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avanatural · 1 year

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The Talk

Summary: Jack catches Dean and Y/N while they're being intimate. The Nephilim has a lot of questions about what he witnessed, and Dean takes it upon himself to answer at least the most important ones.

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Smut, fluff, some humor, 18+

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, mentions of non-con, getting caught during sex

A/N: This story contains smut! Do not proceed if you’re under the age of 18! Thank you to the lovely people who expressed their interest in this particular story. I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Dean Winchester tag list? Send me an ask ❤️

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Y/N cried out in ecstasy. Her fingers curled around the headboard, holding on for dear life. Dean was ramming into her at a rapid pace, kneeling behind her. His skin was slapping against hers. Every push was forceful enough to take her breath away.

“How’s that feel?”, he checked in with her, bending forward, folding his body across hers, his lips grazing her cheek. His thrusts slowed down, but their force increased.

“So good,” she panted through the powerful sensations.

“You want me to keep goin’ like that?”

“Oh God, yes…”

She clenched around him, causing him to hiss loudly in pleasure. He could feel his body vibrate as a familiar intense sensation settled in his lower regions.

Until…

“What are you doing?”

Dean and Y/N tensed violently at the sudden intrusion. Their souls took a leap out of their bodies, prompting them to abruptly still their movements. No one else was supposed to be in the bunker. Their heads snapped towards the open door of Dean’s bedroom.

None other than Lucifer’s son himself, Jack, was standing in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him, his head tilted to the side.

“Dammit, Jack!”, Dean roared, swiftly pulling out of Y/N and throwing his cream-colored sheets over her naked body.

Y/N’s eyes were wide, her breathing heavy. She gladly accepted the sheets to cover her body. A scorching heat lit up her cheeks. She felt like she’d just run a marathon, but with a mighty dose of embarrassment tossed into the mix.

“What are you doing?”, the Nephilim repeated, staring at the two hunters with a crease between his innocent eyes.

“Having sex!”, Dean snapped, snatching his pillow from the bed to hide his softening member.

Jack’s lips pursed as he mentally went through his vocabulary to find that particular word. When it didn’t ring a bell, he shook his head. “What does that mean?”

Y/N groaned internally and hid her burning face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. What the hell was he doing back early? Jack and Sam were supposed to be out.

“It’s what adults do for fun,” Dean snarled, hoping that, by some miracle, Jack was going to take the hint and leave them alone.

Instead, the purest smile spread across Jack’s face. He looked even more interested in the subject now. “I like fun.”

Dean pushed his jaw forward. He was irritated, but he was also embarrassed. Y/N could tell by looking at his flushed freckled cheeks and the reddening tips of his ears. “You remember the talk we had about privacy?”, he demanded.

Lucifer’s son drew his eyebrows together. “Of course.”

“You wanna give us some of that?”, Dean barked, sarcasm dripping from his rough voice.

“Hey, Jack, I was wondering where you headed off to…”, Sam’s voice trailed off as he appeared in the doorframe. He took in the scene before him, quick to avert his gaze and clear his throat. “Jack, uh… Come on, we’ll give them some privacy.” Sam placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and steered him away from the door.

Dean groaned and let his sweaty forehead drop to Y/N’s shoulder. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered.

“But the door was open,” they could hear Jack protest down the hall.

Y/N sighed deeply, hoping that it would somehow rid her of the uneasiness that tickled her limbs. When Dean lifted his head back up and met her gaze, she was almost amused by the obvious disappointment on his face. Almost. The smile didn’t break through, but her eyes reflected her bashful internal laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Dean grumbled, frowning as he spotted the beginning of the awkward smile on her face.

The mood had definitely been killed.

“Come on…” Y/N gently patted Dean’s bare thigh. “Let’s get dressed. It’s time for lunch, anyway.”

“Dean?”, Jack asked.

The Nephilim, Dean and Sam were sat at the library table, their noses buried in books and newspapers. The earthy scent of paper wafted through the air.

“Hm?”, the older Winchester brother half-heartedly replied, raising his mug to his lips.

“Does… sex… hurt women?”

Sam gave the Nephilim a confused side-glance while Dean audibly gulped down the hot sip of coffee. “What?”

“I think you hurt Y/N,” Jack stated with an accusing tone in his voice.

Sam’s lips transformed into a tight, thin line to prevent him from laughing.

Dean sent a glare his brother’s way. He was not in the mood to give the son of Lucifer ‘the talk.’ “It’s none of your business what I do with Y/N. Capiche?”, he grumped. The hunter’s muscles tightened in his jaw as he took another sip of his coffee.

“But I don’t want you to hurt her.”

“I wasn’t hurting her,” Dean huffed, putting down his mug. He didn’t want to defend himself for what Jack had witnessed, but if someone claimed that he hurt Y/N, and that he hurt her on purpose, the hunter was bound to get offended. “Relax.”

Sam chimed in, showing mercy for his brother. “Jack, Dean would never hurt Y/N. You know that.”

“But it looked like he was.”

Dean sighed grumpily and clasped his hands on the table in front of him. “I was doin’ somethin’ she likes. Okay? That’s rule number one with sex,” he explained, lifting a single finger in the air for emphasis, “You both need to enjoy it.”

“So, it’s possible not to enjoy it?” Jack’s forehead furrowed, causing his brows to move closer together. “I thought adults do it for fun.”

“Yes, it’s possible, but that should never, ever happen,” Dean clarified, “You need to communicate, make sure you’re on the same page.”

Jack’s eyes squinted at the unfamiliar expression. “On… the same page?”

“Yeah. For example…” Dean briefly shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to believe he was actually talking about this to Jack, of all people. “Uh… Y/N told me she doesn’t want me to leave hickeys on her body, so I can’t do that. Even though I’d like to.” At the thought of marking Y/N up as his, he ran his tongue across his lower lip. “I’d really, really like to…,” he muttered to himself dreamily.

Sam scoffed, chuckling slightly and shaking his head. Never in a million years could he have guessed that his older brother was going to give Satan’s son the talk one day.

Meanwhile, Jack nodded, clinging to Dean’s every word. “So, it’s about… permission,” he concluded.

“Exactly,” Dean responded, snapping his fingers and pointing one at Jack. He felt something dangerously close to pride swell in his chest as the boy drew the correct conclusion. “Bottom line is, you can only do what your partner allows you to.”

Jack nodded and let the information sink in for a second. Then, one of his eyebrows rose up and he inquired, “So, Y/N is your… partner?”

The question was a curveball to Dean, whose mouth puckered in reply. He was stunned into stammering, “Uhm, well…”

Curiously, Sam sat up straighter and watched his sibling’s reaction like a hawk.

“Yeah,” Dean said finally, shrugging his wide shoulders, which, to his surprise, suddenly felt a lot lighter.

Jack clasped his own hands on the table, copying Dean’s posture. “Are there any other rules?”

“Yeah. Like protection.” When Jack opened his mouth to ask further questions, Dean silenced him by lifting his pointer finger back in the air. “But I ain’t teachin’ you about that, kid. One lesson at a time.”

Dean got up, empty mug in hand, and headed toward the kitchen. As he entered the hallway, he almost bumped into Y/N, who was standing right there, resting against the wall. She smiled up at him, irises gleaming with joy and a little bit of mischief.

“What’s gotten you all cheerful?”, he demanded playfully, eyebrows arching.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, grinning at him.

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. But he didn’t get to say another word when Jack’s bewildered voice suddenly rang through the library.

“Sam… What are hickeys?”

When Sam’s groan reached their ears, Dean and Y/N burst into quiet laughter, leaning forward, their heads almost bumping into each other.

That night, Y/N listened to Dean’s calming heartbeat, cuddled up against his torso. He sighed with content when she pressed her lips to his anti-possession tattoo.

“You know… I really liked how you gave Jack the talk today,” she said.

Dean’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “So, you were eavesdroppin’.”

“Guilty.” Y/N laughed softly for a second, smiling at the green-eyed hunter who was holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “But seriously... I liked how you taught him about consent.”

His fingers traced an affectionate pattern on her hip. “Well, that's sex 101, isn’t it?”

She nodded against his skin. “It should be.”

Dean slowly brushed his fingertips across her ribs and felt her muscles contract. When he realized she was ticklish, he dragged his fingers along the same spot again. He enjoyed the sweet sounds of laughter that spilled from her mouth. He loved having her in his arms, whether they were having sex or not. She made him feel good. About his life. About himself.

“So… I’m your partner, huh?”, Y/N asked, catching his hand in hers so he would stop tickling her. She proceeded to bite her bottom lip and sneak a peek at Dean’s face while she waited for his response. So far, neither of them had brought up the question of what exactly they were to each other.

At first, she was met with complete and utter silence. That was okay. Truth be told, she had no idea what to expect. She knew they each had their own difficulties when it came to relationships. But she needed to know if Dean had told Jack the truth, or if he’d just called her his partner to appease the young Nephilim.

Then, after a few seconds, Dean gave his silent reply. The way he clenched his arm around her, squeezed her against him, and firmly kissed the crown of her head told her more than words ever could. He then transformed his response into one single word, quietly whispering it into her hair. “Yeah.”

“Hmm,” she hummed and hid her smiling face in the crook of his neck. His embrace was the most comfortable place in the entire world. She felt his chest rise and fall steadily, heard the deep breaths coming from his nose, and shut her eyes. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt at peace. “Dean?”, she asked after a few minutes, wondering if he was dozing off.

“Hm?”

“I think you still owe me an orgasm or two.”

His sleepy, spiky-haired head rose up the second she finished her sentence. He rolled on top of her body, grinning like a Cheshire cat while she giggled her heart out.

“Just two?”

“Ohh, are we feeling ambitious tonight?”, she chuckled, circling her arms around his neck.

“It’s on, sweetheart,” he rasped, molding his lips against hers in a breathtaking kiss.

Tag list: @eevvvaa @waynes-multiverse @myloversgone @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @alagalaska @libre1rose8 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @woodworthti666 @deanwanddamons @awkward-and-indecisive @snowlovespie @desimarie12 @golden-hoax @leigh70 @mimzy1994 @impalaslytherin @globetrotter28 @spnwoman @mrsjenniferwinchester @may85 @100percentserenity @tmb510 @roseblue373 @iamsapphine

#dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural imagine #spn imagine

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santanasaintmendes · 24 days

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“might sound crazy but it ain’t no lie, baby bye bye bye”

part 6! to the Cosmic Girl Records

summary: the gang goes to watch the new deadpool and wolverine movie. . . without you? oh no, that can’t be right.

ollie bearman x reader & platonic!grid x reader

all photos are found on pinterest!

warnings: swearing, nothing too bad this time lol

a/n: wow. this took forever to finally get out bc i started so many other fics 😭 but here it is, it’s a bit short but enjoy!

landonorris has posted on his story:

liked by alex_albon, georgerussell64, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lilymhe and 5,292,402 others

landonorris: the gang is back 💪

tagged alex_albon and georgerussell64

view 11,482,493 comments

user1: uh oh, has y/n seen this yet 😬

alex_albon: 😰

georgerussell64: 😰

user2: may the 2019 rookies rest in peace 😔🙏

user3: rip lando he’s in for a mouthful

user4: why’s everyone freaking out

user5: just wait, give it a minute

unfortunatelyy/n: MF???

user5: and there it is.

unfortunatelyy/n: UMMM WHAT IS THIS

unfortunatelyy/n: WHAT HAPPENED TO OH I'M SORRY I CANT COME OVER FOR DINNER I’VE GOT A DOCTORS APPOINTMENT THIS FRIDAY

user6: OH NO.

user10: dawg’s dead fs this time 😔

user7: LANDO RUN WHILE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE 😭😭

user8: he’s probably left the country by now

landonorris: 😀

unfortunatelyy/n: PICK UP YOUR PHONE

landonorris: no.

landonorris: @alex_albon @georgerussell RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN

georgerussell64: YOU ASSHAT I TOLD YOU NOT TO POST IT

landonorris: YOU WERE LITERALLY THE ONE WHO TOLD ME TO POST IT

user9: oop 🫢

georgerussell64: i never took you for a LIAR

landonorris: @alex_albon you were there you believe me right?

alex_albon: . . . ummmm

landonorris: i see how it is i’m friends with a bunch of TRAITORS

user10: how does it feel to be betrayed by your best friends

alex_albon: 😶

unfortunatelyy/n: PICK UP YOUR PHONE

landonorris: omg i forgot about you

unfortunatelyy/n: oh you are so dead

liked by lilymhe, charles_leclerc, carlossainz64, alexandrasaintmleux, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 23,782,883 others

unfortunatelyy/n: whoever said revenge is best served cold clearly has never had chimichangas before

tagged landonorris

view 22,682,692 comments

user1: HELP SHES AT IT AGAIN 😭

user2: absolutely violated my poor boy 😔

user3: i fear he may never learn his lesson

landonorris: oh i hate you.

unfortunatelyy/n: just remember, you did this to yourself

landonorris: i hope you

user17: bro died mid comment

user4: his pr team got to him before he could ruin his life

unfortunatelyy/n: that’s what i thought punk

mclarenracingf1: 🖕

user5: LANDO?! 😭😭

user6: HE DID NOT LMAOO

user11: pr team probably took away his phone privileges so now he’s hacked into mclaren insta acc 😭

user12: lando rn: 🤓💻

user9: the side eye goes hard

user10: HELP WHERE DID SHE GET THESE PHOTOS

user14: she’s probably got a whole collection

| user15: mission: steal’s y/n phone

unfortunatelyy/n: 😓

user16: HELP HAHA

alex_albon: can you send me that second pic

unfortunatelyy/n: don’t even think about it, you’re next

alex_albon: 😨

alex_albon: @lilymhe your girlfriend is bullying me

user7: alex albon confirmed snitch

user13: at least he’s not in denial anymore

user8: can’t do nothing wrong in front of this guy otherwise next thing u know police are at your front door

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

lilymhe: do you deserve it

alex_albon: no?????

unfortunatelyy/n: HAH what a little liar

alex_albon: why do you hate me

alex_albon: no wait don’t answer that

alex_albon: wait i’m sorry

alex_albon: don’t embarrass me please

alex_albon: answer my texts y/n

alex_albon: please y/n

liked by lilymhe, charles_leclerc, logansargeant, landonorris, georgerussell64 and 23,832,993 others

unfortunatelyy/n: shhhh, my common sense is tingling, something you clearly don’t have

tagged alex_albon

view 11,482,399 comments

user1: the deadpool references, she is not holding back 😭

user2: dayummmm pop off queen

user3: can’t wait till it’s george’s turn i just KNOW she’s going to use the 2023 intro pose

alex_albon: HOW MANY TIMES DO I NEED TO APOLOGISE

unfortunatelyy/n: @landonorris ?

landonorris: do i have to

unfortunatelyy/n: yep

landonorris: are you sure

unfortunatelyy/n: YES

landonorris: fine.

landonorris: she only takes apologies in cash no card 💅🎀💋

unfortunatelyy/n: mhm that’s right

user4: HELP

user5: girl has homie in a chokehold fr

user6: the second pic 😭

lilymhe: what is that first pic 🤣

unfortunatelyy/n: alex tried to steal my car so I ran him over

alex_albon: THAT DID NOT HAPPEN

landonorris: y/n doesn’t even have her licence

unfortunatelyy/n: HEY WHAT DID I SAY

landonorris: im sorry 😔

unfortunatelyy/n: as you should be

georgerussell64: why do i have a feeling that i’m next

unfortunatelyy/n: my goodness, he has a brain AND feelings would you look at that

georgerussell64: oh you think you’re so funny don’t you

unfortunatelyy/n: i do actually

georgerussell64: 🖕

unfortunatelyy/n: 😘

user7: they’re never beating the siblings allegations i fear

unfortunatelyy/n: negative. i would rather die than be related to this child

user8: child 😭 i’m wheezing

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, olliebearman, carlossainz55 and 6,923,749 others

unfortunatelyy/n: you look like something i drew with my left hand, which is coincidentally my non dominant hand

view 3,482,429 comments

user2: I KNEWWW ITTTT AHAHAHA I CALLED IT BITCHES

user1: HELP Y/N WHERE DID U FIND THAT SECOND PIC 😭😭

unfortunatelyy/n: dm me 😌

georgerussell64: nO STOP

unfortunatelyy/n: whatcha gonna do old man

user5: OLD MAN IM WHEEZING 💀

user6: so is george

user7: 😭😭

georgerussell64: call in the reinforcements @landonorris @alex_albon

unfortunatelyy/n: AHAHAHAHAHHA

georgerussell64: why are you laughing . . . guys? guys where are you

| unfortunatelyy/n: their loyalty lies with me peasant

georgerussell64: i can never win around here

unfortunatelyy/n: im glad you’ve come to terms with that

georgerussell64: OH YOU SUCK

unfortunatelyy/n: that’s what you get for being an ass

georgerussell64: IT WAS LANDO’S IDEA

unfortunatelyy/n: GASP

unfortunatelyy/n: WHAT

unfortunatelyy/n: jk i already know

user6: HELP 😭

georgerussell64: then why are u getting mad at me 😭

unfortunatelyy/n: cuz you’re fun to bully

georgerussell64: blocked and reported 🛑

unfortunatelyy/n: its ok you’re not the first

landonorris: she’s right 😐

unfortunatelyy/n: ugliness rears it’s head once again

landonorris: oh you are the worst

unfortunatelyy/n: 😘

a/n: tysm if you got to the end, have an amazing day xoxo santanasaintmendes

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin

#olliebearman x reader #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f2 #f1 #cosmic girl records series #santanaspeaks<3 #george russell #lando norris #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #george russell x reader #alex albon x reader #2019 rookies #deadpool and wolverine #Spotify

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elvensorceress · 6 months

Text

not quite tuesday tidbit teases

it's probably tuesday somewhere and this just popped in my head and I wanted to share. what do you think? do we want more?

tagging if any of you want to share something 😘 @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @messyhairdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @tizniz @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @diazsdimples @watchyourbuck @wh0re-behavi0r @911onabc @chaosandwolves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rogerzsteven @epicbuddieficrecs @bekkachaos @fiona-fififi @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @lover-of-mine @mikereads @jesuiscenseedormir @lemonzestywrites 💕

It’s just after midnight and Buck is going to bed.

He’s been saying this for a couple hours but YouTube had too many AItA videos and Instagram had those gorgeously edited food recipe posts and he doesn’t even want to talk about the doomscrolling of TikTok. But he had a day off and it was supposed to be with Tommy so they could take the weekend and go somewhere fun and romantic, but then Tommy had to work. Buck could’ve gone in with the rest of A shift. But it was nice to have some alone time for himself so he took time for himself.

His phone goes off with a call five seconds after he’s gotten into bed. It’s a number he doesn’t know. So he could ignore it. Or wait until they’ve left a message. But who would call at this hour for no reason? Or for scamming, telemarketing reasons?

So Buck answers.

“Buckley?” The man on the other end says. He sounds vaguely familiar but not enough that Buck came put a name or face with a voice.

“Uh, yeah? Who is this?”

“Mehta. Captain Mehta. Of the 133.”

“Oh, hey,” Buck says, automatically friendly and smiling. That makes sense now. “What’s up? Why the— why are you calling?” Why would he call in the middle of the night?

Why does anyone call in the middle of the night.

“Buckley,” he says and it sounds… it sounds… it sounds like…

They have him now. They’ll take care of him. Why don’t we get you cleaned up. He’s in good hands. They’ll rush him to surgery. You don’t have to worry. Let’s get you cleaned up.

Lets get you cleaned up.

Buck can’t breathe. His whole body is cold. Frozen.

He tries to get out of bed. He tries, but just slides to the floor beside it. He doesn’t make it any further.

“Buckley, there was a helicopter crash. Your team, our team we went to rescue the pilot. Your, uh, sorry, I don’t know what you call him, but your boyfriend? Life partner? He—”

Oh god. No. No, that’s not. That’s not happening. That is not what is happening right now. This can’t be a, Tommy is dead and I’m letting you know. It can’t be that. It’s not. They were going to—

They were supposed to have a romantic trip together. Wine tasting and some kind of museum Tommy thought Buck would love and maybe a visit to a hot springs up north and they were going to watch the sunset and the sunrise and—

And he can’t be dead. He can’t be.

“He’s alive,” Mehta says. “We’re at Cedars-Sinai. He’s alive, but. It doesn’t look good. He’s in the ICU now. He’s critical.”

Buck pushes himself up. Has to. He has to be there.

He barely remembers to thank Mehta or even end the call before he switches off his phone and runs out the door.

The drive is a blur. The drive is probably very illegal and he doesn’t know how he doesn’t crash, but he doesn’t have time to wait for an Uber or for anyone else. He runs as fast as possible to the ER lobby, and almost runs directly into Chimney.

Not almost. Buck crashes into him and almost knocks them both to the floor but that almost actually is an almost because Chim somehow steadies them both.

He’s pale. Shaken up. His eyes are red. He’s been crying.

“Chim,” Buck says as broken as he feels. “Chim, where— where is he? What happened? How did this happen? Please tell me he’s okay. He can’t be dying, right? That can’t be happening?”

Chim opens his mouth and grips Buck’s arms tighter, still trying to steady him. “Buck, we— we don’t know yet. It was bad, but he’s tough. You know that. He could be fine.”

Buck lets out a broken whimper and backs away from him. “No. He is fine. He’s fine and this isn’t happening. I just— Chim, I just found him. I can’t lose him already.”

There’s a flash of something on Chimney’s face but there’s movement around Buck, too. Other people. Bobby, he’s pretty sure. And Hen. They would be here. They would try to comfort him. But they don’t need to because it’s fine. Everything is fine and this isn’t happening.

It can’t be happening.

He can’t be dying.

There’s more movement and it’s all blurry, probably filtered through tears, but then everything stops. The world stops.

Tommy is right in front of him. Whole, alive, real, a little rumpled and there are bloody scratches and bandages on his face and around his arm. But he’s here. He’s fine.

Buck slams into him, throws his arms around him, and sobs as he clutches him.

“Baby,” Tommy says softly as he hugs Buck tightly, cradling him, comforting him, and Buck can breathe. He’s not frozen. Everything is okay. They were all wrong. Buck knew they were wrong. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tommy tells him and holds him tighter.

Buck pulls back just to look at him. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He takes a deep breath and smiles because Tommy is fine. He’s right here and everything is good. Buck touches Tommy’s battered face and caresses him gently. He’s bruised and also pale, and very soggy. It’s been stormy tonight. Another reason why Buck wasn’t all that eager to go out in it. “They told me— fuck, they scared me. I thought— I thought I lost you. I was so scared. I don’t want to lose you. He told me—Mehta, Captain Mehta— he called and told me there was a helicopter crash and my boyfriend was in the ICU and he’s critical and it didn’t look good, and I can’t— god, I can’t. Tommy, I—”

Tommy’s face isn’t good. It’s pale. Bad. Not smiling. Not relieved. It falls and he can’t even hide the devastation on it. He looks like guilt and death, and his mouth moves but nothing comes out. “Evan,” he finally says, barely says. It’s too quiet, too broken. “Evan…”

No. No, Buck doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want to throw up right now. And he just might. His heart is rabbit speed lightning and his legs don’t exist anymore and there’s an awful blackhole of apocalyptic world-ending destruction swirling and growing in his stomach.

Someone takes his arm. Someone needs his attention. He’s moved from Tommy’s arms because there is no safety or comfort anymore. There’s no relief. There’s no happily ever after, nothing will ever be okay.

Buck knows why Mehta said what he said. He knows who isn’t here. He knows who would have come to him and immediately comforted him.

He knows.

He knows what this is now. It can’t be that. It can’t. Buck doesn’t know anything.

Hen tells him. She holds his arm and says calmly even if it’s broken. Everything is broken. They’re all broken. “Buck. It’s Eddie.”

No. No, it isn’t. It isn’t that either. Buck really can’t take that. It was bad enough, unimaginable enough the other way. It can’t be this.

He’s already done this. They did this before. More than once. Forty plus feet of cruel earth and a whirling burst of metal and blood all over him.

Eddie’s blood was all over him.

“The helicopter went down and got stuck on the cliffs. He went in so he could pull Tommy out, and we got Tommy out,” Hen tells him, every word a knife stabbing through both of them. All of them.

“He saved me,” Tommy says, quiet and full of regret. “He saved me and went down with it. They thought it was stable enough. It wasn’t. They got him out after. But…”

Buck collapses to his knees on the floor and holds his head in his own hands as if he can somehow hold himself together when there’s no holding himself together.

It’s Eddie.

It’s Eddie it’s Eddie it’s Eddie.

Buck shatters like flimsy glass and sobs in all the pieces that are ripped out of him. What about Chris? What about Abuela? What about Eddie’s parents and sisters and friends and everyone else who loves him?

What about Buck? They can’t be BuckandEddie without Eddie.

“I need to see him,” Buck suddenly says to the closest person who will listen. “I need to be with him. Please. Please.”

There’s arguing that happens. Bobby yells at someone. Hen, Chim, and Tommy stay around him like a protective guard. Until someone finally agrees. He’s not in surgery, they can’t take him to surgery yet. He’s not stable enough. But he’s on a ventilator, life support. They warn him and Buck doesn’t care. He knows how bad these things can be. He’s lived through several.

They give him five minutes.

They’ll have to drag him out with an armed guard if they think Buck will agree to only that. But at least it’s something.

It’s something.

Eddie is mostly covered. Blankets, wires, tubes, IV lines, bandages. He’s paler than all of them. Slightly blue-purple, cyanotic. They tell him a few things but Buck can’t hear them. He just wants to be with Eddie.

Buck sits beside him and rests a shaking hand over Eddie’s hand, under the blankets where it’s trying to be warm. Buck would give anything to keep him warm, and alive.

Eddie needs to stay alive. He needs to.

Buck rests his forehead on the side of the bed near their joined hands. He would say something if he had the capacity to form words and sentences. The only thing in his head right now is, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.

And that’s probably all he can say. All that really matters.

Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please, don’t ever leave me.

(read now on AO3)

#tease tidbit tuesday #jenwyn wip #buddie wip #mentions of #bucktommy #but this is me okay lol anything and everything is about buddie #911 #buddie #fic: if i should fall

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namikawa · 3 months

Text

— [the perfect host]

featuring: s. geto, s. gojo

cw: smut, implied threesome, cunnulingus, implied m/m, phone sex (?), daddy kink (ofc), established relationship (reader & gojo), fingering, fem reader, chubby reader, getting “caught” masturbating, use of the word cunt (sorry lol), aftercare, not proofread fr, anything else i forgot lolz, pet names (mama, baby, pretty, sweetheart, love). wc: n/a.

notes: this is actually a fic my friend wrote (never published) & i re did it with two diff characters & finished it for her cause she never did… so if yall like it GO TO HER BLOG ILL TAG HER. this wasn’t my og idea i just wrote the smut and tweaked & added. but enjoy pls, sorry i haven’t posted in so long life has beat me up. @nvmjccnluv !!!

“so explain to me why i’m watching her again, she seems completely capable of staying in your apartment alone yknow.” suguru questions over the phone. it’s not that he hates you, but what if he was busy? he wasn’t, but gojo didn’t need to know that, he didn’t even ask to be fair. quickly dropping you off after handing the long haired man a small bag of your things.

on the other end of the phone gojo lets out a huff of laughter. “had a few things to finish up, she gets too lonely when i leave her at home so i didn’t want her getting into things. you know how it is.”

“i actually don’t, but okay man.”

“anyway, she doesn’t like many people but she didn’t seem to mind you the last time we hung out, you seemed like a safe option.” gojo continues, sounding a bit strained.

“okay, whatever, fine.”

“where’s she at anyways? if she was with you she would’ve jumped your bones to get to the phone.”

walking toward the the closed door in the hallway, geto chuckles before reassuring his friend. “relax dude, she’s in the room taking a na- holy shit.”

“what happened??”

the dark haired man places his ear on the door to make sure he’s not hallucinating, not saying that he’s hoping to be.

muffled moans greet his ears, but not muffled enough evidently. no, you wanted him to hear. he would have to pass by your room anyways, given that you two would be sharing a wall for the night. but him being on the phone with your boyfriend was just a coincidence, an extremely embarrassing one.

he listens to your soft whines and high pitched whimpers for what feels like days, though its hasn’t even been half a minute, paying no mind to the man yelling at him on the phone.

“SUGURU? ANSWER ME! IS SHE OKAY? I SWEAR IF SOMETHING HAPPE-” at this point geto tries to think as hard as possible to come up with a lie that won’t get him killed by his friend.

snapping out of his daze, he finally gets enough courage to respond, “yeah um i’m pretty sure, maybe i’m wrong, i think she’s uh masturbating.”

“oh, oh okay” suguru can basically hear a smirk he knows all to well forming on gojos mouth. “don’t be a rude host, go help her out man.”

what the fuck is he talking about help you out? he can’t be understanding that this is his girlfriend he’s talking about, right? on top of that, shouldn’t he be asking you for consent as well.

“are you insane man? i know you’re into all that weird shit, but her? she’d probably kill me before i even got close to the bed and throw my dead body out of my own apartment.” as nice as it sounds he didn’t know if you’d be okay with any of this. he wasn’t going to just walk straight in, right?

there’s a loud howl that comes directly from the other end of the phone. “are you really being this much of a pussy right now? i’m giving you full permission to go help my girl out, and you wanna whine about how she might kill y-”

“shut the hell up man, i didn’t say anything about being a pussy.”

“alright, then there shouldn’t be an issue with you helping her out. don’t sit up on your high horse and act like you haven’t thought about it before, i know just how those perverted thoughts of yours work, don’t you rememb-”

“okay okay shut up satoru, im going.”

pushing open the door, the first thing geto notices is your hand rubbing lightly between your soft thighs and how your wetness soaks the bed, clear evidence of how needy you were. how long have you been at it?

gojo can hear you so clearly over the phone, he might as well be in the room with you, “shit, is that her pussy i’m hearing? whats it look like?” he questions, but unfortunately for him he receives no answer.

suguru is too busy enjoying the view and listening to the pathetic little sounds coming from your cunt. his sweatpants are slowly starting to fit a little tighter than before, but he doesn’t make any movements yet, just in case you don’t wanna play this little game.

almost immediately your soft eyes flutter open and lock into his, and he swears he just came in his pants.

“sugi, please, it hurts so much,” you whine out to him, desperate for his veiny hands on you. your own hand never seems to falter though, only moving in more erratic circles around your sensitive clit; while your other hand is busy touching your nipples, trying to get the most stimulation possible.

knowing that you were just as needy for him as he was for you made the man’s confidence peak. he gives you a light smile as he walks closer to the bed, softly sitting down next to you. he leans over you a bit, close enough to where you can smell the minty, almost overpowering, scent of his shampoo. half his hair loosely tied up in a bun, the other half falling past his shoulders as he looks down at you.

“something wrong, pretty? those fingers not doing enough for you, right? don’t ‘cha wanna wait for your boyfriend to come back so he can help you out, he’s on the phone you know.”

his soft hands begin to work at your thighs, but it seems like it’ll never be any more than that. continuing for a little longer, he presses the speaker button on his phone, handing it over to you as you pull away from your core.

“can you hear me, sweetheart?” gojo asks, now finally getting some time to speak to you after being ignored for so long. “i gave sugi permission to help you out, okay? does that sound alright to you?” he utilizes the small nickname you’d given his friend, innocently coercing you to be good.

you give a small “mmm” in agreement. then, opening your legs, you grab at suguru’s hand and place it between your thighs, just barely touching your cunt.

gojo continues, smiling to himself on the other side of the device. “‘kay. i’m gonna talk you through it, just so i know you’re treating my girl right. take two of your fingers and stuff it inside of her, she’ll clench up at first but just keep working at it and she’ll open up, okay? maybe if you do good, you can have something too.”

geto lets out an annoyed breath, short, but just long enough for gojo to catch it. he knows what that means. what’s even stopping him from fucking you in first place? it’s not like gojo would know. but as he looks into your pleading eyes he realizes he’d do anything to make sure you’re content and happy.. even if that means listening to satoru’s perverted requests.

his fingers slide down to rub at your clit just a bit, before burying his pointer and ring finger deep into your cunt, you clench so tight around him, it makes him feel like he’s dreaming the way your teeth suck at your bottom lip attempting to hide your whines.

“cmon pretty, open up for me. promise i’ll make you feel good, okay?”

a throaty whimper slides from between your lips as geto’s fingers work you open. “‘s good sugi, please like that more.” you scoot down a little more, chasing his fingers to get even just a little more stimulation.

“next you’re gonna press on her clit, just a little though she’s a sensitive little thing.” gojo groans out, it’s obvious he’s taken a break from his work to focus on… other things.

“yeah yeah, i know how to use my fingers, asshole.” suguru voices, clearly annoyed. although, he still abides by the instructions and moves his thumb to press on your clit just a tiny bit. your back arches away from his fingers almost immediately, like a natural instinct, he grabs your plush hips with his other hand, pulling you back down. “nuh uh, c’mere sweet girl, you wanted my help you’re gonna get it.”

his delicate fingers curve upward into you and you feel as if you’re floating on cloud nine, the way he flicks them at just the right speed while managing to hold you down and deepen his movements. it’s all too much for him you.

the sound of gojo’s voice breaks geto out of his daze, “fuck, i gotta go suguru. i know you’ll take care of her. i’m gonna have to cut this shit short, i’ll try to come back later tonight instead of tomorrow morning. love you guys, love you baby, be good for sugi okay?” geto’s eyes immediately flicker to yours, and you see just a little bit of what you think could be fear, or excitement, in his eyes.

“bye daddy, love you too.” you whine out, hearing a quick click before the call ends.

“daddy?” he questions. “knew he was into some shit, didn’t know you were too, sweet girl. you’re too pretty and innocent, or at least you put up a good act.” his fingers slide out of you as he snickers, not ignoring the way you pout at the loss of stimuli.

“nah, not gonna leave you here all needy don’t worry mama, just gonna do it my way, that sound good to you?” geto grabs you by your hips as you choke out a small “yea”, pushing you closer to the headboard of the bed. he fully removes his hair tie and throws all of it up into a bun, swiftly grabbing your underwear and pulling it off.

you look down at him as he crawls closer to you on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your thighs and closing them around his head. you feel his fingers spread your cunt apart, licking a long stripe onto you. your body tenses up, and on instinct your hand finds its way into suguru’s hair, tugging lightly. his head perks up at you, smiling, but eventually just deciding to leave you be.

his tongue swipes over your clit, taking small breaths occasionally as he tastes your cunt. neither one of you know who this is really for at this point. he’s supposed to be ‘helping you’ but with the tent growing in his sweats he might as well be doing this for his own pleasure instead. you continue to take harsh pulls at his dark strands, so unfamiliar to you. mostly with satoru you opted for scratching at his shoulders or gripping at the sheets due to the length he kept his hair, but this, this was something you could get used to.

“sugi please, m so close, want it so bad, need you to make me cum.” you cry out, loving the way his nose rubs against your clit as he licks.

he doesn’t say anything, he can’t really, but you know he understands. he grips your thighs tighter, licking the same way as before, occasionally sucking at your clit, and before you know it you’re squirming all over his face as that familiar feeling rushes over you.

the only thing that suguru could make out of your cries were “thank you”, “so good”, and “daddy”? he wasn’t sure if you were calling him daddy or if you wanted gojo, but at this point it didn’t really matter to him. he pleased you and that’s all he needed to make him feel better.

as he lifted his head up from your pussy he could already tell how tired you were getting, he immediately grabbed you a change of clothes that gojo had packed and cleaned you up with a wet washcloth. “everything okay, mama? need anything?” your eyes strain open and you smile at the man standing above you, “i’m okay, thank you for your help. will you stay?” you could tell that he genuinely cared for you, and was worried he had done something wrong by the tone in his voice. him staying was more for him rather than yourself, not that you were complaining.

he pulled off his shirt as he crawled into bed next to you. grabbing his phone from the bedside table he saw that gojo had sent him a message.

“i’ll take care of you both when i’m back, cause i’m betting you didn’t take anything for yourself. see you both soon ;)”

suguru chuckled to himself at the message from his friend, looking down at you peacefully sleeping on his chest. maybe he could get used to something like this? but for now, he’s content.

#satosugu #gojo satoru #gojo saturo smut #geto suguru #geto suguru smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #geto x you #✉️#getou suguru x reader #geto smut #geto fluff #gojo fluff

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months

Text

Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we exit the “enemies” phase, think of the enemies to friends as the match being lit and think of the friends to lovers as the candle taking thousands of words to burn. Chapter title from Homemade Dynamite by Lorde

Word Count: 6.9k (nice)

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Things start to change in the safe house. Contains usual tags.

Read on A03!

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Somehow, after the mission, you slept. Not well, but you did. You didn’t see Soldier Boy for almost fourteen hours after that odd moment in your room, only for him to suddenly drop on the couch next to you, watching the newly-fixed TV, holding a bowl and spoon.

“What the fuck is this,” he gestured to show playing on the screen, his mouth half-full with cereal. Crumbs fell into his beard, and he looked at the TV as if it had personally offended him.

You answered slowly, glancing between his loud, sloppy chews and the milk in his bowl, sloshing up to the sides as he settled into his seat. “Netflix.”

“That’s a stupid name for a show,” he snorted. “What does that even fucking mean?”

You shook your head. “No, the show is called Santa Clarita Diet. I’m watching it on Netflix.” He gave you a glance with a frown but remained silent, raising his eyebrows as you stared blankly.

His voice was clipped when he spoke. “What the fuck is Netflix?”

“Oh, um, it’s like a network. Like a modern TV station. It has a bunch of movies and shows, but you don’t have to wait for a certain time to watch them.”

“Huh,” he looked back to the TV. “Cocksucker mentioned something like that. I thought he was making shit up.”

“No, on demand is a pretty common thing now.” You shrugged.

“So all TV is on Newflux?”

“Netflix,” you corrected, growing more and more bemused by the conversation. “And no. We kind of just reinvented cable in a different format. There’s like a million of these websites, Vought even has their own. From what I can tell, the CIA gave us Netflix, Max, Disney, and Prime.”

“They’ll do that, but they won’t buy me weed,” he grumbled. “Fucking uptight pussies.”

“Yeah, well. They didn’t get us ad-free Disney or Prime, so I wouldn’t hold your breath about them giving you drug money.”

Soldier Boy only grunted, attention fixated on the TV. The silence between you stretched as you tried to figure out a perfect, organic way to bring up the whole “I told you what Homelander did to me and you put away groceries without me asking, what the fuck is happening” thing. Just as you were about to say something, hoping that the words would find you in the moment, you were cut off.

“What the fuck is this even about?” Soldier Boy asked with a sullen voice, still not looking away from the show.

“Uh, suburban zombies. I can change it if you want.” Anything, you thought, to keep this lack of antagonistic conversation going.

“No.” You waited for more elaboration but realized he wasn’t going to offer any, having fully turned away from you. You both remained on the couch, his eyes locked to screen as you remained in your seat, afraid to move and ruin whatever was happening.

The episode ended without any outbursts from either you or Soldier Boy, and you reached for the remote, only to be hit in the head by a soggy cheerio.

“What the hell?” You picked the cereal from your hair, turning to see Soldier Boy’s frustratingly casual expression. “What was that?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, nodding his head to where your hand had been on the remote.

“Why did you throw cereal at me?!” You snapped, holding the now mushy projectile to his face.

“To get your attention,” he answered, giving you an odd look. “You always get all bitchy when I touch you.”

“Oh.” You hesitated, your confusion only growing. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I can’t read your fucking mind. If it’s because of the Homelander thing, though, then you should remember-“

“No,” you rubbed your face in frustration. “Why did you need my attention?”

He rolled his eyes, as if it were obvious. “We’re going to keep watching this shit. It’s the least stupid thing I’ve seen so far. But you should fucking remember-“

“You could’ve just said that instead of throwing shit at me-“

“Would you fucking listen?” His familiar angry glare was beginning to form, so you closed your mouth. “If the touch thing is because of that Star-spangled pussyfuck Homelander, I meant what I fucking said last night.”

Your body tensed, trying to recall what he might be referencing. Last night, along with the previous twenty-four hours, had been replayed so much in your head it had become a simple blur of bad. "What you said?”

“I’m no rapist. I’m not an ugly pussy asshat who needs to.”

You look at him with an incredulous gape. “Needs to?”

“No part of sex is fun if she doesn’t want it. I like my woman begging me to keep going, and I only bite if they ask.” He gave you a brash grin. “I’ll show you whenever you want, Sunshine.”

“Charming,” you said under your breath, employing your now expert skills at ignoring his advances. “Would you like a trophy for the bare minimum?”

“I’m fucking serious.” He hissed, smile dropping, catching you off guard with the intensity and firmness of his expression. “If that’s why you’re so fucking annoying about me touching you, get over it.”

“Get over it?” You give a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking serious? First off, it has nothing to do with Homelander. Second off, if it did, I’m not going to just ‘get over it’ because this is 'annoying' for you.”

“Well then, what will make you get over it?” His question, though impatient, was said with a face of biting sincerity. At least, the closest thing to sincerity you deemed him capable of.

You tilted your head at him. “It’s not something I can get over.” Before he could respond, his mouth opening with a frown and squinted eyes, you continued. “It’s one of my powers. I can feel people’s emotions when I touch them, even if I don’t want to. I can’t turn it off, or ‘get over it’.”

His mouth remained open for another second, and you could almost see his brain slowly turning in his head. You waited, your own mind spinning with possible reactions he might meet you with. Wrathful shouting, angered distrust, cold disgust, forceful words and distance.

“Do you not like what you feel from me?” He asked, no twisted fury on his face, eyes filled with that analytical, intrusive look.

“No, that doesn’t matter to me. It's intrusive, and usually people don’t like when I do it, so I just avoid touching anyone.”

“But you can’t fucking control it.” His words didn’t seem to be directed at you, but his glare made it feel like they were. “It’s not your fucking fault all those pussies have so many fucking secrets.”

You give him a passive shrug. “Doesn’t matter. It’s still against their will.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” he mutters. “For fucks sake.”

You tilt your head at him, unable to place where his disbelief and frustration was coming from, even more unsure who was facing the brunt end of it. “I mean, it can’t be that insane that people don’t like it. It’s not like you’d want someone poking around inside your feelings.”

“Sunshine, of all the things to care about, that is one of the most fucking stupid things I’ve ever fucking heard. No, I don’t care about you ‘poking around inside my feelings’, because I’m not a fucking pussy with something to hide.” He gives you another odd look, accompanied by a pause before he spoke again. “Is that where your name comes from?”

“My, my name?” You feel yourself pale, still trying to fully grasp his previous declaration.

He watches you through narrowed eyes. “Your supe name. The Anomaly.”

Your blood might have evaporated, a petrifying cold running through you. “Don’t call me that.”

“I heard MM and the French Prick using it.” He looked slightly thrown by your response, but didn’t stop pushing. “Is it a fucking secret?”

“No,” you answer, trying to keep your voice level, your words acquiring a rambling quality. “It’s completely accurate. I couldn’t think of better one if I tried. Having fou-“ you cut off your slip. “Three completely unique powers on top of the usual supe-sauce is… anomalous. But I fucking hate it. I- I really hate it.” You trailed off, rubbing your arms uneasily.

“Why? It’s just a fucking name.” His voice was casual, almost bored, but he’d leaned forward with feet firmly on the ground, waiting for your answer with an impatient frown.

You’d frozen though, as white walls and straps, cold needles and cuts, and expressionless, masked people above you flashed in your head. Ghosts of fear the first time, devastation the second, emptiness the third, and fury the fourth echoed through your body. Moments of violating change and feelings of uncontrollable, off-balance infestation in your body that would haunt you for the rest of your life. You turned to Soldier Boy, who was still watching with a deep crease in his brow as the TV show played in white noise, and forced words from your chest, to your throat, and out of your mouth.

“If the Russians gave you a name, would you want people to use it?” You said carefully, and watched his first clench at your question, the bowl almost cracking under his grip.

He kept your gaze as he responded, a cool, rough brutality in his words. “I would fucking kill the pussy who was stupid enough to mention it.” You give him a pointed look, and watch the understanding slowly fall into place in his head. All that left him was a grunt, and he turned his body and focused back on the TV, the conversation abruptly over.

The afternoon slipped into evening, the evening into night, and hardly any more words were exchanged. You said good night as you stood to retreat to your room, and he gave a muttered acknowledgment in response. Your sleep was poor but long, and when you walked out into the hall the following morning, you found Soldier Boy standing right outside your door. His arms were crossed, one hand holding the TV remote, and he spoke the moment he saw you.

“Where the fuck is the rest of it?” His intense, demanding tone was far too firm for how early it was.

You gave him a droopy blink, noticing the same shirt and jeans from the day before. “Did you go to bed at all?”

“No. Where is it?” You try to move past him, but he moves to block your path. “Where?”

You rubbed your face, trying to squeeze out the lingering and puffy sleep. “I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“The show,” he spoke as if it were obvious, continuing to glower down at you as he waved the remote in your face. “You left, and then it was suddenly over and some weird fucking shit started playing. Fix it.”

You squint at him. “That show was canceled in, like, 2018. There isn’t any more.”

His expression was remarkably distressed. “Why the fuck would they do that?!”

“Netflix isn’t great at understanding popular demand,” you rub your eyes again as the dry of your mouth starts to fade. “But there’s like, an insane amount of shows out there. We can find something else.”

“Nothing else is good,” he grumbled. “All that played after was some stupid dating show. I had to watch a group of fucking idiots sit in rooms and whine about love all night.”

“You had to?” You roll your eyes with a snort. “What, did Butcher arrive with a gas mask and threaten to knock you out if you didn’t? If it’s so painful for you, just change it, or turn it off.”

He glares at your mockery, rubbing his neck as he mutters, “I don’t know how.”

"Huh?" His words had passed right through your ears as you tried and failed to keep your slugglish attention from drifting.

"I don't fucking know how," he practically barked, his face red as he refused to look at you. "It's my fucking fault technology is so fucking stupid now."

“Oh,” You feel a small amount of guilt as you realize that his scowl is one of embarrassment, his annoyed tone most likely rooted in frustration. “Wait, how have you been using it for two weeks?”

“I’d just hit buttons until something happened. It worked fine until you started that stupid Netflix shit.”

With a deep breath and sigh, you extend your hand for the remote. When he doesn’t move, you grab it from him with a tug and duck around him. “Follow me.”

Soldier Boy trails after you as you descend the stairs, stopping at your side as you reach the TV. You raise your arm to turn it off, but glance at his still-scrunched face, his bothered expression, and hand the remote back to him instead.

He stares down at his hands before looking back at the TV, then to you, his scowl only more confused. “Nothing fucking happened.”

“You’re going to do it.” You explain, pointing from the remote to the illuminated screen. “I’ll walk you through it, but you’re going to do it yourself.” “Fuck no,” he tries to return the remote to you. “You do it.”

You hold your hands behind your back. “If you want to live any sort of life in the 21st century after this, you’re going to want to know how to use a TV.”

“I can use a fucking TV.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “A shitty, twenty-year-old motel TV. Unless you want us to put you in a memory unit, gramps, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

“Bitch,” he grunts, but he stops trying to pawn off the remote.

“Cunt.”

His knuckles are white around the remote as he gives you an impatient, expectant look.

“Raise your hand like this, with that side,” you tap the head of the remote. “Facing the TV.”

He mimics your movements, and you give a nod of approval.

“Good, now hit that button.” When he doesn’t, you grab his finger and adjust to sit where you had pointed. “Ok, now that one.”

“Why are all these fucking buttons hidden and not labeled. Buttons used to be fucking labeled.”

You shrug. “For most people it’s intuitive, I guess.” You point to another button. “Now hit that one, and I’ll teach you how to search.”

This continues for another painstakingly drawn-out ten minutes. Once you’re absolutely sure he can passably navigate, raise and lower volume, and turn off the TV altogether, you step back.

“That’s it,” you offer him a grin. “Easy as breathing.”

He makes a grumbling, incoherent sound, dropping back on the couch. After a moment of staring at the menu on the screen, he looks up at you from his seat with an irritable frown. “You just going to fucking stand there?”

You blink at him, catch that his curt words are meant to be an offer, and move around the couch and to take the same spot you occupied yesterday. He offers you the remote back, and when you don’t take it he throws it onto your lap.

You give him a tired sigh. “The whole point of this-“

“I’ve never seen any of this shit. You said you’d find something else I’d like, Sunshine. Prove it.”

You raise your brows, but your protests die on your tongue, and you start scrolling through the display.

“I’m not that fucking old,” he grunts over your focus.

“What?” Half your attention still on the TV, you watch him shift forward in your periphery.

“I’m not that fucking old,” he repeats. “I’m not your fucking gramps.”

You glance at him, a hum of amusement leaving you. “You’re over a hundred. It’s not like you’re forty and I’m calling you ancient. Besides,” you give yourself a small smile. “Hughie told me about your little trysts with mature women. Mature woman, forty years your junior.” You stick out your tongue at him. “Cradle robber.”

“I don’t discriminate.” He says, leaning back to lounge on the couch. “And it’s not robbing the cradle if there’s no one that’s-“ he cuts himself off as he almost slips and admits your point. He gives you a glower, daring you to say something. “I’m not old.”

“Someone’s sensitive,” you mumble with a small, genuine smile, and before he can jab back, you hit play on a comedy special, turn the volume to max, and recline into the cushions.

The next set of days pass in similar fashion, and though Soldier Boy doesn’t stop grumbling insults and annoyances, picking small fights, or calling you a bitch, your childish psychological warfare has come to a halt, there’s no more throwing of chairs or explosions, and the word “bitch” off his tongue lacks the malice it did before. You quickly discover that Soldier Boy is a lot more like a toddler than anyone could have possibly guessed. You start leaving out snacks of cheese and fruit on the counter and rarely return to find it still in its spot. If you sit with him, he’ll stay shockingly still, but will make little snipes at the television. Sometimes you catch him after a comment, watching to see if you’re entertained by his words, and learn that even a vaguely amused smile makes him take on an overtly smug grin himself. At one point you start writing down a list of his less than progressive phrases, labeling it “Soldier Boy Racist Grampa Highlights," until he catches you, grabbing the list from next to you when he notices his name.

“The fucks this?” He’d asked as he scanned the page.

“I got bored,” you shrugged, and he rolled his eyes.

“This one’s not even that bad,” he pointed to a more recent addition, and you leaned over to read it.

“You called Hughie a cocksucking queer piss-boy. He’s not even here to defend himself.”

“So?”

You just gave him a flat look and returned your attention to the book you’d been skimming. You noticed him pocket the list, though, and over the next few days he started to pull it out whenever the apparently vital urge to insult someone showed its face. While the vulgarity didn’t decrease, the use of language you could only describe as tasteless and bigoted, did. Hughie even received a demotion to a “cocksucking pussy.”

He still rarely slept, instead locking himself in his room late at night and only emerging once you wake up. Once you pass his room on a 3am trip to the bathroom, walking in soft, toed steps to avoid disturbing him, only for the light leaking under his door to flood the hallway as he opens it.

“It’s not morning,” he watches you, leaning against his doorframe. “You should be asleep.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” is what you try to say. But between your clouded brain, restless need for the bathroom, and energy-drained body, what comes out is a string of sounds in a whiny tone.

“What was that?” His voice is taunting, but lacks any real edge.

“Cunt.” You mumble, trying to look at least a little menacing and, based off of what you think is a grin on Soldier Boy’s face, not succeeding.

“Bitch. You know, if you’re not tired, I’d be willing to help get you there.” He’s probably giving you a cocky, suggestive eyebrow wriggle, but between the sleepy squint of your eyes and light casting him in a silhouette, you really can’t tell. When you just make another mumble in response, he chuckles “Go back to bed, Sunshine, you’re going to collapse.”

“Nu-uh,” is all you can manage, and start to shuffle down the hall once more. When you emerge from the bathroom, your vision filled with spots after trying to turn on the lights only to be blinded, his door is closed once more, and you return to your room, collapsing back into useless, terror-fraught sleep.

When you walk into the kitchen that morning, the coffee pot is full.

———-

“What’s the third?”

You look up from your trudge through a CIA-provided, untranslated copy of Beowulf to find Soldier Boy staring at you from the door of your room.

“Third what?”

Taking that as an invitation, he stepped fully through the door to stand at the edge of your bed. “Third power. You’ve got your fireworks and feelings shit, what the fuck’s the third?”

You mark your page and meet his insistent face. “I told you that what, like ten days ago? Did you only now think to ask?”

“Nine days,” he says with an eye roll. “Don’t be fucking dramatic. And you got all pissy about your supe name. Not my fault I tried to respect your stupid fucking woman emotions and dropped it.”

You laugh. “First off, add ‘woman emotions’ to the list. And you totally forgot. I can see right through you, you just didn’t want me to make more old man jokes.”

“You’re fucking doing it anyway." He mutters, taking out the crumpled paper and a pencil from his pocket, using the wall to scratch the addition. “Would’ve been a stupid fucking plan, and I’m not a sensitive pussy who cares about jokes.” He shoves the list back into his jeans, and gives you a scowl as your grin spreads further across your face.

“Literally two days ago you threw a tantrum because I asked you what dinosaurs were your friends.”

“Are you going to answer my fucking question?”

“Fine, you baby,” you snort. “I can heal people by touching them. Technically, I transfer their injuries onto me, and then I heal so quickly it doesn’t matter. That’s mostly what I was doing for the Boys before this.”

“You were playing nurse?” He frowned. “When you can withstand a nuclear blast and are a fucking human molotov? That’s fucking stupid.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I don’t really have any control over the fire. And I wasn’t just ‘playing nurse’, I helped with missions in other ways.”

“Really?” His tone was sarcastic as he gave you a doubtful look. “What, you were a human shield too?”

“Well, yeah.” You mutter sheepishly. “But it was helpful."

“Sure, Sunshine. They must be torn up without you.”

You give him a scowl. “You know, I’m not going to tell you stuff if you’re going to be a fucking dick about it.”

He blinks, mouth curving down. “I was fucking joking.”

“Wasn’t funny,” you shrug, opening up your book. “Get out of my room.”

He doesn’t move. “Why are you being a fucking bitch again?”

You sigh, staring blankly at the pages. You’d admit, even from inside your own head, your anger had blossomed quite suddenly. But his accusations of your team being absolutely unaffected by your absence stabbed you somewhere in your chest, fueling that voice in the back of your head. It was getting louder, reminding you of all that damage in your wake—how your team walked on eggshells when they spoke to you and flinched when you touched them. “Human shield” was the best description of your place within the group. “Nurse” was too generous a term for a person they let touch and heal them only if the hospital was too far away and it couldn’t wait. On rare occasions you’d convince them to forgo their protests and just let you fix their wounds, but it took promises and pleas from you and exhausted caving from them. You look back up at Soldier Boy, who has remained in his place, eyes boring into you as you’d calmed yourself.

“I don’t like being useless.” You say softly. You know the admission could return to bite you in the ass should the peace you and Soldier Boy maintained the past week crumble, but he’d surprised you once. Maybe he’d do it again. “I don’t need you to remind me that I am.”

You watch his reaction, frown growing but fuming annoyance fading. His eyes were overtaken by a surly look you couldn’t figure out. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard.”

Your jaw drops, and that thing under your skin starts to claw against your skull. “Get out.” When he doesn’t move, your voice raises. “Get out!”

“Would you just-“

“Out!” You’re at a full scream now, chucking Beowulf at him. “Get the fuck out!”

“Just fucking listen to me!” He’d stumbled back as the book hit, most likely out of shock more than anything else, but remained in your room. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice smoke starting to curl around you, but you’re too angry to try to calm it. He must notice it as well, because his face pinches slightly, no longer trying to move back to you. “I wasn’t done-“

“What, you got more stupid, cruel shit to say? About how I’m not just useless, I’m a stupid fucking bitch? A useless whore who can’t even cook? An uptight fucking prude?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman, for once in your life, shut the fuck up!” He’s yelling too now, and suddenly you can’t move. It’s not like he’s never raised his voice before, having frequent appearances in your previous daily shouting matches, but this is different. This seeps through the air into your blood and head, shutting everything in you down until all that’s left is fear. Breathing is hard, your heart can’t seem to keep up with your lungs, and your anger is quickly turning into a light-headed, frantic need to go, go, go and hide, or to start clawing and clawing at whatever comes close until this feeling leaves. All of a sudden he’s right there, he’s in front of you and grabbing your arms, shaking you and saying something you can’t hear. Slowly, the tightness around you starts changing, becoming something solid, something firm. You’re annoyed and frustrated, but under it rests an urge to cover your hands in blood over something. Your fragile terror is washed over by a vigilant alarm, and everything suddenly feels sharper. As you emerge from your own brain, you notice Soldier Boy still there, his face level with yours.

“You’re fine.” It’s not a question. He’s telling you, and suddenly you realize that you are. And as you nod, you feel the distress in you fade into something like relief. Your head drops, and you tense once more as your eyes see his hands on your biceps.

“Um,” you look between his grip on your body and his face, drawn with a confusion you can feel in yourself. You gesture your head back down, his own attention following yours, and he lets out a grunt when he sees what you’re glancing at, dropping himself from you.

He draws himself up and turns, and part of you thinks he’s going to walk out the door and leave the rest of your fight for the morning. But he stops when he opens the door, and speaks without turning.

“You’re not useless. That’s what I was trying to fucking tell you. You’re certainly worth more than any of those preachy hypocrites.” Before you can ever open your mouth, he’s gone, slamming the door behind him.

You don’t sleep that night, laying in bed with the sheets feeling too warm and itchy, your thrashing only just slower than your restless thoughts. You stare and stare at the ceiling, trying to comb through the conversation and pick apart every second so you’d know just what to say when the dawn broke. You wanted to, needed to, make sure things didn’t go back to the way they’d been before. That had been exhausting, every part of your waking moments wondering who would blow up first, listing out hypotheticals to ensure that you would win any fight he offered you. You’d take the blame, a scratch in the back of your head told you it was yours anyway, to keep this truce. As the night moves, time becomes uncertain, hours, minutes, and seconds all feeling the same. Your dread turns to shame, to doubt, to a hot, righteous anger.

This won’t wait for morning, you decide. He doesn’t get to do this, make you sink down like this. It might have been your fault, but he doesn’t get to make you sit in it. You’re going to fix this or blow it up, and you’re going to do it now.

He must be up. He’s always up. You’d seen him “sleep” twice, both times in a frighteningly controlled manner, waking himself up the moment his breathing became soft. He’s certainly up, the light in his room is escaping into the hall, and you can hear him shuffling around, but, still, you knock on his door. When it doesn’t open, you knock again, then once more after another minute of inaction.

After the fifth knock, your patience a thin thread, you shout. “I know you’re in there, Soldier Boy! The light’s on, and I can fucking hear you! We need to talk!” The sounds pick up, but still the door is shut. “Let me fucking in, you ass!”

Nothing.

The thread snaps, and you push open the door. The harsh of the light blinds you for only a second, and when your eyes adjust, you're met with the sight of Soldier Boy, asleep, with his face in crumpled in a pained grimace. Sheet askew across the bed as he grunts unintelligibly, his body looks braced against something you can’t see. You’re frozen in your place near the door, agitation forgotten. You want to wake him up, because you know far better than anyone how real these things can seem, how the pain being your head doesn’t stop the echo of it in your body. You want to leave and never speak of this again, because there’s no way he receive you seeing him like this well. But what makes you decision for you, springing you from your rooted place, is the light in his chest starting to brighten as the room starts to hum.

It’s more instinct than anything—you know that the safe house and everything in it has been built to withstand this very thing, but that knowledge doesn’t stop you—as you run to the bed and shake Soldier Boy by his shoulders. When your skin meets his a rush of fear, pure and unbridled fear as strong as it had been from you hours ago, overtakes you. Fear and anger. You don’t think you ever felt this bloodthirsty, savage anger in you before. Your anger had always been cold and zealous, calculating tributes for your sorrow. This anger didn’t care. Somebody just had to hurt, and hopefully that someone would break.

If it’d been any other circumstance, you’d have been terrified by it. But you’re not, focused entirely on waking Soldier Boy up. Later, when several hours were between you and this moment, you’d deal with this. Maybe you’d even acknowledge how, despite the distance, you still may not be afraid of it. But now, with the light only growing, you let his feelings wash through you, and you do something drastic.

You pull back and slap Soldier Boy in the face.

He roars, eyes shooting open and glazed with a feral haze, his body jerking upright and grabbing you by the throat. Even as it happens, hindsight tells you that there probably were other ways to wake him up, but this was the stupid path you’d taken, and you unfortunately could not go back.

Before your vision could grow spotty, before your own fear and images of a flickering light above you could overtake your head, he let go with another shout. You scrambled back, realizing the fever in you had crept out of your spine, trading bruises on your neck for burns on his hands.

You watch him slowly regain control, his face dropping into exhaustion and his eyes searching the room—for what exactly, you’re not sure—and finding you.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” The words are low and rough, and though they don’t sound like a question, you answer him anyway.

“I- I just wanted to talk, and you weren’t answering the door…” You trail off lamely, your words sounding hollow even to you.

He doesn’t yell at your though, or push you out. He just stares at you, as if you’re meant to continue, to try and justify your presence. But you just stare back, unsure if you want him to kick you out, talk to you, or just pass out and forget the whole thing.

Instead of those options, leaving you at yet another loss, he sits back and scoots over to the far side of the mattress. When you don’t react besides another prolonged stare, he gives a half-hearted eye roll and pats the space next to him. Slowly, slightly fearful of misunderstanding his gesture, you walk over and drop on the bed at his side.

He’s looking ahead, unreadable from only his side profile, when he speaks.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

You don’t stop watching him as you respond. “Does that happen every time?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You don’t have anything else to say—any reassurance you can think of sounding stupid even in your head. So you wait, still watching him, and sit in the silence.

“Do you not have any?” His voice is strangely soft, though no tension has left his body.

You give a small sigh. “I do. But I’m good at hiding them. Stuff like that,” you wave a hand to his chest. “Only happens on bad days.”

“Bad days?” You can see his frown forming as his lips turn down, his voice growing deeper.

“On a few missions, I saw Homelander,” you whisper, now staring ahead yourself. “From afar. Really afar. I know he didn’t ever even see me, because I’m not back… there, but whenever I see him, apparently it’s enough.” You turn back to Soldier Boy, and are met with him watching you.

“Is that what yours are about?”

You give a small nod. “Different things happen, but it’s always him. Always there.”

“Hm,” his eyes don’t leave you as he speaks. “How do you stop them?”

You don’t have to ask what he means. “I don’t stop them, I just keep them in here.” You tap your head. “And I think of before. About how it was.”

“That helps?”

“As long as I don’t let myself remember that it will never be like that again.” You can’t hide the pain the words give you.

“What was it like?”

“Before? It’s was normal,” you shrug. “Boring.”

He tilts his head at you. “Normal?”

“Normal,” you repeat, watching his face as you speak.

He frowns, and looks away. You notice him swallow heavily, glaring at the wall. “Like,” he swallows again. “Like what?”

“Well, I had parents. Siblings. I had friends, I worked, I went to school-“

“School?” He turns back to you. “You're an adult, did they make school fucking longer?”

You feel a small smile quirk your lip. “No, I was doing a postgraduate. I’d actually just finished. Technically, I’m a doctor.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“Of Anthropology, yeah. I know less about human medicine than WebMD.” You pause. "That’s like, a website that’s famous for giving bad medical advice. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“And you think you know less than it?”

“Oh, I know I know less than it.”

He snorted, returning to watch the wall. “That’s fuckin ironic.”

You nod in amusement. “Yep.”

When you don’t continue, he looks back once more. “What else?”

“I lived alone. Small, shitty studio on the Upper West Side. I visited my dad in Boston once a month-“

“Just your dad?”

“Yeah, my mom wasn’t dead, she’s just a bitch.” You hear Soldier Boy cough what might have been a laugh, but you ignore it. “She and my dad divorced when I was like, ten. They had joint custody, but I stopped talking to her when I was fifteen.”

“Harsh,” he mutters. “What, she ground you one too many times?”

You decided that holding back about thing like this was a need long gone. “She tried to send me to a medical boarding school in the Berkshires.”

“What the fuck is a ‘medical boarding school’”

“Like a psych ward where they teach you math.”

“Huh,” he raises his brows at you. “You need one?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I already knew math.”

He stares at you blankly, a smile having crept onto your face. “You’re… making a joke.” He said slowly.

“Yep,” you nudge his shoulder with your own. “That’s what a good one sounds like.”

He lets out a low laugh. “That wasn’t that fucking good.”

“You laughed.”

“You can’t fucking prove it.”

You’re grinning fully now. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, gramps.”

He rolls his eyes. “So your mom’s a bitch, you lived alone, and you can’t even cook. That’s just fucking sad.”

“New York is famous for its food,” you mutter. “And I can heat stuff up, as you very well know.”

“You can’t coast on box macaroni forever, Sunshine.”

“Been working fine for both of us so far.”

He gives you an amused look. “You’re not trying to seduce me.”

“What the fuck does that have to do-“

“You don’t have to impress me,” he continues, unfazed. “Your cooking doesn’t matter. What’d you do when you were hungry for dick?”

You stare at him. “You’re unbelievable.” He only returns your glare with a cocky grin.

“You haven’t seen nothing yet, Sunshine.” He winks, and you roll your eyes.

“Men aren’t big pussies about that stuff anymore,” you smile as his face drops at your claim. “And I never spent a lot of time being ‘hungry for dick’, anyways.”

“What, you have a loyal boyfriend?” he taunts.

“Nope,” you give him a grin. “But I had a sweet old lady in the apartment across the hall who brought me food every weekend. You’d have liked her, she was just your type.”

He grunts, but not with annoyance. “All I hear is no boyfriend, no friends, and can’t cook. Like I said, just fucking sad.”

“I had friends!” You protest. “We’d do karaoke every Friday!”

“You can sing?”

“Nobody who does karaoke can sing,” you dodge with ease. “But we had fun.”

He lets out a labored breath, and when he turns to you this time, you notice how bloodshot his eyes are.

“Would you go back?” He asked. He was watching you so carefully, and you once again are left confused by the look in his eyes.

“I don’t think I could.” You answer, your voice sounding far away, a memory of a gravestone flashing in your head. “I don’t think it would be fair to them.”

“Fair to them?” He gives a doubtful huff. “That’s fucking stupid.”

“Really?” You challenge. “I don’t think it’s stupid to not want to pull the people you love into this shitshow. I got a chance to keep them out of this life. Most people aren’t that lucky.”

Soldier Boy only shrugs. “Bad things will still fucking happen to them.”

“Bad things happen to everyone.” Your words are firm. “I’m making sure they don’t fucking die.”

“Well,” he turns back to the wall. “Aren’t they fucking lucky they have you.”

You know his words are meant to be cold and sarcastic, his face has even dropped into a scowl. But there was no sharpness behind them, and the rest of his face just looks… so tired. You hate it, it’s leaking into you and you’re not even touching him. You really, really want it to stop. So, you say the only thing that you can think of.

“Nobody taught me,” you say softly.

“What?” His red eyes give you a confused glance.

“I can’t cook because nobody taught me how. My mom didn’t care to, I don’t think it ever occurred to my dad, and eventually everyone just assumed that I could and I didn’t want to correct them. I turned into some sort of rage against the patriarchy shit in my head, but it’s a just life skill that I can’t do because nobody wanted to teach me.” You give him a sad smile. “I don’t think they felt as lucky to have me as you think.”

“So why’re you protecting them?” He asks, a puzzled frown on his face. “If those pussies didn’t fucking care about you, then they don't fucking deserve it.”

You shrug. “I know. But I’m going to keep doing it anyway.”

His eyes on yours have that look of dissection again, but it’s no longer violating, only prying carefully. You’re not sure how long passes before he speaks.

“It’s late,” he mutters. “You should sleep.”

You hesitate, but nod and stand. You move to the door, glancing back to see his still watching, alone on the bed. From here, he somehow looks more tired, the light making the circles around his eyes more prominent and the color on his face more washed out. You think it’s the most human you’ve ever seen him.

“Good night, Soldier Boy,” you say gently, and turn to leave.

You almost don’t hear his response.

“You don’t have to call me Soldier Boy,” the words are said under his breath, and when you turn, he has a soft frown. “Ben’s fine.”

You blink, and a small, unforced smile crosses your face. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ben.”

141 notes · View notes

piastrinorris · 2 years

Text

What Are Friends For?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Stranger Things (series), 18+ (MINORS DNI), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), masturbation (f receiving),

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: A late night post-Truth or Dare chat with your best friend has you admitting your own lack of experience, sexually. Thankfully, he's more than happy to tutor you.

A/N: finally got inspo for one of my wips! just another 12 to go 🙃

As Nancy and Robin work together to drag a near-catatonic Eddie out of Steve's living room, you nudge the party’s host’s foot with your own. “Alright, Harrington, truth or dare?”

He chuckles, “Seriously? Still? We’re the only two people left, right now.”

You shrug, “’M not ready to go home, yet. Unless you’re really willing to turf out your best friend onto the cold, dark streets of Indiana?” You look at him, doe-eyed, and he laughs again.

“Okay, fine, I’ll bite. Truth.”

“Who’d you lose your V-card with?” you ask plainly, and Steve, halfway through a sip of his drink, chokes on it.

“What the hell! Remind me who it was that insisted on the ‘nothing sexual’ rule when we started playing?” he sputters out.

You shrug, “Around the others, sure, but I’m curious. It’s like, the one thing we never talk about.”

Steve sighs in defeat. “It was… Tina Langdon. At that party on the last day of sophomore year. The one you wouldn’t go to.”

“Couldn’t,” you correct him, “I was ill, remember?”

He scoffs, “Please, you were fine all day, you can’t fool me, you just chickened out!”

“This isn’t about that,” you shake your head, feeling yourself get flustered.

Steve grins slowly. “Yeah, it is! I know you, you were getting some heavy hints from… Who was that guy, oh my god, this is gonna bug me…” He falters, rubbing his jaw in thought.

"Greg Patowski," you mutter.

"Greg Patowski," he repeats in a reminiscent tone, shaking his head and looking up as he waves his finger up and down. "Alright, 'fess up, your turn now. Who was yours?"

Your cheeks burn hot. "Steve!"

He grins wickedly at you. "C'mon, dishing out what you can't take? That's not like you! You started this!"

After a moment, you bashfully murmur, "It was… It - you just…" Steve still looks at you with anticipation, so you blurt out, "It was Greg, okay?!" He scoffs in disbelief. "He - it was that night, too, actually. He came over from the party to 'check on me', we made out on my bed, it… went further. He was in the room and out again within ten minutes," you admit with a scowl.

Steve's jaw drops in shock. "Are you serious?!" You nod. "Who el-"

"No! My turn to ask now." You take another moment to compose yourself before asking, "W-what's your favourite, like, part of it?"

"Sex?" he asks, and you nod. He blows a long breath out before eventually answering, "Probably the stuff before it. Like head, god. Giving it? Hell, yeah. Getting it? I swear, I don't care what else happens," he throws his head back and smiles wistfully.

Shuffling in your seat, you ask, "H-how did you know what to do?"

"Hm?" Steve asks, and you die a little internally as the thought of repeating yourself, though it seems as though he's heard you. "Oh, well, Tina was, as you know, the grade above us, so she was already more… Experienced, and that helped a lot. She pretty much told me where to go and what to do." He shrugs.

You're already nervous enough about having to explain yourself to him, when Robin and Nancy reappear at the doorway. "Hey," Nancy calls, making you jump. "Uh, we threw Eddie into one of the guest rooms. Rob and I are just gonna head home, now."

Steve frowns, "You carried him all the way upstairs? I could've done that for you!"

Robin glares at him from under her brow. "What, because two poor, defenceless young women couldn't handle it on their own?" She gives you a look which you silently translate and respond by punching Steve in the arm, which makes Robin laugh, "Nice. See you kids around!"

"Night!" Nancy calls after her before they both head out the front door.

Steve rubs his arm and pokes your shoulder. "So, Jumpy McPuncher."

"Good one," you deadpan, and he laughs.

"C'mon, spill. What's got you so worked up?"

"Well…" you start hesitantly. "You know I was telling you about the guy who's been kinda flirting with me at work?" Steve nods. "I was, uh, thinking of asking him out, but then I was thinking about the bigger picture, and how eventually that's gonna lead to - to, y’know, possibly sleeping with him, and I was wondering how to make it… Enjoyable, since I don't really know how to…" you falter through the end of your sentence, and Steve frowns.

"You've… Been with others since Greg, right?" You shake your head, and he looks at you incredulously. "What?! You've dated people since then!"

"Dated, sure, but I'd make up some shit about not being ready for a commitment before it got to that point," you admit quietly.

Steve nods slowly, with a thoughtful frown. "Okay. So… You wanna learn how to please a guy?" You nod bashfully and his nod quickens as he hops up onto the couch you'd been leaning against. "Alright."

You look at him in confusion. "W-what are you -?"

He takes some pillows off of the couch and hands them to you. "For your knees," he explains.

"Are you…?" You ask quietly.

"Offering myself as your test dummy? Sure, if it'll help you out," Steve's reply is so casual. "That is, of course, if you want, don't feel like you have t- oh, okay," he smirks as you tentatively unbutton his jeans.

You snap your hands back into your lap in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, did you want to do that?"

"No, no, if… If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, we really don't have to," he studies you with concern, but you shake your head.

"No, I… I want to. This is the best case scenario, right? I can learn, and not worry about disappointing - not that I don't care what you think, but like, you're you, you know?"

He smiles warmly. "Sure am, and you're you. And I'll guide you on what to do, but you gotta be confident with it, 'kay? Just get going with it, and don't take it personally if I tell you to do something a little different, alright?" You nod, and once again reach to undo his jeans. He shuffles them down to his thighs, and you can see a noticeable bulge in his underwear. "You wanna take it out, or me to, or not yet?"

"Can I…?" You clear your throat, remembering what he just said about confidence. "Can i just touch it over…?" You hold your hand to hover just over his crotch area and he smiles with a nod. The affirmation is oddly calming as you start palming him, and he hums out a soft moan.

"That feels nice," he muses. "Nice and gentle."

He keeps humming with delight as he watches you, and you notice something as you keep palming him. "You're getting hard, already."

"Doesn't take much, right?" he smirks. "Plus, you're doing so well, there."

"I, um… I know you're saying I should take things at my own pace, but I don't wanna take too long, should I take it out now?"

"Go for it," Steve mutters under his breath, still smiling.

You reach beneath the elastic of his underwear, take his shaft in your hand and move it out into view. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops when you see the size of it. "You, uh, you're much bigger than Greg Patowski."

He chuckles, "Good to know. Still wanna keep going?"

You nod, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah. So, what do I do from here?"

"Whatever you feel like doing," he shrugs. "You can use your lips and kiss it, or use your tongue and lick it, or you can get straight onto putting it on your mouth. I promise you, as long as it feels good for you, it's gonna feel good for me, too."

You study his member for a few seconds before tentatively licking along his length. He lets his head loll against the back of the couch. "Oh, god, yes. That feels so good. Mmm, and you look good doing it, too," he muses as he looks at you. You look up at him and chirp in questioning affirmation, and he bites his lip. "So good. You know, if you really wanna tease them, you can push your whole mouth against it without wrapping your lips arou- oh, fuck, just like that," he groans as you lean into your motions.

You sit back on your heels to frown, "But if I do that, there's still so much that I can't fit."

"So there is," he raises his eyebrows. "Why don't you try spitting into your hand and getting to work on the rest of it?"

After spitting into your palm, you smirk up at him. "Oh, you want me to get to work?"

He's about to give you an equally smug response when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and start working it. "Fuck, yes, there you go, just keep touching m- mmfff," he moans. "God, see? You're a natural."

Still stroking him, you experimentally run your tongue around his swollen mushroom tip, to which he grips the cushions next to him oh-so tightly. You finally wrap your lips around his member and sink down onto it as much as you can.

He moans so loudly that he brings the couch cushion up to his mouth to bite down on it. It makes you instinctively hum around his cock, which makes him squirm and whine more. You pull back again to look up at him in awe, and he asks, "What? Surprised that I'm moaning, or that you're able to make me?

"A little of both," you admit bashfully, and he sits back, spreading his legs further as he leans back.

"Well, when you're doing such a good job, of course I'm gonna," he smirks.

"S'pose I've got a good teacher, huh?" You raise your eyebrows as you jerk him off.

He shakes his head, "Can't take credit for that, baby, this has all been you. Though, if you want a little guidance, why don't you try sucking your cheeks in while you're down there?"

You happily take him back into your mouth, revelling in his moans as he encourages you. Every ounce of praise he gives you tingles that shoot to your core, and every instance of him calling you a good girl has you light-headed.

You try and sneak your hand between your thighs, but it doesn't go unnoticed. With a chuckle, Steve asks, "You good?"

You whine, "Y're not… Th'only one who's… Enjoying this."

His smug expression stretches into a full-blown grin. "Yeah? You wanna touch yourself? Go ahead."

"Is this good? The right thing to do?" You ask as you reach inside your panties, face melting with pleasure as you finally make contact with yourself.

"Fuck, yes, baby, you look so fucking hot down there, getting yourself off to - what is it, huh? You like the praise? The moans? Or do you just really like having my cock in your mouth?"

That's the real answer, right at the end. You've never especially wanted to get this intimate with anyone, not even that one flirty customer you'd thought about asking out, but now there's only one person you ever want to be thus close with.

But he's your best friend. He's doing this in the name of helping you overcome your anxieties, that's all. You can't jeopardise what you've got with him.

"All of it," you whimper out, briefly looking over to glance at his fingers to allow yourself to imagine them as you sink your own inside you, getting back to sucking him off, making sure you hollow your cheeks every now and again like he told you.

With his moans, you lose yourself in the moment of imagining him touching you that as you hook your fingers inside of you, you instinctively keel over, sinking yourself further down on his cock. Steve lets out a long, stuttered groan at that. "Fucking shit, baby, y'almost got me in whole, god, wanna fuck the rest of me into you, too." You whine around him and he tuts, "Don't think you're ready for that, yet. You're gonna gag, and I don-"

You push yourself even further down, trying desperately to ignore your gag reflex, and he throws his head back to moan, "Fuck, yes, good girl! Such a good girl, taking all of that fucking cock, and holding it there, all while touching yourself, fuck. You're so hot, y'know that? Oh, fuck, baby, you need to breathe, c'mon," he reminds you softly, pushing you away. "That's it, oh, look at all that drool," he simpers, wiping the spit from your chin.

"Do… Do people like that? Seeing all… This?" You gesture towards your face, and he shakes his head.

"Don't know, don't care, doesn't matter. I fucking love it," he groans as you wrap your hand around his shaft again, stroking him all the way from base to tip. "Oh, shit, you really are a fucking natural at getting me off, baby. You gonna get us both off at the same time, yeah?" You nod, and his face contorts with his impending climax. "Fuck, get that mouth back on me, I wanna feel your moans against my cock coax the cum right outta me."

Not needing to be told twice, you happily comply, making sure you try to moan around him as much as possible. He strains out another moan, gasping out, "Fuck, so… So proud of you, look at you. Taking me so well, looking so fucking good touching yourself. Such a good little student, 'm gonna teach you so much more. How a real man eats you out, how a real man fucks you, fuck, so much for you to learn. Y'want that, baby? Tell me. Tell me with my fucking cock in your mouth."

"Wan' y'to hh-fuck me, hh-so bad," you whine, not moving, and he groans.

"You're so fucking cute when you talk with your mouth full, baby. Aww, you gonna do it? You gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth of yours?" he groans, and you rub at your clit rapidly. "That's my good girl, fuck, look up at me with those eyes, so sweet, so sexy, while you get us both off, c'mon, baby, you can do it, atta girl."

The impending desperation in his tone mixed with his words finally sends you over the edge, moaning shrilly around his cock as you feel your orgasm press deeper than anything's ever felt before. You practically see spots as you squirt all over your fingers, trying desperately to stay focused on keeping Steve's cock in your mouth long enough to take all of his load, swallowing everything as he gives it to you.

He breathes deeply as he comes down from his high, smiling blissfully as he sits forward, cradling your face in his hands. His large, thick-fingered hands. He licks his lips to speak when the wet patch on the pillow you'd been sitting on distracts him. "Holy shit, did you squirt?!" You look up at him and shrug, and he strokes his thumbs against your cheeks. "From now on, I'm making that happen for you, 'kay?"

"So, you meant it? You'll keep teaching me?" You ask hopefully.

"In a ways," he shrugs. "I'll keep showing you what real pleasure feels like… But not for some… Guy who shows up at your work sometimes. Sure as shit not for some Greg Patowski type. I'm. Here to please, you. Got that?"

You nod, licking your lips, a hint of a smile tickling at you. "Real hung up on Greg still, huh?"

"Yeah, well, it should've been me," Steve admits. "I wanted to make my move that night, but then Patowski bounced early, and everyone was talking about how he was bragging about how he was gonna seal the deal with you. And so, my young and stupid self went and drowned my sorrows with Tina."

You chuckle softly. "You know, when I heard knocking at my window that night, I really hoped it would be you. Always dreamt of you sneaking in through my window and having your way with me. But I like this better."

"You do?" he asks, leaning closer.

"Yeah. You were right, about getting with someone with more experience." You shuffle yourself closer to him, further between his legs, letting go your arms rest around his hips. "'Cause now you've definitely ruined other men for me."

He grins, pulling you up and scooping you I to his lap before grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you fervently. "You wrecked me a long time ago, baby. Glad to see you're finally catching up."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

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iron-strangers · 5 months

Text

we will raise warriors

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Tags: Established Relationship, Mand’alor Din Djarin, PWP, Vaginal sex, Creampie

CW: Breeding Kink, No use of Y/N, Smut (MINORS DNI)

Length: 2.036 words

Read this on AO3: we will raise warriors

Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

“Happy love day!” You greet Din at the front door of your home by tackling him with a bear hug, armors and all, presenting a small gift, wrapped rather messily, with a huge, silly red bow on top. “Got you a little something, cyare!”

Din just walked into your home, a grand three-bedroom apartment-style room in the eastern wing of Keldabe Palace. I want to see the sunrise every morning, cyare, you had said when Din asked you to pick your family wing upon moving to the ancient, though newly renovated palace. Din had no preference. No actually, he’d prefer not to live in the old castle. He’d rather live in a house in the countryside, somewhere near a body of water, where he can enjoy nature with his family, away from the responsibility of being The Mand’alor. But anywhere is just as good if he has his beautiful riduur and their foundling with him, Din claimed.

You help your riduur to pull off his cape, hanging the long fabric on its stand near the door. Gone is the old and tattered one, replaced by a floor-length, crimson, soft fabric that more often than not got folded into a birikad for Grogu. You excitedly rush him towards the karyai, sitting him down on a couch and placing the gift in his hand. Not used to getting presents, Din eagerly removes his helmet before pulling the red ribbon off, revealing a small T-shaped metal in a transparent box. He stares at it with a puzzled look on his face before looking back up at you with his head tilted sideways.

“Is this, uh, a new bullet?”

”It is not a bullet, don't you dare to load it into your blaster,” You scold, snatching the box from your riduur's hand. “You remember how we’ve talked about trying for a baby? We’ve been planning it for a while, and then there was that time when we kinda, you know, get excited about it in the throne room?” Oh yeah, Din can’t forget that one, nuh-uh, top ten moment of his life. “So, here it is. This is an IUD, mine. It’s my birth control. I went to the healer this morning to take it out.”

Din stutters, his eyes wide open, looking back and forth at you and the IUD, so expressive behind his helmet, trying to process what he just heard. You smile at him patiently, your hands steady on his shoulder, rubbing tight circles with your thumbs, giving him some time to process the news. A few seconds later, the frown morphs into a smile, a huge grin now adorning his handsome face as he then pulls you to his lap and claims your lips in a flurry of hungry kisses. His hands come up to your jaw to cup your face, holding you ever-so-gently as he peppers your face with kisses, stealing giggles out of you.

“How soon can we start?” Din asks eagerly, beaming to you like a verd’ika who just got his first set of beskar’gam, holding you by your ass and lifting you both from the couch, ignoring your protests, holding tightly around his neck.

“Well, my healer said it might take a few weeks to purge the hormones outta my system, but she also said that anything can happen,” You shrug, absently playing with the tuft of hair reaching his neck, he needs a haircut, you duly noted. “Anyways, the elders are begging for us to start training heirs already, so how about you give us what we all want and fuck a baby into me, ner Mand'alor ?” You lean in to whisper playfully, lightly nibbling on his earlobe.

You watch with a smirk when Din is, once again, completely at a loss for words. His pupils are dark with desire and you can feel him starting to harden in his pants against the swell of your ass. Smirking, you grind down on his growing erection, earning a groan from him, always so easy to tease. “Dont start something you can't finish, Rid'ika,” He warns you, pressing your back against the bedroom wall.

“But we all know how much you want to,” you tease, trailing your hand down his beskar-covered chest all the way to the tenting length straining his flightsuit pants. “Want me all soft and pregnant, looking absolutely yours . Your riduur, your baby- Oh !”

Din throws you on the bed, ignoring your squeals. He immediately crawls on top of you and pins you down with a kiss. His hand sneaks down to pull your armors off one by one. He studies you thoroughly, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing his left vambrace that you have worn since your riduurok. He brushes your robes aside, sliding his hand down your belly, admiring your body for a moment. You take his gloves off, wanting to feel your riduur's blaster-calloused fingers on your skin. Your breath catches and the feeling of his hands on you makes you shudder. His middle finger slips beneath the panties and between your slick folds.

“So fucking wet for me, cyar’ika.” Din's lips are back on yours, swallowing your gasps as he circles your sensitive nub. You break the kiss with a sob when you feel Din gathering up your slick on his fingers and he nudges his thick fingers into your heat. You gasp as he slides his fingers deep, crooking his fingers into your sweet spot.

“Right there, Din,” you whine, throwing your head back onto the bed. Your riduur’s hand travels up, cupping your breast and rubbing the pad of his thumb over your pebbled nipple, pulling and pinching. He watches as you chew on your lower lip, trying to stave off your moans.

“Fuck mesh’la , I can’t wait until these are filled with milk. Aching and leaking all day long until I can milk you dry.” Din leans closer to you, rolling your nipple with his tongue. His mouth closes around you and he sucks hard while his other fingers are still leisurely pumping in and out of you, ignoring your pleas.

“Please what, cyar'ika? Where's that smart mouth now, hmm?”

“Please fuck me! Need you to come inside, fill me up with our verd’ika, please, ner alor- ah!”

Din swears hearing your needy whines, eager to give whatever his riduur's wants. He pulls his fingers out of you and taps your drenched folds with the tip of his cock. Din growls, he has denied himself for way too long, tucking his face in the crook of your neck he buries himself all the way into you in one thrust, knocking the breath out of you.

“Force, you fill me up so fucking good .” You moan, letting your head fall down the pillow and grabbing a fistful of the sheet as Din immediately pounds into you. Your walls flutter around his girth, struggling to take him.

Din burns with desire and his primal need to breed takes over. One rough snap of his hips makes you scream as the head of his cock nudges your sweet spot just right, severing the connection to your brain for a moment.

“You like that, cyar’ika?” He leans down, kissing your sweaty temples. You nod, trapped underneath your riduur, wailing and begging and taking everything Din is giving you. He claims your lips and kisses every plea from your mouth before he pulls back, indulging himself by staring down where his cock is buried inside of you. His length is wet and sticky with your arousal and his pre-cum, making him growl and pace himself harder, faster, rougher.

“I know how much you want it, rid'ika- fuck , look at you, made such a mess on my cock, mesh’la. You don’t want me to stop fucking this pussy until you’re all round and swollen with my ad’ika, huh?”

“Yes, please, Mand'alor, please fuck a baby into me, wanna make you a buir.”

“Manda - Soak my cock, mesh'la, c'mon, gonna get you all wet and pregnant.” he snarls, spitting filthy promises as he thrust harder. “That’s it, cyar’ika. Keep on squeezing me like that, sweet girl. Not gonna stop fucking this tight pussy until you're all nice and full with our verd'ika.”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes, Din, cyare,” you moan, rolling your hips greedily. “Wanna give you a baby, Din. Come inside me, please. Please give me your cum, oh, Force-”

Din can’t control himself any longer, he growls gutturally, his fingers digging into your hips as his pace grows sloppier and he shoots the first of his hot, heavy load deep inside of you, holding you hard against his front and rutting his hips as he pumps his seeds into your willing womb. The feeling of Din's seeds flooding your insides is overwhelming, your mind is whiting out, legs trembling and you’re cumming hard, milking the thick shaft, enticing him to pump more loads into you until it leaks down your thigh.

“Don't waste any drop now, cyar’ika.” Din hums, grinning and kissing on your jaw. Slowly he eases himself out of you and watches his cum dripping out of you. He tuts with dismay, gently fingering it back into your puffy cunt, then he gives you his fingers to suck clean.

You settle in his arms, making out with him lazily when he pulls away and smiles, his hand a comforting weight on your tummy. His smile gives you butterflies. Running your fingers up and down his forearm, you beam to him and he almost tips over with the weight of his love and adoration for you.

“I'm so excited,” you whisper softly, admiring the blissful look on your riduur’s face as he sounds his agreement and presses a tickling kiss on your nose. Din plays with your hair, brushing the strands sticking on your sweaty forehead back. “Mesh’la? I like the name Aranar,” Din thinks, and you beam at him, nodding and testing the name on your tongue.

The sun is setting, painting a beautiful glow on both his and your mismatched vambraces. There's a peaceful silence between you, the sound of his breathing evening out lulls you to sleep, almost swallowing you into a slumber when you remember something-

“Oh, I have another present for you, an actual present!”

Din tries to protest, claiming you’ve already given him the best present in the galaxy when you shush him, levitating an equally small box from the side table. You open the box, revealing two identical keys on a plush velvet. Din eyes you curiously, picking one key up.

“Remember that one house we saw near your covert?”

“The one with the big yard near the pond? Did you- No, cyar’ika!”

“It’s ours! No, listen to me,” you huff when your riduur tries to protest again. “We can’t live in the palace forever, Din. I won’t let you to. You don’t like it here, and therefore, neither do I. I figured we’d stay here until Mandalore is stable enough, or until we’ve reached about seventy percent of our rebuilding goal, then we’ll move out. We’ll get speeders to get here every morning, show our adi’ke around, then we’ll come home when the day is done, to a place where the Council of Alor can't steal you away from me. We can make it work, my love.”

Din stares at you adoringly with his big brown eyes, too overwhelmed with the weight of your love to honestly do or say anything other than holding you close and kissing you, caressing your jaw lovingly with each kisses, murmuring a soft thank you over and over again against your lips. “I’ve never- No one’s ever do this much for me,” he mumbles, holding your hand to his heart. “You don’t like it here too? Why don’t you tell me?”

“Oh cyare, you deserve the world and you gave so much for me and our foundling, so of couse I will try to give you a place we both can call home, where we can watch our aliit grows,” You lean into his touch, nuzzling his hand with your jaw, offering him a smile. “And no, I don’t like this place, the force ghosts of previous Mand’alors are creeping me the fuck out!”

“THE WHAT NOW?”

Mando'a translations

Karyai: main living room of a traditional mandalorian house

Riduur: Spouse

Birikad: Baby harness

Mand’alor: Ruler of mandalorians

Alor: Leader

Cyare / cyar’ika: beloved

Riduurok: Love bond / Marriage agreement

Mesh’la: Beautiful

Verd’ika: Little warrior

Aranar: Defend

#expanding clan mudhorn #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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wickedscribbles · 27 days

Text

if i get too loud you can shut my mouth ch. 4 (final)

Masterlist Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3 The Poolverine Playlist Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: misunderstandings, aftercare, mental health issues, fluff, chronic pain

Word Count: 1.4K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated. The final chapter! Thanks for sticking with me. This was an absolute BLAST to write and I so appreciate every like, comment, and reblog. ❤️

The little ugly ass dog is lying curled up right next to the bedroom door when Logan steps out. As soon as she sees him, she gets to her feet, tail wagging furiously.

“Yeah, hi, baby,” he says to her. “Hi. I see you.”

Dogpool – Mary Puppins – whatever the hell her name is – snorts and wheezes like he just told her she’s the best dog alive and he’ll never pet another dog again. (Not likely – she feels like a dead man’s ballsack.)

Shaking his head a little, he steps across the hall to the bathroom. After a brief search and an unnerving encounter with a gallon jug labeled daddy’s XTRA big lube jar (for all kinds of tight spots!!), Logan makes his way back into the bedroom with what he’d been after: a wet washcloth to clean them both up.

Wade is there where he’d left him, curled up in a tight ball, strangely quiet and motionless.

Something about that strikes him with instant dread, anxiety that he can’t put a name on. It doesn’t feel right to see him so still. This is the man who drives him up the fucking wall, who won’t shut up, who needs to have the last word, who needs to keep moving.

What happened?

“Hey,” he says softly, perching on the edge of the now-unstable mattress. “You, uh, want to get some of that off?”

His inner thighs are sticky and drying with come. Logan’s covered, too, and desperate for a shower, but he’s never just left anyone a mess after sex. This is a part of it.

Wade’s eyes flit to him, coming back to life with more of that coherence and energy that Logan recognizes. After a beat, his mouth pulls back into a grin. It doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Oh,” he laughs a little. “Ha. Yeah. Shit, yeah, sure, thanks.”

He reaches out for the washcloth, a little too quickly, the eye contact not quite there.

Logan is beginning to realize that he might have fucked up.

It’s been so long since he’s gone through the ritual of sex that he forgot to be delicate where it mattered the most. And with this being their first time, he could have just fucking said be right back. He’s an idiot, isn’t he? He’s a fucking idiot.

The white hot anger at himself springs up in Logan in just seconds, and pushing it down is so, so hard. He has to remind himself to breathe, breathe, to not let everything go to shit in his mind the way it so often tends to.

Remember what Charles used to say.

There’s a time and a place for everything. You are a good man who has had the curse of a bad life. Don’t let it define what you do. McDonald’s is shit and Nando’s will always be better, I don’t care what you say, Hank.

God, he misses that man.

Okay. He’s fine. This is fine. Logan doesn’t have to run away from this or destroy it. He can stay right here with Wade and talk through it, though his stomach is twisting itself into devastating knots and he feels like he needs a drink more than he needs air pulled through his lungs.

Logan places his hand over Wade’s. Water droplets fall between them from the washcloth onto the sheets, loud in the quiet.

“I can do that for you,” he says. “I – I want to.”

Wade blinks, and a few miniscule changes happen at once. First, Logan hears his heartbeat pick up. Next, blood rushes to his scarred face. An anomaly; Logan's never seen him blush. The satisfaction that comes with seeing it now wars with the rising feeling of affection for the man – that Logan could be the one to make such a rare thing happen.

Last, the scent that he’s always associated with Wade shifts ever so slightly. The smallest change. If Logan weren’t so close, or if they hadn’t just spent the last hour or so being about as personal as you can get, he probably wouldn’t have picked it up. Nonetheless, something is new. Sweeter.

“Sheesh,” Wade replies. “We just keep learning more about each other, don’t we, princess? Age gap, caretaker kink, how will they keep up with the tags you keep throwing at them?”

There he is – back online. Spouting nonsense and all. It’s a relief, to say the least; even if Logan has no clue what the fuck he’s talking about.

“Is that your way of saying I can clean you up?” Logan says dryly.

“Sure, sure. Whatever gets you hard, cupcake.”

Logan rolls his eyes as Wade wriggles back a little, spreading his legs. He spreads the washcloth over the other man’s skin in gentle up and down motions, pleased when he feels the stickiness breaking down. Nothing a shower can’t do better, and that’s likely where they’ll both end up soon anyway. But he likes touching base like this. Like a wordless way of telling the other person that this was important – they matter.

Saying something sweet doesn’t always come easy to him. Little actions like this do.

He lets his hands stop when the rag’s done all the work it really can.

“What now?”

Wade’s voice is a little gentler than he’s used to hearing it. A little younger.

Logan swallows past the fear and nerves, trying to recall the voices of all the people who have tried to cheer him on in the past few months as he’d hesitated and stayed away from this for so long.

Vanessa. Logan, sweetie. He wants you so bad. Let yourself want it back.

Al. Swear to God, if you two don’t get together soon. Y’all are grown men. I’m gonna be dead and in the ground before you get any dick.

Laura. If you like him, just say something. It’s hard, but not as hard as spending the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you had just grown a pair.

They’re all right. He takes a deep breath.

“I was thinking we shower, sleep in, get breakfast.” Logan ticks each item off on his fingers. “And see where we go from there.”

Wade’s face lights up from the inside out, that real bonfire grin. Logan’s breath catches somewhere in his throat before he’s inevitably smiling back, leaning his forehead in to bump the crook of Wade’s knee.

“Yeah. Sounds like a solid plan, chief.”

After the relief of a long, hot shower, they drift back to bed. Clean and sleepy, with Mary Puppins at their heels, they arrange themselves in the blankets.

Though they start facing one another, there’s the problematic adjustment of limbs, and Logan ends up with his back to Wade. There’s only a second’s hesitation before he feels the other man wrap his arms around his waist, and Logan would almost be embarrassed at how quickly he shifts to wriggle back into the embrace if it weren’t for everything they’d just done with one another. Being held feels too good to even pretend to be stoic about it.

Wade chuckles quietly near his ear, but doesn’t remark on it.

For once, his mind isn’t racing. He’s mostly comfortable. Of course, Logan’s almost always in pain – the dull ache of a long life will leave you suffering, whether the pain screams or whispers depends on the day – but this isn’t bad. Wade’s touching him in a gentle, soothing way, almost mimicking how Logan had cleaned him earlier. Up, down. Up, down. His eyelids are so heavy.

He’s almost asleep when he hears one last thing.

“What?” Logan’s eyes aren’t even open, his voice muffled into the blankets.

“I said, you owe me 24.99 for the robe, by the way. Not counting sales tax, because I’m growing fond of you.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Logan can feel Wade’s body shake with laughter.

“35.99 for the sheets. I know, I know, that’s on the pricey side – but they’re cotton and you know my ass needs luxury.”

Still unmoving, Logan scowls. “I am not replacing your damn sheets. Get the stain out or live with it, diva. Do you think I’m made of money?”

“What about the cost of labor?” Wade presses, clearly beside himself with how entertaining this has become.

“You’re about to cost me my sanity. Go to sleep.”

They did. It was the start of a mutually kinky, violent, beautiful relationship.

#wickedscribbles #wickedscribbles ao3 #if i get too loud you can shut my mouth ao3 #deadpool x wolverine #deadpool x wolverine ao3 #deadpool 3 fanfic #deadpool x wolverine fic #poolverine #deadpool x wolverine smut #poolverine smut #deadclaws #logan howlett x wade wilson #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool fic #wolverine fic

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minkdelovely · 6 months

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love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter three “is this the life that lies ahead now?”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: drinking on an empty stomach (do not attempt in real life, but this is hell baby), allusions to poisoning, reader is hungover and has a poor appetite, uh oh art thou pining?, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 2.8k

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

After getting some water you tried falling back asleep to no avail, tossing and turning for at least an hour before deciding to call it quits.

Leaving the hotel in the middle of the night wasn’t the best idea, but you felt like you’d start tearing at the wallpaper if you stayed in your room. Cliche as it was, fresh air had always helped you relax while you were living. You thought back to the family garden and sighed. You’d give anything to be able to sit there now.

Your thoughts drifted to your father as you changed out of your pajamas. Things had changed so much in your day-to-day after coming to the hotel that you realized you couldn’t remember the last time he had crossed your mind. You felt a tightness in your throat when you tried to remember what he looked like. It was hazy, but he was mostly there; strong with a brilliant smile. How long would it be before you couldn’t remember him at all? Even the way you heard his voice in your mind didn’t seem completely right, an imitation of a memory.

Was he doing okay? Was he still mourning you? Or did he think you were just missing? Did the money go through? Did he know what you did for him to get it? There was no way to know.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jumped at the sound of Husker’s voice, so lost in thought and determined to get out of there that you hadn’t noticed him at the bar. It wasn’t surprising that he was still down here, though, being just before midnight. In fact, the real surprise was that he was here by himself. You decided to put leaving on pause and made your way over to him, taking advantage of the rare moment of privacy. Besides, what good would it do to dismiss Husker when he had been so discreet about this morning?

“More like slept too much,” you said, sighing as you took a seat across from him.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Husk jabbed amiably, turning to grab an empty glass.

You groaned. “Well there goes my hope of looking better than I feel. I was thinking maybe a walk would help, but—” Husk gave you a look, rightly making you feel sheepish.

“Didn’t go so hot this morning, huh? Thought you’d have better luck at night?” he said, half-joking, and passed you an amber-colored drink. The worry must’ve been showing on your face, as he cooly added, “Don’t worry, it’s been a ghost town in here for over an hour. It’s still only me and Angel who know about what happened.”

“Is he at work right now?” you asked, relaxing a little and took a casual look around. “I really don’t know how I can make it up to you both. This morning I…,” you sighed again and ran a hand through your hair, feeling the exhaustion seep back in. “I don’t know. Hopefully I’ll just forget about it, or convince myself it was a nightmare or something. But I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

You recalled your reflection in the mirror before you showered, unrecognizable to yourself under the layer of gore caked to your skin.

Husk waved his hand, but the softness in his eyes felt like a rock in your stomach. “Don’t worry about it, we’ve both seen crazier shit in our time. But yeah, he’s been gone for most of the day. Said Valentino was having an ‘emergency’ but I have my doubts. He’s always pulling Angel in for dumb shit.”

You nodded and finally took a sip of your drink, shocked by how much you enjoyed it. A pleasant bitter taste lingered in your mouth, and you had to actively fight the urge to chug down the rest of it.

“Valentino’s his boss, right? Alastor’s done a pretty good job of keeping me preoccupied, but I think I’ve heard you guys talking about him before.”

“That’s the simplest thing to call him, I guess, though I prefer to call him an asshole,” Husk grumbled and you both shared a small laugh, the alcohol already making you feel lighter.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, Husk refilling your glass as you rested your head in your hand, gazing through the windows to the city below. Would you be able to pinpoint the alley if you concentrated hard enough? Someone had to have stumbled on him by now, right? Like his little sidekick… Did he ever go back for Donny? Something else clicked into place as you thought of him and the events of the morning: unless someone came after you for retribution, you would get away with it. That’s just how life is here.

No missing person report, no investigation, no forensics, no trial, no jail sentence. Weren’t you already “doing time” by being here? It’s not like you could add on to it. Not that you intended to do it again, but it was a step in the right direction of making peace with yourself. Maybe you really would forget about it someday, maybe not. There were some things that stuck with you forever.

The image of your grandmother came to you then, the last time you had spoken with her. She was sitting in her favorite chair near the fireplace in the library, her face set in the ever-present scowl you resented so much. She really was such a miserable creature. You saw yourself place the tray of tea and almond shortbread cookies down on the dark-lacquered, antique coffee table between you, knowing it would the last thing she ever ate. And tried to fight the smile pulling at your lips.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“It occurred to me in the night that you still owe me something from the butcher,” Alastor said casually, his face buried in the newspaper. Irritation shot through you quick as lightning, but you prevailed against the urge to dump the coffee you were bringing him all over his lap.

As the grandfather clock in Alastor’s room chimed the hour, the pulse in your head threatened to kill. Apparently hangovers were very real in Hell (because of course they were), and this one was a doozy. Husk had only given you three drinks, but since you had wrung yourself so dry it was enough to leave you feeling like absolute shit. Beyond some water, the only thing you managed to ingest so far this morning was a piece of plain, burnt toast to try and soothe your aching stomach. It had taken all you had to keep it down. Needless to say, you weren’t starting the day in the best of moods.

Not that you ever thought Alastor would take it easy on you anyway. The look he gave you when you showed up in your new dress was so self-satisfied that it made you want to crawl under a rock. And when he said that you looked like death warmed over, you wanted to use said rock to knock his teeth in. It was the first you had seen of him since the incident in your room yesterday, though you tried not to dwell on the fact that he had returned at some point while you were asleep. In the grand scheme of his behavior you’ve been exposed to, that was really the least of your worries.

Through the veil of annoyance you found yourself looking at the mug in his grasp, remembering the strength of his hand holding your chin. Your breath shallowed as he brought the rim up to his lips. Fuck. Tearing your eyes away, you did your best to swallow the lump in your throat. This couldn’t be happening.

He was just toying with you yesterday. Nothing new, you told yourself. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes how much he enjoys feeling superior. Not that you had ever seen him pull a stunt like that on anyone else, but who knows? It’s not like you were with him every second of the day. Even in this very moment, he was messing with you.

Was it your fault that he had only grabbed his clothes off the filthy floor of that alley and left the other bag to rot? Of course he’d see it that way, and if your headache wasn’t as terrible as it was, you might have told him exactly that. Especially considering that you were already out money for the liver, and he was more than likely expecting you to pay again.

“I’ll head out after I’ve finished with your room, unless you’d prefer I go now and clean when I get back,” you answered smoothly, hoping he’d give you permission for the latter. How he had even managed to track in the dirt you saw on the area rug was a mystery. You just knew that it would keep you busy for a decent amount of time and you weren’t looking forward to more scrubbing on your hands and knees. “And if the clothes are ready to be picked up again, I can get those, too.”

Alastor peered over the newspaper, eyebrow raised, his eyes and smile alight with mischief. “My, someone’s eager to be in my good graces today! No need to bother with the laundry, but I hope you won’t mind if I join you going into town. I don’t feel like staying cooped up in the hotel. Go ahead and clean now, I’d hate for those stains on the rug to set. Besides, you know how I despise coming home to a mess.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

While he waited for you to return after freshening up, Alastor took a look around his room, admiring the results of your hard work. You were turning out to be much more resilient than he had anticipated. Though your expression was hardly ever enthusiastic, you’d never be able to tell by the way you cleaned. Someone taught you well, he thought to himself, breathing in the scent of cleaning products that nearly overpowered the floral almond you always left behind. So pleasant.

Though if he was being honest, he was starting to run out of ideas on how to keep you busy. He would mess up the bed, despite rarely sleeping in it, and leave his housecoat, shirts, and bowties draped over various pieces of furniture for you to pick up and put in their proper place. The mud and dirt on the rug had been a last-minute stroke of genius, but it wasn’t something he cared to repeat too often. God forbid he became predictable.

There was part of his room you didn’t have access to, and Alastor doubted that he’d ever let you see it — nor anyone else, for that matter. It’s not like it was a space you’d be able to clean in a traditional sense, anyway. After the hotel was rebuilt he thought it would be a nice idea to separate his serene bayou from the rest of the living quarters. Remembering how Vaggie had so rudely barged in on him in the past, it wasn’t something he was keen on happening again. And it was comical to watch you glancing at the locked door, pondering what could be behind it.

He knew he couldn’t keep you cooped up as his personal chambermaid forever though, unless he wanted to be hounded by Charlie and Vaggie about it. Which he decidedly did not want. And he could admit that this cleaning game was getting stale… How could he switch things up before he tired of you completely? How could he get you to show him another spectacle like yesterday?

A knock at the door snapped The Radio Demon out of his thoughts.

“Alastor? Can I come in?” Charlie said from the other side of the door. By the tone in her voice, he could tell she was here to discuss business. He sighed quietly to himself and went to the door, swinging it open with a charming smile.

“Why of course, my dear! How may I be of service?” Alastor closed the door behind them and led her to one of the chairs by the fireplace, taking the one opposite her and crossed his legs, neatly folding his hands over one knee. “It’s just the two of us. Sylvie left to go spruce up before we head into town,” he said, noting how Charlie was glancing around the room.

“Oh, good!” she sighed, putting her hand over her chest in relief. “That’s, um, kind of what I came here to talk to you about. I know you’ve been…,” she paused, hands dancing as she searched for the right word, “…acclimating her to working here — and I don’t want to step on your toes — but I think it would be really nice if she could join in on daily activities. No one has really gotten a chance to get to know her yet, and I’d hate for her to keep missing out on opportunities to bond with everyone.”

He had jinxed himself, but at least it was only the princess he had to deal with.

What to do? It’s not like he could say that your cleaning skills needed improvement when evidence to the contrary surrounded them; the room was pristine. He could argue that it would be prudent to keep some level of permanent staff unless they wanted to be in a never-ending state of training new hires, but something told him that wouldn’t be the best approach. At least not for now. Alastor had no intention of letting any souls under his contract be taken from him, for redemption or otherwise. Still, seeing the others develop their relationships with each other had been fun to observe. How would little Sylvie fit into the dynamic?

“I suppose I’ve been a bit selfish with her, haven’t I? I’ll be sure to leave room in her schedule starting tomorrow, but I hope you’ll understand that mornings are sacrosanct,” Alastor said agreeably, straightening his coat as he stood up from the chair. “Unless there was anything else, I’ll go and tell her the good news.”

Charlie followed suit, grin wide and eyes sparkling as they made their way back to the door. “Of course! Oh, thank you Alastor, you have no idea how excited I am!” It was impossible not to. Her enthusiasm was nearly contagious. “Vaggie and I are thinking something up right now as a surprise for everyone, but the details haven’t been totally worked out yet. I’ll let you know as soon as possible though — gah! I can’t wait for tomorrow!”

Alastor merely smiled in response and they parted ways in the hall. He wasn’t thrilled to be losing his monopoly on you so soon, but knowing that he now had to be more intentional with his time was invigorating. Curious to see how you’ll react to being invited to group activities, he made his way to your room, already hard at work thinking of new ways to push your buttons.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You were surprised to see Alastor in the hall when you opened your door, since you had been instructed to return to his room when you were finished touching up. The quick jump-scare he caused sent a fresh wave of throbbing to your head and you hissed under your breath, unable to stop yourself from massaging your temple.

“You’re up to something,” you grumbled, walking past him to make your way to the elevators.

He feigned offense, easily stepping into stride with you down the hall. “Chivalry is lost on you twenty-first-century souls! I don’t know why I bother.”

You glared at him from the corner of your eye, taking in the sardonic look on his face as you stepped into the elevator. It was best not to push your luck with him, considering you still had an entire outing in Cannibal Town to get through. You were about to say something when the elevator stopped after going down a couple floors, the doors opening to Angel Dust. He looked exhausted.

When the two of you made eye contact, he glanced away, the air in the elevator quickly turning nervous as he walked in. Was it because of yesterday? Maybe Angel hadn’t been as comfortable with it as Husk made it seem… Suddenly he hit a button, stopping the elevator in its tracks. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, steeling himself.

“Hey, so… you know how you came home lookin’ like fuckin’ Carrie yesterday?”

You felt Alastor’s static humming in the space between you; the first reaction he’s had since Angel came into the elevator.

“I wanted to apologize sooner but—”

Angel waved his hands, cutting you off. “No, no, please, you don’t have to,” he said, a small laugh escaping him. “Look, uh… I’m only bringin’ it up cuz I just gotta know.” He was actively fighting a smile as he continued, “The trouble you ran into? His name wasn’t Donny, was it?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #slow burn #song fic #if i can’t have love i want power #love and power #x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin hotel slow burn

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ropes3amthoughts · 2 months

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Honestly o can’t remember what pictures of him I’ve release used or not I feel so tired and he is on my mind but I can’t really think of wha say he was making me think of soup earlier bu I don’t remember why. I like soup n I like him he’s like a soup to me I would stir him and drink him and it would make my stomach warm yummy soup lol the way I fropped it kinda looks like he’s saying it

MissRyoko Kui please give him lips more. And if you’re afannartist please give him arm hair I love him with an hair also don’t forget lips I said to Miss Ryoko Kui but that is fo revenue home pleas pretty lips + hot arm hair combo Kabru with nice lips and arm hair lease if anyone can hear me pleaseeeeeeee

Wow cool board dude I like your ideas so smart what you thinking wow what an interesting critter you’re Like a bug in my hands think he’ neat the way he uses not only others but himself as a tiool like he thought he was gonna die throwing himself down with Mrirbhj but he did uh anyways because he has jab jn Laios would sighs Ruben ring things and it’s a thing to harpy omelet and allllkk that Kabruhe sjdjfoqkss in orhers and uses himself ass way did dhnelh there

Lover the faces he makes. Why you so face. Cute face. He’s so stupid looking and so incredibly ethereal wowwww gorgeous what a guy love him 0 stars out of 10 housewife skips he couldn’t be the wife or the house but Rhys ok I’ll be both he can just sit pretty he’s good at beinf pretty good job stipid fafe and love in his jacket line him

Lol you have blood on youe face and hands I’ll lick it off for you what wo said that yay as crazy who said that he’s like painting on a walk I em new kikenyhey wouldn’t winter him he’s cute awesome sauce he feed me that would be nice I clung take care of him too Illl remind Hom ear and stuff and o can take care of him sweet tender care of him. I could comb his hair and kiss him on the forehead. And I cult make him meals and tell him loveeeeee you and all of that k think he’s so neat holy him like sogtvhentkd there tgeee can’t think he art to n’t. Vimk I’m gukkubb askrrogjjfnrf j was saving he klutz chutych. Ray hi Mr svtvju Kim dash tngbbbbghr bee j ding remember what I was Saturn anymore but I like him dearly what a guy

Owww my head hurts in the middle it’s so hard to think back of my skull n rn e middle it hurts but death ut Kabru today in the Cas I was with my mom and she was driving and she was like what do you want to do with your life and I was spacing out abidKavey and she like startled me if if it lmao a Kabru only thing on my mind I’m so sleep I’m gonna pass out iwgh Kabru on h mind bling Ough. Glad

Tumblr has all my tags s Ed ENA due I would not be able j rhis them again h wow mh eyes are flutter in snug ghee is hj my dreams

Wild say much more about him but there’s black in my corners of my eyes creeping in on my vision and j feel like I’m gonna pass out actually nvm I’m chill now I’m all good I love Kabru it’s raining rn cool noises Kabru clips cool love him hol lightning wow lightning like the cooo oh wow hidiesns the black in mh eyes vyekkunb ok ye good use I will mark ostcs of him Kabru 👍 fmhekk yeah

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi #kabru #kabru dungeon meshi #kabru of utaya #rope/spider post #late night post #kabru posting

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runninriot · 4 months

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inspired by the song Solitude by Black Sabbath, written for @steddiesongfics june song fics

Memories I Have Remind Me Of You

wc: 1999 | rated: T | tags: modern au, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, marriage proposal, dealing with heartbreak and regrets, Steve needs a little push from a stranger to make it right, sad but with a happy ending

The girl is nice. She’s pretty. Big eyes, plush lips, a kind smile, dimples.

Fucking dimples.

Her hair’s long and curly, doesn’t remind Steve of anyone in particular.

It doesn’t.

He does not think about someone else when the warm colour of her brown irises makes him remember.

Steve tries to listen when she talks, tries to laugh when she giggles sweetly, tries not to jerk away when she brushes his hand in a flirty manner but it’s hard to focus when his mind isn’t where it should be.

Did she just ask him a question?

“You didn’t even listen, huh?”

Steve shakes his head, looks back up at her, tries for an apologetic smile but to his confusion, she doesn’t even seem mad at him for not paying attention.

No, it’s worse.

She’s got that empathic, knowing look in her eyes. Like she can see right through him.

You’re so easy to read, baby.

He was never good at pretending.

“I’m not boring you, am I.”

It’s not really a question. The girl knows she’s a good catch, knows she isn’t the problem – Steve is.

“No, uh. Sorry, I-“

Who is he even trying to fool? No excuse he’s trying to come up with would be good enough because if he looks how he feels, it must be written all over his face. No way to hide the obvious.

I can see it in your eyes, baby. Your eyes always tell the truth.

Steve should’ve known it was a bad idea the moment he saw her picture, noticed the similarities. She instantly reminded him of-

He shouldn’t have agreed to this date.

Not because he doesn’t like her, no. She’s perfect, really. Or she would be.

They matched on a dating app, texted a bit back an forth. She was fun to talk to, made him laugh. And when she asked him if he wanted to meet, he thought that maybe it would help. That maybe this was his sign to finally get his ass back out there. He’d been holed up at home for too long. Sulking, sad, depressed.

Life just hasn’t been the same ever since.

His favourite meal has lost its taste. His favourite songs all sound off-key. Going to his favourite bar just seems like a waste of time - Steve’s life has lost its light, making everything seem dark and grey and dull.

Nothing is right anymore because everything reminds him of Eddie.

And Steve himself is the one to blame for his misery.

“I-“ Steve hesitates. He doesn’t want to bother her with his mess, didn’t come here to whine about things he can’t change. She didn’t come here to listen to him talk about his goddamn ex for fuck’s sake!

“What’s wrong?” she asks and Steve knows there’s no point in trying to pretend that everything’s fine when nothing ever is. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry for being such bad company,” Steve apologises and means it. She deserves better, could’ve gone on a date with someone worth spending her time with.

Someone actually interested in... something. Anything. Whatever it is she’s looking for.

Steve’s not it, that much is clear.

He’s not ready to move on. Maybe he never will be. Because what he had was all he ever wanted, all he ever needed to be happy. Life was good, perfect, before he ruined it all. Let the love of his life slip away because he was too afraid of the what ifs. So he pushed and he fought and he hurt the one that would’ve given him everything.

Now, Steve is just an empty shell of the man he used to be. Because the day Eddie left, he took Steve’s heart and soul with him, left him empty and broken and sad.

So fucking sad.

“You remind me of my ex.” The words are out before he can swallow them back down.

“Oh,” she answers, expression neutral. “Bad break-up?”

Steve nods. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to think about the day his whole life fell apart but-

“It was my fault. He left me because I fucked it up.”

The truth still hurts, even after all those months.

“What did you do?”

Steve and Eddie had met through a mutual friend, Dustin. It wasn’t quite love at first sight but close to it.

They quickly became friends, started hanging out on weekends, then, soon, even during the week. Spending the evenings after work at each other’s places, cooking dinner together, watching movies, talking.

Steve had never felt so drawn to another person, had never felt so comfortable in someone else’s presence. Eddie was... he was funny, kind, loud and wild. He had all these big dreams about what he wanted to do with his life. Dreams that were so very different from the small-town life Steve had always resigned himself to. Eddie wanted to travel the country, sleep under the stars, wake up next to a lake, follow the wind to wherever it would take him.

He wanted to be free.

But he stayed.

Eddie stayed because when they shared their first kiss in a weak moment of alcohol-fuelled recklessness, they ignited a fire that became too big too fast, making it impossible to smother the flames before they turned into burning desire that took a hold of them both. Scorching its way into their hearts where it settled, warm and bright, making light in every dark corner of their being.

It was the second first kiss that sealed their fate – a sober, slow, and tentative kiss in the low light of the morning sun that wiped away any worries and doubts Steve had when he woke up in Eddie’s arms after a night spent giving into their unspoken feelings as they took each other apart, not thinking about the consequences.

Knowing what it was like to wake up next to each other made it impossible to go back to simply being friends, to stay apart, to not fall in love.

Eddie and Steve were meant to be.

Together, everything felt right.

Eddie willingly put his own dreams aside for Steve who knew he could never repay him for the sacrifices he made just to be with him, tried to thank him every day by showing and telling him how much he loved him. And things were good, perfect.

Until-

“I don’t understand,” she says quietly when Steve takes a moment to breathe away the ache in his heart and the tears threatening to spill, “that sounds like a dream come true. What happened?”

Steve smiles sadly, sighs.

“Yeah, felt like a dream, too. But the thing with dreams is that no matter how beautiful they are, inevitably you will wake up.”

And a beautiful dream it was. Life was full of love and laughter and happy moments spent together, until Eddie proposed and Steve said No and the world tumbled down.

Because it was in that moment – with Eddie down on one knee, the simple gold ring Steve knew had belonged to Eddie’s uncle held between his thumb and finger as an offer, a promise to be his forever – that Steve realised he couldn’t do this to him. He couldn’t marry Eddie and keep him trapped in a life he never wanted just because Steve was too scared of giving up the safety of his home for a life on the road with no destination ahead and an unforeseeable future.

Steve said no to set him free but even then Eddie kept fighting for him, fucking apologised for putting ‘so much pressure’ on Steve with his question which- was insane because Eddie had done nothing wrong, ever. He had never been anything but wonderful and considerate and perfect. Steve had been the one not willing to compromise, who inadvertently put Eddie in a cage of his own making.

So he pushed and he fought and he hurt Eddie in order to give him back his freedom, thinking, believing he was doing the right thing. It was only when Eddie packed his bags and left that Steve realised he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

The moment Eddie walked out the door without looking back, Steve knew he had lost everything.

“Where is he now?”

“Hm?”

“Eddie. Where did he go?”

“I, uh...” Steve shouldn’t know the answer to this but he does. Because Dustin told him. Tells him whenever he gets a call or another letter from Eddie, ignoring the fact that it tears Steve apart every time. Or maybe he does it on purpose, punishing Steve for hurting his friend. And Steve lets him, never complains, always holds back his tears until he’s back in his fortress of solitude, where he can drown in his pain and sorrow.

He deserves to suffer for what he did.

“He’s in Michigan.”

“Huh.” She cocks her head, smiles. “It’s been what, 5 months you said? Pretty sure he could’ve gotten a lot further by now.”

“What do you mean?”

“For someone who’s always wanted to travel the whole damn country, he didn’t make it that far.”

“Eddie never made plans on where he wanted to go. Maybe he found a nice place to stay for a while before he lets his heart take him somewhere else.”

“Staying conveniently close for no reason whatsoever. Got it,” she scoffs.

Steve looks at her with pleading eyes, needs her to stop giving him ideas, can’t allow himself to let hope bloom.

“He’s free to go wherever he wants.”

“Maybe what Eddie really wants is for you to tell him to come home.”

Her words hit him hard like a slap across the face, ringing loudly in his ears.

“What if- What if he doesn’t?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

-------

“You left me.”

It’s not meant as an accusation, sounds like one though. And Steve can see in the way Eddie furrows his brows and tightens his lips, that it wasn’t the right thing to say.

“You told me to.” Eddie’s answer is short but calm, not filled with anger like Steve expected.

“I wanted you to stay!”

He knows it isn’t fair because Steve did tell him to leave. What right does he have to want him back, to ask for forgiveness?

“I didn’t want you to leave but I was scared that you’d wake up one day and realise that being with me isn’t enough. That being in love isn’t worth giving up your dreams. You shouldn’t have to give up your dreams for me! I should’ve gone with you. I love you. I-”

Steve is crying, can’t stop shaking. He’s so angry at himself, feels so powerless and stupid. And Eddie just stands there and stares at him confused like he doesn’t know that Steve would do everything for a second chance.

Just when Steve is about to give up, turns to go because if he stays here any longer, he’ll fall to his knees and make an even bigger fool of himself than he already has, two strong arms wrap around him from behind, keeping him from walking away.

“Don’t go,” Eddie whispers into his hair, tightens his grip to emphasise his words. “Stay.”

It’s what Steve should’ve said all those months ago, when he said the opposite instead.

Slowly, Steve turns within the arms holding him until he’s facing Eddie again. Eddie, who is so close now, Steve could bring their lips together by only moving in another inch or two. Could kiss away the tears running down Eddie’s cheeks.

“I can’t live without you, Eddie.”

“Then let me be with you.”

Their third first kiss is an angry one, rough and desperate. Full of regrets they swallow from each other’s lips, drinking them up to make them go away. To make it better. To make it right.

“Marry me, Steve.”

The answer comes easy this time - one word, a promise.

Forever, never apart, wherever it'll take them.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddiesongfics #writing prompt

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harrywavycurly · 11 months

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Trouble Next Door Part 25: We’re Gonna Be Fine

Masterlist: here

TW: Mentions of cheating and divorce

Tag List: @sinczir @rach5ive @bruher @kellyxo1 @tiannamortis @makingmunson94 @angelina16torres-blog @tlclick73 @gretavankleep37 @melaninjhs @amira0303 @robyn-118 @jaydaaasworld @squidscottjeans @rockstarmunsons @alanamarie @dandelionnfluff @aol19 @eddiesguitarskills @vampdaisy @br66klynbaby @raven-rust @daisyridleyyyy @i-love-ptv @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson @hideoutside @eddiemunson-fanfic @paprikaquinn @burns-in-the-sun @cherrycolas-things @exploding-bonbon @krazyk99 @idkbbyx3 @amberpanda99 @munsonmecrazy

A/N: The slow burning has come to an end y’all can all breathe a little easier now✨

“Did you really just ring my doorbell?” “Uh yeah? It’s what people usually do when they arrive at someone’s house…it lets the owner of the home know they’re here…” “thanks smartass…I meant why didn’t you just come in like you normally do?” “Oh uhm…I just…I didn’t know if it was locked or not and…I know you watch too many of those true crime shows…that it would freak you out if you heard someone messing with your doorknob…” “Oh…right…well come on in dinner is in the over but I opened a bottle of wine if you’d like a glass?” “Sure…oh uh Dustin says hello..he’s going to call you tomorrow he said something about wanting to do a movie night this weekend.” “That would be fun…you have plans for this weekend?” “Not at the moment…” “well you do now…why are you just standing there? You can sit down you know? The couch won’t bite you in the ass or anything.” “I can’t do this.” “Can’t do what? Sit down? Do you have an ass tattoo that’s healing or something?” “What? No I don’t have a tattoo on my ass…I can’t do this…you and I…just acting like…like this isn’t the very fucking room that…that everything…changed in.” “Yeah..this is the room where I figured out my ex husband was cheating on me with my bestfriend’s wife.” “That’s not what I’m talking about…” “oh right…it’s the room that I decided I was actually done with him in..and signed all the dotted lines possible to make him my ex husband…right on that coffee table actually.” “That’s also not what-” “it’s also the room that Dustin told us he was going to college in…it’s the room Max told me she and Lucas were breaking up for good in…where Robin let me cry on her shoulder after telling her about Steve…it’s where you and I used to fall asleep in the middle of our horror movie nights and I’d wake up to the sound of someone dying…and it’s the room where just recently I decided everything is going to be okay…we’re gonna be fine.” “We’re gonna be fine?” “Yes.” “I don’t…I don’t know if we are…going to be fine…” “are you calling me a liar?” “What? No…no I’m just saying I’m not so sure you’re…right.” “So you’re saying I’m wrong?” “I’m saying you have the potential of being wrong…yes…because how…how can you say we are going to be fine when this…this doesn’t feel the same? It feels…weird.” “I can say we’re gonna be fine because…I’m in love with you Eddie.” “I’m sorry…what the fuck did you…did you just…say to me?” “Don’t be an asshole Edward James.” “Say it one more time please you know my hair blocks my hearing sometimes.” “I’m in love with you…I’m sorry it took me-” “Sorry sorry I didn’t mean to do that.” “You didn’t mean to kiss me?” “I mean…I didn’t mean to interrupt you…what were you saying?” “I honestly don’t remember…” “I do have that effect on people…causing momentary memory fogs…it’s just the power of the Munson charm…but it was something about taking you so long?” “Munson charm? Who’s been lying to you and telling you that you’re charming?” “Now who’s being an asshole?” “Anyway…I’m sorry it took me so long to realize how I felt…I just…wasn’t ready but if I’m being honest…I think these feelings have always been there I just didn’t want to lose you so…I didn’t say anything..and then Steve showed up.” “I get it…I really do…I love you…I don’t care how long it took us to get here…I’m just so fucking glad we’re here.” “I love you too…still think I have the potential of being wrong about us being fine?” “Yes…but only because we are going to be more than fine…we’re gonna be great.” “Was that supposed to be a moment where your Munson charm was supposed to make me all woozy and fall more in love with you?” “Did it work?” “No…now come on and help me finish dinner.” “Glad to see you being in love with me hasn’t made you lose your bossiness.” “You wouldn’t love me if I wasn’t exactly the way that I am.” “That’s true…”

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dragonflylady77 · 6 months

Text

Not-So Blind Date

Hiiiiiiiii!! This fic was so much fun to write. I hope you enjoy it!

This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race

Roommates AU, Idiots in love | Rating: Teen | 5.1k

On Ao3

Billy's been in love with Steve since about twelve seconds after they met the day Billy moved into the dorms... Once they both graduated, they found jobs and an apartment. Sharing a space with Steve is both the best and the most frustrating thing in Billy’s life. Because Billy is completely and hopelessly in love with Steve. Because Steve has no idea. Because Steve is straight.

Billy closes the front door behind him with a relieved sigh. He dumps his keys in the bowl on the sideboard and toes off his shoes.

Today sucked. As if sleeping through his alarm and spilling his coffee on his clean shirt wasn’t enough, he missed the bus and was late for work. Then it just kept getting worse, work was endlessly piling up on his desk, his favorite lunch spot was closed, he dropped sauce on his pants. That was followed by an afternoon of playing phone tag with a couple of suppliers and to top it all off, it started raining on his walk home from the bus stop.

He strips down to his boxers, dumps his clothes in a wet pile on the bathroom floor and turns the shower on before getting a towel from the hallway cupboard.

He stops when he hears Steve’s voice. It’s unexpected because Billy is pretty sure Steve had a day shift today. He sounds angry but Billy can’t hear another voice so he must be on the phone.

“No, thank you, I’ve heard quite enough… Oh, yes, I’m sure… Whatever, dickhead… Uh huh… Yeah, have a nice life.”

Footsteps get closer and the door to Steve’s room opens before Billy has a chance to disappear into the bathroom.

Steve looks like he’s been crying, his eyes red, his cheeks blotchy, and he’s still wearing his teal scrubs.

“Oh, Billy. Hi. Didn’t realize you were home,” Steve says, startled.

“You okay, pretty boy? Do I need to break someone’s legs?” Billy feels a bit awkward standing there in his boxers, holding a towel to his chest. Exposed. He notices Steve’s gaze taking in his state of undress and it warms something in his chest. A spark of hope he quickly extinguishes.

He’s been in love with Steve since about twelve seconds after they met the day Billy moved into the dorms. Alphabet buddies, roommates and then best friends. Moving from the dorms to an apartment after they both got their degrees and found jobs seemed like a natural progression, splitting the rent and everything else. Sharing a space with Steve is both the best and the most frustrating thing in Billy’s life.

Because Billy is completely and hopelessly in love with Steve.

Because Steve has no idea.

Because Steve is straight.

Billy brings his focus back on Steve and the current crisis.

“What happened to you?” Steve asks, his hand gesturing vaguely towards Billy’s hair, his curls dripping down his chest.

“Started pissing down on my way home from the fucking bus. Then a car drove through a puddle a bit too close to the sidewalk and I got drenched.”

“Sounds like we both had shitty days.”

“You have no idea.” Billy just wants to have a hot shower and forget today happened.

“Wanna order in and watch Justified?”

“Sounds good, Stevie.” With a grin and a nod, Billy heads to the bathroom. The hopeful part of him likes to imagine Steve is staring at his ass but he doesn’t turn around to check. The bathroom is full of steam when he steps in the shower and he lets the hot water wash away his bad mood.

*****

Steve is sat on the couch, Billy on a cushion on the floor in front of him, the empty pizza boxes discarded on the coffee table, three sad looking pieces of garlic bread left in one of them. Steve is combing curl serum into Billy’s still damp curls with his fingers. He doesn’t remember exactly how long since he started doing this for Billy, it was sometime in their second year in college, but it’s become a calming activity for both of them on bad days.

Justified is playing on the TV, Steve doesn’t know how many times they’ve watched it over the years but it’s their go-to comfort show. No matter what happens at work, Steve knows that Billy will be there when he gets home to cheer him up with take-out, beer and their favorite Deputy US Marshal.

“Hey, Stevie?” Billy asks from his spot on the floor.

“Yeah?” Steve grabs the towel he left on the armrest to wipe his hands then he pats Billy’s shoulder twice to indicate he’s done. Billy moves up to sit on the couch, sprawling next to Steve, his toes wedging under Steve’s thigh.

“Ava or Winona?”

“Um… Gosh, I don’t know.” It’s been a while since they played the pick one game. Usually the choices are equally ghastly and the game ends in fits of laughter.

“Come on, just pick one.”

“I’m thinking!” Steve looks at the screen. They’re somewhere in season two, Winona and Raylan are tentatively dating and Boyd is boarding at Ava’s house. He thinks about both women and their motivations. “Ava.”

Billy lets out a low whistle. “Well, pretty boy, color me surprised.”

“Why? She takes no shit, rolls with the punches and adapts, and she’s very resourceful. Reminds me a bit of you actually.”

“Aww, Stevie.”

“It’s true.” Steve shrugs. “You got away from Neil and built a good life for yourself. Now we just need to find you a man.”

And maybe, just maybe, that man could be me.

The thought hits Steve and he freezes. He blames seeing Billy in his underwear earlier for the stray thought. He’s been doing so good ignoring them but it’s getting trickier, especially on nights like tonight when they’re both very tactile and domestic.

He got tired of telling Robin that Billy is his roommate and not his boyfriend, but it seems the more he answered her never-ending questions, the more she was comforted in the idea. It forced Steve to take stock of all the stray thoughts about Billy he’s been ignoring for, well, years, and untangle them all to realize something major about his identity. And his feelings. Something he has yet to share with Billy.

He’s not sure why he still hasn’t told Billy he’s bisexual. Every shift he’s had with Robin in the past few months, and every time they’ve seen each other outside the hospital, she’s asked him if he’d done it yet. He knows he should tell him, Billy is his best friend after all. But Steve isn’t sure he’s ready to rock the boat. Just because Billy is gay, doesn’t mean he’d be into Steve. And Steve would rather live with Billy as things are, than go through life without him, nursing a broken heart.

“Oh god, not you too,” Billy laughs as he kicks Steve’s thigh. “Heather is constantly on my ass about dating again and I am not interested.”

It’s a nice ass , Steve thinks, feeling his face heat up and hoping Billy doesn’t notice.

*****

It’s been a couple of weeks since Billy came home soaked to the bone and overheard the end of Steve’s phone call. Steve hasn’t mentioned anything but he’s been home more so Billy wonders if that means Steve is single again.

He was clearly dating someone before, even though Billy never got to meet whoever that was, which, weird. Steve tends to bring the women he dates to Friday night drinks with their group of friends, once they’ve made it past the three months mark.

They’ve taken to cooking dinner together when Steve is not working the night shift, and it’s really nice. Billy enjoys the close contact and the banter as they chop and dice and sauté. He misses it when Steve has a night shift, and always makes sure Steve has a plate of leftovers waiting for him in the fridge when he gets home.

Heather has been trying to talk him into going on a blind date with some guy her girlfriend knows. Billy told her he would if she let him meet said girlfriend, because they’ve been going out for months and Billy still knows nothing about the mystery woman. So far Heather hasn’t given up any information so Billy remains blissfully dateless.

He’s not interested anyway. He knows he should try and move on from his crush on Steve, but it’s hard to do when they live together, and he is not prepared to not have Steve in his life.

“You started without me.”

Billy turns around from the sink where he’s washing the vegetables for tonight’s stir fry. Steve is standing in the doorway, wearing Billy’s old UCLA hoodie and carrying a shopping bag. He looks tired. Billy smiles.

“Hey, Stevie, I wasn’t sure when you were coming home and you didn’t text. Sorry.” He nods towards the chopping board on the counter. “You can chop the chicken if you want.”

“Need to get changed first. I’ll be right back.”

They settle into their routine, working together to cook their meal, knowing what needs doing without having to talk about it. Once they’re sitting down on the couch with their food, and a drink, Billy puts Justified on.

“How was your day?” Steve asks and Billy shrugs.

“Tommy was his usual obnoxious self, Heather still won’t tell me anything about her girlfriend and the taco truck I like was back on our street. You?”

“Slept in, had lunch with Robin, we’re both on nights for the rest of the week, so that’s nice, makes it easier.”

“You were home late,” Billy remarks. He missed Steve, okay? Sue him.

“Sorry, should have texted you to let you know. We had lunch at that Japanese restaurant Robin never shuts up about, then she dragged me to the mall to find a present for her girlfriend for their six month anniversary and I had to talk her out of getting a kitten.”

“Oh my god!”

“Uh huh, then she tried to convince me a pet rabbit was the best idea ever.”

“Wow. Glad you were there to stop her. What did she get in the end?”

“Oh well, she walked into Victoria’s Secrets and I told her I was leaving.”

Billy laughs. “I thought you liked that shop. You were always there when you were dating that girl last year.”

Steve blushes. “That was different. I didn’t feel right discussing undergarments about my friend’s secret girlfriend!”

Not for the first time, Billy wonders about the odds of their friends both having a secret girlfriend, and if, maybe, Heather and Robin are dating each other. He told Steve about his theory and they paid attention during Friday night drinks but the two women didn’t even sit next to each other or interact all that much. Either they weren’t dating or they were really good at acting.

“Fair enough.” Billy puts his empty bowl on the floor and stretches. His t-shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of his belly and Steve’s eyes follow the motion. Billy tells himself it doesn’t mean anything, Steve is just reacting to the movement.

“Anyway, she decided to go back another time, and we found a coffee shop because I needed some caffeine after being at the mall for so long. And that’s when she ambushed me.”

“What do you mean, pretty boy? How did she ambush you?” Billy is confused. He turns around to face Steve, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

“She asked about Sam and when I said we broke up a couple of weeks ago, she tried to convince me to agree to go on a date with someone she reckons is perfect for me.” Steve sighs.

Billy’s fingers dig into his calves. So he was right, and Steve is single. And now he knows the name of the girl Steve was dating. Not for the first time, he wonders if that’s who Steve was on the phone with that night it rained so much. Steve called whoever a dickhead, an insult typically thrown at males, so maybe not.

“What did you say?” The idea of Steve going on a date with someone who isn’t him makes him want to puke.

“Told her it was too soon.”

All Billy hears is that Steve didn’t say no. And really, he has no reason to say no to Robin. Suddenly Billy can’t be in the same room.

“Sorry, gonna head to bed, long day tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve looks at him part surprised, part sad, making Billy’s heart squeeze in his chest.

He needs to get out of here.

***

Steve can’t shake the feeling that Billy is avoiding him. For the past three weeks, Steve’s dinner has been waiting for him when he gets home from a day shift. Every time there is a note from Billy stuck to the fridge, saying he is out with Heather or in his room with a headache or other vaguely believable reasons. And Billy always seems to be on his way out whenever Steve gets up before a night shift.

It’s starting to piss him off. He has no idea what sparked the change. And he hasn’t seen Billy in person long enough to ask him. Last night, Billy was blasting Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've) by the Buzzcocks, making Steve wonder if Billy had been seeing someone and it ended badly. The music was so loud that Billy didn’t even hear Steve knock on his door.

Maybe tonight will be the night they can sort it out. Steve is running late for Friday night drinks with their group of friends because he had to process a patient right before clocking out.

When he gets to The Upside Down, everyone is already there and Billy is in a corner with Heather, talking animatedly. They stop when they notice Steve has arrived.

Once again, Steve wonders what the fuck is going on with Billy, and why he won't talk to him about it.

“Hey, dingus!” Robin hands him a beer as he sits down next to her. “Was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“Got delayed at work and had to stop at home first,” Steve says, taking a sip, eyes on Billy who is looking at his drink. “What did I miss?”

“Heather and Billy bitching about Tommy, mostly,” Robin replies with a shrug.

“We have news,” Nancy says, from where she’s sitting with Jonathan across the table, gathering everyone’s attention. “I, um, I got the job at the New York Times so we’ll be moving in the next month or two.”

The whole table erupts in happy shouts of congratulations. Steve feels a short pang of nostalgia at the thought that the dynamics of their group of friends will change, losing two of its core members. And now he’s worried about losing Billy on top of that.

“You okay, Stevie?” Robin asks, nudging him gently with her elbow and Steve sighs.

“Yeah… just… tired.” He keeps glancing at Billy, who is avoiding eye contact.

“Uh huh. Come help me get the next round,” she says, standing and looking at him expectantly.

Steve gets up and follows Robin to the bar, dreading the conversation he knows he’s coming.

Robin doesn’t waste any time once they get away from the table. “You told him yet?”

“Told who what?” Steve retorts, aware that his reply won’t fly with Robin. He wants to turn around to see if Billy is looking but resists the urge.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly what I mean,” she says, grabbing his wrist to get his attention. “You need to tell him how you feel.”

“Why?” Steve doesn’t see why he can’t keep secretly crushing on his best friend and roommate, instead of upsetting the status quo and risking everything. But then, the way Billy has been avoiding him makes him dread the day he’ll come home from a shift at the hospital and Billy will be gone, leaving behind a note, if he’s lucky.

“Because that man has been gone on you for freaking years and you’ve been too blind to see it. And because he, at the very least, needs to know you’re not as straight as he believes you to be.” Robin squeezes his hand. “And if you won’t, then you need to find a way to move on and let him go.”

“Rob…” Steve’s heart squeezes painfully at the thought and something heavy settles in his gut.

“You can’t keep going like this, sweetie. You deserve to be happy. You both do.”

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Robin is right. He can’t live like this. He needs to do something . “Fine.”

“Fine what?”

“Set me up on that stupid date with that guy you think is so perfect for me.”

Robin stares at him for a long time before she speaks. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Steve shrugs. “Sounds better than losing my best friend when he inevitably turns me down.”

*****

Billy needs to get out before he punches a hole in the wall.

He was having a drink before he got started on dinner prep when Steve woke up after his night shift and sprung the news on him that he was going out. On a fucking date . It took all of Billy’s control to not hurl his beer bottle at the wall.

Now Steve is getting ready and Billy locked himself in his room, pacing and trying not to scream. If Steve brings the girl home at the end of their date, Billy might have to throw himself out of the window.

He grabs his phone and texts Heather.

hank, you busy

need to get out of here

steve going on a fucking date

why is this happening to me

the universe hates me

hank

holloway

heather

come on

i need you

please hank

i’ll jump out the window

Billy regrets having quit smoking because he’d kill for a cigarette, if only for something to do with his hands that’s not serial texting Heather or punching his pillow because he can’t make holes in the wall and risk losing the security deposit.

OMFG Blondie, calm your tits!

don’t tell me to calm down what if he brings his date home

i can’t do this i’ll pack a bag and move out while steve’s on his date

Jesus Fucking Christ, William.

First of all, you live on the first floor, so you’re unlikely to do much damage to yourself if you jump out the window.

you underestimate how much i can do out of spite

I would laugh at you so much before I called the ambulance.

you’re supposed to be my friend and you’re making fun of my pain

Ugh. Seriously, Billy, I’m out on a date with my girlfriend right now.

everyone is on a fucking date fine let me die alone

I swear to God, you are such a drama queen.

We’re at Enzo’s, come over, I’ll buy you a drink and you can crash my date, I guess.

oh so now i’m good enough to meet your girlfriend

steve just left i heard the door

Wear something nice.

why

Because Enzo’s is a nice place and they won’t let you in if you’re wearing your sweatpants and your ratty Scorpions t-shirt.

Clean button down and your nice jacket, if you please.

heather

William.

ugh fine

gonna have a quick shower first

If you must. Want me to get you an Uber? 20 mins?

yes please

thank you hank

love you

Love you too, Blondie.

Billy takes a quick shower and speeds through his hair care routine before putting on the clothes Heather requested. He’s ready and outside a couple of minutes before the car Heather ordered for him arrives.

He tries not to think about Steve and his date and attempts to distract himself by doom scrolling on Instagram. Steve posted a photo of a candle on a white table cloth in his stories. On the verge of tears, Billy closes the app and puts his phone in his pocket.

Heather is waiting for him outside the restaurant and hugs him as soon as he steps out of the Uber.

“You clean up good, Blondie.”

“Fuck off,” Billy says, but there’s no anger in it. He feels drained and heartbroken. Steve is wining and dining some chick and Billy wants to cry. He’s glad Max is away, cycling the length of New Zealand with Lucas, because there’s no way he could take her ‘I told you so’ right now.

“Come on. I’ll introduce you to my girlfriend.” Heather leads them through the doors and past the maître d’. Billy looks ahead and something clicks when he spots Robin in a booth at the back of the room. Someone is sitting across from her but he can’t see who yet because they have their back to the room.

“I knew it.”

“What?” Heather asks, glancing back at him for a second without stopping.

“You and Robin.”

Heather stops then and turns to face him. “What do you mean, you knew? You never said.”

“Both of you saying you have a mystery girlfriend you don’t wanna talk about? That no one can meet or know anything about?” Billy shrugs and manages a small smile. “I’m happy for you, but I don’t get why you felt you had to hide it.”

“Sorry. It was nice to keep it to just the two of us at first and then we weren’t sure how to tell everyone. Then it kinda became a game to see how long it would take you guys to notice and say something.”

Billy nods towards the booth where Robin is sitting. “Looks like I’m not the only one crashing your date night.”

“Oh,” Heather says, with a smile that Billy recognizes, it’s the one meaning she’s up to no good. “That’s your date.”

***

Steve is getting really frustrated with Robin. They’ve been sitting at Enzo’s for over twenty minutes and she still hasn’t told him anything about this mystery person she set him up with. She said her girlfriend is waiting outside to bring them in and encouraged Steve to enjoy his rum and coke and the complimentary breadsticks.

“Oh,” he hears a familiar voice say behind him, “that’s your date.”

He turns around and freezes on the spot, his hand gripping the table for support. Heather. Robin’s girlfriend is Heather . He remembers having many discussions about it with Billy but they could never decide whether the two were actually together or not.

There’s movement behind Heather and someone steps out beside her. Steve’s heart skips a beat. It’s Billy. He’s wearing that dark red button-down shirt that looks so good on him and his nice jacket. Steve feels his heart rate speed up.

Billy looks as confused as he does so Steve turns back to Robin. “Robin... What…what’s going on?”

“Well, Stevie, I told you that my girlfriend knew someone who’s perfect for you,” Robin says with a satisfied grin and Steve wants to shake her until she explains. He puts his hands on his thighs and squeezes them into fists.

This is not happening.

“What the fuck do you mean, Harrington is my date? He’s the one who’s on a date, Hank, not me.”

Hearing Billy refer to him by his last name hurts, like a knife through the heart. He hasn’t done that since the first months they lived in the dorms back in college, before they became friends. Steve never expected their friendship to end in a fancy restaurant in front of an audience but apparently this is happening now and there is nothing he can do about it.

Heather shoves Billy forward and Robin gets out of the bench seat so Billy can sit there instead. He does so only after Heather glares at him and Steve takes a closer look at him. Billy still won’t make eye contact with him and Steve can tell he’s clenching his jaw, like he does when he’s angry or frustrated. Before either of them can say anything, Heather puts both hands on the table and looks at each of them in turn.

“Both of you, shut it and listen,” she starts, Robin standing by her side, looking resolute.

“Hank—” Billy starts, shutting up when Heather lifts one eyebrow and gives him a withering look.

“No. This has gone on for far too long. I know it’s bad form to out someone but needs must. Billy, honey, Bambi here is not as straight as you think. I am not sure why he hasn’t told you yet, but I know that Robin has been on his case about it for ages. And you,” she turns to Steve and he sits up straighter.

The woman is scary, Steve isn’t afraid to admit it. He stays silent and waits to see what she’s going to dish out.

“If you can’t see that my boy here has been gone on you pretty much since he met you, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Robin puts her hand on Steve’s and gives him a light squeeze. “I told you the other night you couldn’t keep going like this. You and Billy need to talk. Take the time you need, enjoy your dinner and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Heather pats Billy’s shoulder then she takes Robin’s hand, and they leave the two of them alone. Steve is reeling from the exchange, his mind stuck on what Heather said to him.

“Billy…” he starts, the words dying in his throat when he sees the haunted look on Billy’s face.

“Is it true?” Billy whispers, fiddling with the ring on his finger. His cheeks are pink and his shoulders curled up like all his confidence drained away.

It makes Steve’s chest hurt to see him like this. He reaches across the table but his hands stop just short of Billy’s. “Yeah, I’m… I’m bisexual. I, um, I was going out with this guy called Sam a couple of months ago but I broke up with him.”

“Why?”

Billy’s voice is just above a whisper, his eyes shiny with unshed tears and Steve wants to punch himself for putting them there.

“He wanted to, um, to go all the way, and when I said I wasn't ready for that yet, he decided to get it from someone else. I found out and dumped him.”

“Okay.”

“Billy…” Steve waits for Billy to look at him and this time he slides his fingers over Billy’s. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess… I guess I was scared.”

“Scared? Steve, I’m gay, what did you think I was gonna say if you told me?”

Steve breaks eye contact and looks down at their hands on the table. His reason for not telling Billy seems flimsy as fuck now. “I was scared I would tell you you’re the reason I realized I was into guys and you wouldn’t feel the same way about me. And you’re too important to me and I didn’t want to risk what we had.”

Billy laughs then, but it’s a wet, sad kind of laugh. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Billy turns his hands over and links their fingers together. “Pretty boy, I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.”

“You… you never said anything.” Steve feels his cheeks heat up.

“Steve, you always said you were straight. I didn’t see the point. It was hard enough when I knew you were actually in a relationship with someone but when you mentioned Robin setting you up on a date the other day, I couldn’t pretend to be okay with it anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Billy. I’m so sorry.” He can’t believe he almost missed out on this. Almost lost Billy. “I realized you were avoiding me but I couldn’t work out why. Every time I came home from work, I worried you would be gone for good. And it broke my heart.”

Billy must see something on his face because he leaves his side of the table to sit next to Steve, his arm going over Steve’s shoulders and pulling him close.

“Baby… I’m sorry. It hurt too much to be around you.”

Steve wraps his arms around Billy’s waist and buries his face in Billy’s neck, inhaling the scent he knows so well, taking comfort in it. After a moment, he pulls back just enough so he can look Billy in the eye. “I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Billy doesn’t say anything in reply, instead he moves his hands to cup Steve’s face and presses their lips together.

Steve melts into the kiss. He never wants it to end. He wants to climb inside Billy’s chest and live there forever. He finds that reality is so much better than any dreams he had.

A discreet cough behind them puts a stop to the kiss and they pull apart slowly. A waitress is standing by their table, holding a tablet to take their order. Steve looks at Billy, who nods with a smile.

“I’ll just… um, pay for the drinks, and we’ll be on our way, sorry for the trouble,” Steve stammers, feeling his cheeks heat up, trying to process the fact that he just made out with Billy in the middle of a fancy restaurant. Oooooops.

“That’s fine, sir, the tab for the drinks was settled earlier,” the woman says with a smile.

“Oh, okay.”

Billy squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “Let’s go home, pretty boy.”

Steve smiles before untangling himself from Billy and getting out of the seat. He feels Billy following as he gets his wallet out of his pocket and pulls a twenty dollar note from it. He hands the waitress the tip and thanks her before taking Billy’s hand in his and leading the way towards the exit.

They make out against the wall while they wait for the Uber that takes them home, and pick up where they left off as soon as they walk through their front door. They kick off their shoes and take off their clothes in record time then tumble in a tangle of limbs onto Billy’s bed.

Steve is naked with the man he loves and they’re kissing and laughing and dry humping like teenagers and he doesn’t remember ever feeling this happy and content with anyone.

Later, when they’re both sated after a couple of orgasms each, they pad to the kitchen in their boxers. Billy makes them chocolate mug cakes that they eat with ice cream under a blanket on the couch. Phones turned off to keep the bubble they’re in intact, they put on Justified.

“Hmmm…” Bill says, looking at the screen with a smirk.

“What?” Steve asks, half expecting what comes next.

“I guess I should have asked Ava or Boyd, really.”

Steve groans as Billy cackles, the blanket falling off them.

“Dick,” Steve says, punching him playfully in the shoulder. “Okay, Raylan or Boyd?”

Billy pretends to think about it, Steve can tell. Then he looks at Steve, all serious.

“You.”

~~~

Please look forward to the wonderful work from the next contributor: @lorifragolina

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #harringrove relay race #hg relay race #dragonflylady77

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