#if you are i’m getting the wrapping paper tube from my room

[you-have-been-frizzled]

you're wrong about rap music.

i don’t think i’ve posted my opinions on rap music??

[reverieblondie]

Nobel Blood

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Penetrate sex, Tail rubbing?, Desk sex, Cream pie.

Summary: High society has never been your thing, and now your having to go to the Raven Ball...Maybe you will see a familiar face trying to conduct himself in a new landscape...

A/N: This might be completely self indulgent...but I liked it...

Word Count: 7,370 (I got carried away...)

“What about this one? What do you think?” 

Rolan appears from behind his changing screen in a new blue jacket with silver embroidery and buttons. The collar and cuffs are lined with silver. His pants are black and a bit tighter to his body than he is accustomed to. The boots he’s wearing are shining and new. Giving himself a once-over in the mirror in his room, he turns around, holding out his arms. 

“Be honest… Thoughts?”

A very bored-looking Cal is lying on Rolan's bed. He turns his head, looks at his brother, and gives him a once-over. 

“Like I told you about the four other outfits… You look fine. Please just pick one!” 

Rolan scoffs, “Cal, this is important. I have to look my best to make a good first impression. There will be a lot of important people there today. This could lead to some great opportunities.” 

Cal looks at Rolan, a bit worried, “Rolan, you are putting a lot of pressure on yourself. Just go and relax, maybe meet someone, make friends. You know, have fun!” 

Rolan rolls his eyes as he does his hair in his usual tight, twisted bun, “I’m not going to waste the opportunity to have fun!” 

Once he had finished with his hair, he adjusted his collar before turning to have Cal assess him once more. When he turned, he saw the prominent frown on Cal's face. He sighs, “Cal, you know how people look at us. This is a chance to change people's perceptions.” 

“The right people, you don't have to change their perceptions…” 

The room is quiet, and a silent understanding fills the space. The silence is cut by Lia busting through the doors of the master bedroom. Looking at them like they have lost their minds. 

“What are you two doing? Rolan, stop fussing and get going! You get invited to a ball and waste your time primping!” 

Rolan sighs as Lia dusts off his shoulders and places his invite in his jacket pocket. Pausing, she looks at his hair and starts to pull and loosen his usual style, making it softer looking with some strains to frame his face and the tips of his ears poking out a bit more, 

“What the hells Lia! My hair was fine!” 

“No, you always wear it so tight you want it looser, rugged.” 

“I’m going for cool and collect.” 

“Yeah, but ladies like a bit of ruggedness.” 

Rolan swats away her hands and starts to leave, 

“I'm not going there to get a date!”

Lia huffs at his leaving figure, “Hopeless…” 

Cal looks over at Lia, “Any chance he’s going to loosen up and have a good time tonight.”  

Lia takes a moment to ponder the question, “If the right person talks to him.”

-KAW!-

The sudden noise tries to break you from your slumber, but only briefly before you lol back to your dreams…magic hands…a soft warmth…a husky whisper…

-KAW KAW!-

The dream is ripped from you as your eyes are popped open; on pure instinct, you reach for your knife under your pillow, but as you look towards the noise, you pause. 

The Falcon blinks and tilts its head at you, curiously fidgeting and hopping closer to you. You pull your hand away from the blade and sigh at the familiar bird, “Hello, Rune. Do you have something for me?” 

Rune turns, revealing a message carrier just like you expected, “Clever bird,” 

Reaching over you, you scratch her neck while you retrieve the message from the red tube. The tube has an emblem very familiar to you: a golden long sword with vines and two golden roses by the sword's hilt. The paper is thick and white, wrapped with a red ribbon. Unwrapping it, you see the fancy script, and it clicks to you what is happening. 

“An invitation for the Raven Ball…and I'm guessing they are hoping for me to attend?” 

Rune kaws in what seems to be agreement; you nod at her. 

“Well, I guess I should head that way… she's bound to be waiting for me.” 

Walking up to the massive mansion lined with guards and littered with candles. The entryway is opened for the invited to shuffle in and out of the party. Just deep breaths, smile, and be pleasant…have grace, and don’t throw punches to the face; saying the rhyme in your head brings back fond memories, and you have to stifle a laugh breaking from your throat. One of your two companions notices you hiding a smirk; he notices everything, and it never fails to drive you crazy. 

“Nervous Darling?” Astarion smirks, his red eyes observing you as if he could read your mind. 

“Nope, are you?” You challenge. 

Astarion fakes a laugh and smiles, showing his long fangs flashing in the candlelight. “Never” 

Typical…

Walking through the entrance is like walking through time; these balls have always been the same. The host and the house may change, but the overcrowded rooms are filled with the rich and self-important. Deep breaths… keep taking deep breaths….

Arriving at the main hall of the home with Astarion and Shadowheart in tow, you pause with them as they marvel at the grand space. It truly is a beautiful event. Servers glide around the room with their pristine trays, serving fine wines to everyone; Astarion is quick to grab himself a glass as they walk past. The center of the room is filled with people clapping and turning, floating along to the music. Shadowheart keeps her green eyes scanning the dance floor; she is looking for someone in particular…it is the only reason she decided on attending this ball, along with your pleading. Moving your eyes around the space, the candles light the room brightly and make the gilded arches and decor glimmer in an almost magic shine. Knowing how these people love theatrics, they probably had wizards put on some spells for the grandeur of it all. 

Turning to your friends, you see they are entirely taken in by the atmosphere, though when Astarion meets your eyes, he plays his wonderment off as if this is nothing to him. As they continue to stroll about, you continue to fuss around with your dress, the corset's tightness starting to irritate you, and the flowing skirt and sleeves feeling like they're going to wrap around your legs and trip you. You curse under your breath as you have a small battle with the dress picked out for you. 

“Dress issues?” Astarion teases 

You roll your eyes, and you adjust the bodice up, but you find the action is in vain as your cleavage is still on full display. It's been years, and it makes sense the dress wouldn’t lay the same, but the high golden necklace always sat tight on your neck, forcing you to keep your head up, the exposedness of your chest and shoulders always made your cheeks flush, and the tight bodice lined with gold down to your hips always made your breath short. You did like the ruffled white skirt with the red front panel and the matching red sleeves that go from bust to cascade down your arms; it did look nice. But the part you constantly fidget with for comfort is the emblem at the center of your sweetheart neckline. It's that same one it's always been, a golden longsword with two golden roses…

“Just…adjusting…” you smirk back to hide your irritation. 

“These corsets are murder but do wonders for the figure at least?” Shadowheart chimes in 

Her silvery white hair contrasted beautifully with her lilac silk dress. The fabric looks like it drapes and flows effortlessly off her polling elegantly at the bottom, and as she moves, it reveals a long slit over her right leg. For a dress she picked out today, it looks like it could have been custom-made for her. She had fussed about the dress and her hair, wearing it in a different style than usual, but you assured her she looked terrific and would catch the eye of a certain soon-to-be duke…

Astarion places reassuring hands on yours and her shoulders. “Well, the dresses are definitely an improvement from the drab, caked-up with, grime outfits I had grown accustomed to seeing you in.” 

You both look at each other before looking at him unamused. “Thanks, Astarion…” you say in unison, not completely happy that he pointed out your dirty states on the journey you all met on. 

“Anytime Darlings~” 

Shadowheart’s eyes go back to the dancefloor, and you think for a moment that you see her getting on her tiptoes (despite being in heels) to look over some heads. 

“I think I might stroll around the room…see if I can find any…interesting company.”

You and Astarion look at each other, knowing what she truly means; translation: Shadowheart is going to look for Wyll. They are such an opposite duo, but they are just drawn to one another. Astarion always teases the names Shadow Princess and the Horned Prince when talking about them and their longing for each other. 

Shadowheart turns to see your smirking faces and she rolls her eyes before walking off. Good luck you silently wish for her… 

You watch as she makes her way through the crowd, a part of you wants to go with her to help navigate the space but you know she wants privacy for this and you don’t blame her. While you watch the floor a familiar sensation of red eyes and a fiendish smirk being placed in your direction makes you shudder. Looking up at him you see a very well-dressed Astarion looking like a vision in all black except for the wine-colored small jacket and gold and ruby necklaces hanging from his neck. When you asked about the jewels he just chuckled and left a quick poke on your nose, a way to irritate you and avoid your questions. He continues to stare and smile at the devious thoughts running rampant in his mind. 

“Yes?” 

Astarion looks away with a slight laugh, “Oh, nothing nothing…just curious if you were going to go look for anyone special tonight. Any fine suitors on the line for you to turn about with?” 

When asked only one person flashes in your mind, but you shake it off not wanting to get your hopes too high. He would probably find something like this a waste of time. 

“No, I’m planning a rather dull evening of just watching the grander, saying hi to familiar faces. No suitors eager for my hand. You?” 

Astarion looks around the room piercing his lips, “I might also be having a rather drab evening…nothing seems to catch my eye, which is too bad I was in the mood to make some trouble.” 

A slight laugh escapes your throat and Astarion looks at you with a raised brow, “Something funny?”

“Well, I just think you have changed a lot since a certain bear tagged along…come to think of it you just came back from the old shadow lands and are planning to go back…” 

Astrion narrows his eyes at you and you grin widely knowing he’s smitten. 

“Very clever…well, I will leave you to it, going to go find some more wine and maybe go rub elbows with some important-looking people…” 

“Play nice Astarion!” 

“No promises! Ta Ta!” 

With both your friends gone you're now alone in the ballroom and now it definitely feels like old times. Memories of your childhood flash through your mind as you watch. In your memory it's a younger you, biting her lip in disdain and fumbling with her dress, head sore with the elaborate braids that were decorated with trinkets and jewels. The biggest thing you remember? The feeling so isolated and unwelcomed by people meant to be your peers. You can recall two gentle hands placed on your shoulders as people just passed you by…

Shaking off the memories you look at the huddles of people near the walls engaged in conversations, “Well, better go say hi to mom and dad…” Gathering up your skirt and taking another deep breath you go on the prowl. 

It was overwhelming and Rolan had to stand to the side to recollect himself. It turns out that coming to socialize with people from the upper city was a lot more difficult than he initially expected. He was starting to wonder why the hell he came here. Yes, he had been formally invited but the people didn’t seem to know who he was or they were staring at him and whispering amongst themselves. Was this all a joke…was he just a thing to be stared at and mocked for the night's entertainment?

Looking down at his crimson hands and long nails…his tail twists around his leg as he balls his hands into tight fists. He shouldn’t have come here, he didn’t belong. Cal and Lia had been so excited about his invitation and were eager to help him get ready with high hopes of him growing his name to the city's lords and ladies. He had promised to make friends and get them invited to the next ball, but now that seems like a silly fantasy. 

Unraveling his tail and holding his head up, he decides to leave until a familiar figure catches his eye. Astarion? The pale elf has his red eyes on Rolan while keeping a smug smile on his face, instead of waving or greeting him; however, Rolan's thoughts trail to something, someone else. Scanning the room he’s hoping to catch the sight of a particular hero…

“If it isn't the Archmage of Ramaziths Tower, I figured you would see these parties as a waste of time.” 

Rolan's body immediately tenses and he turns around quickly, You smile for having spooked him. You watch as his shining eyes widen as they trail over you, his lips slightly parted and you think you hear his tail fall to the ground. From his reaction alone you're suddenly no longer lamenting having to wear the dress and in fact decide to stand a bit straighter. Once he realizes he’s staring he averts his gaze from your chest and neck, clearing his throat. 

“Tav, what…why?”

“What? Not happy to see me? 

“I- no…I mean I am! Well not happy, I mean I am happy but not super happy, but a surprised happy! Uh…pleasantly surprised….” 

His eyes meet yours and winces at himself, understanding how these parties can whine someone up you decide to ease the tension. Giggling at his rambling you gently punch his shoulder breaking the awkwardness threatening to set in. The force of the punch causes him to stumble and smile. 

“It’s good to see you, but I’m a little shocked. I figured these parties would be far too stuffy for such a great adventuring hero of the gate.” 

You shrug looking out to the party where you see Astrion watching you two, you give him a look of ‘what?’ and he shakes his head with a smirk and walks away. You turn back to Rolan, 

“Actually I’m pretty used to these stuffy parties.” 

Rolan’s brows furrow as he looks down at you confused, you do the same as you look up at him, and then it clicks. 

“Rolan, I’m from Baldur's Gate. I grew up having to go to these parties and having to take etiquette classes. My mother is a countess, from a long line of nobility and my father is a general for a regiment of the city's army.” 

Rolan's eyes widen as you nonchalantly explain your past, “Your… a lady from an important house of Baldur's Gate…and you were out slumming it in the wild? Wielding swords and blowing up goblin camps?” 

Thinking for a second you nod “Yeah, my dad used to take me camping and taught me how to fight. Mom wanted me to be a proper socialite but I didn't exactly fit in… Once I got older they told me I could go travel the swords coast, get the wildness out of me before finding a suitor, ya know?” 

Rolan shakes his head with a smile, “So you left all of this to adventure and ended up getting a tadpole in your head. That inevitably leads you back here…” 

“Hey, I had adventures before that! But I will say that one was my favorite.” 

Rolan smirks and looks down at you, “Because it made you a hero?” 

You look up at him, his gentle gaze and soft loose strands of hair cascading around his horns making your heart flutter, “Because I got to make friends, and meet you.”  

Rolan's face gets slightly darker as he thinks of something to say. With him tongue-tied you take the opportunity to tease him more by sticking your tongue at him. He rolls his eyes and turns away, you swear you see the tips of his ears a light hue of marron now. 

“Why are you here? And are Cal and Lia with you? I miss them and their tormenting of you.” You continued to tease. Though you see Rolan’s face slightly drop. 

“Well…I was the only one to receive an invitation and I didn’t realize I could bring anyone…I wish I would have, with them around I wouldn’t feel so…” Rolan shakes his head as if to shake away his thought, “I came here to meet people to get them interested in the tower's knowledge and to show that I am a worthy archmage. But I haven’t been able to talk to anyone “ 

Your heart sinks as you listen to Rolan, you remember having to go there alone at times…Rolan is always trying so hard for his family, it's quite honorable of him and one of the things that drew you to him. Thinking for a moment you try to think of a plan before it hits suddenly, “Rolan I can get you a formal introduction to someone who is very important and that I know would like to hear about the tower.” 

Rolan’s face lights up, “I would, I would be so grateful.” 

Smiling you wrap your arm around Rolan’s elbow, a part of you thought that he would recoil but he seems to welcome the gesture by straightening his posture and tightening up his arm. Your hand creases his bicep and it takes every part of you not to start teasing him about his surprisingly muscular form. Act like a proper socialite, for Rolan’s sake. 

As you two stroll about the floor you keep your eyes peeled. Though you do see some people staring at you and Rolan as you walk arm in arm, you figure people are just wanting to gawk at the hero and the new archmage. 

“Seems like we are popular sights tonight.” 

Rolan hums, “I think you are the popular sight, I’m probably more of the skeptical…” 

“Specktical?” 

Looking over to meet your eyes Rolan just gently squeezes your hand, “Never mind, uh, so who are we looking for?” 

“Her.” 

Pointing out your finger you lead Rolan’s eyes to a group of women fanning themselves as they scan their eyes like hawks around the room. They are all dressed immaculately and as the two of you approach they keep their eyes locked on you both. One of the women quickly whispers to a taller woman, the taller woman turns and Rolan has to hold back his gasp. 

She looks like you…well an older version but still stunning. Rolan feels his throat instantly dry and when he looks over to you with a panicked expression, he admittedly comprehends what's happening and he’s never felt so unprepared in his life. Feeling him tense you keep a soft smile and gently rub small circles on his hand, trying to ensure he’s calm when meeting your mother. 

In front of the intimidating woman (he sees where you get it now) you release yourself from his arm and give a curtsy. Rolan follows your lead and gives a bow. 

“Countess, I would like to formally introduce you to Archmage Rolan, Master of Ramaziths Tower. Rolan, this is the Countess, also known as my mother.” 

You feel your cheeks grow red, you're introducing a man to your mother…you never thought this would be happening, it’s very proper of you. Looking up at her face you see a soft smile, for her that’s practically beaming. So far so good. 

“I heard about the last master's passing…” she says casually. You and Rolan exchanged a glance before she continued “Can’t say I wasn’t fond of the news, he was always a poor representation of the tower. A bit of a cad.” 

Rolan’s jaw practically drops and you are quick to continue the conversation for him while he recollects himself, 

“Well, I will have to tell you Rolan is quite proficient in magic, self-taught and self-disciplined. He plans on studying and cataloging the tomes in the tower to then share the knowledge with the realms.” You praise 

“That's quite the honorable aspiration for a young man. I am sure everyone would be quite pleased to have access to its knowledge. I have been to your tower once before in my youth, the smell of the weave in the air and the majesty of all the books still leaves me with pleasant memories.” 

Meaning: ‘Invite me over to see the tower again because ladies do not invite themselves places’. You're not a bit surprised your mother is taking a fast liking to Rolan, he has a title, is respectable, and usually can hold his own in a conversation but today he seems to keep getting tongue-tied, we’ll chop that up to nerves. With a subtle nudge to his arm, you break him out of his daze where he can give her a proper answer. 

“Well, th-thank you. I think everyone should have access to knowledge if they want it. Also, you and Tav should join me at the tower for tea. I will have to prepare a bit but I would be delighted to have you two there.” 

Two of her ladies-in-waiting mutter something to each other earning them a prompt glare from the Countess. They quickly scurry away. 

“I would be delighted to just name the date. Plus I would love to hear about how you two met, knowing my daughter that story will be filled with twists and turns.” 

Rolan giggles and you look at your mom in shock as she openly teases you. You have never seen her be so casual with a stranger, well for her this is casual. You can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, you never were one to crave approval from anyone but it does feel nice when your Mother seems to improve the boy you like. 

“I will have you know I handled myself with dignity and grace-“ 

“I watched her punch someone in the face for defending my kind, it was a lasting impression, a good one,” Rolan says with a laugh and causes your mother to let out a giggle -that woman never giggles!

“Well I will have to forgive her for that, sounds like that punch was well deserved.” Your mother looks at you and you see a softness in her eyes “My tough girl.” 

The moment is soft before your mother changes the subject. Ladies must keep the conversation flowing after all.  

“Now Tav, why don’t you introduce Master Rolan to your father? I’m sure he would love to meet him.” 

With a curtsy and a bow, you two make your way to find your father. 

“Never seen you so proper…” Rolan leans down to whisper in your ears, you have to fight the tingling that threatens to show on your skin. Nothing quick like his mockery so close to you. 

You take Rolan's arm so he’s leading you through the room, “Never seen you so tongue-tied…” you mock back.

“She's intimidating… I see where you get it from…” 

“You should see when she doesn’t like someone, that’s intimidating.” 

“Any warnings about your father? Or do you plan to surprise me again?” 

“Oh but you do look so cute lost for words, I didn’t know wizards had that capability.” you coo back now blatantly flirting, very unladylike. The scandal…

Feeling bold Rolan tightens his grip on your arm where you can feel his nails against your skin, it is mind-numbing this sudden game. “And I didn't know how ravishing you look in a dress so tightly wound to you.” 

The sudden boldness of his words makes you pause, and your cheeks redden. Rolan nervously clears his throat unsure if he overstepped… he brings his eyes up for a distraction and lucky for him he finds one. 

“Tav look”, Following his gesture to the dance floor you see a heartwarming sight that distracts your thrumming heart. Wyll spins around the dance floor holding Shadowheart close to his body and he leads her through the dance. They look like a vision together, everyone seems to pause and look at them as they command the space with little effort. 

It's while you're watching them you feel a warm hand wrapping around your own. Looking up to its source you see Rolans gleaming eyes on yours taking you in slowly. You swear it’s a secret spell of his to become out of breath and feel sparks when you look at him. The feeling rushes through your veins like it has since you first met him at the grove and all the moments after. Rolan's lips part gracing you with a quick view of his sharp teeth till suddenly you feel yourself being grabbed and thrown into the air.

“And! There is my wayward daughter! Our righteous hero graced us with her presents! Ha Haaa!” 

The voice is loud and booming as the large arms wrap around you forcing your body into the air before crashing you back down to your heeled feet. Your father, as bostress as ever and completely uncaring for these parties 'etiquettes’ as always. In a lot of ways, the apple did not fall from the tree. 

Taking a moment he scans over you, it's been far too long since you saw him, and from how you ramble and rave at each other it shows. Then his eyes start to scan around you till they are meeting with Rolans, and your father smiles like a Cheshire cat. 

“Ah, and I see the rumors are true. You have a gentleman escort this evening.” 

“Actually I have two others but one is dancing with the Duke's son while the other is bound to be causing trouble.” 

“Trading in for different companies.” His eyes go to Rolan and you see him tease over your father's gaze, “Now to see if this man was worth it.” 

“Well, he is a wizard…” Your eyes go to Rolan and you two are now assessing him

“Meet plenty of spellcasters,”

You continue, “Archmage of Ramiths tower…he got the areca artillery working in the battle saving my and my friends' necks. 

“The Fire Rainer!” Your father yells, making Rolan and nearby people jump.

Before Rolan can properly process what is happening your Father is grabbing his hand in a crushing grip that Rolan returns. 

“My men, We were all in awe of your work getting those dusty turrets to work. And for helping my Tav. Good man.” he continues to shake Rolan's hand for a long moment before letting go and placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“He’s good company to keep, strong grip and with fire in his eyes.” 

You look at Rolan giving him a nod of a good job before your father is turning to both of you. With a wide grin. 

“Now! Rolan, if you walk around with my daughter you must ask her for a dance!” 

Rolan stutters over his words as you look at your father like he’s lost his mind. 

“Dad, You can’t make him dance.”

“Why not? He wishes to be near you; he must dance with you.” 

The words make you flush as you avoid Rolan's eyes, “He’s not the dancing type…” 

This causes Rolan to lift a brow, then you feel Rolan’s warm hands on yours leading you suddenly towards the dance floor. In a swift flourish, Rolan spins you and grasps his hand in yours, placing the other on your hip and smirking at your shocked expression…

“Looks like he is!” your father calls barely audible through the music. 

The transition to the dance is effortless as you two glide across the floor. Watching his glimmering eyes on yours is spurring your heart into a rush. Your body feels like it’s on fire as he effortlessly glides you through turns and claps. Eyes never leaving one another. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance?” 

Rolan scoffs, “Of course, I know how to dance, you don’t think I haven’t gone to parties before?”

lifting a brow, you look at him with an unamused expression, “OK, I might have practiced…”

You laugh and let him spin you out, then catching your hand and pulling you back to him. His hands in yours, your back flushed to his chest. The dance is completely intertwining, his scent, his warmth, the purring of his chuckling laugh. You want more, your hope is for this dance to never end so you can stay in his arms.

With a twist and a sway of your hips, you smile at him as the blush rushes to his speckled cheeks, a reminder that you are experienced at these dances and you will not hesitate to spice up the moves if it means rubbing against him. It makes his heart thum as he turns you around again, his tail wrapping slightly around your dress as he steps with you till plunging you down to a dip.

A perfect dance partner, finally.

You two stay locked within each other's snare, a small feeling of leaning forward towards each other causing your mouth to water in anticipation of a kiss. Then breaking you two from the moment is roaring applause that fills the room. He lets you rise, and you two join the applause of the musicians as well.

A normal socialite would worry if people could tell how much you liked him. You don’t care, however, Rolan is magnificent, and you would scream it at the top of your lungs, but you know this is his chance to impress rich bastards and prove himself worthy of his new illustrious Title. Of course, the right people already know this, he doesn’t need to impress them.

As you look to the crowd to make your way to your dad to give him sass (and maybe a pat on the back for making that happen for you) you see Rolan Pointing to the front part of the dance floor, music starting to swell up again and your father and mother swaying to the song. Another set of perfectly matched dance partners. 

Offering his elbow to you again, you curtsy at Rolan's gesture and let him lead you off the floor. A perfect gentleman, If your mother is watching she is beaming with pride (though she will talk to you about that hip swaying later). Off the floor, your dry throat hits you,

“ I'm going to get a drink, do you want anything?”

“Oh I can-“

“Rolan I can grab drinks, I’m still a hero of the Gate, not a delicate flower.” You tease him.

“A glass of wine sounds great then,” 

“I will be a quick second, wait here” With that you gather your skirt and shuffle away. Both of you trying to hide your dorky grins for one another. 

Then a stray voice catches Rolan off guard, “Dancing with a noble…but don’t forget you're just hellspawn trash…” 

Roland’s eyes widen, and he turns around quickly, but he is met with nothing but a crowd of people wrapped in their own world. One that some are not willing to invite him to. He watches them so clearly, trying not to stare, others staring, and sharing whispers. Then his eyes meet yours.

Golden eyes that you can always catch in any crowd. They shine his brilliance and never fail to make your heartbeat rush. Anyone would be lucky to have him look their way and right now that’s you, drinks in hand, you pick up your speed to get to him faster, but then his starburst eyes shut in something that resembles pain and then he’s gone…Rushing out of the room away from you.

Pausing you watch him leave, your heart sinking to your stomach. Swallowing down the feeling you place the cups on the nearest waiter's tray and run after him.

The hallways are dark as you follow after him. It only gets darker and darker, till you see him dipping into a side room, shutting the door behind him. It takes a bit of self-control on your part, not to rip the door off its hinges as you open it, but the site makes you slow down.

His tail twisted tightly to his leg, hands in his hair, and talking quickly in infernal. Gently you close the door behind you, and with a click lock giving you two privacy in the dark office. Rolan's shoulders tense at the sound of the lock, he can’t bear to look and see your disappointment. You carefully approach as he braces his hands down on the desk. His body so tight you think he will snap two.

“Rolan, wh-what happened?” 

Turning his head, his golden eyes shine through the darkness. And they see you perfectly. Face contorted in worry as you gently approach. Your face is the one he knows, the one he saw shining in the sunlight of the Grove, the face that saved him from shadows in the cursed land, the one who held his bruised face so gently promising Lorroakan would never hurt him again… the hero of the gate…his hero.

Then his eyes tail down, his Tav, the hero, dressed in the finest fabrics, a lady of Noble Birth, someone too good for someone like him.

In your eyes, you see him for what he truly is, a strong dreamer, someone who you would walk through the Hells for. A man so dedicated to the ones he loves, you want to love and care for him till your last breath.

“I don’t belong here…I am a joke…a monster for everyone to gawk at.” He finally confesses. 

Your eyes grow wide and all you feel is anger, “Did someone say something to you…do something?! Who? I swear I will-“ 

Before you can, march back into the ballroom and demand reconciliation with blood, you feel warmth wrapping around your shoulders and around your ankle. Rolan's warmth envelops you in his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. Clinging to his forearms you lean into him letting yourself calm.

“You're better than any of them…” you whisper

“Is that what you think?” he mutters in response

“Rolan it’s what I know, you're extraordinary.” 

Rolan’s arms tighten around you making you never want to leave his caress, but you still turn to look at him. placing a hand on his face, he’s perfect in your eyes…

“We are different…” he almost pouts

“I like our differences.” 

Rolan’s hands slip down to your waist. 

“Won’t they slander you, and your family's name?” 

“Not the people who matter to me…” your words like a promise

You lean into him rising to your toes to be only a touch away from his lips. You feel his breath fan across yours, and a rush of desire floods your body and mind.

“They will say I tainted you…” his hands caressing your face so gently

“They can go fuck themselves” 

The smile you two share is perfect, right before he presses his lips to yours. His lips caressed yours, setting your body a flame, his nails digging into the sides of your dress, and as you felt their points, you gasped and let him trail his lips sloppily on your jaw to your neck. Your mind melted at every rush of his lips, becoming more breathless as the pleasure of this moment crashed over you then pooling into an aching need in your lower stomach. All the blood and the thoughts rush to your swelling bud, leaving your mind in a haze of lust.

Rolan’s tongue licks down at your clavicle while his hands move to cup your breast. You can’t help but shake as he presses kisses and sucks marks to the tops of them. Rolan’s lips find yours again in hunger this time as his tongue seeks to taste more of you. Eargery you met his passion with your own tasting, his wine-laced tongue burning against yours. Undoing the buttons of his jacket you strip it off him in a rush. Once it’s off and tossed to the floor he breaks the kiss and whimpers against your lips, his chest vibrating under your fingertips in a purr. 

Turning you quickly, your thighs meet the side of the desk as his lips continue to caress your neck, removing your necklace to nip on your most sensitive spots, all you can do is moan and chant a series of ‘yeses’ and sweet mews of his name. He hums as he spoils himself, touching all over your form. 

“More, Rolan…I want to feel more,” your pant 

“Here?” The question is raspy and sends shivers through you to your sex. 

“Yes.” 

Rolan responds by peppering kisses all over you as he quickly gathers your skirt around your hips. Bending over you feel your face burn as you hear is breath hitch, 

“F-fuck…” he whispers 

You're already bare opting for no underwear, a destination you made on a meer whim but are happy with now. A whimper escapes him as he views you slick and puffy cunt for him, in a deep dialect he mutters something you can not understand that causes your slit to quiver. he no longer has patience his want takes control and you hear his frantic hands undoing his belt. 

The moment is eager and full of hunger, the want between you two building to this moment of passion. Rolan has your skirts gathered in a fist as he pushes his burning erection through you making your head spin. The moment is raw and hungry as he hisses from your walls so tight and soft around him, fuck, nobody told him how…soft humans were…

The feeling of the stretch is eye-watering as a lewd moan erupts from your throat, then the feeling of every ridge sliding and reshaping your velvet insides. The curve of his cock brings his sharp tip to find your sensitive spot, nudging and coating it in his burning precum, your toes curl in your heels as your vision blurs, tightening your grip on the oak desk. It's hot, intense, and the best pleasure you have ever felt. 

Rolan whimpers and moans as he pushes into your heat further. His face comes down to bury himself into your neck grunting in what sounds more like a whine. Sweat is sheening both of you now in this heated moment your only reprieve of coolness is his panting breath on your neck. Then his hand comes down to yours bracing you and he intervenes his fingers with yours before he gives a final thrust, his blazing tip now nudging on the deepest parts of you. Your slit is taut and your insides flutter against him as you get accustomed to his rigged girth. 

“Gods, you feel amazing. Practically sucking me in…” his rich voice rasps into your ear making you shudder. 

Taking a second to breathe in the scent of your sweaty neck and your cascading hair; further getting drunk off you. He rolls his hips back, and the drag of his ridges on your gummy walls is an unimaginable pleasure making you arch in a scream to your god. 

Pulling to the tip it’s only a second of emptiness before his hips are snapping back into you forcing all the air from your lungs. Continuing to thrust into you back and forth at a constant pace, you mew and grip his hand so tightly. Your arousal drips down his cock and your thighs as it's fucked out of you, desperate to coat his cock. 

“Their mighty hero…sweating and dripping for me. You're my girl…you have always been…”  

You can’t even think coherent thoughts only able to respond by arching your back further. The room is drowned in your cock drunk moans and his deep growling as your pussy continues to get ravished by him. Hot waves start to build up in your stomach leaving tingles in their wake as you approach your ecstasy. Rolan feels your trembling against his cock making him angle it in deeper. He’s right in his sentiment…you are his…as he is yours…the bond you share led to this moment of passion—the ultimate satisfaction of the want you have for each other. 

It's bliss and you rock your hips to meet his thrust, a chuckle escapes him before you feel the rough dragging being rewarded to your clit. It's warm and soft with lines of ridges dragging against you. It only dawns on you as you feel its spaded tip you realize he’s grinding his tail against your sticky sex. Both sensations make spots blur your vision as drool begins to pool in your agape mouth.  

In a silent scream, your orgasm crashes over you as all your essences coats him dripping down to fall on his boots and pooling to the floor. Rolan guides you through your high not stopping his thrust while your sex desperately grips him. A ring of creamy arousal forms where you both connect. The sight and feel of your overstimulated pussy fluttering is enough to cause his hips to still and his cock to throb shooting blissfully hot cum in thick spurts, filling you to the brim. The growl is guttural and vibrates through him as he comes down from his high.

Rolan presses his forehead to your shoulder blades as he stays within you for a moment longer letting his ridges smooth as his cock softens till finally pulling out. You can feel the mix of both releases leaking down your legs uncomfortably resisting the urge to beg him to finger it back in. 

“Wait one moment,” he says quickly with a soothing rub to your waist as you hear him digging around for his discarded jacket. 

Then very gently you feel a soft cotton cloth whipping you down to clean you. Soft ‘shhs’ and coos leave his lips and he is careful over your spet sex. He takes his time, then once you're cleaned and your dress is back down you face his back as he cleans himself, looking over his shoulder with a smile as he retucks himself. Leaning back against the desk you relish in watching him rebutton himself up so elegantly. 

His golden eyes stay on you as he gently caresses your sweaty face. Before he leaves he will snap his figures with a spell to clean you two of any lewd residue, but for now, he wants to relish your afterglow. You two stay in silent bliss and his eyes roam over your face, your fingers gently playing with the loose strains of his hair. He’s the first to speak up, 

“I want to court you properly.” 

Your eyes grow wide, and so does your smile, your heart racing, and sparks burst into your stomach. 

“If you were planning to court me, we have already messed up. You're not supposed to have sex beforehand.” 

“I don’t care; I’m not of noble blood, so I will do this my way.” there's that confidence.

Rolan pulls you in for a slow kiss that causes your heart to flip and your head to cloud in a pleasant fog. 

“Good,” you whisper 

Rolan backs up slightly and bows, causing you to giggle as he reaches for your hand. Placing your hand in his, you gently squeeze it as he brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly like a suitor would any proper lady.

[urhoneycombwitch]

honey, I’m home

🍯 honey flavour: Xmas fluff and smut drabble

🐝 the beebees: linecook!Eddie x reader

wc: 2.5k

Content warnings: soft dom Eddie, smut, oral (f receiving), reader has fem anatomy, gratuitous use of the nickname ‘princess’, Christmas fluff

foreword: so many delish linecook!Eddie ideas out there I’m throwing my hat into the ring. holiday edition. i wrote this while hiding in my room from relatives lol. my first time w/longer-form on tumblr like this send help I’m scared!!!!

Linecook!Eddie working a long shift at the diner ‘cuz he picked up shitty Christmas Eve hours to be with you all day Christmas, which he swore was worth it despite your earlier protests.

You’ve got some of the Gang over at the trailer helping you wrap presents; everyone’s hands are busy with mugs of cocoa and Scotch tape and too-long ribbons.

Robin and Steve are squabbling over a prized tube of wrapping paper on the couch, Max and El are stretched out on the floor stringing popcorn garlands, and you’re overseeing Dustin’s attempts at bow-tying on the coffee table when Eddie walks in.

And he’s scuffing his boots on the mat, shaking snow from his hair, sidling up to you when you stand to greet him and pressing his face into your neck. You squeak at his cold nose and you can feel him smile against your skin as he hugs you tighter.

“Are you gonna keep making out with your girlfriend or are you gonna help us?” Dustin grouses, irritable from all the energy he’s expended on the bows that just don’t look quite right.

You move to pull away, feeling a lil chastised (by a teenager, no less) but Eddie slips his strong arm around your waist, locking you in place, not bothering to break eye contact with you as he says resolutely, “I’m gonna keep making out with my girlfriend.”

He plants one on you right in front of everyone and although your first instinct is to feel embarrassed it’s quickly drowned out by the desire to keep kissing him, because my god can that boy kiss. And he does. With gusto. Ringed hands on either side of your face, thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks.

There are girlish giggles coming from the pair on the floor; Dustin’s grumbling about needing bleach for his eyes, Steve calls out something about you and Eddie getting a room.

Without missing a beat or taking his lips from yours, Eddie lifts a hand from your face to flip the boy on the couch off. When he finally does pull back, it’s just enough to ask, quietly, as if you’re the only people in the room- “You have dinner yet, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, his one hand still resting on your cheek, a little out of breath- “No, uh, nope. We were waitin’ for you, thought we’d order pizza, or…”

You trail off. He looks downright fucking beautiful, in the soft, glowy Christmas lighting, white work tanktop peeking out from his black and blue flannel, glint of silver chains at his neck. You haven’t seen him since early this morning, when he’d pressed a kiss to your half-awake head and left for work. Now he was here, smelling like woodsmoke and maple syrup and looking at you with those doey eyes and all you want to do is press kisses against his adam’s apple until he melts under you and why oh why had you invited people over again…?

“I’m going to make my beautiful girlfriend here something to eat. Would any of you miscreants care for some grub?” Eddie finally turns his attention to your group of friends, who all claim hunger in equal measure, and you follow him into the kitchen.

You watch as he starts assembling a variety of mixing bowls and utensils on the counter, whistling as he goes; you hug your arms against yourself, dragging a sock foot against the tile.

“I can help,” you offer as Eddie kneels beside you to produce a waffle iron from the cabinet by your legs. “I can stir things, or make sides, o-or…”

Eddie’s warm palm is sliding up the back of your calf, causing you to stutter. He nuzzles his nose against your plaid pajama-covered thigh, briefly, like he can’t help it, before standing back up.

“With these hands?” He teases gently, setting the waffle maker down and pulling your hand to his lips. “Nah. Gotta keep my girl soft.”

You let him kiss the back of your hand and you rotate it in his grasp, palm-up now, his lips pressing against the center there, and you try again to get him to let you help, because he just worked a 12-hour shift and you know he must be bone-tired by now.

With your voice barely above a whisper- “I could… get the plates out…”

One final kiss to your palm, and then he’s looking at you with such fondness, calloused thumb tapping where his lips just were. “Does breakfast for dinner strike your fancy, good lady?”

When you nod, he says with affectionate sternness, “Good. Now go sit pretty in the living room and get out of my kitchen.”

So you obey, cozying up to Robin on the couch to help her with the last few presents amid the bickering still taking place between her and Steve. Nat King Cole serenades from the tinny radio speakers above the clattering in the kitchen, and Dustin’s mood improves drastically once El offers to show him the ropes of popcorn stringing, half-tied bows abandoned at the coffee table.

You look up periodically from your tape sticking to check on Eddie- at some point, he’d put his hair in a low bun and tied his flannel around his hips, the heat of the kitchen causing his bangs to go limp. He’s in good spirits despite the sleepiness you know he’s fighting, humming along to the radio while he coaxes perfectly golden waffles from the iron and onto the Charlie Brown-themed plates you two had bought at the thrift store for fifty cents apiece last summer.

He sweeps into the living room with plates of steaming food balanced on his forearms, his stability impeccable and arms deceptively strong from years of hefting shit around in the kitchen. Obviously, you’re the first to get your plate, dropped off with a little kiss to the crown of your head, but no one’s complaining this time around because they’re too busy chewing.

Eddie’s personalized each order, of course- extra syrup to satiate El’s sweet tooth, blueberries baked into Steve’s stack, a side of peanut butter for Robin paired with a thick handled-butterknife.

Eleven looks up from where she sits cross-legged beside Max and says in a voice that leaves no room for disagreement, “You are the best cook in Hawkins.”

Eddie beams at her around a mouthful of waffle, knocking his shoulder into yours lightly- “You hear that, honey? Supergirl-approved chef at your service.”

Sticky plates get scraped clean and pushed aside, a rosy fullness lulling everyone into easy conversation about various holiday plans happening tomorrow. Eddie’s settled into your side on the couch, sliding his hand back and forth absently across your thigh, and you can tell by the vacant stare he’s giving the far wall that he’s running on fumes (though he’d never admit it in front of anyone but you, all too happy to give and give until there’s nothing left).

So you make the call for the both of you, giving a dramatic stretch and yawn- “All right, gang, I’m beat. Let’s call it for tonight and pick back up on Christmas?”

There’s a bustle of activity for the next few minutes; you and Steve hunt down everyone’s winter gear, getting the kids back into their gloves and warm hats while Robin helps Eddie with the dishes. In a flurry of see-you-tomorrows and calls for safe driving, Eddie pulls the front door shut and snicks the top lock closed.

“Finally,” he groans, and you can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles from you with the speed at which he has you caged against the wall, trailing a line of kisses down your throat, his sleepy state seemingly abandoned for a much hornier one.

“Somethin’ funny?” he muses, before sucking at the spot where your shoulder and neck join, your laugh catching and rolling into a gasp instead.

“Didn’t think so,” Eddie chuckles, darkly, against the hollow of your throat, adding a scrape of teeth over the bruise that’s sure to bloom. “You gonna be a good girl and let me have dessert?”

Your brain is already going fuzzy as he bullies his hands underneath your shirt, cold rings sending shivers across your body as they slide against your lower back, the plush curve of your hip, dipping down down down.

“Don’t you wanna-” your voice comes out shaking, interrupted by another gasp as Eddie’s hands find the bare meat of your ass and he squeezes, bordering that fine line between too harsh and too good that he knows you love- “-shower, or clean up a bit? I can run you a bath-”

Eddie slips his denim-clad thigh between yours, and fuck the presure is just right as he helps your core roll over his knee with his solid grip.

“I think…” he purrs low against the shell of your ear, grinning when your breath gets all shallow and quick, “you should come on my fingers like I’ve been dreamin’ about all day. And then we’ll talk about cleaning up.”

He makes a compelling argument. Resigned, you let your head thunk back against the wall as he sinks to his knees, pulling your pants down your legs as he goes.

You’ve soaked through your underwear at this point, which might’ve been embarrassing except for the fact that Eddie’s told you before how much it gets him going, evident now by the outline of his hard cock straining against his jeans.

“All for me, princess?” he murmurs, face so close to your clothed core that you can feel his breath.

He gets like this sometimes, downright reverent, and you know any attempt you make to hide from him will just wind him up more, so you fight that instinct to balk as he parts your thighs with tender, worshipful hands, and instead whisper “Yeah, Eds. All for you.”

He hums in approval, nosing at the front of your panties, hooking his long, deft fingers into the sides of them before tugging them down your thighs and tossing them aside.

“There she is,” he croons, as if it’s just him and your pussy now. “Don’t cry for me, baby, I’m here now, gonna take care of you…”

You jolt forward into his grasp as he slides his middle finger against your sticky folds, your hands seeking purchase and ending up in the soft curls at the top of his head that didn’t make it to the bun at the nape of his neck.

“All day, I work over a hot griddle,” Eddie mutters as he hooks your knee over his shoulder. “I make shit wages and shittier tips,” he continues, monologuing, the smug son of a bitch, his breath fanning over your now-exposed core, one hand coming up to rest on the softness of your stomach, pinning you in place right where he wants you- “And you know what makes it all worth it, baby?”

He pauses just before his mouth makes contact with your pussy, flicking his gaze up to you to assess the damage he’s done so far, his pupils blown wide with lust, nearly eclipsing the soft brown of his irises. You’re panting now, in little fits and gasps, doing your best to be gentle with the weaved grasp you have on his hair.

“You,” he says, before closing the gap and sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, back arching off the wall, seizing at his hair and unconsciously tugging his mouth tighter against you.

Eddie hums again, the vibrations sparking more pleasure against your throbbing clit. You could probably come from this stimulation alone but Eddie isn’t wasting any time, hungry for you to fall apart for him as he works one of his dextrous fingers into your dripping core.

You cry out wordlessly as he finds that spot with the pad of his finger, stroking against it, purling his tongue around your clit in tandem with the thrust of his hands, adding another finger as you clench around him.

He’s only been at it for a few minutes but you’re already dangerously close to the edge, lust burning and twisting in your stomach, your body shuddering in his hold.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he’s saying into the juncture of your thigh, pleading- with you or your cunt, hard to say- as his hand on your stomach slips down, using the thumb of that hand to press your clit against your pubic bone, a filthy slick grind that has you whimpering expletives.

“Fuck, Eddie, fu-uck…”

One of your legs is still over his shoulder, thighs spasming with your impending orgasm, and from your higher vantage point you watch as Eddie’s hand that isn’t busy between your legs drops from the outside of your thigh to his own lap.

He grinds shamelessly into the heel of his hand, rutting his clothed cock into his palm, chasing his own high as he adds another finger into your clenching core, setting a brutal pace that matches the speed at which he’s moving against himself.

It’s this picture- Eddie, on his knees, mouth on your clit, touching himself- that is your undoing. Your orgasm is blinding, crashing through you like a wave, curling the top half of your body around Eddie’s head as you cradle his skull against your core.

By the sound of it, Eddie’s coming, too, moans buried into your cunt as he wrings out the last of your orgasm, the squelch of your walls cinched taut around his fingers.

You have to physically push his head away with the tips of your fingers to get him to ease up- you know he could easily go another two, three rounds before being satisfied but your limbs are going weak and trembly and you want him close, that rush of endorphins leaving you hazy.

And Eddie knows, instantly, ‘cuz he always does, so good at reading you. He lets your leg slip from his shoulder and stands to kiss you, the tangy taste of you on his lips.

“You’re so hot,” he says, thunking his foreheard against yours, holding you close. “I meant what I said, y’know- think about you all day. Gotta take trips to the walk-in freezer just to stop the boners.”

He looks overly pleased when you laugh, giddily, and soothes his hands up and down your bare arms.

“You gonna shower with me? Didn’t even getta see the girls,” he laments, dropping his gaze to the front of your shirt, rucked-up from his wandering hands but still very much on.

“Anything for you, chef,” you indulge, giggling again as Eddie gives a kiss each to the tops of your breasts.

_____________________

if you’re reading this PLEASE know my anons/requests are open I am in desperate need of more ST mutuals!!!

[velvettte]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (18+ ONLY)

boss nanami kento x secretary f!reader, handjob, nanami is hardcore daydreaming and lusting

nanami kento considers his lust to be something shameful.

he knows it’s completely natural—it was how half of history had ever been made—but he always prided himself on choosing his relationships based on loyalty and mutual trust.

all of that went to hell the second you entered his office.

you smiled at him shyly, gently closing the door behind you as you walked up to him with a piece of paper in your hand, presumably your resume.

“hello sir,” you said sweetly, your voice so perfect and melodious that he felt his heart stutter in his chest. “i’m your new secretary. here is my resume containing all my previous positions in case you were curious.”

he doesn’t even bother to look at the resume, opting to look at your face and memorize the details.

has he ever seen anyone with lips so soft? or eyes so luminous? or a smile that was….

he needed to cut that out.

“i’m honored you’ve chosen our company to work at,” he says, offering you what he hopes is a polite smile. on the inside he’s so flustered he can hardly think, focusing on any point of the room so he doesn’t give into the growing heat he feels in his lower belly.

“it was a great choice you say,” and he turns his gaze up and oh dear.

in the midst of his panic he didn’t realize that you’d chosen the worst possible outfit to wear to meet him.

the dress was absolutely stunning, a color that complimented your skin and hugged your silhouette so well that it seemed almost magical.

he could nearly imagine what it would be like beneath. how soft and supple your skin would feel against his hands. he’d take his time to caress your skin and to learn every inch of you, the scars and the softness both.

he really, really needed to stop.

“it was the best choice,” you continued, unaware of the dilemma nanami faced at every second. “i’ve heard absolutely great reviews about your leadership, sir.”

he decides to test the waters once more and finds himself regretting it instantly. you’ve made your way onto the chair in front of his desk now, hair loose from its professional bun and framing your face.

your eyes are so much prettier from this close, he thinks briefly, his heart stopping when you take out a tube of lip balm and smooth it over your lips.

oh god.

he could feel his length twitch as you gave him the biggest smile.

“so, now that introductions are over, do you have a task for me?”

“yes,” he nearly jumps, handing you a folder of assignments that would definitely be more than an hours of work. “these files need copying and some emails need to be sent. do you think you would be able to get through some of these?”

“all of them,” you say determinedly, taking the files from him and oh how his hands yearn to feel the spark that came from that touch.

you scurry out of his office, and nanami sighs, looking down to confirm what he knew was inevitable the second he saw you.

he was so hard, and all it took was a smile and a touch from you.

he gently palmed his bulge over his pants, shivering at the gentle contact. quickly he from his chair and locked the door. the last thing he wanted was for you to come back and see him as pathetic as he was right now.

he unbuttoned his pants and released himself, unsurprised at the bead of precum that had gathered at the tip.

against his better judgement, he gently wrapped his fingers around his dick, slowly moving up and down.

he thought of how beautiful you looked in that dress and skated his thumb to the tip, groaning at the sensation.

as he moved his fist yet again, he was interrupted by a fantasy of you doing this instead.

your hands around his dick, whispering sweet nothings in his ears and moving your first at a tantalizingly slow cadence. you who’d listen to his groans and tease him, touching his tip and his sweet spots just enough to get him whining.

he could feel himself harden even more beneath his fingers, rubbing his tip yet again and groaning in pleasure. he shut his eyes, thinking of your hands, your eyes, your body.

he, sinfully, thought about how you’d take him into your mouth, your hands and tongue working in tandem.

he could feel the knot in his stomach tighten when he thinks about how warm your mouth would feel around him.

against his better judgment he whispers your name, velvet against his lips, and with another stroke he’s seeing stars, hips arching as he comes.

he gasps for air, looking at his mess and wondering just how he’ll ever face you.

he gently cleans himself up, thanking whatever power there was for having a tissue box nearby.

he unlocks his office and sits there, a furious blush on his face when you walk into his office again.

“hello sir,” you smile, “i hope all these files are arranged to your liking.”

“that was so fast,” he says, looking through what could only be described as immaculate work. “these are all perfect.”

“i’m so glad,” you grin. “say…i know it’s a bit unprofessional, but do you think you could give me a ride to my apartment tonight? i am so sorry for asking…my metro card just ran out of swipes.”

“i would love to,” he says in a heartbeat, his own heart thudding wildly.

god, he was a goner.

all feedback is appreciated!! if you want to be added to my taglist for general posts or certain ones, feel free to send an ask <3

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

Steve blinks at him like he’d forgotten he was there. He gestures at Steve’s head. “Concussions?”

“Oh,” Steve says, like it’s obvious. “Yeah. I got hit in the head, like, four times.” He tilts his head, thinking. “Was it?” He asks rhetorically. “Jon clocked me first, then the Russians and Billy. And I don’t think the last time counts as a concussion, really, but in Lover’s Lake? When the bats dragged me through? I definitely hit my head. And there was the choking happening too, which definitely didn’t help.”

He shrugs, like he’s counting something inconsequential, like sticks, instead of brain injuries he’s had. “So, like, three and a half.”

Again, what the fuck.

He says so out loud, and Steve just shrugs. “I mean, I’m okay. I was okay, even, I just had to learn how to do things differently.”

Eddie looks at Steve like he’s crazy. He’s starting to think he is. “You’re talking about brain injuries. Life-changing injuries that, if you didn’t take care of them, could be life-threatening.” He shakes his head. “How are you not wrapped in bubble wrap twenty-four seven?”

“I’m fine,” Steve stresses, “and it’s a moot point anyways, the concussions are gone, so it doesn’t matter.” He sighs, shakes his head. “Anyways, how far are you on the song?”

“Oh, right! I’m having a little bit of trouble on this one part, but I should have it mostly down by the end of the day.”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head. “Incredible.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly defensive. “What?”

Steve blinks at him. “What? I mean it. I think it’s really cool how you can do that. And to be able to learn an entire song in a day especially. Not to mention one that sounds as challenging as that one does.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, desperately hoping he’s not blushing. Based on past experiences, though, he thinks he’s probably about the shade of the tomatoes Steve’s slicing. “Thanks.”

Steve smiles at him, closed-lip but no less real, and Eddie escapes out to the living room.

“Eddie!” Dustin says, motioning him over. “Okay, look. The Upside Down, right? And Eleven’s basically got True Sight. She can see anything that’s happening down there. So why not use her as a lookout?”

Eddie raises a brow. “You mean besides the fact that using her powers drains her, and we might need her for the final boss?”

“Oh,” Dustin says, disappointed. “Right.”

Eddie ruffles Dustin’s hair and sits down, studying their papers. “I think you’ve got the right idea,” he tells Lucas. “They said these things are vulnerable to fire, right?”

“Right.”

“There’s this book I read called Fahrenheit 451 about firemen who actually started fires, instead of put them out. Think about the trucks you see, right? With the big hoses? Imagine fire instead of water. Or even just some kind of flammable liquid that we could light quickly. If we can concentrate the jet enough to not worry about spraying everything-”

“We spray what we want and light the suckers up,” Mike finishes, grinning.

“Exactly,” Eddie agrees, pointing at him. “The trouble comes when we start thinking about all the little drops that land everywhere, not where we want them. Water mists everywhere. If there’s a solid-enough line of mist from the fire back to us, we’re in trouble.”

“So hairspray,” Dustin says. “Aerosolize it. Put it on a long hose with a long tube, far away from us, and mist everything we want to mist.”

“And wind?” Eddie asks. “If it blows back in our faces…”

“Right,” Dustin nods.

Lucas looks between them and sighs. “Steve!”

“What?” Steve calls back from the kitchen.

“Is there wind in the Upside Down?”

Steve walks out, frowning. “Wind? Not that I can remember. Why?”

Lucas grins, first at him, then at the guys gathered around the table with him. “I think we have an idea.”

Steve catches Eddie’s eye. “You’re helping?”

“Trying to,” Eddie shrugs, stretching as he stands. “Trying to get them to think outside the box in a different way.”

Steve grins, nods, and disappears back into the kitchen, coming out less than a minute later with a platter of sandwiches. “The rest of planning can wait until after dinner,” he tells them. “And thank El, she helped.”

A chorus of “Thank you, El,” rang from the table, and Eddie snags a sandwich before stepping back to where Steve is. “Thanks,” he murmurs, taking a bite. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but whatever happened during those four years in the future… I think it might’ve changed you for the better.”

Steve grins at him. “I couldn’t agree more.”

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[rosyjn]

HUMAN!JAKE X READER SMUT!!! 18+ CONTENT

It’s already 1 in the morning and you’re still finishing lab work. Grace left about 2 hours ago.

“Y/N, we should just finish it tomorrow afternoon. Don’t work too hard,” Grace told you as she walked out of the lab, Norm following her.

“Y/N, come on, let’s call it a night,” Norm stopped in the doorway and turned around. His facial hair was grown out, and he had huge bags under his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, it’ll be done by tomorrow morning. I promise,” you squinted as you picked up a test tube and looked through it. Norm sighed and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

And now you’re here, at 1:30 AM, wrapping up work. All you can think about is how relieved your lab colleagues will be, since you’ve finished everything.

You stack up all your papers, leaving a rock on top as a weight, to keep them from possibly moving or shuffling. You wouldn’t want to waste all that time and energy. You reach over and place your pen in a cup on a lab table. You put back all the tubes and samples that you used, and then head for the exit.

The cold air of the lab hits you hard when you take off your coat and leave it by the door. You shiver. You quickly run out and lock the door behind you, barely remembering the code.

“7797182, enter,” you whisper under your breath. You sigh in relief as the door flashes red and the word “LOCKED” comes on the screen. Nobody can mess with anything now. Unless there is an emergency, it won’t open again until 4AM, which is when the the day starts for humans on Pandora.

Your eyelids grow heavy as you turn away and begin your walk back to your bed. It’s a long one. You watch all the doors, all looking the same. You see the signs for different departments. You have to sing to yourself to avoid falling asleep.

At some point, you’re afraid you won’t make it to bed, and that you’ll just snooze on the floor in some cold hallway.

When you turn another corner, you see a folded silhouette in the distance. You have to really squint to make out who it is.

“Hey, Y/N!” it’s Jake. He’s sitting in his wheelchair, filling up a small container at the ice machine. You’re so close to your room anyways, you think you should just say hi, it won’t make you any sleepier.

“Hi, what are you doing?” you walk towards him.

“I’m gonna have a drink, want some?” his voice is as charming as ever. And it’s evident that he’s wide awake, unlike you. You rub your eyes and let out a tired chuckle.

“I couldn’t, I’ve gotta- gotta sleep” you reach for your room key. Jake watches as your hands grip as your sides, looking for pockets. “Where, where- oh!!” you facepalm and shake your head.

“What’s wrong?” Jake turns himself to face you completely. A worried expression comes onto your face and your brows furrow.

“My key… is in my lab coat… which is in the lab… which is far away… and locked right now…” you look down at the ground.

Jake’s face lights up, but he tries to conceal it. He swallows, breathes in, and looks up at you.

“C’mere, come sleep in my room tonight. We’ll drink, we’ll have a good time,” he reaches up and grabs your arm, trying to convince you.

“I don’t wanna drink, I’ll just sleep,” you push his arm off of you.

“That’s okay, don’t wanna… pressure you,” he tilts his head and his eyes meet yours. “C’mon,” he turns himself around and makes his way back to his room, ice container in hand. You lazily follow him.

When he gets to the door, he opens it and scoots himself back to let you in first. You walk in a few steps and turn, keeping an eye on Jake as he comes in.

“What? What do you think I’m gonna do? Relax, I don’t bite” he chuckles and shuts the door behind him. When you turn back around and bend over to take off your shoes, he stares at your ass. Then, he takes his ice bucket to the table with liquor.

As you walk towards his bed and sit down on it, he stares at you through the corner of his eye. You lean back onto his bed. Your legs dangle off the foot of it.

“Thanks so much for this, I really don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t help me,” your legs are spread slightly apart, giving Jake a peek up your dress and at your light pink, lace panties.

You tilt your head and look at Jake’s bed. It’s messily made and has 2 pillows, stacked on top of each other. You look around his room, it’s surprisingly clean. You close your eyes as you listen to the clinking of glass and a pouring noise.

“You know, you can come to me anytime…” Jake’s eyes leave your panties for a second and watch his drink go into the cup.

“You’re funny,” you close your eyes and put a leg up on the bed, unknowingly giving him a better view of your underwear.

“Are you really thankful for this though?” he puts his cup down and wheels towards you, stopping at the foot of the bed. He gazes at your face, fighting the urge to take a closer look at your panties.

“Yeah, of course I am. Why? What are you thinking?” you put your leg back down and rest your foot in Jake’s lap.

“Do you wanna really thank me? For letting you stay with me?” he strokes up your leg. You shake your head and sit back up, pulling away from him. You sit on your calves and sigh.

“Don’t. I’m not gonna give you a blowjob to return the favor. I should go, I’m sorry,” you start to get up off the bed. Jake grabs you and holds you in place. Your eyes widen.

“I know all your friends would be disappointed. I know Grace and Norm would never see you the same way. I know Trudy would make fun of you for a lifetime-“ he begins, desperately. You cut him off by giggling.

“You’re right,” you hold his arm and relax, curious to see what he’s gonna come up with next.

“I’m not asking for sex. I think you’re so perfect and smart and beautiful… don’t leave. Just stay. Just for tonight,” he pleads. His grip stays tight on you. His gaze is intense and you’ve never seen him vulnerable like this.

“You’re… NOT asking for sex?” you tilt your head in confusion. Jake lets out a strained laugh.

“No, Y/N. I just think you’re really, um, great- and I really enjoy your company. I want you to stay the night. I- I can just sleep on the floor if you’re uncomfortable. Is that okay?” his grip on you loosens.

He’s so adorable you could cry. You grab his face and kiss him. When your lips meet his, he hesitates in shock before he kisses back. When he reciprocates, you climb onto his lap. He accepts your embrace and holds you tight for a second. You pull away to talk to him.

“Jake, will you accept the blowjob now?” Your hands travel away from his face and down to his pants.

A euphoric smile wipes onto his face and he tilts his head as you feel his boner.

“Let’s get on the bed,” he lifts you back onto it. You crawl back on all fours as he lifts himself up and scoots back until his head is on a pillow.

“Can I take these off?” you pull at his pants and smile. Jake just leans back and laughs in pure joy. You undo his pants, pull them off, and throw them on the floor. You arch your back and bite at his underwear.

“I’m so fucking hard right now,” he clenches his eyes closed. You listen to his words and get his Calvin Kleins off of him, which allows his boner to spring at your face. You gasped at the sight of it. He told you the truth. He was SUPER hard. You licked up the shaft which made him shudder.

“How long have you wanted me to do this, hmm?” You asked before taking his cock down your throat, slobbering on his balls. He moaned and his breath hitched.

“Ever since I met you, Y/N-“ he whimpers as you come back up and lick his tip.

“That’s surprising,” you look up and make contact while kissing his tip. That made Jake crazy and sent him over the edge.

His cum squirted onto your lips and nose, and you stuck your tongue out to catch it. He whimpered as you wiped and licked up every last drop of cum. You never break eye contact, neither does he. He grabs your hair and pulls you up to him, kissing you again. This time, his tongue intrudes into your mouth, and you whine. He pulls away and reaches up your skirt for your panties.

“Still sleepy?” he works circles on your clit.

“No,” you hide your face into the crook of his neck and mewl.

“Didn’t think so, I’m taking this off of you,” he works to take your dress off and you comply, leaning back and putting your arms up as he lifts it off and throws it.

You realize you’re bare with him. You realize you’re sitting in a colleague’s embrace, with the taste of his semen in your mouth, in only your bra and panties. Your hands go back to his face. You give him a peck and then pull away. He stares in your eyes.

“What- what now?” you ask while you trace hearts on his shirt.

“Now, I’m gonna take your bra and panties off and you’re gonna ride me,” he says.

Your eyes widen and you smile. He smiles back as he reaches and unclasps your bra. You eagerly reach to take off his shirt but he stops you.

“Hmph,” you pout.

“Don’t worry honey, I just wanted to admire these tits for a second.” he fondles your breasts. “I’ll leave so many hickeys,”

You laugh as you continue to take his shirt off of him. Last article of clothing left is your underwear. But he takes that slow. His hand travels down your torso and he hooks a finger around the side of the panty. Then, he slowly pulls it off of you while kissing.

Out of nowhere, he grabs your hips and pushes your torso back, while bringing your hips towards his face. You yelp.

“My god, I’m the luckiest man on earth.” he holds your legs open and stares at your wet, dripping cunt.

“Please, Jake,” you arch your back and close your eyes.

“Come here and ride this dick first, then I’ll see if you deserve to be eaten out,” he manhandles you back up and kisses you again.

“Okay, deal,” you say, positioning him around your entrance.

“I’m gonna hold these hips though,” his hands dig into your hips. “You can still handle it, you’re a big girl,” he teases.

As you lower yourself, you feel it tickling your slit and you shudder.

“Jake-“ you whimper.

“You need help? Don’t worry, I got you. I got you,” Jake reassures you. You nod. “Ready?” he asks.

“Ready,” you reply.

He pushes your hips down onto his cock. When it first enters, you gasp and he lets out a guttural groan. When the tip was inside, you arched your back and whined.

“It’s okay,” he whispers as he pushes your hips down further. Your eyes well up with tears as he inches into bottoming out, letting you sit down. You moan and your mouth is ajar as you let your walls adjust. Jake pays close attention to your face, making sure not to hurt you.

“Ah…” your breathing is uneven and you just sit there, absorbing the feeling of his cock. Jake is whimpering out of control and his hands dig into your hips, sure to leave marks.

“You okay? Relax, it’ll make it easier,” Jake strokes your hair. “You’re doing such a good job for me,”

You take Jake’s advice and slowly bounce up and down.

“I wanna see your tits bounce, can you go that fast?” he looks down at your pussy and then back up into your eyes. You mewl and try to pick up the pace.

“Is- that good?” your eyes clench shut as you chase an orgasm on his dick. Jake lets out a smug grin while he watches your titties.

“Yeah, yeah that’s good,”

You yelp and your pussy clenches while a knot of pleasure forms in your stomach.

“I’m so- Jake!”

“Mmm hmm, yeah, I bet you are,” Jake smacks your breast.

You yell out as you clench and pulsate around him, while your arousal coats his balls. He groans and throws his head back, catching his breath.

You hop off his dick and fall down next to him. He immediately takes you in his arms and kisses you all over.

“That was- ah,” you say into his chest.

“Yeah it was, you did so good.” he rubs your back. “Let’s go to sleep now, hmm baby? Let me cuddle you to sleep, sweetheart,”

“Nuh uh!” you giggle. “You promised you’d eat me out!” you playfully bite his shoulder.

“Nah, you’re gonna have to practice riding first,” he says.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

What about I could do this all day but with Arthur curry, where he is being flirty and complimenting the reader all day, even she and others are like he can't keep going, and he does and maybe it ends with him taking reader out on a date and then she starts flirting with him all day

.⋆｡Keep Going｡⋆.

Arthur Curry x plus size reader

Sick of Arthur’s relentless flirting, you strike back.

Warnings: flirting, idiots in love, fluff, pick up lines are from google

WC: 730

Minors DNI

3000 Follower Celebration

He was desperate, charming, delusional and all around annoying but there was no way you could hate him, he was just too endearing. Arthur had been following you around the Justice League tower all day like a lost puppy, showering you with any compliment he could think of. 

“I’d bet you’d look great dressed in kelp.” You came to a screeching halt and whipped around, brow raised at the huge man who was walking behind you. “Y’a know when we get married, you’ll have to wear something seafood-like and I think kelp would compliment your skin perfectly.” Your face, which already seemed permanently heated from all the attention, got even hotter.

“Oh my god.” You groaned, hiding your face behind the file you were holding.

“Actually, I think coral might look better on you, maybe a starfish or two.”

“Arthur!” You hissed, hyper aware of the fact that you were in a building full of superheroes who did not appreciate fraternisation in their League.

But Arthur just smirked as he leaned against the wall only a few inches from you. “C’mon, just let me take you out already.” He practically begged, a stark contrast from his casual stance. 

As hard as you might try, you couldn’t resist those big amber eyes looking down at you like you were his whole world. Sighing, you gave him a nod. “Fine, one date! Just one!” Immediately his back straightened and he wrapped you in a tight hug, making you yelp.

“You better go put some socks on princess cause I’m about to knock them off!” And with that, he bounded away, chattering to himself about what kind of date he would take you on.

“Are you sure about picking that one? I know lots of better men and women that would do anything for a chance with you.” Diana practically materialised by your side, gazing disapprovingly at her teammate. 

You chuckled. “Well, he is kind of cute.”

——————

It wasn’t just one date, it was five. Barely 10 minutes into your first date (he brought you to the fucking aquarium) you were lost forever.

The flirting never stopped either, in fact, it somehow got worse. Every second sentence that left his perfectly kissable mouth was either a compliment or some lewd joke that was so bad it even made Batman blush. So you were expecting Diana to come crawling to you, begging it to stop for the sake of everyone else.

You started that morning, as soon as Arthur stepped from the zeta tube. You wolf-whistled and gave him a slow once-over. “Damn baby, if you were a Transformer you'd be Optimus Fine.” He froze comically, his eyes wide, his jaw dropped open in shock. He pulled himself together quickly and wrapped your wide hip in a bruising grip, smashing his lips to yours.

As Arthur scoured the fridge in the League kitchen several hours later, you walked into his peripheral vision and smirked as your own gaze fell onto his pert backside. “Do you drink a lot of Sprite? Because you look so-da-licious!” His head whipped around with a sickening click.

“What did you just say?” You shrugged.

“You heard me, sexy.” He groaned as his eyelids fluttered. You winked at him and turned to leave, abandoning Arthur with his little ‘problem’.

The conference room was dead silent as you all looked over your individual assignments with the occasional shuffling of papers or the sound of someone clearing their throat. Your new boyfriend sat beside you, one large hand planted firmly on your plump thigh, his fingers gently rubbing circles into the soft skin. 

Just as you finished off your reading a deafening sound came from the man beside you as he violently sneezed into his elbow. Immediately, everyone looked his way. “I would've said "God bless you" after that sneeze, but it looks like he already has.” Now all eyes were on you as you smirked evilly. They all groaned collectively at the bad line. 

Arthur’s hand tightened on your leg in warning. You squeezed his hand in return. “Stop.” He muttered under his breath as the others returned to their work, Diana smiling suspiciously.

“Stop what?” You asked dumbly.

“You will run out of pick-up lines eventually and when you do, I’ll be there.”  “Oh love, I could do this all day.” You retorted with a kiss to his bearded cheek.

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[oftenwantedafton]

Night Shift - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Mike Schmidt x Female Reader

Chapter 3

Rating - Explicit

Warning for sexual content, dub con, bisexual characters

Also available on AO3

Seated in the quiet dark of Mike Schmidt’s sedan outside of your apartment, you can still feel Steve Raglan.

The scent of him clings to you and your boyfriend’s bodies. You can taste yourself because he’d placed that flavor there with his incessant tongue and ardent fingers.

Your hands are balled into fists on your lap to conceal the violent tremor of desire that still wracks through you. You feel like an addict that’s gotten another hit, finding it dangerously insufficient; your brain chemistry already altered so you need a higher dosage of depravity.

“Just tell me one thing.”

You glance at the young man seated beside you, resisting the urge to seize his mouth and search for more of the older man’s essence that he’s left behind.

“We’re doing this because we have to, right? For Abby?”

“Of course.” The lie slips between you, a fragile bit of sound.

***

Another evening, you’ve burned dinner in your distraction and Mike waves your apologies away, ordering pizza and rummaging through a stack of DVD’s while you watch his sister color, selecting a bright shade of yellow to fill in the anthropomorphic rabbit she’s just drawn.

“Who’s that?”

Abby shrugs, her soft brown curls swinging slightly with the movement. “I don’t know his name. My friends tell me about him. He’s really nice. He likes pizza, too.”

You smile, remembering Mike had mentioned his sibling’s imaginary friends previously.

“He does look friendly. I like his purple bow tie.”

The young girl finishes coloring in the last of the rabbit’s long limbs and slides the picture across the kitchen table to you.

“You can have it if you want. I have plenty more.”

“Thanks, Abby. I’m going to put this on the fridge when I get home.”

“Abs, we need to clear the table,” Mike calls over his shoulder as he moves to answer the doorbell.

You help the child slot the tubes of paper wrapped wax back inside their container while she unwinds some paper towels from their spool.

“Not too much. Save some for another day,” Mike reprimands gently, setting the pizza box on the counter. He rests a hand on the small of your back as you reach for a stack of plates in the cabinet, all three pieces of dinnerware mismatched, orphans from various sets. “You’re so good with her,” he murmurs.

“She’s a great kid.”

He presses his lips against your hair in a gentle kiss.

“Ew, gross.”

You smile, moving to lift the lid of the corrugated cardboard box and challenge Abby to select her first slice on the count of three, laughing when she chooses the largest piece, dripping bits of cheese and toppings before her selection reaches the plate.

By the time the comedy movie Mike’s selected reaches the halfway point, Abby loses interest and retreats to her room, leaving the two of you alone. He draws small circles with his thumb on your shoulder, cradling you against him. He lifts the opposite wrist and curses when he sees the sequence of numbers on the digital display.

“I’ve got to get ready for work soon.”

“It’s ok.” You straighten up in your seat. “This was fun.”

“I appreciate you staying the night to babysit. I don’t know what happened to Max. She won’t answer the phone,” he says, referring to the young woman that usually watches his sister when he’s away.

“It’s no problem, really.”

“You’re the best.” He kisses your forehead.

“You can kiss me on the lips you know. I’m okay,” you assure him. Ever since the night at the movie theater, Mike had seemed to be reluctant to do so.

“Yeah, I…I’m trying. I don’t want everything tainted by Raglan.”

You’d been very purposefully keeping yourself distracted from thinking about Steve, but here he was, intruding into your lives again with just the mere mention of his name.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s so fucked up.” He scrubs at his hair, mussing the chocolate curls. “I should never have had you come to work with me. All of this is my fault.”

“Hey. I don’t blame you for anything, okay?” You reach for his hand and squeeze it.

“The shit he makes us do…”

You firmly resolve not to think about it. “We’re going to get through this.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

He rests his forehead on yours, hesitating before his lips tentatively brush against your mouth in a chaste gesture of affection. You respond with a firmer one of your own, hearing his inhale of desire.

“Ugh, you’re doing that again?”

You both jump, startled to see Abby standing in the doorway leading to the living room. Mike frowns, releasing you and standing up.

“I’m going to go get ready. You need to go brush your teeth,” he reminds his sibling as he walks past her.

“I’ll do it in a minute.” She bounces on the vacated seat next to you. “You really like my brother, huh?”

“I do.” You nod, lifting the remote and aiming it at the television set, the lit screen extinguished.

“He likes you a lot. I can tell.”

“You think so?” You comb your fingers through her curls affectionately.

“Mmm-hmm. My friends told me.”

You blink, surprised. “They did?”

“Yeah. They said the yellow rabbit likes you, too.”

Frowning, your hand stills. “I don’t understand. I’ve never seen him before you drew me the picture tonight.”

She shrugs. “That’s what they said. I’m gonna go brush my teeth now.” She slides off the couch, leaving you to ponder the strange conversation.

It’s just her imagination, you think. Perfectly normal for someone her age.

Mike reappears, shrugging into an oversized ink colored vest with a bright SECURITY logo decorating the right shoulder.

“I just got her tucked in. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll make us breakfast. Probably safer for everyone, you know?”

“Hey! I can cook. That was an accident.” You slap his arm playfully.

“Sure. I’ve gotta get going.” He wraps his arms around you, his mouth more confident on yours this time.

“Have a good shift. Be careful,” you add, thinking of the many staring eyes of the cameras mounted throughout the abandoned pizzeria, their gaze reflected back to the cramped security office with its clusters of monitors that keep their dark secrets.

You tidy up the kitchen before bed, your fingers hesitating over the crayon illustration Abby had created for you earlier.

The yellow rabbit likes you, too.

***

Mike comes home the next morning looking exhausted, carrying a box of donuts and a tray with a pair of paper cups.

You fold your arms, scowling. “I thought you were making breakfast. That’s cheating.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not up for cooking today. Another day for sure.” He sets everything down on the counter.

“I’m only teasing. How bad was it?”

He shrugs, yawning. “It was okay. Abs up yet?”

“Yes she’s dressed, I just helped her with her hair.”

“Thanks, babe.” He turns his face, his voice louder as he calls for his sister. “Abby! We’ve got to leave in twenty minutes!” He removes a gallon of orange juice from the refrigerator, shaking it before he pulls the top off and fills a glass for his sibling.

“I could take her to school. I’m sure you want to crash.”

“Nah, it’s okay. You do too much as it is. Abs! Donuts!”

His sister seems to materialize out of thin air, bounding into the kitchen.

“Yeah I thought that would get your attention.”

“Did you get sprinkles?”

“Have a look.”

She tears the sticker sealing the box shut and lifts the lid, squealing in delight and grabbing a glazed donut drizzled in pink icing and covered in colored confetti sugar strands.

“Hot chocolate okay?” He hands you one of the cups and you nod gratefully.

“That’s perfect, thank you.” You remove the lid and blow on the steaming liquid, studying the array of pastries before selecting one dipped in chocolate.

Abby’s donut disappears alarmingly fast and she takes a few sips of her juice, declaring she’s ready to leave.

“She’s going to have a sugar rush now. Her poor teacher,” Mike mumbles, snatching his keys off the counter. “I’ll be back soon.”

You watch the pair leave, sipping on the warm beverage for a few minutes before deciding to get started on cleaning.

You’d noticed last night that Mike had more dirty clothes on the floor in the bedroom again; using a laundry hamper just didn’t seem to be a priority for him. You shake your head in mock disgust, collecting the random scattered garments, adding them one by one to a growing pile in the basket, pausing when you notice something shoved under the bed, one corner of a dress shirt barely sticking out. Mike had probably kicked it by mistake in his hurry to get ready, you figure, snatching at the fabric, about to toss it into the bin when you freeze.

It’s the shirt he had worn on your date at the movie theater.

It positively reeks of Raglan’s cologne and you inhale sharply, your pussy instantly throbbing. You’d been doing so well barricading the older man from your thoughts, enjoying the domestic moments with your boyfriend, but here he was tearing back through that blockade like it was made of tissue paper.

There’s a suspicious stain near the hem of the charcoal button front shirt and you hate that no matter which man the jizz belongs to, you find it horribly erotic.

Your hand lifts the shirt to your lips, Steve’s scent heaviest by the collar, and it’s all you can do to refrain from shoving your hand inside your panties right then and there.

“Hey babe, I’m back! Where’d you—” Mike is about to enter the room when he jerks to a halt just outside the doorway, staring at you rapturously inhaling his shirt, the words dying on his lips.

The security guard’s mouth parts, his breathing suddenly harsh, shoulders rising and falling in rapid succession as his lungs struggle to find more air.

He crosses the room faster than you’d thought possible given his short stature, fingers curling over the shirt but not tugging, keeping the fabric trapped between you as he pushes you against the wall.

The renewed handling of the material releases more of the career counselor’s scent into the air around the pair of you, cruelly teasing you, challenging you to imagine his presence beside you. Mike grabs your free hand and presses it to his crotch and fuck, he’s so hard already, straining against his fly. You’ve never seen him aggressive like this, so out of control, pupils blown with desire, the rough chafe of the hair lining his jaw scraping you when his mouth finds your throat, the shirt trapped just beneath, as if he’s kissing both you and Steve at the same time.

The phone rings, startling both of you. Mike jerks back, looking surprised to find himself in this situation, struggling to regain his composure, answering the phone somewhat breathlessly while you let the shirt drop back to the floor, your heart thudding in your chest, an echoing heartbeat in the crease between your thighs.

“Hello? What? No, I was…out running.” He sinks onto the bed. “What? No, I’m sure I locked the doors. Yes, the gate too. Fuck.” He drags a hand through his hair.

“Mike, who is it? What happened?” You sit beside him.

He mouths the name Steve and your stomach flutters.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll come down right now.” He slots the phone back on the receiver and turns to face you. “Someone broke into Freddy’s. They trashed it.”

“What?!” You gasp, covering your mouth.

“The owner wants to report it to the police. Raglan’s trying to talk him out of it.”

He stares at you, the implication of what that meant very transparent.

“We have to go.”

He drags a hand against his thigh nervously, as if just touching the phone that he’d used to communicate with the older man had sullied him.

“There’s never going to be an end to this at this rate. He’s just going to keep blackmailing us.”

“Maybe he made it up? What if it’s just a trick to get us to go there?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s legit. He sounded furious. And I swear I locked up. I know I’m tired but I wouldn’t have forgotten that.”

“I believe you.”

He sighs shakily. “I wish I’d never met him. You have no idea how much I regret going to that office.”

“I know,” you say, your eyes finding the crumpled dress shirt on the floor and you wonder if he truly regrets it as much as he says.

***

From the outside of the building, you don’t see any destruction that’s immediately obvious.

The interior tells a far different story.

Mike holds out an arm to bar your path, cautioning you about the broken glass littering the floor. The sunlight that struggles to filter through the glass front doors falls on scattered tokens from the tipped over change machines, making the gold coins glint on the confetti printed carpet.

“Christ,” the security guard swears, head swiveling to assess the damage. The cases for the pinball machines are shattered, the prize counter reduced to pulverized shards of glass. Chairs are knocked down and tables overturned, the long forgotten salt and pepper shakers and laminated menus now decorating the dining room floor.

The door slams behind you and you turn to see Steve standing there, crossing the room swiftly with several long legged strides, ignoring the glass that crunches beneath his feet.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He tosses the greeting to you without so much as glancing at you, his pale eyes glaring at the man standing beside you. “Look at this mess.”

“I promise I locked the doors,” he protests.

“Well they clearly found another way in. And I doubt they broke inside during broad daylight. So what were you doing this time instead of watching the monitors?”

“I swear I was watching. I didn’t see anything.”

“The damage in this room alone is going to cost a lot to repair. There are a lot of unique items that are vintage. Irreplaceable.” He gestures towards the destruction and chaos.

Mike gulps. “I’m sure we could work something out. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s even been using this stuff. It’s just sitting here collecting dust…”

Raglan takes a threatening step towards Mike, each word he issues clipped, his ire barely held in check. “This is someone’s personal property. It doesn’t belong to you. It’s not up to you to decide its value. You’re being paid to prevent things like this from happening.”

“I’m sorry,” your boyfriend says helplessly.

“That apology doesn’t sound very sincere, Mike. I think we’d better see how bad the damage is elsewhere.” He brushes past you, shoving at the Employees Only door.

You trail after him, Mike’s hand clammy and cold in yours as he escorts you through the same passage illuminated by the emergency lights.

The career counselor veers to the right, bringing you into a large kitchen area. A fan built into the wall across from you turns lazily, making a soft whirring noise. There are pans and dishes and pizza boxes scattered everywhere, steel shelving knocked to the black and white checkered linoleum flooring. Steve kicks at a stray pot with disgust. “Absolutely ruined.”

“I’ll clean it all up,” Mike says hurriedly.

“Of course you will. That’s part of your job description after all. You’re supposed to be keeping the place tidy. Which still doesn’t cancel out the damages or count as an apology, might I add.” He removes his glasses, setting them down on a free space amid the clutter on the counter. “Come here, beautiful.”

“I’ll help him,” you blurt out.

“No. This is his mistake. He’s got to learn his lesson. Actions have consequences. Come here,” he says again, more firmly this time, and you feel your feet moving, unable to resist the command. “Have you missed me, honey?” he murmurs, wrapping one arm around your waist and dragging you against him. He’s always so warm, borderline feverish beneath his clothing; you can feel it sizzling just beneath the surface.

Mike glowers but begins picking things up when Steve’s eyes snap back to him warningly.

The older man tucks his fingers underneath your chin and lifts your face up. Without the glasses he looks so different, those wide eyes even more intimidating without the lenses to shield them. You could drown in those pools of ice.

His mouth covers yours and your hand reflexively clasps the back of his neck. For a moment you forget about Mike completely, forget there is anything in the world other than the hungry lips moving against yours, the muscle thrust between them stroking your tongue, the arousal that had begun earlier reignited with a fury.

“You did miss me,” he whispers when you part for air, and you don’t deny it. “I didn’t say you could stop,” his voice hardens, directed at your boyfriend.

Mike slams a tray further down on the steel counter and Steve abruptly releases you, lunging for him instead. His fingers grab a fistful of the shorter man’s shirt, shoving him against the hard surface, sending more cookware scattering. “What’s the matter, Mike? Upset your girlfriend is getting some action? Or maybe you’re jealous that you’re not getting any of that attention. You’ve had a hard on ever since I walked into the restaurant.”

“Fuck you.” He spits, saliva landing on the corner of Steve’s mouth.

You gasp, thinking Raglan will strike your boyfriend for sure, the sound evolving to something needier when you see Steve drag his fingers through the fluid, grinning darkly before he clutches a fistful of brown curls and jerks Mike’s head back. He licks his way inside his mouth and you hear the younger man moan.

“Wouldn’t you just love to?” Steve muses, reaching for the fly of Mike’s work pants.

Another groan escapes when those deft fingers work their way inside the younger man’s boxers, stroking Mike’s leaking cock briefly before he releases him, stepping back.

“Let’s clear a space for your girlfriend. Over here, sweetheart.” You move forward as the career counselor sweeps an arm over the steel surface, sending the remaining items to the floor with a loud clatter. He unfastens your jeans and shoves them down at the same time as your panties, then lifts you up so you’re seated on the edge of the counter, dragging the rest of your clothing free.

“This too,” he murmurs by your ear, tugging on the hem of your shirt, indicating for you to pull it over your head, the bra soon following. You’re completely nude now, exposed before Steve’s ravenous gaze, shivering from the metallic surface touching your skin and the anticipation of the older man’s next move.

“Lay back, honey.” You lower your torso, fingers clutching the edges of the counter for balance, Raglan’s broad hand snaking around to support the movement so you land gently. He drags a calloused hand over one breast, trailing down to your navel, stroking small circles around the divoted space before he bends to kiss you, his mouth following all the places his hand had just been.

He hovers just above your mound, his breath tickling your skin before he gently wedges a hand between your clamped thighs, prying them apart, the tensed limbs falling slack. He hisses appreciatively, kneels down and slides his tongue between your lips in a brief teasing lick and your back arches off the counter.

“You’re completely soaked, sweetheart. You’ve been looking forward to this, haven’t you?” He plants a kiss on the inside of one thigh, turning his face slightly to address the man standing behind him. “Are you going to just stand and watch, or are you going to help your girlfriend out? Not that I’d mind keeping you all to myself.” His lips hum by the fork of your legs and you shiver, squirming restlessly, eager for more contact.

Mike’s face appears and you crane your neck in time to see him flick his tongue over your clit.

Your head snaps back and you whimper, the sound overly loud in the spacious kitchen. You feel a finger at your entrance and instantly recognize it as Steve’s, the long digit slipping inside and curling expertly, tearing another sound of pleasure from you.

“I don’t know how you stand having this around you all the time, Mike. My face would be permanently buried between these thighs,” the career counselor mutters, working the finger in and out while your boyfriend’s tongue strokes over your pussy.

You could cum right then, but you refuse to let yourself get off so easily, wanting to prolong the feeling. A second finger joins the first, scissoring within your tunnel, Mike’s mouth sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves swollen and erect against his tongue.

You hear your boyfriend moan and think Steve must be touching him again with his free hand. His head lifts, smeared with your juices, the hand that had been curled supportively around one thigh abandoning you in favor of winding Raglan’s tie around his fist and dragging his mouth to his. The fingers working inside of you move more insistently, bringing you closer to release. The sight of the two men kissing so heatedly sends you careening over the edge, your hips rocking wildly against the older man’s hand.

Steve breaks the kiss so he can reward your dripping cunt with one instead. “You’re so fucking delicious. Such a good girl.” The praise sends a spear of warmth through you.

He stands up, using the table for balance, immediately reaching once more for Mike’s cock, squeezing the base. “Not yet,” he cautions, his other hand jerking the younger man’s face up. “You don’t get to cum just yet.” His next kiss is rough, sucking loudly, teeth pulling Mike’s bottom lip until they release the flesh with a loud pop. He glances at your form still lying on the edge of the counter. “You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

You can see Mike’s jaw tighten, a blend of anger and frustration. “No,” he says quietly.

“Didn’t think so. Well, let’s change that, shall we?” He pushes Mike between your legs, one hand still firmly clenching the base of his cock, holding him just shy of your opening. Your boyfriend’s hands clutch your hips as Steve moves to the side and guides him forward, helping him fuck into you.

Mike grunts at the feeling of your wet pussy greeting him, hips automatically snapping forward to bury himself deeper inside, halted by the frustrating barrier Steve’s hand provides.

“Gently, Mike. She’s still recovering. Feels like heaven though, doesn’t it?” He reaches for your breast, fondling the nipple. Every time your boyfriend moves it brings Raglan’s hand with it, the contact between the three of you heightened. You thread your fingers through those still caressing your breast, your eyes meeting his.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Raglan’s voice is so tender, so at odds with the hard snap of Mike’s pelvis against your body, his pace quickening. You don’t even know how to phrase it; if the vocabulary for it has been invented yet. Your entire body feels magma hot, senseless liquid around Mike’s impatiently driving prick. Steven lifts your fingers to his face and kisses the inside of your wrist, his tongue tracing circles along your pulse point and you feel yourself shatter. He releases his hold of Mike’s cock and thrusts the fingers between the younger man’s lips, letting him lap at the taste of both of you.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Mike announces, his movements more frantic now that he has better access, your still spasming canal massaging him, wringing out his orgasm.

Steve shoves the younger man out of the way, kneeling down, his mouth back at your entrance, sucking and licking Mike’s cum back out of you.

You watch him bring that mouthful back to its owner, jerking his head back roughly and spearing his mouth open, seed spilling back onto Mike’s tongue. He moans when your boyfriend tears at the zipper of his trousers, shoving his fingers over his dripping cock, sending the older man over the edge.

***

“You can start cleaning up tonight,” Steve says, the first words spoken since the three of you had hastily cleaned up in the restroom before exiting the building. He tugs on the handle of the driver’s side door, his gaze alternating between Mike and then you.

“You’re going to convince the owner not to file a police report, right?”

The career counselor’s lips twitch slightly as he reaches for the glasses tucked into his shirt pocket. “Sure, sweetheart.” His eyes flick back to the security guard. “You should go home and get some sleep. You have a long, busy night ahead of you.”

Mike nods, sliding behind the wheel and slamming the door. You hesitate, fingers running absently over a spot of rust on the frame of your boyfriend’s sedan, unable to look away from the prison of Raglan’s stare.

The small, secret smile returns, making something flutter inside of you.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Okay so maybe this it too dark, but I’m taking a chance because your inbox said “disgusting or dark themes” lmao. Imagine Dick goes through with the paralyzing of his darling, and it’s successful, but something goes wrong during one of his patrols, and he gets knocked out/kidnapped or other. Now Darling is there in the apartment all by herself, with no way to move or care for herself. I imagine she’d be incredibly sick if enough time passed, like near death if she’d been allowed to just sit there for a few days or more. What would dicks reaction be once he finally made it back to her and saw her in that state? Would it be enough for him to admit what he’s doing is wrong, or would he rationalize it away?

Love your work btw!! 💗 you keep us fed!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇…

!!! GN reader, paralyzed reader, drugging, starvation, dehydration, brief blood mention (extremely non-graphic), emaciation, near death experience, brief mention of poor hygiene, feeding tube, infantilizing.

(I know this ask uses she/her pronouns, but I thought it was better to keep this consistent with the other immobilization asks, so I used the same gender neutral reader.)

(Also, how dare you think this is too dark for this blog. I eat this shit up, MM-MM-MMMMMMMMMMMMM.)

I’ve actually wondered about this before. If you’ve seen my previous asks, then you know that yandere Dick Grayson is still all in with the hero game. This already has an impact on his ability to care for you, as he sometimes comes home later than he’d want to, so it’s only natural that something like this would happen.

I can see him having to leave for a Nightwing emergency around noon-ish. You’re left sitting upright in his bed, head lulling to one side with your hands delicately poised in your lap like a porcelain doll. Now, whether you imagine him paralyzing just your legs or your arms as well, I think it’s safe to say he’d still keep you on a drug that immobilizes as a precaution, so the only movement you can manage is your eyes. With any luck, he wraps up whatever he needs to quickly and he brings you back to the living room where you can at least watch TV. You can only sit alone with your thoughts for so long before you become just as fucking insane as your captive has…

Noon turns into evening. Evening turns into night. Your stomach bubbles uncomfortably from the lack of dinner, making it difficult to fall asleep. Still no signs of Dick when you finally manage to drift off, and when you wake up the next morning, your mouth feels like sand paper. A loud gurgle emits from your stomach, your groggy mind filled with prayers that Dick got home last night and is currently preparing your breakfast in the kitchen, but those holes slowly diminish as the hours tick by, the pain in your stomach becoming almost unbearable.

From the corner of your eye, you can see your IV drip practically empty. This confirms the unfortunate reality that Dick has yet to return; otherwise, he’d take the needle out of your arm, or at the very least, replaced the bag. You’re still unable to move with the drug still in your blood stream, but as soon as it wears off, you plan to use the limited control you have over your body to at least try and inchworm your way out of here… or even just to the kitchen.

By the time you approach the 24-hour mark of Dick’s sudden departure, you feel like you’re agonizingly rotting away. Dehydration is making your mind fuzzy, but before you’re granted the release of passing out, starvation sharply pulls your consciousness back in. This a persistent cycle that taunts you through the day, midnight providing a small reprieve as your mind finally shuts down before the torture begins again in the morning.

The drug has long left your system, allowing you to try and generate some moisture in your mouth. You viscously gnaw at the inside of your cheeks, swallowing the chunks of skin you manage to tear off and almost crying in relief when you’re blessed with the flavor of blood. It’s not much, as you doubt you can survive off this alone, but it would tide you over long enough until Dick showed up, right?

… He’s on his way home… right?

It’s been 3 whole days. You’re fighting a losing battle between a mouth filled with sand and a stomach trying to digest itself. Through your bleary vision, you can vaguely make out the outline of bones in your arms, the twist of the radius and ulna prominently bulging through your skin. Drifting between two planes of consciousness, you tried to focus on anything other than your eminent demise, like memories before this never-ending hell or the smell of your own horrendous odor.

This is it. This is how you die. If you didn’t feel like your brain was slowly turning into mud, you might’ve been more afraid. But fortunately for you, death seemed to be kind enough to numb your thoughts entirely, allowing you to pass on with serenity rather than terror. This may have been the most merciful thing the universe has been towards you in the past several months. After weeks of being a captive in your own body, you’re finally being relieved of this nightmare…

… But, of course, you should’ve known you would never be granted the privilege of pity.

Dick is greeted with the horrifying sight of you on death’s doorstep by the time he stumbles into his room. After making sure you’re still alive — and almost sobbing from relief when he feels a feint pulse — he quickly prepares an IV bag of actual sustainable fluids to replace the empty one filled with just the drug. Hopefully, it would be enough to stabilize your electrolyte levels until he can put you on a feeding tube.

Now, remember that Dick isn’t an idiot; he does his research before doing any sort of medical procedure on you, and it helps that he already has some preexisting knowledge thanks to his field of work. But, again, since he isn’t an idiot, he knows that there’s only so much he can do as one guy, and a condition like this requires a team of professionals who can monitor your vitals and nutrient levels. There’s a chance he may actually take you to Gotham, either to Leslie’s Thompkin’s clinic or even the Batcave depending on what’s closer. I think it’s possible that Leslie and/or Bruce are already aware of your paralysis, albeit not the true story behind it. Dick wouldn’t have to explain himself much other than the reason he couldn’t take care of you for the past couple of days.

However, after you’re fully stabilized, it would only be a matter of time before someone talks to Dick about what’s good for you. Having your only caretaker be a vigilante who can’t always be there for you is a huge risk to your safety. Leslie, and/or Bruce would try to convince him to move you into the manor, where Alfred could keep an eye on you, but Dick would only be enraged at the suggestion. He almost just lost you, and now they want to take you away from him?! He’s the only one who can take care of you because he knows what’s good for you!!

(The cracks in Dick’s carefully crafted façade are showing… Leslie and/or Bruce can only hope this is just him being overwhelmed from all that’s happened.)

Anyways. One way or another, you find yourself waking up to the familiar sight of Dick’s ceiling. The stinging sensation of a feeding tube irritates your nostril, and you feel like you’ve just been hit by a steamroller. Dick immediately takes to your side the moment he realizes you’re awake, desperately clutching your hand (which you can’t feel, cuz… y’know… paralysis) as he sobs into the bony crook of your neck. He’s practically in hysterics; the way he gasps for air between agonizing wails makes you distantly worry he’s gonna pass out on your weak form.

So, what would be Dick’s takeaway from this? Does he finally recognize how fucked up it is to paralyze someone so he can take care of them easier? Well… no. Not at all. In fact, as soon as he’s allowed himself to grieve over the fact you almost fucking died, he realizes that this is actually perfect for him. You’re in a critical state and he needs to nurse you back to health? He absolutely adores coddling you to the extreme, so this is like living the dream. Really, the only thing he regrets is not putting you on a more sustainable drug before he left (though it’s not like he could foresee his initial Nightwing emergency going south like that. But it’s okay, cuz now he knows to take precautions!!).

Your recovery would take months, but things return to normal very quickly… much to your anguish.

[rhythm-catsandwine]

Hot Chocolate

Klars

Master list

“You need anything?” Lars waited until the coughing fit was done.

"I'm craving hot chocolate." Kirk shivered despite the layers of blankets around him.

"Can I try and make some for you?"

"Remember the last time you tried to cook?" Kirk laughed.

"Don't remind me."

"We had to get a new stove." 

"So how do I make it?"

"There is a recipe on the counter by the stove. I planned on making it this weekend. "

Lars padded out of the room and brought back a piece of paper. "Why is it spicy?"

"Because I like it spicy. Don't burn the chocolate."

"How do I do that?"

"You keep stirring it. But to be on the safe side use a candy thermometer."

"What’s a candy thermometer?"

“A thermometer for making candy.”

Five minutes later the drummer brought a handful of random thermometers and dropped them on the table in front of the couch. "Is it this one?"

"That's a meat thermometer" 

"This one?"

"No"

"This one?" 

"No"

“Did you find all the thermometers but the candy one in the house?”

"How many thermometers are there? And why are you watching the movie with the creepy clown that scares kids?"

"It calls itself Pennywise but its real name is-.."

"Where the fock is the thermometer?"

Kirk paused the movie and wrapped the huge blanket around him. It was green and blue and red plaid. "I'll find it for you."  

"You look cute all cuddled up in my blanket. why are you smelling it?"

"No I wasn't" he lied. "It's our blanket."

"It's like a kirk burrito kirkrito or Kirk cocoon Kirkcoon?" They walked into the kitchen.  "You're smelling it again."

Neither of them remember who the blanket originally belonged to but all Kirk knew it smelt like home, like warmth. "It smells like you." Kirk tried to hide the blush but gave up when he received a kiss on the cheek. "You missed."

"No, I didn't and where is the focking thermometer?"

Of course, it was in the one drawer Lars didn’t look in. "Here" Kirk held up the thin glass tube. 

Lars began finding chocolate, a container he assumed was sugar and vanilla, and whatever else he would need.  "Why are you still standing there?"

"Kiss me and don't miss this time."

Lars shook his head. "You're sick. Go back to your clown movie."

"It's called IT! But Its real name is the dead lights!" Kirk huffed and shuffled back to the nest he made on the couch. 

Half an hour later Lars padded in holding two mugs. He had made an effort. Little marshmallows, chocolate shavings, and caramel syrup floated on top. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

“Be careful it’s hot.”

“Thanks, mom!” Kirk took a sip and then spit it out. The mug was on the table and the guitarist laughing.

"Is it that bad?" "Stop laughing!" The wanna-be cook tried his experiment and barely swallowed the chocolatey beverage. “Kirk, what did I do wrong?”

Another coughing fit and a few sneezes forced the laughter to come to an end. "You used salt instead of sugar." 

“I’m never cooking again!”

“There’s some instant cocoa on the shelf above the microwave. Add a cup of milk to it and microwave it for two minutes. Even you can’ fuck that up.”

“This movie makes no sense.”

“I’ll explain once you get back.”

When Lars returned there were several whiteboards with pictures, and writings all connected with red string. “When did you make all of these?”

“At night when I can't sleep. Now shut up and pay attention. It all started billions of years ago with a protector the space turtle, a shapeshifter the dead lights, or IT, but before that there was the other.  The turtle had a stomach ache and threw up the universe. The dead lights found ours and landed on earth. It fell asleep for 27 years and woke up to feast on victims. Which stated the 27-year cycle…..”

 Lars tried to pay attention and follow along but he was more interested in watching his lover's eyes light up as he talked about a horror movie. Slowly the spell was broken by the worsening chills and coughing fits. “Kirk.” The tangent continued. “Kirk.”

“Then you have the kids and mmmhhhmp” He pulled away from the kiss. “You didn’t miss this time and I thought I was too sick for that.”

“That was the only way to shut you up.” He felt the other man’s forehead. “You’re burning up again. Come and lay down with me and you can watch whatever movie you want. Explain why everything is made of turtle barf later.”

“Turtle barf that’s what you got from the last half hour?” 

“Shut up!”

[whump-card]

This Death That I Chose: Chapter 7

1350 words

CW: discussion of self harm, injury care, manipulation, conditioning, derogatory language, discussion of past noncon, fade to black dubcon, pet whump, character referred to as “kid” is an adult

First, Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

“Got it!” Tao burst back into Karlo’s room with the first aid kit, ready to patch up the young man’s thumb. He would have brought Faye to take care of it, but when he said he was going to Karlo had looked at him with big eyes and asked hesitantly, “Can you do it?” and how could Tao say no to that?

He sat on the bed and popped the first aid kit open, digging out antiseptic wipes. He ripped open one of the little packages and made a come here motion at Karlo. Karlo leaned forward and offered his hand, which Tao pulled onto his lap. Karlo inhaled sharply when the wipe made contact with the bite mark.

“So,” Tao said, as he gently cleaned the wound and the smeared blood on Karlo’s palm, “You did this to yourself?”

When he looked over, Karlo had his head slightly bowed and was gazing at Tao through his eyelashes.

“I didn’t mean to,” Karlo murmured, “I just got overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” Tao tossed aside the used wipe and uncapped a tube of antibiotic ointment. “Is that something you do often? Hurt yourself?”

Karlo shook his head. “No, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Tao smeared the ointment on Karlo’s thumb and then started hunting through the kit for an appropriately sized band-aid.

“I’m not worthy of your kindness,” Karlo said softly.

“Oh, don’t even start,” Tao chided, “We’re not trading you back for anything.” He found a finger band-aid and applied it to Karlo’s thumb, carefully peeling away the paper from the sticky sections and wrapping it firmly. “All done,” he announced, setting Karlo’s hand down palm-up on his knee.

Karlo leaned forward a bit further, nearly touching his forehead to Tao's shoulder. He rolled his hand over to rest his palm on the older man’s thigh.

“Is there any way I could… pay you back?” he breathed.

“Aww,” Tao patted his hand, “Don’t worry about it, kid.” He stood and gathered the trash he’d generated, and closed up the first aid kit.

“Are you – are you leaving?” Karlo sounded confused.

“Yeah, so,” Tao rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, “The community decided, not only are we keeping you, we’re going to make our final run for Canada. Since you said the Commander knows we’re here. I need to help organize people and pack up supplies.”

“Can you please stay?” Karlo pulled his knees up, chewing his lip.

“I really can’t,” Tao said regretfully, “But Hannah will look after you today, alright?”

Karlo shook his head. “But I don’t know her.”

“Uhh…” Tao scoured his options, then snapped his fingers. “How about Vic? He’s my friend, I trust him.” But didn’t quite trust him to be organized enough to be effectively helpful at packing supplies – Vic was a genius in a fight, that’s why he was a Watch leader, but his personal space always looked like a bomb had just gone off. Becca and Tao wouldn’t miss him today.

“Your friend,” Karlo echoed.

“Yeah, would that be okay?”

Karlo didn’t look satisfied, but he nodded.

Tao left, somewhat pleased that Karlo seemed to be taking a liking to him. He still couldn’t get a clear read on the boy’s real personality, though. Karlo had been, in turn, defiant, terrified, unflappable, and now, a bit lonely. Tao couldn't help but wonder what Karlo would be like once he accepted he was safe. He remembered the bright smiles in Marina’s photo collection, and his heart twinged. Would Karlo ever get that smile back?

~~~

“You must be Vic,” the young man sitting up in the bed smiled shyly. His eyes darted up and down Vic’s figure where he stood in the door; tall, muscular, with a shaved head and dark blond eyebrows. Like Tao and the other Watchmen, he carried a gun.

“And I hear you’re Karlo,” Vic replied, politely returning the smile.

“Actually, I – I really prefer Lark.”

Vic had been on the receiving end of more than one conversation with Becca about respecting people’s preferred names and pronouns, so he shrugged.

“Lark it is.”

He closed the door and moved over to sit in the chair next to Lark’s bed.

“Tao told me you’re feeling a little lonely?”

“Yes, sir.” Lark’s voice was soft and pleasant, very unlike the feverish shrieks that had come out of him the last time Vic had seen him. Vic chuckled.

“You know, I’m always trying to get the Watchmen to call me sir. It never sticks.”

Lark tilted his head, curious.

“I thought Mr Tao was in charge of the Watch.”

Vic cleared his throat.

“Well, it – it’s shared. We’re both in charge.”

“Hmm,” was Lark’s only response. It sent a twitch of annoyance through Vic – not at Lark, but at Tao. They were supposed to be joint leaders of the watch, but with how impulsive Tao was he usually ended up giving orders first. Tao’s older age also commanded another level of respect, while Vic was only in his thirties. He changed the subject.

“You must be glad to hear we’re heading for Canada. The Commander won’t be able to get to you there.”

“Actually, I…” Lark bit his lip and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“What is it?” Vic frowned.

“I…” Lark glanced nervously at Vic, then away. “I miss him. My master. Is that bad?”

“No, no!” Vic rushed to reassure him, “You’ve just… been through a lot, that’s all.”

Lark nodded.

“I just – I haven’t been touched, by anyone except doctors for the past two weeks, and… I feel like I might wither away, or something. I miss him so much.”

Vic wasn’t sure how to respond to this admission, so he just bobbed his head. “Right.”

“Well, what about you?” Lark turned to look at him with wide, shimmering eyes, “You’re so handsome, sir, you must have someone.”

Vic couldn’t help but flush.

“I don’t, but. Thanks.”

“Oh… How long has it been?” Lark asked innocently.

“It’s been…” Longer than Vic cared to admit. “A while.”

“I can’t imagine,” said Lark sympathetically, “I mean, my master fucks me every day and without it I -” he broke off, pressing a hand to his mouth, “I’m sorry, sir, I’m so sorry, that was gross.”

“I – it’s alright,” Van reassured him again.

“You don’t think I’m disgusting, sir?” Lark watched Vic fearfully, and Vic’s stomach did a flip.

“No,” he said firmly, “You’re not disgusting.”

“It’s just that… it feels like everyone else thinks so,” Lark looked away, brow furrowed with sorrow, “No will look at me or touch me… Not in the way that I want.”

Vic was captivated, staring at Lark’s sharp, mournful profile.

“What do you want?”

Lark bowed his head, picking at the corner of the band-aid around his thumb.

“It’s terrible. Nobody here understands.”

“You can tell me,” Vic found himself saying.

Lark shot him the briefest of glances before looking away again.

“I…” he took a breath, “I’m the Commander’s pet. I was made to have sex. It’s what I’m good at, and I enjoy it, and I – I miss it. But no one here would ever…”

“I could -” Vic started, before he caught himself. “I mean – I’m really sorry, I wish I could help you.” How could he even consider having sex with this traumatized young man? It didn’t matter how badly Lark wanted it, or how pretty his long silky hair was, or how beautifully his eyes shone when he was on the brink of tears; Tao and Becca would have Vic’s hide if they ever found out.

As if he could read Vic’s thoughts, Lark murmured, “No one would have to know, sir.”

“What about Faye, what if she…?”

“She just checked on me before you got here. She won’t be back until lunchtime.”

“I just – I don’t know, Lark…”

“Please?” Lark looked at Vic, catching his gaze and holding it this time. “Sir, please.”

Vic stared at Lark, at his pitiful, needy face, and all the blood rushed out of his head.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Okay.”

~~~

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[bonniebird]

dick grayson x Reader

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Dick had spent all day putting up lights and different kinds of decorations. The tower was covered in them. Light of all different colours blinked on and off. You, on the other hand, had started prepping for the gift-wrapping station.

Jason and Gar had helped you move a table to one side of the dining room, meaning that you could wrap and pile up the gifts without being in the way. When he was done Dick joined you at the table. You watched him wrap and upon realising that he was doing nothing more than wasting your colour-coordinated paper you assigned him to write out the tags. Which went well. He cut the tape, you cut the paper and wrapped and he stuck everything down where you pointed to. Then he wrote out the tag while you started on the next gift. You’d thought everything was going well until he yelled. “Ahhh!” You looked at him, frowning and trying to see what had happened.

“Are you almost done?” You asked. He was finishing the last tag.

"Ah! I spelled Donna’s name wrong on the gift tag! It was the last one." Dick said and held up the tag. You could see that he’d missed out an ‘n’ in her name. You set down the scissors and rolled up the last of the paper that you’d carefully managed to cut out for Donna’s gift. You set it to one side when it pulled off the tube and turned to a worried-looking Dick. Then you proceed to whack him with the tube as hard as you could.

“Do! You! Know! How! Hard! I have! Tried!” You said. Each word punctuated with a wack. “I had to help Jason do his shopping. I had to teach Connor about all the different kinds of holidays and take him all over the city so he could find which one he’d like to celebrate! I had to help Gar when he turned into a tiger and accidentally ate a string of tinsel! Now you ruin my very last gift tag!” 

“Hey! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Dick laughed a little as he snatched the tube from you and wrestled you into a hug to stop you from yelling and swinging the tube at him.

“The store was sold out of those tags. We can’t get any more.” You complained. Dick sighed and reached for his phone. “What if I phone Bruce and ask him to find some more? I’m sure they’ll have some for him.” Dick compromised. You crossed your arms and waited for him to call. He explained that Alfred had picked up and that he wouldn’t be able to get back to either of you until the next day. 

When Alfred said the next day you thought he’d meant last minute. However, at six in the morning, there was a knock on the door. One of the assistants you’d recognized from a Wayne party. She had a box in her hands that you assumed was a new pack of gift tags. Dick shuffled into the room looking tired. He must have gotten up early as he looked like he’d been in the gym for a while.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“The contract.” The assistant answered.

“We have to sign a contract to get some gift tags from Bruce?” You asked and looked at Dick who opened the box and inspected what was inside.

“No. The gift cards are from Alfred. The gift card and wrapping paper companies are from Bruce. That’s what needs your signature.” The assistant answered. You stared at her while Dick signed the papers and then handed them to you to sign as well.

“He bought the whole company?” You asked, still slightly in shock.

“Well. He couldn’t get the tags you wanted in time otherwise.” The assistant said as if you’d asked a stupid question and left with the paperwork.

“If it makes you feel better last year Jason’s videos kept getting taken down of that stupid app he was obsessed with so Bruce just bought it to fix it… and to make him quiet.” Dick explained. You shook your head and laughed a little before taking the box of tags to add one to Donna’s gift.

“I guess we won't run out next year.” You muttered and tossed the packet of tags to Dick to put away with the rest of the wrapping things.

Dick grayson tags:

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[darklydeliciousdesires]

Not One of Many - Chapter Twenty Eight.

A thousand thank you’s for your patience with this, guys! I am so bowled over with the popularity of this, I truly am. It was a risky undertaking, to write a modern day Alfie, but I’m glad you all seemed to enjoy him as much as I did writing him. 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen  Twenty  Twenty One  Twenty Two  Twenty Three  Twenty Four  Twenty Five  Twenty Six  Twenty Seven

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 5,119

Warnings - 18+ content, adult audience only. Minors DNI!

“So, I’ve said to this girl, you don’t bloody come into my wardrobe and start calling the shots, no way, petal, not happening, and I don’t bloody care who you are, what agency you represent, or which rich footballer you happen to be getting your leg over, I ain’t having it!”

Models. Oh, if they even dared try and test Magda’s authority within her sacred space, how quickly they got shut down for it. The ELLE wardrobe department was her chapel, and she didn’t allow anyone to sully the sanctity of such. It also made for some very amusing brunch conversation, especially for Mimi, who was sitting next to Beth, meeting both Magda and Kinga for the first time. The former she found a little scary, but very entertaining, it had to be said.  

“So, darling,” Kinga began, dabbing her mouth on a napkin as she looked across at Mimi. “I hear from Beth that you landed a role at London Life and Style! How is that going for you?”

Mimi politely finished her mouthful of toast before replying. “It’s going very well, thank you for asking. I’m learning the ropes, mostly over office dynamics, who to be in with, who to avoid, and how to keep my schedule running for the most efficiency, timekeeping wise. But yes, I’m really enjoying myself.” For Mimi, it all felt so wonderful, sitting there at a lovely restaurant, enjoying food that she’d paid for, feeling so professional with the three powerhouse career women in her company, invited into their world and accepted as an equal.  

It was a real shot in the arm for her, to be someone on her own and not just one of a rich man’s three girlfriends. She saw the way people viewed her so differently now she was out there under her own merit, and she partly had Beth’s friendship to thank for that.

“For you,” she spoke a little while later, holding out something wrapped in pink tissue paper. “Sorry it isn’t wrapped properly, but here. I thought you’d like it.”  

“Oh, you sweetheart,” Beth hummed, stopping their little tour of the small shopping arcade, taking her gift and unwrapping it gently. There inside was a dainty silver bangle with a heart charm from the small jewellery shop they’d just visited. She’d wondered why Mimi had suddenly scurried to the counter without showing her the purchase she was about to make. “Mims! It’s lovely! Thank you so much!” she cooed, placing it on her wrist and pulling her into a hug. “You shouldn't have, though! Didn’t you mention your rent was going to be a struggle?”

“Not any longer! We found a fourth person for the last room in the house, so that’s saved me a hundred quid a week, and even more with the share of the bills, too!” Her original plan to share with friends in Notting Hill hadn’t been successful, losing out on the property. They’d since found a lovely townhouse in Islington to rent, though, the fourth person now making such a property a much more pocket friendly abode. It also only took fifteen minutes on the tube to get to work.  

“Oh, that’s great! I’m so pleased for you! Oh, and before I forget, Alfie suggested the 18th for our night out, if you and Josh can make it then?”  

Mimi nodded brightly. “Yes, I’ll put it to him when I see him later, but I think that should be fine! He’s a bit nervous, bless him, but I’m so glad he’s fine with the idea of me and my ex being friends. I mean, no disrespect to Alfie, he’s my bestie, but like I told Josh, I’m becoming more your friend now as we see each other quite often.”

She was right, too, Beth thought, since she did usually see Mimi once a week now, for brunch and shopping, or to go and ride the horses together, sometimes a mix of it all, as they were doing that day after their shopping trip had concluded, Beth driving them out to the stables for a couple of hours riding over the fields. After their lovely ride out, they returned to London to have a nice afternoon with Amira, meeting up for a coffee and a walk through Richmond Park before Mimi went out on her date with Josh, the women all taking a seat and enjoying the blissful warmth of the late summer sunshine.

“Isn’t it a bloody beautiful day, girls?” Amira chirped, adjusting her sunglasses, her face absolutely pristinely made up. She’d been on a photoshoot since the early hours of the morning, so had arrived in full glam to meet her friends, Mimi sitting with her bag in her lap, rummaging through all the free skincare samples she’d received courtesy of the company she’d worked the job for.

“Can I have these?” she asked, Amira waving her hand.

“Get in there and take anything you want!” she enthused kindly. “They gave me so much, and I’ll never use it. Beth, there’s some lavender setting spray in there, wait a minute.” Reaching over into Mimi’s lap, she rummaged, pulling the bottle out and passing it over. “Here, I know you love the smell, and I can’t bloody stand it, so go on! Oh, and try this lotion as well, it’s so nice! They gave me above five of the same one!”

“Well, first Mims treating me to jewellery and now you giving me skincare goodies,” Beth began, Amira comically continuing.

“Face mask, toning water, pillow mist.”

“I feel very spoiled!” she finished, laughing at the rate the products came her way. “You’re only doing this so you don’t have so much to lug home, aren’t you?”

Amira widened her eyes. “Ahh, shit. You caught me out!” The women shared laughter, Mimi finished with her raiding for freebies and handed Amira her bag back, falling into conversation as they caught up with one another. Beth was having fun doing just that, when the incessant ringing of her phone disturbed it.  

“I’m so sorry,” she began, polite as always. “If I don’t take it, they’re just going to keep on calling me.”

“No, it’s fine,” Mimi reassured her as she answered her phone. They chatted between each other while Beth took the call, her exclaimed cry of ‘what?’ making them sit up and take notice, Amira kindly shuffling her hair around to place a caring hand on her arm when she noticed tears pooling in her eyes.  

“Are you okay, chick?” she asked, as soon as Beth had finished the call.  

“No, I’m not. I’m bloody furious!” she began, Mimi quick to offer a paper napkin across the table, Beth thanking her with a sniff. “That fucking woman! She’s now taken to emailing one of my editors about me, apparently warning him off hiring me!” she took a breath, drying her eyes and swallowing hard. “That was Piers Taylor on the phone, editor of Southside City, one of the magazines I freelance for. Luckily because we’ve had a sterling relationship for many years, he paid it no mind, only calling to give me the heads up on it, but still! She’s interfering with my bloody work now, and I will not have it!”  

Amira shook her head, continuing her affectionate rubbing of her arm, while Mimi picked up her own phone. “This ends now.”  

“Mims, what are you doing?” Beth asked.

“I’m calling her, putting a flippin’ stop to this!” Opening FaceTime, she was connecting the call before Beth had a chance to stop her, but by the time Talia had answered, she wasn’t entirely sure whether she did want to cease what Mimi was about to do. “Right, you listen to me, and you fucking listen good! We had the grace to part ways with Alfie amicably and not try to wreck his new girlfriend’s life, and I’m telling you now, you need to do the same!”

“Mimi, what the fu...” This was as far as Talia got.

“No, I’m talking, right!” Beth and Amira shared wide eyes there, neither having witnessed that amount of ire come from their cheery little friend before, not ever. “What you’re doing, yeah, it’s bloody wrong! He isn’t going to get back with you, no matter how much you hate Beth. Interfering in her work now too? Spraying Alfie’s car? Like, what the fuck? Where do you draw the line?”

“I draw the line in stating to you what I did to Alfie, this isn’t coming from me! It really isn’t! I’m fucking done with being accused of something I haven’t had anything to do with. Now, will the lot of you just fucking leave me alone! I’m happy, I’ve moved on, got a new boyfriend, I don’t need this shit, Mimi! Don’t call me again, in fact, I’m blocking you. Piss off!”

“Oh my god!” Amira cried once the call had ended, covering her mouth with her hand. “Shit, babe. You really gave it to her!”

Beth was too stunned to speak for a moment, but when she did, it was with an observation that cut the lingering anger from the air entirely. “I think you channelled Alfie a bit there, using the words right and yeah as punctuation.” They all shared laughter, Mimi shaking her head as she slipped her phone away. 

While she might have felt better for chewing her out to begin with, something just wasn’t sitting right with her, that something being that she honestly, deep down, didn’t think Talia was lying. She knew when she was, and seeing her there on the screen, her vehemence had been so very clear. She knew that sharing such a doubt would likely upset Beth, though, so for the sake of her friend, put it away at the back of her mind, but made a mental note to broach it at a later time with her.  

“Right, well I’m going to love you beautiful ladies and leave you,” Mimi began, getting up. “Give me hugs, you gorgeous people!” They instantly granted her such. She wanted a long bath before going out with Josh later that evening, so was heading back to the front of Richmond Park, where they’d met up, Amira and Beth walking with her before turning back the way they came, Amira picking them up a couple of fresh coffees from the small outdoor cart by the main gate.  

“Don’t drink it yet, babe!” she warned, Beth about to take a sip. “It’s fucking steaming hot, I just burned my bloody lip on it!”  

“Appreciated, thanks,” Beth chirped, the women taking the small path that led them away from the main hub of activity, out towards where the many wild deer of the park grazed contently.  

“So, what articles are you working on at the moment?” Amira asked, falling into step at her side.  

“Right now, I’m up to my ears in researching about a huge one relating to what we’re learning is likely considered cult like activity, a group of people over in America we’re researching. Myself and Kinga are working on it as a team, in fact, since it’s such a huge undertaking.” Amira’s eyes widened.

“What, are we talking an expose or something?”

Beth nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Yes, so we need to get our ducks in a row. It points a finger at a certain prominent individual within the corporate investment world, hence why we have a lot of ground to cover, people to interview, you know, the usual. It’ll be the biggest piece in my career to date, and I’m even receiving advice from Steve as I go, over the legalities of such, since it’s obviously an undertaking with many legal ramifications.”  

“Blimey!” Amira exclaimed, looking bowled over by the magnitude of it, asking what she could as they continued to walk.  

Meanwhile, Mimi was keeping an eye out for her Uber, watching the car move slowly along on the app, thinking he was likely stuck in traffic leading down towards the entrance to the park, since a horse-drawn hearse had just passed by. She thought how grand it was, the beautiful, black horses with their full plumage, pulling the immaculate carriage containing a coffin covered in white lilies. What a fitting way to give someone an elegant send off.  

Noticing that through her own equine endeavours (namely riding out in the rain without her gloves on) she was beginning to get chapped fingers, she rooted around in her bag, having a look through the many samples for the tube of hand cream Amira had gifted her.  

“Avocado oil, eye cream, exfoliator, peanut oil. Oh, shit. I didn’t ask her if I could have one of those,” she began, muttering to herself. “Ahh, doesn’t matter. I saw she had another.” Continuing her search, something suddenly hit her like a thunderbolt. Peanut oil. It wasn’t something commonly used in skincare. It also wasn’t a sample size. As all the little pieces that didn’t make sense suddenly fitted together, Mimi’s eyes widened in horror.  

She was sure Talia wasn’t lying.  

The harassment had to have been coming from someone they both knew.

Beth was deathly allergic to peanuts.

“Oh, Jesus!” she gasped on a sob, turning at a run, almost knocking a lady behind her clean off her feet. “I’m sorry!” she called back as she ran flat out down the path...

“Awwww, Beth look at the baby!” Amira cooed as the women came to a stop to watch the deer in the middle distance, one of the small fawns haphazardly trotting along after its mother on brand new, shaky long legs.  

“Absolutely precious,” she confirmed, taking a sip of her coffee, glad it was now cool enough to do so. Immediately, she felt that something wasn’t right, her lips starting to tingle, her throat starting to itch. She swallowed, feeling her airway beginning to tighten, panic setting in.  

“Beth, what’s up?” Amira asked, grasping her arm gently.  

“Peanuts... in the coffee... something with nut extract.” she rasped, Amira’s mouth falling open.  

“Those stupid people! I told them one was for someone with a nut allergy and checked that nothing had bloody peanuts! Fuck! Right, give me your bag. You’ve got your EpiPen, haven’t you?” Beth nodded through a wheeze, her throat tightening dramatically, passing her bag over, Amira crouching as she opened it and began to root through. “Bloody hell, mate, you’ve got so much in here!”  

She frantically rooted through until she found the orange tube containing it, straightening up again, watching as Beth fought for air. “Is this it? Beth, is this what you need?” Her rapid nods through each panicked breath confirmed it, Beth reaching, a feeling of cold dread snapping through her when Amira’s face darkened in an instant, snatching the EpiPen away. “You took what was mine, so now it’s only fair I take something of yours. Bye.” Dropping her bag to the ground, Amira turned and ran, leaving Beth standing there, with no lifeline, nothing to stop her throat from rapidly closing. It was her... it had been her all along.

Blind terror hit her square in the chest, trying to fight for air, not able to get as much as her tingling lungs required, her tongue and lips inflating, falling to the ground, searching her surroundings for someone, anyone who might have noticed her drop, suddenly then hearing her name being screamed over and over.  

“Beth! Beth, I’m here, I’m here!” Mimi, thank the stars, she wasn’t alone. “Where’s your EpiPen? I know what she did, I bloody worked it out!” Grasping Beth’s bag, she upended it onto the path, searching, panicking when she couldn’t see it anywhere, the vital piece of kit needed to prevent her friend from going into full-blown anaphylaxis. At not seeing it there, she knew then there was truly no limit to what Amira was prepared to have done in the name of cold-blooded revenge, obviously swiping it before hightailing it away, leaving Beth to her fate. “It isn’t here, it isn’t here! Fuck, what do I do? Fuck!”

No. This couldn’t happen.

“Help us, please! Help!” Mimi screamed, trying to lift Beth’s head back to open her swollen airway. “She can’t breathe! Please help us, someone! I need an EpiPen!” Turning back to Beth, she clutched her hand, stroking her head. “It’s going to be okay, babe, it will! Try to keep calm.” Pulling her phone out, she called for an ambulance, just as she witnessed two ladies running over to them, a man coming from another direction. “It’s my friend, she’s having an allergic reaction and she can’t breathe! We’re in Richmond Park, about three minutes off the pathway leading from the front gate, first little path on the left,” she began to tell the operator after dialling 999. “No, someone took her EpiPen, please hurry, she can’t breathe!”

“It’s okay, I have one, I have one,” one of the ladies who arrived with her told her, pulling it from her bag, the operator hearing and telling her to stay on the line to assess her reaction once it was administered, telling her she was sending an ambulance right away all the same. Even through her frightened tears, Mimi breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the lady prepare it, plunging it down into Beth’s thigh, a few seconds passing before she heard her take a breath, her airways opening enough to allow it.  

Mimi was shaking so hard, the man who crouched with them took her phone, explaining to the operator that the pen had been administered, his words muted to Mimi as she sobbed, stroking Beth’s face. “Are you okay, are you alright?”  

“Yes... no... I... god, Mims! If you hadn’t come back!” she sobbed, pulling her darling friend into a hug, feeling dizzy and taking her to the ground with her when she lay back, the two women crying with a mixture of residual fear and relief. They had a little moment to fall apart before Mimi helped her sit up, the two other ladies assisting, the man asking if they wanted him to wait as well, and if there was anything he could do. They told him no, but thanked him profusely, the man handing Mimi her phone before wishing them all well and departing, continuing on his jogging trail.  

“Thank you so, so much. You saved me!” Beth exclaimed, swallowing, her throat sore and still a little tight as she reached for the lady who had administered the EpiPen, watching her take her hand with a smile.

“My little boy has an almond allergy, so I have one in my bag at all times, even when he ain’t with me! You alright now, though? How do you feel?”  

“Shaken up!” As rightly anyone would, going through such. The women, who Beth and Mimi learned were called Angela and Helen stayed with them until the ambulance turned up, the paramedics assessing her at the scene and decreeing it likely the safest option to have her looked over by a doctor. Mimi cancelled her plans with Josh while Beth was being checked, telling him there’d been an emergency and she’d call him later on, making a call then to Alfie, telling him of what had happened.  

She rode in the back of the ambulance with Beth, telling her that Alfie was on his way, Mimi the first person to see him after she’d popped outside the A&E entrance, Alfie bundling her up in a hug.  

“You bloody saved her life, treacle,” he told her a little shakily, squeezing her tightly. “I know everyone used to joke about you not being the sharpest knife in the drawer, but the way you put all that together. Fuckin’ ‘ell! I just can’t... and is she alright? Can I go see her?”

Mimi kissed his cheek, squeezing his shoulders, remembering whenever he was tense, that’s exactly where that tension went to. “She’s fine, she’s obviously quite shaken up, but she’s seeing the doctor right now. I just came out here to call her mum for her and let her know what had happened.”

The truth was, Mimi only had little guesses to go on with the evidence she’d witnessed, Beth being the one to fill them in over it all after the doctor had discharged her, deeming her well enough to go home, but remain vigilant for anything further. It was as the three sat in Alfie’s lounge, the man himself bundling Beth up in a blanket and a massive hug that she shared with them exactly what had happened after Mimi had left.  

“So, we were just walking along, talking about work and watching the deer, and I took a sip of the coffee she’d bought me, which I now know why she told me not to drink while we were up on the main path, because she obviously wanted to get me far away from anyone who could help, or see what she did. I felt my lips and throat itching and swelling, and she made like she was trying to help me, looking for my EpiPen.  

“When she found it in my bag, she asked if this was what I needed, and then told me that since I’d taken something of hers, she was taking something of mine. The way she looked, her face, god, the hatred! She ran off then, I suppose from her standpoint thinking she’d just committed the perfect crime. She knew, of course, that my peanut allergy is deathly, that I could die within minutes from anaphylactic shock. She knew that right from the start, back when I was here as a journalist and she offered me some peanut butter on toast, I explained it to her then.”

She took a moment, waving her hand, feeling teary again as she leaned back against Alfie’s comforting bulk, but equally reaching for Mimi’s hand. “I know it was Angela’s EpiPen that did it, but ultimately, you saved my life today, Mims. If you hadn’t had that little wondering about the peanut oil in her bag, then all of this could have taken such a turn. I owe you a huge debt. Thank you, I love you.”

Mimi’s lip trembled, shuffling closer and throwing her arms around her, Alfie jointly hugging them both. “Aww, I ain’t had a group hug off of a few beautiful ladies in a while now!” Both women reacted at the same time, but with different words.

“Oi, enough of that.”

“Don’t you be getting any ideas!”

They shared laughter, Alfie pinching Mimi’s cheek. “Nah. I got me a great woman, and one hell of a brilliant little bestie, here. Wouldn’t change that for the world.”  

Mimi stayed only for half an hour longer, both Beth and Alfie thanking her again and again, the former telling her she’d keep her posted in case the police wanted to take her statement, Alfie calling them not long after they’d seen her into a cab at their expense at the door. With her being a little shaky still and Alfie reluctant to take her to the station in light of such, an officer came out to them to take her statement, asking too for Mimi’s details, as well as what they could give him about Amira.  

Once it was just the two of them, they sat and quietly reflected on the gravitas of the culmination.

“It’s fucking knocked me for six,” Alfie lamented, rubbing a hand over his beard, Beth next to him, Cyril half lying in her lap. He knew something different was afoot with his mummy. “I don’t half owe Talia a fuckin’ massive apology, accusing the poor cow of all this, and she ain’t even had a hand in it. I mean I know, yeah, she wasn’t exactly squeaky clean in her behaviour, but she weren’t lying when she said she’d moved on from it all. But bloody fuckin’ ‘ell, for it to have been Amira, all this time?”

Beth felt for him, to have yet another ex behave in a way that showed loud and clear that ultimately, he hadn’t known them half as well as he thought he had. “I know, she had everybody fooled into thinking she was something she wasn’t. But look, I’m fine, and it’s over now, all of this that had been hanging over us. We’re free of her messing around, her stalking, everything she was doing in an attempt to hurt me. We’ll feel the shock of it for a while, but at least we have each other. And Mims. She’s become so important to me, and she’s testament to the fact that at least with some girls, you bloody did make fantastic choices.”

He smiled then, turning to her. “I made the best one when I knew it was you I wanted my future with, though.” In the months that followed, right up until and beyond Amira facing a judge for her actions, Beth would only continue to solidify that notion, too...

Epilogue

The Burj Khalifa; it was perhaps one of the most impressive masterpieces of modern architecture in the world, the impossible height deeming it the world’s tallest building, the view from the balcony upon the 117th floor testament to that, even if it had taken Beth Solomons three days after her arrival to be brave enough to venture out upon it.  

“Ahhh, look at that,” Alfie chimed from the apartment, smiling as he watched his new bride finally step out into the sunshine. “She’s found her balls!”

Shaking her head, she blew the steam from her coffee, taking a careful sip. “Yes, admittedly I perhaps should have conquered it upon our arrival, but better late than never!”

They were in Dubai as part of their honeymoon tour, fresh from spending a week in Bora Bora, stopping off for another week in the emirates for Alfie to check in on progress at his resort currently still under construction, the huge complex now two thirds finished. His most important endeavour, though? Enjoying the break with his wife, both of them actually setting aside their need to throw themselves into their careers and instead, enjoy their life together as newlyweds.

After the chaos with Amira the previous year, Alfie had decided to propose to Beth on her birthday, just a week after Hannukah. Their families had thought it was a little rushed, but had been very happy for them all the same, Beth’s darling bubbe decreeing it to be bashert. They’d married in a beautiful ceremony in New York, at one of the most stunning synagogues in Manhattan, before they’d had their reception at The Plaza, Alfie happy to fork out the thousands upon thousands to fly all of their loved ones out there first class.  

The wedding itself had cost an eye watering seven hundred thousand dollars, and Beth hadn’t protested a moment of it, like he worried that she might. She’d eased into being the fiancé, and then the wife of a multi-millionaire with ease, once she’d gotten used to it. In fact, Alfie was well underway to making his first billion at that point, so why not celebrate with a huge, luxurious wedding? As long as he’d let her buy him a pint and lunch a few days a week, and pay her way with what she could manage, all was fine in her mind.  

It had truly been a lavish affair, Kinga and Magda acting as bridesmaids, and Alfie having Steve and Marcus as his groomsmen. His best man? Mimi. “Well, you are the best woman, ain’t ya?” he’d spoken upon asking her, his dear friend bursting into tears and hugging him as she’d accepted. Her actions in saving Beth’s life had truly cemented them as wonderful friends, Alfie standing there at his reception, watching her, Beth, Kinga and Magda dancing to Hava Nagila together, telling Steve and Marcus how unbelievably fortunate he felt, to have married a woman like Beth, and got to keep in his life someone he thought as highly of as he did Mimi.

They’d finally been able to set aside the events of the previous year just over three months previously, when Amira’s criminal case had resulted in her receiving a custodial sentence of fifteen years for attempted murder. It was what their legal team had anticipated she’d receive at best, of course all thought she should have received a heavier sentence for the cruel and vindictive premeditated plot to try and take Beth’s life, but within the legal parameters, and taking into consideration that Beth didn’t suffer any long-term harm or deliberation as a result, this was realistic. She wouldn’t be eligible for parole for at least ten, either.  

Amira was behind them, now, though, only a beautiful future ahead, Beth’s journalism going from strength to strength. Her work with Kinga to expose a cult had been one of the vital pieces of evidence to bring the figureheads of the organisation to justice for many offences, such as money laundering, human trafficking and slavery, Beth and Kinga having their names flushed to the forefront of gritty, British journalism, both even featuring in the documentary series that would air later that year, once the case had been brought to trial in America. Alfie had never been prouder of her.  

“It really is a stunning view up here,” she spoke, running a hand through her hair, the gorgeous, cushion cut diamond on her left-hand glittering in the morning sun. It still made him laugh, when he remembered her reaction to opening the box containing it and having him swiftly propose. Stunned didn’t cover it, Beth nearly scaring Cyril half to death after she’d screamed ‘yes!’ at about a thousand decibels.  

“Yeah, but it ain’t nothing compared to this one.” Turning her, he smiled, nodding. “Yeah, that’s the best view in the world for me. Whenever I’m looking at the missus.” She leaned in close, receiving the kiss he granted her with before he left her to it to go and answer his phone, Beth hearing him chatting to Marcus about how things were going with the resort.  

Sometimes, she still couldn’t believe that the decision to enter that high end bar in Chelsea to drown her sorrows in a bottle of wine she couldn’t really afford had put her on the path to where she’d ended up, but she wouldn’t change anything for the world. She was exactly where she needed to be. And then she made the critical mistake of looking down.

“Nope!” Back inside she speedily went, placing her empty mug down and wrapping her arms around her husband. Now she was exactly where she needed to be.

The End.

[white-melod1s]

Chapter 2: Snow White

Thanks to the help from the Mélodis family, the detective agency is finally looking like an official workplace. However, the inside of the agency was a different situation.

“Whoa-!” Truth cried as she tripped over a pile of books that was laying by the doorway. The box of paper she was carrying was sent flying as she braced herself for a faceplant.

In the other room, Inference had his head wrapped around a case that was entrusted to him from a few days ago. The ruckus from Truth jerked his attention back to reality as he heaved a sigh. He stood up, pulled his chair out of the way to check on her to make sure that she’s okay.

“Oops, sorry about that.” Truth made a face and scratched her head in embarrassment after seeing Inference’s polished shoes standing in the doorway. He reached out a hand to help her up. “Don’t carry too many things at once. If you need help with tidying up, as soon as I’m done with the case, I’ll help you out.”

“It’s okay.” Truth smiled. “It seems like you were given a lot of cases to crack and I’m just doing the best of my ability to at least tidying up the agency a little so we wouldn’t look too unprofessional.”

It was true. While Truth was doing her best, there are still things that look out of order and it’ll perhaps be a while before it starts to look polished so Truth wanted to do as much as she could to help out, even if she doesn’t excel at logical reasoning like Inference.

It was then the sound of scratching and rustling near the long window drape that had the duo’s attention.

“What…what that-?” Truth asked, paled in the face.

“It might be a mouse. Why?” Inference shrugged as he was about to make his way back to his desk until Truth grabbed his arm and dragged him back.

“Hold on….” She said, her voice shook a little. “Can you at least go check-?”

Mr. Inference was very confused. But he complied with her request, partially because he was also a bit curious himself. The air was quiet with tension as Truth grabbed a broom and held it defensively in front of her. As the two slowly approached the source of the noise, something jumped out from the covers of the window drape.

“Ah-!” Truth screamed and was about to hit whatever it was that zoomed out, but Inference was quick enough to stop her in her tracks. And it’s a good thing that he did, or the poor thing will be harmed.

It was a small, white kitten with emerald green orbs. The sapphire blue bow on her head was an indication that this kitten was not a stray. She looked quite scared and is currently in a defensive stance, hair standing on end as she hissed at the duo. To her, the two strangers looked like giants that could eat her up at any given moment. Poor thing was terrified as she backed off into a corner.

“Oh I’m so sorry, you poor little dear.” After realizing that it was but a kitten, Truth immediately put aside the broom and lowered herself on the ground so as to not scare the kitten. She slowly extended her hand towards the kitten for her to sniff it. The poor creature backed up even more and hissed again, seemingly louder as a warning for her to not get closer. Noticing this, Truth moved back a little so the kitten wouldn’t feel threatened.

“I think she’s stressed.” Truth noted as she looked at the kitten with sympathetic eyes. “She must’ve felt so scared that she’s at a strange place.”

“Hmm…” Inference hummed as he analyzed the kitten. He couldn’t help but notice a small belt with a test tube filled with an unknown substance that was tied around the kitten’s waist. If this kitten was just a house cat, then how do you explain the test tube?

“I think we have to be careful with this kitten.” Inference said as he pointed at the test tube. “We don’t know what’s inside there and we have to make sure to keep the liquid contained in the tube just to be safe.”

“What do you think it is?” Truth asked as she looked up at him.

“I dunno, but I don’t want to assume that it is what I think it is.”

——————————————————————

Meanwhile, the owner of the lost kitten had no idea that his beloved pet was lost. The different shapes of test tubes and colorful liquids were displayed in front of him as each were labeled neatly. At the moment, the said owner was deeply involved with inventing a new liquid as his eyebrows were knitted. His hand was steady as he put a drop of something into the boiling chemical. Then he would record the different changes that were observed for future references.

“Any changes, Gatto?” His co-worker waltzed in, humming as he rummaged through a pile of paper, seemingly trying to find something.

“Tsk.” The scientist shook his head in disappointment. “Same as last time. It looks like it won’t be completed until the lab sends the ‘mysterious liquid’ that they’ve promised but it’s been 3 days. I still don’t see Snow White coming around. Makes me wonder if this whole ‘preserving beauty’ thing is a hoax. Also, careful. I just organized those papers yesterday so don’t mess them up again, PD.”

“A-ha!.” Paranormal Detective gave a cry of triumph as he held up a piece of paper. It was the blueprint of some kind of machine that he’s been working on. “Don’t worry too much about it.” He replied, completely ignoring what Gatto had just told him about messing up the papers. “I’m sure things will work out. They always do, don’t they?”

“You’re always too optimistic for your own good….”

Gatto shook his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Not that PD’s easy going personality that was giving him a hard time, but he had been staying up all night and he hadn’t had his daily dose of coffee so he’s having a headache and he’s trying to fight it. But of course, it could not escape PD’s sharp eyes.

“Yeah, no. Off to bed with you, now.” The inventor snapped his finger and grabbed Gatto’s arm to drag him out of the lab. However Gatto refused to budge. “No, I can’t rest until Snow White gets back. It’s important that I finish this, or he will get upset and we will be forced to participate in this distasteful ‘game’ of his. Don’t you want to be freed, PD?”

The inventor froze for a second and heaved a sigh. “Of course it’s what I want. But right now, his suspicion of us is high. We have to do what we have to do in order for him to not notice anything. I know, and I see your point of view. But we have to lay low for now. I know it hurts your pride to be like this, but it is what we must do.”

Silence filled the test lab as the two stood facing each other. No words exchanged, no words needed. They both understood the kind of mess they got themselves into. Will they ever get a chance to escape?

They don’t know.

——————————————————————

“Excuse me, ma’am. But have you seen the owner of this kitten?” Truth asked as she held up the little fur ball in her arms. The lady shook her head and went on her way. Truth sighed. They’ve been asking around for a while now and still no clue as to whose kitten it belongs to. Truth was beginning to lose hope as she lowered her head in defeat.

The kitten gave a meow as she nuzzled Truth’s hand. She was immediately cheered up as she stroked the tiny creature’s fur with a small smile. Inference, on the other hand, was silent.

“What’s Mr. Sherlock up to?” Truth noticed and teased. Inference paid no mind. “I was wondering if I should contact the closest lab possible. Maybe they’ll know whose owner this kitten belongs to judging from the liquid she’s carrying. It’s a small possibility and we might be heading in the wrong direction but it’s an option nonetheless.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Truth nodded. “Should we ask Désire for help? Since he’s an aristocrat, I’m sure his wide social circle could provide us with some kind of support.”

Inference sighed. “I don’t like to ask him for help, but it seems like this might be the case.”

“Well then. Time to pay the Mélodis Estate a visit!”

——————————————————————

“I see.” Désire nodded his head as he heard the entire story. “I do know one lab that is close-by and it’s the Ulliel Laboratory. They’ve been a long scientific research center for the Mélodis family and I hope this piece of information will prove to be helpful to you in your mission.” He smiled. “I, in fact, need to pay them a visit myself but sadly I could not go due to the many duties I must attend to as head of the family. However, if it’s not too much work, may I ask that Siegfried come along with you in place of me?”

“Oh no, not inconvenient at all!” Truth waved her hand and smiled. The more the merrier, right, Mr. Inference?”

“I suppose you’re right.” The said detective replied quietly.

“Alright! Let’s go then!”

When they stood up, Désire pulled Siegfried aside. “Keep an eye on them.” He whispered, eyeing the duo. “And check the progress of things once you’re there, but make sure Inference and Truth are gone. I don’t want them messing things up, is that understood, Noir?”

Siegfried rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t you think you’re too paranoid?”

“You can never be too careful. And remember, Noir, the Mélodis family have no use for useless people. Just a reminder from your beloved older brother is all.”

There is that reminder again. Siegfried gritted his teeth. But he couldn’t go against Désire. He balled up his fist and nodded silently, swallowing up his pride in the process.

Seeing Siegfried’s obedience, Désire smiled and patted his shoulder. “Now go. Have fun~”

——————————————————————

“Ulliel Laboratory, how may we-” PD was taken aback when he saw who was knocking on the door. “Inference! What brought you here?”

“Oh, PD. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Inference’s tone was calm, but his face of surprise betrayed him.

“Oh, you two know each other?” Truth asked as she looked from the two to the other.

“Yeah. This guy is my pen pal.” PD laughed and hooked an arm around Inference’s shoulder. Even though Mr. Inference was not fond of the action, he did not push PD away.

“Oh, nice to meet you!” Truth smiled and held out a hand. “I’m Truth, Inference’s partner in crime. it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

PD shook her hand with his free hand. “Pleasure.” He replied, then that’s when he noticed the kitten in Truth’s arms. “Oh, isn’t that Snow White? Gatto’s been worried sick about her.”

“Ah?” It was Inference’s turn to be confused. “I thought you worked alone.”

“Nope. At first I didn’t like working with him but he usually has his head buried in his experiments so it’s not like he’ll bug me much.” PD shrugged.

“Is he the owner of the kitten?” Truth asked.

“Yeah, he is. Hold on, lemme go get him. Gatto-”

“What?” A lazy voice answered the call as a tall young man with platinum hair stood by the doorframe rubbing his eyes. The eye bags under his eyes were visible as he tried his best to stay awake. Then, his eyes lit up when he saw Snow White in Truth’s arms. “Ah, Snow!”

Without a second word, he took the kitten from Truth’s arms and held her. The kitten gave a content meow and purred while he held her. “Aww, she’s happy now that she’s back with her owner.” Truth noted as she stroked the kitten’s small head. “Isn’t it a good thing, Inference?”

Inference didn’t reply. He was analyzing the scientist before him. Something about him felt off but he couldn’t tell what it was about him exactly. Something that he didn’t like.

It was at that moment, Gatto looked up and saw Inference. When he looked behind Inference, his eyes widened as he looked on in fear. PD seemed to notice as he also took a look at where Gatto was looking at.

“What are you- Siegfried Mélodis? What are you doing here?”

[supercantaloupe]

okay well. i still haven't come up with a title for this but i don't feel like letting it just sit in my docs in the dark anymore. here's that modern au don g thing for you. oneshot, about 3.6k.

He wakes to the sound of steady beeping and the vague humming of electronics and machinery. Then, bright fluorescent lights, which he squints against the moment he tries to crack his eyes open. Then, the pain.

“Ghhrgh,” he groans, trying to sit up and immediately regretting it. Everything is hot and tingly and it hurts--

“Woah,” someone says, and he feels a hand on his chest lightly pushing him back against the pillow. “Easy. I wouldn’t try to move much if I were you.” He eases back against the pillow and squints to let his eyes adjust, and sees the woman in scrubs fiddling with a remote beside the bed until it raises him into a position somewhere between sitting and laying. 

“Wh--” he tries to say, and immediately regrets it, his words turning into a hacking cough as soon as they leave his mouth. His throat burns. “Where am I?” he asks, and his voice is raspy.

“Saint John’s Hospital,” the nurse answers. “How are you feeling today? Can I get you anything?”

“Bad,” he wheezes. “Water, please.”

The nurse leaves the bedside to grab a paper cup by the sink and fill it at the faucet. She brings it over and gently hands it to him, saying, “I’ll ask the doctor to adjust your pain medication.” Moving around the other side of the bed to note something on a clipboard, she adds, “You have visitors waiting to see you, would you like me to bring them in yet?”

He considers this blankly and slowly drinks his cup of water. His throat is sore and dry and it hurts to swallow, but still the cold water is soothing. “Sure,” he finally says, wondering who exactly would be waiting for him.

The nurse hangs the clipboard up and adjusts something on the IV, then heads for the door. “I’ll let them in,” she says, then disappears into the hallway. He takes the moment of quiet to look around and take in the situation. The hospital room is unremarkable, sterile and white and filled with equipment he doesn’t know the precise purposes of. There’s a clock on the wall, reading about 6:52, but he can’t tell if it’s morning or evening. There’s an IV tube attached to his hand and held in place with a bit of tape; his arms and hands are wrapped with bandages here and there, with the odd patches of undressed skin looking red and patchy. A thin blanket covers his body from the waist down, and in place of clothes he’s draped in a loose, papery hospital gown.

He snaps out of his thoughts when the door practically crashes open, and people spill in. “Leporello!” one of them cries, pushing her way through the small crowd to the front.

He immediately flinches, lifting his arms up over his head and hunching down, the sudden movement sending a flare of pain through his body. “I’m sorry! I didn’t start the fire, I swear!” he cries, his voice hoarse.

Elvira stops moving forward mid-step, wincing at his reaction. “Geez,” somewhere behind her and off to the side, she hears Zerlina comment. “He looks terrible.”

“Zerlina!” Masetto scolds in an attempt at a whisper. 

“What? He does,” Zerlina counters. 

“I do?” Leporello asks, lowering his arms slowly and looking them over. Zerlina and Masetto on the right, Anna and Ottavio on the left, Elvira in the front, all staring him down with varying levels of concern, confusion, and determination. 

“Here,” Elvira exhales, fetching her phone from her pocket. She opens the camera and holds it up for him to use as a mirror. His face isn’t quite as splotchy as his arms and hands, but it certainly doesn’t look pretty either, and his stubble is patchy at best, hair singed and awkward. He grimaces at his reflection, and Elvira takes the phone back. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“We saw you getting loaded into the ambulance by the paramedics,” Zerlina says. “With the, mask thing on,” she continues, making a gesture with her hand over her face. 

“I don’t know,” he says, gently lifting a hand and mimicking her gesture. The fog in his brain starts to clear, and he vaguely remembers the feeling of the oxygen mask, the rattling of the gurney, while he was drifting in and out of consciousness. He glances among their ranks once more. “Where’s-- where’s Giovanni?”

They look among each other. “We were hoping you knew that,” Ottavio answers, staring him down with a strange look. 

Leporello fiddles with the empty paper cup. His mouth still feels dry, he wishes he had some more water. “I don’t know,” he admits. 

“He was in the house with you, right?” Ottavio presses.

“Yes, but I don’t know what happened to him,” Leporello says. “I didn’t see-- I passed out,” he stammers. “I vaguely remember the firefighters, and the paramedics, but I really-- I don’t remember anything. I just woke up here. They had to-- they must’ve pulled him out too. He must be in another room.”

“You--” Ottavio starts, leaning forward.

“Love, please,” Anna says gently, her hand on his arm. He glances back at her and stops. 

“He’s--” Leporello coughs, reading their expressions. “He’s not here?”

“They only pulled one body out of the house,” Masetto starts cautiously, after a beat of awkward silence. 

“Alive body,” Zerlina adds quickly. 

Leporello pales. “Then he’s--?” he starts, choking on the last syllable. 

“We don’t know,” Ottavio cuts in again, his face stony. “...They didn’t find anybody else….Living or otherwise.”

A beat. “There was no body?” Most of them shake their heads. “I…then…” Leporello tries to say, words failing him. He stares down at his lap, thinking back. “It was…I don’t…” He crinkles the paper cup again, and swallows dumbly, throat parched and scratchy again. 

Elvira watches him, then glances around the room. Spying the sink, she reaches for it; Zerlina catches on, and, standing closer, moves over to grab another cup and fill it at the sink. She hands it to Elvira, who passes it on to Leporello. He glances up at her as she offers it to him, and he takes it, drinking it down gratefully.

“Okay,” he says, when the cup is empty. “I know where he is. Well, I know where he’s not. But…you won’t believe me.”

Brows furrow. “What do you mean?” Ottavio asks, while Masetto says, “Just tell us.”

“Okay, okay, but…don’t be mad,” Leporello cautions. “He’s not, uh, here, anymore. He’s gone.” 

“Gone,” Zerlina repeats.

“Gone! Okay, gone where?” Ottavio asks firmly. 

“I don’t know, okay!? He’s just gone!” Leporello answers defensively. “He was having one of his parties and, and--” His eyes dart over to Anna, and a pang of guilt hits his heart over what he’s about to say. “--Your father was there -- I don’t know how, alright!? -- But he was there, like a ghost or something, and he showed up -- you saw him too,” he adds, looking to Elvira, who stares at him like a deer in the headlights (he can’t bear to look at Anna anymore; it’s like a knife plunged into her heart, her expression). “--And he grabbed him, and wouldn’t let go, and Giovanni wouldn’t give in, and -- I couldn't reach him -- and then, the fire--” Leporello stammers through the story, getting worked up. His face feels hot, not just from the burns, but from everyone’s searing stares. “He just…took him away. I don’t know where, or how, I didn’t see anything else -- the fire, I -- but he’s…gone. I know that. Not coming back. He’s just…gone.”  

Silence. A bit stunned, a bit disbelieving. 

“You have to believe me,” Leporello pleads softly. He makes eye contact with Elvira again, and reaches over to her. She steps back, just out of his reach. “You saw him too, didn’t you? It was real, I swear.”

A stifling silence falls over the room. Leporello feels he might cry, if he wasn’t so parched still. 

“So,” Ottavio finally breaks the quiet. His voice is low and cold. “That’s it, then?”

“You don’t believe me,” Leporello says, more a statement for himself than a question. Ottavio opens his mouth to respond, but comes up empty. Leporello chuckles once, hollow and humorless. “Well, don’t then, but that’s the truth. Giovanni is just…”

“Let’s go, Zerlina,” Masetto says as Leporello trails off, taking Zerlina by the hand. She looks up at him, then glances back at Leporello.

“No, yeah, please, you two,” he says, coughing a little, and trying not to sound sarcastic. “Go on with your lives, please. He’s gone. You can go home, it’s fine.” 

They both regard him for a moment longer before Zerlina nods and Masetto turns to follow her out of the room. As they go, Ottavio moves to follow, taking Anna by the hand.

“Anna,” Leporello says, and they stop, looking back at him. “I’m-- I’m really sorry-- I’m telling the truth, I swear, I just…I’m sorry, for everything.” 

She bites her lip and glances away. Leporello thinks she’s fighting tears, and he can’t blame her; he couldn’t bear to look at himself if he were in her position, that’s for sure. Ottavio again moves to lead her out of the room, and she starts to go with him. Elvira locks eyes with Leporello for a second before following them out of the room. Leporello groans and falls back against his pillow.

“Shit,” he sighs, closing his eyes. 

In the hallway, Elvira catches up to Ottavio and Anna. “May I have a word with you, Anna?” she asks, pausing her stride. Anna pauses too, looking at her, and Ottavio follows suit reluctantly.

“We ought to get going,” Ottavio says. 

“Just for a moment, please,” Elvira replies.

“You can chat on the way,” he says, taking another step.

“Ottavio,” Anna says gently, and he stops in his tracks. “It’s alright. I’ll meet you downstairs.” He makes a face like he wants to protest again, then sighs, nods, and proceeds down the hall without them. When he’s out of sight, Anna turns back to Elvira. “What is it?” she asks.

“I know it sounds absurd, but, he really is telling the truth,” Elvira says, in a soft voice. “About-- about your…”

“My father,” Anna finishes for her. Her voice catches on the second syllable, like a hiccup or a sob. Elvira nods. Anna takes her hands. “So you saw--?”

“Only briefly,” Elvira answers. “I didn’t believe it at first -- I mean, I don’t even know how I recognized him, he didn’t look…but -- I was there, I tried to knock some tiny bit of sense into Giovanni’s head, and he wouldn’t have any of it, and as I was leaving, he was, I mean, your father, he was at the door…I left so quickly, it was so startling, and then there was the fire, but…I saw him. It wasn’t a lie, he was there.”

Elvira feels Anna squeeze her hands gently. Her eyes and cheeks are moist, and though her voice quivers, she says, “I believe you.”

Elvira nods, and feels as if she may cry, too. “Okay. Good.”

“Thank you,” Anna adds, nodding as well. She squeezes Elvira’s hands again, and offers a small smile, before turning and heading down the hallway to go. Elvira watches, then sniffles and wipes her eye, then turns back and re-enters Leporello’s hospital room.

Hearing the door, Leporello opens his eyes again and turns his head to look. “You’re back?” he asks, expecting the nurse, not Elvira.

“Anna believes you,” Elvira says simply. “I don’t know about the others, but Anna believes you.” 

Leporello studies her for a moment. “You did see him,” he says, again a statement more than a question. Elvira nods. Leporello sighs and lets his head fall back, looking up at the ceiling. “What time is it?”

Elvira glances at the clock on the wall. “About 7:15.”

“Is it morning or night?”

“Oh, uh, morning.”

Leporello breathes, then coughs a bit, throat still ragged, like torn-up pavement. “Are you alright? You look…” he starts, then pauses, realizing he had no end to that sentence yet that didn’t sound rude. “...well, not as bad as me, but…”

“I’m fine,” Elvira says, frowning. “What do I look like?”

“Like you’ve been up all night,” Leporello answers, turning his head to look at her again. Her hair is pulled back in a loose, messy bun, her makeup looks old and smudged, her outfit the same one he remembers from just before the fire.

“Well,” Elvira starts, plopping herself down in the chair in the corner of the room with an exhale. “I have been.”

“You should have gone home and rested,” Leporello says. “Giovanni’s gone, anyhow. You didn’t need to come see me.”

“I waited for you,” Elvira corrects. “I needed to make sure you were alright.”

Leporello is quiet for a moment. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I couldn’t just watch the paramedics haul you into the ambulance and leave it at that.”

“Sure you could’ve--”

“I mean, you looked terrible, Leporello, you might’ve died.” 

He doesn’t respond to that for a moment, and looks blankly at the ceiling again. 

“And yet, here I am,” he finally says, with no inflection.

“I wasn’t just going to just stand there and watch the house burn down, my God,” Elvira says, “I had to do something--”

“Wait,” Leporello says, looking back at her. It hadn’t occurred to Leporello, in the chaos of it all, how he’d even ended up at the hospital. Pulled out of the flames by firefighters, tended to by paramedics, rushed here in the ambulance, sure, that all seemed obvious, but how did the firefighters know to come in the first place? He didn’t call, and Giovanni certainly didn’t (couldn’t), and there was no one else around, except… “You called 911,” he states, not a question. Elvira looks at him quietly and nods. “...you saved my life,” Leporello adds.

“The doctors did that, and the firemen,” she protests. “Not me.”

“You called them. The security system was off, John'd disabled it when we got there, he always…and I couldn’t call. They never would’ve -- Elvira, I would’ve died without you.”

Elvira’s lips twist into a frown. “Please, let’s not…”

The door opens, interrupting them. The nurse returns, followed by a man in a lab coat. “Ah, how are you doing this morning, mister…?” the doctor asks, looking over at Leporello in the bed.

“Perez. Ethan,” he fills in, voice hoarse. He tries to clear his throat, and winces, regretting it. “Uh, bad.” 

“Second- and third-degree burns to half the body, plus a couple of bruised ribs; I’d say so. Well, let’s increase your pain medication and see how that helps, okay?” he says, nodding to the nurse. She walks around the other side of the bed and begins to set up the IV.

“I hope it’s morphine,” he mutters. The doctor chuckles. 

“Well, it should kick in soon, and then we’ll come back in and check your dressings, alright? Ring the buzzer if you need anything,” he continues.

“My throat--” he starts again, chokingly. “My throat hurts.”

“That’ll happen when you inhale superheated gas,” the doctor explains. “Would you like something for it?”

“Yes please,” he croaks in response. The doctor looks over at the nurse and she nods. 

“Alright, I’ll be back soon.” The doctor and the nurse leave the room. It’s quiet for a moment, and he goes back to staring at the ceiling, while Elvira looks him over from her seat in the corner.

“...Ethan Perez?” she repeats, breaking the silence. 

“You thought ‘Leporello’ was real?” he answers, sounding tired but not rude. “Giovanni came up with it. I don’t know where it came from.”

“Oh,” Elvira says. She feels like she should’ve known that, somehow. 

“Well,” Ethan continues, taking another deep breath and letting it out, and managing not to wheeze this time. “I estimate I’ve got about ten minutes max before the drugs kick in and I get all loopy, so, if you want to say something else, now’s probably a good time.” He lifts his hand lazily to show off the IV taped to the reddened skin.

“I…” Elvira starts, and trails off, drawing a blank. The door opens again, and the nurse returns. 

“Here you go,” she says, walking over and handing a plastic wrapped popsicle to Ethan.

“Oh,” he says, blinking and taking it gently. He’d expected a lozenge or something, not this. “Thanks.” The nurse nods and leaves again. Ethan fiddles to rip the plastic off, then blinks again and repeats himself, “oh,” noticing the bright red popsicle is one of the ones with two sticks at the bottom. He pinches each stick with each hand and pulls the halves apart, then turns and reaches to offer one half to Elvira. “Here.”

“Oh, no, thanks, it’s fine, you can have it,” she declines awkwardly.

He bounces his wrist slightly, still holding the popsicle out. “You saved my life. Have a popsicle.” 

Elvira sighs. “Alright,” she gives in, and gets up, taking the offered popsicle. Ethan relaxes back into the hospital bed and lifts his half of the popsicle to his mouth. It’s cold and sweet and surprisingly soothing going down his burned throat. 

“I haven’t had one of these since I was little,” Elvira says. 

“My sisters used to love them,” Ethan replies. “In summer, I’d take them down to the corner store, and buy two, and split them up for each of us.” He licks a bit of melted juice off the popsicle stick before it drips onto his finger. 

“You have sisters?”

“Shaina, Adi, and Miriam.” He turns the popsicle sideways, pressing the cold against his lips. “I haven’t seen them in years.” A beat, while he works at his popsicle. “Why did you come back to Giovanni’s house?” he asks, turning his head to look over at her.

Elvira thinks about this, idly rolling the popsicle stick between her fingers. “I dunno. I guess I hoped…” She sighs. “I dunno.” 

“That he’d change?” Ethan answers for her. She shrugs. “I get that.” 

“It seems stupid. Like, ‘I could fix him’ and all that.”

“No, I get it.” 

“I didn’t expect it to…end. Not like that.”

Ethan chuckles and slurps a bit more melted popsicle before it falls. “Neither did I, ha. I’m glad the others got out okay.”

God, she’d forgotten there were others, at Giovanni’s party. “They did? Oh, good.”

Ethan nods. “They got scared off when you showed up, I told them to leave out the back.” He lazily waves his half eaten popsicle in the air a bit before saying, “I wonder if they realize what they missed,” before popping it back in his mouth. “Good for them.”

“And, the, uh…the ghost…” Elvira says, failing to come up with a better description for it than that. It wasn’t a man and it wasn’t a ghost really, but it was something, and it was recognizable, somehow, and it was terrifying. She nibbles her popsicle and watches him.

Ethan shrugs. “Who knows?” He’s quiet for a moment, staring vaguely at the last little bit of his popsicle. “All I know is Giovanni’s gone.”

“And you survived,” Elvira points out. Ethan grunts and bites off the last bit of his popsicle, letting it melt on his tongue. His eyes are half-lidded, his expression calm and sleepy, his fingers rolling the pink-stained popsicle stick around between them. “Will you be alright?”

“Hm?” he asks, glancing back over at her, eyelids fluttering back to alertness.

“Will you be alright after…?” she repeats, not exactly knowing what after she meant.

“I guess,” he answers, blinking slowly. “I mean, I have no clue how I’m going to pay for any of this,” he gestures vaguely to himself, all wrapped up in gauze and tape and papery hospital cotton, “since John’s not paying for anything now…” God, he thinks about the bills already waiting for him, and the new ones accumulating every second he spends here, and presses his head back into his pillow. He’ll stress about it later, surely, but he’s growing far too drowsy to worry right now. Just forming sentences is an effort right now. “But I guess I’m still alive, so.” A beat. He shrugs again, and lets his hand drop to his lap. “Will you?”

“I…” she starts, looking down. She hasn’t really thought about it yet, honestly. “I guess,” she echoes, after another beat. “I guess, if he’s really…gone, that’s…some kind of closure, even if it’s kind of twisted…” She sighs and runs her free hand through her hair, combs her fingers through the loose strands escaped from the hastily-tied bun. “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out, I guess. I’m not going back home again, anyway, I don’t think I can…” she trails off, looking up from her lap again, and noticing Ethan’s gone still, his breathing still slightly ragged-sounding but regular now, eyes slipped closed. The popsicle stick is loose in his hand on his lap. Time’s up, she supposes; the drugs must’ve kicked in by now. Well, they could both use their rest. 

Finishing the last of her popsicle, she gets up and quietly comes over, collecting the wrapper and stick and crumpled paper cup from his lap and disposing of them in the garbage can, then rinses her hands in the sink before turning to go. Maybe she should stay to keep an eye on him, but, no, she needs to go home, she needs to eat and rest and figure out how to live now, After. She could message him, tomorrow maybe, to check in -- no, she doesn’t have his number, doesn’t even know if he still has a phone, or if it was lost in the fire too, all she has is a name. He’ll have to stay here for a while, probably, healing, just look at him, but, no, he seemed pretty embarrassed about being looked after. Uncomfortable with everyone staring him down, interrogating him. Maybe she ought to just get out of his hair and leave him be. Well, she hopes, at least, for the best for him, and leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

[berenwrites]

Whole New Us Ch16 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Whole New Us: Trauma Bonded and Beyond

A/N: This chapter is a little steamy💖

Also on AO3 | Or here CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 | CH10 | CH11 | CH12 | CH13 | CH14 | CH15 | CH16 | CH17 | CH18 | CH19 | CH20 | CH21 | CH22 | CH23 | CH24 | CH25 (Mature) | CH25 (Fade to black) COMPLETE

Summary: Steve has been ignoring his own problems, he’s been busy. They’ve all been busy, preoccupied with fixing everything that was broken. Vecna has been defeated, but the Upside Down is still there, and the gates are not completely closed even though Hawkins has almost returned to normal. It’s been a couple of months and the aftereffects of Steve’s encounter with the demobats is about to come back to bite him. However, it also brings some unexpected hope.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Rating: Teen (with mature content in later chapters)

Chapter 16.    You Scratch My Back …

True to his word, Eddie refused to leave Steve alone with any of the government people for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Even when the surprisingly nice nurse had come in to remove the various tubes Steve was attached to, including the catheter, and hadn’t that been a delight, Eddie had hovered just outside the door like a skittish cat.

They’d kept him hooked up for one more night, just in case, but that morning the doctor had given him a clean bill of health.

“Thank you,” Steve said as the nurse left.

She gave him a smile as she walked out as Eddie shot back in.

“All good?” Eddie asked.

“All good,” he replied, even if he very definitely never wanted to repeat the experience. “But now I really want to be clean and to put on some real clothes.”

He felt grimy, even though someone had given him a cursory wash since his imprisonment.

“That I can help with,” Eddie said with a smile and opened the door to the left with a flourish. “Your shower awaits, Sir Stephan.”

Steve swung his legs off the bed and Eddie was back by his side in a second.

“I’m fine,” Steve tried to protest as Eddie hovered.

“You were unconscious for three days and fall asleep at the drop of a hat,” Eddie replied, “let me worry. I am not allowing you to crack your skull open because you decided to take a nap under soothing hot water.” He leaned in close. “And I thought you might like someone to wash your back,” Eddie whispered, eyes flicking up to the security camera in the main room.

“Oh,” Steve said, “yes, you might have a point.”

“Good,” Eddie said. “And once you’re wrapped in a towel, I’ll come back and get the clothes Robin brought in for you.”

“You let Robin choose my clothes?” Steve asked in a panicked tone.

“It was her or Henderson,” Eddie told him, ushering him into the small bathroom, “and it’s not like either of them could be any worse than you at choosing.”

“Just because you see in blue and black,” Steve protested.

Eddie handed him a toothbrush and closed the door behind them.

“Stop complaining, brush your teeth, and I’ll get the shower going,” Eddie told him in his commanding DM voice.

The way Steve’s stomach fluttered at the no-nonsense tone made his face heat up. Luckily for his dignity, Eddie was already turning away. Pushing that new bit of knowledge to the back of his brain he got on and did as he was instructed, but made sure to complain about it. He really did feel more human once his mouth didn’t taste like something had died in it.

“You’re not attached to the gown are you?” Eddie asked as Steve turned round from the sink.

“No,” he replied, not sure where Eddie’s thoughts were going.

“Good,” his boyfriend said, “because, although I love the way your ass peeks out, it doesn’t do the rest of you justice.”

Steve tried to look over his shoulder, which was really dumb, but any view there might have been was quickly moot. Eddie took hold of the neck of the paper thin hospital wear and ripped it in two.

“You could have just undone the ties,” Steve pointed out with a roll of his eyes.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eddie asked with a grin, giving him a very salacious up and down.

Steve could feel the blush rising up his chest and face. The way Eddie’s eyes ate him up heated his skin.

“God, if I touch you now, we’ll never get to the shower,” Eddie said, apparently wrenching his gaze away. “I’ll get the water going.”

“I can do that,” Steve said, “you get naked.”

“But I want to look after you,” Eddie complained.

“And you can, once you have no clothes on,” he replied, leaning into the shower, and turning the dial.

Water shot out and hit the clear end of the cubicle. Putting his hand under it he waited for it to begin to heat up. Luckily it didn’t take long.

“Warm yet?” Eddie asked from behind him, and he turned.

For a moment he forgot the question because Eddie was a vision. All pale skin, wiry muscle, and lithe lines. The scars that littered his body were like decoration, not flaws, and Steve couldn’t figure out how he got so lucky to call this man his. The fact that Eddie had his hair piled into a messy bun, revealing the long line of elegant neck that was usually covered, made Steve want to kiss up it.

“Earth to Steve,” Eddie said with a small, delighted smile.

“It’s warm,” he answered as he indulged in just looking.

“Then in we get, Big Boy,” Eddie said. “Let’s get wet.”

And that went straight to Steve’s cock. He let himself forget about everything else as he stepped under the spray at Eddie’s insistence. All that mattered was Eddie and that moment, everything else he put away for later.

“Where did you get the hair tie?” he asked, which was probably a really dumb question, but it was the easiest one in his brain.

“Pocket,” Eddie replied, sliding into the cubicle beside him. “I always carry one, because long hair is very metal, but it’s really bad for painting miniatures and shop class.”

“I like it up,” Steve said, eyes still roving over Eddie’s neck.

“Going all Dracula on me, Stevie?” Eddie asked, voice low and sexy.

“Don’t tempt me,” he replied as the memory of Eddie’s blood raced through his thoughts.

Eddie leaned in and claimed his lips in a searing kiss.

“I’d let you bite me if you wanted,” Eddie whispered as they parted.

The room brightened for a second and Steve’s gums ached.

“You’re going to kill me,” he moaned, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Only la petite mort, Lover,” Eddie told him.

“La what?” he asked.

“La petite mort, it means the little death,” Eddie told him, kissing him again as the water beat down on his back. “It’s a fancy French way of saying orgasm. I read it in a book once.”

“Sounds sexy,” Steve admitted.

The way Eddie was happy to explain made him warm inside.

“That’s the general idea,” Eddie said, smiling again. “Now, before I get completely distracted, let’s get that magnificent mane of yours wet, so I can get my hands on the first part of you.”

Steve laughed and tipped his head back. For a few moments he lost himself in the wonderful feeling of hot water on his scalp.

“You should be illegal,” he heard Eddie mutter. “Okay, about face,” Eddie said louder, “I really want to be able to get my fingers in your hair.”

“Only for you,” he agreed and did as he was asked.

It was as Eddie reached for one of the bottles on the little shelf that Steve realised he recognised it.

“Is that my shampoo?” he asked.

“Yep,” Eddie replied. “Figured you’d want to be clean so had Robin pick it up when she picked up your clothes.”

“You’re both angels,” he said.

“We know,” Eddie said with a laugh, before reaching out and touching his wet hair.

Steve was not used to someone taking care of him. He’d been doing everything for himself for a long time and he had Robin now, but they still had some boundaries. The way Eddie lathered shampoo into his hair made Steve want to melt. He had to hang on to the rail designed to help those less mobile get in and out of the shower to keep his balance.

“Okay, Stevie?” Eddie asked, standing so close Steve would have sworn he could feel Eddie’s body heat, even with the shower running.

“Nice,” he mumbled back, enjoying the sensations too much to form much of a coherent thought.

“You deserve nice and more,” Eddie said, kissing the back of his shoulder. “If I had my way, I’d take you away and pamper you until you couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Where would we go?” he asked, letting himself enjoy the fantasy.

“Somewhere quiet,” Eddie replied, massaging his scalp with those clever fingers, “and beautiful. All the mod cons though, I’m done with roughing it. Maybe a mountain cabin like you see on TV, with a deck looking out over a lake so we can sit in the sun and watch the water, maybe take a swim when we get too hot.”

“Sounds good,” Steve murmured, able to conjure the imaginary place into being in his mind from Eddie’s words. “Do you think we have to worry about sunburn anymore?”

“Of course not,” Eddie replied, “well at least not in fantasy land anyway. We could lie in the sun all day and not have to worry about anything.”

“Warm and relaxed,” Steve agreed, humming as Eddie’s fingers worked his scalp.

“Just like you right now?” Eddie asked.

“Hmmmm,” was all Steve could work up the will to reply.

Eddie’s touch was firm but gentle and he had to remind himself not to drift off. If they weren’t careful, he was going to need to use the seat that was strapped to the wall. He could think of some interesting things to use it for, but having to sit down because his legs gave out would be more embarrassing than sexy.

“Right, rinse off number one,” Eddie said, and Steve did his best to make himself move.

Once his hair was clean, Eddie added conditioner and made him melt some more, before reaching for the washcloth and a bar of soap sitting beside the bottles.

“Hang on, Lover,” Eddie told him, “let’s get you clean.”

Steve had plain run out of even remote resistance to anything Eddie was doing. He didn’t even try to stop the ridiculously turned-on noises he made as soap was added to the proceedings. With anyone else he might have been embarrassed, after all he was perfectly capable of cleaning himself, but with Eddie he let go. His boyfriend washed him with gentle efficiency, making sure every trace of his ordeal was gone from his body.

Only once Steve was completely clean, did Eddie put down the washcloth and move on to touching him in a different way. Eddie was once again behind him as the warm water cascaded off his chest, washing off the last of the soap. He leaned back, using the handle on the wall to keep himself steady, even as he closed his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to feel as Eddie chose to start with his neck.

Each little kiss sent a shiver through Steve. He couldn’t help it as each time Eddie’s lips touched his skin, tiny rivulets of lightning tickled his nerves.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” Eddie told him between kisses. “Big and strong, scarred like a legendary hero. Each mark,” Eddie kissed his shoulder blade where he knew there was a particularly noticeable silver reminder of the road-rash from the Upside Down, “a testament to your bravery. A reminder of each sacrifice.”

Eddie’s fingers danced over his side and his back, searing each scar as if it was a blessing.

“I want to kiss every...single...one,” Eddie told him, “and I will, but I don’t think we have time right now.”

Steve moaned quietly at the promise.

“Right now, I will have to settle for making you feel good,” Eddie continued. “Do you want to feel good, Stevie?”

He hummed in response, nodding as Eddie leaned in close so they were finally skin to skin. Clever guitar player’s fingers dance around his side and up over his chest.  Eddie ran his hands through the hair there, then down over Steve’s abs and into his happy trail. He could feel Eddie’s erection pressed up against the cleft of his ass and he suddenly wanted more. Only the distant knowledge of where they were and that their time was limited stopped him begging Eddie to take him there and then.

They hadn’t gone that far yet, hadn’t even discussed it in anything more than an abstract idea, but Steve was very sure he wanted Eddie in him at some point in the not-too-distant future. Or he wanted to be in Eddie, he was happy with either now that he thought about it. The idea made him tremble.

“Okay, Steve?” Eddie asked and the use of his real name snapped him back to the present.

“Yes,” he replied, recognising the genuine question for what it was. “Want you.”

“I want you too, Stevie,” his boyfriend replied, kissing along the back of his neck.

Eddie’s clever fingers also delved lower, curling around his cock.

“Fuck,” Steve moaned as Eddie gave him a firm stroke.

He wasn’t going to last long, he could already tell. It was like every touch had already telegraphed straight to his cock and they had all mounted on top of each other making him ridiculously responsive. His white-knuckle grip on the handle on the wall was the only thing grounding him.

“Like that, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, stroking him in a firm rhythm.

All he could manage was a deep moan. Eddie’s dick twitched against his ass.

“So good for me,” Eddie whispered into the back of his neck.

And that did it for Steve.

“Holy shit,” he hissed, bucking into Eddie’s hand as white-hot pleasure radiated all over his body and he shot his load against the shower wall.

“Oh, oh fuck,” Eddie moaned, burying his face in Steve’s shoulder, shuddering against him.

For a while Steve’s brain was simply white noise, so it took him some time to realise Eddie was breathing hard against his back.

“Eds?” he asked as he came down.

It was hard to miss Eddie’s hand still on his cock.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, voice still muffled against the crook of his neck.

“What for?” he asked. “That was amazing.”

“Supposed to be about you,” Eddie replied, finally releasing him. “Not about me.”

Testing out legs that felt like they were only slightly more stable than jello, Steve turned in his boyfriend’s embrace.

“You think I would mind that you were into it too?” he asked, before diving in and stealing a quick kiss. “That just makes it better. We’re connected, when it’s good for you it’s even better for me, so I’m being purely selfish here.”

That made Eddie smile.

“Says the man who stepped between a semi-automatic weapon and a teenage girl four days ago,” Eddie said and rolled his eyes.

“That was also purely selfish,” he said. “El was getting us out of there.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Big Boy,” Eddie replied, clearly completely unconvinced. “Now, let’s finish washing you off before they send a nurse in here thinking we both need rescuing.”

Steve stole another kiss before acquiescing to Eddie’s demands. They did get a little distracted on the way to finally stepping out of the shower, but they made it in the end.  Steve gave his boyfriend a look when Eddie wrapped him in a towel, then hurriedly dried himself off and disappeared back into the other room.

“I did promise,” was all Eddie said, so Steve dried himself.

On balance it was probably better than getting distracted yet again. Steve only had so much self-control and he wasn’t overly inclined to engage it at the moment. He found Eddie intoxicating at the best of times, but the pure comfort in every touch made his resistance very low.

“Okay,” Eddie said pulling out the vowels as he stepped back into the room, “I’m sorry, really I am.”

Steve had a sinking feeling. Then he saw the white t-shirt in Eddie’s hand.

“Oh, tell me she didn’t,” he said.

“She did,” Eddie said and held up the t-shirt. “You really have to give me the story behind this one.”

The shirt was a perfectly ordinary white affair from the back, but the front had a very disgruntled looking cartoon bear, with terrible bedhead on it, with the immortal words ‘Bad Bear Day’. It was ridiculously cute and so not in keeping with Steve’s image. In fact, it was nothing short of mortifying.

“Robin went on a trip with her parents and came back with that monstrosity,” Steve said, and he knew he was whining. “She made me wear it for two shifts and promised she would never make me wear it again.”

“And I think the moral of the story is ‘don’t frighten your platonic soulmate like that ever again’,” Eddie said, hiding his grin very badly. “At least she brought you a jacket as well.”

Steve sighed and accepted his fate.

End of Chapter 16

Chapter 17