

“We need to sleep,” Michael says. “Or at least I need to sleep.”

“Fine, I’ll sleep,” Calum says. “But dibs little spoon.”

Michael sighs. “Fine.”

Calum kisses his cheek, then leaps backwards and lands on the bed spread-eagle. He doesn’t even have a chance to readjust before Michael’s climbing on top of him like a baby goat or a particularly needy cat. “Oof,” Calum says. “Get off me, stupid.”

“Technically, I think this counts as you being the little spoon,” Michael observes, which is absolutely not true and complete bullshit.

Calum jerks his shoulder until he dislodges Michael from on top of him. “You’re still in your show clothes, you disgusting pig. Put on some pyjamas at least, Jesus Christ. I’m not cuddling with your sweaty arse.”

“Alright, fuck, chillax,” Michael huffs, clumsily stumbling off the bed and over to his suitcase. While he changes, Calum pushes the covers back and snuggles up underneath. It’s wonderfully warm with the blanket and the hoodie and everything. Calum sighs contentedly. “Don’t forget to turn off the lights,” he adds.

Michael finishes changing into sweats and a t-shirt and kills the lights. On his way back to the bed Calum hears him almost trip. “What the fuck is this?” Another pause. “Oh, it’s my hat.”

“Whoops,” says Calum. Michael finally returns to bed and crawls under the blanket where Calum’s made himself comfortable. “You looked pretty good in it. I just really— I wanted to touch your hair.”

Michael kind of laughs quietly. “And? How was it?”

“Delicious,” Calum hums. He grabs Michael’s hand and presses a kiss to his palm. “Very tasty. Would touch again.”

“You can’t— that doesn’t even—”

“Shh. Shhhhh. Just let it happen.”

Michael sighs. His arm wraps snugly around Calum’s waist, and Calum takes back his thoughts about jet lag. It doesn’t seem like such an issue anymore. “I love you, weirdo. Goodnight.”

“Love you too,” Calum says. He yawns, which leads to Michael yawning; they both giggle, but then silence descends, and Calum falls asleep surprisingly quickly after that, with Michael breathing in his ear.

#michael clifford #calum hood #malum #malum fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #how many different ways can i talk about the color of michael's hair challenge #hey who was i saying that my next fic would be a fic i had no idea about #amanda? look amanda i was right #who knew #written while tired

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 32

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: A light chapter that I hope you’ll all enjoy! It’s fluffy and fun...but there’s also something significant that happens in it. So PLEASE let me know your thoughts and what you liked about it! The feedback has been decreasing as we’re getting to the end, which is a little disheartening :)

; Flower Masterpost

“Hobi! Oh my god, try this. It’s so delicious.” You practically moaned out, almost wiggling with delight on the aluminium seat. It wasn’t too hot thankfully, the clouds a little overcast but the hoodie you wore combat any chill. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Because you were on vacation. And not the kind of vacations you were used to, which were usually a little weekend break here and there at the closest beach or some nature park. You didn’t have any kind of issue with those places of course but you’d always yearned to be able to travel even further. Explore other countries.

Which is what you were doing right now.

For your second anniversary, Hoseok had surprised you with two weeks in Italy. Two things about that had shocked you. Firstly, the very fact that you’d now been with Hoseok for two years. Secondly, that he’d saved up some of his much higher salary and chosen to take you to one of the countries you’d always wanted to visit.

You hadn’t even known that he’d managed to subtly arrange it with your manager, a woman that you liked and enjoyed working for now. Two weeks of vacation time had been booked for you quietly and he’d organised the hotel, flights and even buying new suitcases. Stuff like this only happened in fiction, or so you’d thought.

But here you were, in the heart of Rome. It had already been a week and you’d eagerly taken in the magnificent sites of the Colosseum, the imposing Pantheon and the ancient Forum. As a lover of history, every part of it had excited you and you’d happily dragged Hoseok around to read every single information stand available while begging him to agree to go inside them all.

Not that he’d taken much begging really, he was just as eager to see things as you were. The only difference was that he was excited because of all the fantastic photo opportunities he was discovering. He’d brought his top of the line camera with him and was going wild with it, finding all the best angles and lighting to bring Rome’s important buildings to life.

For once, you’d been more than happy to pose for his photos. Each picture had you smiling so brightly, happiness evident in every part of you as you just relaxed and enjoyed yourself.

Hoseok leans forward, mouth open and waiting as you scoop up a good amount of pasta onto your fork. Carefully, a hand underneath to avoid any fallout, you fed it to him and watched his reaction eagerly. He chewed for a moment, expression thoughtful before letting out a quiet hum of appreciation.

While Hoseok had opted to go for a pizza bianca, you’d instead chosen the intriguing-sounding pasta alla gricia. It was better than you’d thought it would be, given you’d been a little unsure over the ingredients at first and your boyfriend agreed with your thought process as he nodded with a smile.

“It is good. Do you want a slice of this? It’s also better than it looks. Never considered having a pizza without tomato sauce anymore but...when in Rome, right?” Rolling your eyes at him, you sighed playfully. That was his favourite line to say at the moment, he seemed to take great pleasure out of it.

Instead of responding, you just opened your mouth up as well and let him feed you a piece of the pizza. For a moment, you let the flavours simply roll over your tongue as you chew. It was slightly salty, with hints of the olive oil it was cooked with and layered with delicious parmesan that gave it a lovely cheesy kick.

“Urgh, why doesn’t Italian food taste like this at home?” You moan softly, wiping at your mouth with the napkin before taking a sip of water. Laughing softly, Hoseok continues to eat as he shrugs and you marvel at how easily he travels.

Even though he quite clearly doesn’t fit into the little family-run restaurant you’d both stopped at, he seemed to feel at ease no matter where he was. While you understand feeling at ease with him at home, it was strange to see that he was just as comfortable no matter where he was.

“Probably because the food at home has been filtered through like...a million non-Italian mouths or something. The same way Indian food is nothing like what it is actually in India, you know? This is...this is the real shit.” Pointing towards his plate, he grins and you sigh affectionately before reaching out and brushing away some crumbs from his mouth.

He was like a child sometimes when he ate. Constantly get it everywhere except his mouth it seems. It was cute.

“Do you think they’d give me the recipe if I asked? I’d love to try and make this at home. Authentically.” Murmuring to him, you glance over to the older lady who had come out of the kitchen. This seemed to be a truly family-run place in that she’d only gone in there to cook your food.

“Err, I don’t know. Do you speak Italian? Aren’t Italian grandma’s like...feisty or something?”

“Now you’re stereotyping.” Pointing the fork at him, he just grins and shrugs with amusement. You don’t argue any further with him though, instead focusing on cleaning up your plate with enthusiastic gusto. The two of you were planning to head over to the Trevi Fountain and walk around for a little while, enjoy some gelato and what remains of whatever good weather there will be today.

You were going to throw a Euro into the fountain to guarantee that you’d come back one day before kissing Hoseok silly in some alcove. Enjoy a little of Rome at night before finally heading back to the hotel. Maybe even some more kissing, who knows? You liked it with him.

Once you’d both finished, you went and paid. Unfortunately, you became far too shy to ask about any recipes once there, so instead, you just complimented the old lady in your broken Italian before smiling brightly and leaving quickly. Hoseok’s laughter at your inability to ask caused you to gently poke his ribs until he was asking you to stop.

The walk to the Trevi Fountain was long, but you found that you enjoyed every moment of it. Even though you’d only been here a week, you had fallen truly in love with Rome. An ancient city that has captured your young heart with its delicious food, stunning architecture and rich culture.

Even just a stroll in the evening like now, you felt like you were in some kind of romance film. From the subtle, warm filter Rome seems to have to its colour scheme to the old building’s, the cobbled streets in some areas and the way ancient ruins seemed to pepper the city liberally. You loved every inch of it. Including the graffiti and the not-so-tourist friendly areas. It was proof to you that the city was lived in, and had been lived in continuously for over two millennia.

Surprisingly, you didn’t talk much on the way there. Instead, you were too busy just admiring everything and simply enjoying the moment. If you were this in love with Rome already then you had the itch to not only get to explore more of Italy but also explore the world. And you certainly couldn’t think of anyone better to do that with than the wonderful man by your side.

“Where do you wanna go on vacation next? What about...Greece? Or maybe Japan? New Zealand and Chile are definitely on my list but I’d also like to go to at least one country in each continent. What about you?” Peppering him with questions, Hoseok looks at you with wide eyes before laughing.

“Woman! We’re not even through two weeks in Italy! And you’re already planning our next trip?” Snorting, he rolls his eyes before kissing your temple with more affection than his pseudo-outraged words. “I don’t know, I’m pretty open to anywhere I think. Maybe India? Try that real food like we’ve talked about? Egypt? We could try and visit all the super ancient places. What’s that place with the big, building thing carved into a mountain or somet? It’s all orange?”

“Petra? That’s in Jordan. I want to go there too!” He just smiles at you, squeezing your hand before squinting at the signpost just ahead. You’re finally approaching your destination and you grin as the two of you move through some of the little alleys that make up Roman streets before finally coming upon the world-famous monument.

“Oooh, it’s pretty,” You whisper, simply staring at it with awe. “The water is so...blue. How do they do that?”

The soft click of Hoseok’s camera distracts you, causing you to look over to him before raising a brow. He just smiles and shrugs, looking down at his screen and you presume he’s just taken another photo of you seeing something for the first time. It would seem he’s gaining a collection of your reactions.

“I know something prettier,” Hoseok whispers into your ear. Almost immediately you cringe, pulling away from him to scowl while your lips pull away from your teeth almost automatically.

“Oh don’t. Don’t be that cheesy guy.” You whine, half-heartedly fighting as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. He’s laughing though, so you know he’s not offended by what you’ve said.

“I’ll tell your mom that you don’t think she’s prettier than the Trevi Fountain then. What kind of daught-oof.” Bending over slightly, he holds a hand to his stomach from where you’d elbowed him. It doesn’t stop him from laughing though and you find yourself following along despite how annoying he can be.

“Here.” Handing you a Euro coin, Hoseok takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Standing upright again, he gives you that brilliant and beautiful smile that you’ve come to love so dearly over the last two years.

“I read about this, you gotta stand with your back to it and throw it over your left shoulder with your right hand. That means we’ll come to Rome one day.” Giving him a satisfied look, you do as exactly as you told him to and throw the coin with gusto. He takes a moment to watch the coin fly through the air before doing the same with his own Euro, sealing the promise of a future trip.

“How many coins do you think are in here? There are hundreds.” Hoseok whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist and cuddling you closely from behind. The two of you stand there for a moment and watch as others crowd around the Fountain, some throwing coins of their own in while others simply take pictures.

There’s plenty of tourists here, but thankfully your anniversary isn’t near the true tourist season. So while there’s a lot, it’s manageable in your view. Still, you wouldn’t want to be the municipal workers cleaning up after all this.

“Come on, I want some gelato now.” Pulling out of his embrace, you head towards one of the side streets that lead away from the Fountain, positive that you’ll find a gelato shop hidden away this close to a tourist trap. It’s what you’d do if you wanted quick money.

It takes no time at all to find a nice looking shop and you soon have a cone in your hand with three large scoops of delicious looking gelato topping it. One is just plain vanilla, another is pineapple while the last is strawberry. Nothing too outrageous, but just a combination that makes your taste buds dance.

There’s not much in the way of public seating, unfortunately, so the two of you just sit down on the curbside of one of the streets. It’s pretty deserted with only the odd parked car every now and then. A few more mopeds are parked a little haphazardly but you’re not too worried about them really, they’re small enough that neither of you would be a nuisance if they wanted to get by.

“Mm, this is good.” Hoseok hums and you look over, catching him at the very moment that he licks at his mint chocolate flavoured gelato. It’s a pretty innocent movement, but the way his tongue curls into the soft, frozen cream reminds you of how he uses that tongue for something and you shiver softly. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice and you quickly glance away. It doesn’t help that you’re now considering how cold his tongue piercing might be from eating that.

Quietly, the two of you simply enjoy your cold treat while the gentle buzzing of the tourists only a few streets away filters through the alleyways. It’s getting close to sunrise and even though you wouldn’t say it was cold, the air certainly felt cool enough to warrant you cuddling a little closer into the warmth of your hoodie.

“So, now that we’re just chilling for a little bit. I have something important that I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” Shifting slightly until he’s facing you more, you look up slowly to find him giving you a serious look. He’s got one of those ‘I’m about to ask you something life-changing’ looks. You’re not sure why you know that, but you can just tell instinctively.

“Are you about to ask me to marry you?” Blurting out the words, you slap your hand over your mouth as your eyes widen. Well, you certainly hoped he wasn’t now. If he was, you’d just ruined the whole moment.

Sure enough, Hoseok’s eyes widen at your words and he recoils a little, confusion mixed with shock painted onto his face.

“What? No! Why would you think that?” You’d laugh under any other circumstances if Hoseok had this kind of reaction to anything else. But he looks concerned as to why you thought he might be proposing, a hand resting on his chest almost like he’s trying to protect himself or something.

“Well...I don’t know! You whisk me away to Rome for a romantic holiday for our second anniversary? Then, after having a good time, you tell that you have something important to talk to me about and you look so serious! It was an educated guess!” Folding your arms over your chest, you hunch your shoulders over to make yourself a little smaller.

“I wasn’t going to propose. Did you want me to?” He sounds a little unsure then and you see the way his lips purse in thought like he’s wondering if maybe he should have been proposing or something. “And anyway, if I was going to propose then you’ve totally ruined the moment! It’s meant to be romantic and shit.”

Yeah, now he looks put out. His lower lip jutting out over how his non-proposal has been interrupted and you can’t help the laugh that leaves you at the sight. He’s too cute for his own good, honestly.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to not interrupt any romantic moment in the future. I promise.” There’s only the tiniest hint of sarcasm in your voice as you tell him that. Just a teeny, tiny bit. It’s enough to make him give you a droll stare though, reaching out to gently poke at your cheek with his index finger.

Grabbing his hand, you smile at him innocently before pressing a kiss to the soft flesh of his palm. For a moment, he lets you before shifting until he’s holding your hand in his own. Tilting your head at him, you wonder what he had been about to tell you and he understands the silent question with a small smirk.

“So, anyway. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. Just before we flew out here, and I mean literally just before. Like...only two hours before we went to the airport, so don’t get too mad at me if you’re going to get mad. But that’s beside the point. Anyway, our landlady called me.” Hoseok pauses for a moment, letting you compute that information before carrying on.

Given he was far more comfortable talking on the phone, you’d elected to have him be the point of contact for anything related to the house. You figured he’d be able to sort out any of the non-important stuff by himself and anything important would be discussed by you both. Like right now.

“Oh...have we done something wrong? We signed the new lease properly and on time, right?” The two of you had signed a lease for another year just the other month. You liked the house and felt fully settled in it now, not wanting the hassle of having to move anywhere when you’d made it feel like a home. Thankfully, your landlady, Elsie, was lovely and had dealt with any issues quickly and efficiently.

“No, we’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just...she told that she’s going to sell the house. She’s moving across the country to be closer to her family as they’ve all moved away. So she’s selling up everything here to fund her move to a retirement home over there. We’ve got a few months until it’ll probably be sold and will need to move out.” He goes to carry on talking but you’re gripping his hand tightly, worry flickering to life inside you and anxiety following quickly after.

“What! She’s selling? But...but what about us? What do we do? Oh god, we need to find somewhere that’ll let us take Kasumi and-” You’re quieted by Hoseok’s finger on your lips, a gentle smile on his own that seems oddly calm for the bombshell he’s just dropped.

“If you’d let me finish...I thought you weren’t going to interrupt anymore?” Teasing you lightly, he taps your lips before sighing and shuffling on the hard curb. Looking in both directions, he takes the opportunity to stretch his legs out, the black Converse on his feet looking just as dirty as ever.

“What I was about to tell you, was that she told me that we’d been some of her best tenants even though we haven’t been there too long. Because she wants to sell quickly and get moving, she then asked if maybe we’d like to buy the house. First dibs on it. It’s going to go up for a reasonable price and I know we’ve both been putting money into our individual savings accounts for the last year. I mean, I can afford the deposit if necessary and I’m pretty sure we can get a nice mortgage.” Staring at him with wide eyes, you don’t quite realise that your jaw has dropped until he’s affectionately closing it with bemusement.

“Also, before you say anything. Let me just...say my piece here. It’s a good price and well, I’d like to do it. We’ve been together two years now, I love you and I can’t imagine my future without you. So...it’s not a marriage proposal but it is a ‘would you like to take a leap of faith and purchase a physical house with me that will require a mortgage for many years?’. As I said, I’ve got enough saved up to cover the deposit and...well...I know my parents will put money in. What should’ve been my sister’s college fund instead got turned into a ‘whenever you buy a house fund’, despite me telling them to donate it. So...we can get a small mortgage. Easily manageable.” There’s no need for you to ask if he’s thought about this because it’s incredibly obvious that he has.

So instead, you simply watch him in stunned silence. He wanted to buy a house with you. The house you currently lived in, that had become your home for over a year. Not just your home, but the safest place you’ve ever felt outside of your parents home. And he wanted to make that permanent.

Or at least, as permanent as you can get it without having to pay out lots of legal bills to get it all sold. This was a big move. A huge step in your relationship. Hell, in your life. A house. Buying a house. And you weren’t even thirty yet!

“I have some saved up,” Whispering, you cast your eyes down to instead focus on his hand as you gently trail along the veins and tendons along the back. “Probably not as much as you but enough to help.”

“Okay...what if you keep that money. And if we buy it, then we can use that money to start doing some of those home improvements we’ve always wished we could do? Like a new fence.” Gasping softly, you’re suddenly taken away from the fact that you were being faced with a big decision because your excited mind started to run away with you. While you weren’t a big fan of change, you were surprisingly a huge fan of causing planned change.

Which meant you loved decorating or building things. Moving the furniture around in a room and decorating everything into something entirely new was so incredibly satisfying. Plus, Hoseok was right. You’d spent the last year fantasising to him about all the stuff you would improve or change in the house if you could.

Because that’s what adult life was about. Getting excited at the prospect of new fencing.

“Oh my god, yes! And a new roof! Finally, get rid of those ugly tiles. And we can pave over the driveway so it doesn’t have that annoying gravel that gets everywhere. Can we redo the backyard entirely? I want a porch from the back door and then it leads down-” Laughing in amusement, Hoseok gently squeezes your hand before kissing your cheek when you look down in embarrassment.

“Okay, we can make a plan of all the DIY things we want to do. But I just need to know for the moment...would you agree to buy it? With me? We can sort everything properly when we get home, plan out the money and apply for the mortgage and all that. I just want to know for now.”

You don’t respond for probably half a minute, causing Hoseok to frown slightly. But then you almost burst in excitement, jumping up and dancing on the spot in uncontrollable excitement. Hoseok wasn’t expecting it, his eyes widening in shock while his hands are reaching out to you as if he was worried you were going to fall.

“Oh my god! Buying a house! This is...oh my god. Hoseok! You want to buy a house with me?” Reaching for his hands, you half tug him up and he snorts while catching his balance. Resting his palms on your hips, he brings you to a halt before grinning down at you.

“Yes, I want to buy a house with you. I mean, that’s why I asked. So is this a yes? You're an impossible woman, you know that? It’s not a marriage proposal but I’d still quite like a yes from you…” Trailing off, he pouts slightly and you reach up to gently flick at his lip ring.

“Yes. I mean, we need to talk more seriously about it and sort out the finances but...yes. As long as we can do all the things I want to. Like new doors inside. I hate the doors we have now, they’re so annoying.” Hoseok sighs like he’s got the weight of the world on his back before dropping his forehead to your shoulders, arms wrapping around your waist and hugging you tightly.

“Okay, okay. I give in, we’ll make a list of all the things we want to change later. But you realise we have to buy the place first, right? And then save up again to make all these home improvement changes? It’s not going to be cheap.” You don’t hear him though, giving him a quick kiss before humming to yourself as you visualise your house as it is and your house as you want it to be.

Watching you closely, Hoseok lets out another breath before smiling and shaking his head. Well, at least you’d said yes.

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Note

Please, please, please can we have a second part to jealous Maxwell 😫.

Hmmm….I had a feeling y’all would do this to me, so here we are. Enjoy! Also, this is basically just dirty, dirty smut. 18+ only, please and thanks! Also, if you don't like some rough smut, don't read!

Part 2 to THIS!

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Since you want to be a brat,” Maxwell’s lips barely left yours as he all but kicked open the door to your bedroom. Your hands were all over him as you worked to tug off the velvet suit jacket he was sporting and he was more than eager to assist, hastily tossing it onto the floor, “you’ll get treated like one. Until you learn to be a good girl.”

“Your threats are empty, Maxwell,” you smirked as you kicked off your heels. He grabbed your chin in his hand, his grip firm but still gentle as he forced you to look into his dark eyes. Normally they were a rich, honeyed brown, but now they were dark, almost completely black with a predatory look in them. You grabbed his wrist and moved a few fingers to your mouth, sucking on them eagerly as you left them covered in your rich, red lipstick, “what if this is what I wanted?”

“Get on your knees,” he worked hard to keep his composure as he hands went to your shoulders and he slowly pushed you to floor. Before your knees hit the ground, he tossed a pillow under them, ever the gentleman that he was, “you know what to do.”

"Hmmm,” you hummed in content as you reached for the button and zipper of his trousers, his pants already much tighter than before. You palmed him for a moment before slowly undoing the zipper and letting them pool at this feet before repeating the action with his underwear, “all for me?”

“Good girls don’t talk back,” he hissed as he watched you spit into your hand before taking him and started to slowly stroke along length. He was was hard, so hard already, precum already beading at the tip. He’d been trying to remain the picture of calm and composed since the moment he had spied you earlier. There was something about seeing you in that little black dress and those heels with that red lipstick that always sent him over the edge. Which you were fully aware of, of course. Your outfit for the evening had been very strategically picked.

“I never said I was a good girl,” you shot him a cheeky wink. He opened his mouth to say something else, but you beat him to the punch, talking him into your mouth and completely silencing him. Oh yes, you were fully aware of the hold you had over Maxwell Lord.

A hand went to the back of your head, holding you down on his cock as you sucked him off. Soon there was only the sounds of Maxwell’s light moans and you almost gagging around him. You put your hands on his hips as you encouraged him to move. With almost any other man you would abhorred the idea of letting them fuck your mouth, but with Maxwell, there was something…very appealing about it.

“Come on, love,” you said as you pulled off of him, wiping away a few of the stray tears that had rolled down your cheeks, “you know you want to. I want you to.”

That was all it took before he put his hand back on your head and pushed you onto his cock. He held you there for a moment, murmuring a slew of curses before he started to fuck your mouth. If you were able to, you would have been offering him a victorious little smirk. But instead, you did your best to make sure he was enjoying himself. Of course he was.

It wasn’t long before you felt him twitch in your mouth, dangerously close to cumming. It really hadn’t taken much on this particular evening, but then again, you’d been trying to get him riled up all evening.

“You’re going to swallow it all,” he insisted through gritted teeth as you batted your lashes at him. It only took a few more rough, sloppy thrusts before he was cumming in your mouth. You’d pulled back and opened your mouth, waiting until he’d offered you every last drop he had before swallowing it all.

You wiped your mouth as he out his hand to gently help you to your feet. Maxwell carefully wiped away the last few tears and cleaned the smudges of your lipstick, which was honestly beyond saving at this point. Before you could make any smart remarks, he kissed you; it was surprisingly delicate and soft for how rough he’d just been with you.

“I’m not done with you just yet,” he whispered against your lips before pulled back, and turning you around you were facing the bed. His large hand went to the zipper at the nape of your neck, and he slowly pulled it down. You shrugged out of it and let fall to floor. You had skipped wearing a bra, and were left only in a pair of lacy, cheeky panties. His hands were all over your ass as he yanked them down and let them join the dress.

“Max,” his name was a reverent whisper off your lips, and you were about to asked him for more, but his hand quickly gave you a harsh smack. A sound of delight left your lips as you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second, “please.”

“You like this, don’t you?” he brought his hand back down to your hand ass, spanking you a few more times, and all you could do was bite your lip to keep from crying out, "look at you, pretty girl. So needy...apparently this is the way to get you to listen."

"Please Maxwell," you tried to grab his hand but he gently swatted yours away, instead he gently nudged you onto the bed. You land on the soft, plush blankets with a small oof.

"What is it that you want?" he asked as he stood between your legs, his fingers raking softly over the skin of your thighs, "tell me."

"You," you mewled at him, wishing he would just touch you already, "please, Max. I need to feel you."

"Ahh, so you can be good," you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. You were about to make a smart remark but he cut you off but sliding his fingers between your wet folds, touching you lightly and only for a brief moment. It wasn't nearly enough, "you love this, don't you? You're so wet. All for me?"

"You're such a bastard," you almost laughed, "God, I love you."

"I love you, darling," he promised, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. A tender moment but it quickly ended as he put his hand under your hips, making it so you were on all fours, "but now, you're mine."

"I'm yours alwayssss," your words were cut off in a sound of pleasure as he entered you, quickly bottoming out. You felt so full and warm, and wished this feeling would last forever, "Maxwell."

His hands had your hips in a vice like grip as he wasted no time in pounding into you. It was rough and brutal - but oh so delicious.

"Fuck," he hissed as you pulled up and held you against his chest. He buried his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nipping at your skin, "you feel so good."

"'m not gonna last," you said as you reached behind you and ran a hand through his golden locks.

"You're going to cum for me," he growled in your ear, "and I'm going to fill you up."

That was all it took before you saw nothing but stars and reached your high with him following close behind, spilling inside of you. You all but collapsed on the bed, pulling him on top of you, a happy sigh escaped both as you tried to catch your breath.

"You're an ass, Maxwell," you laughed as you turned to kiss him.

"I love you, little brat."

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ww84

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uniasus · 3 years

Text

Dogs & Ruins

Doing a double hitter tonight - this summer of whump story covers days 9 AND 10. It’s also a follow up to Thin Ice, though no need to have read that one.

Read below or on Ao3. (I’d rec the latter, it’s roughly 1.5K)

----

“Shit,” Gwaine said, doing his best to slide to a stop before he hit the wall. His boots slid in the leaf litter. He turned to head back out but ran into Merlin.

“Oof!” Merlin said as they collided. He fell to the floor, but Gwaine kept his balance. Behind them, the sound of yipping dogs got louder.

“Dead end!" Gwaine said, pulling Merlin to his feet and leading him further into the ruins.

They'd been doing nothing but exploring, taking time away from Camelot. Gwaine didn’t know if Merlin realized, but he’d purposefully led them outside of Camelot’s borders. It felt safer for what he wanted to do, but he’d never imagined stumbling across a pair of bandits. He for sure didn’t expect them to have trained hunting dogs.

Gwaine ran down what he thought was an alley at one point in the past. The old stone buildings here were of various heights, some walls intact, others crumbling or harvested. Thankfully, the place seemed as maze-like to him as it did the bandits, for they’d not be cut-off or herded while trying to flee. But who cared if the men caught up to him and Merlin, the dogs were faster. And had sharp teeth.

Behind him, Merlin stumbled. He went down with a curse, but before Gwaine could turn around and help him Merlin was on his feet and running after Gwaine again. Left, right, right again. Gwaine hadn’t thought the ruins were this big earlier, and parts of them felt familiar. Just his luck he’d lead them in circles.

“Here!” Gwaine ducked into a building. Two of the walls were tall enough to hide behind while sitting, the other two gone to rubble. He threw himself into the corner, chest heaving. Merlin fell beside him, breathing heavily.

“We need to get out of here,” Merlin gasped.

“You’re telling me. Do you think you can lead us out?”

“Me?” Merlin turned to stare at him.

“Yeah.”

“What makes you think I can when you couldn’t?”

“A hunch.”

In reality, that hunch was the memory of Merlin’s eyes flashing gold in cold river water, both of them trapped under ice.

The barking got closer. Worse, Gwaine could hear the two men talking nearby. They could run for it, or sit here and hope -

“Nice dog,” Merlin said as the beast rounded the corner.

It snarled, slowly stalking into the ruined building. The second dog slunk in too, both of them showing sharp teeth.

“I think they found them!” one of the bandits cried.

Gwaine slowly rose to his feet, hand on his hilt. Trapped in here with two dogs blocking the exit was bad enough. Trapped in here with two dogs and two men would be worse.

“Do you have meat in your bag to toss them, Merlin?”

“No. Why would I? Nice dog. You don’t really want to bite us, do you?” Merlin also slowly stood, hand palm out in front of him toward the hunting dogs.

Gwaine noticed blood on his palm. “You’re bleeding!”

“Just a scrape from when I fell,” Merlin said, not taking his eyes off the dogs. “Easy there. Nice dogs.”

“Good boys,” a new voice said. The two bandits came into view and stood behind the dogs. The shorter one gave Merlin and Gwaine a once-over. He dismissed Merlin fairly quickly, but his eyes lingered on Gwaine's sword and leather gear.

“Hand over the sword,” the taller bandit said. “Still in the sheath, or I’ll whistle for these dogs to attack.”

“Wouldn’t you rather just fall into a nap?”

Everyone turned to look at Gwaine, befuddled. Gwaine only looked back at Merlin, hoping that despite the fact they hadn’t had the conversation Gwaine wanted to yet, Merlin would still catch on that he knew about Merlin’s magic and was okay with the man using it.

“Yeah,” Gwaine said, eyes still locked with Merlin’s blue ones. “A good, golden sleep.” He put up his own hand, matching Merlin’s, and wiggled the fingers.

Merlin blanched. He looked more terrified at the idea that Gwaine knew about his magic than the dogs ready to bite into their legs.

A bandit whistled and the dogs jumped, one to each of them. Gwaine brought his sword out in a flash, swiping at the dog. It shied away, twisting to find another opening. Merlin yelped and the other dog growled, but Gwaine had no time to look. He hated fighting animals and dogs worse of all. They were too low for proper sword swings. To make matters worse, the bandits had trained the dogs to fight with them. The taller bandit rushed him with a short sword and the dog took to nipping at Gwaine's legs. He had to alternate kicks at the dog and unbalanced sword swings at the human, swearing the entire time.

“Merlin! I really do think-”

The human and dog dropped to the ground.

Gwaine stared as he panted for two breaths before looking around. The other dog and bandit also lay on the stone, inches from Merlin. Merlin sat on the ground, hunched over to clutch his bleeding leg.

"Shit." Gwaine dropped to the ground next to Merlin, supplanting Merlin's hands with his own. The blood was warm and still flowing. "Can you heal it?"

"Heal it?" Merlin's voice was high with fear. As much as Gwaine wanted to soothe it, he had to deal with his own rising panic at Merlin's dog bite.

"Yes. Heal it."

"Um, no."

"No?" Gwaine looked up from the wound to Merlin's face. The other man wouldn't meet his eyes, suspiciously focused on digging through his pack.

"No," Merlin repeated.

"Merlin, I'm not upset with you. I want you to use your magic to heal yourself."

Merlin blushed. "I suck at healing spells. I literally can't heal myself."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Move your hands."

Merlin poured water over the teeth marks, the best cleaning he could provide right now, then Gwaine helped him put on an ointment and wrap his leg. It was only as he helped Merlin to his feet to begin limping out of the ruins that Gwaine turned his attention to their would-be killers.

"What'd you do to them?"

"Exactly as you said. Put them to sleep. They'll wake up soon, it doesn't last more than two hours."

"We're not getting far before they wake then."

"We will if we hide their clothes."

"Ah, Merlin. This is why I like you."

They'd talk more seriously about Merlin's magic later, but Merlin already knew the important bits: Gwaine knew and he didn't care.

#fic rec #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #sir gwaine #magic reveal reveal #summerofwhump #summerofwhump9 #summerofwhump10 #animals #trapped #my fanfiction

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sonicthecringehog · 3 years

Note

you think me saying someone doesn't care about you is really abusive? yeah i see you posting about me in your discord.

TW: ABUSE; R*PE, SUICIDE, GASLIGHTING. Alrighty gather 'round children - I think I know exactly who you are now so I'm going to lay it down for you, maybe this is me being a sociopath with a victim complex as ableist as that sounds to my followers. Allow me to educate you, even if you think this is manipulation too~ Now, I may have grown up very privileged - considering my mother had escaped literal poverty, and my father escaping a cycle of intergenerational trauma from actual abuse. I will never deny that and I am grateful for all of the things I have and have worked hard for myself. But dude I have clinically diagnosed PTSD that I only just found out about last week after spending a few days in an actual psych ward - they genuinely thought I possibly had either bipolar disorder or schizophrenia because of how bad of a state I was in, I couldn't eat or sleep for days. I learned that when I rushed into a convenience store crying and shaking, and just apologizing constantly because I didn't even have a mask and my phone was dead, so I had no idea how to get to the hospital. I did not want to be turned away yet again out of looking like a walking stereotype (looking at you, Karens). And just before that, confession I broke into a friend’s house because I took his word literally that the door is always open, and someone convinced me I was gaslighting the both of them which is exactly what sent me spiralling to begin with. But anyway, the people at the store were really understanding even if it was just a liability thing, and they called the police for me, and the police contacted a social worker for me to get my story out and they all reassured me that I was doing the right thing - and eventually, I got the help I needed and I realized it's time to take back my life once and for all.

Not even strong antipsychotics like olanzapine, what I'm currently prescribed with, helps me in those times. I wake up with cold sweats, I have constant nightmares I don't tell people about because I don't want to fuck them up the way I got this way. And now I understand why my aunt from my dad's side of the family who was apparently schizophrenic took her own life, and never told anyone her struggles either. And why my dad was so overprotective of me for so long. You see, I live in constant fear for my life because I have dealt with actually violent, clinical psychopaths who only think for themselves and will instead lie through their teeth to make it seem like they'd changed. And they stalk you or just cling onto you, to try and find every little detail about you to use as ammo against you because they know they can, and will manipulate people into thinking you're the one abusing them and manipulating everyone around you until they have no use for you anymore. Lots of shit happened but honestly if I just accepted that "no one cares" and I just learned to "shut the fuck up and think before I speak," like my actual abusers would say... I'd be a single mother living in poverty right now, and I would probably have lost custody of that child to my one abuser at that time because he is exactly like this. I don't like talking about it because I know how triggering it is for some and this might blow up again like a lot of my "controversial" posts, but if I didn't accidentally stress and overwork myself into having a miscarriage in the bathroom at my work, I would have become the walking stereotype my other abusers would try to implant in people's minds. And I feel horrible and responsible for all the shit I'm causing now, because I know of people with diagnosed NPD or ASPD and they're trying to better themselves, and do their part in the world without hurting people. You really can't win no matter what side you're on. Hell, I developed a saviour complex over the course of a few years because I've seen some vulnerable people get taken advantage of like this, too without ever understanding why so they constantly find themselves being abused without realizing it, it's heartbreaking to me. I was r*ped at 7, not from the stereotypical creepy uncle. But a girl my own age who I'm pretty sure was abused herself, which is why I never held anything against her. Maybe it's my Stockholm Syndrome talking again. Regardless, I learned that you can't change a person. The only person you can change is yourself. However, sometimes those strangers who show basic human decency knowing one's past, are that ultimate kick in the ass to motivate people to save themselves.

So let this ask post be a lesson to all of you. These kinds of abusers I had also knew exactly how to dogwhistle me to try and get a reaction, exactly what to say and how to act in front of authority figures - to manipulate them into thinking I was the abuser or whatever ableist walking stereotype they wanted people to think. Hence, I was gaslighted into thinking I was on the autism spectrum my whole life by the people around me growing up, and that my close family and friends were the “real” abusers even though they were trying to help but didn’t know how... without these people even realizing who the real culprits were. Growing up being The Girl Who Cried Wolf even when you did nothing you were aware of, fucks you up for life, my friend. And that's exactly what they wanted. Maybe I do need a break from social media as even my family doctor says, maybe I do need to let myself be "cancelled" again to grow stronger from this. Because I'm not saying you specifically are abusive or a bad person per se, because I don’t even know who you are, I could have easily deleted and ignored this. But just let people live and stop trying to take away what little innocence they have left that they lost at a very early age... out of being too comfortable in your own magical fantasy world of self-pity to get your own shit together. Because shit like this is exactly why I overwork myself and get these "manic" episodes as my abusers called it, as live in fear that I might actually get shot one day when things seem to finally be stable and peaceful. Hell, I might never be able to get a real job because of shit like this. But if you want to report my posts again on my Instagram which I'm pretty sure was you at this point, go right ahead. Because you need to grow the fuck up... and to the other people reading this, don't ever let anyone tell you that no one cares or your feelings aren't valid, because there are people who do understand and will help you, even if to them you're just a passerby on the street. Because people do care.

This kind of cancel culture and bullying people out of getting help without giving them a chance to explain themselves, while doxxing and overanalyzing every post one says to use against them... has been so normalized in our society that we often do glorify the people who show basic human decency. When it should have been the standard all along. On to the point, I wish you all a wonderful journey to a beautiful recovery too - I might not be active for a bit because I think I need a break ^_^'

TL;DR: Don't feed the trolls, kiddies, but don't let them win out of fear that no one will believe you even with concrete proof. To make a bad Sonic reference - if you see someone abusing their power over you and doesn't want you to thrive because they think you're nothing more than some welfare queen attention whore... THATS NO GOOD~

(Also excuse all the edits, I’ve been spiralling mentally because holy shit I don’t appreciate being stalked and doxxed y’all regardless of who is doing this... so I’m keeping this post up as a reminder to all of you to just not feed the trolls and keep moving forward. Hell, someone on Snapchat kept stupidly adding me by my number for a few months on and off, so this is why I get in these situations where I’m kiiiinda scared for my life. I admitted myself to the hospital but ended up leaving after asking for resources for these kinds of situational crises. Oof. ^_^”)

Anyways, toodle-oo fuck you too bitch. ;)

~ Serena

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downwiththeficness · 4 years

Text

In the Bond-Chapter 4

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~5,600

Warnings: Violence, Gore

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

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In hindsight, leaving her perch was the wrong decision. Lilah knew that. But, she couldn’t sit on the roof and watch her friends get ambushed. A move she wouldn’t even have to make if they’d been wearing the comms, like she asked. But, no, the effort it took to synch several ear pieces to the same network, safeguard that network from outsiders, just so they’d not only have extra eyes but extra ears didn’t mesh with their old school style.

It wasn’t as if Lilah was going in completely blind or empty handed. She’d gotten her order in the previous day and spent a little time with it, firing off a few rounds. Richie had given her a clip full of shiny new bullets, and Lilah thought it was time to use them.

She stepped out onto the street, reflexively looking both ways. It was a useless gesture. The little pack of warehouses was abandoned, the perfect place for a nest to form. This particular nest was working its way through the nearest town, picking off the homeless and the outsiders first. In a few months, they would be hitting the homes, the schools, and the churches. Seth was lucky he’d gotten the tip about it early, before they could take too many.

As quietly as she could, Lilah crept to the window of the building opposite where she’d set up her computer and the controls for demolition. The plan was to funnel them all into the building as they returned from feeding, then blow the place, taking the whole nest out in one go. They (Lilah) expected that it would take some time to get the explosives placed. What they didn’t expect was an early return of a few culebras. Before Lilah could get a word of warning out, Seth had hauled himself down the stairs from their makeshift hub on the rooftop, followed by Richie, who had given a long suffering sigh and followed suit, tucking his glasses into the breast pocket of his jacket.

Lilah peered through the window, eyes wide as she took in the fight. They were doing pretty well. Richie had his game face on, fangs flashing as he threw someone across the room. Seth had another on the ground, beating them senseless with what looked like a tire iron. All in all, not too bad a situation. She still didn’t understand why Seth had needed to come down here to begin with, but he had never been one to engage in a risk analysis—not when he could solve the problem with his fists.

As she continued to watch him fight, Lilah caught the anger in his face. He raged against his opponents, swinging hard and fast, giving no quarter. He’d been doing that a lot, lately—sublimated fury bursting forth untethered by any kind of control. Long after the battle was over, Seth would continue to fight with a singular focus. It was a blind spot that had caused this very situation.

The group of culebras she’d seen sneaking in through the side were approaching fast, picking up Seth and tossing him off their friend. Lilah did the only thing she could think of. She leaned down and grabbed a rock from the ground, used it to break the window, and took aim. The first shot took one by surprise, his body falling to the floor for Seth to finish off.

Looking over his shoulder, Seth yelled, “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass,” she shot back, firing another round. Followed by an irritated murmur, “Since you can’t seem to follow a simple plan.”

With ruthless efficiency, the brothers took out the remaining culebras. Lilah held her position as she watched, picking off one or two more and wounding another enough for Richie to punch through his chest and pull out his heart. She was so focused on the fight inside that she didn’t hear the footsteps coming towards her. It wasn’t until she was yanked by the collar of her sweatshirt that she even knew there was another person there.

Stumbling back, Lilah hit the ground with an ‘oof’, her gun slipping from her hands with the impact. She looked at it, dejected, her brain helpfully telling her that she was a literal cliche at that moment. Her opponent kicked it away with a laugh, joining her in the world of walking cliches.

Angry, Lilah scrambled to standing. He was ugly in a way that told her that he was ugly even when he wasn’t baring his fangs at her. Long hair, cut haphazardly in what might have been a mullet. Plaid shirt, jeans, boots. All dirty, somewhat torn. She could smell him, even from ten feet away.

“Pretty girl,” he growled, “I’m gonna love draining the life outta you.”

Did every bad guy have a book of one-liners that they studied from? Lilah had heard this particular one about a hundred times and it got old by round four. Just once, she’d like to hear a little creativity in the threat to her life. She sneered at him taking a step back and assessing. The knife Richie had given her was strapped to her forearm. Lilah could use that, though she’d have to let him close. The thought filled her with revulsion.

Still, she pulled it from its sheath, brandishing it in her dominant hand. As she expected, he laughed again. Also as she expected, he lashed out. Hands with torn nails reached for her. Lilah brought the blade up in a slicing motion, just like Seth had shown her.

Catch the muscle in the forearm, it’ll fuck up their grip. Can’t punch if they can’t make a fist.

That’s what she did. The move wasn’t without cost. He caught her with an upper cut to her diaphragm, knocking all the air out of her. Lilah fell back on her ass, arm around her middle as she tried to draw a breath. Viciously, she pushed down the panic and tried to focus. It was difficult to do when heat was suffusing her, burning so hot that she looked at her clothes to see if they’d caught fire.

It had been happening a lot of the last few days, in moments when Lilah wasn’t quite paying attention. She’d suddenly get warm. It was usually localized—her shoulder, her cheek, ruffling through her hair. This was total body. Head to toe. Fire burning just beneath her skin in a raging sizzle that made her muscles spasm. Despite the warmth, she shivered.

Her opponent grabbed her beneath an arm and one thigh, hoisting her up above his head. She adjusted her grip on the blade, shoving it down into the space between shoulder and neck. He screamed, and she had about half a second to be satisfied with it before he was throwing her through a window. In the free fall, Lilah was able to keep hold of the knife, much good that it did her.

This time, she landed with much more than an ‘oof’. The wind having already been knocked out of her, the sound Lilah made was something akin to a frog being stepped on.

“I hate plate glass,” she said, when she found her voice, “I really, really hate plate glass.”

Her shoulder burned with pain, along with her hip. Lilah had to take a few breaths to see through it enough to get the layout of the room. There was an old desk that had been turned over. She started crawling towards it, wincing at the strain it put on her body. From behind her, she hear him jump through the window after her, still laughing.

She hadn’t gotten more than a foot or so from where she’d landed when he used the toe of his boot to roll her over. Biting her lip to keep from screaming, Lilah swung her arm in an arch, slicing through the meat of his thigh. He grunted, and smiled. Jaw clenched, she glared up at him.

He opened his mouth to speak, then paused, his head tilting to the side. Against her better judgment, Lilah followed his line of sight, eyes widening at she caught the glint of a familiar black coat. Brasa stepped forward out of what looked like literal shadows. She could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, his eyes dark with rage.

While her attacker was distracted, she scooted further away, managing to get to the desk before the guy even realized what kind of danger he was in. Brasa said nothing, telegraphed nothing, but anger. He simply approached her opponent, stood within about a foot of him, and waited.

Lilah had the distinct feeling that this guy was pretty stupid, all things considered. He was looking at what he had to know was a more powerful being, and he was smirking at him. The arm holding her knife fell across her stomach, her body relaxing. There was nothing left for her to do but settle in and watch the show.

Brasa looked the other guy up and down, and though he was standing between her and the culebra, Lilah knew he did not like what he saw. Hell, she doubted anyone would like looking at him.

Without so much as a sound, Brasa lifted an arm, shoved his thumb into the guy’s eye socket and wrenched his wrist to the side. The skull cracked beneath the skin, which separated with the ease of tearing a piece of paper down a perforation. Lilah caught his brain matter sloshing out of the cavity before she had to look away. Wet, gooey sounds were followed by the heavy thud of the body. She swallowed back the urge the retch.

A moment later, Brasa’s boots were in front of her and he was kneeling down. Lilah chanced a glance at him, offering him a small smile.

“Good timing,” she said through a clenched throat.

The pain in her arm and hip throbbed to point of distraction, making even the effort to breathe almost more trouble than it was worth. She shifted as she tried to find a comfortable position that would take some of the strain off her limbs.

His eyes narrowed, “You’re hurt.”

She shrugged, winced, and said, “Part of the job.”

A breath hissed through his teeth, “It is not. You’re too fragile to be fighting off his kind.”

Lilah’s hand tightened around the knife, “Gee, thank you.”

Scoffing, Brasa adjusted his stance, moving to pull her to standing. The motion jostled her arm and she groaned, eyes closing as she breathed deep. He stilled, eyes assessing.

“Where?”

Jaw working, Lilah replied, “Rotator cuff is torn, hip may or may not be cracked. Bruised all to hell. That about sums it up.”

With a harsh sound, Brasa ripped off his jacket and began working the button of his cuff, rolling the sleeve up. Out came the now familiar knife, and he was pushing it into his skin before she could say a word.

Gingerly, he helped her sit up a bit, “This will take care of the pain, for now.”

Hurting too much to complain, Lilah took the blood, refusing to acknowledge how good he tasted or how easily she had taken to the act. It took less convincing to make her throat swallow the blood downward, the warm, sweet taste coating her tongue. Breathing through her nose, she sucked deeper, eliciting a choked sound from him.

A few moments later, he tensed and eased her away. He stood, circling the desk, hand pushing his sleeve down. Lilah ducked back, unsure if he was going to have to take out another culebra. She held her knife at the ready, just in case.

“What is it with you and showing up unannounced?”

Seth. Also, valid question. Lilah wondered how he’d known when and where to show up.

“Who do you think gave you the information that there was a nest growing in these warehouses?”

Lilah wiped her face to make sure there would be no evidence of what they’d just been doing. And then she grabbed his coat, still laying on the floor, and stood on shaky legs.

“Hey guys,” she said with false levity, “Late again, as usual.”

To his credit, Seth didn’t look surprised, “You good?”

She nodded, “Just holding his coat while he took they guy out. Now I know what you guys feel like holding a purse in the dressing room.”

Solicitously, Lilah handed Brasa’s coat back to him. His expression when he took it was amused, but she didn’t think he was going to renege on his side of their deal. Their secret was safe, for now. To keep herself busy, she tucked the knife back into its sheath.

Richie sauntered in, cigarette in hand, “Charges are live...and we have company.”

Seth moved next to his brother, the two of them forming a wall of caustic sarcasm, “Indeed we do. Apparently, Brasa gave us the tip about the nest.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Seth drawled, “Awful nice of him.”

“It is.”

“Yes. It. Is.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “Alright, we still have a job to do. Can we put aside our, frankly massive, egos and get it done. I’d like to get home before sunrise this time.”

Seth’s mouth pursed, but he eventually nodded. Richie was unmoved, but he followed his brother’s lead and his posture relaxed. Lilah resisted the breath of relief that threatened to blow through her nose.

“Okay,” she announced, hands flexing in front of her, “Let’s start with the two of you putting in your goddamned ear pieces.”

“You know I don’t work that way,” Seth protested.

“I literally don’t care,” she shot back, “I need to be able to communicate with you if we’re going to be successful.”

“This isn’t our first job,” Richie said, even as he pulled the ear bud from his pocket.

It wasn’t even their first job with Lilah. And, from the start, she’d insisted on better communication between herself in the eagle’s nest and the players down below. It was the only way she’d have enough information to give good directives and get everyone out alive. She was no longer amazed at their stubborn refusal.

“You want to go off half-cocked with twenty pounds of explosives wired to a detonator that only I know how to activate, sure. I’ll have our guy put in an order for a prosthetic...or two.”

“I’ll heal,” Richie said, brow lifted.

She nodded, “Your brother won’t.”

Looking somewhat censured, Richie stuffed the bud into his ear, his eyes narrow behind his glasses. Seth reluctantly did the same.

“Great. Now, I’m going to go up to the roof where my shit is set up. You both are going to get to your secondary location, and wait for my cue to pick off the stragglers after I set off the bombs. We clear?”

Neither of them said anything, their eyes looking one way or another—anywhere that wasn’t at her. She crossed her arms, waiting. It occurred to her that she should feel more pain from her shoulder with the motion. At present, it had receded to a throbbing ache. Curious.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Seth muttered, finally, “What about him?”

Brasa had been watching the entire exchange, threading his arms through the jacket, interest in his eyes. He looked at Seth pointing suspiciously at him, then to Lilah for direction.

“He’ll come with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“He can literally see in the dark,” Lilah reasoned, “And, he’ll provide backup in case I have another...incident.”

There was no need to detail the ‘incident’ in question. Lilah wasn’t a sure thing in a fight. Too little training, too little strength. She watched Seth consider it, ignoring the smirk on Richie’s face.

With a nod, Seth turned and grabbed his brother’s shoulder, hauling him towards the door. Lilah turned her attention to Brasa and jerked her head towards the stairs.

“Roof is this way.”

He followed her up two flights of stairs, nearly silent, while Lilah made a serious attempt to keep her breathing even. Despite the cardio she regularly performed to stay in shape, stairs were stairs.

“How does the blood thing work?”

While her wounds weren’t healed by any means, the pain had lessened considerably. There was now only a dull tingle now where there had been sizzling wounds that radiated discomfort. She had almost full extension in her shoulder.

He hummed a little in question.

“The healing. You knew that the blood would help with the pain.”

They reached to roof entrance, stepping out into a humid night, a smattering of stars above. Lilah crossed over to the folding table that she’d brought with her. A laptop and the detonation device sitting next to a few odds and ends that she generally found useful to have around on any job.

“We are bondmates,” Brasa answered, as if that was all the explanation she would need.

Lilah shot him an annoyed grimace, silently telling him that she needed more information.

His brows quirked, hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket, “Blood is a conduit, Lilah. I gave you a little of my strength, that’s all.”

She blinked, “Is that why you,” she cleared her throat, the words stuck, “drink from me, too? So you get some of that strength back?”

It hadn’t escaped her notice that he had given her blood tonight, but hadn’t taken any. The deal wasn’t reciprocal, as was usual. She didn’t like feeling as if she owed him something.

Brasa shook his head, “No. My body will regenerate regardless of how much I give you.”

Her brows furrowed, “Then…?”

Eyes hooded, Brasa crowded her space. Two fingers touched beneath her chin gently. He leaned down, saying in a low voice, “Lilah, I drink from you because I want to. Because you taste so sweet that I wake up craving you. Because its better than any meal I’ve ever had.”

Her mouth went dry at the intensity of his gaze, the unwavering confidence in his voice. She had no words to respond with, couldn’t parse the feelings roiling in her belly.

A voice sounded in her ear, “We’re in position.”

The job. Seth. Richie. The explosives. Lilah shook herself and stepped away. Though her gaze remained on Brasa, she tapped her computer to wake it up.

“McNamara online,” she said as a reflex, “I don’t have a visual on the group, but recon puts them at returning in,” she looked at the clock in the lower right hand corner of the screen, “Ten minutes. You boys ready?”

“Roger that,” Richie said, laughter in his voice.

From over the line, Lilah heard a loud smack, followed by, “What? We can’t have a little fun with these things?”

With a deep sigh, Lilah muted her line and tugged on the hem of her sweatshirt. She never really expected a job to go perfectly smooth, but this one was just full of little stumbles that were adding up. Things were usually a little more organized than this, a little more polished. Since they had taken on the bar, their attention had been pulled in so many different directions that it was difficult to get everyone on the same page and focused. Lilah ran her hand over her face to calm herself.

A soft warmth bloomed at her shoulder, running along down her hand. Lilah, who hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes, opened them and glanced at the only other person around. He was standing a few feet away, observing her with interest.

Her eyes narrowed, “I knew it.”

Surprised, Brasa’s brows lifted, but he said nothing.

Turning to face him, Lilah pointed a finger, “I don’t know how, but I knew that was you.”

He looked just a little bit startled, lips parted, blinking slowly. Lilah crossed her arms, cocking a hip to the side as she waited for an explanation.

“I won’t apologize,” he said, finally, having collected himself.

Jerking her chin towards him, Lilah asked, “What would I want you to apologize for?”

A breath, “It is unusual for bondmates to be separate for long periods of time, and unheard of so soon after finding one another.”

“And?”

“And, I find that I need to check in with you to ensure you’re well.”

That was...almost sweet. It didn’t excuse the behavior, but the context was reassuring.

“You could have called me.”

“You didn’t give me your number.”

“You could have called the bar.”

In a voice laced with sarcasm, he said, “Yes, I’ll just call the establishment owned by people who are more enemies than friends and ask for you. I wonder how long it would take for your secret to get to Seth and Richie.”

Mouth thinning, Lilah felt her face heat, “I am doing my best, here.”

“As am I,” he retorted, shifting his stance, “I’d appreciate some consideration for my position.”

“Your position?”

“Yes, my position. I have people to keep fed, a business to run, and a bondmate who not only insists on living separately, but also insists on secrecy.”

“I have responsibilities, too,” Lilah asserted, throwing her hands up, “I can’t drop my entire life because of,” she gestured weakly between them, “This.”

A voice sounded in her earbud, “Uh, Lilah?”

She stabbed the mute button, “What?”

“How many were supposed to be in this nest?” Seth asked, a tinge of panic in his voice.

“Recon put it at no more than 20.”

“Well, it looks like they found some friends.”

Craning her neck to look over the edge of the roof, Lilah checked the deep black horizon, seeing nothing, “How many?”

A beat, muffled voices, “Richie says he sees about forty or fifty, but its hard to tell. They’re moving pretty fast.”

Lilah did a few calculations in her head—the size of the warehouse, the amount of C4 they’d put in there, the structure of the building as a whole.

“Plan stays the same,” she announced, “Funnel ‘em in. Blow ‘em to hell.”

“Roger that,” came Richie’s voice.

“Shut up,” Seth griped, and Lilah could just see him rolling his eyes, “We’ll hold position and pick off the ones that run.”

With a nod, Lilah pushed the mute button again. As she stared at the computer screen, another thought brushed against the forefront of her mind.

“How does it work?”

Brasa made a soft, questioning sound.

She looked up at him, “How does the...touching without touching thing work?”

He gave an elegant shrug, “Magic.”

Lilah huffed in disbelief, shaking her head and returning her attention to the screen. All detonators were active. Absently, she pressed her hand to the little box to her right. It wouldn’t open without her fingerprints, a safety precaution she may not have needed to take—she was a safety girl, through and through. A little bit of paranormal phenomenon wasn’t going to change that. Flipping the top open, she flicked the little levers over each of the detonator buttons. Red lights turned green. Active and ready to fire.

“You know that culebras exist, you’re standing next for a born and bred Xibalban, and you scoff at magic?”

Lilah eyed him briefly, “Call me a cynic, if you like. But magic can’t be the only explanation.”

“Blood is the conduit of the soul,” he murmured. Lilah heard his voice, and Richie’s voice saying it in real time, the rhythm exact in a way that told her this was something ingrained into all of them. “It is also what ties us irrevocably together.”

She didn’t like the way he said ‘irrevocably’, the finality of his tone. Before she’d been taken on by the brothers Gecko, Lilah had been pretty much a nomad. She went where the work was, stayed exclusively in hotels or slept in her car (rented, or otherwise). The concrete knowledge that this thing between her and Brasa was so solid that it could not be broken made her skittish.

Before she could stop herself, and full well knowing that she wasn’t going to get a good reaction, Lilah said, “Is this like what you had with Amaru, a blood bond?”

His jaw clenched, eyes looking up and away. He even took a tiny step back. Lilah swallowed back the urge to apologize, hands clenching on the keyboard of her laptop.

“What that was,” he began, “Is not what this is. It could never be. The queen bonded me into service, into servitude. I could not refuse a command, no matter the cost.” His voice grew tense as he continued, “I fought who she wanted, fucked who she wanted, killed at her will.”

Lifting up from where she was leaning on the little table, Lilah cast him a soft look, “That must have been frustrating.”

His expression was dark and more than a little angry, “It was.”

“But you’re not still bound to her? Or, I guess, to Kate?” She’d heard it from Kate, but Lilah needed to hear it from him.

Brasa shook his head, “No. The bond died with her.”

There was a long silence that yawned between them, Lilah trying to figure out if she’d crossed a line, and Brasa brooded nearby. It went on so long that the plan kicked into action while they were both still waiting for one another to say anything.

Sounds filtered in from across the street, people talking, doors opening. She knew they’d find the bodies of their friends where Seth and Richie had left them. She also knew that they would take time to search the area. The plan remained. Bomb the ones inside, shoot the ones running outside.

Leaning over to look off the roof, Lilah’s hand hovered over the ignition. She watched the group argue, watched them look furtively around for their enemies. And, when as many of them were gathered in the building as were likely to do so, she pressed the button. It took about three seconds for the first one to go off, the rest followed in a staccato of fire and sound that blew out the windows.

She ducked down, attempting to avoid flying debris. To her surprise, Brasa knelt down next to her, though he continued to look over the edge of the roof.

“Is this how you normally operate?”

“Not really,” she answered, “Why?”

His eyes turned to her, “Because this is the second time I’ve seen you use explosives.”

She shrugged, “We had some left over from the last job. I didn’t want it to go to waste.”

Mouth tugging up on one side, Brasa dipped his chin and said, “Speaking of the last job.”

He reached back and pulled her gun from the waistband of his pants, hidden by the heavy drape of his coat. He must have picked it up in the street where she’d dropped it below, a complete circle that had started when he’d first taken her weapon in that dark basement.

Lilah took it from him, “You have a habit of taking my weapons.”

“You have a habit of losing them.”

Gunshots fired, and Lilah knew the second part of the plan had started. She stayed right where she was, her weight on one knee, looking at him. His expression had softened to amusement, and it looked like his earlier ire had passed. More gunshots, raised voices, snarls. Lilah leaned over the edge and looked down, cursing when one of the culebras caught sight of her.

“They saw me,” she breathed, thumb rolling over the safety on her pistol. “Gonna be a fight.”

Brasa smiled, “Good.”

They both stood, having no further need to hide. Lilah kept her eye on the door, but that turned out to be unnecessary. Brasa tapped her arm, flicking his fingers towards the street. Lilah peered down and groaned. They were climbing the fucking walls. She aimed, firing off a few rounds and knocking one down.

“Let them up,” Brasa ordered.

Lilah looked at him, incredulous, “You’re kidding.”

“No,” he shook his head, “Let them up. I’ll take care of them. You cover me.”

She looked at him a few more moments longer, then lifted both hands in surrender, taking several steps back from the edge and aiming. Brasa continued to look down, eyes focused. When the first of them cleared the edge, he bent at the knees, hauled them up, and threw them down head first onto the roof. Dazed, the guy didn’t react when he was rolled over and subsequently put out of his misery by a well placed stomp of Brasa’s boot, the kick going rough his rib cage straight to the other side. She winced, but held her stance.

The next guy had his arm ripped off before he could get to the lip of the roof, his head following soon after. And then two breached the roof, both of them attacking at the same time. Lilah had enough distance and focus to note how easily Brasa was fighting them off. But, when one got an arm around his shoulder and pushed him down, the other poised to use both hands to hammer punch him, Lilah squeezed the trigger.

Brasa dispatched with the guy trying to hold him down, and then turned to flash her a pleased smile, “You have good aim.”

She blinked, “I have shitty aim. I was going for his arm.”

“But you hit him in the neck. Better shot,” he countered as he approached. “Are you hurt?”

Lilah laughed, “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine,” he said, smile holding, “No sweat.”

She eyed him, “I can see that.”

He wasn’t even out of breath. Could he even sweat? What was the physiology of a Xibalban?

Her earbud buzzed, “You good up there?”

Lilah stepped over to her computer, holstering her gun and tapping the mute button, “I’m good. You get them all?”

“No,” Richie said with a growl, “Couple got away.”

Hissing through her teeth, Lilah shook her head, “Well, maybe we scared them enough that they won’t come back.”

“Or,” Seth cut in, and she could hear muffled sounds behind his voice, “We just taught them how to be more careful.”

Shutting down her computer and pulling her bag out from underneath the table, Lilah gave a deep sigh, “Doesn’t matter. We’re done, here. At least for tonight.”

Brasa observed her while she packed up, his gaze a physical weight on the back of her neck. Uncomfortable with the silence, Lilah asked the question that had been burning at the back of her brain since the night she’d met him.

“How come you don’t bite me? Do Xibalbans not bite?”

A low chuckle rumbled, “We bite.”

She dropped the bag gently on the ground and tipped the table over to fold its legs underneath and the tabletop in half so that it would fit in her carrying case. When he didn’t elaborate, she rolled her wrist at him, an unspoken gesture for more.

“What do you know about venom?”

She paused, an ache forming behind her eyes. He’d asked her a similar question when he’d explained the bond between them. She clocked it for what it was, a stalling technique.

“Just pretend that I don’t know shit about anything, okay?” She snapped, “Pretend I’ve been living under a rock.”

His brows drew together in confusion, but he continued nonetheless, “Behind my fangs are two glands that secrete a venom that is meant to keep my,” he paused, “donor...pliable.”

Hauling both bags over her shoulder, Lilah asked, “Pliable?”

He hummed in confirmation, “Less fighting means a cleaner bite.”

“Is it toxic?”

Brasa shook his head, “Not really. My experience is that the venom induces pleasurable feelings, though the effects are different for everyone.”

He followed her to the stairs, angling around her to get the door.

Lilah gave him a grateful nod, “And you don’t want to expose me to the venom?”

With the load she was carrying, Lilah didn’t dare turn her head to look at him, but she was comforted by the sound in the negative that reached her ears.

“I don’t want your perception of me to be colored by...the effects.”

At the landing, Lilah turned and smiled wryly at him, “You think I’ll like you more if you get me high.”

The slight pause in his step told her that she’d guessed right. Her smile widened, and she turned to make her way outside.

“The consideration is appreciated,” she called back to him as she cleared the door.

“Thank you,” he responded, following her out.

They watched Seth and Richie approached, rifles over their shoulders. Lilah moved to the alley, the trunk popping from a distance. She threw both bags in it and closed the lid, heading back to the men who were staring each other down not far away. Lilah noticed that both Seth and Richie were still holding their rifles close to their bodies.

“Okay,” she said loudly, “I think that’s a wrap, don’t you?”

Seth cut a look at her that was more annoyed than angry, “I agree.” Then, to Brasa, “Thanks for coming to the party. How about, next time, you RSVP first.”

Brasa smirked, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lilah rolled her eyes and reached over to pull Seth by the arm, “Let’s go. Like I said, I want to be home before the sun comes up.” Over her shoulder, she said, “Thanks for the assist.”

Brasa gave her a courteous nod. Lilah congratulated herself that she didn’t look back, even when they were tearing out into the desert towards home. They did, in fact, get there before sunrise.

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #In the Bond #Brasa

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skullrock · 4 years

Text

the partners, chapter 5 - Steve x Reader

chapter 5 - I know it’s over

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: You and Steve head to Bartini to investigate; you pursue your feelings for Steve with devastating results.

warnings: swearing, angst!!!!!!!!!, drinking, mentions of getting sick

word count: 4k (oof!)

a/n: here’s the Spotify playlist that goes with the series, and you can catch up here. pirate door scene from this and make sure you buckle up for this chapter fellas

=====

Saturday comes around, and you prep for the night. You throw on your disguise, which is just a dress that you typically would not wear and a wig from Halloween a few years ago. You attempt to do some makeup that you wouldn’t typically do as well – Steve said it had to be good. Steve also recommended carrying a weapon, just in case – you grab a switchblade and tuck it into a garter that your mother had given you years ago. You find yourself obsessing over how you look, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re worried of being caught or worried that you won’t look good enough for Steve.

Your palms get sweatier the closer you get to his house, and your heart rate picks up. You mentally kick yourself over this, but it’s not like it helps.

You pull up to his house around 10 pm, honking the horn once to signal your arrival. Steve steps out a few seconds later. You can’t see much of him in the dark, but you can make out that he’s carrying something pretty large in his hand. Your brows furrow and you watch as he opens the back door, the back seat illuminated by the light in your car. He throws in a wooden bat, riddled with nails, and shuts the door.

Shocked is an understatement.

“Hey!” he says, climbing into the car.

You can’t talk for a moment. “Steve, what-“

“You look so great,” he says, and he means it. He thinks you look downright breathtaking, not that he would admit that to himself or anyone else.

“No,” you say harshly, turning the lights in the car on. “What the hell is that?” You point to the backseat.

He looks at you innocently. “A bat.”

“Steve, that’s not a bat. That’s a fucking – that’s a war weapon. That’s shit they used to use in medieval times to kill- to kill monsters and shit.”

He is impressed by your accidental accuracy.

“We might need it,” he retorts.

You shake your head in disbelief and laugh slightly. “For what?”

“Just trust me, alright?”

“Who even gave that to you?”

“Jonathan.”

“Jonathan Byers?!”

“Yes.”

You stare at him, slack jawed. “What?!”

“Look,” he sighs. “I need you to drop this and just trust me, okay?”

“Okay, but you can’t take that into the bar.”

“I won’t,” he says. “I just – I need it, alright?”

You don’t understand, but he’s your best friend and you care about him, so you relent. It’s now that you notice him, looking sleek in his black duster, sunglasses hanging off his shirt. His hair is slicked back. He looks like a movie star, and it catches you off guard.

“What’s this?” you muse finally, tugging on his jacket.

“It’s my risky business costume from ’84,” he smiles. “Do you like it?”

“No,” you respond, to his surprise. “You don’t look different enough.”

Steve scoffs. “What do you mean? My hair is slicked back, dude.”

You roll your eyes and grab your bag, sifting through it. He watches you nervously, making sure to take his eyes away from looking at your exposed thighs, because it’s weird to look at your friend like that. He looks away sharply and clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. You eventually produce a stick of black eyeliner and red chapstick.

“No,” he says. “No way!”

“You have to!” you plea.

“You are not putting makeup on me,” he huffs. “End of discussion.”

“Steve, stop being so fragile,” you say, exasperated. “Men in makeup look hot.”

He stills. “Do you think?”

“I don’t think, I know,” you say, twirling the eyeliner in your hand. “Now lean over here and close your eyes.”

Steve does as you request, closing his eyes and leaning over to rest his arms on the center console. He laughs awkwardly as you begin. The little lighting in the car isn’t much, but it doesn’t have to be perfect. He has sunglasses, anyway. You quickly put it on, smudging it, explain to him that yes, you need to smudge it, and no, this isn’t a joke.

“Open,” you say, and he opens his eyes.

You’re both just inches apart, and your eyes lock. Your stomach flips and palms sweat. You want to look away, but you couldn’t – you were completely enamored, impressed with his warm brown irises, the speckles of gold within them, how happy and soft he looks as he meets your gaze.

“Um,” you say finally, dropping your eyes down to the chapstick. “You’ll need this, too – it’ll tint your lips.”

“I’m going to look like a vampire,” he mumbles, amused, and you smile gently. You uncap the chapstick, but instead of giving it to him to do himself, you lean over and run it across his lips. His heart skips, but he figures it’s just from surprise. No one has ever applied chapstick on him before – well, not this way. You run it along his lips slowly, making sure to get every crevice. You now notice just how soft his lips look – like pillows, red and lush, as soft as his eyes. Your eyes linger a little too long, and you don’t notice that you slowed down, stopping your swipe half way.

“Uh, Y/N?” he says through the chapstick.

“Oh, shit,” you whisper. “Sorry – I was just – uh – I was thinking about something else.”

He quirks a brow, but doesn’t question it.

Steve’s nervous – no, Steve’s scared shitless. He had the shakes the entire day, considering not going through with the plan. He was horrified at the aspect of getting caught again, but more importantly, he was worried about you getting hurt. He would never be able to live with the guilt of getting you into something dangerous. The very thought of you getting the same treatment he did last year makes his stomach turn, makes him feel faint, makes him breathless. He was momentarily distracted from the fear when he saw you, but it’s back full force as you drive to the other side of town.

You notice his stiffness and the tension in the air. “Steve?”

“I’m scared,” he says, teeth chattering.

Your brows pull together in worry. “Do you want me to pull over?”

“No,” he says quickly. “No – I’ll be alright.”

You know better than to ask for an elaboration. You glance over at him and see his hands shaking, so you grab one and squeeze it. He squeezes back, and it’s a nice gesture – the bond of trust that you both have, solid and strong.

You pull into the parking lot at the bar and shut the car off. You turn to face him fully. He really looks like a vampire with his face drained of all color, terrified, but he swallows the apprehension and smiles. You smile back gently.

“ID?” you ask. He pulls his out and shows it to you – your hook-up was able to be quick and got it to you within a few days. Steve’s fake name was “Ford Skywalker” – you tried to explain that it was a silly name that was way too obvious, but he insisted.

“Weapon?” Your eyes glance to the bat, but he pats his hip and nods.

“Warning phrase?”

“Ghostbusters is on.”

You nod and sigh heavily. “Let’s do this.”

Steve is shitfaced within an hour.

You had suggested he try to drink something to get his nerves calmed, but he went a bit overboard. While you socialized and tried to find any clues that something was happening, Steve slammed back beer after beer. He felt lighter, better, happier with each sip, and by the time he was totally slammed, he was nearly in bliss.

Steve walks over to where you’re leaning against a tall table, where you’re nursing your first beer and observing the crowd. The bar was admittedly a bit crazier than you expected, more of a club than anything. Lots of people were dancing, the music was loud; if it weren’t for the potential tie to a murder, you’d think it was a great place.

Steve’s eyes are again drawn to your exposed legs, but also to your exposed neck. He thinks to himself how beautiful you look, how beautiful you always look, how it seems like you don’t even have to put effort into it.

“Hey,” he says as he leans in beside you. You smell him and know he’s gone too far. You open your mouth to scold him, but he cuts you off.

“You see that door over there?” he says, pointing towards a darkened corner. “The one that says ‘pirate’?”

You follow his gaze, eyes hardening when you see the door he is talking about.

“You think a pirate lives in there?”

You turn to look at him, pupils flaring. “I see a door marked private.”

Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times, embarrassed in his drunken state. “Uh… that’s – yeah, I said that?”

“No –“

“What did you think I said?” he slurs.

“Steve, you definitely said –“

“Are we gonna go find out if a pirate lives in there or what?”

You sigh out your entire soul and pinch the bridge of your nose. He is the one who suggested going to this bar, and now you’re carrying nearly all the weight of this investigation while he gets hammered. It’s irritating, to say the least, and all the weird things he has done since this started creep into your memory. But he did point out the door, and you hadn’t seen it before, so at least he was good for something tonight.

“Stay here while I go check it out,” you say. “I mean it – stay put.”

He salutes, then adds, “I’ll miss you.”

You ignore the butterflies in your stomach and head over to the door.

Upon closer inspection, it reads “VIP – PRIVATE LOUNGE.” Your brows furrow and you look around before pressing your ear to the door. Of course it’s loud all around you, and you can hardly hear – but you definitely hear some voices behind the door, and the language does not sound like anything you knew. You look around again and drop to the floor, peaking under it. You can see shoes, which is a start, but nothing very helpful. You sigh and dust yourself off, heading back to where you left Steve.

Except he wasn’t there.

You groan and search the crowd. He’s not very hard to find, dancing erratically in the middle of the floor, arms flailing about. You should have known better – of course he was going to dance. He dances all the time when he’s sober; it must increase tenfold when he’s drunk. You push past people to reach him, and he looks happier than you’ve ever seen him. It breaks your heart a bit. You wish he was this happy all the time, this carefree. His eyes reach yours and he grabs you quickly, pulling you to him. You open your mouth to protest, but the song changes.

It’s Come on Eileen. It’s Steve’s favorite.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” he shouts, fist punching the air, and he grabs you again, spinning you around before dancing.

Seeing Steve dance sober was a spectacle enough. Seeing Steve dance drunk was almost too much to handle.

His body has no limits. His arms fly out, he spins, he kicks. His head bangs so hard that it must hurt, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t have a care in the world – all he notices is the beat, the music. Steve moves all around, crazily, happily, and you can’t help but laugh at the sheer delight he exhibits.

You think he looks beautiful. You think maybe you love him.

He grabs you and spins you again. “Dance with me!”

You decide that you will, letting some stress off of you, too. He flings his arms around your waist as the song slows. You wrap yours around his neck and stare up at him, once again captured by his eyes. He’s caught by yours, too, and he thinks he feels even dizzier while he looks at you, hardly even moving, just taking you in.

As the pace picks up, Steve’s hands slide up, grabbing yours. He clutches them tightly and smirks before spinning you. It garners attention, and you beg him to stop, but he keeps spinning you until the song takes off again. He spins on his own and continues to dance while you laugh and catch your breath. You wish you were still mad at him, but seeing him like this makes you remember why he was so special to you.

The song fades and he turns to look at you. He’s smiling widely, but then his face falls.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

You usher him outside quickly and pat his back as he leans over a set of bushes. He pulls back and wipes his mouth, making your face scrunch. He smiles cheekily. “You’re cute when you’re grossed out.”

“Come on, Ford,” you say, leading him to your car. You get the door for him and he bows, laughing nearly hysterically, before climbing in.

“If you puke in my car, you’re dead,” you warn, and he nods with a thumbs up.

As you drive, his hands reach over to you and rest on your knee. Your heart leaps to your throat, but you try to seem unfazed. “Getting handsy, buddy?”

“Legs,” he responds.

You pause. “Yes.”

“They’re nice,” he says, rubbing circles into your knee. You roll your eyes as you scream internally.

You pull into his house, bat forgotten in the back seat, and you help him inside. He steps inside and shouts, “Daddy’s home!” before reaching into the pockets of his duster and pulling out two cans of pepper spray.

Your eyes follow the cans as they drop to the floor, head racing – didn’t he just point to his hip earlier? He continues to undress, for no apparent reason.

“Hey, hey,” you say, lunging for him before he takes his shirt off. “You’ve got company, bud.”

“Oops!”

Steve reaches down into his pockets and pulls out a swiss army knife and a tactical pen. He reaches into his waistband and produces another knife, similar to the one you have. You’re thoroughly shocked and confused. “What the hell is this all about?”

He looks at you like you’re stupid. “I have to have weapons, Y/N.”

“Where did you even get these? Did Jonathan get you them, too?”

“Nah,” he slurs. “Got ‘em myself after last year.”

Your heart slams in your chest and you want an explanation, but you know you won’t get one. What the hell happened to him last year that makes him carry around this kind of shit? And that bat?!

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks. He steps towards you and wraps his arms around your waist. Your cheeks flush but you have no complaints. His hand reaches down and he runs it lightly up your leg. “I know where you keep yours!”

“Steve!”

“What?” he asks, genuine confusion written on his features. You step out of his grasp (it was admittedly not that tight) and he seems to forget the incident even happened. You’re disappointed with yourself – disappointed that you wanted more than that, and the heat of his fingers was still felt on your thigh. You shake your head to clear it and you sit him on the couch. After getting him a water bottle and some pills to take in the morning when he inevitably has a hangover, you pull him back up again. You guide him to the bathroom and he brushes his teeth.

He frowns as he looks at himself in the mirror, then grabs a washcloth and wipes the makeup off. “I look like a clown.”

“You are a clown,” you tease, and he smiles, content with the observation. He runs his hands through his hair rapidly to release the gelled-down locks and shakes it out. It’s wild, but quite handsome.

“Better?” he asks.

“That’s up to you, champ,” you say, taking his arm and leading him into his bedroom.

“Did I tell you that you have a really nice house?” you ask, lugging him down the hall.

“Do you wanna tour?” he asks, stumbling a bit.

“I want you to sleep, Harrington.”

You follow his lead to find his bedroom, as there are quite a few doors in his house. You’re surprised at how well kept it is – he even made his bed.

“Thought you’d be a slob,” you quip, and he shakes his head vigorously, but has no verbal retort.

You look away as he changes into a shirt and boxers, instead focusing on putting the pills and water bottle down and getting his bed ready for him. You hear him come up behind you and begin to turn, but he grabs you by the waist and pulls you right into bed with him.

You don’t know if this is your worst nightmare or best dream. You’d always wanted to be close to him like this, but not like this. Not while he’s drunk and stumbling, slurring his words together. But the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, pressing you against him, was nearly too much to handle.

“Stay,” he whispers. “Please.”

“Steve,” you whisper back, avoiding eye contact. You know if you look at him that you’re fucked.

“Please,” he repeats, pulling you tighter. Your hands rest on his chest, and you chance a look up.

Big mistake.

To you, his eyes say everything. Steve looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. It’s intense and passionate, yet quiet and contemplative. His lips are quirked up in a smile, and you don’t know if you’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight than him above you, messy hair covering his forehead, eyes locked with yours.

Robin’s warning rings through your head. “You need to be careful with him.”

“I’m worried you’re going to fall for him, and not be able to have him.”

Maybe Robin was right – or maybe she was wrong. She’d been wrong before – one time she told you a note was an E flat when it was an F sharp, and one time she told you that it was spaghetti for lunch when it was actually hamburgers. So she could be wrong about this, right? And drunk people are the most truthful, aren’t they? Steve’s being pretty handsy and sweet tonight. Maybe she was wrong.

“Steve.”

He leans in, not to kiss, but because he can’t hear you.

But you think it’s for a kiss.

“Are you sure?” you whisper, barely audible.

He thinks you’re talking about staying the night.

“Yeah,” he slurs, brows knitted. “Of course.”

You smile, heart soaring. If you’ve ever been this happy before, you don’t remember.

You start to lean in, and Steve’s brows knit together even more, to the point that it hurts. For a second, he’s confused – but then he gets it.

He’s out of the bed in less than a second.

You blink in surprise and sit up, pain and confusion coursing through you. Steve sobers up enough to realize this cannot happen. He sobers up enough to remember why he can’t be with you, why he swallows his feelings, why he has been vague and discreet with you the past few weeks. He remembers why he didn’t hang out with you for a long time.

He remembers why he can’t have you.

The room is silent before he finally speaks. “What are you doing?”

“I thought –“

“What are you doing?”

It feels like a slap in the face. Irritated and hurt, you respond, “Well, I thought you were trying to kiss me.”

He shakes his head, eyes wide. “What? Why?”

You crawl out of the bed, standing on the opposite side of Steve. “Because I asked if you were sure, and you said ‘of course’?”

He blinks, dumbfounded. “No, I didn’t.”

Confusion twists into you deeper. “Yes, you did?”

“Y/N,” he breathes. “I can’t kiss you.”

“Why?” You’re hurt, but more confused than anything. Like Steve is trying to pull a sick joke or something. “You’ve been feeling me up all night – looking at me like –“

“Like what?” he snaps.

You shrink, eyes downcast. “I don’t know.”

“Like what?” he repeats, standing still as a statue. His anger grows and he directs it towards you. “Like what, Y/N?”

You shake your head, desperate. “Like – like you – I don’t know, like you thought… like you liked me.”

He shakes his head again. “Y/N, we’re just friends. We’re friends. I’m sorry if you misinterpreted things.”

Your heart pangs. Your confusion turns to fury. “Why do you always lie?”

“What?”

“Why can’t you be real with me, for one minute? Just one minute? Why can’t you tell me what’s going on – why can’t you be real with me?”

He crosses his arms and scoffs. “Want me to be real with you?”

You nod.

“It is impossible for me to love you.”

The silence that falls over the room is deafening. You swear you could hear your heart breaking, splintering apart like wood.

The pause lasts a long time. Finally, meekly, you whisper, “Do you mean that?”

“Of course, I mean it,” he spits, eyes glaring into yours. They aren’t warm anymore; they’re cold and unforgiving. They’re mean. They’re sharp and harsh. “It’s impossible for me to love you, to be with you, to think about you like that. I could never be with someone like you.”

Steve’s voice is unwavering, as is his gaze. He reminds you of stone, rough and painful and cold. The confession, however, is devastating, and it takes a conscious effort for you to keep upright. You swallow hard as a million thoughts race into your mind, as your emotions come and go rapidly.

“I thought you changed,” you finally say, voice cracking. You can’t stop the hot tears from falling onto your cheeks. “I thought you changed, Steve. But you’re the same asshole you were in high school.”

You turn on your heels, beelining for the door. As you swing it open, you look back at him – his face is still nothing but mean and uninviting. You’ve never seen him like that before. “Enjoy being alone again, your highness.”

You slam the door behind you but stop yourself from going down the stairs. A part of you thinks he will come out and get you – wrap you up in his arms like he always does, pull you to him, say he’s sorry.

But he never comes.

You descend the stairs slowly, listening with strained ears for any sound of him following you.

Nothing.

You pause at the front door, fiddling with the lock. You click it so that it’s ready to lock behind you. You look back up the steps, but only find darkness. You look forward again and step over the threshold, slamming the door behind you.

Steve crumbles to the ground when he hears the front door close. He puts his head in his hands and sobs, pulling his arms around himself tightly. The image of you, heartbroken, sad, devastated, all because of him, floods through his mind.

He tried to protect you the wrong way, from the wrong people.

He’s not really sure why he’s so upset – it’s not like he’s never lost friends through a big blow out before. And he doesn’t regret pushing you away – it’s what needed to be done to keep you safe. But the emptiness he feels inside himself is greater than he felt when he cut off Tommy and Carol, and he can’t understand. All he knows is that it hurts.

You lean against the steering wheel of your car, absolutely enraged that it still smells like his woodsy cologne. You sit up to wipe at your face and remember the bat in your back seat. You feel the urge to bring it in to him, but you can’t bring yourself to go back in. Instead, you grab a Smiths album from your console – playing it not only because you’d feel it, but also because you know Steve hates them – and blast it as you pull out of his driveway and careen down the road.

You didn’t notice the black car sitting on the corner as you sped off, and you didn’t notice it pull into Steve’s driveway as you left him behind you.

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taglist (join here): @harrington-ofhawkins @wolfish-willow @gothackedalready @m-blasterrr @sourapplebaby @bluebellbrooke @sassisaluxury @comedy-witch

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #the partners #my fics #very PROUD of this one fellas... (lights cigar)

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