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fortunapre · 2 months ago

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𝐀/𝐍𖧞 this is the last part. I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW: “dont stop! your writing is god-tier!“ i heard you all chant in unison.

Dont fret little ones. 🖐️🙂‍↕️ Ive surely got some more ideas in the bank...If you haven’t, go check out my prompts list <3

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𖧞 16+ (entire fic rating), swearing, mention of alcohol, mention of intoxication, a little bit o’ mischief…not really but you’ll see ;)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𖧞 oscar piastri x fem!reader

Go back?? (Scene vi) Click Here!

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𖧞 Scene VII 𖧞 (𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞)

be honest im 𝒻ℯℯ𝒹𝒿𝓃𝑔 yall

December 17th, the same night

We both walked into the room in silence.

The only noise was the shutting of the door and a barely audible “Santa Baby,” playing from the other room. Instead of looking at Oscar, I surveyed the room.

Unlike the front room, there were no Christmas decorations. It was a plain bedroom, a guy’s bedroom by the looks of it, with only a small desk and a bed. I tried to distract my gaze from the man in front of me, but the tension was growing too thick.

I reluctantly looked away from the uninteresting room and focused on him. He was no longer facing away from me- he was leaning back on the desk, hands gripping the desk on each side of his body. No matter how relaxed he seemed to be trying to look, I could see how rigid he really was.

He was looking at me, no smirk present. With how serious he looked, I thought to myself about how I kind of miss his ever-lasting grin.

He let out a deep sigh and moved to fold his arms, his body still leaning back against the desk.

I watched as he slightly turned one of his folded arms, looking at his wrist. I assume he was looking for his watch, but forgotten he’d given it up to the festive host earlier. He sighed again and looked away.

I only kept looking his way. I was blatantly staring, but what else was I supposed to do. I was hoping to get him to look at me.

My staring worked, as he probably felt my burning gaze. He looked up, brown eyes meeting mine.

“I’m guessing there’s still about six minutes left,” He finally broke the silence, and told me.

“Yeah…” I had no idea what to say. Did he want to get out of here? Or rather, did he want to get out of a locked room with only me? “..probably.” I added.

“This is stupid.” I heard Oscar mutter. I'm not sure if I meant to hear him, but I felt kind of sad at his words.

“7 minutes in heaven is always stupid. I’ve always tried to stay out of party games.” I told him, trying to save myself from feeling embarrassed. While we were sitting in a circle, and as I waited turn after turn, I dreaded when I’d be chosen. I dreaded being chosen, because I was secretly hoping the person to choose me was Oscar. And now that I’d gotten my wish, he didn’t even want me here.

He saw my reaction and acted quickly. “No, that’s not…” his words trailed off. I waited for him to finish his sentence, slightly confused. “Not the game,” he added. “That's not what I’m talking about.”

“What then? Being stuck with me?” I didn't mean to say what I was worrying about outloud, but I continued anyway “Trust me mate, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do.” I lied through my teeth. I definitely sounded defensive.

He scoffed and I saw him poke his tongue in his cheek. “Y’know what?” Oscar spoke and he sounded deeper and sharper. Apparently what I said riled him up. “Maybe If you’d let me speak, I’d tell you. Don’t start saying shit just to start something.”

I’d almost flinched at his tone and curse.

“Ok.” His anger only fueled mine. I unfolded my arms and put a hand on my hip, trying to look as unfazed as possible by his presence. “Enlighten me.”

“First of all, why would you think I wouldn’t want to be near you? Did me kissing you not once, but twice, not mean anything?” His voice was raising, but he didn’t look angry so to speak. I scrunched my eyebrows at his omission. “Don’t answer that. I don’t care, actually.” He suddenly added, catching me off guard.

It was my turn to scoff. God, and he accuses me of being an instigator. “Asshole! Of Course it meant something, it takes two to go as far as we did, you know.”

The argument held confession-notes in between the lines, but any affection or truth was smothered by our matching anger. Neither of us were understanding the words that came out of our mouths, and instead becoming more riled up by the yelling. Which, we were definitely yelling now.

“Don’t lie and try to make me feel better, Y/N. You were probably just filled with adrenaline.”

“Do. Not. Tell me how I feel. I know what I'm doing, I knew what I was doing just fine both times.”

“Really?” He had a monotone accusing tone, trying to find a lie. He seemed to be unimpressed with anything I said now.

“Yeah. Really.”

I hadn’t realized how fast my heart was beating now. I tried to slow my breathing and be the level-headed one because his head was definitely not thinking straight. Apparently he had nothing else to say, but neither had I. This argument was stupid and we both knew it.

We both stayed silent and slunk against something behind us, not daring to look at eachother.

Then, I heard him speak again and prepared an eye-roll.

“Now, what I was saying was…” Oscar started still not looking at me. “Was that I meant that I’m what's stupid.”

“That’s an understate-”

“Don’t.” He stopped me. “Don’t try to be snarky, Y/n. Let me speak.”

I just looked at him then raised my eyebrows and moved my head in a ‘Well, speak!’ motion.

Despite my attitude, he stayed calmer than before and took a deep breath. “Do you remember Christmas, two years ago?”

That same question.

What was so important two years ago? “You already asked me this…”

“Just. Yes or No? Do you remember?” He seemed suddenly on edge.

“I mean, I remember it, yeah, but are you talking about, like, a specific thing that happened? I don’t understand…” I spoke, trying to convey my confusion. He looked stern, and intent on hearing everything I had to say.

“Yeah,” he clarified. “I, um, I’m talking specifically about that night. Christmas night.”

My mind whirled as I tried desperately to pick out an obvious memory, but nothing was coming to mind.

That Christmas was the year my brother and sister didn’t come.

That Christmas was the year I was gifted the worst sweater by my mom.

That Christmas I stayed up practically all night.

I remember staying up all night, because the next morning, my mom forced me to go into town with her. I remember vividly how sluggish I’d been the whole time. But… that’s all….

Suddenly, I remembered something.

The thought of staying up triggered another thought: that night, I remember sitting on the sofa, watching a movie, when someone scared the shit out of me.

I had been peacefully wrapped in my blanket at around 4 am, when someone barreled through the door.

Oscar.

It was Oscar that scared me. I hadn’t been expecting anyone, especially Oscar since I didn’t even know he’d been out.

Two years ago, we didn’t ever talk to each other except to tease, so it’s no surprise he didn’t bother to tell me he was going somewhere.

When he came in, I was confused. My confusion grew as I’d taken in his appearance. His eyes were barely open, and his focus was darting all around the room. When his eyes met mine, his eyes opened and his body suddenly stopped. Full stop. He planted his feet and stared at me. His jaw was slack and his cheeks, from what I could tell in the little light from the kitchen behind me, was pinker than normal.

He was drunk. Oscar had come home drunk that night and had seen me when he walked through the door.

At the time, I remember laughing at him and turning back to my movie to ignore him.

But that’s not where the altercation ended– drunk Oscar had said something.

I remembered Oscar stopping, looking at me, and then he showed the broadest smile (one I'm sure would never have been directed towards me, had he been sober). Then, he sauntered closer to the sofa, out of the doorway and in front of my view of the television.

“Oscar…” I groaned. “Just go to bed, mate, your wasted.”

He stayed in place, restricting my vision and looking at me. Actually, he was staring at me. Actually he was staring all over me.

That night, I was wearing my short PJ shorts, and a Star Wars t-shirt. Nothing special, but it definitely caught drunk-oscar’s attention.

“Hello?” I tried again, but he was unrelenting.

“What?” was all he answered with.

“Get out of my way, that’s what.” I snapped, just trying to watch Princess Diaries.

He looked behind him to the screen and a grimace filled his whole face. Usually Oscar’s expressions consisted of mad and smirky-jerk, but when he was drunk, tons of emotions flashed on and off his face.

“That’s shit.” He must have been referring to the movie. His voice was groggy and deep, probably tired after what seemed like an exciting night.

“Whatever.” I gave up with the television and just wanted him to leave. “Just go to your room before someone else catches a visual of your post-party debauchery.”

“Dirty girllll,” he said slowly, borderline slurring. “Stop thinking about my de-whatever.” I quirked an eyebrow and shook my head at him. He seemed so incredibly out of it. I should totally hold this over him. Where’s my phone? I should totally film this.

I gave up looking for my phone, and looked back at oscar. Still standing there.

“Wait, what? I wasn’t at a party…” Oscar spoke, referring to my earlier statement of his “post-party” inebriation- an incredibly late reaction.

“Okayyyy…?” I said slowly. “Then what’s,” I motioned to all of him, “this?”

“Nothing.” He said rather quickly. Then his tempo changed as he looked down, almost shy. “None of your business, alright?” I nodded, but he kept speaking. “Actually, this has nothing to do with,” He copied my motion with a serious amount of sass and gestured to all of me, “…you. Ok?”

“Yeah, alright.” I was over this. He’s obviously completely drunk.

“I'm serious! Don’t accuse me of getting drunk because of my feelings, ok? Don’t even think about it. Why would I care about you… let along get drunk over fucking childhood crush on you? That’s ridiculous, and entirely possible— That’s not the point!”

Wait.

Back to the present- I now know why Oscar’s worried about that night.

Oscar must not have been that plastered if he now remembers what he said. Or rather, what he confessed. At the time I ignored his rambling and walked him to his room, away from me.

Now, I’m not sure all of that was just drunk-rambling.

Oscar was watching me figure everything out, watching me realize what he was so afraid of.

“I remember you rambling about having a… but there’s no way.” I said out loud to him, voicing my spinning thoughts. He just kept looking at me. “Right?” My voice got softer as I took in what Oscar’s silence might mean. “But you hated me.”

“Y/N.” He spoke like I was stupid.

“What?” I fired back, getting defensive.

“I never hated you, think about it.” He was trying to make me realize it, but all of my memories of him are arguments– save the past week.

“I am thinking about it. You always picked on me and fought with me. You said the meanest things and I always fought back. We’ve never gotten along…” I tried to list.

Then, all of a sudden, a smirk formed on his face.

That same smirk I’d claimed I’ve been missing, now felt weirdly… intimate?

“Oscar, you…” I didn’t know what to say.

“Yeahh” Is all he replied with, smirking and telling me all I need to know with one look. He started to move closer to me.

Step by step, he slowly walked towards me like he was testing my reaction. I just let him come closer and closer until we were face to face. Pine and wintergreen filled my senses. Our eye contact never waivered.

“Y/n, I don’t mean to bring this all up now.” he gestured to the door. His smirk lessened in intensity as he tried to apologize.

I suddenly remembered we’re in the middle of a 7 minutes in heaven game. And that it’s definitely been longer than 7 minutes.

(My sister was the culprit of our unexpected extra time, having told them to leave us alone.)

I focused back on the man in front of me. The man who had practically just confessed to me that he had a childhood crush on me. A childhood crush that he claims has never left.

“This is stupid.” I copied his words form before.

“Oh?” Oscar almost recoiled, hurt flashing on his face.

“No! Not… Not you! Not this.” I reacted and grabbed at the front of his shirt, not wanting him to misunderstand me and turn away.

Both of our breathing hitched at the contact, and the proximity it brought.

“Ok, then what do you mean?” He said, softly. His eyes were trained on my lips. I opened my mouth and closed it again, not knowing how to say this.

“I mean I’m stupid. Im stupid for not realizing it sooner. Im stupid for being so harsh and rude and-” I started apoligizing as my emotions began rising.

“I was rude too.”

“Yeah, but you…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. His confession was still new. However, the more I thought about him— Oscar Piastri, my rival and hater in every way—my mind started to clarify.

“Yeah, I…” He couldn’t say it either it seems.

We both stood close, not fully saying what we meant out loud yet still fully understanding what each other meant and wanted.

Seconds passed by of us relishing the new emotions, my grip never leaving him. We practically shared air at how close we were and our eyes locked. I started to feel what could only be described as butterflies.

It washed over me and the idea hit me like a train: I wanted him too. Maybe more than he wants me.

At this revelation I tugged him to my level and brought my lips to his ear.

I didn’t want to waste anymore time arguing or lying to ourselves.

I took a short breath and then whispered, “let’s get out of here.”

Then in almost one motion he smiled, a devilishly handsome smirk, then he grabbed my hand and took us away from the party.

Away from prying eyes.

hehehehhehehe 🫵💋

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sweetsweetjellybean · 1 year ago

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If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 4 | The Reason

Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?

Adapted from As The World Burns by @myeuphoricmindset

TW: FemReader, Angst, Smut WC:11038 Masterlist Here

The nights are louder than he remembers. Full of the songs of the cicadas and peepers. The occasional croak of a bullfrog or the hoot of an owl. The distance sounds of traffic from streets away. Somehow it all seems much louder than the Upside-Down. Between the booms of thunder and howls of creatures, there were hours of absolute silence. It’s been six weeks, and Steve hasn’t forgotten how the silence made him feel. Anxious and defensive, like an itch he could never scratch.

Returning to his dark empty house, the quiet is more than he can stand. It’s become routine for him to sit outside on one of the loungers, watching the last rays of gold sink beneath the treeline, waiting for the sky to cycle through the palette of sunset until darkness finally gives way to the burst of stars. The nighttime sounds calm his worries. This is home. Sitting there, he tries to remember every detail so that it can never be taken from him again. Focusing on the pattern of shadows woven across the moon, he can’t help thinking about you. Are you looking up at the same sky?

“I thought I’d find you out here,” Nancy’s voice pulls him from his thoughts as she steps out of the house from the sliding glass door. “You didn’t answer when I knocked. I hope you don’t mind. I let myself in.”

“Of course not,” Steve says, twisting to look at her over his shoulder, “Come have a seat,” he gestures to the chaise beside him.

She moves into the space between the two loungers sitting down sideways so she can face him, folding her dainty hands in her lap. “I heard you were at Dustin’s all day today.”

“I put some shingles on that spot on the roof where the tree fell. They don’t need it leaking when it rains.” Construction is underway all over town. Minor projects are getting pushed down the waitlist as tradesmen try to complete the most lucrative jobs first, so Steve has been doing what he can to help his friends and neighbors.

“Well, that was nice of you,” she comments with a smile.

“Well, if you haven’t heard, I’m a nice guy,” he says with smug charm, his lips quirking on one side, aiming to pull an incredulous laugh from her.

“I think I may have heard that somewhere before,” she giggles, rolling her eyes before continuing, “You must be hungry. Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Nah, Mrs. Henderson made pot roast. She wouldn’t let me leave until I ate two helpings.” He rubs his flat stomach, smiling. Dustin’s mom always makes him feel like family.

“How about a movie then?” she asks, hope filling her voice.

“I’m exhausted, Nance.” He reaches out, patting her hand, “It’s a nice night. Stay here with me for a while.”

“You’ve been sitting out here a lot lately.” She looks down to where his hand covers hers.

“I never realized what I had until I almost lost it,” he says, pulling away from her and looking back towards the horizon. “I like it out here. It helps me think.”

“Think about what?”

“Everything…nothing. I don’t know.” The longer he looks, the more stars come into view. Simple truths are relieved by just taking the time to look.

“You’ve been so distant.”

Her words have him turning towards her again. She’s still looking down, wrapping her arms around herself, her small hands disappearing into the sleeves of her sweater.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be,” he frowns, watching how she’s trying to protect herself, “Are you cold?” He sits up, unzipping his jacket and pulling it off his shoulders. “Here. Sit back.” He stands and waits for her to swing her legs onto the lounger before tucking his coat over her like a blanket.

“Thanks,” she pauses, settling into the leftover warmth, “I thought this would be our time, and I’ve hardly seen you. We haven’t… we’re barely ever alone together.”

He runs a hand through his hair before sitting sideways on the lounger, taking up her position from earlier. “I guess we haven’t,” he says, knowing he’s been neglecting her, but there’s not much left of himself to give, “Work is keeping me busy, and the kids–”

“Steve,” she cuts him off, frustrated by his excuses, “Volunteering at the shelter and doing odd jobs for free doesn’t count as work. And the kids don’t need you to babysit them anymore. Robin’s been back at Family Video for a few weeks now. She told me that Keith has called you.”

“I don’t want to go back to Family Video,” he says, looking away. He’s been over all this before with Robin. “I’m not ready.”

“I know it’s been hard. We’ve all been through so much, but Max is healing. The kids are fine. Everyone is moving on. It’s time for you to start your life.”

His mouth opens with surprise. “Nance, the kids aren’t fine. Have you seen them? Max is struggling.”

“She’s getting better.”

“Nancy, she’s blind. And it’s not just her. Haven’t you seen the way Lucas panics every time he has to leave her side, even for a few minutes?”

“Steve,” she sits up, his jacket slipping down around her waist as she swings her legs to the side, reaching across the space between them to take his hand, “Nothing you can do is gonna fix that.”

“I know that,” he mumbles, but even acknowledging it stirs his guilt.

“I think you should come with me to Boston.” her fingers tighten around his as if she can already sense his reluctance.

“Boston? For school?”

“I think you’ll really like it there. It’s smaller than Indianapolis, and there are all these great old buildings. I called Emerson, and I’ve got it all figured out. It’s not too late to get the money back from my room and board. We can get an apartment, and I can get a job on the weekends.”

“I don’t know. You’re supposed to be studying, not working,” he shakes his head, looking away, “I don’t even know what I’d do in Boston.”

“It’s a city. I’m sure you can find some job that you’d like. Anything is better than Scoops, right? Maybe you can even go to school?”

“Sure, Nance, I didn’t get in at Hawkin’s Community, but I’ll pull out that acceptance letter I got from Harvard.” his eyes roll.

“Then just be with me, Steve. Let’s try and make it work this time,” she moves her head, seeking his eyes, trying to break through the wall between them ever since he’s been back.

He swallows hard and meets her eyes. “I want to, but I can’t leave them.”

She blows out a deep breath and lets go of his hand.

“What if something happens? What if it starts again?”

“It’s not going to, Steve. It’s over,” she emphasizes, like it's something she’s explained before. “Why can’t anyone accept that?” Her question makes him realize maybe she has just not to him. He may not be the only one thinking of someone else. Steve has only seen Will a few times since he’s been home. The boy’s clothes were even looser on his slight frame, and purple skin circled his sunken eyes, and Jonathan wasn’t leaving for school in the fall.

“That’s what we thought the last time, Nance. That’s what we’ve thought every time,” he says, his voice quiet but resolved, “I need to stay until they graduate–”

“That’s three more years,” she complains.

“They need me.”

“I need you.”

“No, you don’t.” he gives her a soft smile, reaching for her again, “You never have, not even once.”

She swipes at the tears forming in her eyes before they can fall. There isn’t anything else she can say.

“Come’er,” he tugs her off her seat, pulling her into his side as he settles back onto his lounger. Her arm wraps around him as she rests her head on his chest, the worry coming off her in waves. “It’s going to be alright, he smooths his hand over her hair, “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, snuggling closer, “Just don’t take too long.”

He holds her tightly as he looks back toward the darkened sky, the endless stars glinting as brightly as the moon. He tries to imagine his life with her in Boston, sitting on the rooftop of their tiny apartment. Would the stars shine as vividly with all the city lights? Would he still be thinking of you?

“Double check for any loose nails,” Steve instructs Dustin as he climbs down the ladder, his white t-shirt covered in sweat and dirt.

“Sure thing, Dad,” Dustin says smartly as he picks up the discarded singles that Steve had tossed down from the roof and throws them into the trash barrel.

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the lawn mower,” he points his finger at the boy before picking up a bottle of water and taking a long pull. Despite the cool nights, the heat during the day still felt oppressive, and he could feel the tenderness of a burn beginning on the back of his neck.

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the mower,” the boy mimics in a mocking voice before adding, “What an asshole.”

“Hey!” Steve fumes, settling his hands on his hips just as Mrs. Henderson comes toddling out of the house holding two glasses of lemonade.

“Oh boys, you finished! It looks so nice,” she says, handing the boys the lemonade and stepping back to admire the view, “You two did a great job.”

“You can’t even see it from down here, Mom,” Dustin scoffs. Earning a warning glance from Steve.

“Well, I can just tell,” Claudia Henderson informs her son, “It’s going to be such a relief not to worry every time it rains,” she says, turning her attention to the other boy, “I can’t thank you enough, Steven. I know you said I couldn’t pay you but here,” she pulls some folded bills from her pocket trying to hand them to Steve.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve waves his palms in front of his chest, “The pot roast was thanks enough. It’s been a while since I had a meal like that.”

“Well, you’re welcome anytime. Isn’t that right, Dusty?” She looks for confirmation from her son. When Dustins folds his arms across his chest with a mumble of ‘son of a bitch’, her face goes red with embarrassment. She recovers quickly, smiling at Steve, “Would you like to stay tonight? I’ve got a casserole already to go in the oven.”

“Well–”

“Not tonight, Mom,” Dustin cuts in before Steve can finish, “I’m going to Gareth’s for Hellfire.”

“Dusty, We’ve talked about this. I don’t think that’s safe after everything that’s happened,” Claudia says, her fingers clutching the front of her shirt.

“Jesus Christ, Mom. Eddie’s dead. What more do you want?”

“Watch it, Henderson,” Steve says, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you fuck off, Steven,” Dustin says, shrugging him off.

“Dusty!“

“Excuse us,” Steve says to Mrs. Henderson as he grabs Dustin by the collar and yanks him around the corner of the house.

“Since when do you talk to your mother like that?” Steve asks the boy as he releases him against the side of the house. “I know you’ve been feeling bad since Eddie, but you need to get this attitude in check. She doesn’t deserve that, and neither does anyone else.”

“Don’t you dare say his name,” Dustin says, his voice rising in anger as he puts both hands on Steve’s chest and shoves him away. “You didn’t know him or care about him. Just do me a favor and add his name to the list of people you don’t give a shit about and forget you ever met him.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, confused. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”

“Ding ding ding. Good detective work, Sherlock Holmes,” Dustin says, trying to walk away until Steve stops him, grabbing the front of his shirt.

“So help me, I may not win many fights, but I know I can kick your ass, you little shit,” he pushes Dustin back against the house. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Like you care,” the boy spits, his face red with anger.

“Of course I care!” Steve yells, waving his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but for how long?” Dustin challenges.

“What?”

“Just until you get to play the hero again. Right, Steve?” he asks sarcastically.

“Are you kidding me, dude?” Steve asks, catching on. How can he actually think that? “That’s what this is all about because I pushed you through the gate? I did that for you. So you wouldn’t get stuck there. Someone had to stay-“

“Don’t give me that. You did it to be the hero. I begged Eddie not to go back,” Dustin yells, his voice cracking, nose beginning to run, “He just wouldn’t listen, and neither would you. I don’t need another dead friend, Steve. I need you here.”

“I am here!”

“I heard you,” he says, swiping at his eyes, “When El found you, screaming for her not to take you. You don’t know what it took to get you out. To get that gate back open. What we risked. Tell me again how much you care about us.”

“You got this all wrong. I care about you. All of you,” Steve shakes his head and pulls the boy into a reluctant hug, “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere, you understand?”

Dustin nods into Steve’s chest, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and Steve recognizes the gesture as his own. He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out thick with emotion. “All I thought about was getting home, man. I just couldn’t leave her behind.”

Dustin sniffs, one arm reluctantly landing on Steve’s back. “There’s one thing I don’t get, Steve. If she was so important, then where is she?”

The polished silverware slides against each other, hitting the back of the drawer with a loud clank when Steve yanks it open with more force than necessary. He pulls out a fork and retrieves the open can of SpaghettiOs before heading outside through the slider of the sunroom. The conversation with Dustin plays on a loop in his mind. It’s clear the scars that they all bear are more than skin deep. How do you rejoin a life that doesn’t belong to you anymore?

He sits on the lounger stirring the tomatoey contents of the can. It’s later than usual. The sun has long since dipped below the horizon. A light mist hangs over the pool's surface, its blue-green light brightening the dark corners of the yard. With the thick clouds obscuring the waning moon and stars, the woods surrounding the yards stay shrouded in shadows. Decisions hang over his head like a knife about to drop, hurting the people he cares about. It’s not the past that’s hard to let go. It’s the future that was never supposed to be.

“I don’t know how you can stand that stuff cold,” Hopper’s voice comes from beside Steve just as the first bite passes his lips.

“I guess it’s just a habit now,” Steve replies as Hopper eases himself down on the chair beside him, a six-pack in his hand. He pulls one from the plastic ring, handing it to Steve before taking one for himself.

“Hmm,” Hopper cracks the tab of the Schlitz and takes a loud slurp, “Habits can be hard to break.”

Hopper had been dropping by Steve’s a couple of times a week since he had been home. Steve isn’t sure if this is Hopper’s way of checking up on him or if he just wants an hour of quiet before returning to the full house he shares with Joyce. Hopper has as much on his mind as Steve. Some nights they don’t exchange more than a few words. Whatever his reasoning for stopping by, Steve welcomes the company.

“So,” Steve says after washing down a couple more mouthfuls of Spaghettios with the cold beer, “If I needed to find the address for someone outside of town, is that something you could help me with?”

Hopper’s answer comes in the form of a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pulls a slip of paper from his breast pocket, holding it out to Steve in between two fingers.

There’s a skeptical look on Steve’s face as he takes the paper from the older man. Hopper picks up his beer, going in for another sip as Steve unfolds the note, his eyes widening.

“You’re a damn good cop. You know that, right?” Steve asks, stuffing the paper into the pocket of his jeans.

“You’re not the first one to tell me, kid,” Hopper says, settling back into his lounge and looking to the sky where the clouds have shifted and thinned. Beams of light push through the thin wisps, brightening the darkness. “Whatta ya know?” Hopper says, pulling a cigar from the same pocket, “Looks like it might be a clear night after all.”

A light breeze blows the gauzy material of your sundress around your bare legs as you walk down the street toward your apartment. As you hitch your tote higher, the sun warms your shoulders, and a smile plays at your lips. The pieces of your life always find their way together like a jigsaw puzzle without the bigger picture. Forcing them into what you want never works, but eventually, they fit, a new section more beautiful than you imagined is laid out before you.

Your eyes lift from the sidewalk as a car speeds past, Higher Love blasting out of its open windows. The notes blend with the rush of wind through the trees that line your street. One yellow leaf flutters to the ground, an unmistakable sign that the end of summer is near. You watch the car cruise down the road until it passes the stone steps of your apartment. Your stomach and heart turn somersaults when you see him sitting there watching you from behind a pair of dark avatars, a million-dollar smile gracing his handsome face. Your pulse quickens as you approach, wondering if he will always have this effect on you.

“Hi,” he says, pulling off his glasses and tucking them into the collar of his white tee just as the car turns the corner and the music fades away.

“Hi yourself,” you say, stopping in front of him. “This is a surprise.”

“I thought it was fair,” he shrugs, squinting up at you with one eye slightly closed. “We have unfinished business.” He moves his coat and an empty soda can to his other side, inviting you to join him on the steps.

Climbing a few, you sit next to him, letting the bag fall from your shoulder to rest beside you. “What’s this business?” you ask, your arms circling your knees.

He smirks in response, turning to pull something from his jacket. Returning with a cellophane packet of Twinkies in his hand. “The other pack got a little squished,” he explains as his long fingers tear open the packaging, “These are fresher. I checked the date.” He hands you one of the yellow cakes before taking the other for himself.

“Thanks,” you laugh, taking the slightly sticky treat from his hand. He brings his to his mouth but pauses, wanting to watch you take your first bite, and you oblige him. One hand hovering under your mouth to catch the crumbs as your teeth breach the soft cake. The sweetness is overwhelming you as much as his gesture. “Mmmm, that’s good,” you say with your mouth still full.

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling, taking pleasure in your reaction, at how it feels just being near you again like no time has passed.

“Mmmhmm.” Your tongue darts out, licking the filling from your lips, missing a tiny glob in the corner. Before you can make a second pass, he swipes it away with the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his mouth to taste. Behind you, the apartment door opens, and your neighbor from upstairs is maneuvering around you with a heavy box in his arms. Steve’s arm is around your waist, pulling you closer to his side, giving your neighbor more room to get by. It happens quick enough for you to feel dizzy. Five minutes ago, you didn’t think you’d see him again, and now he’s surrounding you, heat lingering like a ghost every place he touches you. The thin material of your skirt barely separates your skin from his Levi-covered legs, his mouth just inches from yours as he bites into his Twinkie.

Your hand shakes as you turn away from him to pull a bottle of water from your bag. Twisting the lid, you take a few gulps to give yourself a moment to regroup.

“Are you alright?” He eyes you with a curious expression. He knows you too well. “Is it okay that I’m here?” He asks, his voice dropping, turning serious.

“I’m always glad to see you, Steve,” you answer honestly. It’s the goodbyes that you can’t bear.

He takes a moment, looking down at the cracked sidewalk. “You look really pretty,” the corners of his mouth lift but not with charm or arrogance, with something much softer. “I mean, you’re always pretty, but when I saw you coming down the street, you looked happy. I didn’t get to see that when we were…there.”

“Thank you. So do you, but I kind of miss the axe.”

A laugh bursts from deep in his chest, “Yeah? Did that do it for you?”

“Definitely,” you giggle, nudging him with your shoulder, “Want some?” You tip your bottle towards him.

“Sure,” he takes it from you.

“It’s my new habit,” you nod toward the bottle, “I get a bit panicked if I don’t have water with me. Kinda crazy, right?”

“Nah,” he takes a sip before replacing the cap and handing it back to you, “That’s not so bad as far as habits go. It’s kind of a smart one, actually. I keep eating Chef Boyardee cold.”

“Eww.” Your nose scrunches.

“Right out of the can,” he chuckles, his fingers circling your wrist, gently pulling your arm into his lap, turning it to reveal the healing scar running down the inside of your arm. “I can’t stand the quiet at night,” he says without looking up from your arm. “I sit outside on my back deck for the noise. It’s where I think about you.” His long fingers trace the raised skin with the softest pressure. “I fall asleep out there most nights.”

“I sleep with the lights on,” you admit in a quieter voice, loving and hating how he touches you like you belong to him-like you’ll always belong to him. “And I stuff a couple of pillows behind me, so it feels like yo–like I’m not alone.”

His eyes lock with yours, and his fingers still. An ache that dulled over the past few weeks but never disappeared completely, crashes over you like a wave. You belong to him, but he’ll never be yours. Not here. Only in another world. Pulling your arm back, you wrap it back around your knees.

He frowns, sensing the shift between you, and changes the subject. “Were you coming from school?” he nods in the direction you came from.

“Oh. Um, yeah,” you say, following his eyes. The center of campus is a few blocks away from your apartment.

“Have classes started?” he asks, thinking about the answer he owes Nancy.

“No. Not for a few more weeks. I-uhh…I was changing my schedule. I’m not going to do fieldwork anymore. I’m going to teach instead. Maybe high school,” you explain.

“But you loved it,” his eyebrows pull together in a straight line.

The same expression your advisor gave you when you told him. “I know, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, an expression of guilt washing over his face.

“Hey, don’t feel bad for me. Teaching’s a good gig. Great hours. Summers off. There are worse jobs.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he says, recovering. “You can force all those kids to listen to your bad jokes.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, squeezing your knees tighter, “What about you? Have you figured out what you want to do yet?”

“No, not yet,” his head turns away, looking down the other side street, “Nancy wants me to come with her to Boston.”

Your heart cracks open even though you knew this was coming. “So you’re together again?”

He turns, shaking his head, “No. Not really. She wants to be.”

“And what do you want?” you ask, but your heart already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” both hands card through his thick hair, pulling on the ends, “I don’t know. It’s not that easy. The kids….Nothing makes sense to me anymore. Nothing’s made sense since the last time I was with you. That’s why I had to see you.”

“I think you know exactly what you want.” You place your hand on his knee, a gesture meant to comfort, but he takes full advantage, covering your hand with his, lacing his fingers through yours. You should pull away, but your heart pleads to take what you can. Goodbye is just on the horizon.

“You’ve loved her for so long.”

“It doesn’t feel right anymore,” he argues, leaning closer, his forehead brushing yours.

“I think,” you pause, wetting your lips, and his eyes track the movement. “I think you’ve been making decisions thinking of everyone else for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to choose something that will make you happy.”

“What if the right thing,” his voice has dropped to just louder than a whisper as his nose runs along your cheek, “and what I want is the same thing?”

“Steve,” your breaths are coming in shudders from deep in your chest. Tears sting behind your eyes as a cruel voice repeats from the back of your mind. He’ll never choose you.

“Can we go inside?” his lips touch yours with the barest of brushes.

His question is a jolt of ice water up your spine. You’ve indulged yourself too long. If you let him in now, tomorrow when he’s gone, you won’t recover. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, pulling back. You let your resolve steel your spine as you stand. Climbing a few steps, putting distance between you.

He stands, trying to follow. Sadness and confusion marring his pretty face. “Honey– "

You stop him with a hand held out in front of you. “All of this. Everything we’ve been through. It happened so you can get what you’ve always wanted. So she can see you. Don’t throw it away, Steve. You’re going to thank me someday.”

His mouth opens, but he can’t find the words. Stepping forward, you throw your arms around him in a hug too quick for him to return before you step back. “I’m so happy to have seen you again.” you smile, working hard to keep your tone enthusiastic, promising yourself you will not fall apart despite the pain. Not this time. “Send me a postcard from Boston, okay?” you ask, but you’re already turning away, pulling your keys from your tote, and moving to the door.

“I miss you,” he says. The pain in his voice makes you pause and close your eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever missed anyone before, not the way I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you turn back to him. You know he’s trying, but it’s not enough, not after having him. He’s still not choosing you, and you deserve someone who will, even though it’s so tempting to give in to him.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you next time,” you keep it light, “I’ll show up in Boston when I need someone to share a Twinkie. Take care of yourself, Steve,” you push your key into the lock.

“Wait. Wait, he says, waving his hands before they settle on his hips, “If you’re so sure I’m supposed to be with her, then what’s your reason? Why were you there? Why did we even meet?”

Your eyes shift to your shoes, trying to find an answer that isn’t a lie, reasoning that it’s okay to lie if it’s for his own good. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

The lock clicks before he can say anything else, and you quickly seal yourself on the other side. You wait until you see him walking down the steps to let yourself into your apartment. Immediately dropping your bag and leaning your back against the door. Your hand moves to your stomach as you silently apologize for your lie. Pushing away, you walk through your tiny kitchen to the refrigerator. Rubbing your eyes, you refuse to let a tear fall. You won’t regret doing the right thing. Your hand wraps around the handle before you yank it open and pull out a juice container. “It was the right thing,” you whisper, letting the door swing closed, revealing the black and white strip of photos of a small blurry shape taped to the other side. “For all of us.”

The buzzing from the cars zooming past in a haphazard flow does nothing to calm Steve’s nerves as he makes the long drive back to Hawkins.

“Fuck,” he slams his hand against the wheel as the memory of you closing that door, shutting him out of your life, replays in his mind. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. He shouldn’t have pushed. After being apart for so long, he should have known better. But seeing you come down the street, having you so close–it was like no time had passed. It felt natural to touch you. He had just wanted to talk. Just wanted to see that you were alright, but the feel of your soft skin under his fingertips had only made him want more. And then, just like before, it was over before it really began.

Steve snaps off the radio, cutting off Lindesy’s pleas. One thing had come out of it, though. He had gone to you looking for clarity, and you had given it to him. You were right. He does know what he wants. He keeps the radio off, rolling down the window, listening to the sounds of life around him. Watching the highways turn into towns and more familiar roads until he was crossing the Hawkins town line. Passing the turn for Cornwallis, he heads north toward Maple. The house is dark when he pulls into the driveway, his lights bouncing off the second-story window he had climbed through more than a few times before. But not tonight. He turns the key, pulling it from the ignition, the leather creaking as he leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. The light’s still low, just breaking, when the knock on his window wakes him. The blue of Nancy’s eyes is brighter than the sky as she stands barefoot, freezing her nightgown. She takes his hand as they walk inside.

“I’m working on it, Flo,” Hopper yells in response to the knock at his closed office door. He scrambles for the empty file folder stuck between his booted feet and the desk that they are resting on. He wraps the folder around the copy of Car and Driver that he’s been reading and quickly shoves the half-eaten donut into his top drawer. Replacing it with a red apple that he takes a big bite of just as his door swings open.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says as Steve wanders into his office, shutting the door behind him and sitting heavily in the chair in front of Hopper’s desk.

“What do you want?” Hopper asks as he settles back further in his chair, his eyes moving back to the file folder he’s holding up in front of him.

“How about a job?” Steve asks, his eyes roving around the small office.

“Ha, good one,” Hopper chuckles, pulling out a camel from his breast pocket.

“I’m serious, Hop.”

Hopper narrows his eyes as he lights his cigarette. “What’s gotten into you, kid? Having regrets about not leaving with Nancy a few weeks ago?”

“No. Nothing like that. It was never gonna work out,” Steve says, shaking his head. He said goodbye to Nancy the morning she found him outside her house. He loved her, but they weren’t right for each other. It would have left them both broken if they’d forced their lives to fit together. So, he let her go like you had let him go with affection and without regrets. Another chapter closed.

“I’m ready to figure out what to do with my life.”

Hopper stays quiet, taking another drag from his smoke.

“I figure I’m pretty good at helping people, so that’s what I want to do,” Steve shrugs.

“This isn’t just helping old ladies across the street, Harrington,” Hopper says, sitting up in his chair and blowing out a steady stream of smoke, “It’s hard work.”

“Yeah, I can eat donuts and read Car and Driver, too, Chief,” Steve says, waving a hand toward Hopper.

“Watch it, kid,” Hopper says, slamming the magazine on his desk and stubbing out his cigarette, “What happened with the girl?”

“The girl?” Steve questions

“You went to see her, right?” Hopper asks, leaning forward on his elbows. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Steve says, looking away.

Hopper’s jaw tightens as his eyes turn to slits under thick eyebrows.

“What do you want me to say?” Steve asks, crossing one leg over the other. “She wasn’t interested.”

“Let me get this straight. You went there?”

“Yup.”

“Knocked on her door?”

“Waited for her to get home half the day.”

“Then you told her you weren’t going with Nancy?”

“Well–“

“And that you’re in love with her.”

“Not exactly.”

“You are in love with her?”

“I–”

“What’s wrong with you, Harrington?” Hopper asks, gripping the edge of his desk, “Are you stupid or something?”

“Jesus, Hop,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Have you seen them out there?” Hopper’s uniform-covered elbow slams down on the desk as he points to the closed door, “I’m full up on stupid. Now,” he says, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest, “I might have something for someone who’s got their shit together, but right now that aint you, Harrington. So, come back and talk to me when you do.”

“Hop, I–“

“I don’t want to hear it, Harrington. You might be able to do some real good someday, but right now, I’m busy. Important police business to take care of,” Hopper says, propping his feet back up on the desk and burying his face in the magazine.

Steve isn’t sure if it’s sentimentality or sheer curiosity that drew him here, but he did know as soon as he saw the stack of folded afghans being placed in a box at the shelter that this is where he’d end up. On first approach, the cottage doesn’t appear much different than the one in the Upside-down. The tiny home still remained obscured by tall sugar maples and eastern white pines. White curls of paint still clinging to the old timber walls next to sturdy black shutters. But the well-tended beds of colorful flowers that line the walkways and front of the cottage give it a more inviting feel.

His shoes scrape up the stone steps, where he stops to take a fortifying breath preparing to see the woman that used to haunt his bad dreams. His knuckles wrap against the door while flashes of himself cutting away vines play in his mind.

“Mrs. Willard,” he calls after hearing a series of loud coughs on the other side of the door.

“Just a minute. Just a minute,” Her voice gets closer as he hears the locks being worked before the door swings open, “Jesum crow, give an old lady a minute to get to the door.”

Anne Willard’s full height barely put her at the center of Steve’s chest. Her poof of white curls gave her an extra few inches, as well as the sensible black shoes that adorned her feet. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any,” she huffs, ready to slam the door.

“I’m not selling anything, ma’am,” Steve says, giving her one of his best smiles, “I’m Steve Harrington, a volunteer from the shelter over at the middle school. I don’t think anyone thanked you for donating all those blankets, so I wanted to stop by and ask if there was anything I could help you with around your property.”

“Help me?” She takes a step forward, her balled hands landing on her hips, head tipped up to look Steve in the eye, “Do you think I’m senile? Can’t take care of myself?”

“No, ma’am. I know you’re alone out here, and I thought I could be useful.”

“Humph. Well, I guess we’ll have just to wait and see about that,” she says, her clear blue eyes as sharp as a woman half her age, “You better come inside then.”

She turns on her heel, leaving the door open, and Steve with no choice but to follow her. His eyes roam the familiar space. She must not have changed a thing in her home since time stopped in the Upside-down. He feels like he’s lived a lifetime here instead of only a few days.

“Tea,” Mrs. Willard says, raising her finger as she starts down the hall leading to the kitchen. Steve follows her, ghosts echoing in his heart as he passes the closed door of the bedroom where he made love to you.

The kitchen is the same, with brighter sunlight pouring through the windows and backdoor. Fresh flowers stuffed in pitchers dot surfaces between the knit-covered crockery. The older woman stops in front of the butcher block countertop, pushing up on her toes to reach for two mugs from the open shelving.

“Let me do that, Mrs. Willard,” Steve says, reaching beside her and retrieving the mugs.

“Enough with the Missus stuff. Anyone who makes tea in my kitchen calls me Anne,” she says, shuffling to the table and sitting, “The kettle is right there on the–”

But Steve already has the kettle filling. The knited cozy folded neatly near the stove.

“Well, you certainly know your way around a kitchen,” she says, looking at him with a curious eye as he starts the kettle boiling and drops the teabags into the cups.

“I remember you,” she says when he turns and leans against the counter, “I know your mother. You used to run around town with your little gang like you were the Prince of Hawkins. So tell me, have you done any growing up since then?”

“I’d like to think so,” he says as the kettle starts to sing. He pulls it from the stove, pouring water into each mug, and brings both cups to the table.

“Now,” she says, folding her hands in her lap while waiting for the tea to steep, “Is there anything I need doin’? Let’s see, I had the gutters cleaned a few months back. I mow my own lawn and tend to the garden. Besides that, there’s not much else to do. My Jacob built this whole place himself, and it’s just as sturdy as the day we moved in.”

“You have a beautiful home, Anne,” he comments, trying out her first name. “You don’t see places built this solid.” The cottage was the only house they came across in the Upside-Down that was mainly untouched by the decay.

“He built it as a wedding gift. He knew I loved the lake. I just wish we had more years here together. So much wasted time.”

“How long were you married?”

“Forty-three wonderful years. Not enough,” she smiles sadly, sorting through her memories. “We got married at nineteen, but that was considered late at the time. We met when I was sixteen, and everyone knew Jacob was sweet on me right from the start. Walking me home, and bringing me flowers, but every time he asked to take me out, I turned him down flat. I thought he was too good for me. You see, Jacob was from a very well-to-do family. Things like that mattered so much more back then. I told him he shoulda been courting Ellen-Mae Sattler. Her family owned the quarry and half the town. It was no secret she had her sights set on him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Every time I sent him away, he’d just come right back.”

“How did he finally convince you,” Steve asks, completely wrapped up in her story.

“Well, one day he just showed up with a ring and said, ‘I love you, Annie, and if you turn me down, it’s not going to make one lick of difference cause I’m just gonna keep on loving you anyway.’ We got married three days later." Her lip quivers as her eyes turn glossy. "The Lord knows I miss that man every day. Suppose I’ll be joining him soon enough.”

“I know he’ll be waiting, Anne,” Steve says, covering her hand with his.

“Oh well, now I’ve gotten all weepy,” she says, picking up a napkin to dab at her eyes. “Now, what about you, young man? Do you got a girl out there that you love like that?”

“Yeah,” he says, a smile ghosting his lips, “I definitely do.”

A bright flash lights up your small living room, follows a round of thunder rattling the rain-streaked windows. Wrapping your arms tighter around yourself as you sit on your worn couch with your knees pulled up, tucked under your oversized Perdue sweatshirt, you take deep soothing breaths. There have been storms since you’ve returned, but not like this. Not the kind that has the entire sky dark and purple with near-constant thunder. Not the kind with so much lighting, the hair on your arms stands up straight, and you can feel electricity buzzing in the air. It’s taken you right back there, and this time you’re alone.

With another loud boom, the lamp in the corner of the room cuts out, and the room falls into near darkness. “One-two-three,” you count, trying to keep your voice steady and breathing even. As suddenly as it turned off, the light flares on, and the display on your VCR flashes zeros. A deep sigh escapes your chest just as the door buzzer sounds.

Your muscles are stiff with tension as you stand up, moving towards the intercom, “Who is it?”

“It’s Steve.” The sound of his voice is barely audible over the pouring rain. One hand moves to your mouth while your thumb punches the button, unlocking the door. Here he is, saving you again.

Your fingers shake as you work the locks as quickly as you can, opening the door to him standing there half-drenched, hair dripping onto the collar of his soaked gray jacket, a wet crumpled bag in his right hand. He hasn’t taken a full step over the threshold when you are crushing yourself into his chest, your arms going around his middle. Stiffening, he swallows hard before dropping the bag, his arms wrapping tightly around you. He’s freezing but somehow still filling you with warmth.

“I’m sorry,” you say against his chest, “The storm.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, pulling you closer, letting his hands trail up and down your back, “you’re alright.”

The feel of his lips ghosting at your temple brings you back to awareness, and you step away from him, heat rising from your chest to your cheeks. “Sorry,” you say again, yanking on the cuffs of your sweatshirt, “You picked a good time to drop by,” you chuckle, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Yeah?” he laughs with you, “Would you mind if I come in then?”

“Ohmygod,” you cover your face with your hands, “Of course.”

Your eyes shift around your kitchen, trying to remember what you might have left out as he picks up his bag and follows you through your apartment into your living room. A small one-bedroom subsidized by the university, is a step up from the dorms you were lucky to get. The galley kitchen leads into the small living room, big enough for a sofa and a desk, that surface overflows with books and papers.

“Nice place,” he says, concern filling him as he watches you flinch with the next flash of lightning.

“Thanks.” You stand in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do now, watching as he unzips his wet jacket revealing a crisp Polo. He carefully folds it, trying to avoid tracking more water through your apartment, and looks around for somewhere he can put it down.

“Let me get you a towel,” you say, rushing from the room down the narrow hallway, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. The wind picks up outside. The storm is right over you now. Branches of the tree outside your bedroom sway back and forth, scraping against your windows. The bi-fold doors of the overstuffed closet stick when you try to pull them open.

“Shit,” you cry when they won’t budge more than an inch.

“Everything okay?” Steve’s worried voice calls from the living room.

The lights flicker as quick snaps of lightning flash like a strobe while you tug harder on the handles. Thunderclaps roar loud enough to shake the entire building as the doors burst open with one last tug that sends you falling backward onto your butt as half your closet empties onto the floor.

“No,” you press your hands to your cheeks, overwhelmed as panic and frustration claw their way up inside you. Ignoring how your head swims, you move to your knees, chasing loose geodes scattered across the floor, when you feel his hands on your shoulders.

“Leave it for now,” he says, his warm hands covering your shaking ones as he helps you to your feet. “It’s not important. We’ll get it cleaned up in a minute.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you nod, trying to slow your breathing.

“It’s okay.” He cups your jaw, tipping your head back so you’re focused on him. The deep hazel of his eyes pulls you in. “Stay with me. I’ve got you, okay? It’s you and me.”

Your hands move to his chest, bunching the fabric into your fists, bringing him closer. Despite the questions that swirl lost somewhere in your mind, you can’t deny yourself the comfort he offers.

“I won’t leave you.” His chest tightens, hoping this is a promise he’s allowed to keep.

“Why aren’t you in Boston?” you ask as a tear spills over your lash line.

“Honey,” his eyes soften as his thumb strokes your cheek, “I was never going to Boston.”

As his arms move around you, bringing you close, you let out a breath that you feel you’ve been holding since you woke up in the hospital. One that has been keeping you from falling to pieces because now you can—he’s holding you together.

Without leaving the safety of his arms, you let him lead you to the couch. Your head finds a home on his chest, and you bring your legs up, curling into him. Something warm gets tucked around you. He holds you close as the storm rages outside, his heartbeat lulling you into calm. At some point, your eyes must have closed because the sound of light rain is the next thing you remember.

“It passed,” Steve says, tightening his hold on you when he feels you stirring, hoping he doesn’t have to let you go yet. Content to stay, you snuggle in deeper, tugging the afghan tighter around you both. The familiar softness of the downy yarn catches your attention.

“Wait, where did you get this?” you ask, sitting up, the scalloped edges running between your fingers, give way to a pattern of multicolored flowers.

“I went to the cottage. Mrs. Willard gave it to me, but I knew right away that it belonged with you.” His arm slides from your shoulder, traveling the length of your back.

“You went there?” An ache runs rampant through your chest. As the sensible voice inside you begs you not to let him climb through the cracks into your heart.

“I needed to see it,” he takes your hand, eager to keep the connection, “it was exactly the same. She hasn’t changed a thing. I asked if she needed any help, but as it turned out, the only thing she needed was someone to listen.”

"And what did she say?"

“She just talked,” he shrugs. “She told me about her husband and their life together. It made me realize how much time I’ve wasted,” he lifts his eyes to yours, “You were right, I know what I want. I want you. You’re the one I can’t live without.”

After all these weeks, the words you didn't dare dream of fall easily from his lips. Leaving what was left of your battered armor to shatter and fall away.

“I should never have left you in the hospital, and I should never have said goodbye. I should have fought for you like I did there. I know you don’t think we belong together, but you loved me. Is there any part of you that still does?”

“I never stopped.” The tears run down your face faster than you can wipe them away. “I can’t. I love you, Steve.”

His eyes light up at your confession. His lips pull tight into a smile as he leans forward, dipping his head, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

“I love you,” you start again, choking on the words, “But there are things you don’t know about. Things that could change your mind.”

The secret you’ve been keeping is a band on your heart, constricting its beats. One that you know will change everything.

“Honey, whatever it is…I love you. We survived the world burning down around us. We can make it through anything.”

His hand moves to your neck, but you push him away, “No, Steve, you don’t understand,” you hiccup as the tears blur your vision. “I should have told you.”

“It’s okay. I promise,” His thumbs wipe away your tears, “Let me get you some water, and you can tell me.” He stands, leaving you for the kitchen while you try to find a way to tell him.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Steve would do the right thing, and that’s exactly why you couldn’t tell him. He would stay with you out of obligation, and one morning you’d wake up to resentment written all over his face as he trudges through the day instead of living out his dreams. You won’t take that from him. So you’ll tell him, and then you’ll let him go for the last time taking your heart with him. The cabinet bumping closed reminds you of what's pinned on your fridge.

“Steve, wait!” you scramble toward the kitchen, but you're too late. He turns the corner, his eyes lowered to the ultrasound photos he’s carrying in his hands.

You stand still, quiet sobs wracking your chest, like a chess piece on a board waiting to see if his next move will knock you down.

His eyes finally rise, full of hurt and shock. "You're having my baby."

You owe him so much more than the nod of your head, but the words stay lodged in your throat. The sound of soft rain hitting the windows fills the silence between you. He carefully sets the strip of scans on your desk, making sure they have their own spot like they’re something precious. He staggers toward you, moving slowly like he’s afraid to frighten you, his face still in a daze.

“I’m sorry,” you manage as he stops before you. He shakes his head from side to side, keeping his eyes lowered.

“You don’t have to…”

Your words trail off as he sinks to his knees. Placing a gentle hand on your belly, he leans forward until his forehead rests softly beside it.

“Hi,” he whispers, “I’m your dad.”

His fingers stroke feather light where his child is growing inside you. He’s never imagined anything more beautiful.

“You want us?” you ask in whispered tones, “Are you sure?”

“Honey, you’re giving me family. It’s all I have ever wanted.” His lips press softly against your belly.

Your breath leaves your lungs in a whoosh taking your fears with it. The love you feel for him—him and the part of him inside you, cracks open your heart until it’s filling every part of you with such a force you’re surprised you can’t see it glowing under your skin.

“Are they okay?” he asks, lifting his head, keeping his hand where it is, his eyes glossy as he looks up at you, “Is the baby okay? The Upside-down..”

“Yes,” you say, interrupting, not wanting him to worry for a second, “The baby’s fine. Developing normally. I had the ultrasound early, to be sure.” You cover his hand with yours, and he sighs in clear relief, his other hand grabbing your hip.

“You're my reason. Both of you,” he says, pulling you closer, “I’ve never been more sure.”

“You’re mine too,” you say, dropping to the floor to join him, your hand moving to his stubbled cheek, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore,” his hand cradles the back of your head, “I love you, and I’m going to take care of you if you’ll let me?”

“How about we take care of each other?”

His lips stretch into a smile before he leans forward, and they close over yours. "Deal," he agrees, going back for another kiss.

Your arms wind around his neck as he pulls you tightly against him. The plush of his lips working lazily around yours. Steve was right. He had held you like this while the world burned around you, expecting your last act to be loving each other. A love that is rare and true and written in the stars. A love that will survive the test of time. Time that neither one of you will take for granted. Living fully in each minute, watching your love grow into a family. You can feel all this in the press of his lips. The stories of your future are printed there.

"I love you," he says again because he wants you to know loving you was never a choice. His fingers move under the edge of your sweatshirt lighting trails of fire along your skin as his kiss changes from slow to hungry.

"Can I touch you?" He asks. Even though his hands are already on you, he wants your permission to go further.

"Please," you pant, already on the edge of being consumed with want, "I need you, Steve."

"I need you too, honey. Need to know you're mine." His hands lift the edge of your sweatshirt, and you raise your arms, helping him rid you of it. He barely glimpses what he's uncovered before you pull at his Polo, stretching the fabric in your greed to feel his skin against yours. He takes you back in his arms, and it feels like home. Your soft skin a contrast to the thatch of hair on his chest as you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your own. The wet slide of his kiss only makes you want more. Want all of him.

Your whimpers drive his urgency as he lets you go to retrieve a pillow from the couch and carefully lays you back on it. His fingers grip the waistband of shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs.

"You look so pretty all laid out for me," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before sitting back on his heels, his big hand landing where your knees are pushed together, "but I want to see all of you."

Your fingers trace your kiss-bitten lips, feeling the ghost of his as your thighs fall open, revealing the glossy evidence of exactly what he does to you. His fingers run absently up and down your inner thigh as he looks his fill wearing the expression of a man about to take what's his.

"Steve," you whine, feeling impatient while your hands move to your breasts adding a graceful slow roll of your hips to remind him he can do more than just look.

"Fuck, honey. How did I ever stay away from you?" he asks, crawling over to place a kiss just above your belly button, the first in a slow trail ending at the top of your pussy. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you open for his first slow lick up your center that sends your back arching off the floor.

“You taste so good. I’m already addicted,” he says, eyes catching yours before his mouth closes over you in a wet assault, tongue swirling through your folds, drawing circles around your clit.

“No one,” you gasp, clawing at the carpet while your hips fight against the press of his hands, “No one has ever made me feel this way.”

You can feel him smile against you as he slides two fingers inside your velvety heat moving in and out of you steadily, curling upward to brush against the spot that adds a new layer of euphoria radiating through you.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making you feel like this,” he pauses to kiss the plush of your thigh. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he returns his attention back to your pleasure. He groans with your gentle tugs, the vibrations rippling against your core.

“Need to get you ready for me, honey,” he says, adding a third finger. Biting down on your lip, you hiss through your teeth at the slight sting of the stretch. He gives you time to adjust, waiting until your slick soaks his fingers.

His pace quickens, changing those quick jolts of lighting into a blur of rapture. Your walls tighten as your body tenses. Your chorus of desperate moans his new favorite tune.

"That's it, give it all to me. Cum for me, beautiful." His lips close over your clit, sucking in short bursts. Your blood sings with the new sensations rushing through you, turning molten as you rise like a fiery star.

Calling his name, you fall over the edge into bliss, the world ceasing to exist beyond your connection. He helps you float down with gentle touches and light kisses placed on your belly. He can’t fight back his smile as he looks down at you. A face that he memorized every detail of, now glowing with his love and his child. He didn’t have to die to become the man he wanted to be. He just had to open his heart.

When your eyes flutter open, he’s there, deep moss swirling with amber and gold filled with love. From the first moment you met, you placed your faith in him, and fate has led you to a love you never thought you’d find. After the uncertainty, the struggles, and the fears have fallen away, love is all that is left between you.

He’s chosen you, and you, him. Once in another world and again in this one. A life together that was fought for and hard-won. As the page turns, you’re no longer fearful of what's next, knowing you’ll be together. Whatever lies ahead, you’ll take his hand and welcome the adventure.

Epilogue

"And that's why you don’t take life for granite."

A chorus of groans erupts as the students gather their books and papers when the shrill bell sounds over the loudspeaker.

"Hey, I better start getting some more laughs out of you all, or I'll be forced to assign more homework," you call out over your shoulder as you erase the formulas you had written on the blackboard.

"Will we see you later, Mrs. Harrington?" says the ringleader of a group of four boys lingering around your desk.

"Sorry, guys. No AV club tonight," you tell them as you settle into the creaking chair behind your wooden desk, "I've got plans. Next week, alright?"

"I bet you're going to be busy getting set up to watch the Perseid meteor shower?" questions Travis, the overly enthusiastic one. With a mouth full of braces and a head full of curls, he reminds you of someone else you know.

"Something like that," you smile, thinking about your plans as you tidy the papers on your desk, adjusting the large geode next to your nameplate.

"Alright, see you tomorrow," they concede, shuffling out, their disappointment already forgotten by the time they make it to the door.

"See you tomorrow," you call after them as Tina, an 8th grader with hearts in her eyes, squeezes past them into the doorway.

"A policeman in the office is asking to see you, Mrs. Harrington."

"Thank you, Tina. Can you please tell him I'll meet him outside?" you can barely hide your smile, knowing exactly why he’s here.

"Sure," she says, leaning her head against the edge of the door frame, "He's really dreamy."

“Alright, Tina,” your eyes roll, “Get to where you're supposed to be.”

She’s quick to follow instruction as you finish preparing for your next class. Leaving your room, you walk through the quiet halls and across the empty gym, the sound of your heels clicking against polished floors. Pushing open the set of double doors at the far end, a warm hand wraps around your bicep, pulling you outside into the shade of the building and maneuvers you up against the hard brick wall.

“Mmm,” you whine as Steve pulls away the collar of your blouse and attaches his lips to the spot where your pulse is speeding up, “You're going to get me in trouble,” your voice already breathless, as your hands move to his head holding him there.

“I can’t help it,” he says, running his hands along your sides, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. You’ve got me so distracted.”

“Is that so?” you ask as his lips brush over yours.

“That’s so.” His thumb tugs at your chin, coaxing you to open so he can take the kiss deeper. “I can’t even concentrate..” His words trail off as his mouth takes yours, kissing you like he did that very first time. Like you’re the only woman in the world. Like he adores you.

“Steve,” you mumble against his lip as your hands smooth up the front of the crisp tight-fitting blue button-up. Seeing him in uniform never fails to make you ache with need. The top two buttons are always undone, revealing the white shirt he wears underneath with just a glimpse of the hair on his chest showing and a shiny silver badge pinned just left of his heart. Your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck that he still wears too long to be regulation.

“What did the doctor say this morning?” He asks as one of his hands slides lower on your hip, down the side of your skirt, dipping just under the hem.

“He gave me the all clear,” you breathe out, pulling his mouth back to yours as his hand continues to climb until it finds the lacy edge of your stocking and the garter it’s attached to.

"Are you wearing lingerie?" His fingers get bolder seeking out more of the lace.

"It's new," you answer, grinding yourself against his hardening length, “I thought you deserved it. You’ve been taking such good care of everything since the baby.”

“Jesus, honey,” he groans, tipping his head back and slapping his hand against the rough wall of the building, “How am I going to wait until the kids are in bed?”

“You won’t have to. Hopper is picking up the boys after hockey, and Joyce already has the baby,” two of your fingers start walking down the front of his shirt, brushing against the leather of his belt, heading lower to the flat front of his tight black pants. “We’ll have the house to ourselves until tomorrow.”

“What about Fate?” He asks, his eyebrows pulling together, always the protector of his other favorite girl.

“She’s having a girl's night with El and Max.” you smile, knowing he would ask about your oldest. You set up this plan weeks ago. Waiting to be together after the birth of your babies is just as hard on you as it is on him.

“You’re sneaky.” His hand reaches around you to give your ass a little squeeze.

“You love it,” you admit pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” he says as the bell rings again, projected through the speaker over your heads.

“I’ve got to go,” you swat his hand away so you can straighten your skirt.

“Not yet,” he pouts, using a finger to trace your neckline, pulling it away from your body, “Just let me have a little peek,” he tries looking down the front of your blouse.

“Get out of here,” you laugh, giving him a gentle push.

“Fine,” he grumbles with a smile, turning to walk back to where his cruiser is parked.

“Tonight,” you call, making him turn and look back at you.

“Tonight,” he says, raising the fingers of his left hand to his lips, the sun glinting off the gold band on his fourth finger, “and forever.”

The End

AN: Thank you so much for sticking with this little series. It challenged me in ways that I never expected, but I learned a lot writing it.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #if tomorrow never comes #steve harrington x fem #stranger things smut

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witchersmistress · 2 years ago

Text

Pizza and orgasms

i do not give permisson for my work to be copied or used in any other form.

You've been friends with Henry for years, taking the mickey out of one another, been through all the boyfriends, girlfriends, the regrettable one night stands but there was always something that pulled you guys together. You guys got together for you weekly dinner nights when he was working or on a super busy schedule. It was a warm evening and you decided on pizza and of course Henry just had to use his big green egg grill.

Lounging outside as he cooked you talked about anything and everything, but your mind just couldn't let go of the fight you had with your ex, a few weeks ago. “Penny for your thoughts?” Henry quipped. Giving him a tight smile “Nothing just something stupid my ex said '' he rolled his eyes, he truly didn't like that man, but he was polite and respectful towards him, but that was about it, but no one was ever good enough for you and vice versa.

“Come on love, out with it” your stomach did flips every time he called you love, even after all these years. “It's..just.. Ugh'' you blew out a frustrated breath. It was just awkward to admit to this and you were ashamed of your secret. Henry reached out and squeezed your hand, nodding slightly and he encouraged you to continue. “He accused me of faking the ugh big O when I was with him. '' I felt the apples of my cheeks turning red. He chuckled softly, “That man probably wouldn't know the difference anyway, whether it was true or not.”

But that wasn't the secret you were hiding. You laughed trying to hide behind it then openly admit the truth. Taking a sip of his white wine “So what did you say” I shook my head “I told him I didn't but that wasn't the truth” he let out a hearty laugh “So you did fake it, you rascal” you gave him a sad smile. This is Henry you're talking to, your best friend in the entire world, if you couldn't tell him you couldn't tell anyone, you spoke as he took another sip of wine “ It's easy to fake when you haven't experienced it before” Henry was shocked. His eyes widened, as he set down his wine glass.”Come again?” straightening your shoulders `` Well, I've experienced orgasms by myself but not with a partner. "I looked at Henry to try and read his face but it was blank. After several long pauses he said “Baby girl” , our pizza long forgotten on the table, he got up and pulled you up with him “Come” walking into his house.

He led you to the stairs and pointed up them. Your lip quivered “Henry what are you doing?” he gave you a stern look “Up the stairs” you walked passed him up the stairs, your heart pounding in your ears. Taking a left down the hall to his bedroom he pushed open the door. Turning to face him, he backed you into the bedroom slowly, shutting and locking the door behind him.He takes your hand and leads you to the bed, pulling back the blankets and pushing you gently onto the cool, white sheets. You don’t protest. you feel numb, and your limbs are shaking as he pushes you back on the bed and lifts your legs onto it. He pulls off your jeans, dropping them to the floor. your legs shake harder, but he doesn’t give you a blanket. He kneels and spreads your knees, he moves forward and reaches for your shirt. “Do you ever cum?” “No,” you admit, letting him pull off your shirt. “I mean, yeah, but not during.” He nods, reaching behind you and unhooking your bra with no more effort than I’d put in. “From oral?” I swallow hard, dropping my gaze to the front of his pants.

He’s got you naked on the bed, and he’s hard. you weren't wrong about having the same effect on him. Your own heart is racing in your chest, and pressure builds between your legs in anticipation and fear while his eyes move down your body. Your nipples harden under his gaze, and hunger builds as he continues to drink you in with his cerulean blue eyes, lingering on the tattoos on your thigh.

“I haven’t… I’ve only given it,” you say. I don’t want to tell him the truth, that having someone so close to your center makes you more vulnerable than you want to be. So you deflect. “I take care of myself.” “Tonight, I’m going to take care of you,” he says, sliding down the bed in one smooth motion. “Henry, wait,” you protest, but he’s between your legs, pushing them wider. you don’t want him down there, seeing you, smelling you. and even though you showered earlier, you're still self-conscious. No one’s ever been down there, looking at your cunt spread open like a sacrifice. you squirm, but he slides his arms under your legs, wrapping them around your thighs from below. He grabs you right in the crease of your hips, spreading your thighs at the very top. He lifts his gaze to mine, and there’s nothing empty in his eyes now. They’re brimming with heat, with desire. “ I thought you didn’t eat pussy,” you whisper, your thighs shaking in his hands. “This isn’t pussy,” he says. “It’s you.”

He drops lower, and you grab his shoulders, suddenly more terrified of this vulnerability than of an angry Henry. you’d rather him laugh at you , no matter how much it hurts, than have him make you vulnerable like this. “You don’t have to—” My voice catches, breaking off as a shock of pure, erotic bliss rocks through you when his mouth touches you. His warm, wet tongue slowly strokes your clit, and all reason leaves you. All that’s left is the painfully exquisite sensation of his skilled, hungry mouth against your bare flesh. My fingers tangle in his hair, and with whatever bit of brainpower that remains to you, you try to pull him away because it’s too intimate, too much, and this is Henry Fucking Cavill, your best friend. “Just relax,” he murmurs, kissing you gently. “Let you make you as crazy as you make you.” Without waiting for an answer, he dips lower again, letting out a sound that’s half sigh, half moan as his tongue slips between your lips, toward your entrance.

“Don’t,” you breathe, but you barely hear the sound because you are melting, weakening, as his lips and tongue and breath combine forces, overwhelming you. you drop your head back on the pillows, gripping his hair as if it can anchor you to this world even as his mouth moves against you like magic. He explores you slowly at first, tasting and sucking, his teeth nibbling gently at you, his tongue stroking you until you can’t breathe, and your hips start jerking involuntarily against his mouth.

He grips your thighs harder, his fingers cutting into your flesh, holding you still while his tongue moves faster. you let out a soft cry when his rough tongue breaches your opening, rasping against the raw, broken skin. But his mouth is wet, and you’m wet, and soon the burning sensation is too entwined with the swirling pleasure to tell where one ends and the other begins. “Henry,” you gasp. “Stop, it’s too much, you can’t—” He lets out a rough groan and squeezes your thighs harder, opening them wider, his whole body writhing in the bed sheets as he pushes deeper, thrusting his tongue into you until you're dizzy with it. you buck under him, grabbing at the pillows, at anything, because you're going to explode if he doesn’t stop. But he doesn’t stop.

He goes on and on, moaning into you, eating you, until you can’t hold back the soft, breathy cries that have been building inside you with pleasure. He fucks you relentlessly with his mouth, his tongue, until he pushes you over the edge.It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt, not even when I’ve given yourself a good one. This one is different, unwilling almost, as he drags it from your helpless body.

A rush of wet heat flows from you in a way you’ve never felt, and you cry out, humiliation burning through you even as the orgasm clenches you in its grip. He moans deep in his throat, pushing his tongue deeper even as you cry out wordlessly, not sure if you’m telling him to stop or continue, not sure of anything except the waves of bone deep pleasure and release bearing you away on a current that you know will take you over the edge of the world into the abyss of Henry’s darkness, to be swallowed by his world.

When it ebbs, his mouth is still on you but moving slowly, his tongue lazily answering each pulse of your flesh with one of its own. you want him out, in case he didn’t notice how you came, so much it almost felt like you pissed yourself, so much it’s unladylike and humiliating and like everything about you, too fucking much. you made a mess no girl should make, and the shame aches behind your eyes as you wait for the gloating, the degrading taunts. This is Henry. There will be triumphant smirks and bragging that he proved he knows a thing or two about your body after all. He lifts his face at last, his lips shiny, his eyes wild and unfocused. “God, you taste so fucking good,” he groans.

“I want to bite the fuck out of your pussy.” “No,” you cry, shoving at his forehead. He unclamps his hands from your aching things, which will surely be bruised to hell tomorrow. Instead of climbing on top of you as I expect, he braces his hands on your inner thighs and spreads them wide, staring down at you with that hazy, transfixed expression. There’s no way he can miss what you did now. When he leans down, you tense, trying to twist away. “I’m not going to bite you,” he snaps, forcing your legs wide. “Let me lick the cream out of your cunt.”

His tongue is gentle this time, slowly winding a spiral of pleasure deeper and deeper into your core as he laps up the mess of cum from your wrecked pussy until you swear even your heart is quivering for him. When you think you can’t take it another second, he slides a long finger into you. “Cum in my hand this time, baby girl,” he murmurs. “I want to feel you gush again.” Then his mouth descends, stroking you toward an edge you know you can’t come back from. This time, you didn't even try. you let him carry you over.

#henry cavill imagine #henry cavill #friends to lovers #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill smut #henrycavilledit

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metallicaislife · 1 year ago

Text

Dreams

Requested by: Anon

Genre: 18+ Smut minors dni

Word Count: 1,226

Warnings: ouid usage, oral(f receiving), p in v sex, m x f pairing

“Oh yeah.. right there…” Cliff groaned.

I was currently rubbing a knot out of his shoulder. Cliff and I met when we were teenagers. I was alone at a concert and he just started chatting with me. Turns out we went to the same school but he was a grade above me. We’ve been inseparable since. It has always been mostly platonic. I say mostly because there have been a few times I feel like we could be more, but nothing has ever happened.

I pat Cliff’s back twice to indicate I was done. He leaned his head back, resting between my legs as he was sitting in front of the couch.

“Thank you.” He grinned.

“You’re welcome.” I smiled. The urge to just lean down and kiss him was so strong. He stared a second longer before lifting his head and standing up.

“I probably ought to head out. We’re still on for tomorrow night, right?” Cliff asked as he grabbed his jacket.

“Yup. See you tomorrow. Get home safe.” I waved from the couch.

“See ya.” He called out as the door closed.

“Urrgggghhhhhh!” I let out a frustrated noise and hit a couch pillow. Why does he have to be just so… Cliff! Right there and yet completely out of reach. Annoyed, and tired I got ready for bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

I rented a couple movies, ones we had and hadn’t seen yet. Movie nights with a smoke sesh and snacks were one of my favorite activities with Cliff.

I heard my door open and I went to greet him.

“Hey Cliff!” I grinned, going in for a hug. His eyes met mine, and there was a fiery glint in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before, as quickly as it came it went away.

“Hey, you.” He said and punched my shoulder softly.

I looked at my shoulder and then back to him.

“You good?” I asked, there was a cute blush rising on his cheeks.

“Yeah.” Was all he said as he pushed past me and into the living room. He went straight to work rolling the joint.

“How’d you sleep last night?” I asked as I collected the snacks from the kitchen.

“What? Why?” He asked sharply as I walked into the living room.

“Your back was bothering you, I was wondering if you slept well or not…” I explained setting down the snacks.

“Oh.” He chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah, uh I slept well.” He finished and put his whole focus on the joint. My eyebrow furrowed. I’ve seen Cliff off before, but this was a new level of weird. I really didn’t know what to think.

“Okay, are you sure there is nothing wrong?” I asked him as I popped a movie into the tape player.

“Yup.” He responded. I rolled my eyes and dropped the subject. I sat next to him on the couch.

Cliff finished rolling the joint and lit it taking the first hit then passed it to me. I inhaled, then blew out coughing a little. We passed it back and forth in silence. Cliff put it out and I pressed play on the movie.

“Okay but is that realistic, would that happen in real life?” Cliff complained. I’d chosen a cheesy romcom, much to his dismay. But it was always fun picking them apart.

“I mean, I don’t know.” I laughed, “Haven’t you ever had your birthday forgotten, then the dreamboat you’ve been crushing on creepily loans his girlfriend to the nerdy guy?” I asked, Cliff laughed.

“Oh yeah, at least twice.” Cliff rolled his eyes, “It would be more realistic if they were best friends, you know actually knew each other, then one of ‘em had a dream about the other.” He said. My eyebrow furrowed.

“Go on.” I said. He turned to look at me, then seemed to process what he had said.

“Ah, nope dunno where that thought process was going.” He straightened up as we had melted together. I sat up turning to him.

“Have you had that experience?” I asked. Cliff firmly shook his head, but he refused to look in my direction. “Cliiiiiiiffffffff.” I said in a sing-songy tone. He bashfully looked over to me.

“We’re high, so you can’t hold anything I say accountable.” He said.

“So what kind of dream was it?” I pushed.

“We were doing stuff.” He said, the blush from earlier in the evening came back to his cheeks.

“What kind of stuff?” I asked him. His eyes flicked up to meet mine.

“We were fucking.” He said, his demeanor changed. That fire that had passed through his features earlier was back.

“Was I on top, or you?” I asked, not breaking eye contact.

“I was.” He answered. His eyes flicked down to my lips and back up.

“Were we kissing?” I asked him. He nodded. “Where were we?”

“Your bed.” He replied.

“Why don’t you show me? I’m more of a visual person.” I said, I have no idea where this confidence was coming from. However I’m not going to blow this chance, I know both of us have been waiting for.

“Are you sure?” He whispered.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.” I replied. I stood and held my hand out to his. He took my hand and stood. He brought me into him and leaned down placing his lips on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck. I’ve thought about kissing Cliff hundreds of times. My imagination is dull compared to the real thing.

A trail of clothes led to my bedroom. I was on my bed, legs spread as Cliff ate me out with such fervence. My back arched as I moaned loudly. My fingers tangled in his hair. He groaned against my pussy. He finger fucked me as he sucked my clit until I came writhing against the bed. He kissed up my body until our lips met in a passionate kiss. My hands trailing up and down his back. He groaned into the kiss as he rubbed his dick through my folds. He rested his forehead against mine, his eyes staring into mine as he sunk in. I threw my head back as he found a comfortable pace. His lips attached to my neck as he left marks.

“So fucking beautiful. Taking my cock so well.” He praised me.

“Feels s’good.” I moaned. I wrapped my legs around his waist, he picked up his pace. I screamed as I came for a second time. Cliff came shortly after. He pulled out and rolled off of me, he pulled me with him bringing me into his embrace.

“So much better than my dream.” He muttered as he placed a kiss on my sweaty forehead.

“Don’t be so bashful about it next time, I’m more than happy to recreate it.” I grinned and kissed his chest.

“Noted.” He chuckled as he drew soft shapes on my back. “Have you had any?” He asked. I buried my face in his chest and nodded. “Well then I guess we’ve got some more recreations to get to.” He rolled us back over and nibbled on my neck. I laughed squirming underneath him.

“Let me cool down first.” I laughed. He looked up, his eyes full of mischief. I knew then, I was in for a long night.

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

#metallica #metallica x reader #metallica imagines #metallica scenarios #metallica smut #cliff burton #cliff burton x reader #cliff burton smut

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staticl0ve · 2 years ago

Text

Connor x Fem!Reader, (18+), 2k words

Newbies to sex, soft!Connor, friends to lovers, humanAU Warnings: oral sex (m!receiving)

A little something to tide my brain over while I write angst.

(18+)

Sex and Lemonade

Sheer curtains billow around an open window and a fan in the corner is working overtime to make up for the lack of AC in the Anderson home. Hank’s gone on vacation and Connor, ever so dutiful, volunteered to house sit. He invited you over to keep him company in the big, empty house which he thought would be a sort of cute, friends sleepover deal. The problem was, he was thinking with best friend goggles on and had not realized how horribly distracting it would be to have you splayed on his bed with your pretty legs peeking out of a short, flowery dress.

You’re drumming your fingers against a thigh that’s not yours, eyes wide in disbelief. Blue denim runs up Connor’s leg and he’s nose deep in a book that you’ve seen him carrying around all week. A glass of strawberry lemonade rests in your hands. Ice swirls and clacks as you stir the drink with a straw. Water beads down the side of it, dripping down onto your thighs. You’re eyeing him curiously. Connor knows he’s in trouble because his cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

“That can’t be true,” you insist.

He’s watching you, mortified as your lips wrap around a straw and he finds himself gulping when you hollow your cheeks and suck. His hand automatically finds the back of his head and he’s fumbling with his hair.

His voice is so quiet, the fan nearly drowns it out. “It is.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never had a blowjob?”

The book he’s holding instantly rises to block his blushing face. His nose bumps into its pages and you’re giggling and all he sees are your fingers pushing it lower.

“Wait, but how?” you press. The bed shifts and you move to rest on your elbows and place your face on his lap. His book gets forgotten, snaps shut and slides off the edge of the bed. He fights to contain the twitch of his cock, brown eyes widening at your placement. You’re oblivious to his struggle, gazing up at him through your lashes with an understanding smile. “In all our years at uni, it’s never happened?”

He’s biting his lip down as he memorizes the color of your lips and the way it glistens in the light. Sweat beads from your neck and down the line between your breasts. And god, it’s suddenly, brutally hot and the fan’s doing nothing to cool him off. Abruptly, Connor lurches forward to reach for his glass of lemonade before he loses his mind. It’s with a shaky hand that he manages to take a swig and place it back on a nightstand.

“I… it’s… n-never come up,” he stammers out. “Either the moment wasn’t right, or my partner wasn’t interested.”

As you let his words sink in, you push your tongue against your cheek and hum.

“I haven’t given one before. So, I guess that makes us an inexperienced pair,” you admit and take another sip of your drink. Your lips part, pink tongue searching for a straw and when you do find it, your eyes close as you let it slip into your mouth.

Connor’s fighting to keep his body in check but he can’t still the blood flooding to his hips. He lets out a small noise but covers it up with a cough. It makes your eyes snap back up at him.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Yes. I-I’m fine.”

“Did you want to try it?”

He thinks he’s hearing things. You guys are childhood friends, he’s been there when you scraped a knee, screamed at ghost stories and have chased each other from sunrise to sunset. The thoughts flooding his mind aren’t ones he should be having about a best friend. Plus, your tone is teasing, like you’re just pulling his leg and want to rile him up. He feels you shift on his lap, cheek pressed inches away from his jean zipper.

“If the situation was right and there was interest, then yes, I’d like to try it,” Connor answers.

“There is,” you offer quietly, as if you’re unsure how he’ll react. You’re missing all of his signals, the deep pink tint on his freckled cheeks and the subtle shift of his hips to reorient the denim over his crotch. “I’ve also… never done it before but it could be fun.” Alarmed, you quickly add, “But only if you want to.”

Nodding is all he’s capable of as he’s certain steam’s leaving his ears. Your eyes don’t stray far from his face and he’s grateful because he’s painfully hard now. The pressure in his jeans grows and you’re still looking at him like you’ve been daydreaming about this as long as he has.

“Connor?” you ask with uncertainty because his small nod was not enough.

“Yes. Please.”

Much to his disappointment, you rise up from his lap, place your cup next to his and sit up to face him. You’re glancing at his lips and he doesn’t waste another precious second. His arms find the dip in your waist, traces the contours of your shoulder blades and he’s pulling you in by your neck to meet his lips. There’s the barest graze of skin on skin, a small ticklish, featherlike touch before he devours you.

Suddenly, it’s all lips, teeth and tongue, soft moans and hair tugs. Connor tastes like sweet, tangy summer and vanilla. There’s the scent of sunscreen, pine and a mysterious third thing that’s always made your best friend smell like home whenever you hug him. Your hands wander over the silky texture of his short brown hair and squeeze the back of his neck. He’s warm and soft on your skin, and you’re thinking you could do this forever as his arms engulf you. You’re so lost in the feel of him that you nearly forget what you’ve set out to do.

“M’sorry,” you say, with heated cheeks and short, quick breaths. “I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

His lips hover close to yours like he’s not ready for you to part. “Please. I need you.”

Your eyes lock as you slide off his lap, palms spreading over his chest. You’re itching to see more of him. Reading your mind, firm muscles flex beneath your hands as Connor lifts the hem of his shirt past his head. He lays back into his elbows and watches you, abdominal muscles tensing in anticipation.

“Has anyone told you that you’re really pretty?” you say.

“Not… often,” he admits, shyly. “I— I’ve always thought you were.”

That makes you grin wide. “Really?”

“Really, really.” For too many years, he’s held his tongue, repressed his feelings. They’re all surfacing now that you’re straddling his lap and he’s picturing what you might look like without your sundress.

You’re stalling a bit because having him under you in these circumstances is a bit unnerving but you’re dying to know if he tastes as sweet elsewhere. Your hands shake nervously when you go to undo his jean’s top button. He hisses in relief as your fingers work their magic on the zipper, freeing his cock from restrictive denim. A beat passes and you hesitate to remove the last barrier between him and you.

“Do… do you need help?” Connor asks. He’s already a mess, brows pinched, lips parted, dark locks splaying over his forehead. You wonder what he’ll look like if this is what he’s like before you’ve even begun.

“I’ve got this,” you answer with confidence. Truthfully, your heart’s hammering in your ears but as you help him pull the hem of his boxer briefs down, your mouth falls open at the sight of him. He’s pretty and pink, thicker than what you’ve seen before and as you gauge his length, you’re a little apprehensive about fitting all of him in you.

He notices your hesitation and offers you an out.

“You d-don’t have to, if you don’t want—”

His own moan cuts him off. Your tongue flicks out, swirling around a smooth, angry red tip, catching a bead of slick on your tongue and his hips jolt. He takes you by surprise, rubbing himself against your mouth like he’s begging for more.

“S-sorry,” he chokes out but it’s all Connor manages he before you’re wrapping your lips around him. He curses from above you, hands balling sheets into his fists because he’s not sure he’ll be able to control his grip. You try to fit more of him in you, sliding his length past your curled tongue until your jaw stings a little from the stretch. Your palms have to grab his thighs as he involuntarily bucks forward, wanting to claim more of your mouth. He means to apologize again but his words die in his throat as you look back up at him.

Dear god, he’s certain he died from heat stroke because you had no reason looking so innocent with your lips stretched around him. Slowly, you hollow your cheeks and suck lightly and he’s lost. A whimper leaves his throat as you start bobbing over him. His hands give up on the sheets and bury themselves into your hair. Feeling encouraged, you move a little faster, rotating your head every now and then so your tongue can lavish the nerves you didn’t catch on your former passes. But Connor’s big and eventually you need more air than his size allows you to take in. He tries not to tug and whines when you pop off of him.

“I-is this okay?” you inquire.

Tears bead at the corners of your eyes, dripping down your cheeks and he’s moving a hand from your hair to swipe it gently across your face. He’s panting and equally out of breath, cock throbbing by your mouth. You look perfect from between his legs, hair a mess, dress straps fallen down your arms. Your breasts have slipped out from the loose material, completing his image of you as a wet dream come true. Your lips are puffy and as your tongue darts out to taste him again, he fights the sudden urge to finish all over your face.

“Baby.” He’s never called you that before and it makes your heart lurch. His voice is gentle, brown eyes sparkling with pride. Connor’s aware that this may be a one off thing between best friends but then you’re back to looking up at him with so much affection and he swears he’s never been happier. “You’re amazing… feels so good.”

His hand squeezes your cheek as you smile and lean into his touch. He’s back to moaning the second you fit him all back into your mouth, only this time you’re feeling much more confident. A light pull at his hips is all the encouragement he needs to move gently. Your hands leave his thighs to stroke the parts of him you can’t reach.

He’s fucking into your mouth at a lazy pace, sliding past your tongue and testing the limits of your throat. When you don’t recoil, and instead push him a little further so your nose rests on his pelvis, Connor lets out a low, guttural sound.

“Mmm… good girl. You’re doing so well.”

You whine around his cock and it makes his hips move faster and rougher. He throbs once more and begins to swell against your tongue. Connor’s a little lost in the moment, eyes clamped shut and hands using your hair and face as an anchor.

“Fuck, fuck. Please.”

You’re not sure what else you can do, but you try to ramp up your efforts, squeezing the base of his cock while pushing him as deep as you can go. His moans become unhinged, a series of sultry ah, ah, ah’s that strikes a deep, empty ache between your thighs. Your name gets stretched into a long shout before he’s shuddering and flooding your mouth with the salty, sweet taste of him.

It’s addicting, causing you to suck a little longer than his overly sensitive nerves can handle. He cries out, gasping your name around a moan. A hand pushes you gently off him and you’re pouting as his cock rests on your cheek. Connor calls to you, lowering himself to pull you in for a kiss. You can feel his moan as he tastes himself on your lips and his hands roam, squeezing your face. Pulling away slowly, he keeps his nose pressed against your cheek and murmurs quietly.

“You taste so sweet with me on your tongue.”

A pair of glasses with a sugary, sour drink sparkles pink and orange from a setting sun. The ice has melted but neither of you are in a rush for more refreshments. You seem content to be held by him, eyes closed and cheeks nuzzling against his. In the corner, a fan spins, lifting your dress past your thighs and Connor’s suddenly, parched.

☀️To Part Two.

💙 Back to the Masterlist.

#my writing #my blurbs #detroit: become human #dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh x reader #dbh smut #reader insert #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #rk800 x you #sex and lemonade #will there be a part two?#who knows

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decks-writing-blog · 2 months ago

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Here to Stay Drabbles: Not a Big Birthday Guy

Summary: I wonder, how would Gordon or Benrey try to handle celebrating each other’s birthdays?

‘Mr. Freeman’s b-day is on the 21st of this month. What do you think we should for it?’ read Tommy’s text.

Benrey looked up from the phone to glance over at Gordon, leading the way down the grocery store aisle with the cart. He hadn’t mentioned his birthday was coming up. It was still more than a week away but still close enough that he should’ve said something about it, right?

He turned his attention back onto the phone. ‘y u aking me?’ He’d never organized any kind of birthday celebration.

‘I was going to suggest we to go to Chuck-E-Cheese again. Do a surprise party like my Dad did for me. But then I thought maybe he wouldn’t like that. So I’m asking you. He’s your boyfriend so you’re closest to him and should know I think.’

Ooh. A party at Chuck-E-Cheese would be fun. Benrey had missed Tommy’s birthday party there because he’d been too busy coming back to life and scrambling to find a way out of Xen before he got stuck forever. But alas, Tommy was right; Gordon might not like that. The only time he’d brought up that party himself had been to complain about it how weird and uncomfortable it had been to go from his life being in danger to that ‘nonsense’. He’d immediately followed up with telling Benrey to not tell anyone he’d said that about Tommy’s birthday party, especially Tommy himself. Tommy apparently had some idea he hadn’t had fun though. Not that that was hard to guess.

But did Tommy have a point about Benrey being the person to ask about what to do instead? While it was true they lived together and were dating, Benrey had never been invited to a birthday party before – he’d crashed a few in the lab offices but none of them had been particularly fun and thus he hadn’t stuck around for long – let alone helped plan one. … He was in a good position to just ask Gordon himself though. So maybe that’s what Tommy had meant; he wanted him to ask Gordon.

Pocketing the phone, he jogged to catch up and then surpassed Gordon and his cart. Before he could protest, Benrey stepped up onto the front of it so that he was riding it while facing Gordon. Facing outward was more fun but it was conversation time.

Gordon let out a sigh as he stopped pushing. “Really, dude?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Okay, fine but I’m not going any faster. The staff here don’t get paid enough to deal with our bullshit if we crash into something.”

“That’s okay.” Their one good cart run had indeed almost ended in a crash. “We gotta talk anyway. Um, your b-day’s coming up soon. Where you wanna have the party for it? And don’t say at the lab, ‘cause I wanna go to it too.”

Gordon resumed pushing the cart with his gun hand now too. “I guess my birthday is coming up soon, huh? I’d actually kinda forgotten it. How’d you hear about it?”

“Tommy texted me. How’d you forget it?”

Gordon shrugged as he stopped them in the cereal isle. “I’m just not a big birthday guy. It kinda stops being a big deal after you turn twenty-one.”

Benrey watched for a few seconds Gordon browsed and selected his preferred cereals. He’d tried a few himself at Gordon’s instance he try different foods, none had appealed to him all that much. “Well, what you wanna do for it?”

“Uh… I don’t know. The last couple years, I haven’t done anything. Before that, I got high and watched cartoons or the year I couldn’t get any pot, got drunk instead. I’m uh… not sure doing either is a good idea with the whole…” He gestured vaguely with his gun hand, currently securely wrapped in the scarf he’d bought for it. “Being inebriated when this thing is part of me sounds like a bad idea. Not to mention all my other problems that drugs and alcohol probably wouldn’t help.” He returned to pushing the cart. “So don’t worry about, ‘kay?”

“But we gotta do something. We could go to Chuck-E…”

Gordon didn’t even let him finish before interrupting. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Damn.” Benrey had expected that though.

“If that’s where you wanna go for your birthday, that’s fine. I’ll go and even try to have fun or whatever. But just… not for my birthday, okay?”

“I don’t got a b-day though.” He hadn’t been born. They’d established that for sure when going through his files.

“Decanting day then, whatever you wanna call it. It’s on April 1st if I recall correctly. Which I’m pretty sure I do since that’s fitting. We already missed it this year but I guess instead of dealing with celebrating mine, we could have a late party for you or something if you want.”

“Ooh, could we?”

“Yeah, dude. Since you’ve never had anyone celebrate your birthday before, we could totally do something. A party with gifts and stuff or we could go somewhere special, whatever you want, dude. And I doubt any of the others will care that it’s a few months late.”

Benrey’s grip on the basket in front of him tightened. It wasn’t the first time Gordon had done something nice for him, far from it in fact, but it still felt like the emotional equivalent of a surprise warm hug. His ‘decanting day’ was months back but Gordon was willing to throw him a party for it anyway because he’d never had one before. … A late party wouldn’t be proper though, would it? Surely not. But… but… he wanted it so bad. Now that he knew it was an option, how could he possibly not want it? Waiting all the way to his next decanting day would take forever.

It had been Gordon’s birthday they’d been talking about though. Benrey couldn’t take that away and make it all about himself. “Maybe uh… we could do a double party this year? Late party for me and on time party for you. Doesn’t have to big or whatever. We maybe don’t even gotta go anywhere. Could have a home party instead.” Benrey wasn’t sure where he’d want to go anyway. The main draw was the gifts, cake, and everyone being together anyway.

Getting all of the Science Team together physically in one place wasn’t exactly rare but with everyone having jobs and their own things going on, it wasn’t exactly the most common thing in the world either. Especially since Bubby had just gotten back from losing his job at NASA a couple weeks ago. So a big double party at home would be great.

Gordon thought about it in silence for a few seconds, his expression soft; he was open to the idea. “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. So… sure, let’s have a double birthday party at home or whatever. Maybe it’ll even be fun.”

“Sweet.”

#hlvrai #here to stay drabbles #frenrey #hlvrai gordon #benrey

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foreveranevilregal · 1 year ago

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Encantober Day 3: Reunion

“You can let go now.” Bruno squirmed uncomfortably in Pepa’s grasp.

“Ay, but I missed you so much, hermanito.” Pepa squeezed him more tightly. “Can’t I have this moment of joy?”

“Can’t- breathe-“ Bruno gasped out, fighting against Pepa.

“Easy, Pepa.” Julieta placed her hand on Pepa’s shoulder. “His eyes are starting to pop out of his head.”

Reluctantly, Pepa loosened her grip.

Relieved, Bruno took a deep breath, just as Julieta pounced on him.

“What do all of you have against breathing?” He griped, sinking limply into the hug.

“Brunito, we haven’t seen you in ten years.” Alma said, her eyes misty with tears. “Surely you understand.”

“I do, but you won’t get to see me much longer if you don’t let me breathe!” He finally managed to wriggle out of the hug.

Pepa and Julieta looked at him, hurt.

Bruno sighed. “Alright, come here.” He held his arms open. “Ah, one arm hugs. One arm hugs!” He put up his hands preemptively.

This time, his sisters were gentler with him.

Bruno closed his eyes contentedly, enjoying the hug. “It’s good to see you, guys. I missed you.”

“We missed you too.” Suddenly, Pepa pulled away from the hug. “Don’t you ever disappear on us like that again!” She smacked him in the arm.

Wincing, Bruno shook out his arm. “Easy, Pepa. Keep me in one piece.” He covered his mouth with his hand and turned towards Julieta. “I forgot how strong she was.”

Hearing that, Pepa scooped him up in his arms and twirled him around. “Strong enough to pick you up, and don’t you forget it!” Realizing something, she frowned, setting him down on the ground. “Bruno, you’re so light. Have you been eating?”

He shrugged. “I got enough food. Sometimes it was hard to sneak some from the kitchen because someone would always be in there, but I’d get the rats to grab me a few arepas to tide me over.”

“Rats-“ Julieta looked horrified then sighed, smiling contentedly. “It’s over now. You can eat as much as you’d like, and no more rats in my kitchen!”

“What about other animals?” Antonio piped up, eyes shining eagerly.

“Toñito, I think Parce might be bigger than the kitchen,” Félix pointed out with a chuckle.

Everyone laughed.

“Food actually sounds pretty good,” Bruno admitted. “I haven’t eaten since,” he put up a few fingers, counting, “no matter, I’m hungry!”

Camilo’s stomach grumbled in agreement. “Let’s eat!”

“Great idea, Milo.” Julieta nodded approvingly. “I can go get started on dinner.”

“We’ll join you,” Pepa said, joining her side.

Bruno looked between the two warily. “Uh, Pepa’s allowed in the kitchen now?”

Félix shook his head “no” at Bruno but stilled his motion at a glare from Pepa.

Bruno nodded. “So, uh, dinner!” He said brightly. “Let’s go!” He stopped walking when he noticed Camilo examining him through narrowed eyes. “Something wrong, Camilo?”

Camilo gave him a disappointed once over. “You’re so…short,” Camilo pronounced.

Bruno blinked, confused. “Thank you?”

“Camilo!” Pepa whirled on her son. “That’s so rude.”

“You called him short all the time,” Agustín pointed out, becoming the latest victim of her glare.

“That’s different. That’s sibling privilege,” Pepa countered. “Camilo, you can’t say things like that to your tío.”

“Why not? He’s so short.” Camilo blew his bangs out of his eyes. “I thought he’d be like seven feet tall!”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, kid. I’m not some kind of boogeyman. Just your regular, everyday tío with a pack of rats at his service.” He bowed with a flourish.

Dolores slid in alongside him. “About the rats…tío, now that you’re finally here…” She trailed off. “Not that you were ever really gone, I could hear you in the walls, you know,” she mentioned proudly as an aside.

Bruno chuckled. “I’m guessing you were the one responsible for the conveniently ‘forgotten’ food left in the kitchen?”

Dolores’ face assumed a guilty expression. “Guilty?” She glanced out of the corner of her eye towards Julieta, who wasn’t paying attention.

Bruno waved off her concern. “Hey, no sweat. You might’ve just saved my life with that, so thank you. So what’s up?”

“Well, since I could hear you in there…” Dolores brushed a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “I heard some of your performances.” Her voice sounded more confident now. “And I am just dying to know what happens with José and María!”

“Oh.” Bruno appeared taken aback.

“Do they end up together? Or does Carmen break them up? What happens next? I need to know!” Dolores squealed, gripping his arm tightly.

“You really are your mother’s daughter, aren’t you?” Bruno shook his head good-naturedly. “Okay, so I don’t have all of it planned out yet, but here’s what I was thinking…”

They walked together as he narrated to her, his words punctuated by excited gasps and squeals.

Eventually, the family meandered inside. The kitchen became a whirlwind of activity, underscored by overlapping conversations. Finally, dinner was ready, and everyone took their places at the table, with Bruno at the head.

Next to him, Alma stood up, raising her glass. “To our family. May we never be separated again.”

Glasses clinked together at the first of many reunited Madrigal family dinners.

#bruno madrigal #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #encantober #camilo madrigal #dolores madrigal #felix madrigal #agustin madrigal #antonio madrigal #alma madrigal #encantober 2023 #encanto #reunion #foreveranevilregal writes #writing encanto #the important thing is i tried #i had a super long day at work today #please be nice

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n0v4t33z · 1 year ago

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The Syndicate - Chapter 3: Soft Hearted Criminal

Pairings: Choi San X Female Reader, Park Seonghwa X Female Reader, Ateez X Female Reader

Summary: Y/N is a Detective with a promising future in the police department until she's kidnapped by the infamous mafia boss Choi San and from him, she learns the dark secrets her superior has been hiding the whole time so she teams up with him in order to put a stop to it.

Genre: Lots of angst, Romance, Crime Fiction, Psychological Drama

Word Count: 6k

Tags/Warnings: For Mature Audiences, Language, Graphic Violence, Mentions of Illegal activities (i.e Kidnapping, extortion, assassination etc.), y/n gets roughed up by Wooyoung like twice , Slow Burn, Fluff sometimes, Work In Progress, Non-Idol AU, Mafia AU, Very suggestive at times, y/n cries alot, y/n having inner turmoil, Ateez being bad boys, Wooyoung and Yeosang are a little mean in this story tbh, Guns, Gunshot wounds, Assassination attempt(s) ,mentions death and acts of violence

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Spotify Playlist🎵 | Series Masterlist📝

Author's Note 💌 : I was supposed to post this in the beginning of August but I ended up getting a little impatient so I'm posting it now lol so I hope you guys enjoy this chapter despite how slow it is, I promise the really good chapters are coming soon! -N

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆.

The next day after mindlessly sitting there bored out of my mind I hear a light knock on the door only to see Seonghwa quietly opening the door. He gives me a small smile and mouths the words “Hey” Funnily enough I’m happy to see a criminal keep his word and not lie for once but it also doesn’t mean that I’m completely fond of the guy. Although I guess I can say so far from what he’s shown me I can mildly trust him enough to want to see him again just so I don’t get bored. “You kept your promise..” He presses his finger on his lips and says in a low voice “I told you I’d be back. I came here for a bit because I wanted to make sure you were okay.” I dryly laugh “Oh wow I- Yeah. I’m alright, a bit sore but I’m fine.” He looks at the ground for a few seconds then his gaze meets mine with a small friendly smile “So I brought you a book, I don’t know if you like to read or not but I thought maybe you’d want something to read while you’re here.” He reaches into his jacket and hands me a book, the title being “Dracula”. A smile grows onto my features admiring the cover of the book and back at Seonghwa “Thank you, I was being driven insane in here not having anything to do.” He lowers his voice “When you’re done just let me know and I can bring you another one.” He glances down at his phone looking at the time then he looks back at me slightly disappointed “I have to go now, I’m sorry it was too fast. Maybe next time I’ll be here a little while longer I don’t want San to-” There's a sudden knock at the door in which Seonghwa and I look at each other in shock. “Detective-” San enters the room and looks at both of us then back at Seonghwa “Uh? Aren’t you supposed to be out?” Seonghwa hurriedly gets up “Oh yes, my apologies I was just here dropping a book off for the Detective. She seemed bored so I thought maybe she’d like something to read.” He hums and walks over towards Seonghwa gently patting his shoulder “Make sure not to forget about the other person I told you about.” San glances at Seonghwa with a knowing glance. What was that about? Then again I don’t expect them to tell me anything, I am the prisoner here anyway. Seonghwa gets up and nods “No worries I haven’t forgotten I’ll let you know what I find..” Seonghwa looks at me with a half smile and exits the room leaving San and I alone.

“Good afternoon Detective, are you doing okay?” I shrug “I guess, I’m just sore. Jongho came by earlier this morning to give me some pain killers so I’m okay right now.” San fixes one of his rolled up sleeves. “That’s great to hear that you’re being taken care of.“ I stare at my lap not wanting to meet San’s eyes “It would be nicer if I could be let go.” San chuckles “Sorry Detective, but I can’t. Not until that issue with your superior is fixed” Of course he can’t, his revenge is his priority. “So you’re forcing me to stay just because you say so? What? Do you want me to get to know you or something too?” He shrugs “I don’t know about that, but if I'm being honest I think you know far more about me than I even know about myself.” I scoff ”That’s not true.” San lifts my chin up and looks me in the eye walking up dangerously close in front of me “You think I didn’t read all your reports and the file you have on me? You specifically stated my height and the previous homes that my family and I have lived in, including the ones before my dad became wealthy. Not many people know about my childhood home, the very detailed reports on the crime scenes I’ve been involved in just tells me that you dedicated most of your time investigating me.” Okay, I have a hard copy of his file on hand but I totally forgot I also have one in the database too just in case. Fuck, so that’s how he read it. I turn my face away and grumble ”I’m just doing my job, it’s not because you’re interesting or anything.” He chuckles “i see, well your obsession with me says otherwise.” I snap my head in his direction and raise my eyebrow “Excuse me? My only obsession is to put you in jail.” He smiles and leans in a few inches away from me “If you think you can do it, go for it. From where you’re sitting though I’d like to see you try.” I glare at him and swing my handcuffed fists at him, and without any struggle he catches my fists in mid air with his hand “If you want to hurt me you might want to be a little faster than that.” His gaze going from an amused one to a darker expression. Did I really forget who this man is? Choi San, the man wrecking havoc not only here in Ulwood but in my life as of now. The man who gets to choose what my fate is and here I am trying to hit him. So smart y/n.

I nervously swallow and lower my fists onto my lap “I-I’m sorry.” He lets out an exasperated sigh and runs his hand through his dark hair “How about we start over?” I awkwardly force a smile “Oh, uh okay.” What is wrong with me?! If I piss him off the only way I'm getting out of here is dead. “That doesn’t mean to be awkward, just be yourself.” How am I supposed to be myself when I’m literally in fear of whether or not he’s going to do something to me? Gosh, I’m going to have to just play along. I awkwardly lean back onto the headboard behind me “Fine. Why are you getting so comfortable?” San sits next to me and gives me a dimpled smile “Why not?” I nervously laugh “I mean I’m sorry but seeing you get so comfortable on my bed is just off putting.” I fidget with the chain on my handcuffs feeling the coolness of the metal between my fingers. San responds “You’re right, I guess it is kind of weird for a cop to see the criminal they’re after’s humanity.” The humanity in San? You’d think the man lost that long ago seeing his file. “Yeah, but I guess we can both learn from each other.” I force a smile and continue “So, um, What about your role model? Do you have one?” He glances at me amusingly “Wow detective these questions- Do you usually talk to people like this or?” Unable to cross my arms because of the handcuffs I roll my eyes “You literally kidnapped me, how am I supposed to talk to you like I'm not your whole ass prisoner?” San scoots closer towards me “I make you nervous don’t I?” There he goes again acting like that. “What? No, you just annoy me.” He looks deep into my eyes smirking, my ears and cheeks feeling very warm “ Hm, I don’t? Then why are your cheeks bright red?” He asks with a hint of playfulness in his voice. I thickly swallow and shake my head “No reason, it’s just really warm in here.” He chuckles “Oh, is it?”

He reaches over and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear “You’re very pretty Detective.” His cat like eyes turn into crescents when he smiles causing my heart to begin to race “Thank you” I respond trying to pass off unaffected by his charm but utterly failing. He gently brushes his fingers against the bruise left on my cheek making me slightly pull away. He gives me a slightly sad expression and sighs “I wish things would have turned out different and I didn’t have to resort to this type of thing.” Nervously I reach over to gently set my hand on his forearm, as annoying as he is now's my chance. “You know you can stop this right? Just let me go and I will see everything you need to be taken care of will happen, I’ll make sure to have the charges against you dropped.” He looks down at my hand holding his arm then looks back at me “No, I just wish it wasn’t you who has to go through this but unfortunately your partner wasn’t enough to bring Lee's attention or it would have been him who would have been taken.” I blink slightly taken aback and he continues “So, I’m sorry Detective. I just have to do this for my father because as an answer to your question from earlier, my father is my role model.. I know he probably wouldn’t have agreed with how I’m handling it but to me it’s what makes sense considering that bastard’s lack of loyalty towards my father. ” He’s crazy, but unfortunately I understand where he’s coming from. “I get it, but don’t you think he’ll be humiliated even more if he gets arrested? I’d like to add that in prison he’ll be a constant target because he’s a former cop.” San smiles “I’ll think about it” He’s lying, he’s just trying to change the subject.

“You know, I don’t know you on a personal level despite how much I know about you on file but what I do know is right now your hand is being forced. I know you don’t want to do any of this.” Maybe playing good cop as much as I can will help. He looks at the ground almost like he’s lost in thought “Yeah, something like that but not quite.” I lean in a little closer in hopes he hears me a little better “So tell me, is the Choi San you show the world the same one at home with his family, or is he different?” He glances up at me meeting my eyes “Actually, he’s different. I’ll go as far to admit that I have several versions of myself. How the world around me sees me, how my family and those closest to me see me, and lastly how I truly am.” I’m not surprised but that’s honestly sad. He probably had big shoes to fill when he took over for his father. “I see, so who is the true Choi San then? Is he kind?” Let’s see if I can get him to open up a little more. He nods “He is actually. I’m just normal, I’m nothing special. I only took over because I had to, Wooyoung suggested it would be good for my character since he thought I was too nice sometimes. Unfortunately after I took over I was not only under my family’s pressure but also under our allies’ pressure to continue to be just as equally harsh if not more than my father. I knew from the moment I took over that handling things peacefully was no longer an option out fear that my lack of experience would make them think they could just walk all over me.” I can tell he’s holding back, he doesn’t want to just say it. I can see why it would be hard for him to admit. “So what you’re saying is that the reason your crimes are so violent and harsh is because you’re under inmense pressure by the people who surround you to be more like your father, not because you want to right?” Gosh, I just feel so bad for him. That must be a heavy burden to carry all by himself. “Yes, kind of.” I press my lips into a smile “Well, just know you can always talk to me as long as I’m here. I’ll listen to you, I know it seems ironic with me being a cop and all but I guess since I’m here it doesn’t really count since I can’t really do anything..” He reaches over and removes my handcuffs “You’re right, you’re just a normal girl behind that detective facade you put up.” I get up and stretch my arms and legs “And you’re a regular guy hiding behind the mask of an evil mafia kingpin” He smirks “You’re very poetic Detective.”

He reaches over for my hand and pulls me to sit down again only he doesn’t let go of my hand and just holds it “You know, I don’t think I was supposed to you all of that.” I shake my head “Don’t worry, I’m not going to use anything against you if that’s what you’re thinking.” He lets go of my hand and slightly narrows his eyes “Okay, so how do you do it?” I furrow my brows “Uh, what do you mean? Do what?” Is he catching on? Oh gosh “You know, get people to feel so comfortable around you. Is that a cop technique or something?” It's not what I thought he was going to ask but what a relief. “Honestly I just treat people like humans, that’s it there's really no trick there.” From the corner of my eyes I notice him intently watching me and as much as I don't want to admit this, looking at his general direction is making me really shy, I feel like I shouldn't be looking at him "You are very sweet considering the type of situation you're in." I dryly laugh "You know being mean won't do me any favors and the last thing I want is for me to have to deal with Wooyoung or worse, a pissed off San. So I'd rather not." He chuckles, why is he looking at me like that? He's supposed to be my enemy why is it making me feel this way. “ Didn't you just now try to beat me with your fists and you say I'm the scary one?" I roll my eyes playfully while gently patting his shoulder "Yeah, well I'm not the criminal here sir." He blinks " What? So am I really that scary?” I nod letting out a nervous laugh “Yeah, most of my colleagues would always tell me how they’d be terrified if they ever had to face you.” San’s tongue touches the inside of his cheek looking a bit satisfied “Ah, so does that include you?” I press my lips into a straight line and I shrug “As long as you’re not pissed.” He gives me a dimpled smile and reaches over to pat my head “You don’t need to worry about that then, I really like talking to you so I doubt you’ll ever piss me off enough for me to react like that.” So as long as I’m good or Captain Lee doesn’t fuck everything up then I should be good. Stay on his good side. He lays down patting next to him “Lay with me” I thickly swallow “Um, may I ask why?” He pulls my hand enough to lay me down next to him “No reason, I’ve just heard people have really nice conversations like this.” He glances at me from the corner of his eye “I promise nothing will happen, I won’t touch you if that’s what you’re wondering. I just want to be San for a bit and have a conversation with someone.” I nod “Okay, fair enough” I lay back and turn to him only to realize he was already looking at me a little different than when we first met. Almost like his gaze soften up. I’m hoping being nice to him keeps me in good graces with him so that I can eventually leave this place.

So I think it’s been a month or so since at this point I’ve lost my sense of time. San, Jongho, and Seonghwa are mostly the people I talk to, especially San. He comes in at least a few times everyday to talk and hang out. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that some dark twisted part of me actually thinks he’s kind of cute or at least his more human side of him. Everyone else still kind of scares me especially Wooyoung so I barely say anything to the rest of them and usually staying silent when they enter the room. I'd also be lying if I didn't admit San and I started flirting a little? Okay, more like banter but it leads to the same thing, feelings. Although I'm still not sure if he actually means it or if he's just messing with me to get me to open up. Knowing him, I won't be surprised if he pulls a fast one on me because of his reputation and is just messing with me because he thinks it's a joke.

I sit in bed and I look at the empty dark gray wall grumbling under my breath “I have no idea what’s happening, I just want to leave. It’s been like a month and I already feel like I'm losing it being stuck in here.” I hug myself and bury my face in my knees and I silently begin to tear up from the overwhelming feeling of being homesick. I hate Captain Lee for being so selfish, I’m the one having to go through so much from almost getting my chest caved in to being threatened while he’s back at the station thinking that he’s lucky not having to be in my position and having the whole police force protect him. I really hope he makes the right decision or I won't forgive him for it.

About an hour goes by of me on and off crying ends up with me laying down silently staring at the door until I hear the door unlock. I expected someone else other than San but to my pleasant surprise it was him. Right as he comes in I notice how eerily silent he was, did something happen? HE 's acting quite different than normal. He sets down the food and sits next to me “Hey, I talked to Lee on the phone earlier but I have bad news.” He uncuffs me and holds both my hands giving me an expression with sadness in his eyes, seeing his face like that made my stomach drop. This is not going to be good. He lets out a long sigh and says “He isn’t going to expose himself and he’d rather have you turn up dead than renounce.” I feel nauseous.

I fucking knew it. I ball up my fists and instantaneously my eyes well up with tears making my vision blurry. I get up beginning to pace back and forth, my body feeling like I needed to walk out the anxiousness and anger “That fucking bastard… Now I have to die all because he wants to keep his dirty work under wraps.” I slam my fists onto the surprisingly hard wall completely ignoring the wave of pain going through my hands and wrists. “He fucking promised to get me out of here!!” I turn my back to the wall and slowly fall to the floor crying my eyes out. San walks over to me and sits on the floor next to me and holds my hand gently stroking my shoulder "Look, you’re not going to die." He pauses for a bit almost like he was gathering his thoughts a little. "We’ll make him think you are but you’ll be okay I promise.” I look at San with my eyes still glistening from my tears “What caused you to change your mind about me dying?” He shrugs then lifts up my hand up to his lips and gently kisses my hand. “ Well I was never intending to kill you. I was thinking and I came to the conclusion that yes, I could have easily killed you but those eyes of yours-" He pauses again almost like he was psyching himself up to finish the sentence he started "Those eyes, they made me so weak that evreytime you look at me it makes me really nervous. Almost like if I couldn’t see them anymore I wouldn’t forgive myself." He reaches over and gently squeezes my thigh "Besides, every time I’d come over and hang out with you I'd leave feeling so happy. So happy, that for those few hours I'm with you everything seems perfect.”

My heart isn’t beating faster, my heart isn’t beating faster, I swear it isn’t, I need to get ahold of myself. I look over at his perfectly chiseled face and I notice something I never really did before and it was that gaze that gave away exactly how he felt, the way his gaze lovingly connected to mine without hesitation made my heart race like I ran a marathon. I wrap any arms around San’s waist while I rest my head on his chest “Thank you, I promise to help avenge your father’s death and I'll also make sure to give you back what belongs to you. I owe you.” He looks down at me, pushes a few strands of hair behind my ear and gently strokes my cheek “No, you don’t owe me anything. The last thing I want is for you to think you do. I just don't want you to get hurt because of me.” I shake my head and I grab San’s hand “Look, I was wrong about you. I admit in the beginning I hated you, then after you told me what happened with your dad I sympathized with you but now that it’s been like a month since I’ve been here and that I've gotten to know you a lot more, I admire you. Even if I’m still scared of the type of job you have I've realized we’re not that different, we both have dangerous jobs and for the both of us we both lost someone due to tragedy. You, your dad and me, my grandfather.” I gently stroke San’s hand with my thumb.

“I know that deep down you’re not evil, you’re just working with what life has given you and I won’t judge you for it. I just want to let you know that I'll be here to help, I won’t just stand here and let Captain Lee get away with everything he’s done and not be punished for his actions. Nothing is going to happen to me, if anything now you’ll have knowledge on the police and their tactics and I know for a fact you won’t turn that down.” I give San a small smile then he looks at me and gently rubs his thumb on my cheek “Hm, you’re right I can’t turn that down but I also have something I want to ask you that I hope you don’t turn down either.” Is he going to let me leave? Maybe he feels bad now? “Yes, of course what is it?” San looks deeply into my eyes for a few seconds without saying anything, and slowly he gently tilts my head to look up at him. “Will you be mine?”

Hey, what? Woah. I mean I like him. But should I do it? Will being with him help me or will it seal my fate? Does that mean I can come and go as I please? Maybe that'll help me be trusted a lot more. It's the only chance I've got now. I nod and gently kiss his hand while I hold his hand onto my face “I would love to.” He slowly leans in to kiss me then he pulls back and gently caresses my bottom lip with his thumb “People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you, someone so caring and understanding. So I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have someone like you.” It actually happened. Me, a former detective is now dating the Boss of the mob group I used to investigate. What a weird turn of events. I can't be too vulnerable though, despite how I'm feeling at the moment I have to remember all his crimes and that with one false move I could end up with them, another name added to the list of corpses Choi San has accumulated on his file. So as twisted as this is it may work in my favor so I can escape.

I lovingly stare into his beautiful dark eyes “I honestly never thought we’d end up together either, but here you are confessing to me. It seems so surreal.” For a few minutes we sit there in silence in each other's arms until San’s radio goes off with Yeosang saying “San, Ito’s replacement is here he wants to talk.” He slightly rolls his eyes in frustration and presses the button on his radio and says “I’ll be there in a bit.” He gets up and then helps me up and sits me down on the bed then he says “I have to go, but I trust you okay? No more handcuffs.” He kisses my forehead and walks over to the door closing the door behind him. Once he's gone I look at my hands and smile “I’m free.” The next step is to make Steven Lee regret he ever threw me under the bus like that, my mother and all my loved ones will suffer over the loss of Detective Y/N but it won't be in vain. I’d rather have everyone I love think I’m dead than for them to know and live with the guilt of knowing that I no longer serve The System. Jongho, Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and San were right. Criminals do have their own reasons as to why they do the things they do. Sadly the easiest and most satisfying way to solve problems is not always the correct way.

“Hey, angel eyes get dressed you’re going to be properly introduced to everyone, the thing is though they don’t know we’re together yet. We have to wait a little longer for that. I just don’t want them to think anything that’s not true.” He walks up to me and hands me a shopping bag full of clothes. “Don’t worry, I understand. You don’t want them to assume we fucked and that’s why I was left alive.” I get up and I walk towards the bathroom, slightly flustered he pushes his glasses up with his middle finger “Uh yeah, that and I kind of never told them that I wasn't ever planning on killing you mostly because I knew there was going to be issues and no one would want to cooperate properly.” I shrug and open the door to the bathroom “Kinda fucked up but, fair enough.” I wonder how much he keeps from them, how much of a front he puts up around them. It's kind of sad now that I think about it. The poor man can never fully be himself and only carefully curated versions of him to help fit a narrative of his choice.

A few minutes later I step out of the bathroom in an all black ensemble some black jeans, a nice plain black top, a leather jacket, and my black high heeled pumps. “You know I look a little dead with these eye bags under my eyes” San walks up to me pulls me close and gently kisses my forehead “You look beautiful to me, angel eyes." He pushes a few strands of hair behind my ear and continues "Besides meeting the guys today we’re also going to go over how we’re going to help you fake your death.” I fix San’s collar holding back a huge smile. “Alright, sounds like a plan.”

San and I walk down the hallway in to a huge conference room except it was more chaotic, maps, notes, and a bunch of other papers sprawled out across the big table. There were also pictures of dozens of people presumably enemies and other rival mafia members. While I look at the pictures a few in particular catch my eye. That’s me, that’s me leaving the station with Chris a week before I was abducted. They followed me everywhere and I had no idea. How did I not notice? Whoever took those pictures was so close, kind of creepy.

I notice all seven of the members in San’s inner circle were here. I’d be lying if I say I'm not scared, because any screw up and I could seriously end up dead in a trash bin. They're all very intimidating just like San himself. San clears his throat “So, i’m sure you guys know the Detective and I've brought her here today because from now on she’s going to be working for me.” Wooyoung and Yeosang give San a surprised face mixed with disappointment. Wooyoung shifts his gaze towards me and glares at me coldly “Why? We literally kidnapped her a month ago. I don’t even think we should even be trusting a cop especially after what happened.” San raises his hand to quiet down Wooyoung and says “You’re right, but Seonghwa, Jongho, Hongjoong and myself have talked to her and she’s reliable. Not to mention she now has a personal vendetta against Lee, so she’s definitely on our side now.” Mingi then says “Okay, what can she do? How does she serve us any purpose besides a pretty face? I know she’s a cop and all but if I'm being honest cops haven’t been very impressive these days and neither was she when we kidnapped her.” Before San could talk I say “Well, besides a pretty face I was trained in both long and short range shooting, and I have a few access codes and I know my way around the police databases. Oh, and about you being able to abduct me In my defense my little detective brain short circuited.” San looks over at Mingi who looked slightly annoyed at the sarcasm tinged answer “There you go questions answered, anyone else?” Everyone stays silent then San smiles “Alright good, so please treat her well she’s one of us now."

Wooyoung whispers something into Yeosang's ear while San continues "Okay, now we’re going to be discussing how we’re going to fake the Detective’s death.” Hongjoong says “You’re really going the extra mile with that aren’t you? Can't she just pass off as a missing person?” San shakes his head “No, because if she does that the police will still consider her alive thus bringing a lot more attention to her trying to find her and since she works for us now we can’t have that. We need to get a little more creative.” After a few hours of careful and meticulous planning a way to fake my death we come up with a solution but it wasn’t one I was too comfortable with and it was taking someone that closely resembles me, remove any identifying features, burn them until they’re unrecognizable, switch my dental records with the deceased and plant my police badge on the body. Sounds easy but unfortunately I know it's not going to be, for anyone, not for the person in place of me, the Aurora syndicate's goons, and myself included. Being on the dark side of justice is not easy, but I owe San for letting me live and I need to teach Captain Lee a lesson for betraying his oath to protect and serve his department. Not to mention he let one of his own to "die" in order to save himself the embarrassment of having to resign as a traitor. Most call it revenge but I call it making it even.

After the meeting, San goes over to his office to get things in order for the plan leaving me to hang out with Seonghwa at the lounge downstairs. “So, you’re staying here?” Seonghwa asks while he takes a sip of some tea that he prepared. I shrug and cross my arms in front of my chest “Yeah San kind of changed his mind after he told me that Captain Lee was going to refuse to come clean. I felt so hurt that I basically told him that Captain Lee and the department were dead to me.” He slowly stirs his tea then he says “Wow so you’re willing to drop your department just like that? Just so you know you won’t ever have to worry about us betraying you, we’re like a family here. Although it’s still a bit off putting having you not be in total isolation and not being in handcuffs.” I rest my head on the lounge's couch arm rest while drawing shapes on it out of habit " Well yeah, I kind of have to at this point. My decision tells you a lot about me. I drop traitors like that with no remorse.”

Seonghwa and I chuckle until I hear footsteps and notice a tall dark haired male extend his hand in my direction “Hello Detective y/ln, sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Yunho by the way, we didn’t meet properly prior to the meeting earlier but it’s very nice meeting you.” I shake his hand examining the very tall man before me from the meeting earlier but it’s very nice meeting you.” I shake his hand examining the very tall man before me. He definitely didn’t look like the type of person to be involved in things like this so to say that I’m shocked is an understatement. “Thank you, It’s very nice meeting you too.” He pulls up a chair and sits in front us then says “Detective, did you know that you’re all over the news? They still think Lee is trying to find you, I’m sure they haven’t told the press the whole story yet.” Feeling my hands get cold I tuck my hands under my thighs “Yeah, I don't think they ever will but just wait until they find “my dead body” I’m sure Captain Lee is going to make up some stupid excuse as to why I ended up dead” Seonghwa furrows his eyebrows “So are you going to go completely incognito and leave your past life behind?”

I let out a long sigh and look at the fake Monet painting behind Seonghwa, and with an expressionless face I respond “Yeah, I have to. I’d rather have my family think I died not being a horrible person than know I gave in to the temptation of taking matters into my own hands. without the assistance of the law.” Yunho looks at me with a saddened and serious expression clouding over his features “You’re a former cop we all understand, I’m sure your family never expected this from you. Sometimes to protect what we love the most we have to hide the truth.” I lower my gaze and i nod “Yeah, which is also why I think it’s best you guys call me just y/n since I'm no longer a detective.” They both nod then sipping on his tea carefully Seonghwa says “If that makes you comfortable then go ahead. Don’t worry.” He reaches over to me with his free hand and pats my head continuing his thought "It's also really nice just having you with us." Yunho gives me a warm smile and adds onto Seonghwa's sentiment "Thank you for choosing not to go against us, we really do need your kind of help especially with San's goal of getting rid of Lee. It'll be a nightmare that'll soon end." I press my lips into a small smile "Any person who's got the same enemy in common as I is considered an ally in my book despite the initial differences." Seonghwa nods "I'm glad to know we can count on you, despite how some people might feel about it." Is he referring about the rest of the guys? More specifically Wooyoung? "It's fine, I understand where that fear of them trusting a cop comes from. I'll do my best to show them they can trust me." I'll probably look like a fool trying though, they seem like a very tough crowd to please.

Seonghwa, and Yunho decide to take me downstairs to the basement where Hongjoong was, the same place I was taken to talk to Captain Lee. As expected, as soon as he sees Yunho, Seonghwa and I he groans “What are you guys doing here?” Both Yunho and Seonghwa look at each other then Seonghwa replies with “We figured we’d bring Y/N to come help you with the police databases, Me and Yunho were talking to Y/N how it’s nice to have someone so versatile with us.” Hongjoong stares at me for a few seconds then says “Okay fine, but she can’t touch a computer yet until she proves herself.” I smile and raise my right hand and say “I will after my funeral ceremony I promise.” His eyebrow slightly raises and he says “Don’t promise anything, actions speak louder than words.” Seonghwa gently squeezes Hongjoong’s shoulder and says in a low voice “Come on, San doesn’t just trust anyone remember that.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes and groans “Right.” Seonghwa looks over at me and says in a very stern tone “Please, don’t betray our trust.” He then gives me a half hearted smile and leaves with Yunho leaving me with this grouchy computer genius.

Hongjoong pulls a chair over next to him and pats it “Sit, I need you to guide me with some passcodes, just use my laptop at least there I can keep track of everything you do.” He pulls his laptop out of his backpack and passes me a laptop heavily covered in stickers. A small smile grows onto my features “You like Spongebob too huh?” Concentrated into his work and not removing his focused gaze from the screen he says “Huh? Yeah why?" I shrug opening the laptop “Just asking, I like that show too.” Too weary to continue the conversation he says “Cool.” I slightly roll my eyes. Okay Rude. I begin to work on accessing all the police databases and private records. A few minutes later I successfully finish and I tap Hongjoong’s shoulder “I’m done.” He looks at the screen then at me and clicks his tongue “Oh, wow. Thank you Detective.” I smile “No problem, and just call me y/n. I’m technically not a detective anymore.” He smiles and nods “Okay, I’ll keep that noted, do you mind if I see this?” I nod and he takes the laptop from in front of me. For several minutes I see him reading and looking very concentrated reading whatever he searched up. I suddenly hear the door opening and when I look up I realize It’s Mingi and Wooyoung, neither looked too pleased to see me.

I sigh knowing there was a slight tension not just with Wooyoung and Mingi. I tried to not think about that feeling of self awareness that I was in a building full of people who can just as easily take my life just as easily as they spared it. Don’t get me wrong I like San, but no doubt he still scares me when I remember all the crimes he’s committed. The detective in me doesn’t seem to want to die. “We got the girl Hongjoong, is San done?” My stomach drops as soon as I heard Wooyoung say it in such a nonchalant way. I sit there still unable to process the fact that this will be the first crime I’ll be committing not directly but It doesn’t feel right especially knowing an innocent woman has to suffer, but despite that my I still feel very strongly at getting Captain Lee back, not just that but this is the life I willingly accepted when I accepted to be San’s girlfriend and vowed to get back at that old coward even if it's only temporary.

Still preoccupied, Hongjoong shakes his head and says “No, still up there but I’ll tell him when he’s done. You go ahead and handle that woman, keep her quiet.” Wooyoung and Mingi leave their backpacks on the floor then both walk back upstairs while they talk amongst eachother. I really don’t want to know what’s going to happen to that girl before they probably kill her. No doubt she’ll be receiving the same treatment from Wooyoung as I did when I first got here. It luckily ended early but I don't think I would have survived if I had the full experience. Hongjoong nudges my arm and I’m immediately brought back to reality. I turn to him completely playing off that I wasn’t just sitting there in shock “Hey, these files of all the police reports that Lee did back when he started out are behind an access code do you know it? I sit there for a minute trying to remember it then quickly type the access code in the little white box. Once access was granted Hongjoong takes his laptop back and looks like he’s reading through some stuff. The rest of the time I was there I was sorting out all the files we seized from the server with Hongjoong while my brain in the background kept replaying Wooyoung's "little mistake" as he likes to call it. Seeing Wooyoung so nonchalant about this whole situation knowing he's going to kill that poor girl just unsettles me. Reliving every. Single. Blow. Over. And. Over.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆.

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asordinaryppl · 2 months ago

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A3! Performance Event - Winter Troupe's Tenth Play: Nomadic Bartender - Episode 9

!! this and the next chapter are the play, while not currently voiced, reading along in game will offer a better understanding of a lot of actions that aren't perfectly described through text alone

Guy: …

Hisoka: He said he wants another glass of “Journey”.

Guy: Got it.

Hisoka: …

Guy: Is something wrong?

Hisoka: I’m glad you got to meet your dad again.

Guy: It’s all thanks to your encouragement. Because of what you told me, I was able to be honest with him.

Hisoka: I’m glad…

Hisoka: … Your dad said that…

Hisoka: Even if you had forgotten about him, the most important thing was that you were happy.

Hisoka: … August might have felt that way too.

Hisoka: In a dream, he told me that forgetting would be easier. But it was a dream, so I don’t know if that’s how he’d really feel…

Hisoka: Maybe wanting me to forget everything and live a new, happier life was a gift from August, in a way.

Hisoka: I’m sure Whizz wanted Gin to be happy, too. Away from the dangerous world of the wizards.

Hisoka: I think that he chose to erase Gin’s memories because his happiness was important to him, even if it meant Gin would forget all about him.

Guy: … That might be what it is.

Guy: I think I understand, now that I heard my father’s words.

Izumi: It’s finally the opening day.

Tsumugi: Guy-san’s acting has gotten even better ever since he reunited with his father.

Izumi: Guy-san and Hisoka-san managed to drastically improve the last scene.

Guy: …

Homare: You are invincible because you have strong allies by your side.

Guy: You’re right. I was able to reunite with my father because I had all of you supporting me.

Guy: I never thought the day when I would be able to look at him and call him Dad once again would come.

Guy: I’m truly grateful.

Guy: Today, I would like to show my father a play that depicts my and my precious friends’ growth as actors. I will be in your care.

Homare: Leave it to us.

Tsumugi: This time, let’s show him Guy-san the actor, rather than the barkeep.

Tasuku: I’m certain it’ll make him happy.

Azuma: Come, let’s go.

Hisoka: … Let’s do our best, as we usually do.

Guy: Yeah.

[Buzzer sounds, the curtain lifts]

Gin (Hisoka): “Haah… Guess it’s about time. I should just start drinking everything by myself. Once I’m done, I’ll close up shop for good.”

[Door opening]

Whizz (Guy): “Hello.”

Gin: “!! Welcome!”

Whizz: “ ——”

Gin: “Um? Is something wrong?”

Whizz: “I’d like to work here.”

Gin: “Oh, what… I’m sorry, but we’re not hiring at the moment.”

[Door opening]

Whizz: “Welcome.”

Gin: “Listen to me–”

Customer: “Hello?”

Gin: “Huh? What? You’re a customer for real? W-Welcome!”

Customer: “This is my first time here. So please give me a drink you’d recommend.”

Whizz: “Right away.”

Gin: “Hold on a sec, why’re you–”

[Whizz takes off his jacket]

Whizz: “...”

[Shake, shake, magic sparkles]

Gin: “!?”

Customer: “Woah, that’s quite the performance.”

Whizz: “Thank you for waiting. This is a Gin Fizz.”

Customer: “A Gin Fizz? Haven’t heard of that one before…”

Customer: “But it’s got a refreshing look, and it’s tasty. For some reason, it reminds me of my hometown. Ah, it’s the smell of lime…”

Gin: “Sir? Are you alright?”

Customer: “... Sorry. I started remembering all sorts of things...”

Customer: “I haven’t gone back home in a while. I’m thinking of going to see my parents.”

Customer: “Okay, with that decided, I’ve got to start packing. Thanks for the drink, it was delicious.”

Whizz: “Thank you for your patronage.”

Customer: “It was my first time here, but this is a nice place. I’ll come again.”

Gin: “Th-Thank you very much!”

[Door closes]

Gin: “That customer even left some gold coins…!”

Whizz: “He may be in disguise, but judging by his appearance, that man was a noble.”

Gin: “... I dunno about your flashy, traveling performer way of making drinks, but those skills of yours are the real deal.”

Gin: “How do you feel about going through a trial period for a while?”

Whizz: “I’ll be in your care. My name is Whizz.”

Gin: “I’m Gin, the owner. I look forward to working with you.”

Izumi: (Both Guy-san and Hisoka-san seem very motivated. As you’d expect of them, they look very natural standing next to each other in a store.)

[Door opening]

Gibson (Tasuku): “Good evening.”

Whizz: “Welcome.”

Gibson: “So there really is a shop in a place like this.”

Gin: “It’s a little hard to find, isn’t it.”

Gibson: “My friend lives nearby. He heard from an acquaintance that a new shop opened ‘round these parts, so I came to check it out. Looks like I made the right choice.”

Whizz: “What will you be having?”

Gibson: “Hmm, I wonder.”

Gibson: “Usually when I go out drinking, I’m with a large crowd, and we go wild on cheap drinks. But that isn’t the case today.”

Gibson: “Something I can drink slowly would be good.”

Gin: “Whizz-san makes magical cocktails that can wash away your worries.”

Gibson: “My worries?”

Gibson: “...”

Whizz: “I can make you something I’d recommend, if you’d like.”

Gibson: “Y-Yeah, please do.”

[Shake, shake, magic sparkles]

Gibson: “ —That’s amazing.”

Gin: “That’s why I said they’re magical.”

Gibson: “I see.”

Whizz: “Thank you for waiting. This is a Gibson.”

Gibson: “Hm? Is the cocktail called Gibson? What a coincidence. My name is Gibson.”

Gin: “... Is that also one of your tricks?”

Whizz: “Just a happy coincidence.”

Gibson: “Is this onion? Hmm, it’s my first time drinking it, but it’s quite dry.”

Whizz: “This drink is said to have originated from a man who didn’t like alcohol, so he floated onions in water to make it look like he was drinking.”

Gibson: “Just pretense…”

[Dream-like flashback starts]

Gibson’s father: “Congrats! You did it.”

Gibson’s mother: “Being assigned to the First Order of Knights means your future is all but guaranteed. That’s amazing, Gibson.”

Gibson’s father: “You’ve finally made it to where your brother is.”

Gibson’s mother: “You always seemed to fail right at the most crucial moments, so we were worried about how this would go.”

Colleague: “You can even hope you’ll get to marry an Earl’s daughter, now that you made it to the First Order of Knights. That’s gotta take a weight off your shoulder as the second son.”

Boss: “You should have your fun before you get married. But make sure you keep an eye on the people you date.”

Colleague: “This is what makes enduring those tough days of training worth it.”

Boss: “What’s with that brooding look on your face, you oughta be happy!”

Gibson: “Yeah, you’re right.”

Friend: “Listen to this, Gibson! My master has recognized my skill, I can open my own shop! Finally!”

Gibson: “Really? Congratulations!”

Friend: “We used to do this together all the time as kids. You were so good at it, that I thought you’d follow through with it too, but now you’re a knight.”

Gibson: “You’re pretty amazing, though. You used to say you’d open your own shop and be a supplier for the royal family, and look at yourself now.”

Friend: “Yeah, I’m one step closer to my dream.”

Friend: “But still, I’d have never thought that the Gibson who couldn’t hurt a fly and ran away from sword training would make it to the First Order.”

Gibson: “Right…”

[Dream-like flashback ends]

Gibson: “I’ve been wondering lately… Is this really what I wanted for myself?”

Gibson: “My discomfort grew every time I was praised and congratulated…”

Gibson: “I might have just been following what others thought was right for me all this time.”

Gibson: “Starting today, I will think about what I want to do, and what I should do moving onwards. I will think for myself, and walk through my life without following anyone else.”

Whizz: “Is that so?”

Gibson: “I feel like this cocktail cleared me of my doubts. It really is like magic. I will come again.”

Whizz: “Thank you for your patronage.”

Gin: “Thank you very much.”

[Door closes]

Whizz: “They do say that alcohol is the best medicine.”

Gin: “I’ve never heard that one before.”

[Door opens]

Whizz: “Welcome.”

Hunter (Tsumugi): “—gh.”

Gin: “Are you alright?”

Hunter: “I’m sorry. Could I rest here, at least for a little while?”

Gin: “Of course. Feel free to use the couch over there.”

Hunter: “Thank you so much…”

[Shake, shake, magic sparkles]

bro i rly dk what to call these

Gin: “Wouldn’t it be better if we gave him water?”

Hunter: “No, this is good.”

[Hunter collapses]

Hunter: “——”

Gin: “Sir? Are you alright!?”

Whizz: “He’s just sleeping, I believe.”

[Dream-like flashback starts]

Hunter’s wife: “Dear, dear.”

Hunter: “Mh?”

Hunter’s wife: “Shouldn’t you be going soon? Here, take this to snack on.”

Hunter: “Ah, thanks. I’ll go now. I’ll probably be back in around 3 days. It’ll be tough, but I know you can make it through.”

Hunter’s wife: “Yes. You be careful too, dear.”

Child A: “Mooom! I’m hungryyyy!”

Child B: “Dad, when are you gonna be back?”

Child C: “See you lateeer!”

Child D: “WEHHH! Big bro hit me!”

Child E: “I wanna go with you~!”

[Door opening]

Hunter: “I’m home…”

Hunter: “Everyone’s asleep… *sigh* I have work early tomorrow, so I should go to bed–”

Child F: “Wehhhh!”

Hunter’s wife: “Mh… You’ve been awake all night… Ah, dear, welcome back.”

Hunter: “I’ll stay up. You go and sleep.”

Hunter’s wife: “But you have to wake up early tomorrow, don’t you?”

Hunter: “It’s alright. I can get by without much sleep. I’m a hunter, after all.”

Hunter’s wife: “Fufu, how reliable. Thank you.”

Child F: “Wehhhh!”

Child G: “ Wehhhh!!”

Hunter: “Oh my, you woke up too? There, there…”

Child F: “Zzz…”

Child G: “Zzz…”

[Dream-like flashback ends]

Gin: “Sir?”

Hunter: “Ah.”

Gin: “Are you alright?”

Hunter: “I’m sorry. It seems I haven’t been sleeping enough.”

Whizz: “Here’s some water.”

Hunter: “Thank you very much. Whew…”

Hunter: “I used to make a living by hunting, but I didn’t earn enough to support my seven children like that, so I came to the capital to work.”

Hunter: “But I just can’t seem to get used to this job…”

Whizz: “It must be very lively in the house with 7 children.”

Hunter: “Yes, very. Honestly, there are times when everything is just too much, and I start worrying about whether I’ll be able to put food on the table for all of them…”

Hunter: “But, well, this isn’t something I can talk to my wife about, when she spends every waking moment taking care of our children…”

Hunter: “Thanks to sleeping earlier, though, I do feel sort of refreshed.”

Hunter: “Seeing my children’s sleeping faces in my dreams brought back some of my happiness…”

Hunter: “I want to do everything I can to raise them well.”

Whizz: “Would you like another cup?”

Hunter: “Yes, thank you very much. Um, could I also have some snacks?”

Gin: “I’m really sorry, we only serve alcohol here.”

Hunter: “Are you alright with bring-your-owns?”

Gin: “Yes, of course.”

Hunter: “That’s good. I haven’t eaten anything today…”

Gin: “They look delicious.”

Hunter: “These are the snacks I used to bring with me when I went hunting, it’s my wife’s recipe. Would you like to try one?”

Gin: “Are you sure? Thank you very much.”

Gin: “The spices work well together, it’s delicious. I suppose it’s because she cooked the meat while it was still fresh.”

Hunter: “She’ll be happy to hear that.”

Hunter: “Well then, I’ll come again some time. I’d like to come with my wife too, if possible, but I don’t know when we’ll get that chance.”

Whizz: “We will be waiting.”

Gin: “Thank you for your patronage.”

[Door closes]

Gin: “... A food menu, eh?”

[Door opening]

Rickey (Homare): “Good evening.”

Gin: “Welcome.”

Rickey: “So there really was a store here. I had no idea until I heard from a friend.”

Whizz: “What will you be having?”

Rickey: “Hmmm… Whatever you recommend.”

Whizz: “Coming right up.”

[Shake, shake, magic sparkles]

Gin: “... Isn’t this a little too sweet?”

Whizz: “I’ll simply make something else if it doesn’t suit his tastes.”

Rickey: “Is this lemon in carbonated water?”

Rickey: “I used to drink cocktails like this a lot back in my day. How nostalgic. I could only handle sweet drinks then.”

Rickey: “My friends used to tell me I should just drink plain carbonated water at that point.”

[Dream-like flashback starts]

Rickey: “Let’s increase our import of Western goods. The next queen and the distinguished princess’s mother is from there, after all. It’s bound to become popular in the capital.”

Associate A: “In that case, I happen to know a weaver.”

Associate B: “We should find a craftsman to create the tableware as well.”

Rickey: “If this works out for us, we should open our own shop.”

Associate A: “Yes.”

Associate B: “Let’s make it the biggest store in the capital!”

Subordinate A: “Rickey-san, this contract needs your approval.”

Rickey: “Ah, yes… I see no problems. You may proceed.”

Subordinate A: “Okay.”

Rickey: “By the by, how did the talks regarding Ryoran’s outlet go?”

Subordinate A: “My team is working on it. Progress is going well.”

Rickey: “I see…”

Rickey: “(My business has been growing steadily, and the number of branch locations have been increasing.)”

Rickey: “(However, all my old friends wanted to do their own thing and left. In the end, I was left by myself…)”

Rickey: “(It’s almost like the passion I had when I first opened shop has dimmed.)”

Rickey: “Whew… I should get going.”

Rickey: “Hm? There’s still a light on?”

Subordinate A: “If we want to expand our business to Ryoran, I think it’d be good for us to consider this as well.”

Subordinate B: “Quite true, the South’s culture has reached the capital, and a lot more trades have been taking place.”

Subordinate B: “Our store prides itself in its catalog of rare items.”

Subordinate A: “I’ll bring this up to Rickey-san next time.”

Subordinate B: “I will, too. I’m sure he will see the appeal!”

[Dream-like flashback ends]

Rickey: “When I was young, some friends and I opened a shop. We worked our buttocks off, and the shop quickly grew.”

Rickey: “But before I knew it, my friends started leaving, one by one. And I was eventually left alone.”

Rickey: “I thought those feelings of pushing forward that I had back then would never return.”

Rickey: “I was just reminded that I have new friends by my side.”

Rickey: “Those new friends of mine are as passionate and full of hope as I used to be…”

Rickey: “Seeing them makes me feel like there are still things I need to do.”

Rickey: “Thank you for reminding me of how I felt when I found that excitement again. I suppose this cocktail’s nostalgic taste has something to do with it.”

Whizz: “There is no need to thank me.”

Whizz: “Old friends are something you never truly forget about.”

Rickey: “It seems you also had those kinds of friends.”

Whizz: “Yes… I’ve been looking for them for quite some time, but I have not been able to find them.”

Rickey: “I’m certain you will meet again. Thank you for the drink. I will bring my new friends next time.”

Whizz: “We will be expecting you.”

[Door closes]

Gin: “I think we should close up for today soon.”

Whizz: “You’re right.”

Gin: “But still, your cocktails really do seem magical, Whizz-san.”

Gin: “Not sure if magic can be considered a compliment, though.”

Whizz: “... Perhaps so.”

Gin: “I wonder what magic actually was like?”

Gin: “I can’t really imagine it, because I only know it through fairy tales. I wonder if wizards really did exist in the past.”

Whizz: “... There should not be many people who know, nowadays.”

Gin: “Guess you’re right…”

Gin: “Ah! This is the most sales the shop has had ever since I opened!”

Whizz: “Congratulations.”

Gin: “This is all thanks to you, Whizz-san. It looks like I can keep the store running for a while longer.”

Whizz: “I'm happy to hear that.”

Whizz: “I just remembered… Do you have any plans to serve snacks or food?”

Gin: “I wish I could do so, but my cooking is terrible, and I don’t have a supplier–”

Whizz: “The bar’s location is not so bad. If we can increase the number of regulars and get them to spread the word, I think it’ll get us back on track quite quickly.”

Whizz: “Also, there don’t seem to be many shops here offering food at night, so capitalizing on that demand should work to our advantage.”

Gin: “Now that I think about it, the snacks Hunter-san gave me the other day were delicious…”

Gin: “If we can find something that can be preserved, then all we’ll need to do is plate it when it’s ordered.”

Whizz: “That sounds like a good idea. How about we discuss this in-depth tomorrow?”

Gin: “Okay!”

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NOTES:

(1) all characters in this play are named after cocktails! of all of them, rickey's history also relates to the character, as it was invented by colonel joe ricky after he asked a bartender to add lime to his bourbon with carbonated water (source)

#a3!#translation #a3! translation #tsumugi tsukioka #tasuku takato #hisoka mikage #homare arisugawa #guy nishiki

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kbrick · 2 years ago

Text

Smutty Scenes

Thank you @thehoneybeet for the tag! See honeybeet’s drool-worthy excerpts here.

Rules: pick any ten eleven fics, select some smut or pre-smut dialogue, and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, feel free to share anyway!

In looking through my own smut, I’ve learned some things about myself: 1) my characters talk a lot during sex. like seriously, shut up for a sec you guys; 2) I like writing hate sex; 3) I have a very obvious voyeurism kink that I was utterly unaware of until I created this post 😂

Below the cut, it’s all smut. So stop reading unless you want to read sex stuff.

CW: SEX. Some roughness, nothing too bad.

Running Mate (office sex, wanking, voyeurism)

Draco’s eyes fell to Harry’s prick. “I was stopping by to pick up some papers I’d forgotten,” he said, his eyes flickering back up to meet Harry’s. “And here you are, in my office, alone. And you’ve got your prick out. And you’ve…” he looked over his desk. “Put a post-it over Hermione’s face, have you?”

Harry put his head in his hands and started laughing. “Fucking hell, I can’t look you in the eye,” he managed. “I’m mortified.” He was, too. It should’ve been hot; in a porno, this definitely would’ve been hot, but it was actually the most embarrassing thing he’d ever experienced in his life, and that was really saying something. The post-it took the humiliation to a whole new level, too. He could feel his erection wilting.

He felt Draco’s hands on his, and let him pull them away from his face, and then Draco’s fingertips cupped his chin, tilting his face up slightly. “I want you to keep touching yourself,” Draco said softly. “Let me see.”

Harry swallowed, his throat feeling full. “I – what?”

“First, pull your trousers down. I can hardly see any of you,” Draco said, leaning back once more against the desk.

“I didn’t want to take them off all the way – I was worried I’d be caught –” Harry stammered.

“Little late for that, isn’t it?”

The Matchmaker’s Spell (extra-hate-y hate sex)

Potter grinned down at him, predatory and feral, then licked a stripe over his throat. “Fuck, the taste of you, Malfoy.”

Draco was moving his prick against Potter’s thigh now; too worked up to resist it. “You like it, yeah? Show me.”

Potter nipped at his shoulder, then kissed a line down his chest. Draco leaned back on his hands, his eyes fluttering closed. Potter licked over the head of his prick and he nearly screamed, but then Potter’s mouth was back up near his.

“What the fuck?” Draco cried.

“What the fuck what?” Potter asked, pinching his nipple and kissing his mouth.

“Why’d you fucking stop?”

“Because you don’t want that, remember? You just want it over with.”

“You hateful cocksucker.”

“I haven’t sucked your cock, sweetheart. Because you haven’t asked nicely.”

Draco growled. “You’re mad if you think I’m going to beg you for head.”

“I don’t think that. I know Draco Malfoy doesn’t beg. He doesn’t care enough to beg, or even ask at all,” Potter said, suddenly serious. He kissed Draco again, hard, his tongue hot, and Draco was wrapping his legs around Potter’s waist and rutting up against him, like a whore. Like a fucking whore. He hated Potter so much in that moment that it almost felt like love.

In Free Fall (outdoor sex, blowjob)

“Harry, what if somebody sees?”

“Don’t care,” he says, stroking my cock and gazing up at me. Then, with absolute confidence, he lowers his mouth and licks a firm line along the underside of my shaft.

I feel my hips move, my knees buckle. “Fuck,” I gasp.

“God, you’re gorgeous” he says, his eyes shamelessly meeting mine as he twirls his tongue around the tip, then drags it along my slit, pushing in just a little, making me shudder. “Have I told you?”

“No,” I whisper.

“I’ve thought about doing this for so long. Sucking you. Wanked to thoughts of it for as long as I can remember.”

I press a hand over my mouth and moan behind it, and he takes me down to the root, his nose pressing against my stomach. He bobs up and down on me for a moment, his cheeks hollowed out, his tongue pressing up against the underside of my cock, and he’s much too good at this, much better than I am.

Night Magic (dual wanking, voyeurism)

Then, without meaning to, he heard himself let out a low, quiet groan.

He stilled, and watched, dizzy, as Harry’s eyes opened, shining impossibly bright in the moonlit room. They met his head-on, and he stared as Harry registered what was happening, what Draco was doing, had been doing, and then…

And then he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop, he just kept at it, kept moving his hand firmly along his cock, kept fucking himself on his own fingers, kept panting, louder now, and shaking. But now he was doing it with his eyes locked on Draco’s, and his eyes were hot and terrible and full of want.

Draco began to move again, faster and harder, let himself feel all of it, pleasure trilling up and down his spine, as he stared into Harry’s green eyes. He let out a whine, anguished and needy, and saw Harry shudder.

Harry Potter and the Great Cat Caper (topping from the bottom)

After a moment, he sat up and Harry watched, entranced, as he pressed a finger into his hole, blatantly, luridly, so that Harry could see everything, and Harry’s cock, so hard and leaking already, twitched painfully at the sight of it, and at the sound of Malfoy’s moan as he fucked into himself with one finger and then two.

Harry went to pull at his own cock – it needed to be touched so badly - but Malfoy held him off, grabbing his wrist tight. “No,” he said roughly, still moving against his own hand. “That’s for me.”

Harry felt his stomach dip at the words, aching in anticipation, and then Malfoy was lifting up and positioning himself above Harry. Harry could hardly breathe as he felt Malfoy take him in hand and line him up against his hole. Malfoy looked at Harry as he very deliberately lowered himself onto Harry’s cock, and when Harry’s eyes closed at the sensation ripping through him, Malfoy grabbed his chin. “Look at me,” he said, his voice low and soft. ”I don’t want you to forget, even for a moment, who it is making you feel this way.”

Harry stared up at him as he started to move, a slow, languorous rhythm, his eyes hot on Harry’s. Harry could feel every long, endless drag of muscle against his cock ricocheting up his body and back down again, pinpricks of pleasure blooming in his skull and low in his belly. His heart was beating wildly, his breath coming in rough bursts.

He ran his hands over Malfoy’s thighs, his hips, enchanted by the look of him, by the way he moved like a snake through the grasses, hunting and hungry. He pressed his hands over the flowers blooming in a curve along Malfoy’s hips, then up, up, up, to Malfoy’s mouth.

Malfoy took Harry’s hand and let Harry push a finger into his mouth, and it was so hot and soft and wet. “What do I taste like today,” Harry asked, his voice raw.

Malfoy pulled off of Harry’s finger and smirked. “Like me. Like my sweat. Like my come.”

The Things We Need (voyeurism, gangbang)

And then they started touching him – a hand on his back, his arse, his cheek. When someone slid a finger into him, I gasped like it was me they were touching.

“You want something in your mouth, too?” I heard one of them say, and Draco’s mouth opened without question.

“Answer me,” said the man.

“Yes, please,” Draco said before letting out a high-pitched whine as someone else began to fuck him.

“You sound like a posh little princess, don’t you? A high-class whore,” the man said, and Draco only moaned and opened his mouth again.

Soon, his mouth was full of cock and he was getting fucked from behind, and I was watching in a daze. He let them come down his throat and in his arse, taking turns, new ones coming in every so often, a sea of bare skin in all different shades milling around him, talking about him like he wasn’t even there – ‘desperate for it, isn’t he?’ ‘takes cock like he was born to do it’ and ‘need to open him up wider, yeah?’.

The Remnant (sex while Harry is possessed by a demonic entity)

A calloused hand covered his mouth, and suddenly Potter was sitting astride him, clad only in a pair of navy briefs. His face came close to Draco’s and he smelled like Draco’s shampoo. “Oh, Draco, the things I’m going to do to you,” he said softly, his breath tickling Draco’s skin. Draco shuddered underneath him.

“Look at you, and all I’ve done is whisper a little something in your ear,” Potter said, chuckling. “Dra-a-aco-o-o.” He drew the name out, letting the vowels hover for too long. Then he lunged and bit, his teeth digging into the sensitive skin below Draco’s ear. Draco let out a yelp from behind the hand that still covered his mouth.

“Too hard? I can be gentle, for a while.” Then there was a kiss where the bite had been, and Draco found himself moaning and arching up, his aching cock seeking friction.

Another chuckle. “You’re almost too easy. You’re lucky I like that.” The hand fell away.

“Potter, what are you doing?” Draco hissed.

“What does it look like?” The blanket that covered him was being pulled down even though Potter wasn’t pulling it; Potter’s hands were still near Draco’s face. Potter spared a glance downward and started laughing, low, and sweet and sticky like honey.

“What?”

“So easy,” Potter said, reaching down for Draco’s cock, which was already painfully hard. “Not even a little bit of cotton on you? I think you might’ve been waiting for me.”

Song For the Dumped (desk sex, banter)

“Maybe I like to torture you,” Potter said, deliberately brushing his fingers over Draco’s prostate once again.

“Please,” Draco said. He was a proud bastard, but he needed to be fucked or he was going to die. Just keel over, right here. “Fucking hell, please.”

“Pull yourself open for me,” Potter said, kissing his back again.

Draco reached behind himself and spread his cheeks and Potter groaned. “Fuck, you look good. How do you even do that? How are you so fucking smooth?”

“My god, Potter. You git. I’m a wizard. How do you think?”

Potter shoved his fingers back in. “Be nice, or I’ll just do this all night.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Draco said.

“Try me,” said Potter.

Tapestry (jealousy, bathroom sex)

“Are you fucking him?” Potter asked.

Draco swallowed thickly. To lie or not to lie? Or continue playing coy? Although, Draco got the feeling that if he shrugged again, Potter might punch him in the face. “No. Not yet.”

“But you want to, do you?” Potter asked, leaning even closer, settling his hands on either side of Draco on the marble ledge of the sink. “Let me ask you this: do you think he’s up to the task? Because I don’t. I think he’ll be too gentle with you. He won’t know what you want. He won’t know what you need.”

Draco’s breath was coming fast now, his heart galloping in his chest. “And you think that you do?"

Potter’s mouth was at his ear. “You know I do.”

Draco Malfoy, Serial Wanker (wanking, voyeurism)

“I – I don’t know. I like that you’re watching me.”

“You like being watched, do you?"

“Yeah,” Draco breathed.

“God, you look good doing that,” Potter whispered, and Draco made a little whining sound in his throat, needy and pathetic.

“Stroke yourself, yeah?" Potter's fingertips moved down to Draco's thigh. "I’d like to see you come. Can I see you come?”

Draco managed to open his eyes. He felt drunk. “Yes,” he said.

I’m in Love With a Stripper (dirty talk, insecurity)

“You want me, too.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve wanted me all this time.”

“Yes. Yes.”

“You’ve thought about it. You’ve dreamt of it. You’ve fingered yourself thinking of me. You’ve come into your own hand calling out my name.”

“Yes, yes, goddamn you.” Draco bit at Harry’s lip, hard enough to draw blood, and his eyes were fixed on Harry’s, enormous and glowing silver in the moonlight.

“Tell me,” Harry said, reaching down between his legs.

“I’ve – mmf – I think about you all the time. Every time. When Dominic fucks me I pretend it’s you. I ride my own fingers and imagine it’s your cock –” He stopped and let out a groan as Harry pulled down his jeans and his pants and freed his prick. “It’s always you, it’s always you in my head. I can’t ever be rid of you. You’re always there.”

Harry got his fingers slick with a wandless lubrication spell and then he was pushing in, into the heat of Draco, and Draco was throwing his head back and crying out. “Tell me,” Harry said again. “Tell me what you think about.”

“Your cock, Harry. Your cock and your hands and your mouth. I think of them on me and in me; everywhere. I think about you coming in me, all over me. I think about tasting your cock. God, I think about it all the time.”

“When Dominic fucks you.”

“Yes, oh my god, yes,” He arched up and bore down, thrusting himself against Harry’s fingers. “Every time. Every single time.”

“You never think of anyone else.”

“Always you, Harry, always,” He panted, squeezing his eyes shut. He let out a guttural cry as Harry added another finger. “You’re the only one who’s fucked me since I was seventeen. Every time.”

Tagging @tackytigerfic @lqtraintracks @lettersbyelise @shealwaysreads @sweet-s0rr0w @ghaniblue @writcraft @phoebe-delia @saxamophone @gracerene @skeptiquewrites @oknowkiss PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR BEST SMUT, I NEED IT (but only if you want to and have time 💕)

#drarry #10 smut scenes #kbrick's fics #smut #tag game

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