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violetsteve · 2 years

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If you prefer, this is also posted on AO3

After the almost end of the world, Steve decides he’s going to put the moves on Eddie Munson.

Robin may or may not laugh in his face when he announces it.

The thing is, despite Robin almost laughing him out of the building, the thing is Steve is still figuring out his sexuality. He knows he likes girls, he’s always liked girls, but then Robin pointed out that maybe he couldn’t figure out what he wanted because he wasn’t looking in the right place and Steve realized she was right . Sure, Robin had meant more of a ‘ stop going after girls who are traditionally pretty and from well off families and try going out with girls whose company you actually enjoy’ and not a ‘ hey, dudes are kinda hot, too, right? It was real weird how transfixed you seemed to be on Eddie Munsons lips while we were actively fighting demon monsters,’ but Steve has always been good at reading in between the lines. Or, more like inserting what he wants in the gaps of what people leave unsaid.

So, no, Robin did not tell Steve to open his eyes and realize that straight guys don’t exactly think about how another guys lips will look slick with spit, how they’ll feel under the pressure of his thumb, what the sweet satisfaction of them partying so readily under his will feel like, but she did tell him to broaden his horizons and honestly, they were basically the same thing.

Which is why Steve feels like she should be more supportive of his plans to woo Eddie Munson onto his couch—and maybe, if he’s feeling ambitious, eventually into his bed.

“Robin, come on . I’m serious!” Steve will never admit, even under Russian torture again, that he whines it. He’s coming to Robin as a sounding board, not so she can make fun of him. If he wants someone to make fun of his lack of prowess, he would go talk to Dustin.

Or, yeah on second thought no. He’s not actually sure his ego could take that much of a hit at the moment.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gasps, gripping the—newly rebuilt and polished—family video counter in front of her. “I just—Steve, that’s-that’s so ambitious . You literally just came out to me less than a week ago and you’re already talking about getting with a boy. And Eddie Munson at that.”

Steve scowls at her, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that he knows looks bitchy, but he can’t help it because—

“Don’t say his name like that. He literally almost died to save us all. He’s not fucking dirty .”

Robin immediately sobers, a guilty, but irritated look on her face. “That’s not how I meant it, Steve, and you know it. Don’t get bitchy at me just because you’re feeling sensitive about your feelings for a boy.”

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Steve isn’t really angry at her for laughing—Robin makes fun of him at least 7 times a day, Steve would be more concerned if she didn’t make at least one joke about this—and he isn’t even mad at her for putting a weird emphasis on Eddie’s name. No, he’s all twisted up about his feelings and he’s never been good at expressing them, let alone talking about them. He’s feeling self conscious and his skin is prickling with embarrassment and the easiest thing to do is lash out about it.

“That’s not—“ Steve cuts himself off, looking away from Robin as his shoulders slump. “You’re right,” he mumbles. “Sorry. I just. I wanna fucking kiss him so bad , Rob, and that freaks me out a little.” Steve untucks one of his arms to scrub a hand over his face, leaving the other one tucked around his waist to protect his vulnerable bits.

“Hey,” Robin murmurs, closing the distance between them so she can settle her hands on his shoulders. “I get it. Do you think I acted like a sane person the first time I realized I wanna kiss girls? I think I cried for a week. Kerry the stuffed Koala had to go to therapy because of all of my crying. It was a serious time in the Buckley house.”

Steve smiles behind his hand. He loves her so much. She’s really his best friend. He’s so thankful for her.

“You still cry about kissing girls,” Steve says, rather than admitting any of that. She already knows she’s smart, Steve doesn’t need to add any more to her ego. It just gives her more brain to bully him with.

He drops the hand covering his face to look at her. “Only now it’s more of a,” Steve puts on a high pitched, whiny voice, “‘why do I have to go to work when I could be spending all day making out with my girlfriend.’” He brings both of his hands up to clasp in front of his chest, batting his eyelashes at her in a fake-coy way.

Robin shoves at him, catches him off guard and he goes stumbling backwards into the counter, laughing the whole way.

“Shut up , you absolute dickhead, ” she all but screeches, reaching out to give his chest another shove for good measure. “You literally have no room to talk considering you started this shift by announcing your intentions to, quite literally, crawl into Eddie’s lap and kiss him stupid . That’s almost verbatim what you said, Steve.”

Steve’s still chuckling as he rights his position a little, leaning back against the counter more comfortably. “Yeah, I did say that.” He sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth before he continues with, “I really, really wanna sit on his lap and kiss him until he can’t focus, Rob.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but it’s more fond than annoyed. Steve can tell—he’s been on the receiving end of about 90 percent of Robin’s eye rolls, he’s getting good at distinguishing the emotions behind each one.

“I still can’t believe you have a crush on Eddie Munson of all people. He’s so weird ,” She laughs, but Steve can tell that that, too, is fond. Robin and Eddie have a weird friendship. They geek out over obscure instruments and the nuance of tacky movies together. Steve doesn’t get it, but he enjoys watching how expressive both of them can be. He once watched Eddie climb onto a table while arguing with Robin about one of their movies. Robin followed him up shortly after, though, so Steve isn’t sure why she thinks the weird is limited to Eddie.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, and he’s man enough to admit that it sounds dreamy . God, he’s pathetic over Eddie. It scares the shit out of him. “You know, the other day he gave me a rock. It wasn’t even, like, a cool rock. It was literally just a rock. When I asked him why he just shrugged and was like ‘I dunno, it made me think of you.’”

Robin’s grin grows. “Oh my God. What did you do with the rock?”

Steve shoots her a disgruntled look. “What do you think I did with the rock? I put in my pocket and then brought it home and set it on my nightstand. Eddie gave it to me, I wasn’t just going to throw it on the ground again. That’s rude.”

Robin absolutely cackles at this, there’s no other way to describe it. She’s awash in glee as she claps her hands together a few times. “ Jesus , Steve. You’ve got it so bad for this man.”

“God,” Steve mutters, running a hand over his face again. “That’s not even the worst part, Rob. He like. He grabs his utensils with his whole fist when he eats. It’s so weird, and it’s so messy . It makes fuck all sense. He doesn't even grab a pencil that way. Just his fucking eating utensils .

“And he walks so chaotic. He just randomly breaks into a sprint. Just starts fucking running out of nowhere. And he bounces. As if the random running wasn’t enough, he just fucking starts jumping. Sometimes he jumps at me, and it’s all I can do to actually catch him before he eats dirt. Or- or he’ll just. Spin. Just twirl in the middle of the sidewalk while still carrying on a conversation.” Steve slumps, his back getting slightly scraped against the counter as he sinks to his butt.

“The man has zero regard for personal space and he always makes way too intense of eye contact. Sometimes he’ll use one of his character voices in the middle of an otherwise totally normal conversation, and he’s always climbing on things. He’s loud and he’s weird and I wanna wrap my fingers around the collar of his shirt, shove him against a wall and then shove my tongue down his throat , jesus christ. ” Steve buries his face in his knees, his mind playing an endless loop of Eddie smiling with those stupid lips that are always cherry red and raw from his constant gnawing. Steve wants to bite them for him.

“Oh, my God, Steve.” Robing sinks down to sit across from him. “This is pathetic . I, like, knew you had a crush on Eddie but this is like. Dangerous territory. Like, the next step might be the L word level territory.”

Steve makes a small squeaking noise, his face still buried in his knees. Robin’s words hint at something that Steve is so not ready to admit to himself yet. She’s hitting way too close to something Steve has been avoiding actively and vehemently since he realized the attraction he feels for boys is decidedly not of the straight variety.

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then, like the angel she so clearly is, Robin says, “So, wanna tell me about operation ‘crawl into Eddie’s lap and makeout with him?’”

Steve laughs, the tightness in his chest slowly easing. He lifts his head, and then spills his guts.

***

The plan starts simply. First, he needs to get Eddie alone . No annoying tagalongs to potentially interrupt.

It’s easier said than done. For two days straight, Steve asks Eddie to hang out and, somehow, one of the kids manages to weasel into their plans.

It’s driving Steve nuts.

He casually asks Eddie to watch a movie, give him a proper education like him and Robin are always going on about, and Dustin overhears and invites himself.

He asks Eddie to go for a walk, makes an excuse about it being gorgeous outside while he plots ways for the walk to end right outside his house, isn’t that neat, but Lucas and Max overhear and suddenly it’s a group affair.

He asks Eddie to get milkshakes, plans to lure him back to his house with the promise of complete control of Steve’s record player, but El overhears and asks if she can tag along and Steve just can’t look into her big, earnest eyes and tell her no. He’s not a monster.

So they get milkshakes with El, and it’s fun . Of course it’s fun, but Steve is getting desperate . It’s been a little over a week since he hatched his mad plan with Robin and he’s about to start climbing the walls with anticipation.

It doesn’t help that Eddie has a mother fucking oral fixation. At every opportunity he’s either putting stuff in his mouth or chewing on something. It’s fucking rude, is what it is. It’s like he doesn’t even realize Steve is suffering.

It all finally comes to a head a full week and four days after his conversation with Robin on the floor of Family Video. He’s stopping by Eddie’s house to grab something Dustin left behind because Dustin asked and he’s nice . It’s maybe also because it’s a great excuse to see Eddie, but Dustin sure as shit doesn’t need to know that that’s the sole reason Steve said he will.

Eddie is slightly bent over, riffling through his Dungeons and Dorks stuff, and Steve is trying so hard to pretend like he’s not entirely focusing on his ass and the line of exposed skin above his belt. If Eddie turns around right now, he’s busted for sure.

Eddie’s just mentioned some kind of dragon when he lets out a triumphant noise, his story coming to an abrupt halt as he spins on his heel to face Steve.

“Aha!” He exclaims, thrusting a notebook in Steve's direction.

Steve automatically reaches out to take it, his fingers brushing over the backs of Eddie’s in the switch over. Eddie bites his bottom lip at the contact, avoiding Steve’s gaze, and suddenly all Steve is thinking about is his mouth.

Steve debates with himself for a moment. This isn’t really how he planned to seduce his way into Eddie Munson’s lap, but he’s adaptable. If the years of almost apocalypses have taught Steve anything, it’s that sometimes you have to make do with what you have.

And what Steve has is an empty trailer save the two of them, and a couch less than ten feet away. He’s got the object of his affections standing in front of him, and Steve decides to adapt.

He wets his own lips, stepping towards Eddie. His hand is still holding Eddie’s hostage over the notebook.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve murmurs, ducking his head so he can look up through his lashes.

Steve watches Eddie’s breath catch, watches him stutter over his next sentence.

“Y-yeah,” he breathes out, his eyes flicking between Steve’s eyes and his mouth at a rapid speed. “Of c-course. I mean, it happens. Kids forget things. I’m sure Dustin just wanted to, like, go over the last session's notes for anything he missed.”

“Of course,” Steve agrees, taking another step into Eddie’s space. He’s aware that he’s primarily staring at Eddie’s lips, which is probably rude, but he can’t help it. They’re wet and shiny and Steve has been thinking about them an obsessive amount for the last week and a half.

“We’re, um, I-I mean they’re going against a red dragon,” Eddie continues. Steve’s aware of this. It’s what Eddie had been telling him when he’d found the notebook. “They’re very powerful, almost impossible to defeat.”

“Are they?” Steve’s only half following the conversation, but that’s not saying much. He has a hard time keeping up with the DnD talk on a regular day.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie says, and then he’s off. He starts spitting words so fast Steve wouldn’t be able to keep up even if he were paying complete attention.

“Eddie,” Steve says, but Eddie is still talking, still mumbling along about the red dragon.

“Eddie,” Steve tries again, but it’s like he’s shouting in an empty room. He knows Eddie knows he’s talking to him, can tell by how wide Eddie’s eyes are, how he’s not even trying to not slur his rapidfire words together. If Eddie was talking about dragons for the hell of it, he’d be gesticulating and probably climbing on things. As it were, he’s got his gaze fixed on Steve, eyes comically wide as his words rush together—barely getting one out before the next slew rush into it in a truly amusing word traffic jam.

Eddie’s nervous , and fuck if that doesn’t thrill Steve to his core. Steve takes the final step towards him to completely close the distance and—

Eddie takes a step back, his words stuttering along with Steve’s heart in his chest. He wasn’t expecting that, wasn’t expecting Eddie to back away from him so quickly. Steve has half a second to be hurt, to mentally kick himself because get a fucking clue , Harrington, before he catches Eddie’s eyes darting down to his lips, his tongue unconsciously swiping along his lower lip before his gaze skitters back up to Steve’s.

And, oh, yeah , Steve has him exactly where he wants him. Eddie isn’t stepping back because he doesn’t want Steve. No, he’s stepping back because he’s prey . Steve is stalking towards him with a single minded focus and Eddie is skittering backwards like a scared rabbit—bouncing back step by step as Steve approaches until his back collides with the wall. That, finally, seems to knock all their air out of Eddie. The dragon conversation dies on his lips as Steve finally—fucking finally —closes the remaining distance between them. He reaches out, cupping Eddie's cheek in one hand, his jaw in the other, all while pressing up against Eddie from hip to chest.

“ Eddie, ” Steve murmurs, his eyes hooding. This time, Steve feels Eddie’s breath catch, feels the way a tremor works its way through Eddie’s body. He’s staring up at Steve with wide, wild eyes. He looks like a deer caught in a trap—ready to break his leg trying to get away if he needs to.

Steve isn’t sure why that makes him feel a little wild, but it does.

He stretches his thumb out to swipe across Eddie's bottom lip—already bitten and red from Eddie’s nervous chewing. God , it drives Steve crazy . He has a half-hysterical thought about offering his own up for Eddie to chew on when he’s nervous. Eddie makes him crazy .

Steve licks at his own lips as he watches the way his thumb catches and drags and the swollen skin of Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie’s trembling in earnest now, and Steve feels his pulse thundering in his ears. He wants to kiss Eddie so bad his fucking toes are curling with the anticipation.

He flicks his gaze up, away from Eddie’s lips up to his eyes and he has to fight back a groan. Eddie looks fucking wrecked and Steve hasn’t even kissed him yet. His eyes are wide and wild, his pupils blown and there’s a scarlet flush in his cheeks. He’s fucking panting against Steve’s face and he can’t take it any more. He really, really can’t. He has to kiss him—screw anticipation, screw driving Eddie past the brink. He needs and he needs now.

“ Eddie, ” Steve practically gasps . “Eddie, please.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his body unconsciously rocks forward, seeking even more of Eddie out. “Wanna kiss you so bad, please say I can, please—”

And before Steve can get another plea out, Eddie’s slamming his head forward with enough force to knock their teeth together in an uncomfortable clack ; enough force that their noses knock together in a painful way.

But Steve doesn't care . He doesn’t care because Eddie’s lips are on his and he feels like there’s liquid fire coursing through his veins. He feels lit up from the inside out as Eddie finally, finally touches him back. He fists a hand in the back of Steve’s shirt, the other winding through Steve’s hair and fuck it’s finally happening. After night upon night of imagining what kissing Eddie Munson would be like, Steve’s finally doing it.

And goddamn is he doing it. Eddie’s lips are slick against his, hot and encouraging . They slide together in a way that has Steve’s mind going blissfully blank, his only thoughts being hotwetyesmore.

He kisses him messy, lips moving together in a too fast pace that neither of them can keep track of; bruising force in the way their lips slide, spit sliping from their parted lips in a slow trickle that has Steve’s fingers curling against Eddie’s jaw.

He uses that hand to tilt Eddie’s head up slightly, angling it enough that Steve can get his bottom lip between his own and suck slightly. The first slid of Eddie’s lip between Steve’s own has him seeing fucking stars .

A punched out groan breaks free from Eddie’s throat and he rocks forward into Steve, seeking more . The hand in the middle of his back pulls and Steve is helpless to do anything but push Eddie more firmly into the wall. He knows it has to hurt, has to be restricting Eddie’s breathing with how tightly they’re pressed together, but he can’t take enough focus away from Eddie’s mouth to care . Plus, if Eddie minds that much he wouldn’t be pulling Steve closer .

Eddie breathes a wet gasp into Steve’s mouth when he takes his teeth to the lip still tucked between his own, and Steve can’t help but let out a gasp of his own. Eddie tastes fucking phenomenal. He can taste the lingering tobacco on his tongue, the salty tang of the popcorn he must have had earlier, and just the overwhelming taste of Eddie. Hot, sweet, fucking sublime. Steve‘s never been a particularly religious man, but he feels like he’s drinking heaven straight from Eddie’s mouth. With every gasp, every moan, every brush of Eddie’s tongue, he feels one step closer to absolution. It’s addicting .

God , he wants more. He wants Eddie’s hands all over him, on bare skin. He wants those deft musicians fingers to snake into his hair, tug a bit. He wants Eddie over him and under him and—

He stills suddenly, a thought occurring to him. The line that had triggered this whole thing—his announcement to Robin back in Family Video—and suddenly there’s a burning need in Steve’s gut. God, he needs to sit in Eddie’s lap right now. Needs to feel his strong thighs under him, needs Eddie’s hands on his ass and his tongue in his mouth.

“ Fuck, ” Steve bites out when he pulls back. Tearing his mouth away from Eddie’s is so much harder than it has any right to be.

Eddie’s staring at Steve with glassy eyes, his lips shiny and red and oh fuck even his chin is glistening with their spit. Steve wants to devour him.

“Go sit on the couch,” Steve says, and is pleasantly surprised that his voice only sounds a little rough, a little shaky.

“What?” Eddie croaks out, staring at Steve for a beat. Then, miracle of miracles, he does it. He stares at Steve the whole time, the glassy look getting a little clearer, and Steve thinks that simply will not do.

The minute Eddie is seated, Steve’s crawling his way into his lap. He wedges his knees into the crease at the back of the couch, shuffling as far forward as he can so their chests are pressing together, their clothed crotches aligning. Then, without giving Eddie a chance to adjust, he drops down, pressing the full weight of his ass into Eddie’s thighs and, by proximity, his dick.

“ Jesus Christ ,” Eddie swears, his hands shooting out to grab at Steve’s ass on instinct. Steve almost giggles . It’s exactly what he wants.

“You can just call me Steve,” he mutters, and before Eddie can reply, he’s sweeping in and claiming Eddie’s lips again. Eddie huffs against his mouth, but let’s Steve have the last word. Steve’s glad because he has plans .

Plans that start with Steve winding those thick curls around his fingers as he slides his lips against Eddie’s. Eddie pushes his head back into Steve’s hands like a cat, and it makes Steve smile into their kiss, which makes Eddie smile into the kiss. It’s like a domino effect—once Steve feels Eddie’s smile against his, he starts giggling like a schoolgirl. He can’t help it, this feels unreal in the best possible way.

Then Eddie’s off, giggling back into Steve’s mouth. They��re both just sitting there giggling at each other, eyes squinted and happy . God, Steve feels euphoric in this moment, perched in Eddie’s lap like it’s his throne, with Eddie’s hands on his ass.

Eddie pulls back after a moment, when their smiles are too wide to actually kiss. He brings a hand up to gently brush a strand of hair away from Steve’s eyes, tucking the long lock behind his ear before putting his hand back on Steve’s ass.

“You’re unbelievable, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, eyes so full of affection that Steve feels his insides turn to mush. He squirms in Eddie’s laps, ducking his head to mouth at Eddie’s neck because if he stares into his eyes any longer he’s going to do something stupid . Stupid like admit that he’s pretty fucking sure he’s in love with Eddie, has been since he gave him that dumb rock for no decernable reason other than he wanted to, because he was thinking of Steve.

Steve tongues at the tendon in Eddie’s neck that’s stretched taunt, rubs his nose along his jaw and up to the hollow under his ear. Eddie laughs, tilting his head sideways to give Steve easier access.

“Oh, now you’re gonna be shy? After you practically pounced on me earli—”

Eddie’s words cut off in a choked groan as Steve bites, hard , at the tendon he was just showing attention to.

“ Steve, ” Eddie gasps, but Steve doesn’t let him do any other talking. No, he’s not going to let Eddie derail him again. So, he dives back for Eddie’s mouth, licking into it, not slowing down and not giving Eddie a chance to catch up. He smooths his tongue alongside Eddie’s, lets Eddie push back against it with his own for a millisecond, before he’s switching tactics—licking behind the top row of Eddie’s teeth, sliding his tongue over Eddie’s bottom lip.

Eddie squeezes his ass at the sudden onslaught, and Steve can’t help the small jerk his body gives at that. He grinds down, a gasp trapped in the humid air between them as sharp waves of pleasure shoot up his spine. He’s trapped in between Eddie’s lips and his hands and he feels like he’s high with it.

He’s enjoying himself so much.

He slides his tongue along Eddie’s again, enjoys the way it's slightly rough and gloriously slick against his own. Enjoys the way it makes his pulse thrum a little faster, his fingers grip a little tighter where they’re fisted in Eddie’s hair—the way it makes Eddie squeeze a little tighter, which makes Steve grind down a little harder.

Steve feels the evidence of Eddie’s interest, has been feeling it, and knows Eddie has to be aware of Steve’s own. And Steve’s fantasized about Eddie’s lips for so long that he’s tried to keep it to just that—tried to focus on the heady drag of lips on lips—but it’s hard to ignore the way Steve’s own hips are twisting down, seeking as much of Eddie as possible. Hard to ignore the way Eddie has his own feet planted on the floor, meeting Steve’s hips with firm thrusts of his own.

They’re sharing humid air and sharp gasps, their lips swollen and honestly sore . Steve’s lips ache in the best way he’s ever felt, and Steve doesn’t want to stop. Wants to sit right here on Eddie’s strong thighs, wants to feel Eddie’s teeth nipping at the too sensitive skin of his mouth, wants to kiss Eddie for the rest of his life .

They kiss and kiss and kiss, and Steve has never just kissed someone like this. He’s never kissed just to feel, kissed just for the pleasure of it with no expectations for what’s to follow. He feels intoxicated. He’s utterly, wholly blissed out on Eddie Munson’s mouth and he never wants it to end.

They kiss for so long that Steve has honestly started to lose feeling in his lips. It’s weird feeling them so sore, so numb. But they are, so he slowly, so slowly pulls back. Leaning down for a few lingering pecks as he puts a little distance between their mouths.

Eddie’s mouth is bright red, spit slick and so tempting. Steve watches with fascination as a single string of spit connects their lips, stretching until he’s put enough distance between them that it breaks.

Steve bites his lip on a moan, thinks that’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

He meets Eddie’s gaze. His eyes are wild, pupils blown out. His hair is an absolute disaster from the way Steve’s been running his fingers through it, and his cheeks are flushed so prettily. Steve can’t resist sneaking one more kiss in, lingering around afterwards to rub their noses together.

“Hi,” Steve finally murmurs and fuck, is that his voice? Jesus, he sounds wrecked.

“Hi,” Eddie says back, his smile verging on loopy. “Did you know that some corvids can understand physics?”

Steve stares at him for a beat, a little stunned and a lot confused by the abrupt topic switch. Eddie stares back, a look on his face that Steve can only take for regret, his already pink face is turning positively crimson.

It’s dead quiet for a moment, then Steve bursts into laughter. His chest absolutely swells with affection, with, fuck it, love. God damn , he can’t deny it any longer. The love he feels for this boy sitting under him is overwhelming at the best of times, and it feels like it’s just bursting out of him at this moment. He’s coming apart at the seams with his feelings for Eddie, and he’s done trying to pretend that they’re anything but that.

“Oh my God, ” Eddie mutters, bringing his hands up to hide his face. It’s so endearing. Steve is endeared. “Sorry, fuck. I don’t know why I just said that.”

“Jesus Christ, dude.” Steve’s still grinning down at Eddie, moving his hands to clasp around Eddie’s wrists, trying to pry his hands away. He never wants to not be looking at Eddie. He’s so fucking weird and Steve likes him so much. “I like you so fucking much .”

Eddie lets Steve pull his hands away, and he…there’s no other word for it, Eddie just absolutely lights up. It’s like Steve’s staring directly at the sun. Eddie is beaming up at him, his smile so wide that his eyes are basically closed. He has laugh lines, and Steve is already obsessed with them, already thinking of ways to make Eddie smile this wide, this radiant all the time.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve confirms. “Just ask Robin. I’ve been whining about it for weeks .”

Eddie laughs again, his grin not dimming in the slightest, and Steve just has to taste it—has to get his mouth around Eddie’s happiness. So, he swoops back in, feels Eddie’s laughter transfer to him via their connected mouths, feels a piece of himself that’s long been looking for a home finally slot into place.

#LOOK #i just think eddie is the type of person to say the most interesting facts at the worst possible time #and i think steve is kinda into that #idiot 4 idiot yknow?#anyway no idea where this came from #this fic struck me like a fever and would not leave until i purged it #so enjoy!#steddie #steddie fic rec #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson fic #steddie fan fiction #my writing

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

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Moves & Countermoves (Part 4)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Caesar’s audience goes wild over Katniss. The volunteering, the dry humor and the dress to top it off. It’s more than her mentors hoped for; huddled at the viewing screen, on the twelfth floor. The people will remember her.

“How’d I do?” Katniss asks, immediately upon return.

“You were wonderful,” Effie rejoices.

The brunette looks to Y/N, tucked up under Haymitch’s arm. “Better than anything Haymitch could have scripted for you.”

He wrestles Y/N closer in retaliation. “Nice work, sweetheart.”

Katniss hasn’t known them for a particularly long time, but it is odd to find them so entangled without cause. Is something wrong? She has no more than a moment to ponder; now Peeta is in the hot seat.

“So Peeta, tell me, is there a special girl back home?” The master of ceremonies grins.

“There is this one girl who I’ve had a crush on forever.” He admits with the crowd now wrapped around his finger.

“Well, surely if you win she’ll have to go out with you.” Caesar laughs.

“No, I don’t think winning’s gonna help me at all.” His easy smile is lost, now solemn in this confession.

“And why is that?”

“Because she came here with me.”

Haymitch huffs a laugh, “kid’s got a knack for this.”

“Well that’s bad luck, isn’t it?” Caesar laments.

“Yeah, it is.” Peeta lowers his gaze. Earning him a few sympathetic sighs.

“And I wish you all the best of luck. Peeta Mellark!”

The audience cheers him off stage. Sending an unsuspecting baker’s boy into the elevator to meet the fuming girl on fire.

“She’s gonna kill him.” Y/N warns Haymitch, in a whisper.

“Relax, he’s helping her.”

“I don’t think she sees it that way.” Y/N knows Katniss well enough by now.

Her fears are confirmed when Katniss clamps her hand around Peeta’s shoulder and shoves him up against the wall. “What the hell was that?”

“Ahhh!” Effie squeals at the sight. These people are savages.

“You don’t talk to me, then you say you have a crush on me? You say you wanna train alone? Is that how you wanna play? Huh?” Katniss seethes, keeping her partner pinned there.

Peeta does not fight, makes no move to free himself.

“Stop it,” Haymitch shouts. Watching Y/N peel Katniss off of Peeta.

“Let’s start right now!”

“Stop it!” Haymitch repeats. Taking Katniss by the arm so Y/N can check on Peeta.

“You ok?” She gives the boy a once over.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, still in shock.

“He did you a favor,” Haymitch explains. Strategically speaking, she should be thanking him.

“He made me look weak.”

“He made you look desirable. Which in your case, can’t hurt, sweetheart.”

“He’s right, Katniss,” Cinna steps in.

“Of course I’m right.” Only been doing this twenty-four damn years. “Now, we can sell the star crossed lovers from district twelve.” Haymitch reasons.

“We are not star crossed lovers!” Katniss lunges for Peeta again.

“It’s a television show!” Haymitch snaps. Feeling Y/N’s hand on his back, steadying him. “Being in love with that boy might just get you sponsors; which could save your damn life.”

“Let’s get to bed, hmm?” Y/N pats Peeta gently on the cheek. “Tomorrow is a big day.” She steps around her husband to give Katniss the same treatment.

“Good idea,” Haymitch decides. These kids will be the death of him. “Maybe we can deliver you both in one piece.”

————————————————————————

“You stay away from the cornucopia, it’s a bloodbath. Look for allies, water and high ground; remember what I taught you. They’ll show the fallen tributes in the sky each night, incase you lose count of the cannon.”

Peeta nods, hands clasped in Y/N’s as they approach ground level. Katniss is with Haymitch, in the adjacent elevator, receiving similar wisdom.

“If there’s no water, that’s where sponsors come in. We’ll send it as soon as we can.” Y/N tells him. Cover all your bases, this is your last chance.

“What about Katniss?”

“Same goes for Katniss, whatever you need, I’ll do my best to get.”

“I asked Haymitch to throw my sponsor’s money to Katniss.” Peeta tells his mentor. “Save her, for her sister.”

“You have people rooting for you too,” she says pointedly. “Never forget that. If you change your mind about the sponsors just say so.”

The doors open into the scorching sun near the launch pad.

Peeta steps out, still hanging loosely from one of Y/N’s hands. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Bring it in,” her arms open wide.

“Thank you, for everything.” Peeta hugs her, in parting.

“You’re welcome.” Y/N returns the embrace, just as tightly.

“I’m gonna make you proud.”

————————————————————————

“And that Claudius, is the familiar sound of cannon, symbolizing the end of another fallen tribute.” Caesar narrates.

Eight down in the blood bath.

Haymitch takes a steadying breath, the children beside them in the viewing room run about. Brother chasing sister with a toy sword while the parents look on and laugh.

Y/N is deep in conversation with Cashmere, paying them no mind. Pointing to the screen on occasion as they whisper amongst themselves.

The boy trips over his little sister, falling sword first against Cashmere’s back.

The blonde smiles, turning the plastic blade away, “you got me.”

The kids giggle and run off, leaving the parents to apologize. “We are so terribly sorry.”

“No worries.” The blonde is not here to mentor and doesn’t want to draw anymore attention. Excusing herself after a moment.

“Everything ok?” Haymitch asks.

Y/N nods, eyes trained on the monitor.

Haymitch knows better than to push for information she isn’t ready to give. Instead he focuses on the positive, Katniss and Peeta are still alive.

The boy forming an alliance with the careers. Stupid…smart if it doesn’t get him killed. The girl forging a path away from the excitement, she wants to go it alone. Stupid of a different variety.

In the games you pick your poison.

Part 5

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k

#haymitch abernathy #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

Note

Can I get Steve and Hawkins but Hawkins has a bad day and Steve just holds her in his lap and kisses her and cuddles her and just tell her how much he loves her

Steve knew something wasn’t right when you walked into his room after work that evening.

But despite the way your relationship had changed over the years, one fact still remained true, even when you were together. You were stubborn. Not horrendously so, just enough where you needed a little convincing, usually from a soft touch, softer words, things Steve was happy to give you.

On better days, when you’d smirk and him and tilt your chin up, eyes flashing and words a little teasing, he’d fuck it out of you. Giving you the same treatment back as he pushed you into his bed or backed you onto his desk, dragging down your underwear whilst he held your gaze, grinning as you both waited to see who’d break first.

(Honestly, it was usually him. But there was something so unbelievably satisfying when he got you to the point of begging him to go touch you.)

This wasn’t one of those days. You looked tired and a little sad when you dropped your bag on his desk chair, mumbling a soft greeting then held little enthusiasm. Steve frowned at the sound of it, pushing himself up from where he’d been lazing on his bed with print outs of apartment listings.

“Hey,” he frowned at you, concern etched into the space between his eyebrows. “S’wrong?”

He watched you shrug, swiping at your eye with a hand. Here it came, the stubbornness. He saw it before it happened, could sense it in the set of your shoulders, the way you tried to keep your lip an even line.

“Nothing,” you replied, toeing off you sneakers and avoiding his gaze.

Steve waited.

“Little tired,” you finally said again, mentioning it casually as it it wasn’t written all over your face. “Bad day.”

“Yeah?” Steve hummed, voice kind. “Sorry, baby.”

He knew not to push too much, not yet. He had to work at you a little first, soften you, get his hands on you and make you melt. You shrugged again and leant against his desk, a small distance between you both that Steve decided just wouldn’t do.

“S’not your fault,” you told him, blinking plainly. Steve knew that if

you stayed where you were for much longer, stubbornness would give way to upset and you’d crack the wrong way. He hated when you cried. “Stupid manager, y’know?” Your voice wobbled.

Steve nodded, eyes soft on you. “I know.” He held out a hand, moving to the edge of the bed and swinging his legs over. He gestured to you, gaze trained on the way your shoulders drooped and you worried at your bottom lip with your teeth. “C’mere, princess.”

You sniffed and relented immediately, crossing the small space to take the boy’s hand and you let yourself be folded into his embrace. Steve pulled you between his knees and let his hands sit on the backs of your thighs, warm even through your jeans.

“Day off tomorrow?” He asked like he didn’t have your schedule that week memorised. He had to work, unfortunately, but he was pretty sure he could negotiate an earlier finish. You nodded, chin tucked to your chest as you held into your last bit of fight. “Wanna rent some movies? I’ll treat us to pizza on the way home.”

Steve wished he could’ve taken the day off with you altogether, but the want for an apartment together was high, and you both needed all the savings you could afford to store away. It’s why you were so tired, doing too much overtime with your shitty manager.

You nodded, your hands coming up to wind into his hair at the nape of his neck. You sighed, a release, eyes losing their hard gaze that had settled over them after a ten hour shift. “Please,” you whispered and your voice was like honey, sticky sweet. “Sounds nice.”

Steve hummed his agreement, kneading at the dough of your thighs and you leaned into him, head dropping forward to rest on top of his and you made a soft noise of delight.

“Yeah?” Steve asked.

You weren’t sure what he meant but you agreed anyway, nodding and pushing into him further. The boy grinned, having successfully gotten you to the point of putty against him. He tapped at the curve of your ass, head lifting so his nose brushed your chin and he smiled at the way your eyes were all sleepy, softer, just for him.

“Can I get a kiss?”

You answered with your lips pressed to his, a sigh leaving your chest as you did, ‘cause Steve’s mouth was a warm push against your own, gentle and grounding. It was a lazy kiss, one that made you melt into him further, ice cream on a hot day. You pushed your way onto his lap, knees splayed apart over his thighs and the crook of Steve’s neck was the perfect place for you to hide your face.

“Love you,” Steve murmured and you’d never get over the way he said those words, soft and sincere and with a kiss against your temple.

You wrapped your arms around him a little tighter, a soft noise coming from your throat at the sweetness of it all and it made Steve grin, victorious.

“Love you too, Stevie.”

…

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #stranger things fic #camp blurb

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bluejaysandblackbats · 5 months

Text

Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn’t die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 17/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake, Donna Troy

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Seventeen: The Campaign: Malatra Pt. 1

Tim slept in his bed one last time while I packed our things. My phone rang, and I answered to keep from waking Tim up. “Hello?” I whispered.

“Jason, I heard about your friend’s mother—.”

“You don’t have to say anything… Um, Barbara, can I ask you for a favor?” I interrupted.

“I don’t know. It depends… Is it illegal?” Barbara asked.

“No. It’s—. I need you to help me get back in fighting shape. I know Bruce won’t change his mind because I can throw a couple of solid punches, but I’ve gotta do this for myself. I need to know I didn’t let the accident beat me,” I explained. I told her as much of the truth as I could.

“Jason… Wednesday through Friday after school. No excuses,” Barbara replied. I grinned.

“I’ll be there. I promise,” I whispered, “Thank you. Thank you, Barbara. You’re the best.” Barbara was a tough person to move. She wasn’t emotionally driven or faint of heart. Barbara was sharp and efficient. Practical and poised. She was everything I needed in a teacher.

“ Yeah, yeah, yeah. See how you feel about me after our first training session. Bye, Jason… And good on you for getting back up. I thought about what I said to you the last time we talked. I was wrong to tell you that you were being childish. If taking this time away from home was good for your mental health, who am I to tell you—?”

“Barbara, I am a kid. I never said I wasn’t. I was pissed off and closed in, and I reacted. I was in a dark place, and I’d be lying if I said I wanted to go home now… I know it’s what I have to do. I’m gonna be mature about it, for Tim’s sake,” I replied, “I’ve gotta finish packing… But, um—. Thank you, Barbara.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Boy Wonder. See you Wednesday,” Barbara teased. She hung up, and I shook Tim awake.

He pushed my face away and laughed. “ Uggghhh. Jason, what are you doing?” Tim asked.

“She’s gonna train me. Wednesday through Friday, so we’ll condition Saturday through Monday,” I replied. Tim grinned.

“And on Tuesday ?” Tim half-joked.

“Warlocks and Warriors,” I replied, “And—. Oh, Ives wants to come over tonight. I gave him Bruce’s address and said he could stay the night.”

“Ives wanted to hang out? Does he—?”

I nodded. “Ives knows, but I asked him not to mention it… Unless…” I trailed off. Tim shook his head. “Then, he won’t…” I tied labels to Tim’s chargers and tucked them into his suitcase.

We went to the manor at sunset because I knew Bruce wouldn’t be there. Alfred seemed happy to see us again. Ives showed up an hour after we got there, and Alfred served dinner. “Hey, guys… Do you wanna do another campaign here this weekend?” I asked.

Tim’s eyes widened. “You want to?” Tim questioned. I nodded.

“That’d be sick,” Ives replied.

“Cool. Tell the guys Tuesday we’ll hang out here,” I replied. Ives glanced at Tim and looked at his plate when he saw me looking. Tim was oblivious to everything going on in his life because of everything.

“Jason should DM this one,” Tim suggested. I choked. “Come on. You can do it. I see how deep you get into character. And you’re the only person willing to indulge Hudson. Besides, I think the guys are still mad at me for what happened in Ravenloft.”

“That was messed up. I can’t believe you killed Ives first and swapped him out with a Doppelganger. That was sick. And Ives… I’m shocked you let him go through with that,” I replied.

Tim smiled. I reached for my bed to pull myself up, but I felt a shockwave shoot down my back into my legs, and I let go of the mattress. “Jason?” Tim asked.

“I’m okay… But like—. Are you guys sure you want me to DM?” I questioned.

“Yeah, definitely,” Ives replied, “You’ve gotta try it at least once. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again, but you should give it a chance. You might be good.”

"In the living forest lands of Malatra, all seems quiet. Suspiciously so. A warm breeze blows, rustling through the canopies overhead. Topiaries of smiling children surround a small fire. It is the only possible sign of life for several miles. A song breaks through the near-silent forest. It starts low and guttural, like a collective groan, and then the ethereal choral collections of synchronized sobs. It is a song of mourning. A once-distant sound, now building as if it is approaching. The forest's dirt walkways slowly disappear under shrubs and bushes, and it seems like a trick to the eye at first, but no. You see it now. The bushes have feet where roots should be, and finally, a male voice breaks through the grieving chorus," I cleared my throat. "State your business," I bellowed. "He steps forward. A bamboo elf. His hair is a warm brown with the same red undertones of autumn leaves. He keeps his hair in wide and intricate waves and curls. His skin is an olivine green, and his eyes dark brown and ancient, study you. You all recognize this bamboo elf immediately, but before we get into that… you should introduce yourselves." A big, goofy grin spread across Tim's face. Silence fell over my room as I waited for someone to speak.

"You fucking killed it," Hudson mumbled in shock. I covered my smile. "Clay Everlake, earth genasi monk here. I'm stone grey, with bright green hair made of leaves, with the front pulled into a warrior's bun—."

"Man bun penalty!" everyone shouted.

"Is not! Anyway ... It's a warrior's bun, and the rest of my hair hangs leafy down my shoulders. I'm fairly young, rough and tumble, and trouble seems to follow me wherever I go," Hudson answered.

I gestured to Ives. "Eldrid Deepwood, here. I'm a firbolg druid... I uh—. I have bluish-green skin and dark eyes. My hair is whiteish-grey, luscious, and thick, almost mane-like. My ears are floppy... And uh—. And despite my advanced age, I'm a timid sort of fella," Ives stammered in an Irish accent.

I nodded and pointed to Hudman. "Fettar Keephorn. Dwarven rogue, dark beard, dark brown eyes. My loyalties lie with Clay Everlake... Unfortunately," Hudman muttered in a dry voice. We all laughed. "I'm not much for words."

And Tim. I looked forward to Tim's character because we'd been pretty hush-hush about our plans all week, which meant we had nothing to discuss outside of training. "Posy Moonfall, gnome cleric here. I've got blond shoulder-length hair and grey eyes hidden behind foggy glasses. Well, they're usually quite—. I'm not used to being in the presence of a man of Mr. Deepwood's stature. I'm clumsy, but my intuitive nature makes up for my shortcomings... At least, I think—. Oh gosh. Am I rambling?" Tim replied in a woman's voice. He was surprisingly good at it. I almost forgot my place.

I cleared my throat before continuing. "Clay Everlake, your connection to this bamboo elf is deeply personal. Isn't it?" I asked, nodding at him. I liked Hudson. He always made me laugh and was my favorite of Tim's friends. He also tried to make me feel better about my scars by showing me the dent in his forehead. It wasn't the same, but he genuinely thought it was.

"He raised me. When my family was slaughtered on the outskirts of Malatra, he took me in and raised me. He's a father to me," Hudson answered. Hudson and I locked eyes, and I smiled down at my notes. "I didn't expect to see him under such grim circumstances."

"And Fettar?" I questioned.

"The elf and I… used to date,” Hudman replied. We all laughed.

“Fettar and Theren Everlake dated? You guys were—.”

“A couple. Yep,” Hudman doubled down.

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thelampisaflashlight · 1 year

Text

Calm Me Down

[A little bonus ficlet about where Lamb went after their encounter with Rain. Feat. Copia and Special.] Below the cut.

"Ah, Agnello, I was wondering when you would be back." Copia smiles as Lamb shuffles through the door to his office, frowning when he sees the tear tracks running down their cheeks, "Oh, Angello... Come here, come to Papa."

He holds his hands out for the ghoul, who wanders over and climbs onto his lap without hesitation, making themself as small as possible, tail tucked round them protectively.

Copia rubs their back.

"Did you get frightened by something, little one, huh?" he asks, "Or maybe you're just tired, yes? A late night will do that to you..."

Lamb chirps in response.

"Is that it? You're tired?" Copia hums, "Or is it because you bit Rain earlier, huh?"

Lamb tenses, but Copia pats them gently.

"You're not in trouble, and I know Rain told you as much." he says, "The siblings were just worried about you, for you really... Can you tell me what happened? Why you bit him?"

"...Didn't know he was there." Lamb mumbles into Copia's lapel, squishing down even more into themself.

"Ahh..." the older man nods, "You were sleeping, it's only natural you didn't know."

"...Bad..." Lamb says, "Bad, bad, bad."

"Not bad." he assures them, "Why would you think..."

"...Dangerous." they whine, "Sleep."

Copia repeats the words Lamb has said and gives them a little squeeze, "It's different here."

"It's different here." he says, "No one will get hurt or go away because you went to sleep. No one will hurt you either..."

"Papa..."

"Yes?"

"The papa before..."

"Agnello..." Copia closes his eyes, "That was not your fault."

"Omega..."

"Knows you weren't involved. He never blamed you."

"Was asleep..." Lamb whimpers, "Shouldn't sleep... Scary..."

"It's alright." Copia shushes them, reaching into one of his desk drawers, shuffling through the junk crammed inside until he finds his phone...

"It's alright."

...and calls someone more suited to comforting the poor traumatized ghoul in his arms.

"You know, you call me to your office so little, people are starting to speculate that we might be the same person." Special teases, "I'm obviously more handsome, but I digress... Well, give."

He does grabby hands towards Lamb, who is still very much curled up in Papa's lap.

The man sighs and shifts slightly to allow Special to pick up the little ghoul, who whines at the loss of contact, but calms almost instantly when Special nuzzles the top of their head.

"...How bad is it?" the older ghoul asks, adjusting his hold on Lamb.

"Terzo." Papa supplies, and Special nods gravely.

"Very bad then." he says, pausing when Lamb whimpers, "Not you. You're not bad. You're in a bad state, but not bad."

"They bit Rain."

"Ooohhh~ Naughty." Special cackles, "Ehn, those band ghouls can take a couple nibbles now and then. They don't fight nearly enough."

"And you do?" Papa questions, raising an eyebrow, assessing the string bean of a ghoul standing before him.

"Why fight my battles for myself when I have Cowbell?" he quips, "I'm Work smarter not harder, yes? Anyway, I'll be taking this little sheep with me."

"Make sure they sleep!" Papa calls as Special kicks the door shut behind himself, "Satanas..."

Special hums and adjusts the ball of ghoul in his arms.

"Let's get you to bed, yeah?"

He presses a small kiss to the top of their head, making Lamb grumble.

"Ah-ah-ah, none of that!" Special scolds, "You're going to take a nap with Bells and I."

"Don't wanna... you guys stink."

"So do you, little sheep."

"Not napping with ghouls..."

"I'm sure you've heard it a million times, Baa-Baa, but you, too, are a ghoul, and you're really missing out on a lot of snuggle piles not letting yourself embrace it." Special pouts, then grins devilishly, "Maybe that's why you're so stubborn, you want to be snuggled by a special ghoul that isn't moi, hm~? Maybe a certain water ghoul who you can't seem to keep from-YEOUCH!"

#lamp writes #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #special ghoul #copia #papa emeritus iv #ghost band oc #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #nameless ghoul oc

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croimilis · 2 years

Text

✴ 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭

the top gun maverick character taking care of you when you’re drunk

❊ characters: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, jake ‘hangman’ seresin, robert ‘bob’ floyd,

❊ warnings: alcohol consumption, drunknenes, mentions of makeup and hells but no specific pronouns used, established relationship

❊ word count: listed with each character

❊ a/n: the inspiration for this comes from the fact that I was drunk and wanted nothing more than one of the top gun characters (and my boyfriend) to look after me. i also loved doing this type of writing, it was really helpful for preventing burnout with my longer pieces, and i am open for headcanon requests.

✾ bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw [375]

the biggest baby when you’re leaving. pouts and gives you puppy dog eyes as you’re leaving to try and get you not to leave but will still give you a kiss as you walk out the door or as he drops you off. he will text you throughout the night to make sure your safe and happy and the minute you text him saying you wanna go home or if there is any change in the way your texting that puts him on edge, he’s immediately leaving to go and pick you up wherever you may be. when he collects you, he’s all goofy smiles and sweet forehead kisses as he gently ushers you into the car, saying his goodbyes to your friends and checking in to make sure they all have ways home and even offering to drop them home if they don’t. what happens when you get in the car depends, if you’re hungry and need something greasy that just hits the spot Rooster will not hesitate to take you to get food, but if you just wanna go home and get into bed then he’ll head there straight away. when you do get home, he watches amused as you struggle to get your heels off, stumbling through the hall and into the living room where you slump onto the sofa and start fighting with the flimsy strap but he wouldn’t let you struggle for long, bending down beside you and taking your shoes off for you placing a gentle kiss to your ankle as he does. he would then, despite your protests, carry you to the bedroom bridal style and place you gently on the bed, turning around to let you take your clothes off while he grabs your favourite pyjamas from the drawer, if you’re struggling with zipers or buttons bradley will gladly help you. once your changed and tucked under the bed he goes and fills up a glass of water and grabs some advil, which he places on the bedside table on your side with a sweet kiss to your forehead. he then gets into bed beside you, where he holds you close to his chest and rubs gentle circles on your arms to help you get to sleep.

✾ jake ‘hangman’ seresin [556 words]

much like bradley, jake is pouting and whining and trying to make you stay, even going so far as to pull you in for a deep kiss and messing up your lipstick just before you leave, which earns him a slap to the shoulder before you go and fix it. he’ll even come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, placing soft kisses on your neck and shoulder, smirking to himself because he thinks he’s won. but then you turn and press a soft kiss to his check, leaving behind a lipstick stain and suddenly your out the door and he’s left gobsmacked. and isn’t that he doesn’t want you to go out with your friends, he wants you to go have fun and let loose a little you just looked so damn good in your outfit and heels and he may have wanted you all to himself for the night just so he could ravish you. nevertheless, jake sits with his feet up watching an old movie with his phone on his chest so he could feel it vibrate, checking it every time it does to see if you’ve text him or are calling him to come pick you up. once the text asking him to pick you up comes through, he’s out the door like a shot and at your location as quick as possible. when he gets there, he’s has a smug little smile on his face as he remembers all the time you’ve chastised him for being too drunk and now here you are, just as bad or maybe even worse than he’s ever been and he is so not gonna let you forget that in the morning, in fact he takes photos and videos of your drunk ramblings so he has proof (that he quickly deletes the next morning when you ask him to). once he’s had his fun and said goodbye to your friends, he helps you into the car and buckles your belt for you. as he drives, he’ll take your hand in his and rub gentle circles over your knuckles while the other is on the steering and he listens intently as you ramble about the drama in the morning (storing the information away to get a more coherent story in the morning time), and when he pulls up to your home (even if you’re fully awake and coherent) he will throw you over his shoulder and carry you into your home. before he puts you to bed, he places you on the counter in the bathroom and takes your makeup off for you, peppering you with gentle kisses as he does, and brushes your hair for you so it isn’t a tangled mess in the morning. when that’s all done, he helps you out of your heels and outfit (throwing it into the washing basket in the bathroom) before carrying you koala-style into the bedroom and gently placing you on the bed where your pyjamas are already lead out. though he knows you can dress yourself, he helps. once your dressed, he crawls into bed with you and holds you against his chest where you fall asleep listening to his heartbeat. it isn’t until the morning that he realises he didn’t leave out water and painkillers, but he’s lucky he’s awake before you and their sitting there when you finally wake in the morning.

✾ robert ‘bob’ floyd [473 words]

bob is the sweetest man, giving you gentle kisses before you go out and being so careful so he doesn’t mess up your makeup and i think out of all of them, bob is the most prepared when you go out drinking. before you even leave the house, you agree on a time for him to come and pick you up and if you want him to come earlier you have a code word that you text him and he will be there as quick as he can. in both cases, he’s throwing your comfiest pyjamas into the tumble dryer before he leaves the house so their nice and warm for you coming in and he’s already filled your favourite bottle with water and ice and put in the fridge, he’s double checking to make sure you have pain killers in your medicine drawer and if you don’t he’s stopping at one of those 24hr stores to pick some up because he knows you’ll need some in the morning. when he arrives at the club or bar where your drinking, he’s quick to find you and guide you outside to the car with his arms wrapped around your waist and carefully sits you in the care, legs sticking out so he can take your shoes of for you. once your shoes are off, he's throwing them into the back seat to be tomorrows problem and buckling you into the car. while he drives, he has a hand on your thigh, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb as a reminder for you that he was there. unlike bradley, he will not take you to get food but will insist on getting you home and into bed but he promises to order in the greasiest breakfast he can find in the morning. once your home, almost asleep in the passenger side, he scoops you up into his arms and carries you into the house and straight into bed where he lets you undress while he grabs your pyjamas out of the tumble dryer and brings them to you, again leaving you to get dresses in peace while he grabs the water bottle from the fridge and two pain killers for the morning. when he gets back into the room, you’re curled up tightly under the blanket and struggling to keep your eyes open so he just places the water and pain killers on the bedside before placing a soft kiss on your forehead before going into the bathroom and grabbing on of your makeup wipes, which he uses to rub most of your makeup of as gently as he can once he’s done he starts preparing for bed himself. by the time he crawls in, your already fast asleep, but he’s quick to wrap his arms around you and bring your back into his chest.

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writerpey · 6 months

Text

Cg!Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven & Regressor!John ‘Bucky’ Egan Headcanons

masters of the air was so good I had to write something for this pair. happy series finale, everyone! sad it’s over but so happy with the show, it totally blew my expectations out of the water. pls enjoy & request more of them if u want! & please be careful reading this if you’re sensitive to the topics of the show. take care of yourselves, everyone <3

John keeps his regression tucked away from the others at Thorpe Abbotts as a secret little part of himself that, before Gale found out about it, he wished he could drop straight out of a B-17. He tried to deal with things the way all his comrades did. He drank, slept around, got into fights with the British soldiers at the bar and placed bets on the Yankees against the Cubs. It just wasn’t enough. It felt close to enough when Gale would wrap a hand around the back of his neck and drag him away from a stupid midnight decision, or when he’d be drunk enough for Gale to walk him to his bunk and help him tug off his boots with a familiar sigh.

Gale could tell when John was close to a breaking point, when his best friend was itching at his own skin and antsy to get in a plane and out of one at the same time. He knew something was different about John, especially when it would get late and John’s eyes would glaze over and he would refuse to leave Gale’s side. Gale had an inkling that sometimes John acted out just to get his attention. And when Meatball would run over John would gasp happily, the joy of a little boy emanating from his excitement.

Gale climbed out of bed one night after seeing John’s was empty, throwing on his jacket and stepping outside. Sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, John was sniffling, hands rubbing at his eyes and shoulders shaking.

“Bucky? What’s goin’ on?” Gale questioned gently, concerned for his friend and ready to take any step necessary to comfort John.

John was terribly embarrassed that night. Sniffled and cried and blubbered unintelligibly to Gale about a fog in his brain that wouldn’t go away until he felt like a kid again. That Gale made it worse, but better, and he was so fucked in the head for being like this and—

Gale stopped John’s negativity in an instant. “Bucky. It’s okay. I’m here for you. You know that, I know that. That’s all that matters.”

The pair fell into step with one another with the ease expected for two soulmates. It took a lot of coaxing from Gale to get John to not only tell him when he was feeling small, but to encourage him to regress more often to avoid all the bad decisions that came with John not dealing with war trauma properly.

John had come back to his bunk one night with a bleeding nose from an escapade in town, and the lecture he got from Gale was enough to make him regress instantly. He looked up at Gale with big, apologetic eyes while Gale’s steady hands wiped away the blood under his nose with a damp rag. “Sorry, Buck. Shouldn’t have been bad.”

As a caregiver, Gale is very accustomed to John’s needs and loves to dote on him, though he’s never afraid to pull rank on the other. His stern tone carries an air of disappointment to John when it’s necessary, which serves to make John regress fairly easily.

John has a lot of energy when he’s small, well-rested, and knows his group isn’t going to be called on mission for a couple of days. He’ll tear around base on his bike and steal extra eggs from Lemmons at breakfast, play fight with Gale and beg Curt, Rosie and Croz to play a game of baseball together. He’s at his happiest when he can be as carefree as he wants while everyone except Gale has no idea he feels small.

Gale has to work hard to reign in John on those kinds of days. “Bucky, no. You can’t take without asking. I don’t wanna hear that you’re hungry. You ate a dozen eggs.”

John is a super touchy person in general, and when he’s small he’ll literally hang off whatever part of Gale he can get a hand on. Throwing himself over Gale’s shoulders at mealtimes. Clutching the back of Gale’s jacket while running away from Curt. Trying to stick his finger up Gale’s nose for no apparent reason. He likes to annoy Gale, a little shit-disturber at heart.

On harder days for John, fresh off a mission, he gets far more needy. Gale’s heart always breaks in his chest when he wakes up to John making small noises of distress in the night. He often wakes him up with soft shushing and his hand stroking through John’s dark curls. “Just a dream, Bucky. I got you.” Gale whispers, even while knowing that truly, they lived out their nightmares. But the deep timbre of Gale’s voice and his steadying presence always soothes John, who often stretches his arms out to be pulled into Gale’s lap.

Gale really likes when John is especially small. He flushed red the first time he asked John if “maybe, you would let me read you a story?” Gale loves the quiet, intimate moments they get to have together, tucked up in a B-17 with The Hobbit in hand and the sun setting, whisked away to another world even just for a few moments. He feels untouchable with John’s head under his chin and the sound of Lemmons tapping away under the hull of the plane.

When it comes to nicknames, Gale isn’t the most creative person in the world. And quite frankly, if he even dared to call John something too sappy, John would explode from embarrassment. So Gale sticks to Bucky most of the time, but Johnny also made its way into his vocabulary. John’s ears go red and he grins very, very widely when Gale taps him under the chin with a gentle utterance of “Good Johnny.”

John calls Gale a plethora of names. They range from Buck to old man to a very shy Papa, only when John is super small and feeling especially brave. It makes Gale cover his face in kisses.

All in all, Gale is an attentive, kind, thoughtful caregiver who is stern when he needs go be with the little rascal that John is. And John is a fireball when regressed, but in desperate need of the care that Gale is always, always willing to give him.

#mota #mota fic #mota agere #masters of the air #gale cleven #john egan #gale x john #sfw agere #sfw agere fic #mota headcanons #age regression #little space #austin butler #callum turner

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angrelysimpping · 2 years

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do u maybe think it’d be possible to get,,m! remy with a sweet cattle pc who really likes cuddling and sitting in his lap but theyre always too scared to ask or take the initiative,, idk maybe it takes an nsfw turn but that’s really up 2 u,,

DoL Relationships; AMAB Remy (he/him); GN Reader (you/your); hybrids; cow tf; milk talk but no straight-up lactation; dry humping; is Remy maybe too soft? perhaps; I wanna say Reader probably has Stockholm Syndrom; Reader refers to Remy as ‘Master’

Words: 1897

Cold.

That's your first thought as you wake, groggily rubbing at your eyes as you struggle to sit up in a bed of hay. You're cold.

You can't remember the last time you were cold, the sun constantly warming your back as you roamed the fields. Even on bitter winter nights, you were warm, tucked up in the barn.

You're not in the fields now. Nor the barn. You're in a small, windowless stone room, one you have vague memories of. You’ve been here before, you think. You shrink in on yourself as you start to remember the last time you were here. You’d been bad then. Had fought with some of the farmhands and passed out.

You didn’t do that anymore. You still ducked out of the farmhand’s reach, but you didn’t fight, you didn’t push yourself too hard. You didn’t want to spoil your milk or upset your Master Remy.

A burly man stands next to the doorway, holding the only source of light: a flaming torch. You shudder under his gaze, your tail twisting around you to cover your crotch. Light from the flickering flame cast shadows over his face, making his expression unreadable, but you recognize him. He's tried slipping into your stall before. Master Remy doesn't like when the farmhands do that, but it's happened more than once.

Shuffling away from the man, you try to put as much distance between you as you can in the cramped room. You end up with your back pressed against the cold wall as you keep your eyes on him. He chuckles at your blatant distrust, taking a menacing step forward before freezing as a sound comes from the doorway.

Soft light slowly illuminates a set of steep stone stairs as someone descends them holding a lantern.

You perk up as you recognize your Master as he comes into view. You want to run to him, but hold yourself back. Your Master doesn’t like you being overly affectionate with him, not when there are others around.

Since accepting your place in the herd, you’ve been rather affectionate with Remy. Nuzzling into his hand whenever he'd pet you. Followed his every order with a sweet smile and a moo. He thinks it's cute. He might have even given you a little extra attention from time to time. Maybe even spent some of his precious little free time looking out over the fields, watching you laze in the sun.

What does it matter, really? He doesn't think it could hurt anyone, in the grand scheme of things.

It’s not uncommon for the beasts to get attached to him. He’s their Master, after all. He keeps them safe and well-fed. But none of them are half as affectionate as you. Some of his farmhands have been saying that Remy’s going soft, letting you get so attached. They’re careful not to let Remy overhear, not unless they want to find out if he's just as willing to use his whip on his employees as he is on the cattle.

With you being such a docile, obedient beastie, it was a surprise when the farmhands came to him, saying you had passed out in the fields. What did you get yourself into? Cattle don’t just pass out for no reason, after all.

But he’d looked you over from toe to tip and you seemed fine. Mostly. A few bruises on your thighs in the shape of hands gave him pause, but that's something to look into later.

With a wave of his hand, Remy dismisses the burly man. The moment the man leaves, you relax, rushing to Remy's side. Another thing to look into, perhaps.

Remy runs a hand over your hair, “Gave us quite the fright.”

Your ears droop, but you still press into his touch. You don't like upsetting your Master Remy, don't like the crease between his brows or how the corners of his mouth twitch into a frown.

"Found you passed out in the fields, a stress response." You shiver as he focuses on the spot behind your ear. “You need to stop worrying. You’re safe here. I thought you knew that.”

You nod, giving a soft moo.

Remy sighs, glancing over to the door. He probably shouldn’t do this, but you’re such a good beastie and you always give so much milk. He could explain it away easily under those pretenses, though he knows a pair of blonds who would give him never-ending shit if they found out.

Weighing the pros and cons, Remy finally caves, sitting in the hay bed and pulling you into his lap. You sigh, content as you make yourself comfortable in your Master’s lap. It’s rare that your Master is so overly affectionate with you. Even though you crave his attention, you always wait for him to give the much-coveted affections of his own accord.

You make yourself comfortable in his lap; press into him and inhale as deeply as possible. He smells good. He always smells good. Crisp and clear. Grass and apples and leather and musk. Remy laughs, the sound making your heart flutter.

“Silly beast,” he mutters, continuing to pet you as you relax into him. “Maybe you’re too delicate for the fields.”

You stiffen, confused at what he means. Too delicate for the fields? Would he get rid of you? A tiny sound of panic escapes you as you try to press closer to your Master. You don’t want him to get rid of you. There was a time, long ago, when you raged against him. Not anymore. You can't imagine a life without him now.

Remy chuckles at your distressed whine, easily manhandling you so you’re sitting with your back to his chest. You let out a startled moo as your Master’s hands stroke over your thighs, one gloved hand cupping your sex.

You squirm, trying to turn to give Remy a questioning look. You can't. Remy keeps you still in his lap, back firmly pressed against his solid chest.

“Relax, pretty,” Remy coos, hot breath making your soft ear twitch. “You’re safe here.”

Melting into your Master’s touch, you forget your worries as his skilled fingers brush over your groin. You can’t remember if your Master has ever milked you by hand before. Surely you would remember something like that, right?

Gradually, Remy’s movements become more pointed, making you squirm in his lap. A strong arm wraps around your middle, keeping you from moving too much, from chasing your own pleasure, as he toys with you.

"M-My milk?"

Remy hums in acknowledgment, pulling his hand away from your groin and holding it out in front of you. There’s something strange about seeing your fluids, your milk, on your Master’s gloved hand.

“Don’t worry silly thing, I won’t waste a single drop of your precious milk.”

Remy brings his hand to his mouth, licking the leather clean.

Watching his slender fingers disappear past his lips, your stomach does a flip. For a second, it feels like you're going to combust from that sight alone. You sit stock still, hardly daring to breathe, heat burning through you as he withdraws his fingers from his mouth, glove dragging on his bottom lip, saliva glistening on the leather.

The farmer chuckles at your dazed expression, your mouth slightly agape. Before you can collect yourself, he drags his fingers over your lips before pressing in. You don’t think, sucking on the digits without a second thought.

“Good beastie.”

You hum around his fingers at his praise.

Remy swears under his breath, cock pressing against his trousers uncomfortably as you moan low, tongue-twisting around his fingers. The arm he’s had wrapped around your middle now shifts, allowing him to tuck his hand between your thighs and resume his earlier attention while keeping your mouth preoccupied.

It’s not long before you’re bucking into Remy’s hand, milk coating his palm as you moan around his fingers. You’re very, very close to your peak, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as you try to get that last little bit you need to go over the edge.

Remy moves forward, manhandling you until you’re on your hands and knees, his chest pressing against your back, fingers still firmly tucked in your mouth and hand between your legs. He’s breathing heavily as rocks forward experimentally, grinding against your ass. Your tail thrashes violently, adding to the friction, and making him shudder. It’s with a hazy mind that he brushes his lips against your shoulder before biting down, muffling his own groans as he starts to rut against you in earnest.

It’s too much. Your Master’s teeth in your skin, his scent surrounding you, his hand between your legs, his hips meeting your ass, his cock rutting against you. All of it, too much. Too deliciously much.

You cum, milk gushing into Remy’s hand and painting the floor. Normally you’d be held upright by the milking machines during something like this, your arms going weak with the intensity of your orgasm. The only thing that keeps you from crumpling to the floor is your Master, one strong arm wrapped around your middle and the other across your chest, as he holds you tight, continuing to rut against you.

Idly, you continue to suck on your Master’s fingers, basking in the afterglow of your high. Remy stills behind you, pressing against you, hips twitching as he reaches his own end.

He stays pressed against you like that for a moment before sitting back on the hay bed, careful of your mess, and pulling you back into his lap. You let out a soft whine as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, the sound quickly dying as he cups the side of your head, pressing your face against his chest as he holds you.

It’s a solid minute of silence in the small stone room, the only sound Remy’s labored breathing as he tries to collect himself. He had only meant to milk you, to calm you in a way. Not…do all that. Or this, keeping you here with your head pressed to his chest.

The small amount of anger in him building at the situation flickers out as he glances down at you, eyes shut and a sweet smile on your lips as you listened to his heartbeat. With a sigh, Remy moves you from his lap, your small whimper of disappointment making his chest ache.

“Enough of that,” he mutters, harsh words lessened by his soft tone. Remy gets to his feet as you remain on the bed of hay, obediently awaiting your Master’s orders. “Was right about you not being fit for the fields.”

Your ears droop, heart sinking at his words and mind racing. Had you disappointed him? How? Had you-

Before you can start to panic, Remy pulls you to your feet, clipping a lead to your collar. “Too delicate for all that. A special room in the manor is better suited to your needs.”

You perk up. He wasn’t getting rid of you! Your Master wasn’t getting rid of you! With an ecstatic moo, you butt your head softly against his chest, pulling a chuckle from the farmer.

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up. Can’t have my best producer walking around dirty now.”

With an eager nod, you follow your Master Remy as he leads you from the room.

#degrees of lewdity #remy the farmer #tw hybrids #cw hybrids #cow tf

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moonlit-orchid · 2 years

Text

You got what you wanted, DRAMA >:) Enjoy!

Don had kept up his act for as long as the kids were awake, pretending to act normal, act like nothing was different, and Eliphas too had kept up an act.

But the kids weren't awake now.

There was nothing holding Don back as he approached Eliphas, an icy glare in his eyes, far from the carefree father he was barely half an hour ago when he took the kids to bed. And Eliphas was scared. Don could see it, he had seen it since he'd walked in with Astral, with his son, and their eyes had met, telling him all he knew.

"How could you? How dare you?" Don whispered. It was scarier than a yell. Eliphas would have rathered Don yelled at him. "Not only did you force me off my own throne, you lied to me about the lives of those I love, and then you took my child and used him against me."

"...you were dangerous," Eliphas said quietly. He was terrified, and he couldn't meet Don's gaze. This wasn't Don his annoying roommate and ex-evil overlord, this was Adonis, Emperor of Astral World and the most powerful being alive, this was who this man was now. And he terrified Eliphas.

"I was dangerous. The excuse you've used for centuries. I was dangerous, was I?" Don asked sarcastically. "So why the hell did you send my child after me?"

Eliphas stuttered, trying to voice his reasons, the explanations, but he couldn't speak. "I...he... he was the best suited to-"

"He was twelve!" Don yelled, and Eliphas jumped back. "He was only twelve years old! Twelve, Eliphas, twelve You took my baby boy and turned him into your machine, and he was only twelve!"

"What did you expect me to do?! Who else could stand up to you?!" Eliphas shouted back. "You were insane!"

"If I was insane it was because you betrayed me and pushed me to the edge!" Don shouted. "Yes, yes, I was insane! And yet you sent him after me! You sent a baby to go fight a god! You sent that baby boy multiple times to go fight demons!"

"He is not an infant, Don! There is no time for childhood in war. And at 17 he's old enough to fight!" Eliphas yelled defensively.

"He's thirteen!" Thunder crashed outside with Don's yell, reminding Eliphas of his power. "Thirteen!"

"H-he is not!"

"You think you know better than I? I, who sired him and raised him and love him more than anything in any world?" Don demanded. "That child is thirteen!"

"And so what?" Eliphas snapped. "What difference does it make? Have you forgotten that we were considered adult by 14? You were but 16 when you married Ena, and a little later the boy was born."

"That never made it right!" Don retorted. "We shouldn't force others to grow up just because we were forced to! And yet, what did you do? You took my child away from his mother and turned him against me! I cannot begin to imagine what you put him through."

"It was necessary for the good of the world!" Eliphas yelled.

"He is thirteen! Enough of this 'for the good of the word' bull-"

"P-papa?"

Don and Eliphas froze at that voice and spun around. Astral stood at the end of the corridor, eyes half open, hair messy and fluffy from sleep, looking visibly frightened as he looked between them. "Wh-what's going on?" he asked.

Don instantly dropped his anger. He walked to Astral and crouched to his level, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. "It's ok, honeybee," he said, his voice soft. "It's ok."

"What's happening?" Astral asked, his voice small, scared.

"Absolutely nothing, honeybee," Don replied. "Ok? Nothing bad's happening. Eliphas and I just don't like each other sometimes. But everything's fine, ok?"

"Ok," Astral whispered, trying to calm himself down.

Don smiled, and pulled Astral into his arms. "Let's get you to bed, alright?" he murmured into his son's hair. "You wanna go back to sleep, don't you?"

"Yes." Astral's voice was muffled, tired, and Don carefully and easily picked him up.

"Let's tuck you in, then, honeybee," he said softly. "It's late."

He shot Eliphas one final, ice cold glare, before taking Astral to bed, sneaking in to avoid waking Yuma who was sleeping next to him. They really needed bunkbeds, but Don knew Astral slept easier if he was next to Yuma.

"Alright, let's get you in bed, honeybee," Don cooed as he put Astral down, and tucked the blanket around him. As he did so, and smoothed Astral hair back, his eyes finally registered the fact that one of his eyes was white. The boy had been born with full gold eyes.

"Hey, what happened to your eye?" he asked, frowning a little. It looked like a scar.

"N-n-nothing," Astral mumbled. He didn't make eye contact. And Don felt very worried.

"Apis, talk to me, what happened, baby?" he tried again, softening his voice even more.

"It got hurt," Astral said, still not making eye contact.

"How? Who did it? Was it me?" Don asked.

"Not you," Astral said at once.

"Then who?"

"It was my fault."

"How?"

"I was stupid."

"How could you ever be stupid?" Don asked incredulously.

"Because I was, that's why it happened," Astral replied. He was shaking a little, and Don realised he was minutes away from crying.

"Alright, honeybee," Don said, ending the discussion. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Astral whispered, looking a little confused.

"For bringing it up, it's upsetting you, and for not being there for you when it happened, that's what I'm sorry for," Don replied, running his hand through Astral's hair.

"It wasn't your fault," Astral replied.

Don chuckled a little. "It was. It was. It wasn't my fault alone but I do have half the blame. Why am I talking about this now? Go to sleep, honeybee, ok? Do you think you'll be able to sleep?"

"Yes." Astral said, yawning a little as he snuggled closer to Yuma, who in turn plonked him arms and head on Astral. "Please tell me he isn't drooling on me," Astral mumbled. Don chuckled again.

"No promises," he grinned. He leaned down and gently kissed Astral. "Good night, honeybee."

"Night, papa," Astral's voice was slurred, and less than a minute later he was asleep.

Don gently placed another kiss on Astral's forehead, looking down at the scar.

He knew exactly who did it, and it made him livid.

He had enough. Tomorrow, he would talk to Astral, 96, and Yuma. He would talk to Ena. Then, he'd take all of them to earth, find a house near Yuma's, and live there. Give the kids, give Astral, a life they can't have here, in this world where they're seen as soldiers and there's nowhere to go. In the same world that Eliphas rules.

He needed to take them away from him, before he could try fixing the damage he's done.

#zexal #astral zexal #eliphas #don thousand #dad thousand au

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yourimagines · 7 months

Text

Your life on camera p.8

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Triggers: Swearing, Sadness, Angst and fluff

Present day

Y/n POV

I was cleaning my apartment in Monaco as I got a call from my brother, he had 2 tickets for the Jake Paul vs Nate Diaz fight next week. I declined and told him to bring his wife with him, he didn’t want me to feel bad but I told him it’s okay. I haven’t heard from Nate in 5 years, I tried to text and call but he never replied back to me after I got skipped by him in the lobby after his fight. I was hurt and confused why he acted like that but I didn’t want to give up on him so I texted him for a good solid year before I said to myself that I’m worth more than this. I tried to forget him but I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

I watched his fight in the middle of the night in my bed. Kay texted me after the fight that he’s okay. Like that she knew I was watching, like I always do. I miss them sometimes especially the girls but I have to move on, it was a great time but not meant to be.

I was going back to Stockton to visited my mom and Josh for the holidays so I flew back and was greeted by my mom, she was crying from happiness as I walked out of the gates. “Hi mom.” I hugged her tightly as I haven’t seen her in months. “Oh honey I missed you so much.” “I missed you too.” She kissed my cheek and guided me to her car. “How’s life in Monaco?” “Good, warm.” I said as she smiled at me. “But I’m happy to be back home.” “Good to hear that, I’m happy to have you back home for the holidays.” She drove us back home and Josh was waiting for me. I saw him standing outside and I run up to him, literally jumping into his arms. “I’ve missed you so much big brother.” He laughs and hugs me back. “I missed you too.”

Nate POV

I was holding a bbq party at my house, everyone was here from the gym but also from my family. “How’s your love life.” My aunt asks as I was flipping over the steaks. “I’m single.” “I know but are you trying to get a woman, Nate you’re almost 40.” She complained but I shrugged my shoulders. “And?” “You can’t be like your brother Nate, your parents want to be grandparents.” I rolled my eyes and pointed at my dog. “They already are.” She scoffed and walked away, mumbling about being not mature enough. “Did she bothered you too?” My brother asks as he walk up to me, holding a beer in his hands. “Yeah..” “me too buddy.” I sighed softly and looked at him. “Do you think I should just go out and get a woman.” He shook his head. “No, take your time, find that person and see how it goes.” ‘I know who I want but she doesn’t want me, she’s taken.’ “Yeah…I will.” I went back to the grill, flipping them over again. “She’s back in town, she texted Kay this morning.” He gave me a small pat on my shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. ‘Y/n is back after 5 years..’

I was sitting on the toilet cover, looking at her text messages from 4 years ago. She texted me even I never replied to her back, I wanted to forget about her, not wanting to get even more heartbroken. ‘Should I text her?’ I was hesitating but I send her a text and immediately locked my phone, afraid of her answer. After a solid 10 minutes I felt my phone buzzing, she replied back to me.

Me: hey, I heard your back in town. Wanna catch up?

Y/n: hi, I am. Tomorrow at our spot 🏖️?

Me: sure, see you there at 9am?

Y/n: 👍🏻

Y/n POV

I was driving to the beach and hoped he didn’t ditched me again. I parked the car and got out. As I walked towards the beach I saw his truck parked and I felt relieved. ‘He’s here.’ I tucked my hands in my jacket and walked through the sand towards the water were he was standing, his back was facing me. “Hi.” He immediately turned around and smiled. My heart skipped a beat as I still found him attractive after all those years. “Hey. Long time no see.” We both gave each other a small hug and I wish it was a longer one. His warmth and his smell embraced me and it made me a bit emotional. I quickly pushed that all away and smiled at him. “So how’s life.” I ask as we both slowly walked down the beach, talking about our life’s.

“Monaco? Expensive.” He says as we both sat down on a rock, looking at the sea. “It is but I love it there.” He hums and looks down at his hands. “Together with your partner?” I laughed and shook my head. “No alone.” He looks up, looking a bit confused. “Oh, where does he live then?” I got confused as he asked that question. “I’m single.” His face fell in a oh and sheepishly looked down again. “Sorry I thought you were in a relationship.” “Me? No the last time I was in a relationship that was when I was studying for videographer.” His head shot up. “For real?” I nodded and he cursed under his breath. “And you, are you seeing someone?” “No…I’m single as well.” I nodded and looked at the sea, hearing the wind softly blowing around us. My hair was blew right up in my face and I giggled, trying to wipe them away. “Here, Let me help you.” Nate moved closer and wiped my hair out of my face. “There, you can see again.” His hand still lingered around my face, softy touching my skin. My heart started to beat faster as he slowly moves closer. “Nate.” I whispered. “Yes?” He whispered back as his eyes moved to my lips and back to my eyes. “Just kiss me this time.” He smiles and softly connects his lips on mine. His hands cupped my face and I felt the butterflies swarming in my stomach. He slowly pulls back and rubs with his thumbs slowly over my cheeks. “I always knew I made a mistake.” ‘Yes you did you idiot.’ I just nodded and he laughs.

We both walked back to our cars while holding each other’s hands, his rough, larger hand was protectively holding my smaller and softer hand. “How long do you stay?” We stopped at my car, my back was leaning against the driver side. “A few days, I leave after Christmas.” He nods and looks briefly away from me. “It’s Jake’s fault, he set me up. I wish I just kissed you back then.” I gently placed my hand on his chest, he looks back at me. “You can’t change the past but you can change the future.” He gently laid his hand on mine and brought it up to his lips, he placed a small kiss on the back of my hand. “You want to give us a chance?” I nodded and shyly looked up at him. “Yes only if you see me as your friend first.” I jokingly said, he rolls his eyes and smiles. “Of course I see you as my friend, I invited you multiple times over to my house.” “Then yes, I give you a chance mr Diaz.” I gently tiptoed on my feet and kissed his cheek. “Text me.”

Nate POV

I was smiling the whole way back to my parent’s house. ‘Finally.’ I got out of my car and went inside. Nick and Kay, Nina and her husband and kids and my parents were sitting in the living room as I walked in. “Hey.” I said a bit more cheerful than usual. “Hey, who got you smiling like that.” My dad asks. I smiled even wider and tried o shrug it off. “Where did you go?” My mom asked me as I sat down. “I went for a walk, nothing crazy.” Nina starts to giggle and my mom stood up, pinching my cheek. “Whatever you say, you want some food.” “Yes please.” She went to the lichten and Nick playfully kicked my foot. “Who? Y/n?” When he said her name I started to blush and looked away, hiding myself from him. “Is it?” Kay asks and I threw my arms over my face. “Stop bullying me.” Kay starts to giggle and Nick kicked my foot again. “What happened between you two.” “Mom! Say to Nick he needs to stop bugging me.” I said with a huge grin on my face. She walks back into the room with a plate for me. “Nick leave your brother alone. Here you go sweetie.” “Thank you mom.” I shoot nick a glare and he throws me the finger.

As the days went by quickly I tried to meet up with her before she went back to Monaco. “I’m going for a walk today.” It was snowing a little bit as I grabbed my jacket and a beanie. “Okay, stay safe honey.” I gave my mom a kiss on her cheek and said goodbye to the rest. “Use protection!” Nick yells as I closed the door behind him. ‘Dickhead.’ I went to my truck and drove to her favourite coffee place.

I parked my truck in front of the building and saw her waiting outside for me. ‘Why isn’t she inside, it’s way too cold out here.’ I jumped out and walked over to her. “Hi.” She chirps and gives me a hug. Her sweet smell filled my nostrils. “Hey, aren’t you cold?” “A little bit.” She admits and I opened the door for her. “Then let’s get inside.” She walks in and I followed her. “Let’s sit over there.” She pointed at a table in the back. “Sure.” I followed her and hung my jacket over my chair, she did the same with hers. She was wearing a familiar dark green sweater and she knew I knew. “Yes this is yours, sorry that you missed it for 5 years or so.” Her cheeks were rosy, probably from the cold but it made her look cute. “It’s okay, I didn’t missed it to be honest.” She grabbed the menu and looked at it. “It’s been awhile.” She mumbles to herself as I was staring at her in awe.

Our food and drinks arrived and she was telling about her new life in Monaco. “Well after your docu got out, a lot of people wanted me to work for them, I got a big sponsor deal with red bull racing, I made content for them, especially for Verstappen. He also lives in Monaco that’s why I live there as well, it’s easier.” I nodded as she was telling me about her daily life. “I travel most of the time with the team, I also have an offer from prime hydration but I don’t think I will do it.” “Prime? From those two fuckers?” She giggles and nods. “How much?” I asks and she comes closer to me. “2 million.” My mouth fell open and she starts to giggle and leans back again. “Do it.” She slaps playfully my hand. “First you insult them and now you know how much you say do it.” I shrugged and took a bite from my sandwich. “I’m not going to do it, I want this to work.” She waved her finger between us as she said that.

“You should come and visited me.” She says as I drove her back home, she walked her way up to the coffee because of the snow. “I will, I want to see that beautiful view you keep telling me.” “It is beautiful.” I briefly looked at her and she looked happy, smiling to herself. “You’re beautiful.” I whispered to myself. I saw her mom’s house and stopped in front and turned around to look at her. “I hope you like it.” She nods as she grabs her purse. “I liked it.” “Good, I’ll text you okay?” “Okay.” She leans forward and place a small kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you later.” “See ya later.” She smiles and hops out, waving at me as she walks to the front door. I waved back and she disappeared inside. ‘Maybe things do work out for me.’

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disneyanddisneyships · 2 years

Note

I am once again asking

"Mama?" A small Alistar whispered as he peeked into his mother and father's room.

Things were thrown throughout the room, and his father scored loudly with a bottle in his hand.

"Moonshine?" Carolyn spoke as she sat up, careful not to wake her drunk husband. "What are you doing up, darling?" She asked.

"I had a nightmare... can you tuck me in?" Alistar asked as he mother picked him up, her red and black robes hitting the floor softly and elegantly.

She walked with her son in her arms back to his room.

"How bad was your dream, my heart?" Carolyn asked as she sat on his bed and pulled his covers up over his chest.

"Really bad. I dreamt that you left me," Alistar stated.

"Oh darling... I'll never leve you, not really. Would you like a lullaby?" Carolyn asked.

"Yes please," Alistar responded.

Carolyn smirked before looking up at the glow in the dark star stickers her son had on his ceiling.

It always feels so quiet in the dark It always feels so stark How silence grows under the moon And it's always gone so soon

Carolyn began singing to alistar before picking him up and cradling him.

I used to think that I was bold I used to think love was for fun Now all my stories have been told Except for one

She looked at her beautiful son. After she was gone all she hoped was for him to be okay.

As the stars start to align I hope you take it as a sign That you'll be okay Everything will be okay

As the memory of them faded, a 27 year old alistar woke up from his slumber to his daughter, hope.

"Hey sunshine. What's wrong?" Alistar asked as he got up to pick hope off the ground and take her back to her room.

"I had a nightmare. You and mama were fighting even though you never do that," Hope explained.

Alistar sat down on hope's bed with her in his arms.

"Oh, my little moon, mama and I aren't fighting and we're never gonna leave you," alistar explained.

"Promise?" Hope asked.

"Promise. You wanna hear a lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I was little?" Alistar asked. Hope nodded.

And if the Seven Hells collapse Although the day will be my last You will be okay When I'm gone, you'll be okay

As Alistar sang the song, he picked hope up and brought her to her balcony to see all the stars and constellations, still singing.

The day that you arrived, the sun went black An artificial night You came and stole away the light And put it in your eyes

Alistar sang as he looked at his baby. His little girl. The one he loved more than anything. And he knew he was complete for once in his life.

Then, a flashback.

How could I possibly suspect That you'd eclipse the midnight sun? I thought that I knew all the moons But then you pulled me back to one

As Carolyn sang she rocked her baby in her arms, these lyrics were incredibly perfect, and she knew it.

She kissed her son's head as he fell asleep, her kind blue eyes the last thing he saw before drifting off.

If the stars ever align I hope you'll take it as a sign That you'll be okay Everything will be okay

Alistar was tearing up now. He missed his mother.

His hope was right here. Right here. He had a second chance.

Alistar hugged his baby tightly.

And if the Seven Hells collapse Although the day will be my last You will be okay When I'm gone, you'll be okay

By this time you can imagine that both Alistar and Carolyn are singing in harmony together.

Like mother, like son.

And if the heavens crash aground I know you'll hear the trumpets sound And you'll be okay Everything will be okay

As Carolyn stood from her son's bed, still singing distinctly, she stared at him.

Such a perfect boy. And he was hers. And she was his.

And when creation goes to die You can find me in the sky Upon the last day And you will be okay

As Alistar set Hope back down onto her bed and tucked her in, hope spoke up.

"Papa? What happened to grandma?" Hope asked.

"Uh.... she died a long time ago my little sun. But she's still here, watching over us. Just like when I come to pass away, I'll always still be watching over you," alistar explained before kissing hope's head and turning out her light.

"Goodnight papa," Hope muttered.

"Goodnight, sunshine,"

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colorsunimaginable · 2 years

Text

the spare // chapter forty-seven // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 3k warnings for this chapter: masturbation, dirty talk

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Forty-Seven:

I sleep like the dead that night. It’s a sleep so good that when I wake up, I’ve no idea the time or place, and I honestly couldn’t give a fuck. The dark curtains for the room I’m in have been pulled back, letting the bright sun drag across the space. It disrupts my blissfully ignorant sleep. Rubbing my eyes, I push myself up onto my elbows.

Oh, fuck. I’m in Thomus’ room. There’s a few sparks of regret for trespassing in on his space, but they quickly fizzle out. What the fuck’s he gonna do? Be mad at me? He can just add it to his list.

I sigh, falling back onto the pillows, and roll onto my side, away from the light.

As tends to be the case lately, so much so that it almost feels like a habit, my mind wanders to what he’s doing. Maybe there’s a major time difference and he’s still asleep. Maybe he’s hard at work, bossing poor Italian wizards around their office. Is he wearing his Death Eater outfit or office attire? He probably took over the Editor in Chief’s corner office, overlooking something of importance. I can only imagine that he’s a nightmare to work with. Especially coming in for a hostile takeover. He’ll be commanding and rude, probably easily irritable.

I’d surmised that La Penna de Venezia meant The ‘Something’ of Venice, and from what I know of Venice, there’s more waterways than there are roads. I hope whatever poor soul he has at his beck and call just pushes him into the fucking river. Lord knows he’d deserve it.

My hands start going numb from being tucked so tightly under my jaw, so I shift and cross my arms over my middle. I feel where my torso cascades, my hip jutting out from where my belly and fupa shift towards the bed. As my arms cradle that part of me, I remember how Thomus had touched me there. Especially when fucking me against the wall, he’d touched me like it… turned him on.

Of course I know that there are guys out there who’re into plus sized women like that. I’ve just never met one. Does Thomus just… secretly have a fat fetish? It’s always something I’ve had a negative connotation with, but his apparent appreciation for this part of my body doesn’t feel negative. He’d looked at me with reverence and fucked me like he couldn’t get enough. How is that a bad thing?

Coming from him, it’s wildly confusing, but definitely not bad. A conversation we’d had while he was still healing from the doxy bite makes more sense now. I remember saying that he was ashamed of me and he didn’t deny it. I’d thought it had something to do with my blood status. Maybe it’s both what I look like and my blood status. Was he telling the truth about the lust potion or was he just trying to cover his own ass?

I wish that man would start making more sense.

Unsurprisingly, because I’m lying in bed, thinking about sex, specifically sex with Thomus, my monkey brain starts to take the wheel. Every ounce of self-respect and shame leaves my body the moment I get it in my head that I wanna get off. I flip onto my back and shove my sleep shorts down my legs, kicking them off under the covers. Fuck it, undies too.

My heart is racing by the time my fingers start circling my clit. My thoughts are consumed with Thomus pushing me up against the wall again. Hands bound to the wall, his grip on my hips so tight he’d leave bruises. In my head I can hear the pornographic slap of skin on skin and my two middle fingers slip down to plunge into my entrance. The wet squelching sounds rising from between my legs only add fuel to the daydream. If only I could hear his voice right now.

You wanted this, didn’t you? No, don’t lie, you wanted your cunt stuffed full with my cock.

Imagination running wild, fingers pumping, thumb pressing in so good. I’m losing my mind here, so close to the edge.

Look at you, a dripping mess for my cock, so needy and desperate to cum.

My body’s torturously tense. My free hand’s cupping my breast, twisting and pulling at my nipple. My forearm is starting to cramp from how hard I’m fingering myself. I can barely breathe I’m so close. The lack of oxygen makes my mind narrow and focus only on how good I feel and the wanton scene in my head.

That’s a good girl, cum on my cock. You just can’t help yourself, can you? Such a dirty fucking whore.

My insides tighten around my fingers and my hips tilt upward, heels on the bed pushing myself against my hand as I fucking lose it. Insanity has completely taken over as I lose myself in this fantasy, writhing on the bed as I climax.

Of course, once the tremors have stopped and I pull my hand out from between my legs, my emotions are all over the place. It’s not unheard of for me to get emotional after an orgasm, but this feels particularly… overwhelming. I haven’t touched myself since before Thomus and I had sex for the first time. I don’t know what I feel about it, but I know I’m definitely feeling something. Maybe it’s because of how confusing everything is. Well, how confusing he is.

I’m exhausted once again and I shove my face into the pillow when I roll over onto my side. Smelling him makes me wonder what he’s doing again. He’s probably busy, running a fucking newspaper, flirting with pretty Italian women, not thinking about me at all.

~*~

The next time I wake, I force myself to get out of bed. I go back to my own room, putting myself together enough to wander the manor. It’s late in the afternoon, probably nearly supper, or dinner, or tea. Whatever it is they call it here.

I find Narcissa in her study, scribbling away at something on her desk. She spots me right as I’m about to knock.

“Come in, dear,” she says, her lips curved into a soft smile.

“Hi.” I step in through the doorway. “Just wanted to prove I’m still alive.”

“You look very well-rested.”

I laugh once. “Yeah, I feel a lot better.”

She dips her quill into a black inkwell. “If you’d care to wait a few moments, we can walk down to dinner together. I’m just finishing some letters.”

“Sure.” As I wait, my eyes travel the small room. There’s a bookcase behind the door, the kind that’s embedded into the wall. I’m drawn to it because it’s covered in framed photos and knickknacks. A few are pictures of Draco growing up, either playing Quidditch or dressed smartly in his Hogwarts uniform, even one I’m assuming is him as a baby. Lucius and Narcissa on their wedding day, flanked by a bridal party consisting of Bellatrix and a teenage Thomus, plus a few others I can’t name. The oldest looking picture is of three girls. Two of them are obviously a young Bellatrix and Narcissa, but the third girl, she looks like a strange mixture of the two of them. The girl also bears a resemblance to… someone, but I can’t quite place it.

I barely notice when Narcissa rises from her desk, finished with her task. She comes to gaze at the pictures, too, standing next to me.

“He was quite tall, even then, wasn’t he?” she says. “I think he was only twelve when Lucius and I married.”

My eyes widen and they dart back to that photo. He’s nearly as tall as Lucius. “No way.”

She chuckles. “The Malfoy men have always been tall.”

“Must’ve eaten all their green beans,” I say. “My mom’s side of the family’s tall, too, and that’s what she’d say.” I glance at her and she just smiles in return, a soft acknowledgement. My eyes go back to the picture of the three girls. “Do you have another sister?”

She pauses a moment before answering, her expression turning somber. “Yes. Andromeda.”

“Did she not come to your wedding?” I ask. Andromeda is noticeably absent from the wedding photos. Then I smile sheepishly. “Sorry if I’m prying.”

Narcissa’s expression turns regretful. “It’s quite alright,” she says, and then takes a deep breath, her shoulders lifting. “She hasn’t been a part of our family for a long time.”

I frown. “That sounds dramatic.”

Her next words are spoken carefully. “Traditions and… prejudice run deep in families like ours,” she says. “I consider myself quite fortunate to have fallen in love with Lucius.” She can see the questions in my expression, so she continues. “She married a muggle born man named Edward Tonks and my parents disowned her.”

The lightbulb in my brain clicks. This must be Tonks’ parents. It’s no wonder I saw some resemblance.

“Did you?” I ask quietly.

She sighs. “In my own way. We write. It can be… difficult to put aside our upbringing. Prejudice isn’t just an external battle, but a mental one as well. One that has to be fought every day.”

“I understand,” I murmur. “Maybe if you weren’t the only one reconsidering all the brainwashing, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

A gentle smile returns to her face. “I’m not the only one.”

My eyebrows raise and I cross my arms, my tone light. “Oh? And who might that be? Definitely not someone like your sister.”

One perfectly shaped brow perks up. “You’ve definitely turned a certain someone’s life upside down.”

I’m confused for a split second, then I snort and have to cover a stupid, disbelieving grin on my face. “No, absolutely not.”

She merely smiles at me and doesn’t say anything. I regain control and look at her seriously.

“Really,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not like that. He hates me. He’s said so himself.”

“If that’s true, then he has a funny way of showing it.”

I can only look at her dumbfounded. “I don’t know what he thinks,” I admit. “He says one thing and – and acts completely different than to the thing that he says. I’m sorry if that makes no sense. I’m confused myself most of the –“

“Melisa, dear,” she says, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Do yourself a favor and do not listen to a word he says.”

I press my lips together to prevent myself from thinking aloud. Shaking my head slightly as I try to think of a way out of this conversation, my eyes land on a camera displayed on a lower shelf. I step back to look at it and her hand drops from my shoulder.

“Is that a No-Maj camera?” I ask.

“Oh, em,” she steps back to view it as well. “I believe so. It belonged to Abraxas. Lucius and Thomus’ father.”

“Can I take a look?”

“Of course.”

I bend to grab it. It’s a Canon AE-1 Program. They were really popular in the ‘80s and even now to the film photographers. I have its predecessor, the regular AE-1. This one looks brand new.

“I believe I was told it was broken,” she says.

“Broken?” I turn the camera over, trying to look for something amiss. I look through the viewfinder. The light meter isn’t on, but I still press the shutter button. Nothing happens. “The battery probably just died.”

“Battery?” Narcissa questions.

“Mm-hm,” I hum, flipping the camera to the front to open the battery hatch. The 6V inside is all crusty. I hold it out for her to see, pointing to the small metallic cylinder. “That’s not supposed to look like that.”

I dig my finger into the compartment and pull the battery out, dusting and blowing out the white crust.

She holds her hand out. “May I see?” I drop it into her hand and she peers at it closer. “What does this do?”

“It’s an energy source to make it work,” I explain. “It just needs to be replaced.”

“This means the camera isn’t broken?”

“Nope,” I smile. “Should work just fine. It looks like Abraxas was almost done with this roll of film.”

“Would you –“ she starts but there’s a knock on the door. We both turn to see Hermione. “Oh, hello, dear. You’re here for dinner, aren’t you? I’m sorry we’ve kept you waiting.”

“It’s no trouble,” Hermione responds, stepping back.

I go to put the camera back on the shelf, but Narcissa stops me. “Bring that with us. Would you mind explaining to me the process for how it works?”

I straighten. “Oh, um, sure.”

“I’ll meet you and Hermione in the dining room,” Narcissa says, staying in the study while I join Hermione in the hall. “I just need to owl these.”

~*~

All through dinner Narcissa has questions while I explain how cameras work and the process for developing the film. She asks if it’s standard practice among wizard’s to use No-Maj cameras. I had to politely explain that camera’s made by wizards were typically garbage. At least all the ones I’d come across. The main photographer at The Daily Prophet used a heavily modified No-Maj one.

I end up talking all about my experience and how I got into photography in the first place. It’s not difficult to talk about Sam, but it’s easier to talk about her as if she’s still alive. I don’t want to explain she’s my entire reason for being here. Thankfully, Hermione doesn’t give me away. She’s known the truth since we met.

Photography had been a way to bridge the gap between our worlds. The magical and the non-magical. Going to separate schools and being so far away was difficult, but being able to send her photos of what life was like at school made it easier. It’s like I got to include her. Her way of sharing her world was writing really long letters. Vignettes and blurbs about what was going on in her life. Sometimes she’d send short stories and even poetry. She was an amazing writer.

Nearing the end of our meal, Narcissa asks if it’s possible for me to develop the film currently in the camera. I say yes, but there’s a whole list of things I’d need.

She just smiles. “If you get a written list to me, I’ll be more than happy to get what you need.”

“Really?” I ask, unsure. “You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” she reassures me. You would be doing our family a favor. The film is at least thirty years old. I’m dying of curiosity to know what’s on there.”

“Alright,” I say after a moment of thought. The opportunity to be able to do what’s so familiar to me, what’s more than just a hobby, is… fuck I’m excited. It’s almost too good to be true.

~*~

I finish The Disappearance of the Scourers that night, sitting with Hermione in her room. I don’t really find much in the way of magical slavery and I feel a bit discouraged. Hermione does as well, even though she’s sticking to the journals.

When I finally trudge to bed, I sleep in Thomus’ room again. I need to have regular, semi-decent sleep if I’m going to keep my head on my shoulders.

I wake in the morning, late morning, and on the nightstand where I’d put the camera, there’s a little paper wrapped package and a note. The elegant cursive tells me that the batteries and film were all she could obtain at the moment. A few of the ingredients for the developer on the list I’d given her will take some time.

I can’t remember since I’d been kidnapped, ever getting ready so fast. I practically sprint to my room to get dressed for the day. When I leave the room, camera locked and loaded, I follow my nose to the conservatory. Hermione and Narcissa are already seated having breakfast.

Without thinking, I launch myself at Narcissa, hugging her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Then I pull back, realizing that I probably shouldn’t be hugging a lady I don’t know all that well. “I’m sorry.”

She just smiles, if looking a little surprised, and straightens her dress. “It’s alright. I’m looking forward to seeing your work.”

“And I can’t wait to get started.” I can’t keep a grin off my face. I grab two pieces of toast and head for the door.

On my way out, I hear Hermione say, “I’m glad one of us is having a good time.”

The comment makes me slow down, and I pause, reigning in my excitement. I know she was being genuine and didn’t imply anything negative, but it still makes the guilt take hold. Thomus’ words of contempt as he reminded me of the privilege I have echo in my head.

Before I go outside, I grab the next book on the pile from the library. With the better sleep, I’m feeling more mentally able to help Hermione with the research.

It’s another beautiful day. Mostly overcast, my favorite kind of lighting, and a little windy. When I get to the clearing, my eyes immediately go to the spot where the blank paper is. Seeing that it’s exactly as I left it, I don’t bother to look at it closer.

For a little while, I roam the garden, trying to figure out what exactly I want to take pictures of. There’s only twenty-four frames and I want to make each of them count. I get a good shot of the house, an artistic angle of the maze, and a beautiful shot of the gazebo out on the pond.

I take myself back to the clearing, getting ready to settle for at least an hour of reading. From where I sit, there’s a perfect shot of the house, framed by the trees and foliage. I take the shot, and keep the camera to my eye, looking around through it. I turn towards the fence, the paper stuck under the rock is flapping in the breeze. I turn the lens to zoom in, noticing something on the paper. I want to make sure it’s maybe a blade of grass or a leaf stuck in between the folded paper. The lens focuses and I realize it’s not any of those things.

It's writing.

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callmemaeverick · 1 year

Text

Peril [Peter Sutherland x Reader]

A/N: Okay, I did it! I wrote a self-indulgent whump fic that blends (somewhat into canon) I hope this fic sparks more fics from all writers, cuz I really wanna read Peter x reader.

Summary: It’s about that scene, with a bit of a twist in it. I try to be not give Reader any distinguishing features, but if you found some, let me know. This will be a oneshot, for now.

The dinging that woke you was unfamiliar, a sound that you knew did not come from your own phone, blank and still on your night stand. Lifting your head, you squinted in the darkness, trying to figure out what it was that disturbed your sleep at... 4.30 AM.

"Motherfu-"

Normally you would have ignored it, thinking it must have been a random alarm or something but you have enough experience with hitting the snooze button to know that if you don't silence it, it will never stop.

You traced the sound to your top drawer. It took you a few minutes, but once you unearthed the burner phone from the depths of your collection of socks, you immediately fumbled to press on the green button.

"Hello?"

"I need your help."

And then you were moving. "Shit! Where are you?" Tucking the phone against your ear, you rounded your bed to fetch your clothing, scrambling to put them on. You remembered the day the phone was given to you.

"In case of emergencies," He had said. And you had scoffed. Peter worked in a basement, manning an antiquated mode of communication that may or may not be functional. When he told you about the job, he had told you it was to help other agents but you had half a mind that it was offered to him so that he was kept out of the public eye. With everything that happened with his father, and then with the metro bombing, you wouldn't put past the FBI to do something like that.

But you still accepted the device.

"You know where." There was a hiss of breath on the other side of the line, and you hastened your movements. Grabbing your personal kit from your bathroom, you headed out the door.

xxxx

You met Peter on the night of the metro bombing.

Technically, the boot of your car met him first.

When he appeared out of the alley, seemingly out of thin air, it was all you could do to stomp hard on your brakes. The sound of his body hitting your car, followed by the sound of the crash of your windshield are sounds you won't ever forget. You sat there, frozen for what felt like eons, your chest touching your steering wheel with every heavy breath. Your eyes were wide as you watched him on the tarmac, struggling to get up to chase after who he would later tell you to be the actual bomber. And then he dropped back to the ground and you snapped out of it.

xxxx

The pier was still dark by the time you arrived but you could see the sun peeking through the horizon. It did not take long for you to locate the small boat, having been given extremely detailed description and directions to it. It was one of Peter's safe places, you had come to know. Places he never goes to unless absolutely necessary.

Climbing onboard, you came face to face with a woman. There were light scratches on her face and a small bruise was blooming around her eye. It was clear she had been in a fight recently. You froze, fight or flight response gearing up.

"He's in here." The woman said, her eyes wide and scared and you knew instantly she was not a threat. Yet.

The last time you spoke with Peter, it didn't even cross your mind that he'd get hurt on the job. Sure, he'll carry a gun, a badge, his title will be FBI agent, but he would be safe at the White House. But after seeing the woman, you knew Peter was in bad shape.

And you were right.

He was shirtless when you saw him, body littered with bruises, black and blue and purple. But that wasn't the worst of it. Not when you clocked the blood seeping through his fingers, pressed to his side.

"Shit, Peter," In no time, you were right next to him. "What happened?" Carefully, you peeled his fingers away to get a better look at the wound, ignoring his sharp intake of breath. The bleeding had somewhat slowed down, the skin around the wound warm and sticky, but it was not pretty. The cut looks jagged and dirty, and if you had to guess, wielded by someone who knew how to inflict maximum damage.

“Knife. Were you followed?" Peter gasped when your finger pressed a little to hard and you muttered an apology. The question was something you've never expected to hear, but you should've known better when you hitched your wagon to an FBI agent and made him your friend.

"I followed your instructions, circled back twice. We're clear." A muscle in his abdomen jumped at your touch, but he stayed silent this time. "This is gonna need stitches. You good?"

He took a beat before he huffed. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

You turned to the woman and she took the hint. "Rose," She supplied her name.

"Alright, Rose, I need you to help prop him up but let him lean on you. I need better access to the wound." She advised and Rose took no time to get to Peter's other side and slowly let him lean on her. "Okay?" You asked when both of them grunted softly, him at the movement and her at his weight.

Only Rose responded. "Yeap."

You worked fast, washing your hands thoroughly before bringing a bowl of water and a clean cloth back to Peter. Carefully, you dabbed the dampened cloth onto the wound, wiping the blood away until you can see the wound clearly. In front of you, Peter tried to put on a brave face, but from the tension of his muscles and the spasming of his legs, he was already hanging by a thread.

Pulling out fresh sutures and needle, you hovered over him. "Ready?"

Peter only nodded.

xxxx

Your nursing training kicked in and you jumped into action, exiting your car and going over to the man's side.

"Please, don't move," You implored as you knelt by him and gently put a hand on his shoulder. Your other hand held your phone to your ear. "Yeah, 9-1-1? I need an ambulance. There's been an accident."

The man beside you finally clamed down enough to roll over. "Sir? Can you tell me your name?" He blinked up at the sky and underneath the beam of your headlights, you could see the state of him. His clothes were filthy, and he was covered in blood. When he winced, his teeth were stained red. Dread washed over you and all of a sudden, you were hit with the realization that you were the cause of it all.

"Oh my God,"

The man finally seemed to register your presence and he must have seen the terror on your face, because all of a sudden, his eyes cleared of the pain and he blinked at you. "N-no. This is... This is not your fault." He grabbed at your hand, clutched it like a lifeline. "The bomber... The- th-" But then, his eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness.

xxxx

You tugged on the last suture and closed it of in a neat little knot. Peter above you was breathing hard, his brow matted with sweat, his eyes red.

Sometime during the procedure, Peter had asked for a break, to catch his breath and you took a step back. In the respite, Peter had asked you to switch on the radio, tuning it to the local news. It was then, that you all found out about Cisco.

"There, Pete. You’re done. You’re good.” You muttered, dressing the wound to avoid infection. Reaching out, you gently took a look at the nasty cut on his head. “You should get some rest,”

He let out another huge breath, slumping further into Rose. The act was so unlike Peter that you immediately turned away from the scene, something cold and sharp lancing through your chest at the display. It doesn’t take a genius to see that there is a tether connecting the two. It could be romantic, it could be otherwise, you were in no place to judge. Peter is your friend. But that’s all he’ll ever be. No matter how much you wanted more. No matter what happened that night.

~.~

When Rose returned after helping Peter to the small bed, she found you on the couch, wringing the damp cloth in your hand, trying to scrub the blood off of your fingers. In the span of knowing Peter, Rose had heard about very little of the people in his life. There was Zoe and Cisco, the thought of them and what she knew of them sending a pang of sadness through her chest for her protector and friend. Peter put on a brave face, but she knew that the news of Cisco’s death had hit him hard.

But then, he had also spoken of you, and Rose could see as the smile on his face bloomed like a flower at dawn, slowly and shyly.

Carefully, she took the seat next to you. The two of you were silent for a while, the air awkward with tension. So, Rose decided to be the one to break the quiet, and hopefully the ice.

"Thank you for coming. I- I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't."

You sighed, long and deep. "What happened to him? I thought he was just a low-level agent. He's not supposed to be doing... I don't know, whatever he's doing now."

Rose felt bad for you. It was obvious you cared for him too. She contemplated telling you the whole thing, but she knew Peter would not like that. You were a civilian and the truth would only put you in danger.

But on the other hand, he had asked you to his safe space, asked you to stitch him back together. And you deserved to know.

So she told you what happened. From the beginning, all the way to what happened the night before.

By the end of it, you sat unmoving.

"Did he tell you how we met?" You asked suddenly and Rose nodded, allowing the change of subject.

"He told me he was lucky you were a nursing student. He told me you took care of him until the paramedics could come."

"After the bombing, I visited him. At the hospital. I'd seen the news, and I knew the media was trying to paint him as the bomber, but I knew the truth. I saw the guy he was chasing that night. I went to tell him that I believe him. That's how we became friends."

Rose smiled softly, glad that Peter had people he could rely on. She followed your eyes to the man, sleeping on the bed. "You care about him don't you?"

You looked at her but didn't respond. Still, Rose already knew. She had taken a liking to the man and trusted him with her life, and she only knew him for 4 days. You had known him for a year.

"And you?” You asked back, hesitant. “Do you care about him?"

Rose laughed, something she only did with Peter in the last few days. "I do. But not in the way you do." She admitted. "And he knows it."

Realization dawned in your eyes and Rose captured every moment.

And Peter, having the best timing, chose that moment to stir in his sleep.

Avoiding Rose's eyes, you made your way to the bed, sitting by Peter and gently shaking his shoulders.

~.~

Peter later found you above deck, watching the water. The boat was still docked, but secluded enough that he was able to join you without risk of being seen. It was a few hours past dawn, the sun is up but the air was still cold from the night.

You had checked him out before going up, changed his dressing and deemed him alright enough.

“You know, when I told you I’d be your personal nurse a year ago, I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on my offer.”

The joke fell flat, as you intended. You knew he was still in pain, still grieving, still feeling betrayed and angry what with the whole press conference all three of you just watched. You had half a mind to ask him to run, to take Rose and just disappear. You couldn't fathom watching him go against the White House and survive. But you knew him, all too well.

You played with the thumbdrive in your hand, turning it over again and again. Rose had given you a copy of what meagre evidence they had, in hopes that if all else fails, you can leak what you had to the Rome Tome and maybe spark an investigation.

"Any chance I could convince you to abort mission? Get you new ID's, maybe start a new life as a cowboy somewhere?" Another joke. It too fell flat when Peter said nothing. When the tension got too high, you finally caved and turned to him, your eyes glassy. “How will I know if you’re okay?” You asked.

Peter sighed, eyes cast out to sea. "You remember that night? The night we went to Zoe's rehearsal dinner?"

The change of topic almost gave you whiplash, but you nodded. It hadn't left your mind since.

Peter turned to face you, his eyes on yours. "I'd like to finish what I started."

Your eyes widened at the implication, but before you could ask if he was sure, Peter was leaning in. You heart thumped a heavy beat in your chest and before you know it, his lips were on yours.

He kissed you once and broke it off, eyes meeting yours again, searching your reaction but you didn't give him a chance as your hand came up to his jaw and you pulled him back towards you.

The kiss was not heavy. There were no frantic groping hands or hair pulling. It was simply a meeting of lips, an opening of a new book, a confession. It was a promise Peter was making that he'd fight and he'd fight to get back to you.

When you broke off, the both of you were breathing heavy, hearts beating a mile a minute. Peter lightly bumped his forehead to yours.

"You need to go."

You held back a sob. You would not cry.

"Go to work. Try to act normal. I'll come get you once everything is done."

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Then you got up and hopped off the boat. You circled the pier twice, and took the long way to the parking lot. You got into your car and drove off, not once looking back.

You trust him. Once he is done, he will come and get you.

Fin.

A/N: Okayy. So that was my attempt. IDK if you guys like it or not, but of you do, I'd appreciate constructive feedback. I have a few more ideas to write for Peter, one of them about what happened that night at Zoe's rehearsal dinner. I hope to write them over the weekend. Here's to never ending muse.

#peter sutherland #peter sutherland x reader #the night agent #the night agent netflix #gabriel basso #whump #stabbed #getting stitches #hit by a car #hurt/comfort #mav's posts

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mintmatcha · 3 years

Text

soggy - Hanamaki

cw: angst, major character death, mentions of terminal illness, hospital, female reader

He knows before you even say anything.

"Doctor finally told you the bad news, huh?” Makki pushes himself up with his usually toothy smile, lounging back on to one elbow. The hospital bed creaks pathetically as it rises almost comically slowly to meet his posture. It would been funny if he didn't immediately collapse back against it, exhaustion weighing heavy in his bones. He shimmies to the side of his bed, careful to keep his IVs and wires straight, and pats the empty space, beckoning you to him.

It’s hard to acknowledge you’ve grown used to seeing him here, like this. The memory of him in his own bed -your bed, the one you bought together, the place where he always begging for fifteen more minutes of sleep- feels so impossibly distant. Less than six months ago you could picture him on your sofa, begging you to join him so you could play with his hair.

Makki tugs his baseball cap down and you look at your shoes. No hair to play with anymore.

Mattsun bought him that stupid hat last year for his bachelor’s party. It's a neon pink monstrosity, the words 'Future DILF' stitched on to the front.

Mattsun hasn't been by in a while. You don't blame him; it's hard seeing someone whither.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.” is all you can think to say.

All of his favorite knickknacks have made their way here; the switch came on the first round of treatment, the blanket from the couch came round three. The slippers are a new addition, their tag still on the bottom on the left shoe.

You've been here through all six.

“Dude, fuck sleeping-” Makki pats the mattress again, more insistent. You join him reluctantly, throwing your legs over his and tucking your head into his shoulder, trying to hide your face. He doesn’t smell like himself anymore; the scent is stale and sour, with the hint of the floral cleaner they use to wipe down the room. “All I fucking do is sleep and throw up- I just wanna hang with my girl.”

You perk up enough to meet his eye for a moment, brow knitted in concern. It's always like that nowadays;. "Were you sick again? I can grab the nurse-”

“Julia knows, that’s why I’m on the fluids again.” he presses a kiss against your forehead when you open your mouth again, “And they gave me another dose of the anti-nausea stuff. Relax; you worry too much.”

You try to take his advice, but the doctor's words still swim in your mind.

No improvement, no improvement, no improvement.

“The doctor finally told you the updates, huh?” he asks again. His voice cracks, so soft it’s barely there.

It's migrated to his lungs.

“It’s okay!” you pull yourself together, “Fuck what the doctors say. We’ll fight this. Another round and we’ll be right back home, in our bed- ”

“Babe,” he holds your hands between his and pulls them to his lips, kissing your knuckles with reverence. He hums at every contact, carrying a tuneless song, refusing to savor you in silence. “I’m done fighting.”

You watch his face, as if his placid smile would answer all of your questions. “I don’t understand.”

You choose not to understand.

“I’ve already told the doctor that I’m not doing anymore chemotherapy.”

“I don’t understand, Hiro.” you pull your hand away. He tries to hold on, but his grip strength just isn’t enough, so he just watches with that same, stupid smile, “You’re sick, you need more-”

“I’m tired,” he squeezes tighter and the dig on his joints surprises you. He’s always been a thin man, but the sharpness of his bones through skin begs to be noticed. “I’m so tired, baby. I can’t do this anymore.”

The hospital sounds have faded into the background of your life, but right now they seem deafening. The chatter of nurses at their station in the hall, the steady thrum of the overhead lights, the dreadfully stable beep connected to his heart-

You'd listen to this for the rest of your life if you had to.

“You’re not allowed to just- just give up,” your throat is so tight, voice nothing but strange pitches and wavers, “You’re not allowed.”

“It’s okay.” he smiles again, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "MCR was right, chemo makes you feel so soggy-"

“No, fuck off. No fucking jokes right now.” you push him away, palm against his ribs to hold him apart from you. The way he flinches only makes you want to cry more, “We were supposed to grow old together, Takahiro. We- we are going to grow old together.”

You point to your ring, holding it so close to his face the diamond scuffs his nose. He begged his mom for it, his sister told you once. Literally got down on his knees and begged for his grandmother’s ring.

“It’s ‘til death do we part,’’ you swallow back your cry, but nothing stops the tears, as they start to well, “And I’m not ready to fucking part.”

He tucks his lips under his teeth, holding them in a straight line to try and hide the wobble.

"I lived a really good life. I got to marry an amazing person. Even convinced her to love me enough to stand by my side this whole shitshow." he cocks his head and runs his tongue across the inside of his cheek over and over again, "I'm okay with letting it end here. I really, really am."

Despite all the parts of him that you no longer recognize, he's still your Takahiro. He's the same man who took you to 7-11 on your first date, the same one who bought every flavor of ice cream in the store for your first anniversary.

The same man you decided to spend the rest of your life with.

“But what am I gonna do without you?”

That’s what breaks him. His arms wrap around your shoulder and pull you firmly into his chest, not quite fast enough to hide how his face cracks into utter despair. Like this, you can't see him cry, but you can feel it- every staccato, jagged breath, the tremble in his arms, the wet of tears against your scalp.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” he whispers in between kisses, trying to comfort you when he can't even hold himself together. “I just can’t fight anymore.”

part two

#content.cold #angst #this ones kinda brutual smh

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