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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months ago

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i'm glad i get forever to see where you end

check all tags on and read if you prefer on ao3

rated e, minors dni

happy birthday to my wife in all but law, @messessentialist. this whole idea came out of nowhere and then just kept growing and growing, much like my love for you. anytime you're ready to live our rv life dreams, i'm ready.

i'm not gonna post any links here, but just know i had 8 tabs open of different fish and birds that can be seen in and around indiana lakes. i didn't have a particular lake in mind, but there are plenty to choose from so if it matters to you, i mostly looked at lakes in the northeast and northwest area of indiana.

title is lyrics from forever by noah kahan, which is a song you should absolutely listen to if you haven't before.

this work is for sadie. if she is the only one who reads this, then that's all that matters to me.

//////////////////////////////////////////

🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣

He stares down at the paper in his hands. He thought he’d feel relief, maybe a tiny bit of happiness that he’d never admit to. He even considered that he might feel a small speck of sadness the day his brother died.

But all Wayne Munson feels right now is disbelief and anger, and he doesn’t know where to hide it before Eddie gets home.

“God damn idiot. Couldn’t even have the decency to die of old age. Had to go and get killed behind bars,” Wayne mutters under his breath as he folds the paper and slips it back into the envelope, hoping that keeping it out of sight might help him come to terms with the emotions flooding his chest. “Bullshit.”

Wayne is tired. He feels exhaustion in his bones, even in his fresh retirement.

For some, retirement is a time to reflect on the life you’ve lived and experience the things you couldn’t while you worked and raised a family. For others, retirement never happens at all.

For Wayne, retirement is a reminder that he almost lost his nephew, his son, and the government had to make sure he wouldn’t say a damn thing about how.

He knows he shouldn’t complain, but damn he sure would like to.

And now he has to figure out a way to tell Eddie that his father got killed in prison. The letter doesn’t say much, just that it was violent and the person responsible for his death is facing further consequences. As if Wayne cares about that. As if it helps explain this situation to a boy who already lost enough.

He sighs as he grabs a beer from the fridge and glances at the clock. Eddie should be home soon. He can’t hold onto this for too long; The news will get out soon enough and he’ll hear it from somewhere else, somewhere who won’t take the time to see what Eddie needs.

He takes a sip of the beer, then another, hoping the next taste of the bitter hops will help him decipher what he needs to say to Eddie.

It’s almost a blessing that Eddie doesn’t arrive home for another hour, giving Wayne time to finish his beer and get started on dinner.

Wayne is already prepared to ask Steve to head out tonight instead of linger, using the excuse of making sure Eddie doesn’t need anything before he goes. Usually Wayne finds it endearing, and hopes Eddie can see what’s so obvious there, but not tonight.

But Steve doesn’t walk in with Eddie.

Eddie’s humming something when he walks in, setting his cane against the table before sitting down in a chair and looking at Wayne with a smile.

“Hey, Wayne. How’s your day been?”

Wayne knows he’s about to ruin Eddie’s day at the very least and he’s not sure if he wants that task. He silently curses Al Munson again, wishing for someone to show up and say it was a mistake just so he doesn’t have to do this.

“Oh, boring. Ya know I hate retirement,” Wayne says as he brushes off the stress, tries to figure out a way to lead in to the news naturally. “Too much time on my hands.”

“You love fishing, though. Thought that’s where you went all morning.”

Wayne nodded. “You’re right about that. Guess I just like keeping my mind busy.”

He’s met with silence, which leads him to looking over to the table, where Eddie is staring at the envelope the letter came in.

Why did he leave it out in the open like that? It’s clearly marked from the prison.

“What’s this?” Eddie asks, always curious to the point of danger. “Dad get out?”

This was one of the worst things Wayne ever had to do and that’s saying something. Vietnam wasn’t for the weak, losing the love of his life nearly killed him, and seeing Eddie in a hospital bed after just barely escaping death is something he’d feel deep in his chest for years. But this was up there.

“No, son,” Wayne sighed, turning away from the pot on the stove. Beef stew and bread with butter was one of Eddie’s favorites, but it took a lot of work. That didn’t matter as much as making sure Eddie had support. “They sent a letter to let me know your dad passed away.”

Eddie didn’t look away from the letter. He was playing with the rings on his fingers, replaced by Steve the moment he realized they were missing in the hospital.

“Did they say how?” Eddie finally asked, still not looking up at Wayne.

“They just said another inmate was responsible. I don’t know any details. I’m sorry, Ed. Really sorry.”

And he is. Despite the fact that Al was a terrible father and made Eddie’s life harder than it should have ever been, he knows Eddie must have a lot of complicated emotions.

“Welp!” Eddie claps his hands on his thighs before finally looking back up at Wayne. “Guess that’s that.”

“It…is?” Wayne is trying to watch for any sign of discomfort or sadness, maybe anger. He sees none.

“Yeah. Not like I’ve really had him around to feel much of a loss.” Eddie smiles. It’s not fake, at least not according to Wayne’s judgment. “You’ve been my dad more than he ever was.”

Wayne feels warmth spreading in his chest at the thought of Eddie seeing him as his parent. It makes sense, but he’s never outright said something. Sure, he gave him Father’s Day cards, often handmade. And yeah, he braved a fishing trip every year for Wayne’s birthday because he knew it meant a lot to him. There was that one time he’d called him Dad when he was on morphine in the hospital.

Hearing it changes something in Wayne.

“You really feel that way, kid?” Wayne asks, sitting down at the table across from Eddie.

“Yeah. I kinda thought you knew that already.”

“Guess it’s nice to hear anyway.”

They don’t say anything else. They don’t need to.

A few minutes goes by before Wayne stands up and walks over to the stew, giving it a stir and taking a spoonful out to test the carrots and beef.

“Is that beef stew?” Eddie asks as the scent hits him.

“Sure is.”

“You were worried about how this was gonna go, huh?” Eddie teases, smirk evident in his voice.

“A little. Can’t blame me, can ya?” Wayne decides it’s done and turns off the stove. He’s grabbing two bowls from the cabinet when the front door opens.

“You forgot the meds!” Steve yells as he runs into their kitchen with a bottle of prescription pills in his hand. He freezes when he sees Wayne dishing out stew. “Sorry. Uh. Am I interrupting?”

Wayne laughs around a sigh, reaching up to grab a third bowl.

“No, have a seat, son. Just gettin’ ready to eat.”

Eddie stands and limps his way to Steve, taking the pill bottle to pocket it before he leans further in his space.

“I’m an orphan!”

Steve’s jaw drops and Wayne does all he can not to laugh. It’s not funny, and he knows that Eddie’s probably not processing the news properly yet, but he’d rather laugh than cry.

“Sorry, what?”

“My dad’s dead. The biological one in prison. Rest in peace to the man who gave me, like, two useful skills and musical talent.” Eddie is still leaning into Steve’s space and Wayne’s watching, waiting.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, that sucks.”

“Nah, it sucks that he was such a shitty dad I barely even feel sad that he’s dead.” Ah, there it is. That’s why he’s doing better than Wayne expected. “I’ve got Wayne.”

“Damn right,” Wayne adds as he pulls spoons out of the drawer. “Let’s eat.”

Steve seems lost for a moment as he looks between Wayne and Eddie, unsure what else to say in this admittedly strange situation.

He finally grabs two bowls off the counter and sets them in his and Eddie’s spots at the table.

“Let’s eat.”

- - -

Two days pass before it really hits Eddie.

Wayne’s been waiting.

Nothing major happens. Eddie doesn’t break down in tears or lash out in anger. He doesn’t even mention saying goodbye in some way.

“We should go on a trip.” He says to Wayne while they’re eating breakfast.

“What kinda trip?” Wayne asks without looking up from his newspaper.

“Camping. Or maybe cabin-ing. Somewhere with walls and running water.” Eddie sounds breathless, like he’s run a marathon. Wayne finally looks up and sees the look in his eyes. “Could go fishing and roast marshmallows and swim and stuff. Like that one time.”

He’s talking about the trip they took together a few months after he moved in permanently. His mama was gone and his dad was sitting in jail waiting for sentencing on an armed robbery turned homicide. Wayne wanted to get Eddie’s mind off everything before he had to go back to school, so he took him up to a friend’s cabin at the lake for a few days.

Eddie’s never been an outside person, but they had fun there.

It was the first time Wayne felt like Eddie was his.

It may have been the first time Eddie felt safe with Wayne, too.

“I could see if that cabin’s available. My buddy doesn’t rent it out much anymore so I’m sure he’d be fine with us using it.”

“Could Steve come?”

“Sure.”

He agrees without a second thought.

This is Eddie’s way of seeking comfort in the people he has left, he can see it from a mile away. If Eddie needs Steve to come with them, it’s no skin off Wayne’s back.

Plus, Wayne can recognize how badly Steve needs to relax. He can’t believe someone as young as him walks with so much tension in his shoulders and lines on his forehead.

“Sweet. He’s never been fishing,” Eddie explains. “Or hiking in the right side up. At least not proper hiking. I guess we aren’t really doing proper hiking. I’m wearing jeans. Can’t be real hiking.”

Wayne smiles down at the sports section of the paper, nodding and humming in agreement when Eddie recommends something else for their trip.

- - -

Steve tries insisting on taking his car as his contribution to the weekend, but Wayne tells him they need the space in his truck for all their gear. It occurs to him when Steve just blinks back at him that Eddie didn’t explain how much is actually involved in all this.

But Wayne takes the time to show him some of the stuff he already has packed in the bed of his truck.

“I thought we were staying in a cabin. Why do we have a tent?” Steve sounds nervous when he asks.

“It’s not a full tent. Just a canopy to hang up to protect us from the sun if we get caught up somewhere during our hike.”

“Hike?” Steve turns towards the trailer, glaring at Eddie, who is too busy trying to figure out which of his sneakers to wear to notice. “He didn’t say anything about hiking. I don’t have boots or, or, anything!”

Wayne grabs Steve’s shoulders, looks him in the eye, and lets out a laugh.

“Do ya think Eddie would agree to go on a hike that requires special boots?” Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t think I could bribe him to go on anything but an easy trail unless that Lars guy from Metallica was at the end of it.”

“So I’ll be fine in my Nikes?” Steve clarifies.

“Better than.” Wayne turns back to the truck bed. “I grabbed an extra pole for ya, but it’s a bit short. We can make it work, though.”

Steve stares at everything piled into the truck. Wayne stares at Steve.

He can’t read him quite like he can read Eddie, not yet, but he’s got a feeling that Steve’s overwhelmed by the effort. Wayne doesn’t know much about his upbringing, but he can imagine it was pretty lonely what with his parents being gone more than they were home.

He’s certain Richard Harrington wouldn’t even know how to cast a line, let alone catch a fish.

“Wayne! Should I just bring both?” Eddie’s standing barefoot on the top step of the deck, holding two pairs of sneakers up.

“Sure, Ed.” Wayne looks down at his bare feet and wrinkles his nose. “Don’t forget your socks.”

“Does he do that a lot?” Steve asks, still staring at everything in the truck.

“Not so much anymore. When he’s got a lot on his mind, though, he forgets little stuff. Socks, underwear, eating.” Wayne could go on, but he’s pretty sure Eddie will kill him if he does. “He’s excited for this trip so it probably isn’t at the front of his mind.”

“Right, yeah. I noticed that.” Steve finally looks at Wayne, small smile on his face. Fond, Wayne would say. “He was so caught up on picking up the kids for game night, he forgot the games.”

“Sounds like our boy,” Wayne said, waiting for any kind of negative reaction from Steve at his words.

But Steve’s smile grew, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He looked over at where Eddie had been standing moments ago, and Wayne watches him.

“Steve, I feel like-“

“Wayne! We forgot hot dogs!” Eddie calls from inside the trailer, front door wide open allowing him to see Eddie’s movement by the fridge. “And buns!”

Steve looks back at Wayne. “I can run and get some while you finish up here.”

“I already grabbed them. Check that red cooler and the bag next to it,” Wayne gestured towards three coolers along the side of the truck bed. “He wasn’t payin’ attention when I told him I was packin’ everything.”

“Not surprising.”

“We got it all Ed! Throw your bag in and let’s go!” Wayne calls towards the trailer. “He’s gonna throw a fit about ridin’ in the middle, but that’s what he gets for bein’ a bean pole.”

Steve snorts as he walks over to open the passenger door. “He’ll live.”

Wayne thinks Steve’s gonna fit right in.

- - -

The cabin is off the beaten path. It’s actually off of all paths. They’re lucky that Wayne’s friend visited recently to clear bushes and trees away so they could get to it.

Forest surrounds it on three sides, the lake is in the back.

It’s quiet, an escape for all of them, but especially for Eddie. Whatever thoughts are trying to cloud Eddie’s mind might just float away in the fresh air if he manages to relax enough.

They unload the truck efficiently, bringing everything inside except the fishing equipment, which stays on the front porch so Wayne can load it on the boat before nightfall. He doesn’t bother locking his truck up; There’s no one around for two miles at least.

Steve’s loading things into the fridge and Eddie’s…

“Where’s Ed?” Wayne asks as he grabs his duffel bag to bring to one of the bedrooms.

“Said he wanted to see how cold the water is,” Steve shrugs, shoving the beer to the side so he can make room for Eddie’s Mountain Dew. “Told him it’s probably not that cold since it’s August.”

“Anything less than boiling is too cold for that one,” Wayne chuckles. “I’ll go load the boat.”

He goes out the back door, immediately locating Eddie at the water’s edge. At least he didn’t go far. He was a bit of a flight risk at the best of times and these weren’t really the best of times.

His shoes and socks are off, sitting in the mix of sand and rocks that make up the shoreline. The rocks are smooth, worn down over thousands of years of water and animals and people. Perfect for skipping across the top of the water, splashes disrupting the calm of a lake with few visitors this close to the end of summer.

Wayne showed Eddie how to skip rocks years ago, not on this lake, but a much smaller one that they’d visited for the day the summer before he started high school. It took him about 100 tries before he got it, but when he did, he’d beamed back at Wayne, proud of himself for possibly the first time in his life.

But he’s not skipping rocks now. He’s standing at the shoreline, where the small waves break against the sand, staring out at the horizon. Wayne is tempted to leave him be, but he can’t.

He walks up behind him, makes sure to clear his throat so he isn’t completely startled when Wayne stops right where the water stops. It licks right at the toes of his boots, but they’re his work ones, steel-toe.

Eddie turns and gives him a small smile.

“Sorry, just wanted to dip my feet in.” Eddie apologizes as if Wayne would care that he’s already finding solace in the solitude of the lake.

“Stay out here as long as you want, kid. You okay?” Wayne watches as Eddie’s hands curl into fists and then relax against his thighs.

“Yeah. Thanks for bringing me out here. I’ll help load the boat,” Eddie offers, already turning towards Wayne fully and taking a step out of the water. Wayne holds his hand up to stop him. “What?”

“I got it. You can help pack the cooler in the mornin’.”

Eddie shrugs and turns back to the lake.

Wayne watches him for another minute, silent so he doesn’t disturb whatever thoughts are brewing in Eddie’s head.

As he walks back to the porch to grab the tackle boxes and poles for the boat, he sees Steve watching Eddie out the kitchen window, concerned frown and furrowed brow on his face.

Steve doesn’t notice him.

- - -

The first night is Wayne making dinner while Steve and Eddie argue over which side of the queen sized bed they’re sleeping on. He can’t help but laugh at how quickly it went from calmly suggesting the other person sleeps on the window side to personal insults.

When he hears Eddie say something about Steve’s hair being too big, he shouts for them to join him.

Dinner is relatively peaceful considering the warzone that was their shared bedroom moments before sitting down to eat. Everyone enjoys the chicken and green beans Wayne cooked, barely leaving any for leftovers. They talk about their plans for the morning, and Steve offers to clean up after they eat so Wayne can have an early night.

It’s kind of him, but he already knows their arguing is just gonna wake him up if they haven’t settled on the bed issue.

“How about you take turns sleepin’ by the window?” Wayne asks before agreeing to an early bedtime. “That way it’s fair.”

“But who has to sleep there tonight?” Eddie asks, sticking his tongue out at Steve.

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

“That’s stupid.”

Wayne raises his brow at Eddie’s crossed arms. “Draw straws then.”

“We don’t have straws.” Steve looks around the kitchen, trying to find something they can use in place of straws, but fails. “It’s fine. I’ll take the window.”

Wayne can tell he doesn’t want to, and he’s pretty sure he can guess why neither of them is thrilled with sleeping directly under a window that looks out into a dense forest, but Steve’s a self-sacrificial kind of guy. That’s been clear for as long as Wayne’s known him.

He also knows that Eddie, even as stubborn as he is, wouldn’t let a friend feel uncomfortable.

“I’ll take it tonight.” Eddie offers.

“No, it’s okay. I can take it.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Y’all will argue over anything.”

Steve and Eddie both turn to him with matching grins. “Mhm.” They agree in unison.

“Eddie takes window tonight,” Wayne says. “Steve can have it tomorrow night. Whoever catches the biggest fish this weekend gets to pick on the last night.”

“Sounds fair,” Steve nods, turning to Eddie to see if he agrees.

“Sure. Fair.” Eddie stands and starts clearing the drinks from the table.

Wayne decides to leave before he gets dragged into a new disagreement. He’s only got so much patience.

He’s not surprised to hear them go out the back door after the sun sets, voices quiet, but still audible through Wayne’s open bedroom window.

They don’t go far, just past the porch, about halfway to the water.

“You know, my dad would never have done anything like this with me,” Steve states, only a small hint of bitterness in his tone. “He didn’t believe in bonding time or whatever. Thought that was for fathers and sons who didn’t have a family business to maintain.”

“My dad never did either.” Eddie says back, and Wayne’s heart stops in his chest. “Probably couldn’t have stayed sober enough to make the drive to a place like this.”

Wayne waits for Steve to say something, anything. He waits for so long, he’s tempted to look out the window and see if he can see them under the light of the moon.

“Your dad didn’t deserve you,” Steve finally says, quieter than they’d been before, like he didn’t want to disrupt the quiet night with his words. “And you deserved better than him.”

“I had Wayne eventually. I have Wayne now.” Eddie replies just as quietly. “And you do too, ya know.”

Wayne isn’t much of a crier. He’s only done it a handful of times. But Eddie’s words make his eyes well up and his throat burn.

“He barely knows me,” Steve tries to argue.

“He knows enough. You were there for the worst of my shit. You still stick around. You’re here right now even though you could’ve turned down his invitation.” Eddie sounds like he’s holding back tears now. “If you mean a lot to me, you mean a lot to Wayne. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

Wayne wishes he could be a part of this conversation, or at least be able to see them both. He’s respecting their space as much as he can, though. He’s laying in his bed and biting back tears the way any respectful uncle would.

“I’m not used to meaning so much to someone.”

Wayne isn’t sure he hears him right, his voice breaking halfway through, but Steve couldn’t have said anything else.

He should stop listening. This is turning into something else entirely, he thinks. He shouldn’t hear whatever Eddie says next.

“You mean everything to me.”

Wayne closes his eyes, holds his breath, hopes that if Steve takes it the way he knows Eddie means it, that this doesn’t turn into a real fight. He hopes that Steve’s reaction is kind, even if it’s not what Eddie wants.

Wayne’s almost grateful that he can’t hear what Steve says next. Whether it’s rude or loving, he doesn’t want to be a part of this moment like this. He can’t close his window, they’d hear it. He can’t leave his room, he’ll just be in view when they come back inside.

He waits one minute, two, three. He hears a twig snap and then quiet giggling.

He smiles to himself as he hears footsteps heading back towards the cabin.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Eddie wakes up with Steve’s arms around him and something bubbling in his chest.

Could be heartburn, or it could be the love that’s been growing inside him for months.

He remembers their conversation last night, looking up at the stars and listening to the leaves gently brushing against each other in the breeze, and he can’t help the blush on his cheeks. When Steve kissed him last night, he was pretty sure he was dreaming.

This wasn’t a dream, though.

They stayed up way too late. Eddie knew the moment he looked at the clock as they got into bed and saw 1:48 in bright red that he’d struggle today.

He could hear Wayne moving around the cabin, probably making coffee and breakfast for them since they’d need an early start for fishing. It wasn’t Eddie’s favorite thing to do, but Wayne loved it, and Eddie loved Wayne.

Steve groaned as he moved one arm above his head.

Eddie looks up at him, blushing harder when Steve’s half-lidded eyes are already looking down at him. He’s smiling, cocky if Eddie’s reading him right.

“Sleep okay?” Steve’s sleep-raspy voice asks, fingers gliding across Eddie’s upper arm in unknown patterns.

“Mhm. Not long enough,” Eddie admits. “Could stay in bed.”

Steve hums in agreement before seemingly realizing that Wayne’s already up. “Don’t think we can skip out on Wayne, though.”

This is why Eddie has a hard time pushing his feelings down for Steve. He’s done this before, whether he realizes he did or not.

In the hospital, the day after he’d woken up, Steve had stopped by to bring some clothes for Wayne since he refused to leave Eddie’s side. The kids had apparently been hounding him to take them with him, but he stood his ground and told them that Eddie needed time with just Wayne right now and that he needed rest.

A few weeks later, Steve could’ve easily taken Eddie home by himself, but insisted on waiting for Wayne to get off of work to do it.

Just a week ago, Wayne had forgotten a few things at the store, and when Steve overheard him grumbling about having to make another trip, he offered to go.

That’s just who Steve is.

Eddie loves him for it.

“Yeah. He’d be so bored without me scaring the fish away with my constant humming and leg jiggling,” Eddie agrees seriously. “Wouldn’t want him to miss me.”

Steve lets out a loud laugh, and Eddie hides his pleased smile in Steve’s chest.

He can’t believe he’s doing this right now, can’t believe Steve’s arm tightens around him, pulls him closer so all he can feel and smell is Steve.

“You could just stay quiet while we fish,” Steve suggests, as if Eddie hasn’t thought of that already. “Just for a little bit.”

“That sounds boring.”

Steve pokes Eddie’s cheek with his other hand. Eddie nips at his fingertip before Steve can pull away. They both laugh.

It’s easy.

A knock on the door interrupts the casual cuddling, but Eddie knows it’s not because Steve’s ashamed to be caught with him like that. Steve isn’t used to this being okay.

“You boys up?” Wayne’s voice is barely muffled through the door, something Eddie notes for later.

“Yeah!” Eddie calls back, though he probably didn’t need to speak more than normal volume.

Steve is tense below him. Eddie hates that.

He tries to soothe him by running his hand along his side, memorizing the bumps of his scars, keeping his breathing even so Steve would calm down. Wayne wouldn’t walk in without Eddie telling him he could, but Steve must’ve assumed he didn’t respect his space that much.

“Breakfast is done. Just made eggs and toast.” Wayne knocks once more on the door before they can hear his footsteps walking back to the kitchen.

Steve relaxes and sighs.

“You don’t have to do that.” Eddie still traces along the scar on his hip. “Wayne’s cool.”

“I know.” Steve goes to sit up, but Eddie holds him down. “Eddie, I know. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to react like that.”

“There’s a price to pay before you get up.”

Steve snorts. “And what’s that?”

“A kiss.”

Steve kisses the top of Eddie’s head.

“Unfortunately, I won’t be accepting that form of payment.”

Steve’s hand cups Eddie’s cheek, thumb rubbing slowly as he guides his face up to look at him. Eddie hopes he can’t feel the heat on his skin, but the odds aren’t great.

“One kiss.”

“Only one?” Eddie pouts.

“Don’t wanna get carried away when we’re supposed to be getting up.” Steve leans in until his breath is hot against Eddie’s lips. “So one kiss and then you let me leave so we can go fishing with your uncle.”

“Fine.” Eddie can’t help smiling into the kiss. It’s quicker than he wants, but it’s perfect. When Steve pulls away, Eddie groans and falls flat on his back. “What if we fake sick?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve laughs as he gets out of bed and tries to get changed into regular clothes.

Eddie watches him, can’t wipe the smile off his face as Steve nearly trips over his own pant leg. He doesn’t even care if Steve catches him looking, not anymore.

He gets to look now.

After Eddie’s confession last night, after their first kiss, and the second and third, and talking for two hours by the water, it was pretty obvious that they were skipping over that new relationship awkwardness. Eddie hadn’t quite said he loved Steve, and Steve hadn’t said it either, but actions spoke louder than words. The way they couldn’t stop touching, the way Steve looked at Eddie while he talked about his most recent adventure with Dustin, the way Eddie watched Steve throw rocks as far as he could into the depths of the lake, it was all love.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m never leaving this room.” Steve is looking at him as he buttons his jeans and Eddie is considering sending Wayne on his own.

He waited months for this, but now it felt like waiting another hour was too much.

“Looking at you like what?” Eddie asks innocently.

“Like you wanna eat me.”

“Well…” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows and taps the bed. “I could eat breakfast in bed if you get back in it.”

Steve walks over to the bed, leans over Eddie, gets close enough to nip at his top lip.

“Get out of bed.” He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips before walking to the door. He leaves it open as he leaves the room without looking back.

Eddie curses Steve’s ability to get him to do anything, and reluctantly gets out of bed. He throws on his shorts, a tank top, and ties his bandana in his hair so he doesn’t have to worry about it sticking to his forehead.

When he gets to the kitchen, Wayne and Steve are staring out the window and whispering.

“I didn’t think we’d see a marsh hawk. Population’s been down for the last decade,” Wayne’s saying as Eddie walks up on his other side. “I’ve only seen one before and that was during a trip to Lake Michigan when I was 14 or 15.”

Eddie looks out the window, trying to see what they see. He’s not sure what a marsh hawk looks like, but he’s assuming it’s one of the birds in the nearby trees.

Steve wordlessly points it out to him.

“That’s a cool bird.” Eddie says at a normal volume. The bird spreads its wings out, acting as if it might take off. It’s beautiful, the white along its beak and chest a stunning contrast to its dark brown wings.

“It’s good luck to see one in some cases,” Wayne whispers as he turns away from the window. “Seeing one on your wedding day is supposed to lead to a long and happy marriage.”

“Too bad no one’s getting married here today,” Eddie remarks as he grabs a plate and starts to scoop eggs onto it.

“Not married. But still good luck,” Steve mutters as he follows Eddie. “So we just have to grab the cooler on our way out?”

Wayne nods. “And the bait.”

“I thought we used plastic stuff.”

“We use lures, but we put worms on there to get the fish to actually bite,” Wayne explains. “I’ve got plenty of stuff for bass, but I dunno how lucky we’ll be.”

Eddie nods along as he takes a huge bite of toast. “One time we forgot worms and had to use hot dogs.”

“Fish eat hot dogs?” Steve asks in surprise.

“Some fish settle for hot dogs. They don’t quite realize ‘til it’s too late that it ain’t their food,” Wayne shrugs. “But we got plenty of worms for this trip. Should be perfect fishing conditions.”

They all ate in silence after that, but Eddie could feel Steve’s nerves building the closer they all got to clean plates.

Steve didn’t have to say it for Eddie to know he desperately wanted to impress Wayne, especially now that they were…something. They probably needed to clarify exactly what they were at some point soon. They would. Eventually. Tonight maybe.

Or tomorrow.

“I’ll clean up if you boys wanna finish getting ready.” Wayne offered as he scraped the last of his eggs onto his fork.

Eddie took him up on his offer, jumping up to go brush his teeth and get his sneakers on.

“You comin’?” He asks Steve, who’s still slowly eating the eggs he drenched in ketchup.

“Just a second,” Steve replies with his mouth full. “You can use the bathroom first.”

Eddie nods and leaves the room.

He hears the sink in the kitchen running a few seconds later, and the hushed voices of Wayne and Steve having a whispered conversation. He could sneak back, try to listen in, but he thinks that maybe Steve needs this minute alone with him.

He finishes what he needs to do quickly, though, and admittedly sneaks back towards the kitchen quieter than he normally would, hoping to overhear something interesting.

But all he walks into is Steve laughing as Wayne smiles back.

Eddie doesn’t find that he minds much, as long as they’re both happy.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Being on the boat is different as an adult.

The last time Eddie fished with Wayne on a boat, he was barely shoulder height on him and 100 pounds soaking wet. It was a much smaller boat, though, barely fit two grown adults comfortably.

This boat, however, was built for a family of at least four adults. The awning covered half of the boat, so Eddie didn’t have to sit in direct sunlight when the sun finally rose.

Steve stood to the side, watching Wayne prep the lures and bait, casting his own line out and reeling it in until it was taut. Eddie went next, making a show of it just like he always did. Wayne doesn’t comment, just shakes his head and smiles fondly as he watches the water.

“Um,” Steve starts. “I guess it’s my turn.”

Eddie’s pretty sure Wayne knows Steve’s nervous. It’s hard not to tell with how quiet he’s been the entire ride to the middle of the lake.

Wayne sets his pole in the stand at the stern, and turns to Steve with his hands on his hips. “You saw how I cast mine?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t look sure. Eddie’s not really used to seeing Steve anything less than confident, even in the face of monsters.

It hits him the moment he thinks about monsters.

They’re on a lake. A lake very similar, though much larger, to the same lake that almost dragged Steve to his death. A lake he’d previously trusted, and no longer could.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just subtly places his hand against Steve’s hip, offering whatever comfort he can. Steve won’t admit he’s scared, but Eddie doesn’t need him to.

Wayne sees it, Eddie knows he does. But because he’s the best uncle, he doesn’t say anything.

He raises a brow and then schools his features back to a comforting smile before showing Steve how to hold the pole so he can cast it comfortably and far enough out that movements from the boat don’t scare the fish from the hook.

Eddie watches, and he sees the nerves slowly easing from Steve’s shoulders, his forehead, and his arms. He relaxes inch by inch, and Eddie couldn’t be more in love.

Wayne steps back so Steve can cast his line.

When the bobber hits the water, Wayne smiles and pats his shoulder. “Good job, son. Now reel it in a bit so you can feel if something bites. Good. Now we just wait.”

Steve turns red at the praise and Eddie realizes that Steve probably hasn’t heard a “good job” from an adult in a very, very long time.

Eddie’s childhood was fucked, but at least Wayne was there cheering him on, showing him what it meant to be proud of your kid eventually. He’s pretty sure Steve hasn’t had that for most of his life.

“How long do we wait?” Steve asks after a few minutes.

The lake is near silent, and the water is so smooth it looks like glass. If Eddie leaned over, he’d probably be able to see his reflection. The gentle lapping of water on the side of the boat and the distant sound of birds in the trees lining the water’s edge fills the air.

“I usually give it 10 or 15 minutes before reeling it in. Check my bait, maybe change the lure if there’s no bites.” Wayne’s watching the end of Steve’s line as he speaks. “I used bass lures on all of ours, but we might change them up in a minute. See what else is out there.”

Steve nods and turns back.

Wayne doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve’s bobber.

Eddie watches Wayne curiously.

Anytime he’s fished with Wayne, he’s left Eddie to his own devices after showing him what to do. He watches his own line, and only steps in to help if Eddie catches something and doesn’t wanna touch the fish.

Wayne’s eyes widen just as Steve exclaims, “Hey! Look!”

“Reel it in!” Wayne shouts, setting his pole down again and rushing to stand next to Steve.

Eddie turns and watches as Steve reels in whatever he’s caught. Judging by the bend in the pole, it’s a decent sized fish.

“Shit, what if it breaks?” Steve asks, voice shaking with the effort of trying to reel in the fish before it escapes.

“It won’t. Keep going.”

When they manage to get the fish out of the water and into the boat, Steve is breathless.

“Look at that!” Wayne holds up the line, right above where the hook is caught in the fish’s mouth, beaming at Steve. “Our boy got himself a king salmon!”

Ignoring his mention of “our” boy, Eddie steps closer and grips Steve’s shoulder, shaking him just enough to make the boat rock.

“How can you tell?” Steve asks Wayne, reaching out to hold the fish up himself.

“You see all these black spots on his back and fins?” Wayne points at a few of the spots. “Other salmon don’t have this many spots or any at all. You keepin’ him or throwin’ him back?”

Steve looks at Eddie, smile falling as he suddenly looks unsure about what the right thing to do is. Before Eddie can say anything, Wayne wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“Either is fine with me. Could cook him up for supper if you wanna keep him or send him back to his friends with a new piercing.” Wayne looks over at Eddie. “Eddie ain’t much for seafood, but I make a mean baked salmon.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, think I’ll keep this one.”

Wayne pats his shoulder again before showing him how to unhook the fish safely. He opens up the empty cooler he brought and places the fish inside.

Wayne moves to grab the bait so Steve can set up again, and while his back is turned, Eddie takes a chance.

He leans over and kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“You’re a natural,” Eddie whispers as he leans away again.

“Shut up.” Steve is blushing that same pretty pink that he was last night and earlier this morning. Eddie can’t look away. “Just lucky.”

Wayne catches two rainbow trout and Eddie manages to catch a small northern pike, which quickly gets thrown back when Eddie starts to make up a story about how it’s a teenager who got separated from its parents. Wayne shakes his head as Eddie carries on, but he’s used to it. Eddie never keeps his catch if he’s lucky enough to have one.

They relax as the day warms up, popping open cans of soda as the sun gets closer to the middle of the sky. It’s not about fishing anymore; It’s about soaking up the tranquility of their surroundings.

Eddie isn’t known for being still or quiet, but even he can let himself enjoy this. Every day since March has been about survival, and appointments, and witness statements, and lawyers, and moving, and the kids. He feels like he’s barely even had time to think.

So while he sits on this boat with two of his favorite people, he thinks.

He thinks about how different his life is now, and how different it could still be.

He thinks about how much Wayne has sacrificed for him for most of his life, but especially the last five months.

He thinks about how much he wants to tell Steve he loves him.

He thinks he’ll tell him tonight.

📼📼📼📼📼

Steve sits on the porch while Wayne cleans the fish, staying a good distance away so he doesn’t end up seeing things that’ll make him wish he left the poor salmon in the lake. Eddie’s inside doing god knows what.

He’s never been happier.

He does wish Robin could be here, but she hates the outdoors. She didn’t even like going on her family’s beach trip last month.

Plus, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to have the alone time he needed with Eddie last night if she were here. Even though she’s been telling him to just talk to him for the last three months, she wouldn’t have caught on to his plan.

Feeling this much for Eddie isn’t new.

After the events of spring break, Steve took a long, hard look at high school and realized that at least part of the reason he was always staring at Eddie was because he was very interested. He started looking for any excuse to stick around in Eddie’s hospital room, and then offered to take him to appointments, and it continued from there.

Now, they hang out almost every day. Sometimes it’s with the kids, sometimes with Robin, sometimes alone.

Steve realizes that even before they kissed and fell asleep holding each other and flirted as much as possible all day, this was the best relationship he’s ever had. He needs to tell Eddie as soon as they’re alone.

“All done,” Wayne says as he steps onto the porch, the container of cleaned fish in his hand. “You ready to learn the secret to makin’ the best fish?”

Steve is quick to nod, excited that Wayne thinks he’s even worth the time it’ll take to show him. Wayne’s been so kind this entire trip, making sure Steve is involved and welcomed, makes him feel like he belongs in their little family.

As Wayne grabs everything they’ll need, Steve sees Eddie through their bedroom door, writing in a journal, tongue poking between his lips as he concentrates. Steve’s never seen this journal, but he can assume it’s another one of his many already filled with songs and campaign ideas.

“You done starin’ at Ed?” Wayne’s voice is quiet behind him, but still makes him jump with surprise.

“Wasn’t staring at him. Thought I saw a…um…bug?” Steve knows he’s been caught halfway through trying to lie, so he moves on. “Ready?”

“Are you?” Wayne raises a brow and smirks.

“Yes!” Steve puts his hands on his hips. “What are you implying?”

“Mostly that you’re too in love with my nephew to focus on what I’m sayin’.”

Steve feels heat in his cheeks, but he chooses to ignore it and pretend that he can distract Wayne from what he’s saying.

“So we’re frying your fish and baking my salmon?” Steve starts holding up some of the spices Wayne’s set out on the counter. He can feel Wayne’s eyes on him. “Looks like you like spice.”

“Steve.” Wayne sighs. “It’s okay to feel however you feel. I ain’t gonna judge.”

“Right. Yeah.” Steve turns to finally look at Wayne, who looks sad. He shouldn’t look sad right now.

“Eddie ever tell ya about Paul?” Wayne starts filling one pan with oil and the other with a few small pads of butter.

Steve shakes his head, watching closely.

“Paul was my boyfriend when Ed first came to live with me.”

Steve’s eyes widen as that hits him.

“Woulda been my husband had we been able to be married.” Wayne starts mixing flour, salt, and pepper in a bowl while he talks. “He was a long haul truck driver. Gone for weeks at a time. Stayed with me when he passed through. Came home one day to Eddie asleep in the bed we usually shared and asked if I’d been up to something.”

Wayne smiles fondly down at the bowl of eggs, buttermilk, lemon juice, and garlic he’d started mixing together as he spoke.

“Told him everything. Expected him to call it quits. He didn’t sign up for raising a troubled kid, especially not one who may not be okay with what we had.” Wayne stops and looks up at Steve. “But he just hugged me and said he’d follow my lead. Whatever was best for Ed was what was best for us. Ain’t sure I could ever find a love like that again.”

Steve can feel tears trying to form in his eyes, but he manages to bite them back. He’s pretty sure he knows where this is going, but he listens without interrupting.

“Ed didn’t take too well to him at first. Probably ‘cause he was in and out so much, didn’t get time to bond with him like I did. Paul was patient. Always so patient with both of us.” Wayne shakes his head and looks down at the counter before he looks up smiling again. “Ed came out to Paul first, ya know? When he was 13. He’d gone on a short haul with him over the summer and when they came back, they were thick as thieves. Paul told me that night that Ed had told him he liked boys and it changed their entire relationship. I was Uncle Wayne, but Paul was like a dad to him. Definitely more than his own dad ever was.”

Wayne looked over to check that Eddie was still in the bedroom, distracted by his writing.

“Paul started taking short hauls instead of long ones. Only gone three or four days at a time instead of 14-20. Thought it was so he could be close to Ed, since we’d kinda become our own little family.”

Steve realizes he’s holding his breath when Wayne sniffs.

“He’d gotten sick and didn’t tell us. Started out thinkin’ it was pneumonia, but it got worse. Doctor thought it was heart problems, but it was everywhere. Leukemia. Untreatable by the time they figured it out.”

Steve’s wrapping his arms around Wayne before he even realizes he’s doing it, letting the tears fall as he thinks about how much pain Wayne and Eddie must’ve gone through to lose someone so important to them.

“Ed was barely 14 when he passed. I think he took it harder than me.”

Steve can’t even imagine. Wayne lost someone he loved, but Eddie lost a father figure after losing his real father to things he should never have had to compete with. And now Eddie’s father was really dead.

All he really has is Wayne.

“Kid shaved his head in solidarity when Paul lost what little hair he had left,” Wayne huffs a wet laugh as they pull away from each other. “Couldn’t believe it when I got home from work and they were both bald as cue balls. Thought they’d lost it.”

Steve and Wayne are both laughing, and it’s probably going to draw Eddie’s attention, but he kinda hopes it does. He could use Eddie’s closeness right now. He needs to see that he’s okay, that this didn’t completely destroy him, that he went on anyway.

But all Eddie does is yell at them to keep it down, which just makes them laugh harder.

“And you never dated anyone else?” Steve asks as Wayne starts putting his fishin the egg mixture. “Not even for fun?”

“Nah. Once Paul was gone, I had to work more to pay the bills. What little time I had was spent with Ed. He was my priority, always.”

Steve wipes the tears from his cheeks as he watches Wayne drop the fish into the hot oil.

“What about now?” Eddie was busy with his own life now, and they’d received enough money from the government to cover their new trailer and have plenty leftover to cover bills. Wayne was retired and had plenty of time to start dating again.

“I got lucky with Paul. It ain’t fair to compare any future relationship to what we had and I think that’s all I’d do. I’m happy the way things are for now.”

Steve drops it for now, but he makes a note to ask Eddie about it soon. He’s surprised Eddie never mentioned Paul, or even the fact that Wayne was gay, especially when he came out to Steve and Robin while he was still in the hospital.

Wayne goes on to explain how long he keeps the fish in the oil before flipping them to make sure the cooking is even, and how putting them onto paper towels to cool drains too much of the grease.

As Steve watches him prep the salmon with a glaze he made from garlic, honey, and lemon juice, Eddie finally comes out of the bedroom.

“Smells like fish,” he says with a grin.

“That’d be the fish.” Wayne doesn’t even bother looking over at him as he leans against the counter. “Salmon is already a tender fish, so you can bake it to whatever you prefer. It should only take about 10 minutes on 400 unless you like it extra crispy, then you may wanna do it for 13 minutes.”

“Chef Wayne teaching you everything you need to know?” Eddie asks Steve, stepping close enough for Steve to feel the heat coming from his body.

“He’s pretty talented. Might need to consider opening a restaurant,” Steve teases.

“Wait ‘til you have his steak. So tender you could cut it with a spoon.”

“Don’t know what you’re after with your compliments, but I’d rather ya just ask for it.” Wayne checked the clock as he closed the oven door.

“I was just bein’ nice!” Eddie exclaims, throwing his arms up in frustration. Steve never noticed how Eddie’s accent changes the more time he spends around Wayne, but he smiles to himself when it slips now. “See if I give ya a compliment again, old man.”

Steve watches as they banter back and forth some more, both of them smiling and laughing the entire time.

It’s nothing like what Steve was used to. His parents never bantered, only fought. Anything that was big enough for discussion, was big enough to yell about. As Steve got older, he learned that staying quiet and letting them get it out would usually turn out better for him. Luckily, once he reached middle school, they didn’t bother coming home enough for him to worry about what to do when they were arguing.

He doesn’t remember a time when there was fun and laughter between them, not even when he was a young child. He can remember his mom dancing with him while his dad was gone on business trips, but the moment he arrived home, the air became thick with tension and her attitude became somber. He remembers one time when his dad let him sit on his desk while he worked, making paper airplanes and having a competition to see how far they could fly, but the moment the phone rang, he was hissing a ‘get out’ with no explanation for the abrupt stop to the fun.

Steve couldn’t imagine talking to either of his parents the way Eddie talks to Wayne, but he also couldn’t imagine receiving the love from them that Wayne so easily gives to Eddie.

And now that he knows another piece of their story, he can see how they’ve come to be like this, comfortable with each other in ways many kids never are with their parents.

Steve’s mind continues to wander throughout dinner, but no one calls him out on it. Maybe Wayne somehow communicated with Eddie that they’d had a serious conversation. Maybe it was just obvious that Steve was far away from the table. Eddie and Wayne chattered as they ate, and Steve let the constant echoes of their voices be the background noise to his thoughts.

“Stevie?” Eddie’s hand touched his cheek, shaking him out of the path he was lost on. “Wayne’s gonna take a walk. You wanna go?”

Steve smiles up at Eddie before looking down at his plate. He barely remembers eating, but he only has a few small pieces of salmon left.

“Sounds good.”

Eddie looks concerned, but Steve brushes him off. He looks around, and when he doesn’t see Wayne in the room with them, turns his face so he can kiss Eddie’s palm.

“Should we grab the bug spray?” Steve asks as he stands, pushing in his chair and grabbing his plate off the table to wash it.

“Wayne’s got it outside. Think he put enough on for all of us,” Eddie follows close behind Steve. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“A lot.” Steve brushes it off so they can join Wayne. “Ready?”

Eddie nods and leads the way out of the cabin.

They ate an early dinner, so the sun is still high in the sky as they make their way down a trail that follows the lake’s edge. Eddie occasionally gets distracted by colorful rocks, holding them up excitedly for Steve and Wayne to acknowledge.

Steve knows the love he has for Eddie is written all over his face.

He doesn’t care to hide it.

Wayne’s quiet as they walk, occasionally pointing out a fish splashing in the distance or a heron standing in the water. He swats a mosquito away from Steve’s face, only for the mosquito to turn around and bite his hand. Eddie’s far too busy climbing over fallen limbs and branches of trees to notice what they’re doing.

“You boys should go for a swim when we get back. Water’s cool.” Wayne makes the suggestion without looking at Steve, who suddenly feels like he’s being studied under a microscope.

“Not sure if Eddie even brought a swimsuit.” Steve laughs it off, hopes they can go back to silence or change the subject.

“I’m sure you boys could figure something out.”

Thankfully, the topic gets dropped and Steve is left wondering if Wayne knows.

Sure, he joked about Steve being in love with Eddie earlier, but that wasn’t a confirmation that he knew they were together. He thought they’d been careful today, but maybe Wayne caught them when they kissed by the truck when Eddie was grabbing his wallet from the glovebox.

He doesn’t have time to think about it more because Eddie lets out a yelp and they can only watch as he falls on his ass into a muddy spot between two large rocks.

“I hate the outdoors,” he grumbles as he stands.

Wayne is laughing, but Steve is rushing over to make sure he’s okay.

“Are you hurt?” Steve’s hands are hovering over him, trying to figure out if he sees any blood. “Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” Eddie replies quietly, holding his arms out as if trying to show proof. “My dignity may be a bit bruised.”

They’re interrupted by the hooting of an owl. It’s loud enough that Wayne shushes them and starts looking around at the trees surrounding them, trying to locate the creature.

It hoots again before Wayne locates it, pointing to a tree only ten feet away and to their right.

“Wow.” Steve says as he gets a close look at it, the white and tan feathers blending into beautiful patterns. “It’s so small. I thought owls were bigger.”

Eddie’s looking up at it, smiling.

To Steve’s shock, he’s the one who responds, not Wayne.

“It’s a northern saw-whet owl. They’re closer to the size of a robin than an owl you may be thinking of.” Eddie reaches for Steve’s hand and squeezes it once before letting it drop. “Paul taught me about all kinds of owls.”

Steve’s head snaps towards him. “You heard us this morning, didn’t you?”

“You weren’t quiet,” Eddie shrugged. “I used to be obsessed with nocturnal animals. He bought me a book about bats and owls for Christmas and went through it page by page with me.”

“I remember that book,” Wayne looks at the owl while he talks. “Paul said it made him nervous to go out at night.”

Eddie laughs. “He was convinced we’d get attacked.”

Steve can’t blame him. The longer he looks at the owl’s impossibly large eyes and spread wings, the more he believes he’s being hunted.

“Ready to head back?” Wayne asks after another minute, drawing his attention away.

“Wish I had a camera like Byers. Probably could get a good picture.” Eddie says as he starts to walk back the way they came.

Steve takes note to ask Jonathan about his so he can get him one for Christmas.

When they make it back to the cabin, Wayne excuses himself to take a shower and do a crossword before bed, which leaves Steve and Eddie to fill their time however they want. Steve thinks back to Wayne’s suggestion about going for a swim, but he’s not sure Eddie would want to now that the sun’s almost set.

He’s not even sure he wants to get into the lake after dark.

But it does sound appealing, especially with the layer of damp sweat coating his skin from their walk. And there is a light on the dock that would make it easier to at least see each other.

“Wanna go for a swim?” Steve asks Eddie as he sips on a soda.

“Now?” Eddie looks out the window in the kitchen, frowning at the darkness looming.

“Now.”

“It’s dark.”

“We can turn on the light at the dock. C’mon. Just a quick dip,” Steve nudges his shoulder as he starts walking to the back door, fully dressed.

“You’re not gonna change?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Don’t plan on wearing my clothes in.” Steve winks as he leaves, knowing Eddie will follow him even if he’s hesitant to do so.

Within seconds, the back door is closing and Eddie is on his heels.

“Are we seriously skinny dipping in the lake while my uncle is here?” Eddie hisses out, hand covering Steve’s forearm.

“I’m skinny dipping. You can do whatever you want,” Steve responds. “But I wouldn’t complain if you joined me.”

Eddie huffs beside him, but still follows him the rest of the way to the water’s edge. The light has a covered power switch to their right, but now that they’re in an open area by the water, they realize the moon is pretty bright.

Steve starts stripping off his shirt, then his shoes and socks. Eddie watches, probably trying to decide if he’s gonna join him or go back inside and pretend Steve isn’t naked in the water. When Steve pulls his pants off, Eddie sighs and starts untying his boots.

“Can’t believe you have me getting into another lake. Wasn’t the first time enough?” Eddie’s grumbling loud enough for Steve to hear, but quiet enough that Steve only catches every couple of words and has to use context clues for the rest. He can’t hold back a smile when he shoves his underwear down and leaves them on top of his pile of clothes.

Eddie is still grumbling as he removes his own clothes, enough that he’s distracting himself from realizing Steve’s already naked and waiting for him.

When he looks up, his eyes widen and his jaw drops open.

“You’re gonna catch flies like that,” Steve steps closer as he speaks, feeling more nervous than he expected to. “Probably should get in so the mosquitos don’t get us.”

“Right.” Eddie shakes his head, closing his eyes so he can focus. “Yes. Let’s get in.”

Steve grabs his hand and walks them both to the water. The water is chilly, but not uncomfortably cold. He knows in the next few weeks, the temperature will drop enough at night to cause the lake to be freezing cold. But right now, it’s perfect.

Being here with Eddie is perfect.

Eddie breathes out slowly as they keep walking further in, squeezing Steve’s hand.

“All good?” Steve asks when they’re waist deep.

“Yep. All good. How uh…how far do you wanna go?” Eddie’s looking out at what little they can see of the lake, even with the moonlight glistening off the tiny waves of the lake.

“Just a little more.”

Steve doesn’t take Eddie’s trust for granted here, knows that he’s asking a lot of him.

When the water is just below his collarbone, he stops.

Eddie is tense next to him, but doesn’t seem to be panicking.

“Okay?” Steve asks.

Eddie looks around and then settles back on Steve. “I’m okay.”

Something about the way he says it makes Steve pause, though.

“You can let it out if you need to, baby,” he offers. He’s not sure what it is specifically that makes him think Eddie’s on the edge of tears, but he wants to give him the chance to cry. “I’m right here.”

Eddie doesn’t sob, or cry, or do anything for a minute. They’re both looking out at the dark lake and the moon above, listening to crickets and a gentle breeze in the leaves of the trees nearby. Eddie’s breathing just stops for a few seconds and that’s all the warning Steve gets before he’s sniffling and talking.

“My dad was a piece of shit,” he starts. Steve is gonna follow his lead, and listen, and let Eddie tell him whatever he wants to. Even if that’s all he says. “He hated me. Pretty sure he hated my mom towards the end of her life, too. Anything that put attention on someone other than him was no good. That’s why he got involved with the closest thing Hawkins had to a mafia.”

Steve rubs his thumb against the side of Eddie’s hand under the water, prompting him to continue.

“He ranked pretty high with them so he got plenty of attention. Forgot that he had a wife and a kid. When my mom died, he temporarily got more attention from everyone. Made sure he looked like the mourning husband trying to be strong for the son he barely knew. Even at four and five years old I knew he was full of shit. But at least he was taking me with him sometimes, showing me cool shit. He got arrested when I was seven for petty theft and possession of drugs. Got lucky that the judge believed his sob story of being the only one who could take care of me.” Eddie scoffed. “Paid a fine with money he stole and had to do 80 hours of community service that his boss signed off on after a few weeks. Didn’t care that the only meals I ate were at school and the neighbor’s house when she saw me alone for dinner. Didn’t care that I never had school supplies or clothes that fit. Didn’t care that I missed school anytime I missed the bus, which was often because he never gave me an alarm clock to set to get up in time.”

Steve wants to cry, hearing how shitty Eddie’s childhood was, but he refuses to right now. He doesn’t want Eddie to stop talking.

“When I was nine, he taught me how to steal a car. I could barely see over the steering wheel, but it was the first time I made him proud.” Eddie clears his throat. “He got sent to prison when I was 11. I got put in the system because everything is a mess and Wayne wasn’t even listed as my uncle anywhere. Wayne heard about it all a few weeks later and didn’t stop pushing to have me in his care until they gave in. I’m surprised they put up so much of a fight considering they don’t usually care that much about poor kids with shit parents. Wayne fought for me and I didn’t even know how much he did until I was older.”

Steve glances over to see tears falling down Eddie’s face. He let go of Eddie’s hand to wrap his arm around his waist instead, pulling him against his side.

“He didn’t have to do that. He just knew what a piece of shit my dad was and apparently checked on me a few times a year without me or him knowing. And he told you about Paul.” Steve nods. “Paul was in and out a lot at first, made me suspicious. Thought he was up to no good and just using Wayne as a place to sleep when he wasn’t in the truck. But then he took me with him a few times over the summer and we got closer. I don’t think Wayne even knows how much that man loved him. He was gonna start working more local jobs sooner until I came into the picture and Wayne was struggling to keep up with bills. Long haul makes more money, so he stayed out. Made sure I had clothes and school supplies, made sure I ate three meals a day and had whatever snacks I wanted. Sent payments to the electric company before Wayne even got the bill so I never had to worry about sleeping through alarms or not being able to take a hot shower.”

Steve didn’t realize he was crying until Eddie reached his thumb up to wipe away a tear.

“He was my father in the ways that mattered to me, just like Wayne has been. Losing him was more painful than anything I feel about my dad dying now. All I feel now is guilt that I feel anything at all.”

Steve uses the arm wrapped around Eddie’s waist and the weightlessness the water allows to lift him up and guide his legs around his waist. He’s looking up at the man he loves, holding the back of his thighs, and wishing he could take every shitty feeling away with his words of comfort.

“You can feel however you feel. I’ll love you through it all,” Steve reassures him. Eddie’s breath catches at his words, and Steve knows he chose the right thing to say at the right time. “No one who cares about you is gonna judge you for having any emotion about your dad dying. If you wanted to stand in the middle of a table in the cafeteria at the school and cheer, I’d sit at the table and cheer you on. If you want to show up at his grave and scream and cry, I’ll hold your hand the whole time. So will Wayne. And so would Paul.”

Eddie sobs as he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and hides his face against Steve’s neck. Steve can feel the wetness of his tears, can feel his own still falling into the water below. He doesn’t care how long they stay like that, doesn’t even care if this is all they do all night.

But only a few minutes later, Eddie is pulling back and looking down at Steve, hands playing with the wet ends of his hair.

“I didn’t expect any of this this weekend,” he admits. “I should learn to stop having expectations.”

Steve’s lips turn up in a half-smile as Eddie rests his forehead against his. “Better or worse than what you expected?”

Eddie snorts. “Better. Always better with you.”

Steve’s glad it’s dark enough to hide his blush, but he’s sure Eddie knows what he does to him by now. If he doesn’t, he will soon enough.

Eddie traces a line along Steve’s neck, gently poking at his moles as he watches his own movements. Steve holds him, lets him do what he wants, feels every touch like lightning.

“I love you,” he finally says, barely more than a whisper, like he’s unsure it’s okay, even after Steve’s confession. “I think I have for a while.”

Steve wants to kiss him, but this moment still feels like a part of Eddie’s monologue. He wants Eddie to lead now, to show him how to love him. Whatever he needs, Steve will give it willingly and gladly.

“How long until Wayne comes to make sure we didn’t drown?” Eddie asks.

“Probably not unless we’re still gone by morning.”

“As lovely as being in your arms all night sounds, I don’t know if I’d wanna stay in the water that long,” Eddie laughs as his legs tighten around Steve’s waist. Their mostly soft cocks brush against each other, making them both inhale loudly. “A little longer might not be so bad, though.”

Steve’s finding it harder not to kiss him, not to let his hands wander from Eddie’s thighs, up to his waist, back to his ass. He resists, but Eddie shifts his weight again and everything gets harder.

“You’re killing me.” Steve groans, letting his head fall back so he can look up at the stars in the sky instead of the ones in Eddie’s eyes.

“Look at me.” Eddie’s tone’s shifted to something serious, still adorned with an affection Steve can’t believe he gets to hear. Steve looks at him with his lips parted and unblinking eyes. “I wanna be yours. Will you let me?”

Steve nods. That’s all he can do.

Eddie’s lips are against his, gently coaxing them apart further so he can slip his tongue inside. Steve’s not even thinking about how he hasn’t brushed his teeth or eaten a mint since supper, the warmth of Eddie’s hands circling behind his back and rubbing his shoulders enough of a distraction even without his tongue gliding against the roof of his mouth.

Eddie’s hands are slow, but on a very clear path downwards as his tongue traces Steve’s bottom lip. Steve lets his own hands slip to Eddie’s lower back, lets a finger trace up and back down his spine.

Eddie shivers in his arms.

“Cold?” Steve whispers.

Eddie shakes his head. “Feels good.”

So Steve does it again, with more pressure, hoping Eddie gets the hint.

When Eddie’s hips grind forward, he knows he did.

They’re both nearly fully hard now, lips meeting again, hungrier and biting. Their moans vibrate between their chests, every movement rippling the water around them.

Eddie’s rocking his hips back and forth, friction against their cocks not quite enough to do more than get them more worked up.

The water doesn’t feel cool anymore, Steve’s body already adjusted to the temperature the moment Eddie’s hands were on him.

“Can I touch you?” Eddie asks, bringing Steve out of his thoughts about doing this in his pool when they got home. His hand is flat against Steve’s stomach, fingertips dragging through his happy trail.

“Want you to feel good too, love,” Steve trails one of his hands to Eddie’s front, stopping for a moment on the angry scars covering his side. “Together?”

Eddie slides impossibly closer, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks at once. Steve’s legs would’ve buckled without the help of the lake holding him up.

“Together is good,” Eddie smirks as his hand works them both over, squeezing at the tip the way Steve likes.

Steve had every intention of helping, but he’s doing all he can to keep his feet on the sandy ground and Eddie’s legs wrapped around his waist. He whimpers as Eddie leans in to kiss him slowly, a contradiction to his hand speeding up around them.

“Eddie, I’m…close.” Steve pants against his lips when he pulls back for air. His toes are curling in the sand below, and the small waves around them are splashing against their necks as Eddie’s hand moves faster. Steve’s bucking up into his touch, doesn’t care how desperate he seems.

“Me too, Stevie.” Eddie reassures him, just as breathless as Steve is.

Despite the words spoken and the increasing heat coiling in his belly, Steve gasps in surprise when he comes. He’s even more surprised when Eddie is right behind him, whispering Steve’s name repeatedly as his grip around them tightens then loosens.

Chests heaving, legs shaking, they stare at each other in the glow of the moonlight.

“I normally last a lot longer,” Steve breaks the silence.

Eddie breaks into loud laughter, head falling onto Steve’s shoulder before he realizes that the water is too high to do that without getting wet. He drops his legs and stands, keeping his arms wrapped around Steve’s waist for stability.

“New record for me, too, baby.”

“Next time, we’ll take our time.” Steve promises not only Eddie, but himself. He knows he has better self control than what Eddie just witnessed.

“You wanna head inside and take our time there?” Eddie’s smirking at him, fingers playfully teasing his sides under the water.

“Not sure I can be quiet enough.”

“Even if you bite a pillow?” Eddie pouts.

“I can be pretty loud,” Steve laughs, poking his bottom lip back to normal. “Plus, I’d like to be in one of our own beds when we ma- have sex.”

“Oh my god. Were you gonna say make love?” Eddie is squeezing his arms around him, lifting Steve up so most of his chest is out of the water. Steve’s hands rest against his shoulders, fingertips pruned from being in the water for a while.

“Maybe I was.” Steve knows he’s a sap. He doesn’t care if Eddie thinks it’s silly or stupid, but he does wanna avoid blowing this before it even has a chance to begin.

Eddie must see something in his eyes to keep him from pushing it more. He lets him back down slowly, soft smile on his face.

“I love that you care that much.” Eddie kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I promise we’ll hold off on making love until we’re back home.”

Steve smiles shyly back at him.

“But I wouldn’t be opposed to getting my mouth on you after we shower.”

Steve smacks Eddie’s arm and rolls his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous. I love you.”

“You really do, don’t you?” Eddie sounds awestruck, like it’s suddenly hit him that this is happening, that Steve feels this much for him.

“I really do.”

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Waking up in Steve’s arms for the second morning in a row felt too good to be true.

Most of this trip had felt too good to be true. Last night definitely felt like a dream.

He lets his eyes track over Steve’s bare chest, his neck, his lips pouting out as he sleeps. His eyelids are fluttering, but he’s still asleep, probably coming out of a dream.

Eddie’s fingers trace what’s left of the scar around his neck, touch light enough that Steve wouldn’t feel it in his sleep. He thinks about Steve’s bravery, how he dived head first into everything, be it protecting people from monsters or falling in love. Eddie knows Steve went without medical care after most run-ins in the Upside Down, and had only gotten some last time when Wayne insisted he do so while Eddie was in surgery.

The neck scars faded after they were patched up by a nurse, but many of his other wounds were deeper and infected, leaving a permanent reminder on his back and sides much like Eddie’s.

He traced along the outer lines of one of the scars shaped like a heart on his chest. Steve insisted it was just a weird oval, but Eddie insisted that it was a heart over his heart.

His chest hair has grown back in around it, nearly covering it up if you didn’t look close enough.

Eddie is close enough now.

It’s definitely a heart.

“Not sure how I feel about you staring at my chest that close,” Steve’s raspy voice fills his ear and he looks up to see Steve’s sleepy eyes looking at him. “Max at least had the decency to look from a distance.”

“Ha.” Eddie fake laughs. “I was just admiring your bountiful chest hair and the heart you wear on your sleeve.”

“It’s not a heart,” Steve groans as he covers Eddie’s head with his arms, pulling him on top of him. “You’re just blinded by love.”

“Who knew I’d be the optimist in this relationship?” Eddie breathes against Steve’s lips.

“Probably everyone who’s ever seen me in a relationship.” Steve kisses him quick, just a peck. “Let me up.”

“You’re the one who put me here.” Eddie doesn’t move. “Take me with you if you need to go so badly.”

“Eds, c’mon. I gotta brush my teeth.”

“So do I.”

Steve sighs. Eddie smiles.

“Fine.”

As Steve stands from the bed, Eddie wraps his legs around his waist, a mirror image to their time in the lake. Eddie’s not actually expecting Steve to carry him more than a few steps, but he blushes when he makes it all the way to the bedroom door.

“Still wanna come with me?” Steve raises his eyebrows like he knows Eddie didn’t expect him to take it this far.

“Can you seriously carry me down the hall?”

Steve stares blankly back at him. “I carried you for almost a mile when we got out of the Upside Down.”

“Touché.”

Steve manages to open the door with one hand before it goes back to Eddie’s leg, hoisting him up further so he has a better grip. Eddie just stares down at Steve’s face in amazement.

“Hey Wayne,” Steve says as they pass Wayne’s room. “Sleep okay?”

“Uh huh. There a reason you’re carrying the prince?” Wayne asks, causing Eddie to turn his head and scowl. “Wake up grumpy?”

“Woke up lazy.” Steve responded as he continued on the journey to the bathroom.

Once there, Steve set Eddie down on the floor and handed him his toothbrush. They brush their teeth together, smiling when they catch each other's eye in the mirror.

“Will you kiss me for real now?” Eddie asks after they’ve finished.

“Are you gonna walk to the kitchen by yourself or will I have to carry you?” Steve retorts.

“Your kiss will give me the power to make it.”

Steve snorts a laugh and leans in, his palm resting against Eddie’s jaw to pull him the last inch or so. The kiss is nothing like their back and forth. Steve consumes him, and Eddie lets him.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there, but he thinks it must be longer than they should.

Wayne clears his throat from the doorway. “Didn’t realize this was a part of brushin’ teeth these days.”

Eddie leaps away from Steve, panicked at the thought of Wayne knowing suddenly. He’s been out to Wayne for so long, he forgets that others probably aren’t comfortable being so open. Steve especially, who’s mentioned before that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to come out to everyone until he was sure they’d be okay with it.

“Relax, Ed. I clocked Steve months ago.” Wayne pushes past them to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste. “Move your relations outta here.”

“Relations?” Eddie gags. “Way to ruin the moment.”

“Sorry to ruin your delicate sensibilities. Get out.”

Steve pushes Eddie out of the small bathroom before he can respond. Eddie decides to focus on Steve’s hands on him instead of arguing further.

“Should we make breakfast?” Steve asks as they walk back to the bedroom to get dressed.

“I shouldn’t ever touch an oven, but I’ll watch you lovingly while you make breakfast, darling,” Eddie bats his eyelashes at Steve, who throws his shirt at him. “That’s not very nice. Did I not, and I quote, suck the soul-“

Steve’s hand covers his mouth while he sputters to cover Eddie’s voice from traveling out of the room.

“Jesus, the mouth on you.”

“That’s what you said last night.” Eddie’s words are muffled under Steve’s hand, but they both laugh. “I can make toast.”

“I’ll make the rest.”

Eddie spends the morning touching Steve as much as possible.

He spends the afternoon sneaking kisses and holding him in the hammock set up on the porch thanks to Wayne’s creativity.

He spends the evening watching Wayne and Steve fish while he drinks a beer and hands them whatever they need.

This is a peace that may only last until they leave tomorrow, but something tells him that this is only the beginning of a future Eddie never could’ve pictured for himself.

🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣

five years later

Wayne slams the truck door a bit harder than he means to. The rain just started coming down harder and he wanted to get his bag in the cabin before it got worse.

When he enters the front door, the scent of freshly baked cookies wafts through the air and he smiles.

“Made it, boys!” He yells, though he’s pretty sure speaking at a normal volume would’ve been enough. The cabin hasn’t changed much, but Steve insisted on opening up the front portion so it felt more welcoming.

“Wayne!” Steve exclaims as he pops up from behind the counter of the kitchen. “You just missed Eddie. He went out to the trail.”

Wayne gives Steve a tight hug. At Steve’s frown, he laughs. “Sorry ‘bout the wet clothes. Started raining the last couple miles in and got heavier just as I was leavin’ the truck.”

“Oh no.” Steve groaned.

Just as he spoke, the back door slammed open and Eddie dropped his camera bag on the floor.

Wayne and Steve both took in the sight of him, drenched from head to toe, dripping onto the tile floor, and laughed.

“I hate the outdoors.”

“You’re a nature photographer. You hate the rain.” Steve walks over to him, still laughing under his breath. He picks up the bag before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Wayne watches the exchange, fighting tears back at the reason he was invited to their cabin this weekend.

Eddie was proposing to Steve and wanted Wayne to be there to capture it with his camera. He didn’t care that Wayne was an old man who could barely operate a camera, he just wanted someone to do it.

He knew Eddie was also a little nervous and having Wayne there would help keep him calm.

Why he was nervous, Wayne didn’t know.

They couldn’t legally get married, but they might as well be anyway.

“Wayne!” Eddie bounces over to him and throws his arms around him, forgetting for a moment that he’s soaked. “You’re here!”

“I’m here. I’d like to be less wet, though.”

Eddie backs up and Wayne pats his shoulder.

“Both of you should go get changed. Dinner’s ready in ten minutes.” Steve interrupts on his way to put Eddie’s camera bag in their room.

“Yes, dear,” Eddie replies. Steve turns and glares for a moment before continuing on his way. Once he’s out of sight, Eddie sighs. “God, I love that man.”

“That’s why I’m here, ain’t it?” Wayne playfully shoves at Eddie’s arm. “We better listen to him. I’m starvin’ and I think he’d make us fend for ourselves if we show up at the table dripping wet.”

As Wayne changes, he can hear Steve laughing in their room, Eddie talking about something he saw outside in the usual dramatic way he spoke. He thinks back to the first time he brought his boys here together, how hushed they tried to be, how hesitant.

He looked over at a photo Eddie framed for this room so Wayne had something when he came to stay.

Paul was smiling at the camera, arm wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders, Wayne looking at both of them with a smile. He remembers laughing right after the picture was taken, and giving in and buying them both cotton candy. They insisted it wouldn’t make them sick, then proceeded to both rush to the nearest garbage can after they got off the Gravitron at the fair.

“Wayne! Steve’s bullying me!” Eddie yells.

“You probably deserve it!” He yells back.

“Unbelievable!” Eddie screams.

“Ha!” Steve yells.

Wayne shakes his head as he makes his way out to the chaos he chose to be a part of this weekend.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things #friends to lovers #getting together #fluff #good uncle wayne munson

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mydarlingclaudia · 1 month ago

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every word I meant to say

note : ermmmm hi. don't ask where I went for like almost a month work is eating me alive and I was sad. this was inspired by that the unsent project thing andddd idk if I really like this it's def ooc but I was thinking about it again today and this has been in my drafts since September so I figured why not

wc : 2.1k

tags : @luvrgreyy @clitorphosis @sonya-semyonova

desc : letters that went unsent. kind of unrequited love, angst (???), more Leon focused, re2r!Leon - DI!Leon, fem!reader, ooc, not proofread

"I meant to write sooner, I really did. I know it's been a year, my life is so different now, I don't think you'd even believe me if I tried to explain it. I hope you're doing better than I am, I'm happy you weren't able to move to the city with me."

Leon hasn't written a letter since, what, his first few years in the academy? Maybe the end of his senior year of high school? He can't really remember, but he knows that this letter is important because it's to you, his friend he hasn't seen since the night he left for Raccoon City. This isn't even an actual letter, he's scribbling out what he thinks might be good excuses as to why he hasn't talked to you in a year on the back of pieces of scrap paper he took from the office.

He's supposed to be asleep right now, same as everyone else in boot camp, but it's been a year since Raccoon City and he's wondering if you ever tried to reach him. Maybe you tried to go to Raccoon City to look for him, only to see the pile of rubble that stood in its place, sectioned off by the government. Maybe you thought he was dead, he wouldn't blame you.

You and Leon had stuck together all throughout high school, even managed to stay friends when he went off to the police academy and you moved a few hours away for college. He doesn't even know if your address is still the same, he really hopes it is, there's no phone-books in boot camp if he wanted to try and call you, you're supposed to have your loved ones numbers memorized.

The last time Leon saw you was the night before he was supposed to move to the city, before he got a letter in the mail the next morning telling him not to come in, he really wishes he had listened. You were so happy for him, starting out as a city cop was a big deal and he had worked so hard to get there, you and a few friends had thrown him a going-away-party, telling him not to forget you once he got to the city. Leon couldn't forget you if he tried.

You had talked about moving to the city with him for a short period of time, it was really just ramblings the two of you kept bringing up. "Oh, when we live in the city..." "I can come visit you at work..." "I'll handle dinner, you'll handle cleaning..." Nothing ever really came of those ideas, but it gave him a warm feeling in his stomach knowing you wanted to come to the city with him.

He hopes you’ve been well, that life has been kinder to you than it has to him. Leon hopes you got that job you were gushing about the last time he saw you, he hopes you still think of him on his birthday because he thinks of you often.

He shouldn’t have gone to Raccoon City, he should’ve stayed home the day he left and instead stopped by your house to bother you about going to see a movie. Or he should have taken you to lunch, anything would’ve been better than walking into a city that was beyond saving.

"I’m not really sure what I’m saying, but I know I miss you. How have you been? I hope I’m able to come and visit soon, everything’s been moving so fast, but I’ll figure something out. Maybe we can get dinner, or something. Whatever you want, I’ll pay for it, don’t worry."

Leon's hands shake a tiny bit when he thinks of you, it's that school boy nervousness that movies portray whenever there's a boy with a crush on a girl who he knows is probably too out of his league. You were friends, at least.

"You're done with school now, right?" He knows you are. "I wish I was there for the graduation ceremony, I know your parents are proud. Do you remember my graduation party? Someone spiked the punch and we both ended up passed out in the bathtub at your house, you looked really pretty that night. I hope your graduation was better than mine. This would probably have been better as a phone call, but I don't know, you said letters were always more thoughtful.

– Leon"

–

That letter never got sent. Every letter needs an envelope, Leon just never got around to finding one, but he kept that scrap piece of paper tucked inside his pillowcase on the odd chance that he got his hands on one. He had stricter rules to follow than the other recruits, being legally dead and all.

But even after he got out of boot camp, he kept the letter. It's hidden away in some drawer in his house, he's not sure where, though.

He didn't make it into the army, he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but being in the position he was in now wasn't much better. He's stronger now, hardened, more mature.

Leon's written a few more letters to you over the years, ones that still never got sent because he either deemed them unworthy or because he became unsure of himself halfway through writing it. But he hasn't thrown any of them away, he'll send them one day, he swears it.

Leon's not using you as a way of journaling, either, even though he should find some way to actually write down his thoughts to get them out of his head. What he writes to you is mostly memories, telling you that his life keeps changing and that he misses you. He knows you're different by now, too. You're both grown, no longer in high school, no longer in college or the academy. If he could turn back time, go anywhere other than Raccoon City, he would. He thinks that's selfish of him, him not being there would've left Claire and Sherry in that city, but how would he have even known?

"Me again, hope you're doing better than I am." Leon's way with words gets worse and worse by the week, not that he cares. "I met someone who kind of reminded me of you, she's a sweetheart, like you. You'd probably become fast friends if you were ever able to meet."

Leon's not allowed to tell you about his mission in Spain, or about the president's daughter. President Graham is putting more body-guards in place for his daughter once she steps foot in D.C. again, Leon's sure the president considered appointing Leon as one of them at some point since breaking the news that she was going to be coming back home safely.

Leon should stop thinking about you so much, it's not like you were his only friend in the world, you've probably forgotten him, anyway.

"My life is still different, but yours probably is, too. This probably sounds stupid, but I miss being in high school. You probably don't, your mom was up your ass all the time and you worked yourself to the bone. Has that changed at all?

I remember that one year I went to Thanksgiving at your house, your uncles were all drunk and your cousins kept trying to get me to come sit with them, your grandpa was trying to get me interested in football. I haven't had a holiday like that since then, your family was always really nice to me."

He's not sure what to say anymore, these letters always just end up dragging out, but Leon has a lot of memories and he hopes you think of them as often as he does.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited. It's harder for me to get time off of work these days, even though I could really fucking use it. I promise one day I'll come back, it's just not going to be for a little while. Just don't do anything dumb.

– Leon"

–

Those letters he's been writing you have piled up in the drawer of his nightstand.

He's definitely sure that your address has changed by now, you're probably not even in the same state anymore. He could always try to find you on Facebook, explain everything that's been building up over the years in a simple text, but there's still rules he's supposed to follow even in his personal life.

Leon didn't stop writing, though. The letters did eventually get shorter, he's not sure if you like the same things anymore or if you'd even be interested.

He writes now mostly about how different his life would be if he was with you, if he had just asked you out in high school or kissed you the night he was supposed to leave for Raccoon City. It almost feels real to him when he goes to sleep, but that might just be the alcohol numbing his brain, not the dream of you sleeping next to him or the feeling of your breath on the back of his neck, not even the little pitter-patter off tiny footsteps coming from down the hallway.

It does make him feel a bit pathetic, dreaming of a life with someone he hadn't talked to in years. Leon can't help but think of you, he always thought you were pretty, and the past always lives in the back of his mind, but it comes alive late at night.

You're an entirely different person by now, someone who he hasn't had the opportunity to meet yet. You're probably married, maybe you even have a few kids running around, Leon's jealous of that. That could've been him, but it's not. But he's not even sure if you'd recognize each other if you passed by on the street, so is it even worth it to dwell on all the maybe's?

"I'm not sure I'll get to visit you for a while, not without a lucky fucking twist of fate, anyway."

All these letters are starting to sound the same, but Leon clings onto the thought of someday sending them to whatever corner of the country you were hiding in and hoping that there's still room in your life for a stranger.

"Do you still want me over for dinner? You don't know what I'd give to just eat a shitty meal with you right now."

You don't know what he'd give to do anything with you, really. He knows that there's a lifetime worth of things he's missed out on and that maybe every once in a while you think about him in the same way he thinks about you.

"I don't know how to ask this, but are you married? I know you'd look stunning in a wedding dress." You probably are, you're a catch, who wouldn't want to put a ring on your finger? Your husband's probably a better man than he is, too. One who hasn't had years worth of trauma jammed into his brain with the proof of it marked across his body, your husband probably takes you out on a date every week, maybe even surprises you with breakfast in bed and kisses the nape of your neck to gross out your kids. "I really hope you're happy, in my head you are.

I wanted that to be us, I never told you, but I was a chicken-shit kid and didn't know how to say it. You show up in my dreams sometimes, you deserve nothing but the best. I meant to get back in touch with you forever ago, but I think it's probably too late.

– Leon"

–

Two years after his last letter and Leon's still thinking of you, seventeen years after Raccoon City and the image of you sitting across from him for the last time still loops in his mind. He doesn't really remember your voice but he knows that you thought handwritten letters were romantic, and he still reads over the ones he meant to send to you but kept avoiding.

He's done with the letters, hasn't written one in a long time. But he just got back from California and your old favorite song is playing on the radio, and he's remembering how in love he is with your memory.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm too old for this and I'm sure you'd tease me if we had somehow kept in touch. I don't blame you if you thought I died in Raccoon City, I hope you're still alive and that life is good to you.

You were always important to me, I think you've given me something to cling to over the years. This letter won't find you and I'm not even really sure if I want it to, but I hope you'd still call me if you were able to. You wouldn't believe the things I've seen, but I'm happy you never got to see them.

Love, Leon

p.s. I'd say I love you but it feels like something you'd say in person"

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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kkami-writes · 6 months ago

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waiting for us — chapter fifty four. waiting for us wc. 2k a/n. name drop!!!! ok but that being said this is a VERY heavy chapter dealing with very sensitive topics. please read through the tw and be safe. tl;dr at the end. TW!!! negligent parents, brief mention of abortion, brief mention of religion, verbal abuse, domestic abuse, violent acts, mentions of self-harm and attempted suicide also i'm not entirely sure how I should tag this, but there is a part where yn has her clothes ripped off of her without consent, but it is not in a sexual way (?) or for the purpose of doing something sexual.

You stand just outside the door of 3RACHA’s (and hyunjin’s) apartment, and your quite certain that your heart is going to pound itself straight through your chest. Perhaps there is a brief moment where you consider just running for it but you think better of it. A half empty duffel bag sits on your shoulder and there’s a ratty backpack that hangs loosely off of you. Maybe you’d find it sad that your whole life could fit into two measly bags, but you couldn’t deny that it was just easier this way. You had left nothing behind, wiping your entire existence out of that place and you would not look back.

When you finally gather the courage to knock on the door, your knuckles barely make a sound while they rap against the wood. Yet the moment your hand makes contact with the door, it’s swinging open and Felix throws himself into your embrace. You almost lose your balance but Felix makes sure you don’t fall backwards, clinging almost painfully to you.

He pulls back to ask if you’re okay since you were later than you said you’d be, but the words die on his tongue at the sight of you. There’s nothing different from you besides the bright red mark decorating your cheek.

“YN? What happened? Who hurt you?” He questions, voice going almost impossibly deeper. The thought of someone putting their hands on you fills him with anger. You actually almost don’t know what he’s talking about before remembering the parting gift your mother had given you before you left.

“Oh. This. Don’t worry about it,” You mumble, acting rather nonchalant as you attempt to get past Felix and into the apartment but he doesn’t let you get too far, grasping gently at your wrist to pull you back.

“No seriously. Who hurt you yn? What’s up with the bags?” He fires out questions, now just realizing the two bags you had with you.

“I was hoping I could stay the night. Or a few. Or forever,”

The silence between you is deafening.

“Yn” You hate (love) the way you shudder at the way he says your name in that deep tone of his.

“I might have, um, run away from home?”

“WHAT?” He yells at that effectively alerting the rest of the boys of your presence.

“Lix? Is that YN? What’s going on?” Chan’s voice filters through the apartment, getting louder the closer he gets. You finally move past Felix, leaving your bags by the door for now.

“Lixie, I’ll explain everything ok? I don’t want to have to keep repeating myself over and over again,” You beg the boy with an almost desperate lilt to your voice, giving him big puppy eyes for added ammo just in case. He sighs and let’s it go for now, letting you drag him towards the couches.

But of course, even if Felix had dropped it, the other’s wouldn’t; immediately demanding to know who hit you as soon as they see your red cheeks. As much as you appreciate their concern, the swirl of emotions you’ve been feeling for hours already has you on edge and you’re so close to snapping.

“GUYS” You raise your voice and the effect is immediate, all of them quieting down and staring back at you. “It’s ok, I promise. I barely feel it. It was the first time my mom hit me anyway,” At that they all start asking questions again, talking over each other but one glare from you shuts them up again. “Please. I’m here to explain okay? So please, let me tell you everything before you guys start asking a million questions,” You plead, tired and scared of the can of worms you were potentially about to open. But you also know how much you need this. You just couldn’t keep it in anymore.

The boys all gather onto the couch and the seats next to it, with you sat in the middle next to Felix and Jisung, one on either side of you. Both of them are close enough that you can feel their thighs pressed to yours. It helps to keep you grounded while you try to take a deep breath but it just comes out shaky. Jisung slides his hand into yours, giving it a squeeze before giving you a reassuring nod.

“I was an accident. My mom somehow managed to get pregnant even though my dad had a vasectomy after they had my brother. Despite not wanting another child, they decided to have me anyway for whatever reason. We’re not religious or anything so she could have just gotten an abortion. I’ll never know why they decided to have me.

Growing up the abuse was mostly verbal. An insult here or there, mostly reminding me I wasn’t wanted or needed. My brother of course was the worst with his words but overall it really wasn’t that bad. For the most part they ignored my existence, which was honestly fine with me. It….only got worse after I turned 16. When I got my soulmark,” Your hands are shaking in Jisung’s firm grip while Felix scoots closer for comfort, nuzzling his cheek against your shoulder. You are so thankful for them.

“Both of my parents are blanks and so is my brother. So it was only natural that I assumed that I would be a blank as well. So imagine my surprise when it turns out I have 8 soulmates,” You let out a small snort, head shaking softly.

“I’m know you’re all probably thinking that I freaked out or panicked about having so many soulmates with how I reacted when we met, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” You make brief eye contact with Jeongin who has a confused expression on his fox-like face.

“For the first time, hope bloomed in my chest. My original plan was to leave when I turned 18, as soon as I could, but I didn’t really know what I would do. I would be all alone, no soulmate and experiencing the real world for the first time. But now, I finally felt like I had a purpose. To find my soulmates. I couldn’t believe that I would have 8 soulmates. 8 people who would love me. Who would want me” your voice cracks at those last words, tears burning in your eyes. Hyunjin looks like he’s not too far behind with his own tears threatening to fall.

“Of course I had lied to my parents about my soulmark, just saying I was a blank. It was easy since they didn’t really care but I had the suspicion that my brother didn’t believe me. I used to stand in front of my mirror staring at my soulmark, tracing over your names, dreaming about what life would be like with you guys,” Felix clings a little harder to you. “It was my only solace in that prison, that one day I would be where I belonged,”

“One day my brother…he caught me looking at my mark. He-“ Your eyes close in pain as the tears run down your cheeks. You squeeze at Jisung’s hands who haven’t lefts yours yet as you take in a deep breath. “He dragged me to the living room by my hair, yelling at my parents that I was a lying whore. That I was some kind of greedy slut for having so many soulmates. He pushed me to the ground and…he- he,” You choke on your tears before you feel someone patting your cheeks dry with tissues. You look up to see Minho, his eyes soft and sad as he continues to dry the tears leaking from your eyes. The other boys that were not on the couch have abandoned their seats in favor of being closer to you. Seungmin is on the floor, stroking at your calves soothingly, while Hyunjin does the same on your other side.

“He ripped my skirt off and…he….he took a lighter and….and-“ You can’t even finish the sentence before you throw yourself in Seungmin’s embrace, sobbing into his shoulder as he holds you. The rest of the boys try to comfort you as you feel hands along your back and hair, soft soothing words being said into your ears. It takes you a few minutes to pull yourself together.

“’M sorry-“ You say with a sniffle, letting Minho clean your face as he insists on doing it himself.

“Don’t say sorry. You’ve had horrific things done to you. You are so strong,” Changbin says in a soft voice, contrasting his normally loud demeanor. His hands smooth your hair down.

You can hear the sniffles from Felix and Jisung who have starting sobbing silently, their hearts breaking for you. You let out a sigh because you’re not even done.

“After that…the abuse…got worse. It turned physical as my brother would take his anger out on me. My parents didn’t care about what he did to me. I slowly…became a shell of myself. I started turning to self harm because everything hurt so much that I needed something else to hurt so I didn’t have to think about anything else. Even though he didn’t sever our soulmark, I felt like I had let you down- that I let someone else disfigure our beautiful connection. I though about my soulmates who would probably never want someone as broken as I was. I felt so lost. So….on graduation night I-“ You tuck your head down in shame. “I swallowed a bunch of sleeping pills,”

Everyone is deadly silent but you can hear Hyunjin and Jeongin joining in on the crying. Seungmin just holds you a little tighter.

“I had texted Minghao before I went through with it. Telling him that I was so grateful for his friendship and that him and Jun were the best friends I could ever ask for. Of course that man has some freaky 8th sense or something because I don’t think it took him more than five minutes to get to my house even though he lives twenty minutes away. He was yelling at me when he barged into my bathroom but I don’t remember much after that. I passed out and woke up in the hospital. Now that I was conscious Minghao throughly chewed my ass out though. The nurses had wanted to hospitalize me actually for mental health reasons but my parents refused and said something about how it was just an accident,”

“We thought you died,” Jeongin pipes up, his eyes red rimmed with tears as he sniffles.

“Your mark went gray and we all felt this sharp pain in our chests. That night we had mourned the loss of a soulmate that we thought we’d never get to meet. The relief we felt when your mark went back to black was unmatched. We had assumed you must have had an accident or something to have triggered the mark to react,”

The rest are eerily quiet, still waiting for you to continue your story.

“After I was discharged, my father had someone managed to score himself a promotion. Something about using a sob story about how his daughter was feeling lost being in a small town and needing to explore or some other bullshit. Either way we were suddenly packing and moving to seoul, not that my opinion mattered if I wanted to go or not.

My grades in school were actually pretty good. I really didn’t have anything better to do then study so It was surprisingly easy to get into seoul uni. And well….then I met Jeongin in Biology. Slowly the rest of you followed and wormed your way into my heart,” you smile fondly at the boys around you who smile back, even with tears stained cheeks.

“I really don’t care about the thread Yunjin posted, but my brother saw it and was not happy. He informed our parents and they let me have it. I just sat there taking it when I realized that I didn’t have to put up with this shit anymore. So I kinda just got up, grabbed my stuff and left…Figured you guys wouldn’t mind if I stayed,”

“Never ever. You do realize that now that you’re here we are never letting you go. Ever again,” Changbin whispers, squeezing you a little tighter. The boys are practically cutting off your oxygen but you can hardly care, feeling the love pouring out of them. You love them. You never want to be without them ever again.

“You have been so brave, so strong. We are so proud of you. Thank you. Thank you for waiting for us,”

tl;dr ! yn's parents find out about her soulmates via her brother who found out from the thread. while they chew her out, she realizes that she doesn't has to put up with this anymore and "runs" away (but not without her mother slapping her). she goes over to their apartment to tell them her story. yn was an "accident" and even though her parents didn't want another child, they went ahead with the birth anyway. they, along with her brother never let her forget that she was unwanted. both her parents and her brother are blanks and so she had assumed she would be too - but surprise, surpise. she has 8 soulmates. yn adored her mark and was excited for the day she would get to be with them. she'd spend time staring at her mark, memorizing their names. one day her brother catches her and gets so angry that he takes a lighter and burns her mark. after that yn falls into a deep depression and turns to self-harm in order to cope. still unable to take it and feeling like she let her soulmates down, she decides to take a bunch of sleeping pills. minghao is the one who finds her and saves her. the boys mention that they thought that she had died due to the mark reacting and turning grey. they were very happy when the mark went back to black. after her attempt, her father was able to get a promotion at work and moved their family to seoul, resulting in yn finally finding her soulmates.

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#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smau #stray kids texts #skz #skz x reader #skz smau #skz texts #stray kids social media au #skz social media au #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #skz fake texts #skz scenarios #skz imagines

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jhkfan123 · 11 months ago

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because i liked a boy | tom blyth

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

in which: tom rushes to your house after you get threats and insults online due to speculations of a relationship between the two of you

warnings: mentions and readings of death threats, mentions of slut shaming

wc: 1.1k (sorry it's a little short!)

a/n: IT'S MY POOKIE WOOKIE DOOKIE COOKIE SHMOOPIE TOM'S BIRTHDAY! no but seriously happy birthday tom! bros birthday is approximately ONE week from mine. bro's a little aquarius like me. thank you so much for being the best tom! the age gap grows more everyday 🥰...anyway here is a little cute fic for you guys just for his bday!

in less than 24 hours they were everywhere. in your dm's, in tagged posts, on every platform.

it was only yesterday that you and tom decided to go out in public together. for the first time. and now you realized maybe it should be your last, for a while anyway.

the two of you kept a quiet relationship for about a month, up until yesterday, when you decided going out for coffee might be nice. and sure enough, there were cameras.

first fan accounts found it. then smaller celebrity news accounts found it. then e! news found it. soon variety found it. this had all happened while you were asleep. and when you woke up, it wasn't just the posts that you found. you had dm's. lots of them. each one a little worse than the one before it.

you weren't sure what to do. so you picked up your phone and dialed tom.

the phone rung for what felt like ages. then you finally heard the comforting voice you had been longing for.

"hello?" you heard. you felt a little lighter already.

"hi tom. look, i know you're not really on social media but, i just really need you to come over because i need to talk to you." you breathed heavily getting the sentence out as you now began to panic.

"i'll be there in ten minutes. love you." you heard. he hung up the phone. you sat down on the couch in your apartment. you had an urge to go on your phone, but you knew what awaited you. so you resisted.

about ten minutes later, you heard a knock on the door. right on time.

he only knocked out of politeness, he had a key to your unit. "oh, good you're here." you said. he looked at you with a warm smile.

"i came as fast as possible." he came over to the couch and pressed a kiss to your forehead. he sat down next to you and you embraced his warmth. "now, what's wrong." he said. you leaned into his lap.

"so, remember how we went out for coffee yesterday?" you asked. he nodded quickly. "so obviously there were photos which is fine and we expected that but, once people really started noticing, i started getting...threats." you handed him your phone which was now open to your instagram dm's.

"oh, no." he sighed with sadness. "i'm so sorry. do you mind if i look?" he asked. you nodded again. he took your phone from your hand and began to scroll. you saw the screen and began to read along.

user: who tf are you back tf off you slut

_user_: didn't you just break up with your other boyfriend you whore chill share him with us

user123: if you don't back off i'm going to jump you. mwah

tomblythlover: if you hurt him you die

each one got progressively worse. you saw tom's face shift with each one. he pulled you closer to him as he handed your phone back to you. you felt a single tear stream down your face, which tom immediately noticed.

"hey, hey hey." he wiped your tear with his thumb. "you didn't do anything wrong, ok? ignore every single one. you are not a slut, not a whore, not anything they claim you are. and, there is nothing you can do to stop these people. you just have to ignore it." he pulled you closer and tighter to him. "turn your dm's off. or limit them at least." he suggested. "get off social media. take a walk." he kept listing out ideas.

"you're right. i didn't even think of that, turning my dm's off." you said. you went into your settings and turned it off.

"what would you do without me." he joked, sarcastically. you hit him in his leg, the only place you could reach. you smiled up at him.

"i can't believe people would do this." you spoke. it was unbelievable. how could you say something like that to someone you don't even know?

"i can. people are crazy online. they stay stuff that they wouldn't ever say to your face. that's why i stay off of it." he responded.

"should i like, put a statement out?" you questioned. you often looked up to tom for advice about these things. he was only a year older than you, well, almost two, but he seemed much wiser. you loved the way you could look to him for anything.

"only if you want to, love." he assured you. "but if you think it will help you, then do it. do it for yourself, not for others." he continued.

"maybe i should. i will." you opened your story camera and began to type. you thought about what you wanted to say. then your mind drew a blank. "what should i say?" you asked, staring blankly at your screen.

"just say that no one is allowed to insult you just because we're dating, and that you need time to figure out what you are going to do next." he said. he thought of solutions with such ease, taking no time to think. ideas flowed like water out of his mouth. when you finished, you showed it to him, and with his approval, you added it to your story.

even though your dm's were turned off, you still hoped that people would stop attacking you in tagged posts, something that you couldn't stop no matter what.

"thank you, tom, for being here. i'd probably be lying in bed crying right now if it wasn't for you." he smiled down at you.

"i'll always put you first. i don't care what i'm doing. never be afraid to call me, even if i'm busy ok? i promise i'll help, any way i can. and please don't take anything they said to heart. you aren't any of those things, the only thing they got right is that you are my girlfriend." that made you laugh. "now, let's go do something to lift your mood." he pulled himself off the couch and soon helped you up as well. "where do you want to go?" he asked. you thought for a moment. you wanted to be somewhere quiet. with tom.

"i think just a walk around the neighborhood would be nice. no photos, no phones, just us?" you suggested.

"that's the best idea i've ever heard." he hugged you close. then he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss. he grabbed his keys from the entryway table, grabbed your hand, and walked out the door.

#jhkfan123 #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tomblyth #tom blyth x you #tom blyth fanfiction #HAPPY BIRTHDAY POOKIE #29 AND STILL FINE #coriolanus snow #because i liked a boy #hungergames #snow lands on top #tbosas #hunger games

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devildomditzy · 1 year ago

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Pity Party

In which you pretend to forget Mammon’s birthday and Mammon pretends he’s not upset

no warning or tags, a quick birthday drabble for the birthday boy <3

——————————————————————————

He’s been practically bouncing off the walls all week. Even if he didn’t explicitly say, it was obvious what had him worked up.

It was his birthday tomorrow, something you knew very well in fact. You had planned down to the minute exactly how you and him were going to spend the day (or more so where you were allowing him to drag you throughout the town) already telling his brothers he’s off limits for the upcoming 24 hours.

He’s been dropping hints like mad and, you get it. He’s the Avatar of Greed. He loves presents, he loves parties, he loves attention, especially your attention. But c’mon, did he really believe you’d actually forget his birthday?

Well, you’re kinda hoping he does.

You’ve been planning this surprise for the second born for months now, pulling out all the stops and not sparing any expense. You love that look in his eye he gets when his greed starts up, and you intend to keep that look there all day. But, in order to really make this as special as you planned, it had to be a surprise.

“Yo, MC”, Mammon calls as he sits down next to you in the RAD courtyard during lunch a little too fast, his tray clattering to the table. “Whaddya got planned for us tomorrow?”

You don’t look up for the book you’re pretending to read, instead opting for a look of nonchalance.

“Uh, am I supposed to have something planned for us to do tomorrow?”

He looks taken aback for a moment, but presses onward.

“Aw, c’mon you gotta have somethin’ planned for tomorrow. Tomorrow’s so important, it might as well be a realm-wide holiday!”

You try to hide your smile as your lips upturn as he mutters something about asking Diavolo if it could be added to the calendar.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Wha- What’s tomorrow?? MC, ya gotta be kidding me right now.”

“Is it some kind of weird Devildom holiday? I don’t have all of them memorized yet, you know.”

“You really don’t know?”, his voice breaks a little and you find it so hard to keep composed. But, you have to stay strong! Stick to the plan!

His face falls completely at the shake of your head. He clicks his tongue before mumbling, “Forget it then. Guess it wasn’t that important to begin with.” You watch as he abruptly stands up, trudging away from you in an upset haze.

You sigh heavily looking down at the book Satan loaned you to pretend to read to pretend to look too busy to remember your first man’s birthday. This sucked. The hurt on his features was evident and to know that you caused that? It’s a huge punch to the gut.

But the look on his face tomorrow will be so, so worth it.

You hope.

The next few hours after classes are filled with exactly what you expected: Mammon avoiding you at all costs and making every effort not to talk to you.

You weren’t too surprised to find Beel and Belphie waiting in the spot by RAD’s gate where Mammon usually met you to walk you back to the HOL.

Beel speaks first, “Mammon asked us to walk you home today”. He nods, so resolute.

Belphie, of course, adds the unneeded commentary. “How’s that plan working out? Mammon looked like a sad, wet puppy. More than normal, I mean.”

You groan in annoyance. “I knew he’d take it hard, but I didn’t know he was gonna take it THIS hard. I mean, c’mon, not even walking me home? That’s like his whole thing! That he’s supposed to do! Or Lucifer will kill him!”

“I think I would be upset too, if it were me”, Beel starts as the three of you begin your walk. “Imagine it was your birthday, and you thought no one would get you a cake? That’s so sad,” he sighs, laying his hand over his stomach, looking remorseful.

“No one could forget your birthday Beel, or they’d be forgetting mine too”, Belphie laughs. which seems to brighten Beel’s mood a little bit.

“Right, you always get me a cake, Belphie”, Beel smiles.

“Do you think I should talk to him? Just tell him what I’m planning?”

“And ruin your surprise? You’ve been working hard on that”, frowns Beel.

His twin continues where he left off, “And we’ve been working hard to keep it a secret. Don’t worry, I give it an hour, maybe two before he’s talking to you again. He’s like, physically incapable of not hovering around you like some parasite.”

“But he’s my favorite parasite”, you muse, “and don’t call him that.”

“Well, whatever you do, better make up your mind quick”, Belphie says, opening the gates to the House of Lamentation. “Mammon can be sensitive, but trust me, he’ll survive a couple hours thinking you forgot.”

“Yeah, I guess he can.”

He could not.

Mammon laid on his bed, furious and yet, finding himself unable to be mad at you. Of course you forgot his birthday. Why would you remember?

When you’re getting lunch and shopping in town with Asmo. When you’re having tea and chatting with Lucifer. When your gaming with Levi and reading with Satan. When your napping or stargazing with the twins? When you’re baking with Luke and Simeon and Barbatos and have the future king of the Devildom gunning for your attention as well. Why would you remember him? The selfish prick of the family. Why would you deem him or his birthday important?

And yet, you look at him like he hung the stars and the moon. You touch him like he’s made of fragile glass. You care for him as if he was the most special thing in your life. Did he even have the right to be upset? When someone as important as you forgets someone as insignificant as him?

He can’t fault you. And honestly not talking to you hurts worse than anything you could ever do to him. Forcing himself to not walk you home was easily one of the hardest things he had to do within the last millennia. A birthday without you sounds much worse than just telling you why he’s upset.

But he’s stubborn, dammit. Goddamn Lucifer and the goddamn pride he instilled in him.

So, he does what he does best when he’s upset. He broods. And he does not text you. Oh no, don’t even think that he typed a million messages and erased them, words never coming out right. Cause he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He would never.

He stares at his ceiling, arms crossed, D.D.D tossed aside. He really can’t believe it. It’s already almost midnight. You really forgot his birthday, didn’t you? It’s not that you HAD to get him anything, or you HAD to have something planned, he just… really wished you did.

He thought he was more important to you than that.

As of right on cue, a light rasp comes from the other side of his door. A familiar one. None of his brothers knocked that quietly.

But did he wanna answer you? No. He didn’t want to talk to you and see your beautiful face and spend his day with the most important person in his life, his human. Cause he didn’t. Of course not. He would never.

“Mammon, are you in there?”, your voice rings out and his heart lurches. He wants to be mad at you, dammit he wants to be mad at you. But…

He’s up before he even knows what he’s doing, turning the handle, sighing before he starts, “Look, MC, I didn’t mean to…what’s that?”

He stops mid sentence, pointing down to the box in your hands, wrapped up nicely in gold foil wrapping.

“It’s a present for the birthday boy,” you take out your own D.D.D. looking at the time. And since it’s officially midnight, it’s officially your birthday.”

“W-wha, I-I…Y-you…”

“Happy Birthday Mammon”, you smile sweetly at him, shoving the box in his hands.

He looks down at it and then back at you… then down and it and back at you again, disbelief written on his face.

“Don’t cha ever scare me like that again, got it!?”

“Scare you?”, you question him with a light chuckle.

“Yeah, scare me! I though you forgot all about me!”

“You? How could anyone forget about The Great Mammon! And how could I forget about my first man?”

He watches as a blush rises on your cheeks, a matching one quickly finding its way onto his.

“Well”, you say, shoving the box into his hands, “Open it!”

He pauses for a minute before careful undoing the ribbon tying it together, unraveling the gaudy paper from around the box.

He lets out a soft gasp as he removes the lid. “Is this… MC these cost a fortune, how did you…”

You cut him off, taking the gold chain bracelet out and cuffing it around his wrist.

“Well, you kinda haven’t shut up about it since you saw it, so I saved up as much as I could from my Hell’s Kitchen shifts.”

He stares at it in awe before smiling widely and wrapping his arms around you tightly, rocking you back and forth. “Thank you, Treasure.”

The nickname pulls a giddy laugh from your chest, pulling back from the hug to look him in the eyes. “Anytime, Mammoney. But you gotta get ready”, you reply, poking a finger into his chest to drive the point home.

“Ready? For what?”

“Well, there’s your party at The Fall that starts in about an hour… and then we have to check in at the private suite…then maybe we’ll sleep a little? maybe? Then there’s the breakfast reservations…. and the lunch reservations…and the dinner reservations…and then the Casino downtown is already expecting you…” you list lost in thought, thinking hard to remember everything you had planned out in advance.

Mammon can’t help but look at you with the fondest eyes. Like you had hung the stars and the moon. He puts his hand on your shoulder to grab your attention, touching you like the most fragile glass.

“What, did you really think I forgot?”, you tease him in that tone you know he loves.

And he once again takes you into his arms. He can’t believe he doubted you for a second. Not only are you a bad liar but,

You are the most important thing in his life.

#kit’s playhouse #obey me #om #mammon #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me mammon #obey me headcannons #obey me mc #mammon headcannons #omnb #obey me nightbringer #omnb mammon #obey me x mc #om x mc #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #omnb x mc #omnb mammon x mc

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 20 days ago

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taking care of drunk ike

today it is my birthday once more so here, i'm posting my favorite fic in my drafts. i'm not sure what i should do today...?!

i love honest thoughts while drunk but i wanted to keep the idea of consent in mind... this is my balance weeeee. the longer the fic goes the more dicey it gets. kinda like actual blackout drinkinggg. so if you need to dip no worriesssssssss

tags: gender neutral reader, pre-relationship, fluff and angst, pining, open ending, fluff with a sad ending, sick fic?, blackout drunk ike, ike is a cute drunk, and then an emotional drunk, emetophobia/vomit, unspecified if reader drinks or not, slightest hint of lucake and shuca if you squint while yaoipilled, one (1) swedish word

⚠️ drinking, emetophobia

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Long story short: Ike is sloshed and needs to get home.

Long story long: Luxiem just wrapped up an ambitious project, so naturally you and the rest of the guys spent all night celebrating. The evening started off with a good meal and blowing your lungs out on karaoke, but if someone told you earlier today that Ike of all people would get piss drunk, you would've laughed in their face. Dude's Scandinavian. He's not a heavy drinker by any means but Vox is the only one that can keep up with him. Even then, it usually ends up with the demon plastered by the time Ike starts slurring his words together.

Except for tonight, of course. All Vox had was a shot with the rest of the guys when the night started, so that initial effect faded ages ago.

You weren't set on getting drunk either, so you ended up being the responsible one too. Even Luca sobered up. He's usually the next to go after local lightweight Shu, but the bar appetizers must've soaked up the alcohol, and now at the wee hours of 2 AM, the other two guys were using Luca as a crutch. Seeing sleepy-drunk Shu rest his head on Luca's shoulder was common. Ike trying to break free from Luca's grasp? Completely different story.

"Luca, let me go."

"Are you going to trip in your heels if I do?"

"No."

Luca let go of Ike's hand. Ike stepped forward, stumbled, and nearly ate shit before he could even get to step number 2. Luckily, Luca figured that would happen and grabbed his arm before the novelist completely lost his balance. "See what I mean now, Ike?"

Ike just grunted in half-hearted protest.

Meanwhile, Vox closed his phone. "I don't want him walking home alone," he said. He glanced at the Luca-crutch and the rambunctious child dangling off his arm (plus the contented Shu on the other side). "Uber should be here in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Vox," you said on Ike's behalf.

"It's the least I can do. Still, do you think he can make it to his apartment? He can barely stand up straight."

You got an idea. "I can go with him and make sure he gets home in one piece."

Vox tilted his head. "What about you?"

"Please, don't sweat it! We live less than five minutes away from each other, so I'll be fine. We even have spare keys to each other's places,” you said. Behind you and Vox, Ike was trying to pull his hand out from Luca's grasp. No matter how hard he tried, he had about as much force as a wet piece of paper. Luca was immovable. You continued. "Besides, I'm a little worried too. I don't want him to trip on concrete or anything."

Which brings the long story to now: you sit in backseat of an Uber with Ike who, as mentioned, is sloshed and needs to get home.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Without Luca to hold him in place, Ike didn't have much of an authority to rebel against. He complied without much of a fight. It's endearing watching him switch up; one moment he's acting goofy with the boys and the next he's docile, staring intently at the back of the passenger seat.

"What're you looking at?" You ask.

"Pouh," he says informatively. When you don't respond immediately he pushes his head against your arm like a pillow and repeats himself. "Pughhh."

"What?"

"Pockets," he slurs. He points at the back of the passenger seat, which is as flat as a board. "This seat doesn't have them. Which is so sad. If it can have pockets we should always have pockets no matter what."

"I think you should talk to women's jeans manufacturers about that."

"I would be great at women's jeans," Ike agrees.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You thank the driver once the ride is done and open the door for Ike. Fortunately he's remembered how to walk but you support him as you climb the stairs to his apartment, one step at a time. His heels, usually quick and prompt, clunk on the ground. Ike sniffs.

Oh, no. He looks like a kicked puppy right now. Did something happen? You try to recount anything that might've upset him. "What's wrong, Ike?"

"I thought about it during the ride." He sniffs again. "Women's jeans don't have pockets and it’s making me sad."

“Sometimes they do!” You pat his back in a quick attempt to cheer him up. “I’ve even seen skirts with pockets.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” Ike smiles. “They should make more skirts with pockets.”

“Sure. Where’s your keys?”

Ike produces a key ring and misses the lock, so you open it for him. His apartment smells like cotton and the greasy hint of bacon, just like how you remember. It’s organized but clearly lived in, down to the folded laundry resting on a chair rather than their designated drawers.

“Come in,” he says, not at all surplussed by you. You visit each other often, after all. He ambles through the threshold and onto the couch with a satisfied “Oof.”

The first order of business is to get Ike some water. You don’t even have to guess which cabinet holds the glasses; you get it right on the first try. Once you’re done, you turn to the couch. Ike lays down on the couch, head plopped on the armrest and his folded hands, squishing his alcohol-flushed cheeks. His drooping eyes perk up as your get closer. He’s been watching you.

“Alright, you big dork, sit up properly so you can drink.” You nudge his shoulder, coaxing him up with a groan.

He straightens as you press the cold glass in his hand. With a wave of his free hand, he tries to say, “I shouldn’t, I’ve had a lot to drink.”

You raise the glass. Despite his protests, Ike wordlessly tilts it to his lip with your help. You must look like an alien species, a tangle of limbs holding a cup to a second mouth, but Ike closes his eyes as he sips. When he parts his lips are dewy. The center turns a brighter color, now glossy from the water, rosy red to accompany the flowery pink flush over his cheeks.

He glances at you. "Tastes watery."

"That's because it's water," you say, letting him get a grip on the cup by himself. "Go ahead, have some more. It'll help."

Ike lets out a tiny satisfied sound as he mumbles, “Only because you’re cute.”

Ah?

He drinks more of the water while you stare at him like an actual alien. His Adam's apple rises and falls with each gulp as you try to shake off your surprise. "I... I didn't know you were a flirty drunk, Ike."

Ike pouts at the implication. “I'm not! I’ve never flirted in my life.”

“What was that, then?”

“The truth,” he says plainly.

“Yep, you’ve had way too much to drink.” You rise up from the couch, refusing to let his unfiltered thoughts be detected as honest. However a weight holds you down. Ike clings to your legs, preventing you from getting up. "Wh—hey!"

"Nooo, don't go."

"What's the matter?" You try to wiggle him off, but Ike's grip tightens. Fluffy sand-and-sea hair rustles against your leg as Ike nuzzles you, face hot with liquor. Nerves kick in. Ike might be an affectionate drunk, but the most you've seen him is hug your friends with one arm and playfully sock them without much impact. There's no way he's thinking straight, not if he's intent on using your lap as a pillow. "Ike, I need to get up."

"I don't want you to go."

"I'm not going, I just need to get up."

"But that's the same thing."

"No, it's not. It's..." You inhale through your teeth as he tugs you back down. "Oh, Ike. I need to take care of you so you don’t regret this when you sober up."

Ike rests his cheek against your thigh now that you're back to sitting on the couch. He exhales. Warm breath settles over your clothes. "I regret everything I don't do with you."

Your furrow your brow. "That doesn’t make sense."

He raises his legs to his chest, curling up in your lap. "It makes sense to—to me." He hiccups. A hand brushes against your leg, then retracts as soon as Ike realizes he placed it there.

Drunkenness has granted him a dreamy tint to his jade eyes as he looks up to you, but you're starting to realize what's gotten into him. The weight of it presses down your back, just like how you support his head in your lap. "You make me want to do everything I wish I could do. If I was braver. Or honest." Ike sighs again. "I wish I was good enough for you."

You’re not sure if this is a conversation Ike wants to have drunk. You're not even sure if this is a conversation Ike wants to have sober. It's voyeuristic, listening to his thoughts out loud, the filter dividing personal and public nowhere to be seen. He's always been a private guy with his feelings—at least, he's never told you any of them. You think you understand why now. It makes you feel dirty. Like you've seen too much.

Ike blinks. Tentatively, his fingers brush your knee again. Eyelashes obscure the blue hope in his eyes, making way for the uncertainty laced in spring and jade green. The fear in ochre yellow.

He regains his sense of shame, closes his eyes, and tilts his head away, focusing on the threads on your clothing instead of his true feelings. They come out in a whisper. "I must be an awful friend for hiding from you."

"You're not awful," you say, just as hushed. He's never been. Ike's greatest critic has always been himself. He's never going to remember this, either. You're certain he's going to black out by morning, or pretend like he did, and that this never happened. You could too.

It's unclear if you're an awful friend for reaching out to Ike. You'll decide later.

But right now, all that matters is your nails light against his scalp, stroking his messy hair, smoothing down the strands like you’re brushing the thought away. Away. Let it go, Ike, I'll brush it away, away, away.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"Uggh," Ike says groggily.

He fell asleep in your lap while you consoled him. It made your heart hurt, but the pain ebbed by the time you could hear his soft snores. Now that he's stirring, the hurt has dulled to a slight, simple bruise on your heart: easy to ignore, tender when pressed.

"Something going on?" You ask, careful not to be too loud.

"Urggg," Ike repeats. It's not groggy, you realize. It's nauseous.

You snap up. "Oh, no no no no nonononononono. Keep it together, Ike, keep it together!" You help him up and guide him to the bathroom. Simply put, he gets there in time. You hold his hair away from his face as Ike leans over the toilet and empties his stomach's contents.

Naturally in a moment of sickness, Ike is inelegant. Earlier, he used his mantle as a blanket, and abandoned it on the couch when he woke up. One of his fishnet gloves is missing. He leans so deeply that you can see the ridges of his spine through his button-up shirt, wrinkled from rest. You smooth it down, brushing the nausea away by rubbing circles on your friend's back.

He expressed so much about what you mean to him, yet the only appropriate thing you can call him is a friend...

Ike gasps for air. "Hell," he slurs, just before spitting up more of his sickness. He weakly grabs at the nearest wall as support. You can feel his stomach shuddering just by stroking his back, coloring the toilet water each time he retches. "Hel-helvete..."

"Don't talk, just get it all out," you say. He makes an unflattering noise in response; the vomit splatters against the bowl.

And to think, you thought yourself alien before. Clumsiness is common for Ike, but now it’s like guiding an ungraceful animal. He plucks off his glasses, tosses them aside. It feels like holding a cat by the scruff, a bag of rice by its seam.

Ike rasps. “Don’t go,” he pleads, throaty from slumber, slurred from stomach acid. The thought has yet to go away. “Do-don’t go.”

“I’m not leaving.” You set his glasses on the counter, pat his shoulders, and rip off a square of toilet paper.

Now that he’s seemed to recover, you tilt his head to face you. Ike averts jade-green eyes as you pad at his lip with the makeshift napkin. For the first time tonight, proper embarrassment overtakes him. His lip parts to protest, but freezes before the words come out, mentally rejecting whatever is on his mind.

The freeze extends to the rest of his face as you wipe at it. You try not to focus on his eyes, scrunched up with shame. His brows lower as he shuts them. It's only when you can't see the color anymore that you realize you've been paying attention whether you like it or not.

At least now you can observe him without feeling too awkward. Ike's a wreck. Obviously. His hair sticks out from where you held it out of his face. You have to use another square of toilet paper to clean him up. Luckily he's regaining his sense of decency, despite how his face is too ghastly pale to blush.

Ike sighs, barely coherent. "I feel gross."

"It's okay, it happens," you console. Nearby on the counter is a cheap plastic cup. You fill it up with water, then offer it to him. "How are you feeling?"

"...Better." He grabs it with his gloved hand, and traces a bare finger around the edge with the other. "But still gross."

"It happens."

"And I feel bad." You spring up, ready for action, but Ike waves you off as he continues. "Not like that. Just bad."

Instead he takes the cup and swishes, trying to clear the taste of bile. He spits into the toilet (just saliva and water, thankfully). Without his glasses, it's easier to see his hooked nose, especially as he pinches the bridge of it. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

"What? No, don't worry about it!" You pat Ike's back again. "I'm your friend, of course I want to make sure you're doing alright."

"I don't know how I thought I had a chance."

"It's okay, you just had too much. Don't beat yourself up over it."

"You're t-too good for me."

"No, I'm your friend."

"I should've figured." For the first time Ike seems to notice he only has one glove on. He rubs his thumb over the fishnet as he stares into the cheap plastic, the crystal water above it. "My imagination always gets the best of me and I have to pretend like I—like I didn't get my hopes up for nothing." He hiccups again. He already threw up all the booze, but you can still smell the alcohol on his breath as he stumbles through his words.

"You're drunk," you say, because now is not the time. No matter how much it pains him to express it, or how much it pains you to keep quiet, Ike deserves better than your true thoughts when he won't remember them at all. It would be cruel to play with his heart.

In the quiet introspection, Ike sits down on the bathroom tile and leans against the wall. He swallows down the alcohol taste. Shadows carve out his exhausted features, including the eye bags usually hidden by his glasses, and the lost, lamenting green of his eye. There's no way he can hear your thoughts, but the emotion sits heavy on his shoulders. He understands the hesitance.

Ike says, "I know." There's nothing to do about it. All you can do is pretend tonight never happened, or that Ike knew how to hold himself back, or that you never had these feelings to begin with.

"I wish I didn't," he adds. Already he protests the silence. It's an elaborate dance around the elephant in the room, but all he wants to do is get in his high heels and trip. If he could he would crash into everything, make a mess, stumble and slip and fall just as hard as he fell for you, over and over again, until he sprains his ankles and his body turns black and blue and the world swirls with dizziness. It wouldn’t be much of a difference. You make him go zero-gravity. Floating on air. The things he dreams of have wings in never-ending motion, away, away, away. "I think I need to lie down."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

should i make a part 2?

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #ike eveland angst #ike eveland fluff #luxiem x reader #luxiem #nijisanji en #nijisanji en x reader #4402 writes #luxiem imagines #luxiem headcanons

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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

Text

cold nights // part eleven

summary: may the odds be ever in your favour.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, indirect suicidal ideation (she's losing it just a little), r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: the games are almost over...

series masterlist // playlist

You climb up out of the hole in the floor you had first entered with Jessup over a day ago, peeking carefully over the edge. Coral and Mizzen were standing guard at the vent exits in the stands, too distracted to notice as you wave at Reaper, trying to catch his eye.

You had spent the past half hour dragging Jessup toward the exit, you wanted to help, but you couldn't get him up the rocks you stood on now; not with the weakness of hunger leaving your hands shakey and the wound on your leg making it nearly impossible to move much on your own.

"No, no... Come on..." Coryo groans to himself, shaking his head at you as you try and grab your enemy's attention. Clemensia wasn't there, but if she was, he knew she would be laughing. He thought you might have been dead in those vents, especially after watching the other two tributes go in after you. You were alive, but seemingly not for long.

"Reaper." You whisper, your voice almost silent. The air carries his name to him and he turns his head to look at you. He tilts his head, standing and reaching for his blade, but you're not scared. You duck back down quickly before Coral or Mizzen hear his footsteps and look to see where he's going. They wouldn't go after him, not yet, but they were absolutely after you.

You check to make sure he's still coming before climbing back down to where you left Jessup.

The District Eleven boy peers over the edge to make sure this isn't some kind of trap, and you sense his hesitation. "Can you bring him up?" You whisper, kneeling again next to the body of your friend. "I couldn't get him up, but he deserves to be with them. He needs his dignity. Please, Reaper."

His expression softens and he nods solemnly, climbing down. "You can kill me, if you want." You say softly, and he looks at you confused as he hoists the boy up in his arms. "I'll go with you. Just, lay me with him. Please?"

He sighs, shaking his head softly before climbing up with Jessup draped over his shoulder. You follow, limp in every step as you make your way across the floor toward your demise. Head held high.

Coryo is clutching the edge of his desk as he stands over it, shaking his head. He looks back at his cousin, only briefly enough to catch the tears forming in her eyes at what they both know is about to happen.

"Can I... Can I say something first? For them?" You ask, just as Coral and Mizzen realize at the same time that you're out in the open, no longer hiding.

"I'm not going to kill you." Reaper mutters, shaking his head as he pulls the fabric over your friend's body.

You look at him with tears in your eyes, offering a smile. Coryo knew that smile, one of realization and fear. The very same one you had on your face at the reaping. "No..." He shakes his head at you, pleading with you to just run.

You look away from Reaper as Coral is climbing down the wall, clearly intent on getting to you.

"I'm sorry about Dill." You tell him and he's already gripping his weapon tighter, ready to defend himself. You could see in his eyes he didn't want to.

He looks at you, respect being the only descriptor of what's behind his gaze as you kneel before the flag of the country that had so deeply wronged you.

"One summer Sabbath day I strolled among the green mounds of the village burial-place;" You start, closing your eyes in attempted acceptance of what was to come. "Where, pondering how all human love and hate find one sad level..."

What you and your mentor are both expecting doesn't come as the two tributes get closer, and shockingly to him, Reaper steps between them and you, blade held tight. He's armed to defend the eulogy all of those kids deserved which only you could offer.

"And how, soon or late, Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face, and cold hands folded over a still heart," Your voice begins to shake. "Pass the green threshold of our common grave, Whither all footsteps tend, whence none depart, Awed for myself, and pitying my race, our common sorrow, like a mighty wave..."

Coryo is angry when the face of Dr. Gaul interrupts your eulogy on the screen. He would miss your last words, your death. He couldn't even be there in your final moments, and it made him sick. However, it was the respect you deserved. As she talked on about the death of his classmate from the bombing, he hoped the cameras wouldn't show you at all. Just your body covered by the fabric of the flag, a new figure wrinkling the material, occupying the space underneath it next to Jessup.

"I swear to you here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there is to be no victor in these games." Dr. Gaul's words finally pique your mentor's interest, memory, and realization coming back to him. He quickly taps through his communicuff, typing rapidly and hitting send before rushing out of the hall. He promised you he would do everything he could. The least he could do for you was stay true to his word.

"Well, those were some lovely last words." Coral laughs bitterly and you just hum.

"They are for you as well, should you see it fit." You tell her, opening your eyes but making no effort to flee, palms resting on the battered and bruised skin of your thighs.

She chuckles, shaking her head. "No, no. The difference between me and all of you is that I'm gonna win."

You watch as Mizzen looks away from his ally, eyes landing on the ground and Reaper clenches his jaw.

"Swept away all my pride, and trembling, I forgave." You finish off the poem, looking back down to the red sheet in front of you.

"What are you even talking about?" Coral asks. "Genuinely, what do you mean? I'm sick of this. I don't understand a thing you say!"

"I forgive you, if you win." You tell her in plainer terms, tilting your head. "I hope you can forgive yourself, that is all."

"No forgiveness needed." She says through gritted teeth, raising her trident as she moves to run at you.

You close your eyes again, tipping your head back and letting out a slow breath to combat the intense beating of your heart.

Again, the pain doesn't come as you hear the clashing of weapons just next to you, and the subtle hum of approaching drones.

Looking up behind you, you see several flying in a row and you duck quickly enough as it flies toward you for it to just miss you. You scramble to get up, ignoring the chaos around you as one by one, the water bottles fly into the other tributes. Reaper was much better at dodging them than the other two were, and you can't help but view it as some kind of justice. If Coryo was sending them in one after another as some kind of distraction, to save you, you were glad Reaper wasn't being harmed in the process.

It must have been Coryo. All of them seem to circle in on you, and as you spin out of the way they take out Mizzen and Coral just enough to buy you time. Their mentors had clearly been less generous; to you, their efforts to evade the flying metal drones were pointless.

The last one is different, coming in moments later than the others as Coral and Mizzen struggle to get back on their feet.

You drop down to let it fly over you, scrambling for the small container that looked like the previous ones that had contained a note. You grab it and run into the debris in the middle of the room, using it to hide while you open the note.

"Get up high. No time. -C"

You look out the side facing the other tributes you just ran from. "How did you let her get away?" Coral spits at her ally, once again uninterested in going after Reaper. "You're useless!"

You shake your head, slowly shuffling over to the other side. Looking across the floor and up to the stands, you think you could make your way up to the rafters. You take a deep breath. You have to run.

You're working up the courage to do it when a loud whirring sound comes from above you. Now's your chance- they won't hear you, so you might buy yourself a few extra yards. You're glad you did when you look back at the large tank being lowered down onto the pile of rubble you were just under, the wind whipping your hair around and in your face.

Coryo must have been warning you about whatever that is, so you run as fast as you can on your injured leg, feeling blood soak through the material again with the exertion. You quickly scale the wall, not looking back again as you quickly climb the stairs to the back of the stands. You stop at the top, adrenaline coursing through your veins with every heartbeat as you reach down to untie the scarf with frantic hands.

You glance down as you do, surveying the arena just as Wovey walks out. "Is it over? Can we go home now?"

"Wovey..." Reaper warns, having taken your spot kneeling next to the bodies that are now exposed from the wind.

"Wovey!" You call to her and she doesn't even turn to look at you. "Wovey, come up here, sweetheart! Quickly!" You try to mask the urgency in your voice, already descending the stairs again to try and get to her. Then you stop yourself when you get to the railing.

What would be the use in helping her now? That was your gut instinct, but if you saved her, you would have no choice but to take your own life if you were left the only two survivors of whatever came out of that tank. Or would you? The you who boarded the train to the Capitol would do it in a heartbeat, but she was someone else now, hardly more than a voice in the back of your mind.

You're still facing this internal battle as the tank shatters, thousands of snakes pouring out over the ground as Coral and Mizzen attempt to follow the same path you did up into the stands. It's too late for Wovey, so you turn to run back up the stairs.

You didn't realize how fast snakes could be. By the time you reached the top, they were already climbing the base of the stairs below you, right behind Coral.

"Y/N! Wait!" She cries out helplessly as you're backed against the wall.

The old you would be mortified at the smile that forms on your face as you watch her stumble, allowing the snakes to reach her. "No... Y/N, please... I'm begging you." You just stare at her, tilting your head and still fighting the smile on your lips. "No... It's not fair. It's not- it's not... I can't have killed them all for nothing."

"The wheel is come full circle." You quote, "Don't you see, Coral? It was always going to be for nothing." You're unsure if she even hears it before she goes limp.

You don't have time to revel in the irony, though, looping the bloodied scarf over the beam above you and hoisting your feet off the ground just in time to avoid the snakes. They climbed the wall, so you don't stop there, swinging your leg over and pulling yourself up, standing on unsteady legs to shuffle across to the next point where you can get higher.

Coryo watches as you climb higher and higher into the remains of the crumbled ceiling, huffing from just having run back into the crowded hall. When would Dr. Gaul call it? You had escaped, and you were clearly the only one left by the time you got so high you couldn't walk in the rafters anymore, having to tie the scarf on both sides of a pipe to build a makeshift hammock for yourself that you just squeeze into enough to sit on.

You can finally catch your breath, gripping onto the bar you're hanging from and resting your head against it.

"She cheated! She shouldn't have even been allowed to bring that in!" Festus cries out, clearly upset by his own tribute losing.

"Wearing clothes is cheating now? If you had it your way they would all be sent in naked, right?" Coryo spits at him, gesturing to the screen and turning to look up at Dr. Gaul in the stands. "Get her out!"

"There's two tributes unaccounted for." She shakes her head.

"Yeah, they're dead by now! You saw the snakes go in there!" He argues, gesturing to the screen. "She's won, Dr. Gaul. Please." She eyes him skeptically.

"Get her out!" Tigris stands, having his back without any hesitation.

Dr. Gaul raises a hand to silence the room as others start to voice their agreement. "Tomorrow morning we will send people in to search for the other two tributes." She states, leaving no room for argument as she steps out.

Coryo huffs, shaking his head and walking over to his cousin. "What do I do?" He asks her quietly as she stands to speak with him.

"I think we just have to wait it out, Coryo..." She answers, reaching up to rub his shoulders. "It's not ideal, but she can survive one more night. No one can hurt her now."

"With all those snakes in there with her? I wouldn't be surprised if those snakes grow legs in the night and climb up there."

"Coryo, they won't." She assures him. "All we can do is wait."

Sitting up there for hours with no signs of help coming has made you feel incredibly lonely. Your mentor can't send you anything, there's no shot you would catch it or even be able to move out of the way. That is, if he was even still watching. The sun had set a while ago, he should have gone to bed by now.

You yawn and rub your eyes, back cramping from holding your weight the way it has for so long. You sigh, gently tapping your forehead on the cold metal bar you're hanging from in a weak attempt to keep yourself awake. If you fall asleep, that could mean your death. You'd come too far, sacrificed too many of your morals to lose now.

You regret what you had said to Coral before she died. You regret not trying harder to save Wovey. You regret setting the salt trap on Treech and Tanner in the vents, though your overtired and malnourished mind is still convincing you it was just table salt. You regret not helping Jessup while you still could have. You wonder if Coriolanus regrets what he did to Bobbin.

You take the compact out of your pocket, slowly and carefully. You turn it over in your hand for a moment, mulling over everything you had done. Even in one day, you had tossed away everything you stood for. You felt like you weren't even yourself anymore.

Coryo yawns as he looks over the book in his hand, rubbing his eyes before returning his gaze back to the screen when he catches your movement in the corner of his eye.

You're opening the compact, staring into it with such intensity that he truly cannot tell what you're thinking. He couldn't see if it was empty or not, but he hadn't seen you touch it until now and the angle at which you were holding it without powder pouring out made him assume that the boys in the vents were not likely dead from snake venom.

Coryo is quickly doubting what is left of the powder he gave you when a tear falls from one eye, steadily sliding over your dirtied skin. No. She wouldn't- not when she's already won, right?

Maybe it's because you hadn't heard from him that you felt so alone. Before he can think over the consequences of possibly knocking you down from the rafters he's sending you more water. Just so you know he's there.

The leftover residue of the salt that was inside the compact was looking like it could help. On what level, you didn't fully understand anymore, but you knew that if you just smelled what was left of it, you would feel better. You would be free of your regrets and would be home in an instant; such a tempting thought was hard to resist.

Coryo couldn't be more pleased that as you began to lift the metal compact toward your face, the drone flew in and missed you just close enough that it knocked the compact out of your hand, throwing it to the floor below you.

You hadn't heard it coming, completely zoned out. You blink a few times, looking around and watching as the drone gets caught in the rafters and falls into the stands, the water bottle shattering in the process.

The crazed, evil look in your mentor's eyes is another thing able to keep you up by this point. It didn't look like the boy you knew at all. It's like your Coryo wasn't even there- it was Coriolanus. But now, he was still with you. The irony of it isn't lost on you, and you find yourself laughing.

Coryo was no longer Coryo, and you were no longer you.

"Coriolanus, can you hear me all the way up here?" You call out, expecting nothing anyway.

No response, but in Heavensbee Hall Coriolanus is taking a breath of relief, having seemingly prevented you from taking your own life. You were so close. He wouldn't lose you now.

"His sword, death's stamp, where it did mark, it took. From face to foot he was a thing of blood, whose every motion was timed with dying cries!" Your laughs quickly devolve into sobs, tears warming the cold skin of your cheeks. You thought you knew him. You thought he cared for you, and that was crushed so quickly that you ran.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he watches, completely unable to help you while you clearly fall apart.

"Do you regret it?" You cry. "Coriolanus? Is that who you are?"

"No..." He mumbles in response.

"I thought..." You sniff. "I thought you were good."

He remembers what Tigris told him that very same night. That he wasn't full of hate like his father. That he could be good. That he is good. He did what he had to do to survive, and his heart physically hurts hearing you say that you saw something different. He remembers what you wrote in your note that he shouldn't have read yet. You believe- believed he was good too. Even just knowing that you changed your mind makes his stomach turn.

You're quiet for a few moments before you continue. "But I can't blame you for what you did..." You say, so quiet that the microphone hardly picks it up at all. "I am no better."

Coryo furrows his brow. You were so much better. He's almost certain that your kindness, your purity is one of the only reasons he feels regret for his actions at all.

"I wish it was me." You cry out. "It should have been me!" You're screaming now, your anger finally eating away at you.

He shakes his head at you, grateful that he is the only one still around.

"What if this cursed hand were thicker than itself with brother's blood? Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens to wash it white as snow?" You sob out every word, begging the universe to forgive you for what you had done. This night was your karma. Without that compact, it would go on forever. "Please..."

All he can do is return to the book, trying to remember you as you truly are, hardly taking in a word of it as he reels over what to say to you come your freedom in the morning.

The sun is rising, finally, when you look down and see the piles and piles of lifeless snakes. They must not have survived the night. It was too cold.

Hesitantly, you shimmy your way down the bar so you could climb back down, getting close enough to see if they really were all dead. You pick up a piece of broken cement from on top of one of the beams, tossing it down onto the large pile of snakes on the stairs. Almost no movement. As you scan the arena, you don't much slithering. It's quiet. Seems safe enough.

You jump down quietly onto the stairs, finally able to fully stretch out. It felt so good as you walked down even with the wound on your leg, making your way over to where you had seen the compact fall the night before. You take a few minutes to find it under the arena seats, before pocketing it and sliding down the same rubble pile you climbed up last night. That was the longest night of your life. Your eyes were puffy from crying for hours, lips dry from dehydration, and your skin felt clammy from your body trying to keep itself warm all night.

You walk across the ground, stepping carefully over all the dead snakes, turning and waving to the camera, plastering on your smile. You were exhausted. You needed something. Anything.

But nothing would come. You frown, looking around again. You settle just for wandering, once again tying the scarf around your waist. Coryo must hate you for what you said. You shouldn't have been so mean about it, but you were angry- hardly even yourself anymore. Or maybe he was just sleeping. He said he would be with you the whole time, but it would be nice to know that he at least went home to get some rest.

Even when you were angry, when he had taken what you needed from you last night, it was hard to deny how much you still cared for him.

As you walk in circles around the centre of the arena, you're startled by some of the snakes beginning to move. Or maybe they always had been moving, and you just weren't observant enough from being so overtired. They make no effort to attack you, though. Minding their own business even after the fervor at which they hunted everyone last night.

Scanning the large pile of rubble in the middle to see how many snakes were seemingly coming back to life, you tilt your head as your eye catches on something white. A piece of paper, unfolded on the ground next to where the tank used to be. You have to step past dozens of snakes to get there, curiously picking it up. Any living snakes made no effort to bite you as you grabbed it and turned it over in your hand. It was your note, the one you asked Sejanus to give to Coryo before you entered the games.

You look around, unsure how this could have gotten in. Maybe he had dropped it while he was here the other night, but you weren't sure how a single piece of paper could have gone unnoticed that long.

You reread it as you make your way over to where Lamina and Marcus had been, climbing up so you could lay down there while you wait for rescue to come.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

#tbosas #tbosas x reader #tbosas fic #tbosas fanfiction #hunger games #thg #thg series #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo x reader #snow lands on top #coryo snow

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kamaela · 4 months ago

Text

To Be Punished (M, 1k)

Fic by me

I wrote a fic for a discord challenge: Outsider POV. Read below or on AO3

Tags:

POV Outsider, Major Character Death, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, Angst and Tragedy, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Auror Harry Potter, Sad Ending

Summary:

An Azkaban guard bears witness to Draco and Harry and all that stands between them.

***

Inmate #227: D. Malfoy. High Risk. 24-hour guard. No visitors.

Don’t interact with the inmate. That was one of the first things she’d been told during training. She was to stand guard, silent and alert. She was not to engage.

—

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Harry Potter spat. He was angrier than she’d ever seen him in the papers.

He wasn’t a visitor. He was here on ‘official Auror business.’

Malfoy lay in his cot, staring at the ceiling. He’d been that way since he’d arrived, straight from his trial. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb. I was there!” The wards stretching between them shuddered.

“I’m not sure why you’re asking me about it, then.”

“I want to know why. We had a plan. You didn’t just stray from it, you blew it up. With wandless fucking magic!”

Malfoy sat up, turned. “They insulted her! You know how I—I couldn’t control it.”

“They’re gonna use this to jack up your sentence. All that work we did—”

—

Malfoy’s sentencing hearing lasted no more than 15 minutes. Two Aurors escorted him back to his cell. Harry Potter, pale and unsteady, wasn’t far behind.

“Draco, I—”

“Twenty years,” Malfoy said. His voice shook.

“It’s okay, I’m going to fix this. I’m gonna get Hermione and I—we’re gonna fix this.”

Malfoy laughed. “You’re an idiot, Potter.”

—

Harry Potter visited every few weeks. Today, he vibrated with fevered enthusiasm. She watched his steps as he paced in front of the cell.

“There’s heaps of evidence of corruption, not just in the Wizengamot. With the right angle, Hermione thinks we can build a really strong case. Maybe—Draco, are you listening to me?”

“No.”

—

“No luck?” Malfoy was leaning against the wall, picking his nails. He seemed unconcerned, but she knew better. He’d paced in his cell right up to the minute Harry had stepped through the door.

“I don't know why you're so smug about it.”

“Even the Boy Who Lived can't save the poor teenage Death Eater.”

Harry ran the toe of his boot along the stone floor.

“Twenty years Draco. I'm not sure I can—”

“I'm not asking you to.”

—

“I dreamt about that night on the rooftop, when we—”

“Oh.” A small private smile flickered across Harry’s face.

She started to wonder if it really was Auror business he was here for.

“I think you should stop coming by, Harry.”

—

It had been a few months, but Harry came back. It seemed he couldn’t keep away.

Draco’s voice was sharp. “What are you doing here, I told them I didn't want—”

“I paid off the guards.”

A scoff. “Of course.”

Harry stepped closer to the barrier. “You look—have you been sleeping?”

Draco laughed, shifting his gaze to her as if they shared an inside joke.

—

“They agreed to a hearing,” Harry exclaimed.

She hadn’t seen Draco get out of his cot for 72 hours. Today was no exception.

“Well, aren't you pleased?” Harry prompted.

“I have no feelings about it one way or another.”

—

“I saw Mother last night.” Draco’s eyes were puffy. Her colleague had said he’d been crying all night.

“Oh.”

“This place, Harry. I need to get out.”

Harry tugged his maroon robes.

“I'm so sorry. They upheld the decision.”

Draco put his head in his hands.

—

“I saw Mother again. He was there, too.”

“I'm sorry. Let's talk about something happy.”

“Happy?”

“Christmas. At The Manor? You remember, we tried to make gingerbread?”

A soft chuckle, “Oh yes, that was…”

—

“I can’t stop the dreams. I could never—the only time they stopped was when we—”

“I know,” Harry rested his forehead against the barrier. “Gods, I wish I could hold you.”

The dementors were gone, but the infection they’d left behind was vicious. She wondered if she should log an incident report. Nightmares were an early sign.

—

Draco had been pacing and muttering for hours before Harry arrived.

“Draco.”

“I’ve still got that twelve inch charms essay to finish.”

“Draco, it’s me. Harry.”

Draco kept pacing.

“Will you look at me?”

Draco did. “I miss you.”

—

“Mother visited last night,”

“Oh really?”

“She says hello.”

“Well, that’s nice of her.”

—

“Harry, I keep seeing him. I keep—I don’t want to go back there.”

“I know.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. It’s okay. I’m gonna fix this.”

She felt it was rather unfair of Harry to give him false hope.

—

“We’re going to keep trying, I’m not giving up.”

“It’s okay, Harry.”

A strangled sound. “No. Don’t—”

“At least we got those months. That’s more than I ever…” Draco pressed a hand against the barrier, and the gesture seemed like a declaration.

“Don’t,” Harry whispered, a plea.

—

“I wish we’d had more time,” Harry said.

Draco laughed.

“Draco, what are you—”

“They took away my bedframe. I have no sheets.” He kept laughing.

—

Draco’s hair was matted. He’s been refusing to shower.

“Potter, what are you doing? You can't be here.”

“Draco—”

“He’ll be here any second. My Aunt, she called him—”

“We’re not at—”

“No! Harry, you have to get out. You have to win. Please. Go.”

“Okay, Draco. I’ll go.”

Harry hadn’t let her see him cry, until then.

—

“Harry.” Draco sat pressed right up against Harry, touching, if not for the magic weaved between them. “I’m not sure I can keep doing this.”

“I know.” Harry’s voice was small, kind. “I won’t ask you to.”

“In a different life, do you think—” Draco’s face crumpled. She had to look away.

Harry rubbed his eyes repeatedly. “Yes, love. In any life.”

—

He wasn’t a next-of-kin, nor a registered visitor, so he hadn't been notified.

He arrived as usual, glasses askew.

She hadn’t been trained for this.

“Mr. Potter.”

“Where is he? Have you moved him?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

His green eyes dulled as he collapsed onto the floor. She wondered then, as the hero’s sobs rent the air, who this place punished more.

#my writing #drarry #drarry fanfiction #harry potter #draco malfoy #harry x draco

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collapsedglasshouses · 1 year ago

Text

Consequences || Noah Sebastian x Reader [Part 4]

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Summary: When Y/N gets to their hotel room, she finally finds closure to all the confusing events.

Warnings: MDNI!!, 18+, NSFW, SMUT, unprotected sex (p in v) (wrap it before you tap it!), fluffy as hell, swearing, let me know if I forgot something

Taglist: @jakekiszkasguitarpick @blackveilomens @kingdomof-omens (congrats you can call yourself 'jazz' first tag team members' lmao)

IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST, PLS DM ME OR COMMENT ♡

A/N: Well, well, well… I don’t even know what to say… I couldn’t wait until tomorrow so here you have the next chapter! I let myself get inspired for this chapter. I read The Love Hypothesis again and this one quote out of it will always stick with me. Do you notice which one?

It's been three minutes since Noah left the room. You heart was racing. You didn't even know what to think. Didn't he say he wanted to talk about this when we got home? Was it going to be bad?

Your mind was racing when you stepped closer to Jolly. "I need you to do me a favor-..." - "Not going into our room for the next three hours and at best keep Nick from going to bed so he doesn't hear anything? You're welcome."

You gave Jolly a thankful and apologetic smile before slowly walking away from your group. When you came to a stop in front of your hotel room, you couldn't help but feel like you felt that night you landed under Noah's bed. Does he just wanna have sex now?

You quietly opened the door with your key and stepped into the room. There he was. Sitting on his bed, staring straight ahead seemingly deep in his thoughts. You quickly got out of your high heels before walking towards him. When you sat down next to him, you let out a devoted sigh.

"We should talk about this." He said quietly before swallowing hard. You knew this was going to be hard. Neither Noah nor you were good at talking about serious topics when it came to things between you two. You remembered that often when you annoyed each other, you would just remain silent until there was no longer a problem. So now you just nodded and hoped he would begin to talk.

But nothing happened. You two sat their in silence.

You started to think. You knew you wanted to talk with him but not once you thought about what you actually felt. It wasn't normal for best friends to just randomly hook up after ten years of being nothing but platonic.

You exhaled frustrated. "Fuck... We behave like fucking teenagers, Noah. We're literally grown adults. Why is it so fucking hard to just talk?" You stood up and started pacing around the room.

Noah looked at you. When you noticed it, you came to a stand in front of him. "What is this?" - "Y/N, I have no idea." - "I don't know it either but we need to figure it out before someone gets hurt."

Now he was the one who sighed and than he cradled his head in his hands.

"What the fuck are we doing?" You began to cry out. "What the fuck am I even doing?" With that his head shot back up to look at you. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Noah..." You swallowed hard, being a lot more sad and frustrated than you originally thought. "You are... a fucking well known rock star. You aren't just the boy anymore who lived down the street that I maybe admired a little too much when you came over to game with my brother." You sighed. "You aren't even the boy anymore who took my virginity because I was panicking about being the last in my friend group... You are a lot more now... You are you and I am me and... I don't even know what I was thinking. You are literally my best friend, Noah."

"So-..." He began. "...you regret what happened between us?" You had a feeling his eyes changed with your statement. They looked emptier.

"No, no, no...Noah." You cried out and looked at him apologetic. "That's not even in the slightest close to reality... That's the problem… I don't regret one second with you. I think, there wasn't one day in the past two weeks that I haven’t thought of you." You explained and ran a hand through your hair. "The thing is... I feel weird. On the one hand you are my best friend. You are Nick's best friend. You are the closest friend I ever had. I think nobody knows as much about me as you do. And I love that. But on the other hand there is this thing between us. Something that I have never felt with anyone before. That scares the shit out of me, Noah."

You felt like you read straight out of your diary and metaphorically you lost a piece of clothing with each sentence you spoke to him.

"Y/N."

"I don't wanna be one of your adventures, Noah."

"Y/N."

"I heard you talking about so many girls that come and left. Either them or you not being serious."

"Y/N."

"I saw you get hurt and I don't wanna be the one to do that to you."

"Y/N"

"I just don't wanna be one of those short funny stories that you tell the boys while drinking beer."

"Y/N, you know that would never happen."

"Why are you so sure of that, Noah? Why would you think this all could work? Why would you think Nick wouldn't hate us being... whatever this is?"

"Because I love you."

Your mouth dropped slightly open while you felt like someone knock all the oxygen out of your lungs. You couldn't breath. He loved you.

Your gaze slightly softens while you looked at the man in front of you. The man who also was the boy who told you he would raise a child with you that wasn't even his when you were just 18. The boy who played every song under the planet on his guitar as long as you would stop crying about this guy who broke your heart in eighth grade. You looked at this man, the man who had nothing but love in his heart for you the whole time you knew him.

You swallowed while taking a hesitant step towards him, not being able to form a sentence. You came to a rest when you stood right between his legs.

"You don't have to say it when you don't feel it but-..." - "Say it again, Noah." You lifted his chin so he had no chance but to look you in the eyes. His hands came up to rest at your hips. "I love you, Y/N... I-... I think i loved you for a long time. I just didn't realize it until those things between us happened."

With that you slightly bent down and pressed you lips to his. All of a sudden you felt like you were going to explode. Nothing ever felt this good. Everything that you worried or thought about just started to make sense. It was so clear in front of you all along. You were madly in love with Noah.

You felt how he fidgeted with the sipper on your dress and when he opened it you let it slip down to the floor. He interrupted the kiss for a second to admire you.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

Everything inside you started to tingle. Maybe it was his words or his tone. Maybe it was the fact he was so vulnerable around you. You just knew there was no way back. You needed Noah.

You instantly kissed him again while you unbuttoned his pants. When those dropped to the floor, you crawled onto his lap while your tongues started to fight for dominance.

"We definitely need to tell Nick." He gasped, out of breath, while you unbuttoned his black shirt. You nodded. "But definitely not now." You joked and made him chuckle before pushing him back onto the mattress. For a second you just admired him under you. How his laugh reached his eyes. How his lips were slightly pink from your kisses. How his hair fell onto his forehead. You didn't find one thing about this man you didn't love.

You leaned down to him and kissed his cheek.

"What was that for?" He asked you surprised while his hands drew circles on your exposed hips.

"I love you too, Noah." With that his eyes lit up and with a quick movement you found yourself under him.

"God, I missed you." Noah muttered against your mouth, making you smile. You always wanted to be loved like this and didn't realise he was exactly in front of you.

He quickly helped you out of your bra and before you knew you also lost your underwear.

When he kissed you again, you grabbed his face with your hands, noticing how you missed touching him.

"Fuck" he mumbled as he kissed along your collarbone. This alone let you moan a little. Every cell of your boy craved him.

"I'm not letting you go ever again." he almost moaned out while his hand found your core. His fingers found your clit with ease and he began to work you in circles. Your jaw dropped open in surprise at the shock of pleasure it sent down your spine.

You cried out when he suddenly stopped his movements and kissed his way back up to your face.

"Noah, I need you." You moaned when he looked back into your eyes. "I'm right here." He teased and than started to attack your neck. You knew those kisses would leave bruises, making you moan even loader.

"I-... I need you inside of me." You stuttered while your body seemed to tremble in pleasure.

"Oh god, you're gonna be the death of me." He moaned while getting up to get out of his boxers.

You bit your lip as you looked at his naked form. He was so pretty. He climbs back on top of you while you open your legs for him. Never in your entire life did you need anyone as bad as you needed him right now.

So when he teases you with the tip of his cock, you could help but squirm for more. You buckle your hips and Noah laughs quiety.

"So needy and wet for me." You could only hum in agreement.

"Please, Noah." You beg. In this moment you just wanted him to tear you in half.

"God, you look so beautiful." He whispered and let his hand travel over your body one more time.

Finally, he started to sink into you. Your mouth fell open while you felt him stretch you out a bit and then pushing you to your limit. Instantly he let his head fall on your shoulder while moaning in sync with you.

Never in your entire life you heard a more beautiful sound. When he finally buried himself inside of you, he paused to let you adjust.

You couldn't even dare to breath in that moment.

"Is this okay?" He whispered in your ear. "Hmmm. Yes... Keep going."

You could feel his smile against your neck. He pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling out of you, drawing a surprised gasp from you before slowly going back into you. He did that a couple of times while heavy breathing was the only sound filling the air.

"You feel so fucking good." He groaned into your shoulder, causing you to wrap your arms around him and trying to pull him even closer.

You almost got impatient with his gentle touch so you pushed your hips off the bed to give him a hint that he got immediately.

You let out a small yelp when he suddenly thrusted harder into you hitting a certain spot. Your noises than made him go faster while your nails found their way across his back. If he wasn't that tattooed on his back, it would have been clear evidence about what was happening here.

"Harder." You begged him. He slammed into you causing you to moan even louder, but he dipped down and swallowed your sound with a deep kiss.

"You need to be more quiet, love. When we get to your place you can scream as loud as you want." He growls against your lips. Butterflies started to form in your stomach.

"Let me take care of you." He than whispered against you lips, reaching down between you with his other hand, pressing his index finger against you clit. You truly felt like you were about to explode into thin air and allowed yourself to think about what was happening right now.

Noah, your best friend of more than ten years, the man you were madly in love with, was pounding into you while also fingering you like he never did anything else in the entire world. His pace was almost punishing.

All the tension between you. Every time in the dead of the night when you gaslit yourself into believing you didn't think of him while you had your hand between your legs. All let to this.

When he changed the angle, hitting a new spot, you instantly buried your hands in his hair, as you felt your orgasm built. His hand still circling your clit while thrusting into you. "Fuck, Y/N, I need you to cum for me."

With that you were done. You moaned loudly while you reached your high, digging your nails into Noah's back, causing him to moan too.

That's when you felt it. He groaned your name and you felt him twitch inside of you, cum spreading through you.

It was an interesting sensation for you. One that made you squirm under him. He thrusted as deeply as he could for a few more times. The pleasure causing you to sink your teeth into his shoulder, biting down to lower the volume of your screams.

After you both helped each other through your highs, he slowly pulled out of you and looked you in the eyes.

"I'm not gonna drop the cheesy question, asking you to be my girlfriend because I think you know I'll not let you go anytime soon." He says before pecking your lips and than getting up to grab a cloth to clean you up.

"I would love to be your girlfriend, Noah." You answered him after came back and cleaned you up. Noah laughed and than wrapped his arms around your torso to cuddle you tightly.

He lifted his head and pressed his lips to yours. "I would love to be your boyfriend too, Y/N."

When he lay back down on your chest, you started playing with his hair and couldn't help but think about the reality that was just meters away from you.

How the hell would you explain all this to your brother?

READ PART 5 HERE.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #rpf #collapsedglasshouseswrites

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deepperplexity · 24 days ago

Text

Prompt 12: Missing Mirth [D2]

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant x Fem!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Continuation of: Prompt 9. Unwanted Solitude [D1]

Setting: Roughly 1.5 years after the end of the movie and Sinclair has divorced the it’s-absolutely-not-cheating-fucking-one’s-brother-while-married-to-a-sweetheart-bitch but now things are coming to light that you’ve hidden from him — including the very long and pining crush you’ve had of him since you met the man.

A/N: It’s almost seven in the evening (11th of December) and I’m staring at this blank page (obviously, it’s not blank when you read this but bear with me here) and I just have no idea what to write for this second part of the Sinclair duett… Like, no clue. Obviously, they need to get together - HEA guarantee that comes with Rickmas - but I just don’t know how sigh

*insert Spongebob meme - many hours later* Alright, it’s now a little over 12:00 today (12th of December) AND I DID IT! It turned out good, too, I think 👀 Unfortunately I don’t have the chance to send it to my certified Sinclair super-fan ( @snowblossomreads ) for a check but since she had no changes to make last time I’m gonna keep faith and hope I’ve managed to do Sinclair justice in this one as well 🙈 TIME FOR SOME CONFESSIONS AND SMUUUUUUUUT 🔥🔥🔥

Tags/TW’s: Confessions Of Love, Natalie Slander, Fluff, Smut (Explicit), Mentions Emotional Hurt, Mentions Neglecting Oneself, Years Of Secret Pining, Threats Of Violence In Thought, Threat Of Miscommunication (Solved Instantly), and they finally just get together while realising all those years they wanted each other! Whoooop!

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 4.5k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Missing Mirth

With a pair of Sinclair’s socks on your feet — as yours were drying — you sat down in the dining room with a cup of steamy tea each. Not a word had been spoken yet, and boy-oh-boy was that a strange experience with Sinclair. It was is if the very life in him had been washed out, the missing mirth and lack of joy he usually displayed during the holiday season absolutely nowhere to be found.

“Oh, right, a treat,” he declared and jumped out of his chair before striding in a rush toward the kitchen. You listened as he rummaged around in there for a moment, your stomach knotting further and further. At the same time, embarrassment of your quite sudden honesty seemed to infiltrate your thoughts — giving the knots in your stomach further reason to tighten. Why did I have to blurt it all out like that? I never blurt things out yet I even felt it was good to just get it out in the open like that? You sighed, squeezing the ear of the delicate teacup between your fingers. I’m such an idiot, and now he’s not even talking to me — what the hell do I do with a silent Sinclair?

As if on cue, the man entered with a tray stocked up with cookies. “There we go, a treat,” he announced but his voice was not quite as it should, nor were there any signs of him having eaten one while filling up the tray which was beyond odd. “Wait a minute—” you looked at the familiar cookies “—you haven’t eaten all of them yet? What’s wrong with you?” you blurted in disbelief as the tin you had left at his doorstep nearly a week ago with the very cookies now offered had obviously not run out within two days as it always did. The fact Sinclair seemed to have lost his appetite was not a red flag, it was a giant air horn blasting the loudest of warnings ever.

Sinclair looked sheepish but also sad, a strange combination seemingly rendering him speechless as he simply shrugged his shoulders while leaning back in his chair. “Sinclair,” you started, softening your voice as the knot in your stomach turned into a gnawing sensation. “Are you okay? There are no decorations up, and you're not acting as you normally do… I mean, there’s cookies left and you're not…” His eyes widened slightly. “I’m as fine and dandy as any old bloke could be.” “You’re not, though.”

He looked down at his tea. “Alright, amending my statement. I’m as fine and dandy as any old bloke who’s gone through a divorce with a woman not even willing or wanting to fight for the marriage, who also happened to be cheating during said marriage, and who also happened to do said cheating with an estranged and quite bumbling brother. And, as we are all for cherries on tops here in this house, I’ll add to boot I have not been enjoying any food at all as of late. A travesty, mind you, and far worse than the never-ending torrent of what-ifs playing through my head mixed with never-lessening nightmares of said cheater and bumbling cheater’s brother possibly fucking in the very bed I sleep in.”

You gawked at him. Barely a breath had been drawn while he’d laid it all out in one quick string of words. Alright, that had not quite been the way you’d imagined the conversation would go — Sinclair was honest and straight to the point at most times but regarding this, you hadn’t quite expected him to lay it all out so fully. “Okay, and what can I do to help?” you asked, not knowing what else to say. “Absolutely nothing. However, you made some very big statements standing in the remnants of my dishwasher’s uproar and those I wouldn’t mind getting clarifications on.”

Neither of you had touched your teas or the treats laid out, and now your stomach was too twisted up to even use the stuff as a way of pausing the conversation. But you had said some really honest things and you did stand by what you said even if said statements had been stated in a bit too much of a rush and with far too little thought dedicated to what would happen once you spilled the beans. You had thought about it over the past years several times but now, in the actual aftermath, all those thoughts didn’t come to you.

“Facts?” you asked quietly, spinning the teacup a little back and forth on the table by its ear. “Always facts.” You drew a deep breath. “Well, might as well…” you said to yourself before straightening and looking right at the man you found to be the most beautiful in all of the world. Despite the missing mirth, the lack of glow in his eyes and the less shiny hair along with the more hunched shoulder. He was still the most beautiful, but he lacked the lustre that was him. You gritted your teeth for a second as you truly took him in. That fucking bitch, I swear, if I find myself face to face with her my fist will do the talking rather than my mouth. Both perhaps — neither of them will be pleasant though.

But, despite the hate that sizzled in you, no words ever came about it. You couldn’t quite find the words to tell the facts either at first. Sinclair waited, oddly patient for the time being while your thoughts spun and you got tongue-tied while you tried to relax your body from the sudden rage at the thought of the woman who’d hurt him so badly.

“Out with it, Y/n,” he urged. “You can’t just tell me all those things in there and then not elaborate.” You sighed, feeling both uncomfortable and as if you’d put yourself in a sticky spot. “I know…” “Then elaborate, tell me, because I’m not sure what to do with myself if you’re sitting here not willing to speak again because it was lies—” “What? No!” Your heart jolted in your chest. “No, no it wasn’t lies, I just— Ugh, I’m not good with words. You know that. I don’t talk much.” “You listen well but talking is required when having a conversation, and you agreed to a conversation over a cup of tea in dry clothes. With all conditions met of the agreement I need you to just lay it out for me. People are already avoiding me, and walking on eggshells ever since the news broke and the gossipers got hold of some of the information…”

You wrapped your hands around the warm cup, your entire body tensing. “I hated her.” “Yes, I understood that.” “And I would never do or say anything that could jeopardize your happiness, and even if I hated her, and hated you two together, I couldn’t say anything ‘cus you looked happy with her. Your happiness is the most important.” “Hate?” “Yes.” Sinclair blew a raspberry, sinking down in his chair further. “Well, I never would have guessed it was that bad. She even liked you, didn’t she?” “No, Natalie only tolerated all of us because you made us all gather all the time. She was never nice to me, you know. Not that that matters, there was just something about her I hated. A sense of her being false, fake. I hate fake people.”

Sinclair looked at you, his brows scrunched in confusion. “Yet, you’ve never said anything about how you feel? Isn’t that false of you, then?” “Pfth, no, I never said how I feel out of respect. I never did anything regarding how I feel, or what I’ve thought because of the whole situation at large. I knew I was only ever your friend, the married man’s friend who happens to be good at listening, that’s all.” Sinclair nodded. “True. I never would have guessed…” “Obviously, you’re also way too good for me so even if you’d been single and all that jazz, I still hadn’t done anything about it.” “So, why tell me now?”

How were you to tell him the truth about that? Was it best to come right out and say it, or would it be better with some omissions? Not lies, but omissions? “I can see the wheels turning. Just, tell me the truth,” he said and there was a tired sweetness to his voice you had never heard before. “Truth?” “Yes, truth.” “All of it?” “How much of it can there be?”

You dove in, finally finding your voice and words. You talked for several minutes about how you hated seeing him with someone who didn’t appreciate him, how you hated the effect she’d had on him and what the divorce had done to him. You spoke at length about all the little details - from her altering her hair to fit in with the crowd to the mismatched behaviours of the two and all the way down to the missing commonalities between them.

“…and she doesn’t even like reading whereas you never stop. I remember her lamenting about you reading in bed after sex—” his eyes widened and his face turned whiter “—and I’m fully aware I wasn’t meant to hear about that but she didn’t hear me come in when she was on the phone and I caught the end of the conversation.” Sinclair looked ashen. “You have quite a lot in that head of yours.” “I listen, I hear, I look and I remember stuff. I don’t need to talk or be noticed by others to take in information, you know.” “Fair enough. But, I don’t believe anyone could be in a room with you and not notice you’re there.” “Ha! Sure, Sinclair, sure. You never noticed.” “I noticed… It wasn’t my place to notice, given being in love and married but I noticed. Quite a fault in my personality to notice things, really. Just looking around a room gives me too much to notice in every manner.”

You drew a steadying breath, feeling both relieved and crushed at the same time. “Yeah, you notice everything, except the obvious things — apparently.” “Well, some things you don’t want to notice. And if you don’t know there’s something there to notice then how are you supposed to notice it? It’s like playing hide and seek without letting the seeker know to look for the hiders.” “Well, perhaps it’s better not to notice sometime.” “In this instance, not particularly. Perhaps I wouldn’t have been taken off guard by a Trojan horse freely welcomed in my own home had I noticed things. Who knows. One can never be sure.”

You weren’t really sure exactly what you were talking about anymore but the way he looked at you had your palms heating and your cheeks burning. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Obviously, you’re still mourning the bitch— sorry, the relationship and life you guys had together given how you’re acting.” “No, no, you said it at just the right time. I stopped mourning months ago, this is something else.”

You straightened, blinking and tilting your head. “Something else?” “You’re very good at hiding things. I never would have guessed you wanted anything more than a polite friendship with me. You never gave even one hint.” “It was never a good time. When was I supposed to say to you that I had feelings for you?” “Had? As in past tense?” You stiffened. “Well… No… Present…” You shook your head. “Not that it matters. I’ll be your friend as long as you need. Obviously, your lack of an appetite and the fact the homemade cookies are still here is more than a sign you’re not in the right state of mind.” “Right state of mind?” “Well, yes. You’re obviously in some kind of depressive episode and I’ll help you and support you and be your friend until you get out of it.” Why am I saying this? I don’t want that, and I can’t stay his friend for an eternity, I’d end up dying a lonely woman with ten cats eating my corpse…

“What if I don’t want you as a friend?” His words had your throat closing up, your heart turned into a stampeding horse in your chest and the world suddenly seemed icy. “W-what?” you asked, not sure how the conversation got so turned about and flipped on its end. “What if I don’t want you as a friend, what then?” What then? What the fuck do you mean?!

You gulped a breath down. “That’s your choice…” “It’s a mutual choice, isn’t it?” “What? No, if you don’t want to be friends with me any longer we’ll go our separate ways like perfectly mature adults—” “Y/n, you’re not hearing me. For once, I might add, you’re quite bad at listening to me.”

He stood while I gaped at him. Never had I been accused of being a bad listener. It was one of very few things I was actually very good at, Sinclair even said so himself in the kitchen before — didn’t he? I had no time to think more about it as he walked up and crouched before me. “Can you hear me better from this distance?” “I— Sinclair, I could hear you just fine before.” He arched a brow at me, smiling softly. “Apparently, you couldn’t. Or maybe I wasn’t expressing myself well enough. Communication goes both ways as many studies have shown. If one part of the communication circle fails then the whole thing breaks down and the communication turns to dust. Not unlike how arguments often go, well, it certainly starts arguments when communication fails — no matter in what part of the circle the fault lies.”

You looked down at him, seeing his golden hair and the handsome features of his face so close again had your heart in a twist. And, right now, you didn’t know if that was a good twist or a bad one. “What are you saying?” He chuckled, the sweet sound music to your ears as it had been so long. “I am trying to say I do not want to be friends, I want to be more. Through this whole mess, the one constant thing has been you, even before this mess, you were a certain constant. I couldn’t allow myself to think anything more of it before, I was married and in love so there really couldn’t be anything more to it. Now, well, perhaps there is something to the whole love makes you blind saying. There has to be a reason it has stayed alive and remained accurate for centuries, no? Something has to be said for it. In this instant, I’d say the belief of being in love had me blind to love.”

You gaped at him. Through his whole monologue, you’d barely been able to breathe — despite loving his usual chatty personality reappearing this time you wished he had just gotten to the point so you could make your heart stop racing and possibly prevent a heart attack. “Are you saying… you’re in love with me?” His eyes softened. “I should speak plainly for once. Sorry, darling. Yes, I’m in love with you.” You stiffened, your mind not believing what your ears were hearing. “In love with me?” “Yes.” “But, I’m in love with you.” He chuckled. “Yes, rather fantastic coincidence — even if I don’t believe in coincidences. Studies have shown—” To hell with studies! Without thinking for another second, you leaned in, took his warm face in your hands, and kissed him harshly. His thin lips were stiff against yours for a heartbeat and then his hands landed on your thighs and he kissed you back. The world fell away and your shoulders relaxed as the sweet taste of him invaded your mouth. Kissing him was all you had dreamt it would be and more.

His tongue dipped out, your lips parted, and the kiss deepened. Your mind turned blank, zeroing in on him and him alone as his hands squeezed your thighs and slid upwards in intervals. They were warm and gentle — nearly careful. “Sinclair,” you moaned into his mouth. “Are you sure?” you continued as your lips parted and your eyes locked. “As sure as I’ve ever been.”

His fingers grasped the back of your neck a moment later, squeezing softly before rubbing back and forth. “You have been on my mind for a long time,” he said. “Now, hearing you feel for me as I feel for you, there is no reason to be patient or linger in the past. History may be written inaccurately by the winners of it, twisting facts and glorifying the wrongful ones at times. But, right now, I feel like one of those winners and I want to make the future wonderful with you so our history is gloriously accurately beautiful.” You bit your lip, holding back tears at his endearing words. “I want that, too.”

He kissed you again, diving in in desperation with a deep groan seeping into you from him as your hands roamed and his caressed in tune with his tongue. There were too many clothes, too little time, and far too much stumbling about happening as you clung to each other while moving through the house until you reached the stairs.

He paused, kissing you softly on the lips. “As delicious as the finest of desserts,” he whispered before grabbing your hand and walking up the stairs with you behind him — stumbling on unsteady legs while his gentle hold of your hand kept you from falling in the midst of desperation and warmth taking over your body.

How on earth you ended up here, thanks to a dishwasher breaking, you weren’t quite sure but you were certain that speaking the truth and opening up was part of it. For so long, you had remained silent — remained a supportive friend, a quiet listener, a treat-giving one — now you had spoken up and the world seemed to align with your wish for the first time in as long as you could remember.

Sinclair squeezed your hand, his thumb rubbing along your knuckles as you rushed to the bedroom. Your step faltered, seeing the large bed with beige bedding and white pillows had your stomach knotting. She slept in that, and he fucked her here, and kissed her, and held her, and read after— you couldn’t finish the thought.

“Sweet-treat?” Sinclair asked as you stood stock-still just inside the door frame. “New sheets?” you asked, your voice quiet but your eyes glaring at the beautiful bed. “New sheets, new mattress, new pillows, new covers, new everything but frame,” he said in a rush and you drew a breath of relief even if it technically still was the same bed. “I couldn’t sleep in it not knowing if they had…” he trailed off. You nodded. “Yeah…”

The silence stretched for a moment as you both looked at each other. It was odd, being in silence with Sinclair. “Let’s wipe history clean like the winners tend to do,” you whispered and stepped toward him. His shoulder softened. “Please,” he replied quietly and the sweetness in his eyes, the soft smile tugging his lips up, and the gentle way his lips met yours had you swooning.

The tempo picked up, hands roamed, lips kissed, tongues danced and the world fell away around you both. “Off,” you said in an exhale while tugging at his shirt. “Off,” he replied while gliding his hands down your sides, tugging at the fabric of your outfit. Then you both stripped in a rush, there was no time for gentle undressing or seductive stripping when your body burned for his and his eyes shined with want for you.

Crashing into bed, you tumbled around, uncoordinated and inexperienced with each other’s bodies. He licked at your peaked nipples while your hands caressed his shoulders. Your hair got tangled and his dishevelled in a glorious golden heap you had to run your hands through that very instant. “Mmmmh,” he hummed as your nails scratched lightly against his scalp. His mouth latched on around your nipples as he nestled himself between your thighs. The warmth of his body was a wonder to feel. You moaned before panting his name. “Sinclair, Clair, oh,” you mewled as he suckled and kissed. “Gorgeous,” he whispered before kissing his way from one breast to the other as your back arched.

His hand glided down your side before squeezing your thigh softly. “You are absolutely stunning,” he murmured before kissing his way up your neck in a rush only to captivate you with a look of pure want as he rose above you. “I want you,” you said. “Please,” you continued as you reached down and folded your hand around his straining cock before pumping him in a measured rhythm. He groaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as his lips parted on a deep exhale.

You hardened your hand, swiping your thump over his tip where pre-cum had formed. A moan escaped you as he sunk a bit and you could pump his cock while the tip of him stroked your clit — the sensation overwhelming and arousing while not being nearly enough as you burned for him to touch you everywhere.

He dove in, kissing and nipping at your throat, your lips, your cheek and your earlobe. His motions were soft — caressing — yet still fervent and hasty. “I want you, I want you to fill me,” you panted while holding back a whimper as your core contracted around nothing. “Yes,” he panted, groaning in tune with your moans.

He reached down and you lost contact with his cock as he rose a bit between your legs but before a whimper could leave you his fingers stroked your clit and then down. You panted and his fingers dove inside, two from the very start as you were warm and tender for him — yet he asked if it felt good, your moans and nods all the answer you were able to give.

He pumped your cunt, gentle and measured strokes slowly turning more hasty as his hips began to buck and you had to release his cock as he rocked back. “I need you, god, I need you,” he groaned before removing his fingers and grabbing his cock. Before he pushed himself in he hooked you with his eyes. “Clair?” you asked, nearly thrashing beneath him with the tip of his cock right at your entrance and the glorious view of him between your naked thighs everything you had ever dreamt of it to be. “I want you,” he murmured through his ragged breathing. “Tell me you want me to, tell me if you want me to stop, tell me if—” You whimpered. “Please, please just fuck me like I’ve wished for years.”

He needed no more from you than that, it seemed. He pushed forward, stretching you wide as he slowly filled the void you had been clenching around for far too long. “Oh fuck,” you hissed in pleasure while arching your back and pushing your head into the pillow below. You wrapped your legs around him as he leaned forward with a deep moan of pleasure as his hands planted themselves on each side of your head and you got the most spectacular view of his face. The scrunched brows, the parted lips, the slight tilting of his head exposing his neck as he took you all the way — pushing his way to the hilt and filling you completely.

He kept close to you, his hips doing short and quick pumps as he groaned deeply. “You’re perfect,” he murmured as he began picking up speed and your core clenched around him as he pulled further out. “Haaa—!” You whimpered and grabbed at his biceps. “Sinclair, yes, oh yes!” It was all you had ever dreamt of, all you had longed for, and as he leaned forward to hold you close while his hips rocked you back and forth under him you felt as if you’d gone to heaven.

He groaned, holding you tight while angling his hips to take you harder, deeper — how the fuck that was possible you had no idea but by heaven it was amazing. “So good, so so so good,” he purred deeply. “I want to eat you up, lick every inch of you, devour you like the full meal of deliciousness you are, sweet-treat,” he said through moans and groans as he picked up the pace further — rocking the entire bed. “My darling, my Y/n,” he purred before panting wildly.

You were on fire beneath him, holding on to his back while squeezing his hips with your thighs. His pelvis hit your clit as he rocked forward and upwards — pushing you up the bed while deriving a moaned cry from you. “Clair,” you cried out. “I’m— Haaaa!” you stiffened as your core tightened while he kept pummelling you, switching angles and pace in intervals while you both turned warm and misty with sweat. The sweat smell filled your nostrils while the sounds of your bodies joining and the shared pleasure filled the room.

He picked up the pace and you cried out for him. “Yes, yes, oh, fuck,” he groaned through clenched teeth. “So good, you’re so good, so perfect, so perfect,” he murmured as you writhed beneath him, reaching for your peak but holding on for him. “I need— Fuck, Sinclair, please,” you whimpered and he gritted his teeth before slamming his lips against yours while still managing to keep the pace as he took you to heaven.

You stiffened, he groaned into your mouth, and his pace turned into a crazed one. “I’m coming, god, yes, please, yes!” you cried out as an explosion erupted within you, shaking every limb and shooting pulses of pleasure through every fibre. “Hnnnng— Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck!” he groaned as he stilled while you trembled around him and he pulsed inside you. A deep moan vibrated through his chest and into yours as you held on to him and kissed his shoulder sloppily while your high slowly diminished and his body relaxed further atop you.

You were a mess of sweaty body parts and heaving breaths, but what truly had irrevocably been changed was your heart. You kissed everywhere you could reach as he regained his composure and slipped out of you with a slight squelching sound. Hot fluid leaked down your seem only to pool beneath you on the sheets.

Sinclair leaned up, watching you intently with soft eyes and a relaxed face. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Alright?” You scoffed with a smile. “I’m wonderful, darling. Wonderful,” you said quietly as the warmth inside of you softened every part of your body and mind. “As am I, my sweet-treat.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “Now, let’s clean up and have those cookies downstairs. I feel my appetite returning with a vengeance,” he said with a smile so warm and indulgent you could barely keep yourself from bursting into tears at seeing the Sinclair you knew so well...

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: We got some smut, some fluffy and sweet and warm smut 😍👏 I hope you enjoyed the second part of Sinclair’s fic - my first story about him ever 👀🙈 I don’t know if I’ll write more for him in the future, we’ll see how that goes but this was fun to try! IT certainly warmed me up while sitting here with my double layers of clothes and thick slippers along with a blanket wrapped all around me 😂👌

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @dontwanttobeanamercanidiot @sunnylikesfrogs @dianilaws @snapesno1thighrider @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @cherihan @poetry-and-tea @evans23 @mamawolfsmith87 @snapesrn @severussimp @slyckman @liv2post @clawsthecactus @goldenglowwoman @ankhmutes @lessdepressy @snapesrn @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @daddythanatos @sanji-simp

Want to be tagged? You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you!

#rickmas2024 #rickmas #christmas fanfic #sinclair x reader #sinclair bryant #close my eyes #sinclair bryant fic #christmas fic #smut #sinclair x female reader #natalie slander

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neill-san · 1 year ago

Text

Intercrural

Diavolo x Male!Reader

TAGS: Male Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Intercrural Sex, Thighs, Frottage - kind of, Submissive Top Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mentioned Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), thigh fucking, Explicit Sexual Content

Not proofread

-18+ content under the cut-

Diavolo was the fiercest demon in the whole of the Devildom, he wouldn't be the prince otherwise. As the only present royal of the kingdom, all responsibilities of ruling it fell to him, but he wasn't alone in his duties. His future steward Barbatos was always there to lend a hand and speaking of hands, he had his right-hand man Lucifer, working hard at his side.

Diavolo, due to growing up as a royal, was deprived of many aspects of childhood that the common people experienced. He yearned for that easy freedom, outside the palace walls. The restrictiveness of royal life was suffocating, but that's where the exchange student came in. Diavolo's newest obsession.

The exchange program had been to improve relations between the three realms, but it had also been to satiate his obsession with humans. It accomplished... the opposite, with his obsession focusing on the human that now roamed the Devildom. This very peculiar mortal that tamed the seven lords of hell and captured the heart of the future king of hell, himself.

The day had started off normally enough, considering you lived in quite a rambunctious house, even early in the mornings. you had gone to school, chatted with your classmates and passing schoolmates, and then you'd gone home. Home to the House Of Lamentation, not the castle much to Diavolo's chagrin. It was later in the evening that you'd been abruptly invited to the castle. The sudden message disrupted your time spent with the brothers, but you weren't upset. The same couldn't be said for the brothers whose time with their object of affection was being cut short.

"Ya could go the castle tomorrow!" Cried Mammon, clearly upset, "It's late, ain't no reason ya should go out there at this hour!"

Levi nodded, face crestfallen at hearing that you were going to leave them to go to the castle. "You should stay here, whatever it is, isn't important enough to risk your safety by going out right now."

"Yeah! If it's so important then Lucifer can take care of it! No need for you to go!" Mammon whined, clinging to your waist from where you sat on the couch in the living room.

Beezlebub had a sad little frown on his face, and crumbs littered his rosy lips making them look all the more endearing. He didn't want you to go either, but he wouldn't stop you if you wanted to spend time in the castle. They got to see you every day after all.

"You guys get to see me every day. It's only fair to spend time with the others as well." you deadpanned, pealing off Mammon's hands, "We can hang out tomorrow, there are no classes."

Beel brightened up at the prospect of spending the weekend together. Levi grumbled but remained quiet, and Mammon huffed, clearly still upset but settled at the offer. You took a look at your boys and shook your head, an exasperated but fond smile spreading on your lips. With a final hug to the pouting demons, You got up and left for your room to change. You sent Lucifer a quick message that you were headed off to the castle on your way out of the house. The walk to the royal castle was uneventful, but you enjoyed the quiet, a rare occurrence. The moon shone high in the sky, and the whole of the Devildom shone dimly in its embrace.

You walked into the castle as though you lived there, with an easy familiarity that had Diavolo's heart clenching in yearning. The prince stood at the top of the staircase, quickly making his way down to greet his honored guest, having already received their message of acceptance.

"Dia, how are you?" you smiled, letting the prince pull you into his embrace.

"I'm quite alright, and- Erm.." Diavolo hesitated, "I apologize for the abrupt invitation. I half-expected you to decline."

you smiled teasingly, mirth visible in your features, "And why's that?"

You knew exactly why.

Diavolo buried his face in the crook of your neck to hide the rosy hue that dusted his cheeks, "I still have a bit of work left to do, but I was bored and... I wanted to see you."

"I can join you in your office, I don't mind," you offered, pulling away from his warmth to look him in the eyes, quite bold for a human.

Diavolo smiled and nodded, placing one of his large hands against your lower back as you both walked.

---

"When you said you would wait for me in my office, this wasn't what I had imagined," Diavolo admitted, his grip on his fountain pen harsher than necessary.

You smiled from where you were seated on the prince's lap. Your skimpy little shorts covered almost nothing, and your plush ass was pressed firmly against the prince's groin.

"Think of it as an extra incentive to get your work done," you teased, "I'm all yours to do with as you please once you're done."

Diavolo squirmed, his throbbing cock pressed against your voluptuous rear. You smirked, fully aware of the prince's pent-up need and using it to your full advantage. Diavolo felt more distracted than he'd like to admit, desperate to free his weeping cock from its tight confines and bury himself in your warmth. A wicked idea crossed Your mind, and you reached over to grab one of the cookies on the plate Barbatos had left you two with, an elegant tea set situated next to the plate. You popped the sweet into your mouth and took a sip of your tea, a fragrant blend that soothed the tastebuds. Putting your idea into action, You turned slightly to unzip the prince's pants, his red coat having been unbuttoned a while ago. The redhead jolted, his cheeks matching the color of his fiery hair.

"M-MC, what-" He began, cutting himself off halfway with a gasp. your hand grabbed Diavolo's impressive length, one hand being insufficient to wrap around the whole thing. You sat back down, the hot throbbing cock placed in between your thighs.

"Don't get distracted Dia, you still have a handful of documents to look over," You drawled, your tone was as though you were discussing the weather and nothing was amiss.

Diavolo's cock twitched at the sudden arousal that filled him at his beloved's bold actions. The redhead did his best to focus on his paperwork, such a valiant effort. You ignored him in favor of teasing his cock, leaning down to spit onto the leaking tip. your hands wrapped around the fat pudgy head, spreading it's fluids all around the large length, using the new slickness to coat your thighs in preparation. Diavolo threw his head back with a groan and you chuckled, tightening your thighs around the prince's cock and lifting them up to let them drop back down.

"Dia~, you're getting distracted. At this pace, you'll never finish," You smiled, setting a brutally slow pace with your thighs.

Diavolo's hips hitched forward, and desperation mounted in him. A desperate wish to use the pocket you made between your thighs. Your plush thighs encased his fat cock, the slick friction almost had Diavolo in tears. This was cruel and Diavolo adored it. How could he focus on his paperwork when you fucked his cock with your thighs so sweetly? Your hands coming down to tease the blunt weeping head. All pretense of finishing his work was abandoned, and Diavolo leaned down to press his forehead against your shoulder, panting and moaning against your upper back. His large hands came to grip MC's hips to steady them as he began to thrust forward in earnest. You ignored your own throbbing length in favor of servicing your royal lover, your grip tight on the prince's cock, moving both of you in tandem with his thrusts. Diavolo pressed little kisses on your clothed shoulder, his grip tightening on your hips as his climax neared. His thrusts were erratic, frenzied in his need to cum.

The demon prince bit down on his beloved's clothed shoulder as he came. Hot seed spurted from his cock, covering your hands and coating your thighs. You brought your hands up to your face, licking off the excess cum off your hands, the sheer amount was obscene, and Diavolo groaned watching you. The prince's cock was still hard despite having just climaxed.

You looked down at Diavolo's desk with a frown, and shook your head,

"Dia, you still have work to do."

Hope you all enjoyed! :3

#obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x male reader #obey me diavolo x MC #obey me smut #obey me Diavolo x reader smut #thigh fucking #reader has a fat ass #and a cock

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months ago

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i'm glad i get forever to see where you end

for @messessentialist's birthday. i already said it all on ao3, but i love you biiiiitch. happy birthday, kissin you on the lips with tongue, cuddling you while we steal cool rocks from national parks (allegedly).

rated e | 14,135 words | cw: minor character deaths offscreen, brief discussion of grief and mourning, alcohol | check ao3 for all tags