#need to find somewhere to live in the next 2 weeks

[lucagray813]

Knock 'Em Dead - Chapter 1

Rating: T

Word Count: 6,577

Main Characters: Macaque, Wukong, MK

Minor Characters: Táng Sānzàng (Tripitaka), Shā Wùjìng, Zhū Bājiè, Áo Liè

Relationships: Macaque & Wukong (Could be interpreted as Shadowpeach)

Summary: MK learns what happened between the Six-Eared Macaque and Monkey King. He's going to wish he hadn't.

Additional Tags: Angst, Canonical Character Death

Chapter: 1/3

Chapter Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3

CW: Heavily implied torture, emotional manipulation

Link to AO3 Version

----

In the aftermath of the Azure situation, MK had promised himself two things. First and foremost, he was never going to be careless with another mystical artefact for as long as he lived. From now on, everything was handled with the utmost care and put straight into the vault with absolutely no exceptions - skeleton keys and memory scrolls had scarred him for life.

And secondly, he was going to commit every detail of Monkey King's life to memory. Mostly because chances were high that the next big bad was another person that Monkey King had pissed off but if he was being honest it was also at least a tiny bit because of Macaque's dig at him for not knowing his Monkey King lore.

Now, he was aware that the various recountings of Monkey King's life didn't have all the details - no book he could find ever mentioned Macaque for example - and so he had decided he would hear it all straight from the monkey's mouth.

It actually became something of a group event, all of them getting together at least once a week to listen to Monkey King's dramatic retellings of his life. Mr. Tang practically hung off every word that was said, while Mei and Pigsy didn't hesitate to start heckling if they felt he was embellishing too much.

MK was somewhere in the middle - part of him still unable to shake the childlike wonder he felt at the fact that he was hearing stories about the Monkey King from the Monkey King and part of him well accustomed to his many, many eccentricities by now.

It had been educational and entertaining and while he'd learned much about details missing from the book - there was still one glaring admission and so far no amount of begging or needling could get Monkey King to talk about his history with Macaque. Despite the fact the two seemed to be on better terms these days.

Macaque frequently invited himself to be a part of MK's training and after some token protests Monkey King usually allowed it rather quickly. His argument being if Macaque was here then he wasn't off scheming so he'd heroically put up with the other to ensure he wasn't causing trouble.

It was a weak excuse, but while the two could be unbelievably snarky and petty, they actually worked together pretty well and MK felt his training was coming on leaps and bounds as a result.

Macaque generally wasn't one for socialising however, and he rarely graced MK with his presence outside of training. But that's not to say MK didn't occasionally catch a glimpse of him around the island and today he was determined he was going to find him and get him to spill all the details Monkey King was holding out on him.

Macaque, of course, quickly cottoned on to the fact that he was trying to talk to him and seemed to take immense pleasure in playing keep away. His laughter rang out after every failed attempt to catch up with him, and it took a small frustrated breakdown for MK to realise that he was getting nowhere.

There was no catching Macaque if he didn't want to be caught and he was probably delighted by MK's growing frustration.

Time to stop and rethink things.

He'd have to make coming and talking to him more appealing than playing games. The solution was obvious in hindsight, and pretty confident that Monkey King was out of earshot, he shouted, "Macaque! I need your help dealing with Monkey King!"

For several long moments there was no response but just as he made to call again, Macaque's lazy drawl could be heard behind him, "Monkey King's beloved successor needs my help? And dealing with the Great Sage himself? My, oh my, who could have ever seen this coming?"

He turned around quickly to see, Macaque reclining on a branch grinning down at him, "What's that idiot done now?"

MK was quick to defend his mentor, "He's not done anything!" The fire left him quickly, "Look, Monkey King has been teaching me about his past but he's not telling me everything."

Macaque hummed thoughtfully, "Not surprising, as if he'd want you knowing the truth. Let me guess, it's me that you can't get any answers on, right?"

"Yes! I saw you both in the Scroll of Memory - I know you were important to him but you aren't in any version of Journey to the West I can find and Monkey King just refuses to talk about it!"

"I'm flattered, kid. But I'm afraid you're not entitled to my life story."

"What! Since when do you pass up on the chance to do something to annoy Monkey King!"

"Ah, but it's no fun if I just straight up tell you."

"Ugh! Well make it fun then! I don't care - I just want answers!"

Macaque titled his head, "That desperate to know you're willing to let me do as I please? That's a dangerous lack of foresight."

MK quickly backpedaled, "Tell me what you want in exchange for answers then - let's make a deal."

Macaque wasn't impressed and he sighed heavily before bringing a hand to rub at his temples, "Kid, don't go around making deals with shady demons."

A little offended he argued, "I'm not just going to agree to anything! C'mon, give me something reasonable to work with!"

"This naïvety is exactly why I stick around to help train you. We're not making a deal but I'll give you a chance to convince me why I should tell you anything."

With a wave of his hand darkness surrounded them - only leaving a cone of light surrounding MK. It was no brighter than it had been but he had to resist the urge to shade his eyes with his hand as he turned this way and that trying to find where Macaque had gone.

Macaque's voice echoed around him, "Stage is yours, kiddo. Knock 'em dead." He then chuckled at his own words, as if he'd said something funny.

He took a moment to try and centre himself and make a game plan. Somehow, "I want to know." didn't feel like it was going to cut it. In fact, that would probably have the surrounding shadows spit him out into the ocean or something.

He tried, "Look, it's not hard to see the pattern here. There's not one enemy I've come across that didn't have some tie to Monkey King, if not an outright grudge with him. I want to be prepared for whatever comes next - whoever comes next. I need to know the whole story."

Macaque hummed, "Not bad. But I'd say it's a little too late for this story to do you any good. Try again."

He hesitated for a moment, before silently asking Monkey King for his forgiveness, "Well, you've told me countless times why I shouldn't trust Monkey King but you've never actually properly explained to me why I shouldn't."

Macaque laughed a little meanly, "Do I really have to? Surely you've figured that out on your own by now. Or should we reminisce on all the ways he's let you down?"

"He's let me down, sure but he's also always come through for me in the end. And he's getting better! He's making a real effort to be open and honest - which is more than I can say for you!"

"Ooh. Ouch. Let me remind you why you're here. For information, the oh so open and honest Monkey King won't share with you."

MK resisted the urge to stamp his foot and instead crossed his arms as he took a moment to really think on what he could say to convince him. He thought back on the shadow play and what Macaque had been trying to teach him.

He took a breath, "I don't want to make the same mistakes that Monkey King did. I don't want to hurt the people I care about. Because that's what happened, right? He hurt you. He hurt you so badly you were willing to do anything to make him feel the same way."

The silence he received in return spoke volumes and he sincerely asked the shadows, "Please, help me stop that from happening again. Don't let me make those same mistakes. Help me to be better. That's why you're teaching me, right?"

The shadows swirl around him and suddenly he was sat front and centre before a dilapidated stage with Macaque standing in the middle, the shadows swirling around his peripherals.

"Not bad, MK. Your showmanship is lacking but we can work on that. Now, let me demonstrate how to really put on a show."

He moved with flair, hand flung out to the wall behind him as the shadows morphed to take the shape of five very familiar figures walking along a road.

Macaque grinned, "Our story starts with our hero and his companions travelling west. They've been on this journey for some time, overcoming every obstacle and defeating every demon that threatened their holy mission. Today's demon of the week is a little different from most though, he has no interest in immortality gained from feasting on monk flesh nor does he have a desire for revenge. He is here for one reason and that is to free the hero from his enslavement."

----

Macaque stared at the rubble that had once been Wukong's prison. For one terrifying moment he thought that Wukong was trapped beneath the carnage, dead or dying. But his ears quickly told him there was no-one alive underneath and when his brain finally started to function again he remembered Wukong's death was an impossibility.

Still, after shaking himself out of his stupor, he had his shadows investigate every nook and cranny and they confirmed that there was no trace of Wukong, which only led to more questions.

What had happened here? When had it happened? It surely hadn't been that long since his last visit? He racked his brain and felt dread bubble up as he realised it had been at least half a decade since he'd been here.

He tried to justify his absence - he'd been busy, between various threats to Flower Fruit Mountain and his research into the seals that kept Wukong imprisoned here he'd had little time for anything else.

Besides five years was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

And yet guilt still made itself known, he never let Wukong know he was here but that didn't mean he didn't try and offer him some comfort - a gentle breeze through his fur, droplets of water against his skin, a rock breaking away to land perfectly in his hand.

On occasion, he took the form of an animal that had somehow found their way into the cave or he would disguise his voice and pretend to be travellers that were unknowingly hiking above the Monkey King.

There was little he could do to break up the monotony of Wukong's punishment but he knew that these small acts were desperately received by him. If he had revealed himself he could have done more but there was only so much abuse he could take.

He understood that the mountain was driving Wukong mad but what good would bearing the brunt of that madness do for either of them?

He had been gone for too long regardless and now to make matters worse he had no idea where Wukong was.

He steadied himself, and searched for somewhere safe that he could Listen. Beneath the shattered mountain there were still caves that would serve as a safe spot. He moved through the shadows and once he reached a deep enough cave, he emerged and got to work setting up some protective seals.

Listening for anything further back than a couple of minutes left him defenseless and he might have to go back years to find out what had happened to Wukong. He was going to have one hell of a migraine after this but he had no other choice.

----

The recovery from the extended use of his Listening took longer than he would have liked, but as he lay there and processed everything he'd Heard he knew his fury at what had occurred in his absence would never be made peace with.

Wukong had been freed only to be chained like a dog expected to meekly obey the whims of an insignificant little human. He felt humiliation and injustice burn through him on Wukong's behalf.

Wukong's pained screams at that cursed circlet echoed in his ears, it haunted his nightmares. He wouldn't be able to rest until Wukong was free of it.

To that end he chased after Wukong and this monk as fast as he could. Forcing himself to stop only to Listen - he needed to know which path they had taken, he needed information on how Wukong was, and most importantly he needed to know how much this monk deserved to suffer for what he'd done.

It took some time to catch up and in that time his resolve and his anger had only gotten sharper.

When they finally came into sight he had to resist the urge to tear the monk and his little disciples to shreds there and then. He needed at least the monk alive in order to figure out how to remove the circlet. But the urge to kill was forgotten momentarily as he laid eyes on Wukong for the first time in almost a decade.

He wasn't truly free but he was freer than he had been - able to move as he pleased, able to bask in the world that existed outside of the mountain. Macaque forgot to breathe for a long moment as he took all of him in for the first time in five hundred years.

All his mind could focus on was how desperately he had missed him and with little thought behind his actions he opened a portal beneath Wukong and brought them both a safe distance away from his captors.

Wukong's surprise at being spirited away quickly turned to disbelief as he realised what had happened. Macaque grinned, and started to move towards him, "Wukong! You have no idea how glad I am that I finally found you!"

His elation was short lived and he stopped short as Wukong glared at him, "Wukong...?"

He got a growl in return, "Finally found me? You've known where I was for five hundred years! You think I want to see you now? After you left me to rot?"

Indignant he responded, "Left you to rot? I've done nothing but try and find ways to free you!"

He sneered, "Oh yeah, great job you did with that. Really appreciate you freeing me, bud. Wouldn't be here now without you." His eyes glowed dangerously, "You couldn't have spared a single moment to see me in five hundred years?"

In the face of his anger, Macaque felt his own rise in kind, "You think it's easy trying to break a seal made by the fucking Buddha? Maybe I would have figured it out by now if I wasn't still trying to tidy up your mess! Every demon and their mother wants a piece of Flower Fruit Mountain because of you!"

None of that seemed to matter as Wukong took an impassioned step forward, "You abandoned me! We were supposed to be in this together but when I needed you most you weren't there! You haven't been there for five hundred years!"

Macaque took his own angry step closer, "I was there! You think animals just wandered in of their own accord? Do you really think you could hear travellers talking above you when you couldn't hear anything else from outside? I was there!"

Wukong looked far from comforted, if anything he was enraged, "You think any of that makes up for the fact that you didn't even show yourself once? Do you have any idea how much I've suffered? You could have done something! If it had been you trapped there I would have been there every day!"

He was so full of it - Macaque would have given it a week before Wukong ran off looking for something to entertain himself with. Wukong couldn't even spend a full month on the island without getting bored and he thought he'd be able to tough it out when Macaque had no way to entertain him?

"Why would I show up every day just to be screamed at? Because that's what happened Wukong - I came to see you every week and you made sure I suffered every second of it! You should be grateful I tried to help you at all after that!"

"Oh I'm sorry! Did being trapped under a mountain make me a little short tempered? Did I hurt your feelings? I'm sure that must have been just so terrible for you. So terrible that even hundreds of years later you couldn't get over it! Five hundred years, Macaque! Is that getting through yet? Five hundred years and you weren't there!"

He felt his anger war with his guilt.

Was he just expected to suffer alongside Wukong? This punishment was the direct consequence of his actions - actions Macaque had tried to talk him out of multiple times. Was he expected to still disregard himself just to be by Wukong's side? Everything he had done in the last five hundred years had been for Wukong and it still wasn't enough.

But then he thought of Wukong alone and agonised under that mountain, the entire crux of Wukong's argument was that all he had wanted was to see him, and his weak heart couldn't take it.

His anger faltered, his entire body letting go of his tension as he conceded, "You're right. I wasn't there and I should have been..." He rallied somewhat desperately, "But I'm here now! I'm here to bring you home! I'm here to free you from this monk!"

Coldly Wukong replied, "I don't need you now. I don't need you to bring me home. I don't need you to "free" me from my master. All I need is for you to leave."

"You can't mean that..."

A loud voice cut across them, "Brother! Where are you?"

The water demon.

Wukong looked in the direction of his voice before he steeled himself and looked Macaque dead in the eye, "Go home. Once I'm done with my mission maybe then I'll be able to stand the sight of you. Until then, I don't want to see you again."

Macaque couldn't comprehend his words. He had Heard what this monk had done to him, Wukong needed him now more than ever.

He shook his head, "No. I know that you're being forced to do this. I've Heard the agony that circlet causes you. You need my help."

Irritation found its way back to Wukong's face, "You're the last person I need help from. My master is the only one who can help me. With this circlet, he's teaching me to be better."

Macaque could only stare. He thought a human that leashed him and forced him to comply with his orders and hurt him when he didn't was helping him? Had he missed the signs when he was Listening of some wicked spell this monk had cast on him. Or perhaps the mountain had finally caused Wukong to go truly mad.

"Brother! You're making our master worry for no good reason!"

The pig demon.

Wukong turned and walked away from him, towards the voices calling for him. He stopped only to look back and warn, "Go home. Don't let me see you again before I return to the island."

Macaque could only watch as he willingly chose to return to his captors.

----

Macaque did not go home.

It was even clearer now that Wukong needed his help - he had been bewitched by this human.

He stayed where he was and he Listened to Wukong as he reassured the demons that all was well, although it was clear to them that whatever had happened Wukong was not at all pleased about it. The pig simply mocked him for being taken off guard.

When they returned to the monk, Wukong was apologetic, "Sorry about that, master. A demon. Just the usual. They've been dealt with."

Macaque seethed.

The monk sounded wary, "Dealt with?"

"Yeah, I gave them a good talking to. We shouldn't be seeing them again."

The pig demon was in disbelief, "You talked to them? Why waste your breath?"

The monk's reprimand was sharp, "Zhū Bājiè!" He got a grumbled apology in return before he addressed Wukong, "Wukong, please tell me what happened. I am exceptionally pleased to hear you handled this situation without resorting to violence."

"Ah, there's nothing really to tell. Just some demon trying to tempt me away from our mission. But rest assured nothing could ever be enough to convince me to abandon you all."

He knew he was Listening.

The water demon spoke up, "What did they try and tempt you with? Don't tell me some poor soul thought they could seduce you?"

The pig snorted, "As if anyone would want the likes of him."

"Please, they don't call me the Handsome Monkey King for nothing but that's besides the point. They just thought mentions of my home would be enough to have me leave my post. As if it won't still be there once we've finished our journey."

The water demon replied, "Compared to most other ploys to steal our master from us this was a pretty weak attempt."

"Eh. It was a different take if nothing else."

The monk was not fooled, "I do not feel you are being honest with us. As much as I would like to believe you have finally learned to heed my words about abstaining from violence I doubt this was the case."

Very begrudgingly Wukong admitted, "Well, it was actually a demon I used to know. He wasn't interested in eating you at all, master. He... Just didn't understand what I was doing here. No need for a fight over that, right?"

The pig was derisive, "A demon's a demon, you should have sent him packing."

"You're a demon, you little idiot! I should send you packing!"

The monk cut in, "Enough. Wukong, it sounds like you handled the situation admirably. Zhū Bājiè, everyone is deserving of compassion, even a demon."

Wukong was tight-lipped about this demon he had known and deflected any questions regarding him. And eventually they let him be and continued to travel westward.

Wukong's submissive pandering to this mortal was almost unbearable to listen to. Had he forgotten who he was? What he was capable of? The circlet was no doubt keeping him in line but to be so subservient was surely beyond what was needed of him.

He supposed pain was a rare thing for Wukong to feel though- perhaps it truly had rattled him enough to hang off the monks every word.

A plan was slowly coming together but unfortunately any plan involving Wukong made his future Hearing all but useless. He created his own destiny, he always had. But it didn't matter, the monk was the key to all of this.

He could work with that.

----

Stealing away the monk in the dead of the night and taking his place had been laughably easy. And while it had been tempting to stay with the monk and torture him until he finally choked up the truth on how to free Wukong from the circlet, he couldn't risk anyone discovering he was missing so soon.

Leaving him in the dark with some sharp shadows however should be a nice warm up. Humans were fragile things after all, so easily frightened. Let him stew there until Macaque had the time to properly deal with him.

It made him both sick and elated to see Wukong look at him with eyes filled with love and devotion. Had he ever truly looked at him in such a way? Love perhaps but devotion?

It was best not to dwell on the answer.

Neither Wukong or his fellow demons had any suspicions. His performance was flawless - between his Listening and being exceptionally well read it was not a difficult role to play.

Eventually they stopped for a break and as the horse slept he sent the other demons away to find food and then he bid Wukong to take a short walk with him.

"Is everything alright, master? Why send away both Shā Wùjìng and Zhū Bājiè for food? One would have been enough surely?"

"You are quite right but I was hoping to have a moment to speak with you alone about this demon you encountered. You were reluctant to share any details the other day and I wanted to offer you the opportunity to speak more on the matter should you so wish."

Wukong deflated, "Ah. There really isn't anything to say. Just someone from back home that had tracked me down and wanted me to go back with him."

"I see. If I may ask, do you miss your home, Wukong? It has been sometime since you were last there, has it not?"

"Well, sure I do. You should see it, master! It's the most wonderful place in the world! I hope once we've received the scriptures you'll let me show it to you!"

He brought a hand to his heart and bowed his head ever so slightly, "I would be honoured. But I am pleased by your commitment, I could understand the temptation to visit your home."

"Of course! I'm a monkey of my word! And like I said, my home will still be waiting for me when we're done - what's a few more years away?"

"I must admit I am curious about this demon that sought you out. He travelled all the way from your home to find you? That is not an easy feat. Why did you send him away? He could have rested with us for a while, could he not?"

Wukong's face was a picture of forced neutrality, "If I'm being honest, he's not someone I was happy to see. Last time we saw each other was a long time ago and it ended badly."

"Yet he came all this way to find you? To bring you home? It does not sound as if he holds the same grudge."

Wukong's tail flicked irritably and he muttered, "He's not the one that was wronged."

Macaque feigned surprise, "He wronged you? And still you handled the situation with civility? I have underestimated you."

Wukong preened under his praise before admitting somewhat bashfully, "Well, I suppose I wasn't totally innocent in how it all went down..." He then looked away, "And he was someone I once considered a friend."

"Ah, it sounds like this is not a straightforward matter. A grievance between friends can be particularly painful. Know that should you wish for my guidance on this you need only ask."

Wukong smiled, "I appreciate that. I'd like some more time to think of it first but I've no doubt I will seek your wisdom."

"Of course. Take your time to reflect on this matter."

----

Macaque was a patient demon, but while he could play this role for some time without issue. The monk could not survive long without food or water so it was with great reluctance that he brought these necessities to him. He of course had to overcome painfully sharp shadows to reach them and that at least brought him some comfort.

His plan was simple - he needed to convince Wukong to go back to the island. Once he was there he could dedicate his time to the monk proper. He could chance it and slip away during the night but if Wukong woke and saw him missing it would jeopardize everything.

Not to mention, he was in a very lucrative position to persuade Wukong to make peace with him. Wukong listened to everything he said as the monk and he doubted he'd have to push very hard to get him to realise that the best way forward was forgiveness.

This was not a plan without risk - he had Heard about Wukong's Vision of Truth and it would only take one glance with those golden eyes for Macaque to be made. But as long as they didn't run into any trouble there really was no call for Wukong to use them.

In the meantime, he soothed Wukong's pain. Until eventually, the right opportunity presented itself.

"Five hundred years, master. I get that I wasn't great company but to just leave me there..."

"I will never understand the magnitude of such loneliness. It was part of your punishment but I can only imagine it was made worse knowing he was able to alleviate such suffering and didn't. I know it brings little peace but it does not sound as if he did this to hurt you."

A little angrily he responded, "No, he did it for himself." He then looked down eyes a little wet, "To protect himself from me..."

"I believe there may be more to it than that. I do not disagree that he likely could have visited you and that he did not out of fear of your reaction but from what you have told me that was not the only reason he was not there."

He mumbled, "He said he was trying to find a way to free me... And that he was busy protecting our home..."

Concerned he asked, "Your home is not often in danger, is it?"

"I... I don't know... But Macaque can handle it. I mean, he's not as strong as me but he's kept it safe this long, right?"

"I can only assume so. I do not know what he is capable of. Although I will certainly pray that demons the likes of which we have faced do not currently threaten him."

A small worried frown appeared on his face but still he muttered, "Macaque, can handle it..."

It did cut at his pride somewhat to sow these seeds of doubt in his ability but it was a small price to pay. He could prove himself capable when all of this was behind them.

He pretended to seriously consider the problem, "Wukong, you are capable of travelling great distances in the blink of an eye. I wonder if you promised not to be gone longer than a day if it would bring you some peace to check on your home?"

Wukong looked at him hopefully, "Are you sure, master? I could be there and back in no time at all. Just a quick check, I could leave some clones, and then when I would be free from any worries about its safety."

"Yes, I think that it is best we nip this worry of yours in the bud before it can distract you from your duty here. Just be back before dawn."

Wukong jumped to his feet, sickening adoration in his eyes, "Thank you, master! I promise, I'll be back in no time! Let me take you back to the others and I'll be on my way. I'll be sure to bring back all of your favourite fruit - oh just wait until you try them from my home!"

He patiently walked with Wukong as he continued to tell him how wonderful the food back home was and then as he explained to the others what he was planning to do. They all cheerfully put in their requests and waved off his lectures to keep their master safe.

Finally, he was gone and the pig and the horse eagerly accepted his suggestion that they rest here until he returned.

It really was exceedingly easy to cast a spell to put them all to sleep.

He returned to the monk, in the pitch black cave, and relished in his frightened sobs as he picked him up by the throat. He spoke with the monk's voice, "So sorry to have kept you waiting for so long but it took some time to convince your good, little disciple to take a quick visit back home. But for the next few hours my attention is only for you."

----

Well the monk had been disappointing to say the least, both in entertainment and in answers. Apparently only Guānyīn was capable of removing the circlet and she would only do so once the journey was completed. But there must be another way.

How to investigate it without giving himself away though...?

He pondered his next move as he watched over his sleeping disciples. There was a part of him that saw boundless opportunity by carrying on with this ruse but the risk of Wukong's Vision of Truth was too high. He needed to bring this show to its conclusion.

No doubt he could have a nearby demon kidnap them all. He just needed to explain away why the monk would think it had been almost a week and not only the day it would take Wukong to find them...

Ah, there was an artefact in the vault that might suffice - a little pocket dungeon that one could easily be fooled into thinking time moved differently within.

Easy. Reluctantly patch up the monk, shove him in the box, and hand them all over to the local demon lord. No-one need be any the wiser.

If only that's how it had all transpired.

Instead he only had seconds to leap to his feet at the sound of Wukong's nimbus hurtling towards him, he had even less time to realise that furious, golden eyes were glaring straight at him before having to dodge out of the way of the impact.

He dropped the disguise and immediately dove for a shadow portal. But he choked as his cloak was snagged and he was pulled back out and thrown through a forest of trees to slam against the side of a mountain.

He had no time to ponder the how's, not when Wukong was flying through the air, fist drawn back, and with murder in his eyes.

He managed to leap out of the way just as the mountain shattered under Wukong's strike.

Macaque had fought with Wukong many times over the years - and only occasionally had those fights ever been driven by anger and even then Wukong had never exerted his full strength.

This wasn't good.

Desperately called out, "Wukong, wait! I can explain!"

Wukong roared as he lunged at him, "You can explain!?"

Macaque was on the defensive as Wukong screamed, "You can explain why you were manipulating me!? You can explain why you tortured my master!?"

Wukong managed to catch his tail as he tried to dodge and he wasted no time using it to throw him into the nearest tree, reducing it to splinters.

He never got a chance to scrabble far before Wukong had him by the throat, and he wheezed, "I was doing it for you!"

He wasn't sure how it was possible for those eyes to burn any brighter with fury but his words managed it.

Wukong slammed him to the ground, voice terrifyingly level he said, "I told you to go home. I told you I didn't need your help. I didn't want to see you again." He increased the force in which he held him down, "And this is what you did instead?"

He grit his teeth, "They have you chained like a fucking dog. You're the Monkey King, not some pathetic mortal's pitiful slave."

He was picked up and slammed down again, "Don't speak of my master! You don't deserve to ever have laid eyes on him!"

The drive to survive and the fury of this misplaced loyalty had his shadows rise up and Wukong had no choice but to drop him and dodge their attempts to skewer him.

He stood up shakily, "Everything I ever did was for you... and yet some mortal that'll be dead in not even a fraction of our time together has more of your love and devotion than I've ever had..."

He'd seen it with his own eyes, felt the adoration Wukong had for this monk.

He had achieved Wukong's affection through force.

Is that what it took? Is that where he'd always gone wrong?

He summoned his staff and he watched as Wukong did the same. He took a haggard breath in, and he promised the impossible, "I'm bringing you home."

----

"It was a bloody fight but there's no prize for guessing how it ended. The Monkey King, of course, defeated the foul demon that had endangered his journey for the scriptures."

The shadows depicted a gruesome scene of a pleading Macaque on the floor trying to scrabble backwards as Wukong lifted the staff high above his head.

MK looked away before it could make contact with Macaque's skull.

When he looked back, it was to the scene they had started with - Wukong and the Great Companions walking along.

"And thus the pilgrims continued onwards, an event of such little significance it never even made it into the stories that would be written one day."

The shadows swirled into nothing and Macaque took a bow, "And there you have it folks, the end of the Six-Eared Macaque. Tragic, sure. But hey, not everyone gets a happy ending. That's just life for you."

MK could only stare horrified for a moment before he weakly asked, "He killed you...?"

Cheerfully Macaque responded, "Sure did. I was dead as could be until our old pal the Lady Bone Demon came by and well I'm sure you know the rest."

He didn't know what to say, he couldn't say he hadn't had some suspicions but to have it confirmed and for everything leading up to it to be so awful? It made him feel sick.

And yet his mind was a flurry of questions - How had Monkey King known what had happened? He couldn't have felt nothing about killing Macaque, right? Even if Macaque had done something that terrible - had he deserved to die? The two of them today were sort of getting on - how was that possible? How could you ever move past something like that?

"I can see I've rendered you speechless. I'd like to say it was my incredible performance but alas with a story this good the show is almost negligible."

MK stood, "Stop! This isn't- You can't-! You died! You shouldn't be-"

"What? Making light of it? Finding it funny? Hey now, do I go around telling you how to deal with your death? No, I don't."

He powered through all of that, "There's so much I don't know. How did Monkey King know? What happened after he... After you died?"

Macaque shrugged nonchalantly, "Guess you'd have to ask Old Monkey King that. Maybe he'll be feeling more inclined to share now that you have the other half of the story."

He then stretched, "Now if you'll excuse me - I'm not one for encores or for meet and greets - so I'm off to raid the wine cellars."

He grinned a little manically before falling into a portal, "See you around, MK."

MK didn't waste his breath shouting after him.

He needed to find Monkey King.

[skybluewritings]

Tell me when did your winning smile become a smirk? Steve Harrington x fem!reader Part 2/2

Warning: Mentions of alcoholism, Sexist language, references to sex

Note: This is part 2! Thank you so much to everyone who read this!

Six years later…

New York, Early June, 1990

She stared at the notepad in her lap, multiple sentences were angrily scrawled out in lines of thick biro. It was a Sunday and she’d purposefully made no plans so she could for once write but several hours later nothing was happening. Pages and pages of paper lay scrunched up around her living room floor. She’d been trying to plan out the same article for the past six months, it turned out being the personal assistant to the editor of a magazine left very little time in the day. And whilst she was of course grateful for work, any work, she had hoped in her spare time she could put to use all of her experience from the job into actually writing something good. Instead, she was left with a sore wrist and a strong case of imposter syndrome.

In her final year of school, she’d decided to apply to NYU to study Journalism. Although they went practically every summer to the east coast her parents were initially unsure about her studying in another country. However, after a trip to New York and visiting NYU they were all for it. Vivienne had called delighted at the news and had suggested she call Steve to give him a nudge in the direction of applying for college. She knew he’d always struggled in school but found it odd he wasn’t even applying? He’d seemed excited growing up at the prospect of college. She never called him but figured by the time she saw him that summer he would’ve gotten in somewhere. The summer came, except Steve wasn’t there, Clyde would barely even mention him, except for the occasional shake of the head and “that son of mine.” She quickly found out he hadn’t applied to any colleges at all and had been deliberately cut from the trip as punishment. Steve didn’t come the following year or the one after that, whilst her feelings towards him were complicated it wasn’t the same without him. The next few summers were less eventful: she’d get through her college summer reading, hang out with Margo and her friends and even finally learn how to surf.

However, this year due to how consuming her job was she doubted she’d even manage any break. She wearily rubbed at her eyes, wishing the words would come to her. Her phone thankfully began to ring and she picked it up to take the call. “Hello?”

“Hi hunny.”

“Hi Vivienne.” She said pleasantly surprised.

“I wanted to know if you’re coming up to the Vineyard for my 50th birthday? It’s on Saturday July 15th,  Your mom and dad and everyone’s gonna be there.”

She wondered who everyone was.

“I’m sorry I really wish I could but I’m so tied up at work right now.” She sighed.

 “You’re going to work yourself to the bone. Do you not have any time off you can take.”

“I have some…I just don’t know how my boss would feel.”

“Just find out and let me know.” Vivienne told her kindly. “And remember to have fun, you’re only 23 once!”

 “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind!”

“It’s late I’ll let you get to bed star journalist.”

She let out a tired laugh. “Not quite yet.”

“Keep trying sweetie and it’ll pay off, goodnight.”

She really hoped it would too.

“Night.” She replied putting down the phone.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

She spun her conversation with Vivienne over in her head for the next couple weeks. Vivienne had been like a second mother to her growing up and although she’d never admit it, it’d devastate her if (Name) didn’t come. She explained the situation to her boss who admittedly had more empathy than she’d given him credit for, he gave her a week off, going as far to comment that she was a hard worker and everyone needed a vacation. She supposed her hard work had paid off, well sort of.

There she was on Sunday July 9th climbing out of a taxi suitcase in hand. Knowing who was also possibly staying in the house made her slow the walk down the drive way to the front door. She rung the doorbell and thankfully it was Vivienne that answered. In a state of excitement Vivienne made her abandon the suitcase in the hallway and come straight out to the patio where dinner had just been served.

“Look who’s finally here!” Vivienne exclaimed.

Clyde gave her a polite smile and her parents delighted embraced her. Her stomach dropped when the person she’d dreaded seeing appeared.

Steve stood blinking at her for a few seconds. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She said back stiffly.

He looked a little older and if he had been cute before he was now infuriatingly handsome.

They took their seats and didn’t interact for the rest of the meal.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Monday July 10th

Early the next morning she woke up early to go surfing. After dinner Steve had disappeared leaving her to be fussed over by everyone else. When she’d gone to bed she’d heard his bedroom click shut, then that was it. He didn’t even bother playing any music to wind her up.

She surfed a few good waves before deciding to take a break, as she came out of the water wet suit half off, she noticed another person further out. She cupped her palm over her eyes to watch them in the morning light. The person caught an impressive wave and she had to give it to them that they were pretty good. They submerged from the water and swam back to shore. She stopped watching them and instead looked out to sea, the water lapping around her ankles. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that the person was walking towards her. And on closer inspection that the person was Steve. The universe she decided was just plain mean.

 “Morning.” She faltered.

 “I didn’t realise you surfed.”

“I learnt a while back.” She explained showing him the board.

 “That’s cool.”

It felt like they were acting out a script written by aliens. She’d always known all the things she wanted to say to him if she ever saw him again, but now her mind had gone blank.

He push his wet hair away from his face, like her his suit was also around his waist giving her view of his lean muscular torso. She caught him very briefly glance at her chest, his face flushed. Her heart sped up, it was seriously unfair how much he clearly still affected her.

“I feel I should be upfront with you. I know that a lot has happened between us but I think for the sake of your mum, for the next week I’m here we should try be civil.” She suggested.

“Yeah, I can do that.” He agreed and paused. “I just wanted to say that despite everything, it’s really good to see you, seriously.”

She didn’t quite know how to respond, but she knew in that moment she felt the same.

He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go shower but I’ll see you there.”

Her throat constricted. “Excuse me?”

 “I-I meant I’m gonna shower and then I’ll see you back at the house separately to being in the shower. You won’t obviously be in the shower with me..”

As soon as he said this her mind went to exactly that, she closed her eyes for a moment to block out the indecent image.

“Have a good shower...”

“Yep will do.” He said quickly brushing straight past her.

She wished she’d had at least a few hours away from him to shake off the embarrassment of the morning, but that afternoon she found herself on a hike, the parents at the front and her and Steve stuck at the back. She’d kept as much as distance as possible without drawing attention.

“I don’t have the plague y’know.” Steve joked.

She slowed down a little so she ended up walking next to him. “That’s what someone with the plague would say.”

“Would you rather possibly catch a deadly disease or go up there and be asked what your doing with your life?” Steve asked gesturing to where their parents were walking.

The way he was cracking jokes with her was starting to ware down her defences.

“Please don’t.” She sighed. “I’ve already been questioned several times, on when I’m ‘going to get serious’. As if being the assistant to the editor of a prominent magazine isn’t a real job.”

“I’ll do you one better, my dad still hasn’t processed that I’m majoring in graphic design.” Steve dryly told her. “I think he had hopes I would get some kind of business degree and valiantly take over his company.”

 “I know it’s long overdue but congratulations on getting into college.”

 He smiled a little at her. “Thanks.”

On the horizon was Edgartown, the largest town on Martha’s Vineyard.

“Wanna ditch them?” Steve asked her.

She wasn’t sure being alone with him was the best idea but then again she wasn’t sure how much more she could take of endlessly hiking.

“Sure.” She gingerly replied.

“We’re gonna go hang out in town, we’ll meet you guys back at the house later.” Steve called out to their parents.

They all stopped and looked at both and her Steve in surprise.

“You’re going to spend time together?” Her mum said gesturing to them.

“Yes.” She said.

“You’ll be alone, just the two of you hanging out.”

She stood up straighter. “Yes, yes we are.”

Her mum and dad exchanged a look of confusion. Clyde stared at them blankly.

Vivienne on the other hand was delighted. “Have a lovely time kids! Call the house later if you’re not gonna be back for dinner.”

“Of course they’ll be back for dinner.” Clyde interjected.

 “We might not be.” Steve said.

Clyde frowned. “We have a reservations with the Smiths at the country club, their boy Daniel will be there, he’s just graduated from Princeton.”

“And the relevance of that is?” Steve asked flatly.

“I shouldn’t have to explain it to you Steven.”

“Clyde, I think he can miss one dinner.” Vivienne calmly told her husband.

Clyde threw up his hands before walking on ahead. Vivienne didn’t bother to follow and instead walked with (Name’s) parents.

Steve glared at his dad. “Come on let’s go.” He told her.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

There was a market open when they arrived in Edgartown, their hands accidentally brushed sending a sparking sensation across her skin. He glanced at her, she looked away.

“Anywhere you like the look of?” He asked.

“How about over there.” She replied pointing to a cute jewellery stall.

She poured over the selection, the vendor was busy having a conversation with another customer.

She nudged Steve. “I bet that’d look great on me.” She said lowering her voice.

Steve held a chunky skull rung. “You mean this?”

“Obviously.”

He passed it to her and she tried it on, they both tilted their heads inspecting it.

Steve smirked. “It kind of looks like my dad.”

The tension from earlier was eased.

She laughed lightly.  “Should we get it for him?”

“That depends,” Steve pretended to think, “on how deeply you value your life.”

She nodded. “Quite a bit actually, I’d rather not end up like this ring.”

She took off the ring and placed back on the table. She then noticed a necklace with a gold chain and blue pendant. She delicately lifted it, the gem twinkling in the light.

“This reminds me of those bracelets we used to have as kids.” She said transfixed by the necklace.

Steve came closer to her and picked up the pendant in admiration. “Unlike those bracelets this probably has more value than some plastic.”

“I liked those bracelets.” She said defensively.

He smiled and shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to say I didn’t like them. Considering they cost a dollar each they were pretty cool.”

She wondered if he’d actually kept his bracelet, hers was in her bedside draw back at the house. She’d taken it off after he’d stopped wearing his and it’d been wedged into a dark corner ever since. They were so close she could make out the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Growing flustered she moved back from him adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

The vendor a woman of about their age, gazed adoringly at them. “I’m sorry but I just have to say what a cute couple you guys make.” She gushed.

Both her and Steve glanced each other a little alarmed.

 “No no, we’re not a couple, he’s a uh” She searched for a word. “Friend? Yeah, a friend.”

“My bad.” Said the vendor apologetically, she then gave Steve a coy look. “In that case-“

“He’s not interested.” She blurted out, the Vendor looked disappointed.

 (Name) put the necklace back, Steve raised his brows at her as they both walked away. “How do you know I wasn’t interested?”

“Well, were you?” She asked point blank.

“No, but I might’ve been.”

 “Trust me I saved you back there! Do you really want to go out with someone that flirts so brazenly with customers?”

He grinned at her. “What’s wrong with flirting?”

“There’s nothing wrong with flirting, I’m the last person to judge, but just don’t put customers in a position like that.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Right.”

Before she could navigate the rest of the conversation, a saviour came in the form of Margo. Her friend spotted them and excitedly weaved through the crowds.

(Name) gave her a hug. “I thought it wasn’t meant to be seeing you until tomorrow?”

“I felt like getting out the house.” Margo explained, she then noticed Steve. “It’s been a hot second Harrington, how are you? Still using that Farrah Fawcett hair spray.”

Steve looked to (Name) in silent outrage, Margo laughed quietly into the back of her hand.

“You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone.” He fumed.

“In all fairness to me, I didn’t think she’d tell you to your face.” She sheepishly said.

“Margo do not tell anyone.” Steve said firmly.

Margo threw an arm around (Name’s) shoulder. “If you buy us iced coffee right now, I won’t. Deal?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Deal, but if you break it, I’ll literally kill you both.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

When Steve was in the line buying their coffee Margo pulled her aside.

“What on earth is happening?! The last time you were both here one moment you were fighting then the next nearly kissing then not talking, I’m just in shock how you can be so normal around him?” Margo said.

“He apologised to me and we both on moved, there’s nothing more to it.”

“You’re obviously still angry though?”

“Yeah of course I am!”

“Then talk to him.”

She shook her head. “It would just complicate things, that’s way too messy of a thing to do when I’m only here until the end of the week. Me and him aren’t friends we’re being civil, this trip is about giving his mum a really great birthday, not making it all about old teenage drama.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

“Yes.”

Margo narrowed her eyes. “Mhm.”

Steve returned with the ice coffees. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good.” She said voice a little too high pitched to be convincing. “Come on let’s go check out the rest of the stalls.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Tuesday July 11th

“I can’t see anything.” Vivienne tutted, adjusting her binoculars and leaning further over the rail of the boat.

 “Mom be careful, or you’ll fall off the boat and be swallowed by a whale.” He joked.

Vivienne leant away from the edge. “If they make appearance.”

Today’s activity was whale watching, Martha’s Vineyard only offered private whale watching tours meaning it didn’t come cheap. There had been a polite argument between both her father and Clyde over who should pay, Clyde of course won, it was less about generosity and more about yet another display of wealth.

(Name) was sat at the small table and chair set, a bottle of prosecco in the centre, everyone but Vivienne had helped themselves. No one had mentioned it but so far on the trip she hadn’t seen the woman touch a single drop of alcohol.

“Darling when are we going to talk about it?” Her mum suddenly asked.

She took a sip of prosecco. “About what?”

“About what on earth you’re doing with your life!”

She groaned. “Do we have to do this now?”

“When else are we going to talk about it? Every time I bring it up you won’t talk about it.”

She set her glass down. “What is so bad about my life that you can’t leave alone?”

Her mother frowned. “The fact that after a year you’re still an assistant. An assistant! You were meant for such better things than this. You should’ve gone into law like me and dad, you’ve always had the knack for it, it’s not too late.”

She wished a whale would swallow her.

“I don’t want to do law, as I’ve told you so many times. And I’m an assistant to the editor of a respected publication, I could get promoted any day now.”

“I can’t wait to have this same conversation in another year.” Her mum sniffed.

She got up from the table. “You know what mum be disappointed in me see if I care.”

She went to the other end of the boat, her arms resting on the railing as she watched the propellors twirl through the water.

“You okay?” Steve asked coming to join her.

“I just wish my parents could be proud of me.” She admitted, lowering her eyes.

Steve exhaled heavily “Join the club.”

 “Vivienne’s proud of you, there’s no doubt about that.” She looked at him. “Did she send you?”

He shook his head. “No, no one overheard the conversation. I saw you leave looking upset, figured something was up.”

This made her chest tighten. “Oh, well that’s nice of you, thanks.”

 “I actually think your job sounds pretty great by the way, I always knew you’d end up doing something with your writing.”

He leant against the railing their arms brushing, but this time she didn’t move away.

 “My job is great-amazing even, but I haven’t written anything in a year.”

“A year?” He said in surprise.

 “Yeah, not good right? When I’m at work I’m always busy and when I’m not I’m too exhausted to even think about writing.” She sighed. “Enough about me, let’s hear about college.”

 “After I got rejected from basically every school I applied to-“

 “I thought you didn’t apply to any schools?!”

“I lied to my parents, because I was embarrassed that I was too stupid to get in anywhere.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t say that, you’re not stupid you never were.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

She smiled back at him. “Anytime.”

He glanced down to her hand that was still on his shoulder.

“Sorry.” She said her hand falling away.

His lips parted as he looked at her for a moment.

“You can carry on with your story.” She said shyly.

“Yeah, right.” He laughed nervously, springing back to life. “So, I went to a local community college to get some extra credits, 2 years later I applied to Purdue-the top college in Indianna and I’ve been there ever since.”

Her heart swelled with how proud she was of him.

“And why graphic design as your major and mathematics as a minor?”

 “I really want to get into designing video games, the mathematics part is so I can learn coding.”

She dramatically lowered her sunglasses. “Steven are you a-nerd?”

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffed.

“I’m going to spread salacious gossip about you now.” She teased.

He snorted. “Then maybe I’ll have to tell people that you were so scared of the exorcist you slept with a night light until you were 13. I think we’re at a stalemate.”

 “You’ve got me there!” She agreed. “But seriously I’m glad you’ve found something you’re passionate about.”

“I used to love going to the arcade growing up, especially when the games had those like animated segments. I like the idea that you can take someone on a journey, where they have control over whether they win or not. If you’d seen the things I have, you’d want a few more wins in life.” Steve explained, his smile fading she wondered what he was talking about but didn’t press him.

She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Well, I think your future job sounds pretty great.” She said repeating his own words.

He bumped her shoulder back. “I promise to remember you when I’m rich and famous.”

She tutted. “And there’s that infamous ego, just when we were having a nice moment.”

“Careful I might feed you to the whales.”

“If we ever see any.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

  Wednesday July 12th

After the boat trip she’d gone to hang out at Margo’s, in typical fashion her friend pried her for information about Steve. (Name) had relayed their conversation on the boat.

“I think he’s still got feelings for you.” Margo said.

She shook her head. “There’s no way.”

Margo raised a brow. “I don’t know he was ready to threw away his entire relationship for you.”

“That was a long time ago, he was 17 in his first real relationship, he was probably just confused.”

“Then why is he acting so friendly with you now? In fact why are you acting so friendly with him? You like him don’t you! And don’t give me the it’s because we’re being civil crap.”

“I think he’s just missed me and is just happy to see me, despite what we’ve gone through. I feel the same, even if it’s still complicated with him.” (Name) confessed.

“I’m going out with some friends Friday night you guys should both come and I can assess the vibe.” Margo said.

“Assess away, but you’re going to come up empty handed.” She warned.

Following the whale watching, Vivienne had taken her, Steve and her mum to a painting class.

She leant over to Steve and whispered. “Do you think we’re going to have to paint a naked person?”

“If we do, I’m leaving.” He whispered back.

Thankfully there was no nudity and it was instead a bowl of fruit. After half an hour of painting her canvas resembled blobs of colour rather than any object.

“There’s a reason I’m a writer and not an artist.” She joked, then peered at Steve’s canvas. “Wow.”

He smirked. “There’s a reason I’m an artist and not a writer.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

They all arrived back at the house in high spirits and at dinner talked animatedly about the painting class.

“Your son’s a natural Clyde, that graphic design major is paying off.” Her mum said.

“Could you draw me?” Her dad asked Steve.

Steve smiled and nodded. “Yeah probably.”

 “I’ve always wanted a hand drawn picture of myself.” Her dad said.

Her mum scoffed. “We can hang it up on the wall like Henry the 8th.”

 “I’ll add a crown in too free of charge.” Steve said cheekily, this made her dad chuckle.

He was the exact kind of guy her parents would love for her to bring home. She stopped eating when she realised what she’d thought.

“Don’t encourage him.” Clyde said.

“What’s that supposed to mean dad?” Steve immediately asked.

“That this whole art obsession, is just a phase. I wouldn’t mind if you switched mathematics to your major.”

Steve carried on eating. “No, I like what I’m doing.”

“I was able to accept that you let basketball and football go by the way side and I made peace with the fact that for two years you didn’t bother to apply for college. Then you did go to college and it wasn’t even an ivy league. But if you’re as good at maths as you claim then get a real qualification in it and come work for me after graduation next year.” Clyde implored.

Steve finally looked at his dad. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want to live my life exactly like you, that I’m my own person? Business doesn’t interest me, but graphic design does.”

“I’m done trying to guide you, be a disappointment for all I care.” Clyde said bitterly.

“Clyde, I think that’s enough.” Vivienne snapped, everyone went still usually she wasn’t so assertive with him.

“Look at you putting me in my place.” Clyde mocked taking a swig of his wine.

Vivienne glowered at him, she briefly glanced at the bottle of wine but instead drunk her water.

As if by instinct (Name) gently took Steve’s hand under the table. He didn’t look at her but he squeezed her hand back in thanks.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Later that evening she knocked on his bedroom door.

“Come to tell me to turn my music down?” He joked, but the sadness in his eyes gave him away.

“No, I just wanted to see if you were okay?” She asked.

He waved a hand. “That was a regular Wednesday for my dad.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to-“

“I’m fine, I promise.” He told her softly, she nodded knowing when to pick her battles.

“Did you want to go out Friday night with me and Margo?” She asked.

He nodded and managed a smile. “Yeah actually, I’d love to.”

The way he was casually leaning against the door frame and smiling so easily at her, made her head swim. This was the exact moment she realised.

 “Nice.” She smiled bashfully. “I’ll let you get back to whatever guy thing you were doing.”

She paused aware of how it sounded, he stifled a laugh.

“Not like that obviously! Not that it’s anything to be ashamed of if you do or don’t-“ She stopped and clapped her hands together. “I’m just going to go to bed, goodnight.”

Once she was safely in her bedroom she buried her burning face in her hands. It was possible that Margo was nearly right, at least about her.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Thursday July 13th

When she woke up the next morning the house was eerily quiet. She went to check the patio that was next to the pool and found it to be devoid of life.

“They’ve gone to some wine tasting festival.”

She jumped out of her skin, Steve sat at the outside table eating cereal.

She put a hand to her chest. “You nearly sent me into cardiac fucking arrest.”

He smirked at her. “Need me to grab my defibrillator?”

She playfully rolled her eyes, then remembered their conversation and her own realisation from the night before. She sat in the furthest chair away from him, he looked a little confused but moved past it.

“What should we do?” Steve asked her.

“We?” She asked intrigued.

“If you feel that way, then never mind.” He said pretending to take offense.

She grinned. “What did you have in mind?”

That was how she found herself surfing competitively against Steve, when he got knocked off by a particularly large wave she laughed so hard her stomach hurt. After a while they sat by the shore to rest.

“I’ve missed being here.” He told her.

“This view never gets old.” She agreed.

He pointed to himself. “You mean this view?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She chuckled splashing some water at him, he grinned at her.

“I’m glad we get to hangout like this again, I’ve really missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” She found herself saying.

His face became more serious. “I’m really sorry about what happened 6 years ago, about everything. I’m sorry for ditching you when we were kids and then ignoring you. I was just young and immature, I wanted as dumb as it sounds for other people to see me as one of the guys.”

Her eyes widened hardly believing this conversation was finally happening.

“And having a female friend got in the way of that?”

He shook his head. “No, it was that with you I could share things I couldn’t with anyone else. You made me vulnerable in a way that my dad taught me to be ashamed of, that it was bad if some sort of weakness could be sensed in me. I already struggled in school I didn’t want another reason to not fit in.”

“And unfortunately, our friendship was at the cost of that.” She said quietly.

 “I was the literal worst.” He laughed sadly. “I hope you can forgive me, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

She exhaled heavily. “I won’t deny that I’ve spent the past few years so fucking angry with you, but equally and I guess being older gives you more perspective, we were just kids. You made mistakes, I did too. No one is perfect and I think it’s unfair to go your whole life tying yourself in knots because of some shit you did as a teenager.” She smiled at him. “I’ll say it right now, I forgive you.”

He took her hand in his and threaded his fingers through hers. “You’re too good for me, you always were.”

Her heart sped up as he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles.

 What she was starting to feel for him was so enormous it frightened her, she suspected it was possible he may feel the same. Even though he’d changed and she cared about him so much, she didn’t fully trust that he wouldn’t hurt her again. It was safer to keep her feelings to herself and hope they would return to their platonic nature.

The wind had picked up and the waves were getting bigger some people were starting to swim in. She pulled her hand out of his and reached for her surf board.

“I’m going to try my luck.”

“They’re pretty high are you sure it’s safe?”

 “I’ll be careful, I promise.” She said warmly.

He let her go, clearly knowing it was pointless to try stop her.

The first wave wasn’t too bad and the second was a little tricky, but then came the third. The water was growing choppier by the second, she heard the life guard blow their whistle. She’d ride this one then go back to shore she thought. The wave crashed over her, sucking her into its’ depths, she fought to swim to the surface as she was thrown about underwater.

She came to the surface gasping for air and barely made it to the sand before she was lying on her back exhausted. A small crowd of people gathered around her.

“Miss, are you alright?” The life guard who was barely 16 asked her.

“Sorry excuse me.” A voice said coming through the crowd, Steve appeared at her side. “Hey it’s me.”

He helped her stand, as she tried to walk a stinging pain went through her leg. The crowd cleared for them as they started to walk away.

“Ow.” She hissed.

“What is it?” He fretted.

She panted. “I think I did something to my leg.”

“Are you able to take your wet suit off?”

The idea of having to bend to peel off the clinging material seemed impossible in that moment.

She shook her head.

“Want me to?” He suggested.

She hesitated, this was the last thing she should let him do as it would infiltrate her every waking thought. But she had no other choice.

“Go for it.” She said hoarsely.

He knelt down and start to pull down the wet suit to reveal her bikini, although he’d seen her in one before she’d never felt so exposed in front of him. He helped her step out of the wet suit.

 She peered down, there was a cut just above her knee.

Steve delicately touched the skin just above the cut. “It doesn’t look deep enough to need stiches but it’s gonna need to be cleaned.” He looked up at her.

There was something about seeing him knelt down gazing up at her that made her shiver.

He passed her the wet suit she held it to her chest a little flustered.

“Ready?” Steve said putting his arm around her shoulder.

 She nodded. “Yeah.”

She barely even made it one step. “No this isn’t happening. You’re just going to have to leave me, save yourself.” She gasped out.

“I’ve got an idea, put your arms around my neck.”

She did as he asked. “I’m not sure how this is help-woah.” With total ease he lifted her up into arms and carried her down the beach.

“You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.” She joked.

He let out a tired laugh. “Only you.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Steve set her down on the kitchen counter and searched in the cupboard for the first aid kit.

He bought it over to where she was sat. “You’re lucky my mom’s got like five of these lying around.”

“You know I can do it myself, you’ve done more than enough for one day!”

He left the first aid kit next to her, the cut was at an awkward angle. She tried to lean forward to inspect her leg and nearly went toppling off the counter.  “Ok maybe you can do a little more.” 

He let out a soft huff of amusement.

He poured some disinfectant onto some cotton wood and stood between her legs as he dabbed at the cut, she winced.

“Sorry.” He muttered, then placed a large plaster over the cut. “Done.”

His hands came to rest on the counter either side of her. “How are you feeling?”

He smelt like aftershave and saltwater, it was overwhelming. “Better.” She murmured.

His vision flickered to her lips, if she tilted her head just a little more she’d be kissing him. She leant forward and instead placed a hand on his check quickly kissed it. When she pulled back she noticed a faint blush on his face.

“Thank you for taking care of me I really do appreciate but I think I need to go have a lie down.” She told him, he moved back so she could slide down off the counter top.

He touched where her lips had been. “Yeah see you later.” He said, staring after her.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Friday July 14th

“Mum have you seen my blue dress anywhere?”

“Did you not put it in your laundry basket?” Her mum asked.

“I could’ve sworn I did, maybe I left it in the dryer.” She deduced. “Do you know who dried their clothes after me?”

“I think it was Steve.”

She went to knock on his door but there no answer, she tried again, nothing. She called his name but there was only silence. He was probably somewhere else in the house. She carefully pushed his door and to her delight saw the laundry basket on his bed. That was when she heard the sound of running water being turned off, he was in the god damn bathroom.

“Shit.” She whispered rummaging through his laundry, she had to get out fast.

The bathroom door opened, time almost slow down as she looked over to see him stood there with only a towel hanging dangerously low around his waist.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry.” She screeched looking away.

“Why are you in my room?!” He asked the pitch rising.

She found the blue dress and grabbed it.

She shielded her eyes as she held up the dress. “I came for this but I’ll uh leave you now, sorry again.” She hurried out the room.

Once in the safety of her room she begun to pace the floor as her mind replayed the events of the past week. When they’d met that first morning on the beach, the necklace at the market, the way he’d look at her on the boat, their conversation by the shore when he’d held her hand, how he’d carried in his arms, how he’d glanced to her lips after dressing her injury and now when she’d seen him in a complete near state of undress.

She was nervous of going out that evening, she was afraid to do something she might regret. She’d always considered herself to have a good handle on most situations, but in the face of the inevitable did she have any control?

A couple hours later she’d managed to compose herself and was sat in a taxi on the way to meet Margo at the bar. She’d been unable to look Steve in the eye.

She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t think anyone was in your bedroom.”

 “It’s okay, it wasn’t a big deal.” He told her kindly.

She pat his arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself I didn’t see much but it certainly was a big-“

She saw the mild shock on his face. “Oh you meant the situation.” She let her hands fall into her lap.

Tonight was going to be a challenge.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Anyway, what are Margo’s friends like.” He said changing the subject.

“They’re nice, I think you met them that time at the beach bonfire back when we were 17.”

“I remember that.” He wrinkled his nose. “That’s when Tommy went streaking.”

“If it helps he didn’t have a big deal.” She nervously joked and to her relief after a few seconds he actually laughed.

“So you and Steve? I think I was right.” Margo slyly said whilst they were waiting for their drinks at the bar.

She nodded. “Yeah you were spot on, I like him.”

Margo slapped (Name’s) shoulder. “I fucking knew you liked him!”

“Keep your voice!” She pleaded. “He doesn’t know I have feelings for him and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Why though? He obviously likes you.”

 “I’m going back to New York in two days and he’ll be back in Indiana soon.”

“It doesn’t need to be anything serious. You work your ass off all the time why not have some fun for once?” Margo cackled.

 “It would be a very very bad idea, because I’d want it to be more than just some fling. If we hook up, I’m not getting over that, it’ll really hurt me.”

 “Maybe he doesn’t want to just hook up?”

“He’s a 23 year old guy Margo that’s all they want to do. He’s different now sure, I just don’t think he’s so different that he’d do long distance.”

Margo frowned. “All I’m saying is you’re never going to know what he wants if you’re over here speculating with me, talk to him and go from there.”

She tugged at her hair. “I just don’t know.”

“Talk to him tomorrow but enjoy tonight.” Margo warmly said. “Come on let’s take the shots back to the table.”

When they were back at the table, Steve was immersed in conversation with one of Margo’s friends.

“We come back baring shots!” Margo exclaimed, as they both set the small glasses out on the table.

“Cheers.” She said clinking her glass to Steve’s.

“Cheers.” He replied knocking back the shot.

The shot burnt her throat and warmed her body, she’d already been buzzed before but she knew it’d hit her in a few minutes.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

An hour and 2 more shots later she was past tipsy, so was everyone else.

She stared up at him, swaying slightly.

“What?” He asked amused.

“You’re just so cute.” She admitted, booping his nose.

“Thank you?” He laughed, he was clearly little more sober than her.

She fisted the material of his shirt. “You just don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“How stuck in my head I get about you, it drives me crazy. I wish you knew how much I-“ She stopped talking.

“How much you what?” He asked.

New music started.

“Oh my god I love this song!” She cried grabbing his wrist. “Let’s go dance.”

She started to lead him away. “Did you not wanna finish your sentence?”

She couldn’t recall what she’d said.

“We’ll dance first then you can tell me what it is I have to tell you.” She slurred.

Margo gave her a thumbs up, she gave a thumbs up back not really understanding why.

“Spin me around!” She told him, he chuckled twirling her.

“Now it’s your turn.”

He raised a brow. “What?”

“Less talking more spinning.” She scolded and twirled her 6 foot friend around. “Wasn’t that fun!”

 “Suprisingly, yeah.” He grinned at her. “I’ve really liked hanging out with you this week.”

She beamed. “Me too.”

“I like a lot about you.” He confessed. “I like you in a way that’s different than I feel with other people.”

She didn’t say anything her head was getting dizzy from all the dancing and drink.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” He asked.

Before she could have a chance to respond she could feel herself stumbling over, Steve caught her and she started giggling.

“I’m so sorry I am so drunk right now!” She snorted

He looked at her disappointed. “Let’s get you home.”

He guided her through the dance floor and to where their table was.

“Margo I’m gonna take her home.” Steve said, one arm around her.

“Good plan.” She smiled.

She hugged Margo. “Margo you’re the best, you’re such a good friend.”

Margo patted her on the back. “You’re a great friend too!” She passed her back to Steve. “Safe journey back guys.”

As they left the bar, they ran into a familiar face. It was Tyler.

“Look who it is.” (Name) cheered holding her hand up for him to high five.

Tyler gave her a weak high five and looked to Steve. “Is she-“

“A bit drunk, yes.” Steve replied curtly, the bromance between them was obviously gone.

“Oh wait I just remembered that I don’t like you.” She lightly slapped Tyler’s arm.

As they walked away she called over her shoulder. “Don’t go tricking anyone into truth or dare or I’ll find you!” She sung.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

When they returned home everyone was asleep, he took her up to her bedroom. She sat on her bed swaying her legs, he came back in with a glass water. “Drink all of this okay?”

“Yes mum.” She slurred gulping down the water.

When she was done she gave the glass to Steve, she pat the space on the bed next to her. “Come sit here.”

“Maybe you should get some sleep?” He suggested.

She shook her head. “Later, first sit.”

He took a seat next to her, even in her uninhibited state she could acknowledge how good he looked, his hair was dishevelled and shirt a little open.

She turned to face him. “What made you change so much?” She bluntly asked.

“I finally got a skin care routine-“

“No not that, why are you not in some college fraternity called delta zeta gamma ray.”

 “Sadly Purdue doesn’t have a fraternity with that name.”

She poked him in the chest. “Answer the question!”

He chuckled. “I just like teasing you.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “The reason I changed was because of the friends I made, real friends. Once I graduated high school all of the stuff that was important, just stopped. And I realised that there were people who liked me as I was, not just because I had great hair or was on the basketball team. For the first time since being friends with you I had people on my side.”

“I’m so happy for you. You seriously deserve to have people like that in your life.” Her mouth curved up. “Are you still with that girl?”

“You mean Nancy? God no, we broke up ages ago, we’re good friends now. She actually just got engaged.”

 “Good for her, that’s nice.”

“Engaged to the guy she left me for.”

She grit her teeth. “Less nice.”

He shrugged. “He’s a decent guy and I have to say they make way more sense than me and her ever did.”

 “Wow marriage, I haven’t even had a boyfriend yet.” She huffed.

“Never?”

“No sir.”

He moved a little closer. “Is there anyone at the moment?”

“Sort of, but can you keep a secret?” She hiccupped.

“Yes, yeah I can.”

She beckoned him forward. “Come closer so I can tell you.”

When he was close enough she placed both hands in his face and went to lean in to kiss him, her lips barely grazed his before he was pulling back from her.

The rejection stung her, she got off the bed. “Oh god why did I do that?” She groaned.

He stood up too. “It’s fine really!”

She shut her eyes. “It’s not, that was so incredibly dumb, I shouldn’t have tried to kiss someone who doesn’t want to kiss me.”

“I-I do.” He confessed.

She opened her eyes. “You do?”

His hand came to cup the side of her face.  “It’s not a no, it’s a no right now. I don’t wanna kiss you when you’re drunk.”

There were butterflies in her stomach. “Oh okay.”

His thumb traced her cheek bone. “Tomorrow I’ve gotta help my mum set up for the party but later on why don’t we finally talk, how does that sound?”

She smiled shyly. “Sounds good.”

He pressed a kissed to her forehead. “Get some sleep.”

As soon as he left her bedroom she was fast asleep.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Saturday July 15th

She spent the entire morning with a throbbing head ache curled up in bed. When she’d made herself semi-presentable she left her room to get some lunch. Her memory was blurry and everything after leaving the bar was totally blank.

“Hey.” Steve said coming into the kitchen holding a box of wine glasses.

“Hi.” She replied.

He put down the box and came over to her pressing a kiss to her cheek, she stepped back and touched where he’d been.

“Why did you do that?” She asked perplexed.

 “Do you not remember last night?..”

 “I don’t remember much at all, I can’t remember even getting home.”

His shoulders dropped. “So you don’t know what happened.”

“Wait what happened?!”

Last night began to return to her.

She put a hand over her mouth as it hit her. “I tried to kiss you!”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah you did.”

Then she recalled what he’d said after.

Her eyes widened. “And you wanted to kiss me, but didn’t want to do when I was drunk..”

“And if I did that what do you think that means?” He carefully asked, waiting for her to put the pieces together.

“That you like me.” She breathed.

 “I really like you. And I think that maybe- there’s part of you that feels the same?”

She couldn’t hide from it anymore.

“Steve, I won’t deny that there’s things I’ve felt for you this week that go beyond just friendship but,” She sighed, “I’m going back to New York tomorrow and you’ll be back at college in a few weeks. There’s no point starting anything now.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care about the distance, I want to try.”

“You might not care about the distance at first but eventually it’ll become a problem.”

“No it won’t.”

“But it will!” She insisted. “You’re a young good-looking guy still at college, you don’t want to long distance, you should be hooking up with the cute girl in that one lecture who keeps smiling at you. Trust me I’m saving you the pain.”

His expression hardened. “Don’t tell me what I want. I don’t want some meaningless fling with someone I barely know, I want you.”

“Until the better option comes around.” She blurted out.

 “There is no better option there’s only you!”

 “It’s a bad idea, I’m sorry but-no.”

He looked away from her his jaw clenched.

She put a hand on his arm to try to turn him towards her. “Hey, hey Steve, come on this doesn’t need to be a sad thing, I’m just trying to be practical.” She said gently.

He moved away from her, too angry to even look in her direction.

“Why do you keep doing that?” He snapped. “Why do you keep pulling away from me every time we get the slightest bit close to something happening. You aren’t trying to protect me, you’re trying to protect yourself.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” She exclaimed.

“I know I did bad things but I’m getting really tired of having to prove to you and to everyone just how much I’ve changed.” He finally looked at her, eyes glossy with unshed tears, her chest ached. “What is so fucking wrong with me that people can’t love me?! I’m not a monster, I’m a person.” He said voice cracking.

She felt like someone had sawed through her heart. “I didn’t know you felt that way.” She said trembling.

Tears slipped down his face, he wiped at his eyes. “Well, you wouldn’t would you, no one would.” He inhaled shakily.

He reached into his pocket. “Here.” He said throwing her something.

When she opened her hands, it was none other than the necklace from the market.

She gawped at him “When did you..”

“I was going to give it you tonight, but you may as well have it now.”  He grabbed the box from the counter top and left before she could stop him.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

She sat at her vanity ready for the party. She’d had a lot of time to think about her conversation with Steve and how he had been right about how she felt, she was scared of just how much he could hurt her. But in turn not being together was hurting them both so much more. She delicately touched the pendant of the necklace, her old matching bracelet sat on her wrist. She wanted to sob when she looked at the little golden S.

There was a knock at the door, she hurried to the door in hopes that it was-

“Vivienne hi.” She said.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Vivienne chuckled. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah of course.”

She moved out of the way, then shut her bedroom door. Vivienne perched on the end of her bed and smooth the skirts of her green dress.

“You look gorgeous dear.” Vivienne complimented.

 “Thanks so do you.”

Vivienne crossed her arms and looked at her softly with concern. “We need to talk.”

She sat down next to her apprehensively. “About what?”

“About how insane both you and my son are driving one another, it’s like wuthering heights in here.” Vivienne tutted.

 “How did you figure it out?”

“Mother’s intuition.” She shook her head. “I overheard you both in the kitchen.”

“Oh god you heard all of that?” She groaned.

“You did have quite a heated conversation in the middle of a public space so yes I heard.”

 “Well then I’m sure you know that it’s over before it began.”

“Only if you don’t try sweetie.”

“But that’s what I’m afraid of, what if it doesn’t work out?”

 “When you get to my sage age of 50-48 if anyone asks!” She chuckled. “You learn what love is and what it isn’t, sometimes it’s worth the risk. And this is coming from someone who’s only found it for the first time in her adult life.”

She raised her brows. “But you and Mr Harrington..”

“Are getting a divorce. I split up with him sometime ago.”

“Why doesn’t anyone know?”

“Steve does, I told him as soon as it happened. Both Clyde and I wanted to take our time with publicly announcing it. My party will be the last time we’re ‘together’.” She did air quote marks with her fingers.

“Wow.” She said. “Good for you.”

Vivienne put an arm around her.  “It’s wonderful but I can’t be happy until I know that you kids are. What you both have is real and maybe it isn’t going to be easy or it might not last but you both deserve the chance to experience it.”

“I’ve probably ruined any chance of ever having it.” She admitted sadly.

Vivienne gave her a sly grin. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, talk to him I think you’ll be surprised.”

She smiled back weakly. “I’ll try.”

“No more moping.” Vivienne sprung up. “We’ve got a party to enjoy!” She held out her hand pulling (Name) to her feet.

“Who’s this person you’re in love with then?” She asked.

“His name’s Pierre, he’s a French photographer, incredibly cliché I know but he’s a good man, he makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.” Vivienne told her.

She linked her arm through hers. “You deserve to be happy.”

Vivienne squeezed her arm. “So do you sweetie.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The party was in full swing and she still hadn’t seen Steve, she however had run into Margo and Tyler who had come with their parents.

“Hey guys.” She said approaching them.

“Hey.” Margo replied hugging her whilst Tyler politely smiled.

“Tyler sorry about last night.” She apologised.

Margo snorted. “He told me.”

Tyler huffed. “I probably deserved it, I should be the one apologising to you.”

Tyler paused Margo elbowed him. “You actually have to say it.”

Tyler rolled her eyes and sighed. “(Name) I’m very sorry for being-“ He looked to his sister. “An annoying dick head with shitty hair.”

Margo burst out laughing.

“Did you tell him to say that?” She asked amused.

Tyler nodded grimly. “Yes she did.”

“Apology accepted.” She told Tyler, who finally deflated with relief.

“You guys haven’t seen Steve anywhere have you?” She asked.

“Why do you wanna know? Gonna pick up where you left off at the bar last night.” Margo suggestively said.

“It’s actually about what happened after the bar I need to talk to him, we got in a fight this morning.”

“I think I saw him go the beach.” Tyler said.

She frowned. “The beach?”

Tyler shrugged. “No idea why.”

“I’m going to go speak to him.” She said going to leave.

“Goodluck!” Margo called.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

When she was at the beach she saw Steve in the distance smoking alone by the shore, she could just about make him out.

“Steve!” She shouted from down the beach, he immediately looked in her direction.

She started walking but found the gorgeous heels she had chosen kept sinking into the sand.

“Jesus christ.” She hissed and quickly removed the heels letting them dangle from her wrist.

She picked up the skirt of her dress and ran to where he was.

He stubbed out his cigarette when he saw her. “(Name)?”

She stopped running and smiled at him. “Hi.”

He opened his mouth to talk but she stopped him. “Before you say anything I just need to get a few things straightened out.”

He nodded. “Yeah, go for it.”

“It’s my turn to apologise to you. I don’t know where you’re getting this notion from that you’re some unlovable monster because I know for a fact there are people in this life who like you exactly as you are, I should know since I’m one of them. You’re kind and funny and literally one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.” His face softened as she spoke. “And I’m so god damn sorry that it’s taking until,” She locked down at her watch and laughed, “14 hours before my flight to tell you that I’m so unbelievably, stupidly, in love with you.” Her chest heaved up and down, a little breathless from the amount she’d just said.

He just blinked at her, dazed.

“This is usually when the other person says something.” She nervously said.

He walked towards her, and was so close that the shoes on her wrist tapped against him. He took them off her wrist and they fell to the floor. He cupped her face and softly pressed his lips to hers. She sighed as his lips moved deliciously against hers. After a few seconds he stopped kissing her.

Her lips tingled from where he’d kissed her. “Yeah, that’s a good answer.” She stammered.

He smiled down at her softly. “I love you too, so much.”

“You were right by the way I was afraid-still am afraid of letting myself get swept up in this.” She gestured between both of them. “It's worth all of the risk.”

“I have a feeling that this might last.” He said warmly.

“I do too.” She smiled at him. “I’m sorry about your parents getting a divorce, by the way. Your mum told me.”

“Don’t be, I’ve never seen her this alive, she doesn’t drink anymore and she’s with someone that actually respects her.”

She shook her head fondly. “Only your mother would end up with a French photographer. Do you like him?”

He nodded. “Yeah I do." He nodded. "As much as I like talking Pierre I’d rather go back to talking about us!”

She raised a brow. “So we’re an us now are we?”

“You’re the one who ran down the beach to confess your love to me.” He scoffed.

“And you’re the one who got my favourite heels sandy.” She jokingly scolded. “Why did you just throw them on the ground.”

He sighed. “Yeah, it felt like sexy at the time, sorry.”

She grinned. “I’m just teasing it was sexy, although you will be buying me a new pair.”

He chuckled. “Shut up.” His eyes dipped down to her neck and he picked up the necklace.

“It’s lovely thank you.” She told him then held up her wrist with the bracelet. “And thank you for this as well.”

He began to laugh she furrowed her brow. “You don’t have to laugh.” She huffed.

“No I’m not I’m not, it’s just funny cause-” He rolled back his sleeve to show his own bracelet.

Her mouth fell open. “I thought you got rid of it.”

He touched it tenderly. “I’d never throw this away.”

She leant up and gave him a chaste kiss.

“Do you wanna go back to the party?” She asked.

“Sure.” He agreed, she held out her hand and he smiled taking it.

“My mouth kind of tastes like smoke now.” She said as they walked down the beach.

“So does mine.”

“You were the one smoking.”

“I could stop but I think you find it too hot.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I also find you quitting even hotter.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Anything for you.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Sunday July 16th

2 am

 “There’s something I wanted to ask you.” She said, they were in his bed she was nestled against him, head resting on his bare chest.

He stroked her hair. “Ask away.”

She shifted so her chin was resting on her arm. “When we went back to school that summer after we were 14, I called your house and your dad picked up, I told him to get you to call me. He never passed that message onto you did he?”

 “I didn’t even know you called, so yeah no he didn’t.” He gently caressed her face with his hand. “I would’ve if he’d told me.”

 “I knew you would’ve.”

“I wish I’d made things right with you sooner.” His chest rose and fell in a deep breath, as if letting go of something heavy.

She kissed his jaw. “Let’s just focus on now.”

They looked at each other softly and he smiled at her. “Do you find it crazy that we literally just slept together.”

 “Yeah but in a good way, like this is so amazing there’s no way it can be actually happening.” She laughed.

He laughed too. “Oh it’s happening.”

She gave him a saucy look. “If you come visit me in New York it’ll be happening all the time.”

“You’re such a flirt, I’d almost think you have a crush on me.” He wryly said.

"You know what." She pretended to gasp. “I think I do have a crush on you.”

“No I think you love me.” He teased.

“You’re done.” She sung and put a hand over his mouth.

He said it again but this time it was muffled, she took away her hand.

“I really do love you.” She said genuinely.

“I love you too.” He said softly.

 2 years later: July 16th 1992

“Is this everything?” She asked, as they stood in their new apartment, boxes taking up every inch of space.

“Why, do you have another 10 boxes of clothing?” He teased.

 “I’m sorry that I like to look cute.” She nudged him. “When did you say your friends are coming to stay by the way?”

“The 30th.”

“You excited?”

“Yeah I can’t wait!”

“It’s going to be a lot of fun, I really liked them the first time we met.”

“They loved you, maybe even more than me.” He grinned.

“The only person that loves you more than me are my parents.” She laughed.

Her parents had been over the moon when she’d told them about her and Steve, immediately asking when the wedding would be. Vivienne was delighted but she’d known from the start they’d end up together. As for Clyde, whilst things were still rocky he had actually started to call Steve more and try fix what was broken between them. At Steve’s college graduation she’d thought she’d even nearly seen him cry with pride, when his son has walked across the stage to get his diploma.

He walked towards the window she joined him, the view of New York staring back at them.

“I’m thinking that this would be a great spot for you to do your writing.” He suggested.

 “Oo so true, although I worry the view might distract me, I only just got my own column at work I don’t want to screw it up just yet.”

 “You could never.”

“How’re you feeling about your first day tomorrow?”

“Like I’m going to screw it up.” He huffed.

 “You’ll be fine!”

“God I’m lucky I have you.” He said resting his head on top of hers.

She put her head on his shoulder. “I’ll never stop thinking how lucky we both are to finally have each other.”

PART 2

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

.

[mortalityplays]

You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

[upsidedownmvnson]

tell me you love me | steve harrington

warnings: fluff (warning lol) friends to lovers, idiots to lovers,

a/n: i actually really loved this <3 i hope you do too

tell me you love me vol 2

Steve Harrington had already tried twice in his life to confess his love for you.

The first time, you two were in the tenth grade and you had just accepted stupid Jack Warren's invitation to prom, so Steve didn't bother. That was back when he was settling into popularity anyway, so he got over it pretty quickly. He was dating Cathy Bartlett the next week.

The second time, Robin had made him pinky promise not to date you. She had held him down, sat on his back and twisted his arm until he pinky swore that he wouldn't do anything to destroy the delicate ecosystem of the friend group. There was already one awkward ex-situation in there.

But Robin was right, you were not like the girls he normally dated. If things went wrong he wouldn't be able to just sweep it under the rug, it could have painful ramifications for all his friends. Although... he didn't actually think it would go that bad. Steve would find his mind wandering on the idea often. He pictured the two of you in the kitchen, side by side cooking dinner and talking about your day. When he thought of you, it felt like home. It felt like somewhere he could build a house and live forever.

If he could only get the words out, he'd realize how quickly you'd accept him. He'd realize he wasn't the only one of you that was stupid in love.

You had been in love with Steve since you could remember. But never once thought he'd shared your interest, not with all the girls around him all the time. The way he shines in their attention and basks in their praise, it's enough to make you sure he's happy with how it is. Or he probably wouldn't have told you all about his date with Debbie Dabbenthorn, right?

Tonight, you, Nancy and Robin were at a party. Something Steve desperately tried to make not happen. But he was working, so there was no one to stop you girls from coaxing each other into drink after drink, which you always did. The three of you always drank too much, and Steve always got stuck trying to coral you and Robin into his car.

At the party, Nancy was handing you another red cup filled to the brim, sloshing over the side and coating your fingers. You hadn't noticed.

"I love when we ditch the boys," Nancy said, smiling as she sipped out of her own solo cup. "It's so fun!"

"Same," Robin said, slinging her arm around Nancy's shoulers, making the two of them sway and laugh. They caught their balance and cheered drinks. "Hey, help me find the bathroom!"

It wasn't hard to find, but it was hard for all three of you to get there without knocking into each other, but it didn't matter. The three of you giggled the whole way, laughing too hard over barely anything. Enjoying the simple joy of being with your friends on a party.

The line for the bathroom was short, only a few people deep. Nancy was grilling Robin on her love life while Robin evaded every question with a vague answer, soon, she turned it onto you, focusing Nancy on the other singler girl in the group.

"Do you not think anyone is cute at least?" Nancy said, not quite believing you when you say you didn't have a crush on anyone at the moment. You shrugged, trying to avoid admitting that it was her ex boyfriend that really turned your head. Robin chuckled, and slid into the bathroom.

You started sipping your drink when Nancy asked, "Not even Steve?" and you nearly choked, but you coughed once and composed yourself. You stared at her, confused as to why she would bring him up.

"You don't have to say anything," she said, and you looked into your cup, noting that you'd need a replacement after this trip. "But it would be okay with me."

Robin opened the bathroom door again, reassembling the trio be throwing her arms around both of your shoulders. "New drinks!" she cheered, steering you all in the direction of the kitchen.

"Drink up," Nancy giggled, "and then let's dance!"

So that's what you did, you guys drank and danced and had a great time. Until Jonathan came to pick up Nancy. That's when you saw that it was after nine, so Steve should've been on the way to come collect you and Robin from your drunken outing. You told Robin again how nice it was for Steve to come get you.

"But c'mon, you love him right?" Robin asked, laughing at your shock.

"I do not love him," you argued, but you did. Robin shrugged, but didn't look convinced. "He just is beautiful, that's all."

"Nah," she said, brushing off the idea with a wave of her hand. "You just love him."

"Do not," you mumbled. But Robin already leaned the other way when Vicki walked up to talk to her. You leaned further into the couch, the ugly thing was very comfortable. Steve should be there any minute.

"Hey," Robin whispered, "Vicki invited me to go with her friends to the lake... Are you gunna be okay here? You're not too drunk are you? Because if you think you can't stay awake, I'll stay of course..."

"Robin, go! I'll be fine for like two minutes..." you slurred, you were pretty drunk but Steve really was going to be there any second.

"Okay!" she didn't have to be told twice before she was scrambling after Vicki in her love-drunk haze. Or maybe just regular drunk, but Robin was feeling giddy anyway.

Steve was running behind because he lost the address that Robin had given him. She'd just ripped off a corner of a piece of paper, and Steve had lost it at some point in his shift. When he finally found the place he was thirty minutes behind.

When he got inside you were curled up on the couch alone, snoozing while some couple made out next to you in the spot Robin had vacated. He smiled when he saw you, and took a knee next to you, trying to wake you up nicely. He stroked your cheek, and tucked some hair behind ear, making you stir softly in your slumber.

"Time to get up," Steve said, "Where's Robin?"

"Went with Vicki," you whispered, rubbing your eyes, smudging whatever makeup wasn't already ruined from the dancing.

"Well, how mean of her to leave you here all alone," he said, running his thumb along your cheek again. "Can't trust you guys alone now though, she did leave you to fall asleep at a house party. That's like really bad, I'm mad at her."

You made a soft noise in response, his stern voice was, not so stern. He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but notice how beautiful he was. Leaning close to you, rubbing your cheek, hair falling perfectly on his forehead and you just wanted to reach up and brush it away like he did. But your hands were wedged under your head, and you were afraid that if you stirred even an inch, he would leave, and this moment would be over.

"Guess you'll just have to make sure you come with us next time," you whispered, eyes bloodshot and glossy from all the alcohol. He thought you were the most beautiful girl in the room. The party was still raging around him, and he easily could've found a place within the girls, but he was content in this moment with you. Your eyes started feeling heavy, and you couldn't stop them from constantly fluttering shut.

“C'mon let me help you up babe,” Steve said, aiding your drunk figure. The nickname made your stomach flip. You were dead weight, giggling as he took care of you and grabbed your things and still found the patience to be kind to you, musing like he was interested in all your drunk babble.

“You're just so pretty, Stevie, it's stupid,” you cooed, finding a place beside him with his arms around you for balance as he lead you, slowly, to his car.

"D-Don't say that stuff," Steve said, voice cracking at the beginning. You were drunk, and it was dark, but you still noticed the blush on Steve's cheeks, and you smiled.

He opened the door for you, and you commented, "so romantic," while holding your hand over your heart, and Steve's heart raced. He went around the trunk of his car to get another second of fresh air, if you saw him in the light you were sure to see the heat he felt in his neck and cheeks. You were flirting with him, and he couldn't contain his excitement every time you complimented him, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes.

The entire trip was like that. From the moment he was in the car you were just a loose cannon of compliments and praises. This combination of him sober and you drunk has never happened while alone before. Were you this flirty with him when he was drunk too?

The answer was yes. The real reason Nancy knew you really wanted Steve was because whenever you two are drunk and together you look like you're in love... because you are. Holding hands, head on shoulder, legs across laps, big bright smiles that made everyone think you were truly, madly, deeply in love. Everything that's just a little too friendly, but never crossing that silly little line that kept you both under the umbrella of just friends.

You were a delight in his passenger seat. He only wished you spoke like this when you were sober, because then maybe he'd know for sure you love him too.

"Hey Steve?" you asked, voice coming out as almost a purr in your sleepy state. Steve's heart melted. "Can I hold your hand?"

"Yeah," he answered, clearing his throat and moving his hand over to your lap, intertwining your fingers. Your hands were cold to the touch, but all you felt was the comforting warmth of him. You were both smiling, goofy grins to match the butterflies in your stomach. "You can hold my hand whenever you like."

You made another happy hum, but said nothing else. The ride was short. No words exchanged, just the quiet songs on the radio, turned low to let you drift off in the passenger seat.

When you got to his house, he parked the car, looking at you. He didn't want to wake you. And he didn't want to let go of your hand. Maybe he should just stay in the car all night.

Of course he didn't do that. Steve weaseled his way out of your grip, not bothering to hide how pleased he was that you whined at the loss of his touch. he helped you out of the car, encouraging you to climb on his back for "an express ride to the VIP bathroom," and he delivered, carrying you, all dead weight and giggling, to the bathroom where he left you to clean up. You put on the clothes he delivered, Plaid pajama pants and a big grey shirt. Well, you put the shirt on, the pajama pants were thrown into the tub, because you couldn't be forced to wear pants.

"Steeeeeve," you slurred, leaving the bathroom, giggling and bumping into the doorframe.

Steve was standing in the doorway to his room, wearing only blue plaid pj pants. His torso on glorious display, while he stood frozen at the sight of you. You stretched your arms over your head, and the shirt rose, exposing your panties to him. He nearly choked looking at you.

"Can I sleep in your room?" you asked, smiling at the effect you had on him. "Look how cute I am," you said, turning around and lifting the shirt while bending over slightly, giving him a perfect view of your ass, with the panties laying deliciously over your cheeks.

"Jesus," he muttered, unable to look away but trying to force himself to. He shouldn't be sneaking a peak while you were this drunk, but in his defence you were the one showing him. "Come to bed, just put your shirt down."

"It's your shirt," you teased, obeying him anyway. You danced behind him into the room, and crawled into bed. It smelled so good, it smelled like him. You could've stayed by Steve's side under these blankets forever.

You lay facing Steve, in his overly big, overly comfortable bed, too tired and drunk to keep your eyes open, but you still try. Steve smiles at your determination to stay awake, he watches your eyes blink quickly, trying to shake the sleep away.

You want to reach over and intertwine your hands, you don’t. He wants to reach out and brush the hair off your forehead and behind your ear, he doesn’t.

“Are we in love, Steve?”

The sharpness of your question cuts him, wounding him in a way he didn’t know was possible. He wanted to speak, but there were no words. No charismatic come back, and no way to avoid the lingering question in the air. Steve holds his tears back. He really did love you.

When your eyes peak open, he’s nodding. His eyes filled with tears that he refuses to let you see, but you see. "Yeah, I think so."

“Why is it so sad?”

“Because we're best friends," he said, "and I can't lose you."

"Tell me you love me," you whispered, silly mood replaced with a tight feeling in your throat, like you were going to cry. But you held it back.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too."

He wanted to cry. He wanted to kiss you. But instead, he just sighed, and found your hand under the sheets, and held it tightly. He was frozen. This was his dream come true, so why did it feel like a nightmare? Like you were right there, but he couldn't have you. Like he was doomed to stay in love with you, and never actually get to be with you.

“I will still love you in the morning whether I say it or not, Stevie.” Your eyes finally started winning the battle, and they stayed closed more than they stayed open, too heavy too fight.

"I know babe," he said, watching as you breathing changed and your eyes didn't open again. "I will too."

[mockerycrow]

Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

[amsznn]

can you do a story about how chris and the reader meet at tara’s party but before that, reader accidentally revealed that she found chris cute and the she went viral for it (idk if that makes sense)

SOCIAL MEDIA FRENZY - c. sturniolo

2 days ago..

“chat are we enjoying this haul? don’t flame my style in the comment section.” you warned to your viewers on instagram live before grabbing the next package of clothes off the floor, ready to show your 14k viewers the next batch of items. “next youtube video when?” you read off from a comment.

“this was going to be a youtube haul, but i got lazy so..new video this week!”

your rise as an influencer had to be studied. from a random youtube vlog that you made out of the want to romanticize your life a bit and a rant on tiktok people found funny that gained 2.5 million likes caused you to not only receive near to 3 million subscribers on youtube but almost 1.9 million on tiktok.

this was only in the span of 2 years. growing and working to not only please your new fans but to also have fun for yourself as you still decided to go to college for that degree.

social media was just a hobby for you like a lot of people say. but you truly couldn’t expect the new wave of attention you would revolve for a simple comment you made.

the next item of your haul was a fitted cap that you saw at a pop up shop in your city. you recognized it from somewhere else and decided to buy it since it was also cute.

“guys this cap i actually bought because this youtuber, chris sturniolo also wears it in his videos.” at the mention of the social media star your comments flooded. “guys calm down, im not crazy, he’s just cute okay?” you laughed before setting the cap down then moving to the next piece of clothing.

soon enough you ended the live and went on with your day as normal. filming a bit of your vlog for your new video, answering emails from brands, doing some household chores and of course, settling down in your bed with some snacks for your nightly tiktok scrolling.

as soon as you opened the app you got bombarded with a screen recording of your live with the bit where you said chris was cute. it was all over. even on twitter you began trending for the potential new relationship between you and the social media star.

all you could do is read the comments, some encouraging and some hateful, watch edits of you two being shipped, and quickly text your manager profusely apologizing for the mess you just made.

you groaned while rolling around in your bed. sometimes you just forgot you were too well known to be spewing whatever nonsense came to mind.

which brings us here.

at taras party.

since she was inviting influential people, and her friends, you were a definite invite on her list. and you knew either all of one of the triplets would be there too.

you were nervous to bump into chris. would he even speak to you? and if he did would he be uncomfortable or understanding? well you were about to find out in a moment since he was walking in your general direction.

you mustered up all the courage you could and began to walk towards him. feeling the need to apologize to him since the situation was your fault and it must be annoying for him as well.

you came to a stop as he turned his body to fully face you. your breath hitched for moment taking his appearance all in. his black hoodie and black baggie jeans with his messy hair was a lot to take in in person.

either way you were gonna say what you needed to say. “hey, my names y/n. you might know me. or not thats fine too!” you stumble across your words for a minute before taking a deep breath. you could feel his eyes on you but you remembered hes just a person too.

“you may have seen the plenty of edits and a lot of my supporters in your comment sections or dms, and i just wanted to say im sorry since its been going for three days now and you must be annoyed.” you said it all in one breath and finally met the boys eyes. instead of confusion you were met with a look of amusement.

“oh you’re completely fine. honestly i felt bad for you since you were getting a lot of hate for a simple comment.” chris shrugged while giving you his signature smile. you smiled as well glad that he seemed fine with the recent uproar.

“ive heard worse.” chris said while grimacing at the thought which caused you to laugh nodding in agreement. the night went on with you and chris sticking together for the majority of the party. introducing one another to friends, chris introducing you to nick (your new best friend) and overall having a great time. before you left chris made sure to get your number and texted you to make sure you arrived home safely.

you couldnt help the smile that was spreading on your face as you recall the events of the night. maybe making that comment wasnt so bad after all.

walking towards your room of your apartment, you plopped down onto your bed and decided to make a quick instagram post for the night.

and guess who liked the post?

a/n: i hope yall enjoy this cus i sure did (i was so close to making this into a smut 😭)

[highvern]

Patterns II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, hand job, dry humping, oral (face sitting), lots of teasing/minor degradation if you squint, overstimulation, breath play

Length: ~9.9k

Note: part 2 is here, let's goooooo! thanks for being so patient and thank you @millennial-fangirl and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing!

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Avoiding Wonwoo post D-Day, as Amina calls it, proves to be surprisingly easy. An entire week of back to back meetings leaves you blocking off parts of your calendar just to use the bathroom. And according to the grapevine, there’s been zero proof of life from Wonwoo’s end either which has caused Mingyu to break out in hives. 

But as the weekend draws closer you’re given the greatest gift the universe can bestow.

“Monday is a disconnect day for the client which means all of us are on black out. No emails, no phone calls, nothing.” Mona announces in the team huddle.

Tears of joy bead in your eyes at the news. However, it's short lived.

“We’ll need to hit the ground running when we come back so make sure everything is done Friday. Even if you have to stay late. Understand?” 

Your laptop pings with a message in the corner.

Gerard: how does she make free PTO sound like hell?

Y/N: i think she said it was her special talent when we did ice breakers at the beginning of the project

Gerard: oh yeah right after she said she hates puppies

Y/N: and joy

Mona slaps her own computer shut, sending you ten feet in the air before continuing, “If there isn’t anything else. We can wrap this up. Shoot me a message if there are any questions.” 

“And how will you be spending your new found free time?” You ask.

Gerard holds the door open as you walk past, “The way the universe intends. In bed, sleeping. Maybe I’ll finally unpack my suitcase from the last trip Mona dragged me on.”

“Wasn’t that like, a month ago?” You ask.

“And?”

The rest of the day is a blur, rushing from meeting to meeting with barely enough time to breathe. It’s only the end of the day that grants you the next glimpse at the world outside the dreary office walls. Albeit through the bright screen of your cell phone.

Once back at your desk, you unlock your phone to find several unread messages. Several from Amina document her jealousy that you and Lisa have long weekends. Lisa offers to kick Mingyu off the long planned trip to the adorable bed and breakfast she found for their anniversary. 

Amina 🍑💗: FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF CORPORATE AMERICA

Y/N: Your honor free her!!!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: Girls trip! Girls trip! Girls trip!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: mingyu will understand 

Y/N: I am begging you to go have gross emotional sex somewhere other than our apartment

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: we’ve done it plenty of places that arent the apartment :) 

Y/N: whore

But a separate thread unleashes a coldsnap in your veins.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): forgot to give these back…

Attached is a photo. A familiar swatch of cotton contrasting with the rich navy of his blanket in the background. His long fingers grip the hem, involuntarily jolting memories of them curled around your body.

Upon realizing you’re sitting out in the open staring at a picture of your panties, you hastily lock your phone and shove it into the deep recesses of your purse. Thank the stars no one else was around to glimpse the crude picture or the sudden sweat along your brow. How dare Wonwoo’s first attempt at speaking to you post hook up be a picture of your underwear in the middle of the work day. Who did he think he was?

Overcoming the initial embarrassment that floods your system, you decide to ignore his bid for attention. If you ignored him then he wouldn’t know the power he held. Plain and simple.

—

The next few days fly past without incident. Wonwoo remains silent and allows you to fall back into forgetting his existence.

As Friday hurdles forward, the usual shenanigans of bar hopping is replaced by plans for a movie night. You aren’t the only one suffering from sleep deprivation; Amina’s job ran her into the ground, and same with Lisa’s. 

The idea fills you with dread, spurred by yearning to spend every moment of free time to catch up on sleep. But knowing your friends, the probability of successfully ditching is on the negative side of zero, especially since you’ve barely spoken to one another all week and they’d both be out of town for the weekend.

The atmosphere of the office is sullen. Late Friday afternoons are reserved for pretending to work and gossiping. Unless you work for your team. In which case, you’ve spent the past hour agonizing over different powerpoint transitions and if they convey professionalism yet approachable.

A throat clearing behind you breaks your trace.

“Okay, I need to go home.” 

Looking up from your laptop, an aura of visible graveness radiates from Gerard. His theater minor really came in handy.

“Why?” You ask skeptically. 

Gerard was nice. But he wasn’t that nice.

“Because I’m already going to be stuck here all night.” He sighs. “And there’s no point in both of us suffering. You have the report ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a new powerpoint and get it finalized.”

“Then let me handle it. Mona wants me to re-do the other report you need for the deck so I’ll make it when I’m done.”

Hands moving of their own volition, you shove your scattered belongings into your purse. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He groans. “If I need something I’ll call. Now go. Be free.”

He shoos you without another word, diving into his own computer. Before Gerard can change his mind you’re in the elevator and own your way home.

Thirty minutes later, you find Amina and Lisa already in the midst of a full apartment clean up. A 2000s playlist blasts from the speaker on the counter while Amina shoots daggers at the furniture in the living room.

“Do you think we should move the couch?” Amina shouts at your entrance.

Her lips move but you can’t hear anything over the blasting noise. “Huh?” 

“The couch!” She repeats after cutting off the sound.

You nod before realizing you're still in work clothes. Rushing to your room, you quickly change into something more presentable.

When you return, Lisa is in the kitchen putting away dishes. You and Amina descend on the living room, heads bobbing in sync to the music while you work. Under combined efforts, the space shifts from wild disarray to sparkling clean in no time. 

Moving in sync, you both work to tetter the furniture into different arrangements. It takes four attempts before she throws her hands up, accepting defeat and moving to the counter to join Lisa. You fail to silence a half hearted cheer before flopping down onto the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Who said they were coming again?” Amina asks, her head resting on her arms crossed in front of her on top of the cool marble.

“Mingyu, Soonyoung, Eva,” Lisa pauses as she scrolls through her texts to find confirmation. “Wonwoo.” 

Both Amina and Lisa snap their necks to pointedly look at you.

Much to your own disappointment, your cheeks heat. Avoiding the scrutinous gazes of your roommates, you roll off the couch and busy yourself with replacing the pillows and blankets Amina tossed aside earlier.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Amina questions, walking over to reorganize the coffee table, sweeping their trinkets and books away for the drinks and food that would soon be spread atop it.

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t texted you or you haven’t responded?” Amina’s eyebrows furrow, as if Wonwoo’s silence is the most confusing thing between you two.

“He hasn’t texted.” You lie, pulling at a frayed thread at the corner of the pillow.

Lisa joins the effort, folding blankets and organizing them in piles. “Well that’s lame.”

“I’m sorry? Weren't you the one who threatened to kill him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “So? A girl can’t be dramatic?” 

“There’s dramatic and then there’s you.” Amina chimes.

“Whatever.” Lisa scoffs before looking at you. “Wonwoo’s cool but if he ghosted you then he’s a loser.” 

You shrug before responding, “It was just a one time thing. It’s not like I was reaching out to him either.”

“I thought you said he was good?” Amina asks with round eyes.

“He was but it was just a one time thing. Let’s not make it weird, okay?” You wait until they both nod before continuing. “What time is everyone coming?” 

“Around seven, I think?” Lisa throws the question to Amina.

“Yeah, seven.” Amina answers, eyeing the furniture again. 

Glancing at your phone you spot the time, 4:46PM. Perfect. 

“I’m gonna shower and take a nap,” You call, heading down the hall.

Once in the bathroom, you undress as the water warms to a tolerable temperature. Finding it suitable, you make to enter but the dig of your phone distracts you. The screen illuminates and you spot a familiar name.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I was planning on coming with mingyu tonight but if you don’t want me to I'll hang back

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

Strange as it may be, you're oddly endeared by his consideration. But his last messages sit on the screen just above and cut the warmth short.

Y/N: and yet there’s a picture of you holding my panties that says the opposite

Y/N: im not spooked so easily

Locking your phone, you jump in the shower. The hot water lulls away the anticipation flooring through your veins. It didn’t have to be weird. Tonight would prove it.

The short nap leaves you disoriented but the laughter of friends draws you out from the covers. Bravely, you change out of pajamas into more presentable pajamas consisting of sweats and a sweatshirt. Once settled, you slide into the hall and meet company. 

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, you scan the group. Eva and Soonyoung sit across the counter, both of them smiling your way. Amina is fussing about, attempting to organize the drinks spread across the counter into some kind or order. An expensive bottle of liquor Mingyu no doubt supplied sits in the middle like a prize, however he’s nowhere to be seen along with his roommate and girlfriend. You try to assist Amina but the space between the island counter and the stove is barely large enough for one body, let alone two. Amina shoos you away after barely a minute.

A trio of voices echo down the hallway.

“Every project he doesn’t want to do just gets thrown on me.” A deep voice complains. “I don’t even know what his actual job is.” 

The timber sends electricity down your spine. You try not to stare as Wonwoo steps into the light of the kitchen trailing behind Lisa. Apparently Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Lisa were tasked with food duty; however, Lisa's hands are completely empty. A stark contrast to Wonwoo and Mingyu behind her balancing several stacked boxes between them. 

You exchange a brief friendly smile with Wonwoo, before he continues with Mingyu. Shoulders sagging, your relief is only momentary. The weight of your friends watching the interaction is unbearable, despite everyone being wrapped in their own conversations. Lisa and Amina argue over the best order to organize everything while Mingyu sets about actually arranging the boxes. Soonyoung and Eva exchange gossip at the counter, their own laughter slicing through the air above them.

Pouring yourself a drink, you snatch the pitcher next to Eva, no doubt containing one of her deadly concoctions. Filling the glass halfway, you take a sip. Fruit and spicy sweetness tingling on your tongue followed by the warmth of cinnamon. The slight burn is masked with a deceptive tang of citrus. It goes down much too easily for the amount of alcohol Eva includes in her drinks. You estimate it’ll take two servings before you’re asleep against the arm of the sofa. Empting the glass, you pour another helping and cast off from the counter. 

Heading into the living room, you beeline for a spot on the sofa before anyone can object. Despite Amina’s attempts earlier, a few people would have to take to the floor and you refuse to be one of them.

“Alright everyone, come eat.” Amina calls in the small space.

You forgo the pizza for now. There would be plenty after everyone settled. Wrapping in one of the large fleece blankets, you burrow down into the sofa. Bending your knees, your legs cross while you lean back into the seam between the plush cushion and armrest, head perfectly positioned to see the television. 

Your cup empties before anyone comes to join you. Lisa and Mingyu squash into the recliner on the other side of the living room, the shabby chair groaning any time their weight shifts. You hope it's enough of a deterrent for their determined wandering hands. Many movie nights had been ruined because of their less than family friendly activities. Amina settles in front of the coffee table amongst the pile of cushions and thick blankets. Eva and Soonyoung curl up on the loveseat against the wall.

Wonwoo crashes down into the space next to you, sending a tight lipped smile at your responding frown. His legs spread apart as he leans forward to eat. Your shin brushes against his thigh through the blanket but fatigue prevents any sort of reaction beyond registering the presence of his body. 

Someone knocks out the lights and your eyes cement shut. The horror movie Lisa chose begins, lights from the screen dancing across your eyelids. It's a shallow rest at best, allowing you to catch snippets of dialogue from the characters and muffled whispers from your friends. But it’s like being underwater, senses dull as you experience it all from far far away.

You even forget about Wonwoo until he leans back into the cushions. The contact from his thigh breaking when he props his legs on the coffee table. A particularly loud scream comes from the TV but it's Wonwoo’s voice that startles you.

“Mind sharing?” He whispers, asking for permission despite already lifting the corner of the blanket draped over your knee.

You shake your head, nuzzling further into the armrest and away from temptation.

Wonwoo untucks the fold of the blanket from under your legs, stretching it across his lap. The heat of his side radiates into you even more. Even in your lethargic state the hyper awareness refuses to fade. It stokes a part of you wishing to move onto his lap and work you both back into the blissful high of a few nights ago. But you refuse to acknowledge the craving to dive into him, press your face into the front of his sweater and allow the beat of his heart to lull you into a rest.

You're fully aware all you need to do to get the first thing is let him give it to you. You were the one who ran away, shunned his attempts for a repeat, ignored him. Wonwoo provided several opportunities for a repeat of Friday night, now it was up to you to accept his invitation. 

But try as you might not to care, the dread of what your friends will think rears its head. It's a cop out; no one really cares that it's Wonwoo, only happy you’re finally getting laid again. 

You need to act before your nerve fades but in a room packed full of watchful eyes you’re unsure how to proceed. Feigning a yawn, your eyes pry open to lazily scan the room. Soonyoung has Eva between his legs, her back resting against his chest.. From where you are sitting it's evident they both have their eyes glued to the screen, Eva takes movie night too seriously to allow any funny business. Amina slouched down enough you can no longer see the top of her curly hair. Cautiously swiping at Lisa and Mingyu, it takes only a second before you look away. Thankfully Eva insists on blasting the TV volume to a deafening decibel. 

The movement of Wonwoo’s chest, lulled by the shallow rises and falls, clarifies in the fliting light of the screen. More memories of flushed skin shuddering with ragged breaths come to the forefront. Following the curve of his throat to the arch of his jaw, you find Wonwoo already staring back from the corner of his eye.

He arches an eyebrow, challenging and curious. It demolishes whatever resolve you possess to not look away. Instead, you focus back on the movie while untangling your legs and resting them on the coffee table next to his, ankles crossing under the blanket. The sudden motion leaves the entire span of your right leg flush with his left, a comforting warmth spreading between the layers of thick fabric between.. 

In the haste, the top of the blanket falls down to your lap. You tug it back up swiftly, wanting the layer to conceal your next action from the rest of the world. Satisfied with re-arranganged fabric, your hand doesn’t return to its previous home in your lap. Instead, it rests in the small stretch of space between you and Wonwoo, allowing your shoulders to brush lightly and her fingers to ghost along his thigh.

The heat of his sideways gaze continues to heat your cheeks despite your attempt at playing oblivious. Shifting closer, you pause; Wonwoo doesn’t take the opportunity to move away. Instead, he presses back. Some twisted part inside your mind relishes in victory.

Wonwoo’s left arm slouches down from its place on top of the cushion, joining yours in the space under the camouflage of the blanket. The back of your hands timidly brush before he extends his arm. It's sweet for a moment; shy and coy. But Wonwoo doesn’t allow you to sink into the gesture because his hand rests on top of your thigh and squeezes.

Thankfully you’re far enough back that no one can see unless they turn their neck so far it almost snaps off. Even then, the thick fabric of the blanket doesn’t give away what's happening underneath. The only clues are your labored breath and the shit eating grin threatening to split Wonwoo’s lips. The two couples on either side of the room are in far more compromising positions but with Wonwoo’s hand so high on your leg, you might as well be nude.

Calloused fingertips begin tracing across the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. Without thinking, your ankles uncross, letting your legs part slightly to grant him more space. A wince escapes between Wonwoo’s teeth from your nails digging into his own thigh.

Wonwoo’s hands are lazy in their journey upwards. Fingers massaging firmly against the supple skin, pulling at the flesh with a fraction of the intensity he’s capable of. His thumb kneads into cords of muscle, working out the knots he detects along the way. When he grazes the edge of the large bruise, you stiffen.

Most of the hickies he gifted that night healed, some already disappearing completely. The one he’s prodding now stubbornly remained, much to your mortification. With the irritated skin still sore to the touch, you were constantly reminded of its presence each time you moved. In your peripheral, Wonwoo turns his head. A downward twitch of your jaw motions for him to continue.

The scene on the TV is almost pitch black, throwing the room into a similar darkness. Wonwoo makes use of the cover and creeps his hand past the waistband of your sweats. He lets his palm rest against the lower part of your stomach, the pleasant warmth seeping in, soothing the nerves. The respite is short lived when his long middle finger traces along the elastic of your panties, teasing the skin under the band.

Sweat blooms on your brow and your breath grows stunted. It's embarrassing how worked up he has you. Barely twenty minutes into the movie, less than five of Wonwoo’s touch and yet the distinct wetness between your legs swells. But rather than relief, Wonwoo waits. And he waits. And he waits.

What is he waiting for? You think.

Eventually the movie will end, signaling your friends to get up. The second any of them spared a glance at your corner of the room everything will become clear and exactly what takes place under the blanket will become easily decipherable.

But there is nothing you can do to make Wonwoo’s hand dip lower and feel the dampness he spurred. Attempting to distract yourself from suffering, you switch focus on controlling your breath. Counting slowly to four while inhaling, holding for another four, and then exhaling in the same measure. Even your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh follows the rhythm. 

Mouth watering at the tense flex of the muscle under your fingers, you indulge in the visual of his room again. This time, he’s in nothing but his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be seen. Red nail marks marr his chest and his hair is wild. You’re perched in his lap, completely naked and grinding against the evident bulge, dripping a wet spot on to the gray fabric. Wonwoo would watch while you used his body to get off, his hands tearing into the sheets. Fantasy Wonwoo would beg. He’d beg to kiss you, beg to touch you. Nothing like the devil sitting next to you, forcing you to plead for every once pleasure. 

Next time Wonwoo would beg. But patience was never a virtue you took pride in. 

Your hand wanders higher, finding exactly what you knew you would. Everything in you fights against grinning like the cat who got the canary. Despite the fact that you haven't really touched, Wonwoo is half hard. Even more satisfying is how he strains against his pants with only a few teasing passes.

He releases a heavy sigh when you push against him a little more firmly. Breaking attention from the movie, you sneak a peek at his reaction.

Wonwoo’s features are void of emotion. No matching bead of sweat at his temple and the heat you feel on your cheeks fails to present itself on his. Not even a wrinkle across his forehead. He almost looks…bored. It's a stark contrast to what you can feel under her palm.

But then you look closer and discover a discrete clench of his jaw and the minute flare of his nostrils. A glimpse at his neck highlights the stiff muscles, taunt like he’s fighting to break out of his own skin. You can’t stop looking. Subtle as the signs are, Wonwoo is just as much of a mess as you are. The only difference being he’s better at concealing it. 

Wonwoo continues to play with the band of your underwear, content to pull the elastic and let it snap against your skin, providing no solace. It's maddening but gives you a chance to brace for his next move. He really only has two options, pull his hand away and end the game. Or push his fingers down further and indulge. 

When a deafening scream blasts the TV prompts everyone to jump, he strikes. Wonwoo’s fingers wedge in the tight space between your legs. The sudden intrusion makes your thighs clench, a detrimental mistake since it forces the heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit. He wastes no time before prodding against the soaking fabric curiously. Extending his fingers downward, Wonwoo teases at your entrance through your  underwear. You could cry at the relief but control yourself, lip nearly splitting from biting back a squeak. You’d sell your soul to the devil if it meant you could be alone, sitting on his lap as he talks you through it, whispering for you to be good while he stretched you over his cock again and again. 

But that's impossible. So you’ll settle for this.

Your friends are none the wiser while you build each other up under the blankets. When you stuff your hand under Wonwoo’s waistband, you find out he is certainly not wearing underwear. Immediately you take advantage, letting your thumb graze against the weeping tip. The angle doesn’t allow for a smooth so you play with the head, letting catch on his slit to over and over. Each pass earns you a shudder of his stomach against the back of your forearm.

Wonwoo pushes aside the thin strip of your underwear, two fingers tracing your entrance before dipping inside, curling up to his middle knuckle. It’s hardly enough to get off but the threat of getting caught spawns more and more arousal. At this rate, your sweatpants will be sporting a wet patch if they aren’t already.

She’s so fucking wet. Wonwoo thinks, the revelation sending a shot of want straight to his cock. He curses whatever he did in a past life preventing him from hauling you into your room and burying himself inside your cunt until he passes out. The irony of the position isn’t lost on him. Wonwoo waited all week for a green light and of course you decided to give it to him in the middle of a packed room with a dozen prying eyes and ears. But he isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. If you want him to get you off under the blanket, then he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Wonwoo repositions his hand, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, abandoning the shallow thrust at your entrance. When his fingernail scrapes delicately over the bundle of nerves, a whimper breaks from through your parted lips and almost blows their cover. 

The movie, unlike you or Wonwoo, is at its climax. Loud screams and distorted music occupy the attention of everyone in the room. But still, you both pause, frozen and waiting for a sign someone heard. Wonwoo debates pulling away. He’d seen the film before, and while his mind struggles to remember the plot he knows there's simply not enough time left before the credits roll and the illusion is shattered. 

Brain riddled with hormones and lust, Wonwoo faces an impossible choice. Call timeout and hope you’re generous enough to give him another chance. Or, he can make the most of the opportunity literally at hand and pray he’s fast enough. 

He’d already waited an entire week, what was another day? And if he waited then maybe he’d get to fuck you properly, away from any onlookers. Where you can sing all the noises that drive him crazy.

The way you play with his cock makes confident he’ll get another turn; so, with herculean effort, Wonwoo extracts his hand from your underwear, moves it back on top of her thigh and gives a minute squeeze in apology. He looks down at your face, witnessing the moments of confusion. Your eyebrows knot under his scrutiny.

“Later.” He mouths, hoping you’ll accept his promise to finish what was started.

In an instant, confusion transforms into cold rage. Features smoothing, your chin tips in defiance. Wonwoo already regrets his decision, tempted to go right back to where he left off but you look like you might rip his arm off if he tries. You turn back to the movie and ignore his existence. 

The hand in his pants doesn’t leave, and a chill of fear trickles down his spine. You aren’t prone to violence, but having his most prized possession in the palm of your hand, coupled with the sinister coldness on your face doesn’t inspire any faith that he’ll walk away unscathed.

Wonwoo isn’t sure how much time passes before you act. Seconds drag on, forcing him on the edge of his seat with anticipation. The knee closest to him bends, your foot resting on the end of the cushion, providing a tent of space over his lap. A decisive twist of her wrist catches him off guard. The space between his lap and the blanket hides the rough fists of his cock with their friends only feet away. The motion steals his breath; the way you use the slick to slide across his shaft, squeezing tightly to the point stars float in his vision.

With embarrassing swiftness, he’s close. Teeth pinching at his lip barely prevent the grunts building in his chest; praises for the devil next to him dying on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo’s hips threaten to cant up, matching the rhythm of your hand with his thrusts. The warning signs of his end sizzle through his veins, the fuzzy snaps of pleasure racing up his spine. 

Wonwoo takes one last glance at your face, finding he’s already being watched. His eyes scan the mischievous smirk on your lips and realizes a second too late that he fell right into a trap. Without warning, your hand stills.

You smile sweetly as your hand slips out of his pants, snaking it into the bottom of his sweatshirt to wipe the mess of cum against his stomach. When your hand leaves his body and returns to your own lap, Wonwoo he’s been punched in the gut. 

He has no time to ponder what the hell just happened because the credits roll and Amina is already up and moving towards the lights. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, thinking about anything that will make his hard-on deflate before he has to stand up. Cold showers, old neighbors morning sex routine, getting hit with a car… he repeats like a mantra.

On his left, you hop up, all but skipping down the hall and into the darkness. Wonwoo wants to chase and finish whatever the hell just happened given that his cock is soft enough he can tuck it up in his waistband. But his phone buzzes before he can. The screen lights up with a new message from the minx herself.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes with utter disbelief at his life. Your texts burned into his skull.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

Wonwoo: Next time?

Y/N (lisa roommate): you can think of this while you wait

The photo haunted him in his sleep. He stared at it for so long he’s sure he could draw the details from memory.

On your knees facing away from the mirror, your ass is on full display. Wonwoo doesn’t know it is better or worse that you’re lent forward with a lewd curve to your spine. Better because he can see everything. Worse because he received it minutes after you fled to your room, which means the wet cling of your panties to your folds was his doing. 

More effective than the picture is the fact you were all but twenty feet away in the privacy of your room, taking nudes while he pretended everything was normal. The entire time he helped tidy up, the walk back to his apartment, and long before he fell asleep, Wonwoo wondered if you were touching yourself. He wanted to ask; ask if you were thinking about him while you did it and if you weren’t, could he give you something to think about?

But every time he opened the thread to message you his finger refused to type. Wonwoo remembered what it was like to have you on your knees. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But now he has an idea what you look like from the back and it might end his life.

Instead of spending the night with the subject of his desires, Wonwoo found himself the subject of torture. Lisa came back to their apartment so the couple could leave first thing in the morning to some rural bed and breakfast outside the city to celebrate their anniversary. Apparently, they decided to start their celebration early. Hours of Lisa and Mingyu going at it across the hall stretched on with no end in sight. 

Their usual antics would piss Wonwoo off but he’d deal with it. However, last night it only reminded him how much he is not getting laid and he has no one to blame but himself. Crushing a pillow over his head, Wonwoo attempted to make up for the sleep he is already desperately missing. 

His efforts were hopeless. Barely five minutes passed before he turned fitful, tossing and turning without finding comfort. Every trick he knows failed; counting his breath, meditation, relaxing music, turning off his phone. Nothing works. He gives up after an hour.

When dawn came, Wonwoo’s bad mood set in to plague him the rest of the day. 

Sheltering down in his room, he remains hidden until he is certain Mingyu and Lisa are long gone. When he does finally leave his bed, the choke of storm clouds outside have darkened the skies to the point that if not for the clock on his phone he would think it's closer to midnight than it is to noon.

When he decides to step out to grab food, his mistake doesn’t hit him until he’s already shut the door. 

Wonwoo’s keys are still on the kitchen counter. Next to his wallet. And his will to live. 

Several streets over, your day is going much much better; refreshed from a full night sleep and the thought of what Wonwoo’s face looked like opening the picture.

Lisa and Amina granted clemency last night, cleaning the mess from the evening before abandoning you for the weekend. Lisa off with Mingyu while Amina joined the college friends on their annual retreat (re: party weekend at the coast). Leaving you all to your lonesome for the next two days, nothing but rest and relaxation dancing on the horizon.

The murky darkness of thunder and rain outside the window is staved off by the warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the living room and the dancing lights of the TV as a random show whispers quietly. The warm air is clogged with the sweet smell of vanilla and bergamot from one of Amina’s large candles that rests on the coffee table. And bundle on the couch in the same blanket soiled from the night before, you doze off like a house cat. 

A rogue buzzing pulls you back from the shallow slumber, eyes cracking open lazily to search for the device lost in the cushions. By the time you find it, the call has gone to voicemail. The notification on the screen means you must still be dreaming.

MISSED CALL: Wonwoo

A flash of panic tightens your chest. A million thoughts race by, all regarding what could prompt Wonwoo to call you. He doesn’t call you. In the year and a half you’ve known each other there isn’t a single instance of it. The complete uncharacteristic nature of it has you calling him back before giving it a second thought.

“Are you home?” Snaps through the speaker after the first ring.

He sounds pissed. It’s not the usual sarcastic lit that graces his interactions. It’s dry and pointed and already grating your nerves.

“Well, hello to you.” You sneer back.

“Hi.” He deadpans. You can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Are you home?”

“Why?”

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and both your roommates are out… of course you’re home.

“I’m locked out and I know Mingyu gave Lisa a copy of the key.”

“You’re locked out?” You parrot. It’s not that it’s an impossible situation, it’s just ridiculously unlucky timing.

“Good to know you’re listening.” He bites.

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m out of town.”

“Y/N…” He interrupts, voice clearly exhausted.

Normally, you would goad him until blue in the face. His stunt last night doesn’t warrant patience. But you know he’s had a week from hell too based on what Mingyu and Lisa shared.

“Yeah I’m home. But Lisa took her keys with her so I doubt the spare is here.”

“Great, just fucking great.” He erupts.

You wince, “Sorry.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t respond immediately. The measured cadence of his breath echoes through the line. When he finally speaks again he sounds calmer.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Timing is just shit given the week I’ve had.”

“Your landlord can’t let you in?”

“Not answering his phone.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Also not answering.”

After that, words fail you. But given Wonwoo truly seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, you throw him a bone.

Readjusting the phone on your shoulder, your hands pick at the frayed hem of the blanket. “Look, if you want to sleep on the couch here, be my guest.”

Silence.

“If you’d rather call a locksmith go ahead.” You rush. “Just thought I’d offer.” 

“If you wanted a slumber party you could have told me.”

Apparently, even poor luck can’t prevent Wonwoo from being a complete smartass.

“Have fun sleeping outside!” You croon sweetly, looking for the button to end the call.

“Wai—”

Phone locked and tossed to the floor, you burrow back into the nest of pillows and blankets. Any prior  drowsiness transforms into irritation. 

Less than a minute passes before your phone begins ringing once more.

 It's your turn to snap at him. “What?”

The pause on the other end of the line is heavy. 

“I was being an ass.”

“You’re always an ass.” You respond with a deep sigh.

“The locksmith won’t come till morning so…”

Despite your better judgment, you take pity on the poor man. 

“Come over.” You concede, cringing at the implication of the phrase. Wonwoo is coming over because he’s locked out. Not for any other reason. He’s desperate and needs somewhere to crash until his landlord can let him in.

“…Thanks.” 

The call ends.

Wonwoo knocks on the door twenty minutes later. You can’t believe what you see through the peephole. He’s soaked down to his skin, hair matted to his forehead despite the hood of his jacket. The chill of the hallway makes him shake like a leaf in a windstorm. When you finally open the door to face him, he’s somehow worse than he was through the glass.

If it was under any other circumstances the cling of the hoodie against his broad chest would stir something inside you. But Wonwoo has never looked so… pitiful.

“Oh my god,” You manage, choking on laughter.

“Are we just gonna stand here or can I come in?”

Shouldering open the door, you snicker as Wonwoo steps around. At least until he starts abandoning his wet clothes once inside.

“Wait, let me get some towels.” 

Running to the bathroom, you snag whatever towels can be spared. You catch yourself in the mirror before exiting. Messy hair with an indent on your cheek from the crease of the pillow is the least of your problems. There's stain on the front of your sweater from the leftover pizza scarfed down for lunch and you aren’t wearing a bra. 

It doesn’t matter considering Wonwoo looks like a drowned cat but you’re still self conscious. The best you can do is splash cold water on your face and remember he is worse off than you.

Wonwoo waits right where you left him by the door, dripping more water with each second. His bare chest glistens in the dim light. When he looks up from his phone you chuck a towel at his head. 

“You can wait in the bathroom while I find some dry clothes.”

Wonwoo trudges behind as you lead him back the way you came. 

Once again, he immediately unbuttons his pants without regard for your presence. Deft fingers make quick work. You remember where you are when he goes to force them down.

Wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror, “Staying to watch?”

“I’m just gonna…” You mumble, looking anywhere but at the show he puts on.

The door latch clicks just as the heavy thuds of his soaked clothes land in the sink. Leaning against the opposite wall, your head gently rests against the cool surface. A deep sigh leaves your nose.

You’ve seen Wonwoo naked. Your hand was down his pants less than twenty four hours ago. A picture of your ass lives in his text messages for Christ sake. Seeing him shirtless and wet shouldn’t have you blushing like some virgin.

Ruminating on your momentary lapse of dignity will get you nowhere so you start hunting for the collection of Seungcheol’s clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser. A few months ago the sight would have sent you to tears. Now, it’s comical. The fleeting memory of Lisa’s bewildered face when you choked down sobs after Amina threw out your ex’s toothbrush rears its head. Crazy how things can change so quickly from hurt to nothing.

You're in and out of the bathroom in a flash, collecting wet clothes in exchange for dry ones. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t jest from behind the current.

While he continues to shower, you’re busy with making the couch habitable. Knowing you can’t deal with another of Wonwoo’s uncouth comments, the blanket you previously used is exchanged for the one draped on the armchair. Rather the blanket Mingyu and Lisa sullied than the one tainted by yourselves.

Wonwoo comes down the hallway just in time, toweling at his damp hair. 

“Well, this is it.” You say, avoiding eye contact. “There's a charge plugged in near the TV you're welcome to use. Um, good night.”

“Gonna make me sleep all by myself?” He plops on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. Wonwoo’s too cocky for someone who looked like he drowned on dry land twenty minutes ago. 

Wonwoo’s triumphant smirk doesn’t last when you plop a heavy knitted quilt over him. He scrambles free but you’re already halfway to your bedroom.

Scoffing, you respond,“What? Are you scared of the dark?”

“If that's the excuse you need to come over here, sure. I’m terrified.”

“Awww,” you coo sarcastically. “You’ll cope.”

In the confines of your room, you manage the first deep breath of the night. You won’t be able to sleep. Not with him so close. Not when temptation is just beyond the door and down the hallway. 

How dare he ask you for a favor and then act like an ass. Of course, he’d use something so unfortunate to get his dick wet. 

More steam pours from your ears as you ruminate. Pacing back and forth you scoff at his audacity until it boils over and you're stomping back into the living room.

“You know I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here.” You fume, stopping a few feet away from where the biggest pain in your ass rests. “I could have let you go to Eva and Soonyoung’s and deal with their bullshit but I didn’t.”

Wonwoo lifts on one elbow, eying you silently. 

Faltering under his gaze, you continue to ramble. “How dare you ask me for a favor and then act like a pig.”

“You’re right.” 

“What?” You choke.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo concedes. 

You falter for a second in disbelief, mouth gaping over silent words. It couldn’t have been that easy. 

“I shouldn’t have believed you giving me a handy meant more than it was.”

Huffing, you stop and turn back to your room. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet, you still sent me a pic of your ass.” He snorts, collapsing back into his pillow. “Pick a lane, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flinging your hands in the air, you return back to your room to stew until morning.

“So that picture was all talk?” Wonwoo yells in your direction.

He wants a reaction and that's exactly what he gets. Pivoting, you storm back in front of the couch. 

“Oh! I’m all talk? You’re the one who can’t even finish what he started.”

“And what did I start?” He sneers, sitting up. 

You know what he’s doing. Attempting to rile you up until there's no choice but to give in. And it’s working. Wiping that stupid smirk on his face is as simple as swallowing his cock until he’s nothing more than a twitching mess. But if Wonwoo wants you, he’ll need to try harder than goading a response out of you. 

Biting back you prod his chest, “Nothing worth my time, that's for damn sure.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, rising to his feet. “Didn’t seem that way last night.” 

Chest to chest, he’s more intimidating but you won’t falter. Instead, you switch gears. Your finger skims dangerously close to the waistband of his pants. 

“I’m a really, really good actress.”

A battle of wills ensues. Wonwoo stares you down, unflinching at your smirk. He’s pissed at the implication. It's clear in his body language; tense shoulders, shuddering breath. 

Your fatal mistake comes when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. The memory of what they felt like jolts an ache in your bones. 

A tilt of his chin is all the invitation you need to drag his mouth to yours.

Wonwoo has you perched on his lap in an instant, legs splayed over his spread thighs and his hands pulling you forward. It's clumsy but eagerness blinds you both to anything beyond the powerful drag of your core hips against the tent in his pants.

Twisting a hand in the short hair at the base of Wonwoo’s neck, you tug hard enough to move him how you want. A throaty moan is the only response he gives, easily following your demands. But the way his large hands grab at the curve of your ass move you how he wants.

He groans into the curve of your shoulder with the next cant of your hips. “God, you’re so hot. Shit.”

Despite the chill that has creeped its way inside the apartment, you’re burning up; skin flushed and hot to touch. The hand not tangled in Wonwoo’s hair slips under his shirt, nails skating up the taunt muscles of his abdomen. His own hands echo the path, finding their way beneath your sweater.

Wonwoo lifts your sweater and swiftly drops it to the flooring, busying his hands with cradling the soft skin he’s uncovered. He leans away to break the kiss, but you manage to drag him back. 

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you curse, clinging tighter when he breaks the contact and drops his mouth to your chest.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, leaving you dizzy and desperate. Head in the clouds, you fold and bend as he tortures your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb leaves goosebumps in its wake, skating across your nipple until it pebbles. One reflex you twist the fist of his hair harshly when he pinches and are rewarded with a moan and rush of his cock into your covered cunt. 

A hot trail of sloppy kisses sends your heart into a tailspin. Wonwoo must feel it with the way he licks and sucks your nipple; pulling until it pops out of his mouth before he leans back to repeat the motion once more.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s borrowed sweatshirt is abandoned on the floor as well but neither of you find the rush present from your previous romp. You follow when Wonwoo leans back, flat against his chest.

Hazy fatigue swells around the edges. The feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, and roaming hands brings everything to a calming lull. Without the fog of alcohol or the threat of nosey friends, you explore each other with feather light touches that turn into gentle gropes, and hot wet kisses that transform into drags of teeth and lips. From shared exhaustion, running on nothing less than minutes of sleep and a near lethal dose of caffeine, you sluggish trapeze through the motions. 

Taking advantage of the moment, you discover exactly what Wonwoo likes. When you rake a hand through his hair, nails pulling through the damp locks to scratch against his scalp, then Wonwoo shudders and sucks at your chest with more enthusiasm than before. He likes when you bite him, his hips rutting up harshly with each nip at his throat.

Each breathy sigh you release spurs him on. Melting into a needy mess, you can’t find an ounce of embarrassment; even as Wonwoo massages your cunt through your sweatpants and pathetic whimper after pathetic whimper pours from your throat.

Having his focus on you makes you crave him more. A never ending cycle of want. 

“Please,” you beg. The second the word is out of your mouth, Wonwoo is ushering you towards your room.

You trip through the living room with Wonwoo’s mouth still latched to your chest. Pinned between the back of the couch and his body, he sucks until your shoulders cave and you force him from his hiding place. 

“What?” he smirks into your jaw. “What do you want?” His hand sneaks its way under your pants, squeezing a palm full of your bare ass before slipping down further. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He nips at your chin, fingers dipping into your entrance. “So messy for me.”

Your hands scramble for something to comfort from the onslaught. Wonwoo is already back between your breasts, humming around the flesh every time you shudder from his ministrations. He twists his fingers into your core, the noise loud despite the cover of your pants.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you rasps under the prod of his thumb against your clit. Rather than succumbing to the mind numbing assault, you jolt into action. 

Wonwoo angles his hips just right when he realizes your aim. It’s too easy to force your hand under the fabric and find him hard and waiting just like last night. But unlike last night, you don’t have to hide. And the freedom dooms him from the start. 

Anchoring one hand on his chest, you push until he’s upright. He’s a wreck; eyes half shut behind the lens of his glass and lips a delectable shade of red. You pull your hand out of his pants and lap away the evidence of his arousal, delighting in the way a vein on his neck jumps when you give them a lewd suck.

Turning, you saunter down the hallway, shedding the rest of your clothes as you go.

“Coming?” you call over your shoulder, pinning Wonwoo in place as you bend to slip off your sweatpants, flashing him the barest peak of your cunt, before continuing to your room.

You don’t hear him following until you're at the threshold. A rush of footsteps and then he’s emerging from the darkness, eyes taking in your naked form. Wonwoo looks like he’s been starving and you’re the first meals he’s about to have in years.

Wonwoo pins you to the wooden door, one hand finding your jaw while the other bats your legs wide before roughly swiping at your sensitive clit. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear.

Two fingers tap against your lips. Without hesitation you present your tongue, lapping the digits like you would his cock. Wonwoo watches with so much heat in his gaze you can’t stop a moan from slipping free when he puts pressure on your tongue and causes you to drool. He makes to pull away but stops when you grab his wrist and force him in place.

You suck his fingers deeper, eyes never leaving his the entire time. The pressure against the inside of your cheek leaves you reeling. Pure desire inks your brain and makes you desperate. 

Both unsatisfied, you let Wonwoo go. He’s quicker than you imagined. A force full grab of your jaw tugs you away from the door and into his mouth. The slide of his tongue against your own verges on pornographic but you're too busy focusing on the same fingers you’d just been sucking on splitting your folds before stretching your walls. 

Slowly falling to his knees, Wonwoo shoulders under your leg until your pussy is splayed for him to enjoy. The trail of hot kisses across your hip do nothing to comfort you. Not with the swift pace of his hand.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare all night?” 

The strip he licks up your core, tongue flat and heavy, makes you double over. Wonwoo remembers exactly what buttons to push to shut you up, overwhelming you with his mouth and hand buried in your cunt along with the hand continuing to tweak your nipples. 

“Fuck,” you mewl. “You can do—shit—better than that.”

The raze of his teeth on your clit is punishment enough for the outburst. But Wonwoo loves to prove a point. His pace becomes slower than ever, still hard but the tempo of his hand is reserved. It makes you hot all over. Choking on air, your brain melts and bones jelly under the lashing of Wonwoo’s tongue. 

Just as he finds the perfect angle, he falls back.

You snap. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer. Wonwoo pulls away his hand and rises to his feet. Once nose to nose, he smiles. The sudden change is disorienting. Even more so when he leaves a gentle peck against your cheek and heads for the bed.

Perching on the bed, he leans pack on to his palms and presents his lap like a throne. “Come here,” he commands.

Scrabbling into his lap, Wonwoo catches you off guard. His hands strike across your waist as he leans back, shuffling you up his chest until your knelt over his face.

Your hands steady on your thighs, brushing his. In an uncharacteristic act of sweetness, he tangles his fingers with your own. 

The gesture leaves you reeling. “Wonwoo?”

His hands curl around your thighs and force you down onto his waiting tongue. There's no build up, only hunger. Wonwoo points his tongue and uses it to trace hard circles around your clit before suck so harshly you buckle in half. 

If Wonwoo minds he makes no show of it. Instead, he pins your tangled hands in place and licks deeper, tracing anywhere he can reach. Every muscle in your body jerks from the sloppy way he eats you out.

Sweat blooms on your skin. Each breath stilted and you’re drooling when cracks open an eye to take him in. The flex of his biceps when you lurches against a vulgar suck of his mouth. Even the mop of his hair buried between your thighs makes you whimper. 

One hand leaves your, reaching around and pinching your ass punitively.

“Work for it,” he hums into your pussy.

Not needing to be told twice, you rock where your bodies meet. Your free hand tangles in his hair and uses the leverage to grind against his tongue. Wonwoo’s hand continues to follow the curve of your ass until he’s able to tease your entrance. 

Foul noises radiate from where he works you, from his hand and your mouth. Spit and arousal smear on his cheeks and you can feel it against your thighs bracketing his head.

You want to see his face. The heat in his eyes when he’s focused on something, focused on you, making you cum. You pull Wonwoo’s hair again.

“Focus,” His muffled voice is thick and broken, like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

Whining from the vibration against your clit, tears threaten to fall from how tight you pinches your eyes shut from the onslaught. 

“Wonwoo, I’m—” you sob. “Please, fuck. Please, I’m gonna cum.”

The world holds its breath. And then it shatters into a million pieces.

You’re whole and not. No more than a supernova. Whine after whine claws its way out of your lungs until you choke on them.

Wonwoo pays no mind, continuing to work you until you try and fall away. But he expects it, moving with you and staying between your thighs like you haven’t cum at all.

“Too much,” you gasp when he spits on your ruined cunt.

Flashing the pink of his tongue, he sneers your own words back with acidic sweetness. “You can do better than that.”

Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he digs in again. 

It hurts. Wonwoo isn’t easing you into a second orgasm. If anything, he’s bullying it out of you. 

And you take it.

“I can’t,” you plead, dipping your chin to meet his eyes and beg your case. “Too much, Woo. I—”

Wonwoo leans back and slows the three fingers buried inside you. The hand pressed to your stomach rises to cup your face, his thumb tracing the bow of your lips. 

“You can.” He coos. His thumb slips into your mouth a second before he spits on your clit and uses his soiled hand to slap.

The scream ripping its way out is silenced by the digit in your mouth. Wonwoo dives back in, taking zero mercy. Your hips buck into his mouth involuntarily and the bastard laughs.

“See? You want it so bad, don’t you baby?” 

His thumb pops from your mouth but not before you manage a quick nip. The look on Wonwoo’s face tells you it was the wrong answer to his question.

Your breath falters when the faintest amount of pressure ghosts along your throat, waiting for your okay before committing. 

Spreading your legs wider and tucking your hands behind your knees, you nod, “I want it.” 

Pupils blown wide, Wonwoo goes rigid before exploding into a frenzy. 

He sucks your folds into his mouth, hastily laving you in his spit before forcing another finger inside your tight hole. 

“C’mon, you can do it for me. Give me one more.” He demands while coming up for a breath. “Such a fucking mess for me.”

Your hips snap harshly, nails digging into his wrist resting on your chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

Feet planting onto the mattress, you rock against his face with more force than before. A cacophony of vulgar squelches and desperate whines fill the room. He squeezes until stars dot your vision from the lack of blood flow only to release with a rush of lightheaded bliss. Using your hands to tug at your sore nipples, you finally give Wonwoo what he wants.

“W-Wonwoo, so good.” You pant. 

He cleans up the mess the same way he made it but with a gentler touch. It doesn’t stop the quivers of overstimulation from wrecking your nerves but he whispers an apology for each one and rubs it into the crease of your thigh when you wince.

With a final peck to your clit, he releases you.

Wonwoo’s chest heaves, eyes drooping in lust or fatigue, you don’t know. Maybe both. When he rises from his spot between your legs, you scramble for his face. Mouths meet in a slow kiss, nothing more than a languid press against one another and a few deep breaths. You taste yourself but ignore it. You’re too tired, too sated, to care. 

You try and palm his cock, eager to return the favor but Wonwoo shifts away. He crowds you up to the pillows, pulls you into his chest, and sends you off to sleep with his lips against your forehead.

You simply lay there, curled around one another until sleep claims you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

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[mikkomacko]

Jersey Leeds

Nico Hischier x Reader

Summary: Nico's balancing the playoffs and his pregnant wife who's due any day now.

A/n: This one got away from me and is now way longer than I intended. But it's so cute so I hope you all love it.

~

Typically, you're a very calm and easy going person. You don't go out of your way to make life difficult or feel the need to voice your every thought and opinion. Not that there's anything wrong with it, it's just not who you are.

Which is why you went along with the rule Nico had established after the regular season closed out. Your due date was growing closer and closer, a month turned to 3 weeks, and then 2 weeks, and then Nico was pulling his hair out trying to keep calm. He was about to captain his way through the post season for the first time all while trying to be a father for the first time?

At the recommendation of your doctor (and some online advice), Nico had kindly begged you to stay home for the playoff games in New Jersey. He didn't want you in such a wild and stressful environment, didn't want to risk you being around a crowd of fans that have been deprived of playoff hockey for years. It's their first season back in the post season after the rebuild, he'd told you, and he didn't know what to expect. The last thing he wanted to worry about was you and the baby somewhere in the stands while he was on the ice. Especially for a rivalry round against the Rangers. Things get out of control, he also said, what if something happened to you?

So you agreed. You spent the entirety of the first round in your apartment, eyes glued to the TV and hands on the overinflated balloon that was your belly as you watched Nico fight to keep his team in. He played well, enough to keep you from going stir crazy in the living room, but you knew he was thinking about you and the baby at home. Those 2 weeks turned to one, and it was evident in his struggle to find the back of the net that Nico was holding that due date on his shoulders, right on top of the weight of a tight series. If you being at home was going to ease that weight somehow, you'd do it.

But when game 7 found its way back to New Jersey, you couldn't do it.

"Nico you can't confine me to our home!" You argue, folding the white onesie in your hands "I'm pregnant, not imprisoned. If I want to be there I get to be there." You stack it in the laundry basket, picking up the next freshly washed and dried one.

He's set aside his iPad where he had been watching film from last night's game, the screen now dark as he turns his attention to you.

"Love," he sighs, running a hand through his overgrown hair "you know how much I want you to be there. I always want you there, but this is a whole different game now. You don't know what the fans are like and I can't just let you walk into somewhere you might not be safe."

Safe. Lately everything has come down to you being safe. It wasn't any concern before now. You'd gone to every Rangers game, every Flyers game, and every high tense game before that. The organization and the fans know you, they respect you because at the end of the night you're the one taking their captain home just to send him back the next morning. You'd never felt unsafe or unwelcomed at the Rock before.

"I'm just as safe there as here," you respond, still plucking your way through the pile of baby clothes "I've been there before, I'm known there. That's my home just as much as it's yours."

Nico sits up from the headboard, pushing his iPad even further away as he too grabs a couple of bibs and socks from the pile of clothes. He's silent for a moment and you look over at him to see that he's simply holding a pair of baby socks in his large hands, lips pursed in thought. You know he's picturing the tiny feet that'll wear those socks, thinking about how they kick at his hands when he holds you and talks too loud, when he presses his own stomach into yours so he can kiss you and the butterflies that rush through your body tickle at the baby too. You know he's worried, it's his thing. He's always footed too much responsibility, even when he doesn't have to.

"I know it is," he looks up at you, brown eyes gentle and warm but tinged with fear "and it'll be her home too. But it's not yet, and it definitely won't feel like home when hundreds of blue shirts pack in there tomorrow night. You know how these games are normally baby, and while our fans take care of you, I can't promise anything else for the others."

He folds the socks together, tossing them towards the basket with a half-hearted flick of his hand. You pick the pair up and set them in with the rest, handing him the little tee-shirt in your hands. Jack had gifted it to you a week after you told the team about the pregnancy.

"Don't you think the captain should have his family there?" You prod, softly as you watch his lips twitch into a smile at the shirt. It's got the smallest little Devils logo on the front, a C stamped on the shoulder and when he flips it over to look at the 13 and name on the back you notice the way his bottom lip rattles with emotion.

"We'll get there early and stay in the box the whole time. The other girls will be there, I'll stay towards the back and I won't leave until you or someone from the team comes to get me afterwards." You promise, and while that may sound a little dramatic, you don't mind. In fact nothing sounds better than sitting in those plush chairs watching him play while the caterers bring you food and drinks. The only time you'll have to put your swollen feet to work is to go to the bathroom.

Nico runs his thumb over the white letters spelling out Baby Hischier, and you know he's given in by the slow flutter of his eyelashes as he blinks, the smallest bit of hesitance as he thinks this might be the wrong decision but what the hell?

He folds the shirt, pushing himself up from the mess of sheets and you bite back a grin as he rounds the bed to you. A smile has fought it's way onto his face, crinkling at his eyes and sinking dimples into his cheeks. God you hope the baby has that smile of his.

You reach out for him, hands finding his chest before running up to wrap around his neck. He grips the sides of your belly, drawing you closer to him until your belly button is brushing against his abdomen.

"You don't go anywhere without security," he murmurs, right hand coming up to push a strand of hair away from your face. "no dropping into the store during intermission because you wanted something last minute for the baby. And absolutely no trash talking. These fans are fist happy and I don't need you pissing them off even if you're just defending me."

You can't help but laugh. It wouldn't be the first time you'd passionately defended him in the crowd or taunted a fan after he's scored. He knows you so well. You'd never do that now, you know to keep a low profile but it's sweet that he thinks he needs to remind you.

"I promise baby," you swear, sealing it with a kiss and he cups your face to bring you in even closer. "I just want to be there for you. We want to be there for you."

His inhale is uneven, a small tremor of fear or maybe anxiety or even excitement. Maybe all three but it does nothing to wipe away the smile on his face and so you kiss him again, laughing when you feel little hands and feet nudging against his palm on your stomach. Nico keeps kissing you, trailing his lips over your cheeks and nose as you giggle again, and he presses his hand even further into your stomach.

"Yes," he huffs playfully, looking down at your belly "you girls won, I know. I'll get used to it."

~

You stayed as low-key as possible. Simple all black clothes, casual and comfy shoes, minimal makeup and tucked your hair up into a Devils hat and hair clip. Nico appreciated it, slipping his bracelets onto your wrists before he left and giving you a kiss after he reminded you of the rules and precautions and emergency numbers for people at the arena.

The other girls had been notified of your playoff debut and swore up and down that they'd have your back, just as you'd always had theirs. You rode in the party bus with them, hands over your belly as you laughed and caught up with everyone. You missed them lately, and a part of you was heartbroken that you didn't get the first full playoff experience with them. Even the jackets, which you'd ordered and distributed to everyone, were a jab in your emotional heart because you didn't think to get yourself one. At the time you knew you'd be staying home for the games and it didn't seem worth it. Seeing it hang in your room knowing you'd never wear it would be just awful so you didn't bother.

A part of you now wishes you had, and you could almost cry about it if you weren't so excited for the game. But when the bus rolled up to the arena and the lights came up, your happiness at being back was nothing compared to the wave of emotion that took over when the girls pulled out a giant gift bag.

It was red and sparkly, your name written on the tag in a very familiar font. You pushed aside the black tissue paper, eyes welling with tears as you pulled out the black leather jacket. The name Nico had given you last summer and his number, surrounded by bright flames. You unfolded the jacket, swiping at the tears on your cheeks while the girls laughed and cheered. A white card had fallen into your lap, the message simple and sweet.

Knew you'd need it eventually

You didn't need a signature to know who gifted you this. The writing itself was clear but the special signature on the sleeve topped with a heart instead of a 13, said it all. Nico only signed with a heart when it was addressed to you. From that first receipt at the bar you met at after he bought your drinks, to the flowers he'd had delivered to you a few weeks ago just because, that same signature always topped it off.

That's what comes to mind when he takes the ice, finding his spot on the blue line for the national anthem and you holler with the rest of the fans, tucked into the jacket he got specifically for you. The Rock is electric, every fan on their feet and every towel in the air. You keep up for as long as you possibly can but your feet quickly grow sore and tired, so you settle into a seat with a plate of food. At least until you get too into the game and jump back up to cheer with the rest of the girls.

Intermission is spent taking pictures for Instagram, showing off the jackets once again and thanking the artist. You answer texts from family and friends wishing you and Nico good luck tonight, letting you know they're tuning in to watch. An ice cream helmet and a churro are delivered to you courtesy of the security guard Nico has requested follow you at all times, and you enjoy the snack for the entirety of the second period.

With the Devils up 2-0 you feel pretty good. Nico was right, you didn't know what a playoff crowd was like and while it's overwhelming, it's also heartwarming. You can't help but think of how happy Nico must be, how much he deserves this. He's done his best all season to carry the weight of being captain of a team that's constantly left behind and forgotten. The Devils are always the underdogs, and at the front of the pack is your boyfriend, trying his best to build them up into contenders. His first point of the night is a step in the right direction, and you hope he's pulling himself out of the rut he's been in. Maybe you're just superstitious but you convince yourself it's because you're at the game.

As the minutes tick by, you grow even more happy about attending tonight's game. If you're lucky it'll even relax Nico into letting you attend round 2, and hopefully more rounds after that. But you're getting ahead of yourself.

In fact, you don't really have time to think about the next round at all because the baby's begun kicking around in your belly. At first you're amused, making a mental note to tell Nico that he's going to have a hard time keeping his daughter from the rink. But as the girls take turns feeling her kick, the sudden sharp pain in your spine and release of pressure between your legs makes you freeze.

The game grows forgotten, the food and laughs and pictures given up on. There's nothing else to think about except the fact that you are going into labor and your husband is unattainable on the ice below you.

~

Nico has just stepped down the tunnel when he's stopped by personnel, not even around the corner and to the locker room yet. Someone's holding a phone out to him, urging him to take it and he feels his heart drop to his stomach. Why are they looking at him like that? With those hesitant smiles and nervous eyes. He knows it's about you, it has to be and the fact that you're not down here yet let's him know something's wrong.

He rips off his helmet, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hi my love!" You greet, a little breathless but cheerful. Nico doesn't care whose phone he's got, he takes it with him towards the locker room. Why are you calling him?

"Hey darling, what are you doing?" He ignores the other boys, sitting down in his locker and untying his skates. You're not giving him any reason to be nervous but he has a feeling he should be. "Are you down here yet?"

He can hear someone else talking with you, their voice muddled through the phone but he imagines it's one of the girls. "No I'm not going down to the locker room." You carefully say "I actually already left the arena."

It's then that he recognizes the sound of a car radio and the rumble of the highway. He can feel the others looking at him, wondering why he's on the phone and already stripping out of his gear instead of celebrating with them.

"What do you mean you left?" He asks, toweling through his sweaty hair. "I told you to come down here."

Someone honks on the other line. "I know I know, but I need you to stay calm when I say this Nico."

He freezes, heart pounding in his chest but trying his best to not let it rattle in his voice. "What happened? Are you ok?"

By now Jack has picked up on the call, slowly inching towards Nico's stall with questioning eyes. "I'm fine. The baby is fine. We had a great time. So much fun that she kinda decided she wanted to watch it in person."

Nico's head spins. "What? What do you mean?"

"My water broke," you say and Nico's tossing the phone to Jack, ripping off his jersey and pads.

"Ask her how long ago." He instructs, and he hears Jack greet you before asking the question. You must talk to him for a bit because he's mouthing things and holding up fingers as you go. Nico continues to tear through his gear, half-heartedly wiping sweat off as he goes so he can get dressed.

"Five minutes left in the third," Jack recites back to him. "She took the bus here with the girls so Clare is driving her and they're about 2 minutes from the hospital."

Nico tugs on a pair of shorts and shoves his feet into the sneakers he left in his locker this morning. "She's asking that you please shower before coming here because she knows you smell awful."

He wants to laugh, knows she's teasing him to try and calm him down. It doesn't work. All he can think about is how you're in labor, that your water broke and he wasn't there to help you to the car or drive you to the hospital. He throws on a shirt, taking the phone back from Jack.

"Already dressed, I'm not showering." He's shoving things into his duffle, unsure of what he even needs or should take with him. He at least has the right sense to grab deodorant and cologne from his stall.

"Nico it's not that bad yet." You say on the other end of the phone. "Really you have the time to shower and do media-"

"Media?" He interrupts, "You're not fucking serious? I'm going to the hospital so I can be with you, not talking to the press."

He digs his keys and phone out of the side pocket of his bag, tossing it over his shoulder. He's still got the phone to his ear when he turns back to Jack. "You're on media tonight. Don't say a word about this and call me afterwards."

Jack salutes him, eyes shiny and smile wide. It's then that Nico realizes the whole room is watching him excitedly. Biting back a laugh he address you again.

"I'll be there in 5 minutes. Text me if you get into a room ok?"

"Ok Nico."

"I'll see you soon love," he says quietly, wanting to keep the sweet moment between you two. You return the sentiment, wincing slightly afterwards and he knows you're starting to feel those contractions.

"Hey," he calls before you can hang up. "Don't have that baby until I'm there."

"You got it Cap."

He hangs up, not knowing what to do with the random phone he's been given until the employee that handed it to him is shoving into the room. He quickly gives it back, double checking his pockets for everything just as reporters begin to pour into the room.

"Well boys," he finally addresses the team, looking around at their expectant faces. "We fought hard, we came out on top. And we can do it again later but for now..." Jack has found his way to Nico's side, gripping his shoulder and shaking him excitedly. "I gotta go have a baby."

Hoots and hollers bust out, Jack kisses his cheek and shoves him towards the door. He receives more taps and shoves as he goes, everyone wishing him luck as he prepares for the biggest moment of his life.

~

Nico's fully aware that he looks like a mess. Disheveled, sweaty, gnawing at his bottom lip as he rushes into the labor and delivery lobby. A man in scrubs spots him before he can reach the counter, obviously recognizing him.

"Hischier?" He asks anyway and Nico nods, unsure if he answers around the trembles of his breath. "Right this way, don't worry you haven't missed a thing."

That eases him a bit, enough that he's not breathing down the man's back as they disappear down a long hallway, one left turn, two right turns. Nico finds the room number you'd given him earlier immediately, almost shoving the man out of the way to get to the door. He thinks he apologizes or maybe says excuse me but the only thing running through his mind is seeing you, being there with you.

You're pacing the room when he walks in, one hand on your lower back and the other rubbing circles over your belly. Clare is standing by the side of the bed, watching you like a hawk and Nico feels better knowing she was there. His entrance draws your attention from the TV in the corner of the room, eyes meeting his and your face immediately lights up. He moves to you before you can even take a step towards him, hands reaching up to hold your flush face.

"Why are you up? Are you ok?"

He searches your face, looks for hint of agony or worry but only finds your beautiful eyes and swollen lips. You place a hand over his, laughing softly.

"I'm ok. Still dilating but it feels better to walk." You say. "I sit down for big contractions, I promise."

Nico trusts you, backing away to thank Clare for taking care of you while you continue to move about the room. She leaves to go meet Ryan, promising to check in on you in a couple hours before disappearing out of the room. He perches on the end of the bed, watching you on the edge of his seat in case he needs to get up. The TV is showing highlights of the game tonight before cutting to the locker room just in time to see Nico give his goodbye speech to the team.

Eyebrows raised, you look at him expectantly.

"What?" He asks, defensive.

"You most definitely had time to shower." You say, waddling towards him. His hands find your hips, chin tilting up to look at you just in time to see you dramatically scrunch your nose at him.

"Not a good first impression on your daughter Nico, she's going to think you're stinky all the time."

He laughs, reaching up to move a piece of hair that's stuck to the sweat on your neck. "I have clothes in the baby bag, I'll change my love."

The relief he expected to see on your face is instead one of panic. Eyes wide, mouth dropping open and you squeeze his shoulders.

"I forgot the baby bag!" You wail, throwing your head back in frustration. Nico jumps to his feet when your whine turns to a wince, your hand dropping to your stomach. He carefully turns you until you're sitting on the bed instead, one hand crushing his as you breathe through a contraction.

He waits for it to pass before digging his phone out. "It'll be fine, I'll have Jack stop and get it. The car seats already in my car, nursery set up." Nico brushes your hair back in again, inhaling and exhaling calmly with you. "We're ready for this."

You take another deep breath, eyes not leaving his and he's tries his best to look reassuring.

"We're ready," you repeat quietly "we're having a baby and we're ready."

~

Two hours later, after countless swear words over tearful cheeks, her hand squeezing the life out of Nico's, and a little bit of wooziness on his part, Nico's met his daughter.

She's a tiny little thing, only 6 pounds and 9 ounces. Her fingers and toes scrunched, eyes pinched shut under blonde eyebrows but after only a couple cries, she lays on your chest with a smile. And when he leans in to kiss you, blubbering something about how much he loves you and how precious she is, her little nose scrunches in distaste. Maybe he should've showered. It ends up not mattering though because she still recognizes his voice, especially when he says sweet things in German to her, and her little head tilts towards him, hands wiggling around like she's trying to find him.

As soon as she's swaddled he's taking her, cradling her to his chest in the gentlest but safest way he can. Nico's never thought of himself as impossibly strong but she's so light and so small he's afraid of holding her too tight and hurting her.

You watch him fawn over her while you get cleaned up, brushing out your hair and sponging away the sweat and blood and goop. Nico presses his nose to the top of her head, right where little strands of blonde hair have dried, and takes in the smell of her. Her faces scrunches at him again and he wants to go change and wash up so she'll stop looking at him like that but he can't bare to put her down. Even after you've settled back in the bed and the nurses have cleared out, Nico knows you want to hold her but he still takes his sweet time handing her over.

You look so sweet, so motherly when you hold her to your chest and softly stroke over her cheek. His chest alights with warmth, spreading throughout his veins and his eyes sting with happy tears. He wants to remember this forever. He fumbles for his phone, fingers shaky as he snaps a picture of you smiling widely at her. You look up at him, eyes wet with tears but so unfathomably happy and you say, "she has your nose Neeks."

She does, he realizes, taking in the sharpness of it. Your nose doesn't look like that and while his is a bit different after breaking it, hers is so similar to his. And her blonde hair, just like him. Before he'd grown up, he too had pin straight blonde hair. He imagines her with his eyes too, big and brown, seeping off warmth everywhere they look. He thinks she's so beautiful and he hopes she has your smile because that has to be his favorite thing in the world.

Perfect, his baby girl is perfect.

Nico leaves you two alone, fishing out his clothes and the baby wipes from the bag before disappearing into the bathroom. He does his best to wipe down his body with them, wanting to hurry back to his girls but in the end decides he should just rinse off in the shower there. He forgoes the hospital body wash and conditioner, simply washing his matted hair because he wants her to know what he usually smells like, not some cheap unmarked bottle stuff. He should've asked Jack to grab his bathroom stuff but it's too late now.

Toweling off and redressing in sweats and a t-shirt, Nico combs his fingers through his wet hair and let's it air dry. He put on more deodorant, forgetting the cologne because what if she doesn't like it or has some kind of reaction to it? No he'd rather her think he smells bad.

You let him hold her again when he comes back, moving over so he can squish on the bed next to you and this time when he presses her to his chest, she leans into him, lips smacking quietly as she settles in comfortably. He laughs, shaking his head because she's unable to utter a word but he already knows she's got your same little attitude.

"Nurse came by, said the boys are about to break down the doors to get in here." You say quietly. Nico laughs again, decides he should probably go get whoever's gathered out there so he hands her back to you.

"Wait," you stop him before he can get to the door, "hand me the baby bag please."

He fishes it out from the little storage closet, setting it on the end of the bed and helping you dig through it because he knows you're tired and sore. You pull out a little black beanie with a glittery Devils logo on the front, removing the pink one they put on her head and sliding the new one on. Nico tucks everything away again, taking just a second to look at you and her. You beam at him.

"She's very proud of her dad."

Nico kisses you, a real kiss this time instead of those mushy pecks he gave you earlier. Then he presses a flittering kiss to her head, promising to be back soon before he leaves to gather Jack and the others.

The lobby is packed with hockey players, squished onto the couches, hugging their knees on the floor as they chatter quietly. Nico overhears Jack talking about seeing them earlier, poking fun at how nervous Nico looked. He sneaks up behind him, grabs him by the shoulders and Jack jumps, whirling around to look at him. Nico laughs, not even getting a chance to say anything before his friend is jumping at him. He wraps his arms around him, beaming as the others rise to their feet and join in on the hug. They're all shaking him and patting his head.

"How are we feeling captain daddy?" Wood teases, ruffling his hair. Someone pinches his cheek, comments on his puffy eyes and he shrugs it off.

"Feeling like I just had the best night of my life." He admits and they cheer again. Nico gets them all to settle down and split into to two groups. He doesn't want to overwhelm you or the baby and he doubts he can bring in 15 people. The first group calmly follows him through the hall and to the room, all of them growing quite as they lightly tread into the room in a line.

You smile at everyone as they come in, the baby still cradled to your chest and Jesper is the first to tip toe over, a bouquet of balloons and a teddy bear in his hand. He sets them on the tray next to you, looking at Nico nervously.

"You can say hi," Nico chuckles and you motion Jesper closer, instructing him on how to cradle her. She barely fusses as he holds her, eyes widening and he smiles giddily at Nico. Seeing her in his arms draws the others closer and they set up a stack of cards next to the balloons, Timo settling in the chair next to you and asking about how you're doing. Jesper slowly walks down the line, letting everyone look at her.

Dawson gets a glimpse at her before his head shoots up to look at Nico. "She looks just like you!" He exclaims, loud enough that the baby stirs in Jesper's arm and he freezes. Nico laughs, walks over and reaches in to smooth his thumb over her scrunched nose. She settles back down, but Jesper's freaked enough that he eagerly hands her off to a wide eyed Jack.

"Poor kid," Jack teases, "hopefully she gets her mom's personality or she's screwed." But tears have welled in his eyes and he's staring at her so enthralled that Nico knows Jack already loves her. In fact, they're all looking at her like she's made of precious gems.

Trusting them to be careful, Nico takes Timo's seat next to you. You reach out for his hand and he holds between both of his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"You've got a good group there Captain," you say, looking over as Jack shows Woodsy how to hold her head. He grins, unbelievably happy and content in the moment. He hasn't even had a chance to think about the fact that he's moving on to the next round of the playoffs yet. But all that matters right now is his family. He can think about the game later.

"She's already got them whipped into shape." He murmurs, laughing when Woodsy moves a little too fast and she gurgles unhappily, halting him. Dougie scolds him, taking her from his arms with a disappointed shake of his head.

Jack comes over, squishes himself into the chair with Nico even though it means he's sitting half on his lap. You laugh when he wiggles his hand in alongside Nico's, fingers holding both of yours.

"Congrats mom and dad," Jack says, "I've been waiting for a baby sister. All I got was Luke."

"Where is Luke?"

He snickers. "I left him at home."

You gasp but laugh, releasing their hands to shove him. Nico shakes his head, knowing he's going to have to text the younger Hughes brother and let him know he can stop by whenever he wants.

Timo's the last to meet her, blowing little kisses at her and smiling. "Hey little captain," he whispers, just loud enough for Nico to hear. "hope you like it here because you just got stuck with the whole team."

You and Nico look around, notice that everyone is still squished around Timo watching her. They're like moths to a flame following her, inching closer to the bed when Timo hands her to Nico. Jack moves over, perches by your feet so Nico has room to hold her and be close to you.

"You didn't tell us her name," Dougie says, looking between you and Nico. The two of you had been stuck between two different names but now that she's here the decision is clear. Nico was hesitant of it at first, thought it'd be too cliche or something but she's decided for herself.

"It's Jersey," you say with an amused smile. What other name could you give the baby that had done summersaults in your belly during games and decided she wanted to join the world during her father's game and has the whole team smitten with her.

"Jersey Leeds Hischier." Nico adds and the boys all soak it in, tease him a bit for being so sentimental but he doesn't care. This is his home, it's given him everything, and no matter what happens next round or next year or in ten years from now, he wants to remember everything Jersey has given him.

[scoops-aboy86]

Realize You’re Living (Secret Admirer pt 5)

Steddie Week 2024, July 5: Reunion / exes to lovers or getting back together / Wasted Years by Iron Maiden

Sorry. Not for the delay in posting, I just think I'm gonna get yelled at for reasons.

wc: 2815 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

There isn’t time to send Steve another letter before Friday. 

There isn’t time, not through the mail, and there’s no way Eddie is risking physically putting something in the Harrington’s mailbox himself. That would mean running the risk of someone finding out, and that still ignites an old fear in the most primal part of his brain that screams at him to run. No matter who it is. 

On the other hand, standing Steve up for their phone date is not an option. The very idea makes his insides freeze over. They’ve both had to reassure each other that they want to continue this epistolary romance, Jesus H. Christ—there’s been too much hot and cold already to pull something like that. 

Eddie rolls over on his bed to lay face down and screams into his pillow. It's like they’re in a relationship, except Steve doesn’t even know who he is. It's absurd. An absolute clown town of his own making.

Okay. Okay, no, he can do this. (Can he?) All he has to do is relax and stay calm until tomorrow night. He’ll call at 10:30 on the dot and play Steve some Iron Maiden or something, maybe a little Dio, a smidge of Black Sabbath, throw in a dash of Judas Priest… Basically play the guy a mix tape, live. 

He whips his head up and all but dives for his side table, looking for the tin where he keeps his weed. It’ll help him chill out enough to come up with a song list. And he needs all the chill he can get. He’s lost his mom to cancer, his dad to addiction and prison, and his childhood home with them—he refuses to lose Steve if he has even half a chance of actually having Steve. Because if this whole secret admirer thing is going where he hardly dares to hope it is, this could be the most important mix tape of his entire goddamn life. 

Steve spends all of Friday so on edge that Robin starts threatening to drop banana peels in the circuit he keeps pacing behind the counter. 

“What is with you today, dingus?”

He stops, tapping his foot restlessly and removing his hat so he can rake a hand through his hair. “Nothing, nothing, I… have an important call tonight, is all. I think.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Oooh, is it a pretty girl?” she teases.

“Maybe,” he mutters with a halfhearted shrug. He really still doesn’t know, and it doesn’t seem likely he’ll find out tonight. “I’m not even sure they’ll call. It’s… kind of a blind date sort of thing.”

“A blind phone date?” Robin looks like she doesn’t know what to do with that, which. Fair. “Is that a thing?”

Steve shrugs again. He goes back to pacing. “It might be. I’ll find out tonight I guess.”

She gives him a minute before butting in again, spraying more Windex on the display case to get the lunch rush’s grubby child fingerprints off the cool glass. “...Is this because of the board?”

Again, Steve stops. “What?”

“The You Rule / You Suck board. Have I accidentally degraded your confidence in yourself so much that you’ve turned to blind dates as an alternative to trying to seduce any and every girl who walks in here?” 

Her tone is flippant, but because they’ve been on better terms recently—especially since Steve started offering her rides (and let her take control of the tape deck after that time she threatened to throw all of his Wham! tapes out the window)—he decides to take it as a genuine question. 

“No. Well—No, it’s more the hat than that. It messes up my best feature, you know?” He runs a hand through his hair again, fluffing it up more, then slumps against the back counter next to the milkshake blenders with a sigh. “It’s kind of a pen pal thing. We’ve been talking for a while but we haven’t met, but… I think it might be going somewhere good.”

Robin stops her bored polishing of the display case, only half of the afternoon rush’s smudges and fingerprints wiped away, to laugh with a slight shake of her head. “Oh wow, King Steve is a romantic. Who knew?”

“Not me before junior year, that’s for sure,” he scoffs honestly. 

She studies him thoughtfully for a moment. “Makes sense. Kind of lines up with something I heard the other day, when—”

But then they’re interrupted by a couple strolling in for some ice cream. Robin rushes through cleaning the rest of the glass so as to get out of their way, and Steve scoops and rings them up while she moves on to wiping down tables, conversation forgotten. 

Eddie’s finished his playlist and his plan is to call early. Not too early, just… a minute, five minutes tops. His uncle leaves for work before 10, so he has plenty of time and he’s buzzing with nervous energy. 

Way too much nervous energy to carry into the Big Call tonight. 

By the time Wayne is out the door, Eddie’s already started on rolling a joint and rereading Steve’s letters from start to current. If he’d been smart he would’ve written out copies of his own for a more complete read, that in depth analysis his English teachers never shut up about… but alas. 

Usually his memory is pretty good, especially when it comes to his own work. He also hadn’t expected this to go on as long as it had; not really. But now he can hardly imagine what it would be like to know Steve only from a distance anymore and that… colors things. Fuck only knows what he’s remembering wrong because of a simple difference in perspective. 

Because Steve has let him in, Eddie acknowledges as he lines the weed up on the paper. He’s written things about his home life, about his old friends, and definitely about his injuries over the past couple years (though oddly enough never much about what actually caused them) that Eddie would bet good money that no one else knows, if only because Steve doesn’t seem to have anyone else to tell. Maybe those kids he babysits (begrudgingly but genuinely dotes on, Eddie’s seen it from a distance). But really, how much can you realistically talk to a thirteen year old? Eddie remembers being thirteen; he hadn’t listened to anyone for shit. It was a miracle Wayne hadn’t just released him into the woods like a wild animal. 

And all Eddie’s been doing is pulling Steve close, while steadfastly keeping him out. God. 

He licks the joint to seal it, lights up, and keeps rereading. 

Steve is standing by the phone in his kitchen watching the second hand on the clock. How it sneaks around the clock face, slow but steady, until it laps the 12 line and it’s 10:31. 

He slumps back against the kitchen island with a groan. That had been an absolutely excruciating minute, and he’s staring down the barrel of another fifty-nine more until he can reasonably give up hope. Because anything under an hour is just running late, right? Something could have come up, something unavoidable like… family coming home unexpectedly, making a private conversation impossible. 

… Okay, maybe that was a stress dream he’d had last night about his parents, but something like it could happen to anyone.

10:32. The second hand barely makes it past fifteen this time before the silence is split by the shriek of ringing in the otherwise silent house. Steve multitasks, jumping out of his skin and lunging to answer the phone at the same time.

“HelloHarringtonresidence, thisisStevehowcanIhelpyou?” he rushes out. 

There’s no response except breathing on the other end of the line, which would be creepy if it weren’t exactly what he was hoping for. 

(Eddie is pressing a hand over his mouth, keeping in an equal parts amused and disbelieving laugh at how Steve had answered the phone, all flustered and cute and overly formal in an automatic sort of way that suggests an ingrained habit. From what he knows about Steve’s parents, he’s not terribly surprised, but it’s still such a delightfully dorky greeting.

And it seems like Steve really was waiting by the phone for his call, which makes Eddie want to fucking dance.)

“Is that you?” After a second, a light bulb goes off in Steve’s head and he adds, “Oh. Uh, tap once for yes, twice for no?”

It takes a few seconds, but then he hears a single tap against the plastic of the other receiver. 

(Smart, Eddie would tell him if he could. If he dared. He sucks hard on the last of his joint before letting the smoke billow from his nose like a dragon and putting it out in the ashtray by his bed. Maybe he mashes it in a little harder than necessary, blaming it for being late even though that’s really just another one of his bad habits at this point.)

Relief breaks over Steve like a wave. “Oh my god, it’s you. You’re the, um, my secret admirer?”

Tap. 

(Yeah sweetheart, it’s me.)

Steve does a little bounce on the balls of his feet and pumps his fist, too giddy to feel stupid about it with no one watching. “Holy shit. I mean, t-thanks for calling. Sorry, my parents make me answer the phone like that.” 

Nothing. 

(Eddie is smiling. Beaming, really. I figured, he imagines saying. At first it makes his heart feel full just thinking about it, but then has to stop that line of thought before his anxiety conjures up all the ways Steve Harrington, until recently Hawkins High’s resident ladies man, might react to the surprise of being on a phone date with a guy. Jesus, how is he high and still so nervous?)

“Right, you can’t answer. I mean, you can, if you want, but you don’t have to. This is, this is to see how I like your music.” Steve rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Did you want to play something for me now, or…”

Tap. 

(All the tapes are on standby, spread out in chaotic order around the second-hand player he got last year after Wayne’s old one crapped out on him. Eddie cranks up the volume as high as it’ll go; he’s used to it, the neighbors are resigned to it, and Steve won’t be able to hear it well enough to count through the phone otherwise.)

The first song starts, and Steve twists the phone cord between his fingers as he stands in his kitchen and listens. There’s a heavy beat and a noticeable bass line, even over the phone, nothing like the pop rock he usually listens to. But…

“… I definitely didn’t hate it,” he says once the last notes fade out. 

(Eddie is vibrating as he hits pause and ejects the tape, elated, a few of his worries already soothed. Steve doesn’t hate metal. That doesn’t necessarily mean Steve will like him, but it’s got to make the odds at least a little better, right? He wants to say fuck yeah or I love you or, fucking… shriek wordlessly or something, but presses his hand over his cotton-dry mouth instead, hard enough that his gums ache a little.)

“It kind of reminded me of AC/DC? Like Back in Black, or Hells Bells.”

(They’re not one of Eddie’s favorites, didn’t even make the playlist. But they’re harder rock than he expected Steve to be familiar with, and suddenly he has a wild urge to know what the guy thinks of You Shook Me All Night Long.)

“One time, the radio played Big Balls in the car and my mom literally clutched her pearls and said, ‘I don’t think he’s talking about ballroom dancing, Richard!’” 

(Eddie grins as the funny little falsetto Steve put on for the impression fades into a rich laugh, like he’s so tickled by the memory that he can’t help it. There was probably some appalled, classic white-anglo-saxon-protestant-sucking-on-a-lemon expression on her face that he’s picturing, while Eddie can only imagine. It’s okay, Eddie is too busy wanting to pour Steve’s laugh into a bathtub and soak in it.)

Tap. 

“Yeah, really not,” Steve agrees, his cheeks almost aching from smiling so wide. He feels lighter than air just knowing he’s on the phone with the person who’s been writing to him the past couple months, knowing he’s proving that they’re genuinely at least a little bit compatible. “So, what’s the next song?”

It goes on like that. Steve doesn’t know the artists or albums or track titles, but figures that Secret Admirer will fill him in with the next letter. There are a couple of songs that are more shouting than singing for his taste—“I like songs I can sing along to once I know the words, you know? Really belt out in the car after a long day, or something,” he explains, and gets a yes tap in response. 

(Eddie has to improvise. Instead of another WASP song, he reaches for an Iron Maiden tape he’d put aside as a half-assed backup and scours the track list, trying to decide… Ah, that one. He pops it in and turns the volume down for a second so he can check that he’s fast forwarding to the right spot on the tape.

This one’s for you, sweetheart, he thinks, lighting a second joint—not for nerves this time, but just for fun. He leans back and lets the smoke fill his lungs, fill his mind, send him floating off to whatever time of that big house Steve is curled up in so he can spiritually throw an arm around the other guy’s shoulders.)

Steve likes the instrumentals in the intro of this one. He doesn’t really track the words at first once they start—usually doesn’t, on a first listen-through, with so much new to take in. But he starts catching on to the shape of them by the first of what turns out to be the chorus. 

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years

Too much time on my hands, I got you on my mind Can't ease this pain so easily When you can't find the words to say, hard to make it through another day And it makes me wanna cry, throw my hands up to the sky

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years, hey!

He listens, slowly untangling himself from the long phone cord and taking a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. When the song finally fades out and he hears the far-off click of the tape being stopped and taken out, he asks hopefully, “It’s about seizing the day, right?”

Maybe they’re building up to telling him who they are, or at least giving him a little more. 

(Eddie freezes, not expecting Steve—who had told him he didn’t get things on the first try—to venture any insights. Especially on a song that hadn’t been on his list, a last minute change-up that he’d picked with the transformation from King Steve to just normal guy Steve in mind and how Steve seems so hung up on apologizing for the douchebag he used to be. 

Or at least, used to be on the outside. Every day, Eddie gets a little less sure that persona went much further than skin-deep.

A tiny sound curls out of Eddie’s throat, a barely audible, inquisitive hum. Something that says please, keep going. He knows Steve has heard it because of the quick intake of breath over the line.)

Steve clutches the handset so hard that his knuckles go white. It’s the first sound, the first crumb that Secret Admirer has given him that’s really them, not a tap on plastic or other people’s music. Too quiet to make out any distinguishing features, but it’s something. 

It feels like everything. 

“You could, you know,” Steve says softly. “You could… make a stand? If you told me who you are, or just anything more about you, I… I really like you. I know for sure that I want to know you. Maybe that makes me a romantic sap, but it’s true. What if we find out we could have our golden years right now?”

(Eddie is freaking out. The mellow of his high isn’t helping anymore, all the floaty syrupy hopefulness of it stripped away. Oh fuck oh balls oh shit, shit, shit!

He’s hyperventilating, knows Steve can probably hear it, and he’s nothing but a goddamn coward in the end.

He can't do this.)

There’s a single clunk, and then all Steve hears is dial tone.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

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@dolphincliffs

[wolfjackle-creates]

broski I beg of u to tell me about your Danny is Clark’s nephew wip im so intrigued

@hailsatanacab also asked about this one! I shared two snippets for them so check out Part 1 and Part 2. (about 900 words total between the two asks.)

This was inspired by the discussion on a prompt you made ages ago, actually! Here's the post. The main prompt isn't the inspiration, however. It was the comment about Danny joining the JL and [insert spiderman meme here].

Let's see if I have anything I can add. (I changed things enough when posting the first bits that everything else I have doesn't fit anymore.)

Eh, fine. Just went through and wrote another 600 words.

-----

Danny winced. “Yes, Uncle Cl— Kal. Uncle Kal.” Danny glanced next to him and realized Constantine had moved several feet away and was deliberately trying to not attract attention. He bit back a smile and pulled on the Prince Phantom persona Queen Dora had forced him to learn. “Thank you for your assistance, Laughing Magician. I now declare our deal complete and will make no further claims on you.” He waved his hand producing a piece of parchment which he handed over. “As promised, your payment.”

Constantine grabbed the paper and backed away quickly. “Great. Glad to do business with you, your highness. Hope your family reunion goes well. I’ll just—” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, then changed something and disappeared through a portal even as several of the League members present tried to yell at him to stop.

Danny rolled his eyes as he fell back into his more relaxed demeanor. “Oh, please. What more did you want from him? I’ll talk to Uncle Kal and he can decide what is important to pass on. Magician Constantine already told you most of what he knows.”

“Just… come on, Danny,” said Uncle Clark. “We need to talk.”

---

Finding a place to talk to Danny wasn’t the problem, Clark quickly realized. Shaking off his coworkers, however… Bruce in particular did not want to be left out. And Wally was too curious to be put off.

“Danny?” called Clark when he realized the kid wasn’t with him.

“By the viewing window,” said Bruce. “He seems to enjoy the view.”

“Right. Should’ve guessed.” Clark cursed himself silently for forgetting how much the kid loved space. “Batman, please. I know you like to know everything. But can I just talk to my nephew alone? I’ll explain everything I can after, but I need to know how this situation could’ve happened in my own family without my knowledge first without you being there inserting Opinions.”

“Very well. I’ll collect Flash and we’ll leave the two of you alone. But I expect a full report after.”

“I’ll make a peach cobbler, Ma’s recipe, and head to the Manor tomorrow to tell you everything.”

“I’ll let Nightwing know.”

Clark sighed. “I’ll make two cobblers.”

Bruce’s lips twitched upward, but he turned without saying anything more. “Flash! Since this matter is going to be delayed, I believe you still have to file your report on the incident last week.”

Clark chuckled as Flash protested. But he didn’t listen to their discussion, instead joining Danny by the viewing window. He settled an arm around his nephew’s shoulders. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“I can’t believe you get to come up here and look out at the stars any time you want.”

“I don’t get up here as much as I’d like, I’m afraid. And when I am up here, it’s because something somewhere is going wrong so I don’t get to appreciate it as much as I’d like to.”

“So, if you’re an alien, does that mean Dad’s an alien, too? Is that why he is the way he is? Am I part alien?”

Clark laughed and ruffled Danny’s hair. Like this, it felt almost insubstantial, like passing his hand through mist. “Fraid not, kid. No one knows why your dad is the way he is. I can’t remember how often he was tested for the meta gene.”

“Once a year every year from the time he was six until he was twenty-two and graduated undergrad and started living on his own. Then he stopped for a few years. Until he started dating Mom. He accidentally broke her apartment door once and she insisted he get tested again.”

Clark wanted to laugh, but all he could remember was Danny’s earlier statement. “Danny… Are you…safe with your parents?”

-----

Again, anyone is free to continue this! If anyone wants, I can combine everything into one post to make it easier to do so.

[scififettuccine]

A Wild Fix: Part 1.5?

Pairing: Platonic!Butcher x Supe!Reader

Summary: 3 weeks into your alliance with The Boys, you and Butcher go through the Vought Database. Butcher being curious about a Supe he's never heard of leads him to put together a plan that's less than safe. But does he listen to your warnings? Of course not.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Exposition, mentions of casinos, mention of suicide

Notes: Hey ya'll! Long time no see! You're probably wondering what the fuck this is. As you may have noticed I haven't posted anything in a few days. This is because when I got into writing Part 2, it became A LOT more complex and involved than I intended, including new characters and a sharp left turn in the story line that I didn't plan. Considering the results from the pole, I figured no one would really be mad if I did this. Part 1.5 is A LOT of exposition, setting up the actual second installment of the series. I could have made Part 2 longer, but it was way past how many words I wanted to have in each installment. I didn't want to call this an actual part two, because this alone isn't long enough to qualify as its own part, so...✨1.5✨ As you can most likely tell, I'm not following the canon plot exactly, I find that to be EXTREMELY boring. I know it's something that some people don't love, but at the end of the day it's creative writing and I enjoy doing it. Here is a link to Part 1 if you missed it! The official part 2 of A Wild Fix will be out very soon, but for now, enjoy this expositional interlude from our good lad, William Butcher.

It was safe to say that, since your first meeting? You and Frenchie didn’t get along very well. You had been running with The Boys for almost a month now, yet the two of you couldn’t agree on a single thing. But honestly? That didn't really matter to you. He didn't seem like the kind of person you wanted to be close with, anyway.

You had adjusted pretty well to this double standard of life, working for Vought, and working with The Boys. You were very careful, and there hadn’t been any close calls…yet. As for adjusting to the basement hideout? That didn't necessarily get any easier. You had carved out a little spot for yourself in one of the less occupied corners, just big enough to set your computer down, and maybe put a cup of coffee off to the side. And at the moment, that's where you sat. Working out time to help out wasn’t very hard. You were a member of The Seven, yes, but due to your powers, you were more of an alternate. You still went to meetings, and you still lived in the tower, you just weren't sent out as much. Butcher had requested that you dig into a few things for him in the Vought database. The Vought database had become available to you since you signed the contract with the company. It didn’t contain anything majorly world shattering, just some more detailed info on every Supe that had ever been involved with the company, including deceased, and currently active Supes. The info pages almost reminded you of trading cards, you laughed to yourself at the thought. It almost made you wonder why Vought hadn’t cashed in on some sort of trading card game.

“Something funny, love?” Butcher asked. You could see him approaching from behind in the reflection of your laptop screen.

“Yeah, actually…” You said, beckoning him over. Butcher crouched down next to your chair, looking at the computer screen. “Don’t those stats kinda look like trading cards? I mean, even the way it’s set up. Surprised Vought hasn’t cashed in on that yet.” Butcher raised a brow and leaned a bit closer to the screen, letting out a small ‘hmph’ sound. 

“You’re not wrong.” He examined the screen for a moment. “So you can see every Supe that's ever been involved with the company?” You nodded.

“For the most part, yes. But usually if there's anything they need to hide, the Supe goes to whoever runs the database and asks for that piece of information to be taken off of it. It’s actually in the contract somewhere, in the fine print, if I remember.” Butcher gave a small hum of acknowledgement.

“So if I had to guess, Homelander doesn't even have a file?” He asked. You narrowed your eyes towards the screen as you clicked out of the file you were on, and searched Homelander’s name in the top bar. When the file came up, you clicked it. Low and behold…? Not much. Just his in-company stats, The Seven logo, showing his affiliation with the group, and the year he had been signed onto the company. 

“Yeah…nothing much. Most of The Seven are like this, actually. If I remember correctly…” You clicked out of Homelander’s file, and clicked on the search bar again. You went to type in ‘Maeve,’ but Butcher stopped you, placing his finger over one of the file cards on the screen.

“Who’s that bloke?” He asked. You raised a brow and moved his finger out of the way. He had been pointing to a file card for the Supe named Mixer, who belonged to a new Vought owned Supe team that had been gaining steam recently…Residency. Vought had always sort of branded it as the new age Payback, but it was more of a marketing thing. The Supes on the team were legit, powerful, and some of them popular…But it definitely wasn't anything close to Payback. Mixer, admittedly, was one of the more known Supe’s on the team. He had been a musician first, gaining popularity from his young start in the industry. And as soon as Vought could get its bloodstained hands on the poor guy? He was signed on. Now? He had a residency at Planet Vought Casino & Resort in Las Vegas, and a spot in Residency.

“That's Mixer. He’s around my age, I think…Super popular in the music industry.” You explained, clicking on his file card.

“You know’im?” He asked. You shook your head as you scrolled through his file. 

“I met him at a convention a few years back, around this time of year actually…He seemed kinda full of himself. He has a residency now, though, kinda ironic, at Vought’s casino in Las Vegas.” You explained. Butcher nodded, clearly thinking.

“How is it ironic?” He asked.

“Mixer is part of a Supe team too, but the team is called Residency. So I thought it was kinda funny that he had an actual residency-” Butcher cut you off.

“Another Supe team? Owned by Vought?” You nodded.

“Yeah. It's him, Klepto, Bloodshot, Laugh Track, Void-” Butcher cut you off again, before you could even finish naming the members.

“The convention you met him at…Was it a Supe convention?” 

“Yeah. But not like the crazy fan ones. It's by invite only. All of Voughts Supes go, it’s a huge event. They invite new, upcoming Supes, and Vought investors. It’s a 3 day affair. They usually hold it at the Casino location that's here in the city, though, not the one in Vegas.” You turned your head to look at him, narrowing your eyes. What was he thinking?

“You said it was around this time of year?” He asked, turning the laptop towards himself so he could scroll.

“Yeah, usually towards the middle of fall…Why do you ask?” You raised a brow.

“I’m assuming you're invited?” He asked, the smirk on his face growing.

“Yeah, like I said, most contracted Supes are there. Annie is going too, we kinda have to…You’re not thinking what I think you are…right?” You asked, narrowing your eyes once again.

“That's exactly what I’m thinking, love.” He chuckled and stood up. “A whole casino full of Supes and Vought officials? That's practically an information gold mine. And with your connections? We’re bound to uncover something. Do you get a plus one or anythin like’at?”

“I’m pretty sure contracted Supes get two guest passes, but this is out of the question, Butcher. Digging at a Vought run Supe convention? It’s suicide for anyone involved.” You said, closing your computer. This wasn't a good idea, not even in the slightest.

“So if both you and Hughie’s girl go, that's four guest passes between the two of you?” He asked.

“Yes but-” Butcher cut you off before you could protest.

“Just enough passes for Hughie, MM, Frenchie, and meself. It’s settled, then, love.” Butcher gave a smug smile and patted your shoulder. You cringed internally. Butcher wouldn’t take no for an answer…and you didn’t favor the idea of being on his bad side.

 If you were caught, no, if any of you were caught snooping around at this convention? You’d be dead before you could leave the building…or worse.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And that's the end of my exposition bomb. Again, Part 2 is coming very soon, and I'm sorry that I had to break it up like this. This series became more involved than intended, as you can probably see. More information regarding Residency and its significance is to come👀 Stay tuned to get back to your regularly scheduled Frenchie x Reader content <3 Adieu!

teeny tiny taglist: @llynx7 @stinkysam

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 16

Hello! This story is back and will be for at least the next two weeks. After that I will be taking a two week break in posting so that I can have a good backlog again. Moving and vacation absolutely destroyed the nearly 20 chapters I had waiting in the wings. I went from 18 to 8 and while I am up above 10, it's not much above 10 (as of right now? 11).

I have four stories going on right now and the goal is to get at least four chapters each so I can have 16 in my backlog. So from Aug 18th, to the 31st, I won't be posting any chapters from any of my stories. I will still post ideas, meta, headcanon et al, but no story updates.

Anyway back to your regularly scheduled metal band Steve!

In this we find out what happened to Barb and why it drove a rift between Steve and Nancy, more about how the bands formed, and Vickie gets a feel for her new clients.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

~

Steve spent the night with Eddie after that horrible day he had. Once everyone had gone home and it was just Steve and Eddie, Steve curled up on Eddie’s chest and held on for dear life.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Eddie cooed, running his fingers through Steve’s hair, gently scratching his scalp. “When I suggested her I didn’t realize she still held a grudge against you after all these years.”

He let out a long shuddering breath. “Our breakup was entirely her fault. When Barb used my party to runaway with her boyfriend, a boyfriend no one even knew she had by the way, Nancy was so sure that she had been trafficked. That Will just wasn’t kidnapped, but there was a ring of child abductors taking anyone they could get their hands on.”

“As if that’s how that works,” Eddie said rolling his eyes.

“Right?” Steve huffed. “Anyway, she went on this one woman crusade to bring Barb Holland home. Even after Will Byers was kidnapped by a guy who thought he was his son. I tried to be supportive because Barb just up and leaving was scary for everyone. She was making me put out fliers and dragging me to dinners with Barb’s parents. They even hired a private investigator to find her. Had to sell their house to cover it all.”

“So what happened?”

“Finally the PI found her,” Steve murmured, “living in Florida on some beach somewhere, having the time of her life, not even caring about her family and friend thinking she was dead. But by the time they found her she was eighteen and they couldn’t do anything about it.”

Eddie winced and pulled Steve even closer. “What about the guy? How old was he?”

“Twenty-five.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Come again? Couldn’t they have gotten him for kidnapping and statutory rape?”

“They couldn’t prove he was the guy she had run off with and for all they knew they got together after she turned eighteen,” Steve explained, picking at the blanket absently.

“I guess I’m just not seeing how this was any of your fault,” Eddie admitted dryly. “It sounds like it was Barb’s fault.”

Steve let out another sigh. “It was my fault because I took Nancy’s attention away from her friend when she needed her the most and Jonathan knew what it was like, not knowing when a loved one was ever going to come home. That he was sensitive and caring. That he wouldn’t beg for one night of being a teenager and go to some Halloween party.”

“Ouch,” Eddie said with grimace. This was sounding worse and worse for Nancy. He couldn’t believe he had ever trusted her.

“She was already cheating on me before the party,” Steve said, finally looking up into Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie pulled him onto his lap and kissed the top of his head. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“Do you want to know what her excuse was?” Steve said with a scoff. “It was because I was just phoning it in and that I really didn’t care about her, about Barb, that I was just some self-centered jerk. As if that absolves her cheating.”

“You’ve never just phoned anything in in your life, sweetheart,” Eddie said fiercely. “You are always one hundred percent passionate about everything you do. Even crappy jobs like Scoops Ahoy and the coffee shop.”

Steve looked up at Eddie with a soft smile. “Those were the two best jobs I’ve ever had, because if I hadn’t done them, I wouldn’t have been able to do this one.”

“How’s that, honey?” Eddie asked after giving him a kiss on the temple.

“The first one is where I met Robin and the second is where I met Simon, Shane, and Spence.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “That’s definitely one way to pick up friends.”

“Well, we all can’t have the good fortune to have met in middle school and never break up ever,” Steve snarked.

“Wait until I tell you that Gareth isn’t our first drummer and we used to have a different bassist, too.”

Steve shot up and looked Eddie in the eye. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he said shaking his head. “Our first bassist was Doug Teague and our first drummer was a girl named Ronnie Eckers. Ronnie’s parents forced her stop the band after the middle school talent show when I threw up the devil’s horns and they thought it was a gang sign.” Steve chuckled. “And Dougie, Dougie wasn’t made for fame and fortune. He wanted a simple life with a white picket fence and 2.5 children. He sent Brian a message when we put out our first single saying that it was Brian’s addition to the band that was the reason we made it big. Brian printed it out and has it taped to the inside of his bass case.”

“Holy shit,” Steve whispered. “I never knew. I thought you guys were like The Struts or whatever and never changed band members ever.”

Eddie smiled. “I’m glad you think we have that kind of chemistry, but no. It’s been a bit trial and error before we got this far.”

Steve snuggled back into Eddie’s chest and he wrapped his arms around his waist. “I hope we never have to swap someone out,” he murmured. “Otherwise we’re going to have to hunt down someone with the same initial as the rest of us and probably even snipe the leaving member for good measure.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “That would make for some very interesting entertainment, that’s for sure.” He suddenly straightened up. “Wait. Is that why all your onstage personas begin with an A? Because your real names all begin with an S?”

He looked down at Steve, who was trying not to laugh. “Oh my god! It is! That is fucking hilarious! And no one has ever put two and two together?”

“Nope!”

Eddie just shook his head. “I think it’s classism. The reason they haven’t put two and two together. Why would two rich pretty boys fallen on hard times form a band with two blue collar boys? They just can’t fathom the idea that people from all walks of life can be friends.”

“Simon and my families still can’t understand how we can hang out with you and Robin and the rest of our friends,” Steve agreed. “But I fear that our friends might be playing into it too. That Stupid Steve and Flighty Robin who have always had low paying jobs couldn’t possibly be an international rockstar and his fashion plate manager.”

Eddie sighed. He wanted to refute that, but just last week Steve had gotten a call from Dustin who had spent most of the call berating Steve for not having any ambition. And even some of the nicer kids had expressed concerns that their friends didn’t want to be more than peons at some fancy record label.

Never mind that Steve said he loved his job and being able to work along side his friends was the dream. Steve explained it as doing what he loved no matter how much it paid him, but they couldn’t see that.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Eddie cooed. “Let’s get a shower and then go to bed. It’s been a long day for everyone and we need the rest.”

Steve nodded and got up to pad over to the en suite bathroom. Eddie followed close behind. They merely showered, taking care of each other and then got slowly ready for bed.

Eddie slipped under the covers first and then held out his arms out for Steve. Steve wordlessly went willingly into his boyfriend’s arms, knowing that Eddie would be there for him come morning.

They snuggled under the covers and slipped silently into the warm embrace of slumber.

~

Vickie was working out great and had set up a meeting with Steve and Eddie to go over their relationship status.

“I understand you won’t be able to go public with your relationship for awhile is that correct?” she asked once they got settled into her office, her choosing not to do the meeting in public.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “I have a history of bad relationships and Steve can’t be out as Abbadon which would make sense public wise.”

Steve nodded.

“Would you want Abbadon and Eddie to come out as a couple at some point?” Vickie asked, shifting the papers on her desk.

Eddie and Steve shared a glance. But Steve shook his head.

“I want Eddie and Steve to be the couple that everyone knows about,” he muttered. “It’s completely selfish of me but I want to look at publications, tabloids, sound bites and all that other shit and know it’s not me they see with Eddie, but Abbadon. The much cooler one.”

Vickie nodded. “But you two were friends before the fame and during, right?”

“Yeah, we were friends in high school,” Eddie agreed, his knee beginning to bounce. “We somehow stayed friends through the first couple of years I was out in LA for that first record. And then Steve and Robin moved out to Pasadena. Which I thought was because our young friend Dustin got into school out there–”

“But it was because he got his own record contract?” Vickie supplied.

Steve nodded and rested his hand on Eddie’s knee to calm him. “Yeah. It was a great excuse, our friend’s mom has always been over protective due to a disease he has. I don’t know if people are expecting us to move out to Boston when he graduates and goes to MIT, but that was never the plan.”

“I think Steve was saying that as long as they are masked,” Eddie put his hand over Steve’s on his knee, “that he didn’t want to come out as a couple.”

Vickie leaned her elbows on her desk and clasped her hands together. “I see here that you and Shane are having your personas Abbadon and Astraeus are coming out as bisexual and gay respectively, is that correct?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, rubbing his thumb over Eddie’s hand, for his comfort or Eddie’s, he wasn’t sure. “That’s another reason for wanting to wait on coming out as a couple.”

“You’re worried about the fallout?” she probed gently. Steve nodded. “That’s fine. That’s what I’m here for. For the first twenty four hours after you’ve gone live on your coming out, I will keep track of all your phones so that you aren’t reacting to a gut punch right out of the gate.”

“But Celeste and Eddie will still have their phones?” Steve asked, rearing his head back in confusion.

Vickie cocked her head to the side. “Robin will need her phone, but I can’t take Eddie’s. Not unless he wants me to.”

Eddie grinned and stretched out, putting his hands behind his head. “I can’t promise I’ll be good, but I know how far to take things now.”

Vickie nodded. She had expected that to be his answer. And if she was honest even to herself, she wanted Eddie standing up for Abbadon. Because Eddie had already handled his coming out and would be seen as a powerful ally.

“Even if you aren’t publicly friends,” she said, “Eddie defending Abbadon is publicity money just can’t buy.”

They talked for a little while longer until they finally wrapped it all up. As they walked out of Vickie’s office to Eddie’s Jag, he got a phone call.

“‘Ello?” he greeted. “Hey Dr. Owens.”

He stopped and held up a finger to Steve as he listened. “That’s great news.”

He listened again. “Yeah, of course. Um...” he paused. “It’s not like I doubt you or anything, but after last time...”

Eddie rounded his shoulders as he repeated, “Uh-huh. Of course,” over and over.

Steve reached out and took his free hand in his. He gave it a comforting squeeze and Eddie’s shoulders got a little less rounded, now that Steve was holding him.

“Yeah, talk to you soon,” Eddie said. “Bye.” He turned to Steve. “How soon are you guys going be finished with your album?”

Steve blinked at him for a moment before he tilted his head to the side. “About a month or so, why?”

A slow small grin spread out over his features. “I think that will be perfect, actually.”

Steve just blinked at him in confusion.

“Gareth is being let out of rehab at the end of the month,” Eddie said gleefully. “So we can finally go on tour!”

Steve grabbed his arms and started squealing. Eddie jumped up and down with him.

It was finally happening. They were going on tour.

~

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Tag List: CLOSED MAXIMUM REACHED!

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[taffycandyqt]

Please No

You can't sleep and seek company in your misery through your best friend. However he's not at home.

Masterlist

Request Rules

OH MY GOSH IM NOT DEAD! In all honesty I haven't been super motivated lately but I started this personal project a LOOOOOOONG time ago and felt I couldn't move on to other requests before I finished it. When I started this I felt really inspired to make it solely because I feel there is simply not enough Donatello fluff in this world, especially in 03' and 12' s case. So I hope you like it!

2012 Donnie x reader

Aged up, all characters are college/older adult age, depends on how you want to read it.

Fluff, slightly angst if you really want it to be there

Fem reader

Sleeping was always a struggle for you. Logically you knew you needed sleep, physically you felt tired, but mentally you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Your body hated the idea and actually laying down and sleeping, so you went to the only person you KNEW would be up right now.

Casey Jones.

He was annoying when you first met him be he was chill enough that he grew on you pretty quickly. Not to mention that if it weren't for him you wouldn't have met your now boyfriend. You always enjoyed spending time with Donnie but trying to pin him down was hard especially since you didn't know where he lived. He didn't want you to meet his brothers just yet, says he wants time to adjust to your guys relationship before being teased. Which, fair. SO! To Casey's you went. You two usually met up at grueling times of the night so it was customary to clime up each other's fire escapes and practically break into the other person's house. You'd either scare each other awake or find the other sitting in their kitchen shoveling cereal into their mouth watching conspiracies on YouTube.

Tonight though, nothing. Like the dude up and vanished. You checked the kitchen and his room. You even went as far as to check the bathroom. THAT WAS HIS WHOLE APARTMENT! Did he have just as an abhorrent sleep schedule as you? Yes, but he never left the house to make it a strangers problem. So to ease your nerves you decided to call him, if that doesn't work, your gonna pray Donnie is awake enough to answer the phone.

One ring. Two ring. Third ring...

"This is THE Casey Jones." You breathed out a sigh of relief. He isn't kidnapped, dead, or lying in a ditch high of weed somewhere.

"Hey man, just dropped by your place, where you at?"

"Oooooh, one of those nights huh?"

"Isn't it always?"

"heh, I feel ya. Here I'll text you my location so we can chill." after that you heard talking from the other side of the phone. Someone that wasn't Casey. But before you could ask any questions Casey quickly responded to whatever it was that they said.

"SHUT UP! ILL KICK YOUR BUTT INTO NEXT WEEK, BUD!" ending with extra sass on the 'bud'.

That's when you got his text. Perfect!

---

Orrrr not. You swear you followed the directions exactly, so why are you standing in the middle of an alleyway being told to go forward when THERE IS NO FORWARD! Being the reasonable person you are you blamed it all on Casey and let him know of your little predicament.

And, 'wait there, just a sec was his reply.' You didn't think Casey would be the kind of person to plot someone else's demise. Not that he he hasn't caused someone else's demise, he just doesn't have the forethought to think ahead about it. However this whole, standing in an alley in New York at 2 am alone, is really starting to feel like a plot.

Once again, your nerves started rising. You looked around the old bricks, worn with water damage and scraping and covered in graffiti. The dark distorted your surroundings making it unclear if you were really alone in that alley or not. The stench of the trash bags shoved as close to the corners and walls as possible started to get to you. Your breathing got a little heavier. The ominous lighting from the street lamp didn't help either. Then a sound rose above the scampering feet of rats. You turn to see the man hole cover slowly scrap along the concrete as a large gloved hand shoved it away. The darkness of the alley clouded the figure and with the covering gone the hole left seemed like a endless pool of inky nothingness. You were stiff as a board and you could hear your heart thrashing in your ears. This is it. This is where you die and it's all Casey Jones's fault.

"Hey you did make it! Nice!"

Your threw a scrapped can square at his face.

"Ow!"

"CASEY! YOU SCARED ME!"

"Yo chill! I told you I was coming to get you!"

"YOU TOLD ME TO WAIT, I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THE FRICK YOU WERE DOING! GOSH CASEY! WHAT WERE YOU EVEN DOING DOWN THERE!?"

"Hehe, come on. I'll show you," he winked at you before gesturing you to enter into the manhole first.

"No."

"Oh come on! Don't you trust me?"

"NO! Also gross. I'm not going down there just for the heck of it Casey. I have never been curious what New Yorks sewer system looks like."

"It's not about the sewers! We just have to walk through the system to get to the place," he told you mildly annoyed.

"And your purposely being suspicious about 'the place', because?"

"Because that's a surprise,"

"Oh joy. I just love surprises at 2 in the freaking morning, in the sewers, wearing my pajamas," you snarked as you lowered yourself down the manhole scowling slightly.

Casey led you through the sewers keeping a brisk pace. You asked him about the voice you hear over the phone earlier and all he told you was that it was part of the surprise. To which you rolled your eyes.

"You seem pretty confident on where your walking," you remarked.

"Well I sure hope so!" he laughed to himself, "I've only been coming here since highschool."

Him saying that struck a possible idea of what his "surprise" could be. But you couldn't be sure.

You initially met Casey in college. Not that he went to collage, he just crashed a class that you shared with his friend. He called her red, talked about her a lot too. You didn't really know her outside of that one class. It felt strange to know so many details about someone you've never talked to. He did mention that she was Donnies first crush but Donnie never talked about her though so you didn't really care much for that detail.

You knew that Casey had known Donnie, his brothers, and "red" since high school. He told you about their adventures all the time. Sometimes it made you feel a little disconnected, especially since the only people you ever knew from the group were Donnie and Casey. But you tried not to let that feeling get to you. It would simply take time. Besides, even if you're newer and don't know the whole group, neither Donnie or Casey ever made you feel like you weren't a part.

The thing is though, is that Casey only mentioned highschool when talking about the turtles. So while it is a loose assumption, you had an idea of what he might be planning. Part of you really hoped it wasn't what you were thinking. The other part really REALLY wanted it to be what you thought. But the majority part was to tired to care and just wanted something to do.

After a short walk you noticed the sewer transition into an abandoned subway station. That's when you heard the sounds of videogames and people. The smell of pizza lingered in the air the closer you walked to the sound. Eventually you got to the part of the station where lights lit up the dark space.

When you got to the entrance, you saw two turtles playing videogames. Pizza boxes littered the floor, some of them containing pizza, some completely empty. You were a little stunned honestly. Donnie had a genuine reason for not introducing you to his family, you didn't want to cross that line. But at the same time, you really needed a brain rotting distraction. You hesitated. But when Casey gestured you to go first through the turnstile first, that hesitation crumbled. You just wanted some pizza, was that so wrong? I mean you were already here, might as well just commit. You and Casey passed through and neither of the brothers tired to look at you. The one in red acknowledge the sound by saying,

"Welcome back Case."

"What didja need to do that you left so fast brah?" Asked the orange one.

"My best bud needed A.M. pizza, so I figured here would be the best place for her to get some," Casey told them patting your back before taking his seat next to the orange brother and picking up an abandoned controller. You followed, feeling out of place, you sat beside him.

This got reds attention.

"I'm sorry, she?" He paused the game to look over at you.

"WHAT?! CASEY WHO THE HECK IS SHE?? YOU CAN'T JUST BRING RANDOM PEOPLE DOWN HERE!"

"Dude chill out! First of all, shes not random, she's y/n," reds eye twitched, "Secondly, it's no biggie, she already knows Donnie, she's no snitch."

You smacked Casey's arm and shook your head.

"Hey! your already here aren't you?" he whined at you.

"Wait, how do you already know Donnie?" orange finally spoke up.

"Yeah, who are you anyways?" red questioned you.

"I-um. Hi, I'm y/n" you stiffly introduced.

You felt very awkward about this whole situation.

"And you know Don, how?" red reiterated impatiently.

You decided to play dumb.

"What do you mean?"

"How do you know Donnie?! Oh my gosh are you dumb?!"

"No, I get what you asked, but in what way?"

"THE FRICK DO YOU MEAN 'IN WHAT WAY?' HOW DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER?!"

You both went back and forth like that for a while. Little did you know that this was Casey's plan all along. He had talked to Donnie about introducing you the family but he always said it "wasn't the right time". You and Donnie had been dating for almost a year now and had known each other even longer. Yet his brothers had yet to know you even existed! Knowing you, you wouldn't push the issue because you didn't want to pressure your poor boyfriend. You were under the false pretence that he would come around eventually. The truth is, he wouldn't. And it wasn't because of his brothers teasing.

They would still tease him yes, but they've grown, they know the line. The real reason Donnie hadn't introduced you was because one; he wanted you to himself. And two, the biggest reason; he was embarrassed of where he lived. Yes his home was cleanly and all but it was still a sewer. It had taken a long time for him to begin to believe that you actually thought he was attractive and not some kind of monster. Living in the sewer though? What if that breaks your entire image of him? What if you think he really is some slimy gross sewer monster after? He couldn't bear the thought. After being with you for so long, he doesn't think he could live without you.

It took a lot of nagging but when Casey finally broke him and that was the explanation he gave? Casey was so done. So he took matters into his own hands. He waited for the opportunity to present itself and tonight was the night.

"Dudes!" orange interjected, "Chillll. Ever consider that maybe she won't say cuz we haven't introduced ourselves yet?? Hmmmmmmmmm?"

He chewed red out. Red just scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Hi, I'm Mikey, and that grump is Raph," he told you, "He's been awake too long, he gets fussy without his nap."

You giggled at this, but before you could say anything back Raph had tackled Mikey to the floor. As they rustled you made a small laugh.

"What is going on in here so late?" you heard someone say from behind you. You turned to where it was coming from and saw the third brother you had yet to meet. Blue.

Before he could say anything to Raph or Mikey though, he made eye contact with you.

"Who are you?"

"This is my best bud y/n. Y/n, the fearless leader Leo," Casey introduced.

"Don't call me that Casey," he told him sternly. He walked over to you guys and took a seat in the other side of you.

"You know Case, if I wasn't half asleep I'd be way more upset about you bringing a stranger to the lair."

"She's not a stranger though, she's known Donnie for a while now. Besides we already got yelled at enough by Raph," Casey told him.

He humm and nodded in a 'that makes sense type' of way.

"So you've know Donnie for a while?" he asked.

You felt like could tell Leo just as much as you could tell Raph. Which was nothing. But you felt like Leo would be more receptive to a reasonable answer then Raph was.

"I'd tell you, but I'm not at liberty to say right now," you said.

"That's not suspicious at all," he teased.

"Hey!" you laughed at him and he laughed back.

Casey elbowed you and smiled proudly. He acted like he deserved a thank you for introducing you to your boyfriends family behind his back. All you did was elbow him in the ribs. That was he really deserved. You would be lying though if you said it wasn't an oddly fun situation.

That's when Raph had pinned Mikey and he started screaming.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY? I COULDN'T HEAR YOUR BEFORE?!" Raph yelled at him with this hands pushing Mikey's head to the floor.

"AAAAAAAAA!!" was all Mikey said him response.

Leo sighed next to you, "I guess I'll be taking care of that."

Before he could make a move though, you heard a familiar voice.

"What is going on out here?! I can't work with all this RACKET!" Donnie grumply shouted.

He stopped right in his tracks when he saw you though.

The only time you had seen Donnie that worked up was when an experiment failed or his brothers got on his nerves. Even then though, it was just venting after the fact, so you never witnessed the brunt of his frustrations. Safe to say you were a little startled, not put off or anything, just surprised mostly.

"Y- y- y- y Y/N?! What in Earth are you doing here?? At this hour? Here? I- ??" he was completely flabbergasted and udderly mortified.

He looked a mess, bags under his eyes, mask lazily pushed above his eyes, and not to mention yelling like an angry old man! Oh nononono. It was bad enough you were in his sewer home, there's no way you don't think his a monster now!

"Would you look at that, guess you did know Don after all," Raph said, head in hand while an elbow laid on Mikey's head.

You turned back to Raph, "Why would I lie about that?!"

This boy was unbelievable.

"Raph get off Mikey," Leo told him.

"Not until he says it!"

"Really Raph? I though you stopped doing that when we were teens."

Deciding that you needn't be involved in that conversation, you turned back to Donnie who had a horrified expression on his face.

"H- how long have you been down here?" he asked quietly.

"Not super long, Casey and I only got here like, a few minutes ago," you answered him.

Donnie took a deep breath, he looked like he was about to loose it. You didn't blame him honestly.

"You. Brought. Her. Here?!" he asked Casey. Clearly hanging by the thread of his last nerve.

"Yeah, s'not like you ever would have, so I took matters into my own hands. Besides she's my friend just as much as she's your girlfriend, I have a right to introduce her to my closest buds."

"Wait. Did you just say, girlfriend?" Mikey asked. Leo was helping him off the floor with a displeased Raph standing to the side. They all froze after Casey's statement and started at you and Donnie with wide eyes.

"JONES!" you both yelled at him in unison.

"What? They were gonna haft'a know eventually, I just got the awkward part out of the way for you," he shrugged and winked at you both.

You were gonna kill him. And by the looks of it Donnie and you were on the same page.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a sigh.

"Okay, I think Donnie and I need to have a private conversation. When we're done we'll clear everything up with you all. Okay?"

"That sounds good," Leo nodded while everyone else complained.

You turned to Donnie signaling to lead the way to wherever you two could have some alone time. He seemed nervous and jittery, but led you none the less. He let you in first through a big sliding door that opened up into what seemed to be a garage. It had tables with tools and other electronic equipment strewn around. There were chemistry supplies as well along with some posters in the walls.

"So," Donnie started, fixing his gaze on the floor, "you wanted to talk?" He adjusted his mask to fit back over his eyes.

"Uh, yeah," you answered. Why was the air so thick all of a sudden? Donnie was so closed in on himself it was almost like he was afraid of you. Honestly, you wanted to ask him why Casey said he would never take you down here. But now wasn't the time for that.

"What do you want to do now? I know you wanted to introduce me on your own terms but now that that's not really a possibility. So where do you wanna go from here?" You asked.

You figured it would best to have a game plan before explaining everything to his brothers.

"I understan- Wait what?" He looked at you confused.

"Uuhhh, where do you want to go from here? Ya know, now that your brothers know?" You repeated yourself. Now you were confused.

"I. Wha. That's all you have to say?" Donnie said mouth agape, shocked.

"What? I mean, about this situation yeah? I mean, I am curious why Casey felt the need to do this but that's not really my first priority right now. Am- am I missing something here?" You asked him.

"I- I thought... I live in a sewer," he told you.

"You thought you lived in a sewer?" Your confusion increasing, "Like. You didn't know?"

"No! I know that! I just... you don't care?"

"Why would I care? I'm sorry," you put a hand to your forehead, "did you think I would judge you for your living conditions? Which are honestly pretty cush. Who do you take me fore Don?!"

"I! Well it's not that I thought you would judge me, it's just... I'm a mutant. Living in the sewers just- I don't know. The only things you think of living in the sewers are creepy gross monsters or rodents. On top of that it's the sewers! Most people find that pretty gross."

"Donnie. We've known each other for longer then a year. If I was disgusted by you, you would know by now," you spoke dryly.

"All this time I thought you just needed to get used to things. But you were just assuming the worst about me? What the heck Donnie?" You were hurt. You loved him so much, and he thought you would leave him because of where he lives? He really thought you were that judgemental?

"What?! No! I wasn't assuming the worst about you! I was just afraid you'd realize you deserve better than me!"

"BUT YOU'RE ALL I WANT!"

He stopped and looked at you, eyes wide.

"Really?"

"Yes! And I hate it when you talk like you're not deserving of love just because you're mutant."

"I just... I just don't see what you see in me," he admitted.

"Then stop assuming things and closing yourself off. Talk to your family, talk to your friends, talk to me. I never worry about whether or not you love me, you've seen me at my worst and never left my side. You're so scared of how I'll react to your worst you never even give me a chance to show you," you grabbed his hand and looked him in the eye.

"You don't get to decide how I feel or what I think, only I do."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Sorry for assuming things, things about you, and for taking so long to introduce you."

You kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," you smiled at him. Then pinched his neck and pulled him to you.

"Ow ow ow ow!"

"And never do that again," you let him go.

"Yes of course absolutely never again," he nodded and smiled at you. You smiled back and patted his chest.

"Now before we continue the conversation of how to approach your family, I feel like we should address the eavesdroppers in the room," you said pulling back the door all the way. It was already cracked open to allow the peepers better visuals for your conversation.

As it slid open you noticed Casey and the three brothers trying to run away from the door.

"What! Guys! What part of private conversation do you not understand?!" Donnie yelled at them.

"I told you guys you shouldn't have done that," Leo scolded them.

"YOU LITERALLY JOINED RIGHT AFTER SAYING THAT!" Raph pointed an accusatory finger at him, "AND FOR THE RECORD IT WAS MIKEY'S IDEA!" He yelled moving his pointing to the youngest.

"Wow dude, I thought we were in this together," Mikey put a hand on his chest hurt.

"Well in the end it doesn't matter cuz it already happened right?" Casey shrugged and took a seat on the couch again.

Out of everyone here you and Donnie were most ticked at Casey.

Both you and Donnie approached him from behind and grabbed one of his shoulders.

"W-what? Uhhh. You dudes need something? Eh heh..." he stuttered nervous. Only just now did he realize the hole he had dug for himself.

"Why don't we have a chat Casey," you smiled but it was less of a question and more of a statement.

"Privately," Donnie finished, no smile to be found.

You both were gonna have fun with this. Then Donnie could take you home and tuck you in. What a great boyfriend girlfriend bonding activity!

------------------------------------------------------------Listen y'all, I know Google maps don't work like this, but just for the sake of plot pretend like it does.

[paulyenvol6]

Toxic pt. 2

Contains: Smut, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, p in v, unprotected sex, degrading, choking, gagging, dom and mean Harry, sub reader, fingering, fluff

Wordcount: 2.42k

Y/n felt the breeze in her hair and just hoped it wouldn’t be all messy when she would try to comb it later. And she also prayed she wouldn’t catch the cold and lay sick in bed for the rest of the week. 'Fuck', y/n thought looking at her phone again but there was no notification.

She was sitting by this stupid bench alone on a Friday night. Harry had promised her a 'beautiful romantic date, just the two of us' and she had been surprised. In a very good way.

She had smiled and nodded and told him that it sounded lovely. But then a day later on Thursday Harry had texted her to ask her whether it would be okay if she would just pick him up after his football training and then the two of them could go on a stroll to go to a bar nearby.

Y/n had frowned at her phone, kind of felt the need to throw it against the wall but had agreed. She had been disappointed that a 'beautiful, romantic date' turned out to be a date in a bar but she wanted to give him a chance as she was still charmed by the gesture.

But well, now y/n wondered if it had been a mistake.

Harry had told her to be by the football team house at 7 pm and she had been there at 6:57 pm. When he hadn’t been there at 7:03 she had simply started to count the window panes of the shed that Harry had called a house. At 7:08 y/n had looked around to peek through one of the windows and at 7:16 she had texted him.

She could go in, sure. Harry was only a few feet away from her but you didn’t want to. He had invited her and y/n wouldn’t give in and chase after him.

Now it was 7:29 and she was annoyed. Now and then she could hear some laughter from inside the shed and y/n rolled her eyes. It was a Friday night and she had just spent half and hour in front of a stupid shed waiting for her boyfriend.

'No.', y/n thought. She was 22 years old and supposed to have fun in her life. Fuck this. Fuck his dumb idea of a date. Tonight she wouldn’t think about him. She wouldn’t storm into that shed, embarrassing herself by interrupting him and drag him out of there.

Y/n got up from the bench and took her bag. With a last look at the building she turned around and walked away. 10 minutes later she wasn't so sure about her plans anymore. Y/n didn’t really know where she actually wanted to go. She had walked through the small park next to the football pitch and now stood on a more lively street. She wanted to have fun, so that meant to find herself a warm place because her feet felt like ice by now.

While walking down the street she looked around trying to spot a nice bar or restaurant and then her eyes caught a sign. 'At Peter’s'. Y/n was thinking. That might just be the bar Harry had wanted to take her to. He had mentioned the name on the phone but of course she had forgotten.

But that didn’t matter now, the bar looked nice and y/n really wanted to get inside so she headed right towards it. Once she had entered it she was looking for somewhere to sit and actually spotted a stool at the counter.

Y/n ordered a beer and forced herself not to look at her phone. She had sworn herself not to think about Harry tonight. He had treated her badly, had neglected her and now he didn’t deserve to be the center of her thoughts.

Y/n sipped on her beer and looked around in the bar when she noticed someone sat down to her left. Curiously she turned around and looked right into the eyes of a young man with dark hair and piercing brown eyes.

She almost choked on her drink, so surprised by his gaze and coughed. "I’m sorry.", y/n pressed and the man grinned. "What for?" She chuckled when her breathing had calmed down. "For staring right at you and then almost choke at my beer. I was just startled."

The man smiled and she noticed that he had dimples. Like Harry. No, she couldn’t think about him again. "It’s alright.", the man said. "My name is Nick, by the way." Y/n smiled back at him. "My name is y/n. Very nice to meet you."

He took her hand and softly shook it which made her laugh again. "What brings you here alone on a Friday night?" Y/n rested her elbows on the counter. "Mhmm, I don’t know really. I think I needed a new environment." Nick nodded. "Respectable." "And what about you?"

Y/n rested her chin on the palm of her hands and watched him precisely. He chuckled and watched his hands on the counter. "Will it be enough for you if I simply say the air in my flat was too thin?" She laughed and Nick joined it.

But then he got serious again. "You know, I don’t want to be rude, y/n. If you don’t want any company right now I don’t want to bother you. I just want to make sure you want me to sit here next to you, you know…" "She does not." The voice made her jump and y/n quickly turned around. "Harry!", she said loudly and widened her eyes.

No, no! She was mad at him, she couldn’t feel guilty or scared now. HE was the one who had messed up. HE was the one who should come here and apologise. But the way he stood there. His hair still slightly wet from his shower and he just looked so confident.

She slapped herself mentally and changed her eyes to looking angry. "What was that, Harry? You told me to be there at 7 pm. And half an hour later, no sight of you, no message, nothing!" Harry didn’t look at y/n. He hadn’t looked at her while she had hissed these words but just looked at Nick furiously.

Speaking of, Nick looked from y/n to Harry and he obviously was confused by this situation. "Is… everything fine?" Harry chuckled sarcastically and leaned down to him. „Yes. If you leave this bar right now. And if you’re never gonna look at her again.“

Nick frowned and she could clearly see the fear in his eyes. So he quickly got up, grabbed his jacket not without letting her boyfriend out of sight and then left. "Harry?", y/n asked again but he ignored her. Then he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her with him.

"What the fuck are you doing?", she hissed trying to make him let go of her but his grip was tight. He dragged y/n to the toilets of the bar, into a cabin and locked the door behind her. "What the hell are you doing, Harry?", she pressed and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

It was the first time he looked at her tonight and took a step in y/n's direction. "I don’t want to EVER walk into a bar again and see you talk to another man. Do you understand me?" She raised her chin. "You are the one who – " Harry cut her off by grabbing the side of her face with his right and putting his hand on her mouth with his left.

"Mhmm. No. Wrong answer." He made another step towards y/n and her back hit the wall. He then removed his hand from her mouth and held her neck with it. "You’re mine, y/n. And I don’t like seeing other men toying with what’s mine."

She looked up to him and felt her knees getting weak. Fuck, this wasn’t how she had planned this. How was he able to turn her into a thoughtless mess so quickly? She knew she wouldn’t be able to stay strong if he looked at her like that.

"Say it.", Harry spoke and he ran the thumb of his right hand over her lips. "What?", she breathed. "Say who you belong to." "No.", y/n spit and Harry tightly pressed her against the wall while his hand put a little pressure on her throat. "Yes. You will. Because if you don’t I’ll leave you here and go home alone. And I know that you're little panties are soaked right now and my poor girl is craving my touch."

He lifted her chin. "So go on. I’m listening." God, why was he so good? Who had taught him that? She looked at him with big eyes, begging him to just touch her but he didn’t give in. "I’m yours.", y/n eventually quietly whispered.

"What was that?" "I’m yours Harry." He smirked widely. "Aha. There we go. Good girl." She pressed her thighs together at his words and Harry chuckled. "Just as I thought.", he growled and then roughly spreaded her thighs. "Go on. Touch yourself.", he said and y/n looked up to him surprised.

"Do it." She hadn't expected him to demand her to touch herself and yet she obeyed him. Her shaky hand slid between her legs and under her skirt and her thumb found her clit. "Rub yourself, darling.", he whispered while watching y/n's hand disappear under her skirt.

She began drawing tight circles around her little nub and then after a while Harry's right hand wandered under her shirt. He massaged her boobs and rubbed her nipples between his fingers which made y/n sigh loudly. His left hand crawled up to her throat and he choked her lightly.

"Get on your fucking knees.", he suddenly said and y/n immediately stopped rubbing her clit. Harry pushed her down in front of him and didn't waste another second. He opened his jeans, pulled them down, freed his cock in a matter of seconds and then ran his tip over her mouth.

"Open, you little slut.", he hissed and y/n knew better than to disobey him. She opened her lips and Harry thrusted deep inside her. She needed to cough, felt him trigger her gagging reflex but Harry didn't allow her to get away from his cock.

His hand had grabbed the back of her head tightly and held her in this position. "Don't fight.", he moaned. "Just fucking relax." Y/n tried her best to breathe through her nose and after a while could loosen around his cock.

"Good girl. Yes.", Harry whispered when he felt her calm down and he started to thrust into her mouth. His hand moved her head along to his hips and hit the back of her throat every time. "Fuck. Oh holy shit, your mouth is a fucking… paradise." Harry had thrown his head back and moved her head faster and faster.

Y/n knew him by now and could sense that it wouldn't take him long to reach his orgasm. She felt his thick cock thrust into her mouth over and over again and just when she expected him to shoot his seed into her throat he suddenly pulled out of her and y/n opened her eyes in surprise.

Harry took a fistful of her hair and pulled her up. Without saying a word he turned her around and pressed her to the wall while lifting her skirt. "Harry.", y/n moaned and blindly reached behind so he would take her hand but Harry simply pressed it to the wall. "Shut up.", he groaned and then ran his cock through her folds.

She was incredibly wet and Harry grinned against the back of her head. "You're a little whore, do you know that?", he whispered against her ear. "Getting soaked from getting your mouth fucked." Y/n whimpered when his cock hit her clit and shifted nervously so Harry smacked her ass. "Stop moving around." Y/n nodded quickly.

She just wanted him to fill her hole and couldn't wait for him to finally enter her. And he did, with one deep thrust he stretched her walls and both moaned loudly. Harry started to slam inside of her and y/n pressed her hands to the wall in an attempt to hold on to something. "Mhmm.", she made and felt her knees getting weak.

Harry's hand reached around her body and his hand wrapped around her throat. He lightly choked her and she felt a little dizzy from all this stimulation. Because Harry's other hand had started to make its way between her thighs and he rubbed at her clit. "Harry. Please…", she whined but her voice sounded a bit croaky due to the hand around her neck that restricted the air coming to her lungs.

Harry was relentless with his pace and he fucked her hard and deep against the wall. She felt him so deep inside her and in combination with his hand on her clit she felt like she was about to explode.

"Harry…", she whined and his hand around her neck wandered to her mouth. "Shut it. You're gonna make the whole bar hear you." Now she moaned against his mouth and after a few more moments y/n felt the knot in her stomach tightend pleasure washed over her.

"Shit.", she shrieked and luckily her noises were supressed by Harry's hand. Feeling her clench around him sent him over the edge as well and he came with a deep growl. Y/n could feel his seed filling her up and know her knees really would have given in if Harry hadn't held her at her waist.

He breathed a few times deeply trying to recover from the high and then he pulled out of her. Y/n couldn't see what he was doing but then Harry turned her around and stroke her cheek. He smirked and kissed her swiftly on her lips.

He had adjusted his own trousers and now grabbed a paper tissue, got it wet and cleaned y/n's pussy. His cum was leaking out and running down her thighs and it definitely would've been suspicious if she had walked out like that.

Then Harry pulled up her panties and adjusted her clothes. Y/n herself was too fucked out and powerless to do anything so she just let her boyfriend take care and it honestly felt good that he took cared of her. After Harry was finished he took her hand. "Come.", he said softly. "What are we doing?" "We're going on our date."

[icarusredwings]

Finding home Au things that are canon (because I said so, and it's MY au so I can do whatever I want. Send me headcanons, and I'll approve them)

Gambit just got back from the void so he's just now meeting everyone. He looks a little different from how they remember since their gambit really was never a full team mate and rather then just some guy that helped Logan a couple of times. This being said hes meeting Rouge as a 35 year old linguistics teacher for a bunch of brats, flirting with her in the halls, trying to impress her all the time, etc. He wanted to have a cool class like how to use a Bo staff or tutor energy weilding kids but instead got stuck with sex ed. Because of this, he now makes a ton of jokes to Rouge about it (she's across the hall) but actually is really excited to start his cooking elective class this coming fall when he's considered a real team member.

Ororos heals click in the hall like they did when you were a kid and you could tell the principal is coming. She's almost always with a tea or a coffee, walkie talkie and keys jingling. She's very sweet but kids shit their pants if sent to Mrs. Munroes office, meanwhile Mr. Summers office is a nothing, just a lecture and a slap on the wrist. Aint no one actually scared of lasik because they know thw worst theyll get is community work for a couple of weeks but they ligit cry the second theyre sent to munroe's (especially if they know theyre guilty of a big prank or something)

The school gives out free hygiene products and depending on what you need you can special request it.

If students get too angry they are sent to Piotr's art room for art therapy. He surprisingly is very artistic and chill.

Forges shop class is working on a car with no weight limit and that can handle their heavy hitters (Colossus and Wolverine) both in the same car (most bust) as well as a car made from plastic recycling. They're working on it. Its only blown up once!!

Gambit makes breakfast for the staff and some students of they beg enough. He keeps bringing Rouge the first cup of coffee from the pot and has made her pancakes shaped like hearts multiple times. Watching her stab them and smother them make him... giggle helplessly.

Gambit🤝Watching their love intrests viscously stab and rip apart their meals with a boner wishing it was them🤝Wade

He's very respectful towards her, though and sometimes is a bit (COUGH a lot COUGH) of a kiss ass.

Hank's students have blown up the lab at least 4 times by now. One of those times was Wades fault for touching stuff he wasn't supposed to.

Kurt is very glad that Wade has taken over his Duel weaponry/swordsman class, so now he has time to start working out a pitch for a world's religion class+ sunday school. He still runs a fencing club, though.

Peter (quicksilver) has tried so many different positions, including music teacher of all different instruments. Now he just kinda lounges around in the game room and speed cleans the mansion after each day in like 2 minutes flat. Imagine being paid a full salary just for 2 minutes of work? And you get to live somewhere for free and play games all day? Fuck yeah.

Positions I've been thinking about:

Beast (Dr. Henry "Hank" McCoy) is the Vice-Principal, so he does orientation. He has multiple science classes, including biophysics, and has electives in philosophy and poetry.

Colossus (Piotr Rasputin) is an art teacher and handles art therapy

Gambit (Remy LeBeau) runs a sex-ed class and is hoping to soon get approved to run a cooking class next semester.

Nightcrawler (Kurt Wagner) has a fencing elective as well as a religion class, sunday school, and sometimes helps Morph with drama/theater. (Ex duel weaponry instructor)

Rogue (Anna Marie) is a Linguistics teacher who drabbles in social science. “Diction and Linguistics, with Professor Rogue” She can teach just about any language, but russian/german/ french/ spanish and Japanese are her main ones. She's who you go to if you dont understand English and need help. Almost all foreign students have her.

Cyclops (Scott Summers) is the headmaster. He has classes in Geometry, has an elective for leadership and communications (PFFT) as well as being the schools mobility/disability specialist. He, of course, specializes more with children who have trouble with their eyesight.

Storm (Ororo Munroe) is the Headmistress. She has an Environmental Science and Political Science class as well as a multi cultural elective.

Shadowcat (Katherine "Kitty" Pryde) has a comp-sci class and runs an ethics class.

“Ethics 101: Forgetting Everything You Ever Learned From Emma Frost, with Professor Pryde.”

Wolverine (Logan Howlett) is a(n occasional hand to hand combat/ martial arts) PE instructor. (Ex History teacher)

Jubilee is the schools event organizer, event coordinator, event manager, and more broadly, event professional, the ‘hip’ school counselor. "Activities Director & Counselor"

Morph is the director of drama acting and disguises (duh)

Laura is a graduating student In training under the Wolverine (Gabby is a student and is too young to be an understudy)

Yukio graduating student In training Under Storm or Rouge (I can't decide)

Negasonic teenage warhead (Ellie) graduating student In training under Jean Grey.

Mr. Wade Wilson (Deadpool) Is in training under Colossus. Duel weaponry/ swordsman tactics class instructor (plus whatever Logan's doing, he's very nosey and WILL cause issues if bored)

Jean Grey is an english teacher, has a class on psychology, and drabbles in physics.

Ice man (Bobby) is the school financal advisor/accountant and runs a business elective class.

Forge is a Shop teacher.

Quicksilver (Peter maximoff) Janitor, housekeeping, music teacher, replaced original Logan as PE teacher for a while, target practice, teaches fast kids how to avoid running into walls, always in the game room, stock/ errand boy, gets bored super quickly, sports instructor, Read almost all the books in the library, likes swimming, mainly just lays around waiting for something fun to do, his father causes trouble sometimes which he thinks is entertaining but also hella embaressing.

I'm unfortunately left without a history teacher, so shoot me any ideas :)