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i-like-sparkly-things · 3 years ago

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Beautiful?

A Halstead!Sister

'But they don't know. They don't know what it's like to be you. They didn't know what it was like to wake up everyday, to a body you never asked for.

A body nobody wanted.'

Warnings : eating disorder, body insecurities, body dismorphia

Requested : Yup, by anon , 'could u do a fic where she has an eating disorder? and doesn’t tell jay but then one day she passes out at school and has to tell him?'

Word count : 1.7k

Note : this took too long I don't know why 😭but yall Guess who's thankful that yall bear with my English ? me. :) and ps this is my first request!! And yall please please know that all of you are so freaking beautiful and worth fighting for. Know that you are loved and it is never, ever weak to ask for help.

**************************

The constant pain and sleepless nights were paying off. Your eyes sparkled when you saw your new numbers. It was working.

You took your diary, crossing out breakfast on the to do list after eating a banana.

This was going to be simple. check what you eat, check your weight and repeat . You knew that if you tried really hard, you would be the one in control.

Control. That's all you wanted. Such an easy, yet painful thing.

You looked to the mirror, as your hands hovered over your ribs sticking to the skin . You'd never felt so beautiful in your life. But your eyes roamed down to your thighs. The flesh of your legs were touching. It wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

'' Y/n , come on ! Move your ass! I need to get to work!! '' Jay shouted for you, from downstairs.

'' Shut uppp I'm comingg'', you yelled back.

Ever since your mom had died, dad always kept to himself leading you to stay with your brothers. It had become a routine. Jay would drop you off at school and Annie's mom would give you a ride home.

Lucky for you , Jay was constantly busy with cases. He hadn't noticed your new diet or the mood swings.

**************************

Your teacher had started the lesson. And slowly you sensed something wrong. Your head was pounding. God why is she so blurry? You look to Anne sitting next to you and she's Blurry too. You felt your body giving up to the swaying ground.

'' y/n!! '' Annie shreiked as your limp body crashed to the floor.

****************************

'' Chuckles!? '' Trudy called out,climbing the stairs to intelligence. "Do I look like a cocktail waitress to you? Where have you been??"

"Morning to you too, sarge" Jay sighed. "and its detective"

" Well , Detective , Y/n fainted at school and wanted you to pick her up"

"What ?" he asked shocked, aldready beginning to pick up his jacket.

"Sarge" he said, looking to Voight for approval, although he would leave nonetheless. "Go."

*****************************

"Mr. Halstead" the school nurse addressed him, as he entered the clinic.

"Call me jay. Y/n, are you okay? what the hell happened?" he asked you worried.

You had never fainted before and apart from the flu every couple of years, you had a clean bill of health, as far as he knew.

"Jay, I promise I'm fine. Just got a little dizzy, that's all" you answered knowing how overprotective he can get. Now all you could hope for was that he would let this slide.

"I tried getting some food in her but she told me she was fine" the nurse explained to Jay.

God No. the the salad she offered you had so many calories. you had made too much progress nothing was going to stop you especially a simple fainting episode. It was a minor setback but you were sure you could continue your weight loss diet.

" What, WHY? " he questioned, but just as you were thinking of a better reply " You know what, I'm gonna take her home." he interrupted your thoughts as he spoke to the nurse.

" Only if you are sure, you're good"

" I am Jay. One hundred percent." you replied, happy to skip the rest of the school day.

It's not like you've been paying attention any ways. You'd zone out a lot during class and your constant hunger and cramps didn't help either. But you drowned these feelings away with small sips of water and occasional slices of cucumbers.

You Craved the Emptiness. the feeling of being lighter. The feeling of being....... perfect. It was intoxicating.

Taking your school bag, Jay wrapped a study arm around your shoulders , guiding you through the school corridors and towards his truck.

"God, I can't wait to go to bed", You said climbing the truck and fastening your seat belt.

"Yeah right. I'm taking you to med" he stated. "WHAT? Jay, what the hell ? I told you, I'm fine!!"

You knew Will was working and didn't want either of your brothers to know about your new diet or how much weight you had lost. It was too late to quit. The disgusting image in the mirror was slowly getting better..... getting thinner, prettier.

"You've never fainted before Y/n, and I promise I'll get Will to run the exams and do all the tests" he assured you.

****************************

"Y/n, I thought I told you I never wanted to see you here again.", Maggie greeted, pointing a finger at you.

"Awwww but I missed you", you pouted, " No don't do that. your brother's waiting in treatment room 3 so you better get going." she instructed and you dropped your school bag near the nurses station.

You and Jay enter the room, to a very worried Will. "Y/n, what happened?" he asked , gesturing you to sit on the bed.

"did you hit your head when you fell? Did you fall in the bathroom or something like that?", he continued, not giving you time to answer.

"what did the nurses say? are you stressed about school?" " Will-", you interrupted his rambling " I'm fine, just..... got a little dizzy."

You watched , as he took his pen light to your eyes. "Ah! Will, stop!!" You said, trying and failing to refrain him.

"You know, it'll be easier if you stop squirming" Jay commented with a smug smile. "Your not going anywhere"

"Shut up" you groaned.

You need to get out of here. What if they gave you food. What if they found out you were hungry all the time. They'd never stop making fun of you. They'd tell you that you were overreacting and that all this was so unnecessary.

But they didn't know. They didn't know what it was like to be you. They didn't have floppy arms or fleshy thighs. They didn't know what it was like to wake up everyday, to a body you never asked for. A body nobody wanted.

******************************

"Jay" Will called out, seeing him outside your room. It had been a couple of hours since you were bought in.

Will had ordered some tests, being the ass he was.

Wonderful. You just hoped that all the tests would be normal and you could get the hell out of there.

"yeah man? just needed to text Hailey, Why, what's wrong?" Jay asked, studying the worried expression on his brother's face

"It's Y/n. "

***************************

You were fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt when your brother's walked in, staring at you, as if you were a ghost.

"Y/n," Jay croaked out his voice laced with dread, "how long?"

No. No. No. This can't be happening. God, you knew that they were going to hate you forever.

"what the are you talking about?" you needed to try to get them to back away."Is something wrong?"

They were standing on either side of your bed. Jay came closer and sat down on your right the beside your knees, eyes never leaving yours.

"Your tests-" Will started, "They came back showing you have severe deficiencies. That your body is struggling to survive. That it's not getting enough food." he broke away from your gaze.

"We um-" Jay, as if almost on queue, continued."We looked through your school bag and found your diary. "

You sucked in a sharp breath and shook your head. No. He knew. They knew.

All your calorie counts, the amount of calories you can have in a day, your research on diets, workouts, to do lists, hell, even your Period Tracker was written down. (although you barely had it anymore)

That book was the reason you were finally becoming happy with yourself. Your body.

'I'm sorry', you mouthed "I'm so, so sorry" This was it. Your voice hitched, as tears flowed down your cheeks. "I was finally happy"

In an instant, your brothers were by your side.

Jay engulfed you into his chest, your words circling his mind. 'Finally?' God, you lived together! You were his sister! His baby sister! How could he have let this happen to you? How could he not have noticed that you were drowning? That you were starving yourself. What kind of brother was he?

Will rubbed your back, until your sobs became quieter. He was a doctor. A damn doctor! God knows how long this has been going on, but at the end of the day.... he failed. He failed to be there,..... when you needed him.

"Y/n, you don't have to do this. You're beautiful Y/n. You really are. And I'm sorry that anyone else has convinced in otherwise" Jay breathed out, hoping you heard him, in his embrace.

"It felt good, Jay" your voice was muffled by his shirt, but to your brothers, your voice was loud and clear.

"Did it?" You turned to Will, "Did the hunger feel good?" his heart broke saying the words out loud.

'Yes', you wanted to answer. Of course it felt good. You were getting so many compliments from your friends at school. Boys started acknowledging you now.

It was like you finally existed. You felt...... worthy.

But with all the strength you could muster up, you couldn't get the words out. Because there was always one voice that told you to quit. The voice you'd been drowning out for so long. The voice that told you, that you were in fact, beautiful.

Your mother's.

"No" you said, realizing that Will had tears in his eyes as well.

But you couldn't find a hint of shame in them, no matter how much you searched. Instead, you were met with the immense worry and guilt of your brother.

"We can help, Y/n" Will said, as he took your hand in his, "We will help and we'll be there every step of the way."

"Every step" Jay assured and you turned to him. "All you need to do, is let us in"

You weren't prepared for this. You had no idea what to say.

You didn't want to feel tired all the time, always craving for food. But the idea of going back - back to all that shame - that's what scared you.

"Y/n," Will spoke up, seeing as you were struggling to answer, "I promise you, we are going to make you feel better...... and we'll fight those thoughts of yours together."

You took a shaky breath.

Thoughts.

Your thoughts.

You had let them consume you for a long time now. Too long. maybe..... Maybe the right voice to follow, was your mothers'. "okay-" you sobbed, "okay", and once again you found yourself in Jay's arms.

You, clinging to him like your life depended on it and him holding you tight, because it did. His hand rested on your head, tangled with your hair.

Will saw a tear make its way down his brothers cheek, something he hasn't witnessed often.

Your brothers sat silently, listening to you cry. Taking in the conversation, only having a glimpse of the pain you were in.

You had a long, long road ahead but as you sat in your brother arms, you felt a sense of peace, comfort maybe.

******************************

Masterlist

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queen-haq · 3 years ago

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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 10

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10

Hot on your trails, Billy followed you to the women’s bathroom. When the bathroom attendant chastised him for barging in there, he shot her an irritated glance. “You want to help her puke?” Billy asked pointedly as you ran to the toilet. The attendant put her hands up in the air and moved back, leaving him to take care of you. He pulled your hair back, holding the strands away from your face while you retched.

You groaned, sounding like you were dying.

“I know. It sucks. Just let it out. You’ll feel better,” he consoled, rubbing your back.

“Didn’t… even…drink… so… much… want… to… die…”

He chuckled.

“I’m sorry… don’t want you to see me like this…”

“I’ve seen worse,” Billy assured. Serving as long as he had with the guys from his unit, puke was nothing new to him. He flushed the toilet using his foot after you’d finally stopped gagging. After he helped you to the sink and you washed your face and hands thoroughly, he patted your face dry with napkins. There were a bunch of supplies on one corner of the table. Spotting the mouthwash, Billy picked up the bottle, handing the attendant a $50 bill, and brought it to you. You rinsed your mouth while he studied your reflection in the mirror. “You okay?”

You nodded your head ‘yes’, almost like a child. You were usually so calm and collected around him that it was strange to see you ruffled like this. Actually, it was adorable.

When he saw you close your eyes, he snaked his hand around your waist in case you lost your balance again.

“I want to go home,” you mumbled, turning around in his arms.

“I’ll take you.”

Your eyes were wet and glassy, filled with sleep. You gazed up at him with the dopiest expression on your face and if you hadn’t just puked, he would have kissed you. He was used to feeling all kinds of emotions when it came to you, lust, anger, frustration and so much more, but this was the first time he felt a pang of tenderness towards you and he didn’t know what to make of it. This wasn’t something he was familiar with at all.

“I have to tell Davina. She’ll worry.”

Smoothing your hair, he tucked in a loose strand behind your ear. “Want to go say bye?”

You nodded your head.

Billy held you in his arms as he led you back upstairs to the club, stopping at one of the bars to grab water for you. He spotted Davina sitting at the booth, talking to some guy, but she stood up immediately when she caught sight of him and you. Billy noted the immediate disapproval on her face. Frankly he didn’t give a fuck about what your friends thought of him but he knew how close you were to Davina. Her opinion mattered to you, and so he had to play nice and learn to get along with her.

Davina stood up and met Billy and you halfway, her eyes full of concern. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I think I’m done,” you sighed. “I want to go home.”

“I’ll go with you,” Davina offered. “Let me just grab Kiran from the dance floor-”

“No, you stay. Have fun with your cute guy.”

Billy scowled. Apparently you weren’t so drunk that you didn’t notice other guys. “I’ll take her home,” he said, tightening his grip around your waist.

Davina cast him a suspicious glance before shifting his attention back to you. “You don’t have to go with him. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m not going to rape her when she’s asleep if that’s what you’re worried about,” he snapped, trying - and failing - to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“He won’t, he’s not like that,” you assured, shaking your head vigorously.

So you were angry enough to block him but at least you still trusted him. That was something, he supposed. “Can I take her home now? Or are we gonna keep discussing if I’m a rapist?”

You turned to look up at him, your intoxicated eyes pleading with him. “Can we leave?”

Davina grabbed his elbow, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Don’t you dare touch her when she’s wasted!”

“I won’t. Unless she begs me to,” he smirked, purposely goading your friend. Even though he had no intention of taking advantage of you when you were hammered, he felt no need to justify his motives or actions to another person. Before Davina pissed him off any further, he started leading you out of the club. You were resting your head on his chest while he retrieved your jacket from coat check. When he wrapped the coat around you, you snuggled into the fabric and moved away from him.

It was freezing cold outside and you started shivering. Immediately he pressed you flush against him to keep you warm. As the two of you walked down the street, his eyes fell on the very high heels you were wearing. “You okay to walk on those? My car is a block away.”

“Do you like my shoes?”

He smiled, indulging you. “They’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Like you!”

“Did you just compare me to your shoes?”

“As if,” you snickered, your voice simultaneously naughty and sweet. “My shoes mean a lot more to me than you.”

“Bitch!” he scoffed.

As you giggled in response, his attention was drawn to the low-cut neckline of your outfit beneath your open coat. God, your tits looked absolutely amazing tonight. He was struck by the memory of the time he’d made you come by simply sucking on your nipples, teasing them with his tongue, and you had spent the entire time moaning underneath him. You fucking loved it almost as much as when he ate you out. Billy gave himself a mental shake, telling himself to snap out of it. “How come you never dress like this when we go out?” he asked, hoping for a distraction.

The smile on your face disappeared, you didn’t say anything. You were quiet, too quiet. He didn’t like it when you were all in your head with your thoughts, shutting yourself off to him. The last time you did that, you stormed out of his life and blocked him. Fuck if he was going to let you do that again. Reaching for your hand, he laced his fingers through yours.

“We never went out. All we ever did was have sex.”

He flashed a cocky smile. “Oh, yeah.” He squeezed your hand. “I miss that.”

“What? Sex?” You sniggered. “It can’t have been that long. When was the last time you slept with someone?”

“A week ago, with you.” He felt your body tense at his answer. “And then you told me to fuck off and stopped taking my calls.” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. “Guess it wasn’t as great for you as it was me.”

You didn’t respond, quiet again, and he didn’t feel like pressing the matter in case you got angry.

Finally reaching his car, he opened it remotely. “Y/N, look at me.” You turned to him, staring up at him all doe-eyed again. “You can’t get sick in my car.” He palmed your face, trying to impress upon you the importance of his words. The Wraith was the first thing he’d bought when he finally started earning enough money and it meant the world to him. Next to Anvil, it was his most treasured possession. “Okay?”

You glanced at the car, exhaling a heavy sigh. “I should call an Uber.”

“No, I’m taking you home. You just can’t puke in my car.”

You turned back to him, frowning. “But I might and I don’t want to ruin it.” You pulled out your phone. “I’ll just call-”

He snatched the phone away from you, sliding it stealthily inside his jacket pocket. “Fine. Don’t worry about it. I can get it cleaned.” He walked to the passenger side and held the door open for you. Seeing how hesitant and worried you appeared, Billy regretted broaching the subject in the first place. “Hey,” he stroked your right cheek. “It’s not a big deal, I swear.” He noticed you swaying on your feet without his support and he moved to help you get in the car, covering the top of your head so you didn’t hit it against the roof.

A few minutes later he’d maneuvered the car out of the parking space and was on his way to your place.

Casting you a side-long glance, he noticed you had removed your jacket, which now lay bunched around your waist, and your head was leaned back against the passenger seat. Your eyes were closed, but he knew you weren’t asleep.

“You keep staring at me,” you finally spoke, turning slightly to look at him.

Billy’s eyes trailed down to your breasts again and he felt that familiar ache in his cock. “Maybe I miss you.”

Your mouth parted slightly, like you were contemplating what to say next. “Liar.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I am lying. I don’t miss your voice, your body, your smell, your laugh.” Maintaining a steady tone, he stared straight ahead. “I don’t miss the taste of your sweet cunt, or the filthy moans out of your mouth when I’m sucking your clit. I don’t miss how good you feel when I’m inside you and you’re begging me to fuck you harder.” Coming to a stop at a red light, he shifted his attention to you. Your breathing was shallow, your piercing gaze locked with his. “I don’t miss how you always razz me, how snarky you are, how you bite your bottom lip when you’re thinking. I hate when you come into a room and put on your charming act, everyone just gravitates towards you like you’re a fucking ray of sunshine or something. I hate how fucking brilliant you are, how smart. Your mind doesn’t fascinate me at all, and I don’t spend any of my fucking time thinking about what’s going on in that brain of yours.”

Billy noticed how you swallowed thickly, how you were squeezing your thighs together. Your skin was flushed, your breaths coming out in shallow spurts.

“I don’t want you. I don’t like you. I don’t miss you,” he murmured, his voice rasp with lust.

His words had the desired effect. You couldn’t take it anymore. Desperate to get off, your hand slipped between your thighs and you started rubbing yourself.

“Take off your fucking pants,” he growled. “I want to see your pussy. Want to see how wet you are.”

“Can’t… one-piece…”

As frustrated as he was at not being able to do what he wanted, he was still mesmerized by what you were doing to yourself. Your quiet moans had grown louder, more desperate. It was heaven watching you come undone. It was also sheer hell because he couldn’t fuck you himself.

As if reading his mind, you shifted closer, your body facing him. His eyes drifted down to your breasts again, barely covered, and he reached out to touch them. His fingers delved beneath the fabric of your top to tweak your nipples, playing with them, caressing them, until they were hardened nubs, ready to be sucked and licked by him. His mouth watered at the sight of your puckered nipples. God, he was so fucking hard.

Then you took his hand and guided it down to your cunt, urging him to play with you. He felt how wet you were through your clothes, you were so fucking turned on. He rubbed your pussy expertly, tapping and teasing your clit, and the guttural moans that were coming from your mouth only aroused him more. With you, even dry humping was hot.

It only took a few more seconds for you to come, and when you did you were all soft murmurs and tender sighs and it took everything he had not to pull you onto his lap and fuck you right then and there.

His hand crept up to your breast, resting over your heart as you slowly returned to the world. When you opened your eyes again to look at him, they were brimming with emotions. “Thank you.”

He smirked. “You’re welcome.”

“I owe you a blow job.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Suck me off because you want to, not because you think you owe me.”

The innocence displayed in your smile completely belied your wicked words. “I like sucking you off.”

His hand reached out to play with your hair. “Good.” He winked at you. “Feel free to start any second now.”

“I’m not blowing you when you’re driving! I want to get home alive.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, pouting.

You simply smirked in response.

Soon, a comfortable quiet fell over the two of you which was an unusual experience for Billy. Years of working recon meant waiting, watching, studying the enemy, the atmosphere charged and tense before chaos struck and the inevitable happened. But this was different. The tension was sexual, the dread non-existent. There was just him and you, and it was perfect.

Your phone buzzed in the inside pocket of his jacket, which made him wonder if the loser you’d been talking to was now calling you. Fucker really had no game if he was calling you so quickly. Eager prick.

“Did you mean it?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“What you said in the club. About killing the guy who was hitting on me.”

Apparently you could read his thoughts now. “Every fucking word.”

You sat up, your eyes fiery and volatile. “You have no right to interfere in my life, Billy.”

“I have every right.”

“How would you feel if I started harassing you about the women you sleep with? What if I went all psycho on them?”

He turned into the parking lot of your building and parked his car at a visitor’s spot. After unbuckling his belt, he turned to you, fisting the back of your head. Your breath hitched in your throat, like you weren’t prepared for his close proximity. “Ask me, Y/N. Ask me how many women I’m fucking.” He waited for you to speak, to ask the question, but, instinctively, he knew you wouldn’t. “You’re not going to ask me, because the truth scares you.”

“Of course it scares me!” you snapped. “I have no idea if you’re using condoms with these other women, if you’re exposing me to god knows what.”

Your defensive tone meant he was getting close to the truth. His fingers started playing with your right ear. “If I’m only fucking you, and I only want you, then you can’t use me as an excuse to run from us anymore. Terrifying, isn’t it?”

Fear flashed across your face, all your emotions on display for him to read.

Billy leaned back and winked at you, smiling smugly. Jackpot.

Part 11

A/N - Thank you so much for your continued support! I hope you guys are still reading and enjoying the fic. As always, thank you for the likes, reblogs, the comments that I cherish so much and your asks/messages. If you’d like to be add/removed from the tag list, please drop me a note.

Tag List:

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Gif Credit: @bilyrusso

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #the punisher

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thesquidkid · 3 years ago

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I was the match and you were the rock

This was supposed to be a very different fic, but Things We Lost In The Fire by Bastille came on, and this was born (also I listened to the song on repeat, so there may be some lyrics scattered around 😂)

It is also quite sad (at least I have tears in my eyes writing it), so I guess sorry? Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it! 😂 (Also on ao3)

Oh and there might be spoilers for the finale? With everything happening with the airstream.

Michael was sitting on the ground, back against his truck, in the middle of the junkyard, looking at his trailer go up in flames. All the people he cared about were besides him, Alex sitting on his right, rubbing his thigh. He had his arm around the other man, the two of them mourning the airstream and all the moments shared.

But more than just memories with Alex, the trailer held Michael’s life for over a decade. He knew the others were sad, but overall they all shared the same sense of joy - Jones was no more a threat. And as much as Michael wanted to celebrate, he also mentally counted how much everything would cost to replace, if he could live with Alex until he found a solution, how many other vehicles had been touched, how deep in debt Sanders Auto would be in.

“Out.” Sanders said, not leaving any place for discussion. He was standing, leaning against Michael’s truck, his leg touching Michael’s shoulder, a comforting presence.

When Michael had fallen to the ground seeing the flames, Sanders had kept standing, head high. But deep down, he was in a similar state to Michael - teary eye(s) and wet cheek(s), calculating the loss of money, the loss of small sentimental value. Because even if there wasn’t much in the airstream, it was all Michael’s, and Sanders had grown used to it being there, was even attached to the poor thing.

This is why he was asking everyone to leave. They didn’t belong in this place, and didn't understand what was truly happening. They wanted to celebrate the win against Jones - as they should - but they didn’t feel the same loss that Michael did.

Michael didn’t even register Sanders’ word, didn’t even hear the cars leaving, his ears still ringing from the explosion. He had gone into the airstream, to try to save anything, but it was too late, most of the inside had burnt down already, the outside shell starting to melt.

I will burn down everything you care about, Jones had said when they defeated him. At first, Michael didn’t understand. Alex was standing next to him, seemingly not on fire, Isobel and Max in a similar state. He even checked in with Sanders, called the old man to make sure he was okay, when the explosion happened. Michael had driven as fast as he could, rushing to the airstream, Alex shouting after him.

He didn’t see Alex running after him, forgetting for a moment that Michael was fireproof. It was only when Alex grabbed Michael’s hand inside the airstream, that Michael registered the dangerousity of Alex being here. Using his powers, he had pushed Alex out of there, but that didn’t stop both of them to still be coughing and Alex’s prosthetic needing to be replaced.

But neither of those things were at the front of Alex’s mind in that instant. Sitting on the ground, his leg in front of him, still hot from the fire, coughing once in a while, his only focus was Michael. Michael was okay, physically. The flames hadn’t burned him, and the coughing had stopped after a while. Emotionally, on the other hand, he knew that Michael was not okay. Even if he couldn’t fully understand how much the airstream meant to Michael, he knew that he was hurting, and wanted nothing more than to be there to comfort his boyfriend.

And so he stayed. When Sanders told the others to go, he looked up to the older man, who was only looking at the flames. He wondered if he should leave the two to be alone, to mourn, to check the damage, but he also knew that he was not going to leave Michael’s side for a few days, especially not after what happened with Jones.

The firefighters came, eventually. By then, nothing could be saved. Luckily, Michael had used his powers to push the remaining cars and various other inflammable objects present in the junkyard to the side.

When the firefighters left, having checked Alex, Michael and Sanders and advising them to go get checked out at the hospital, the three men were alone, the airstream’s creaking cutting through the night.

“You should head home,” Michael whispered to Alex, his eyes never leaving the airstream, “you need to rest your leg, I’ll join you in a bit.” He turned his head to meet Alex, who could see all the desperation, the sadness and the anger present in those golden eyes.

“You’re sure?” Alex asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Michael nodded, turning back to the airstream with a sniff. “We need to check for what can be covered by insurance, and what we’ll lose,” Sanders said with a gruff, turning his back to the airstream for the first time since the explosion.

Michael wiped his cheeks and turned around, facing Alex properly, who was sitting on the bed of the truck. From where he stood, Michael could see the airstream from the corner of his eye, could smell the burnt metal, could hear the cracks. He took Alex’s hands in his, “I’ll be home in a bit,” he said, his voice breaking, “I just need -” he went on in a sobb, dropping his head into Alex’s shoulder, who put his hand to Michael’s hair, in a comforting gesture.

It broke Alex’s heart to see this, to see Michael be so desperate, so lost, in such pain. “You need to make a list of what burned down,” Alex finished, knowing that this was important to Michael, both financially, and sentimentally. Who knew if Sanders Auto would even recover from such havoc. Alex just knew that he would do everything he could so that Michael wasn’t alone.

Michael sniffed into Alex’s shoulder, breaking Alex’s heart a little more, before standing up. He wiped his face with his hand, and breathed deeply, his hands still holding onto Alex’s.

Alex drove back home, putting his leg through one last painful challenge, before taking it off as soon as he sat on his couch, before texting Michael to let him know he had made it safe and sound.

Examining the prosthetic under a proper light, he could see that it was crooked, parts of it having melted in the heat. His stump was bright red and swollen, he made his way to the bathroom and warmed himself a bath, setting an alarm clock to get out of the water.

When the alarm rang, he dried himself and got dressed for bed, each step made with a wince. After taking two painkillers, he made his way to his bed, falling asleep as soon as he was under the covers.

He woke up when he felt a warm body slide next to him under the covers. When he opened his eyes, he saw Michael, curls still wet from the shower he had just taken, eyes still puffy. Alex scooted closer to Michael, wrapping him in his arms. They could talk in the morning, about Jones, about the airstream and the junkyard, but right now, both needed the rest and the comfort of each other.

In the morning, when Michael woke up, he found himself in an empty bed. He got out with a smile, eyes still puffy from the night before, but not crying anymore (not that he had any tears left in the first place), and walked to Alex’s living room, where he could hear some noise.

Getting closer, he could hear Alex on the phone, finishing up a conversation, “Yeah okay, I will, thanks.” He was sitting on the couch, his leg propped up on top of a pillow, the prosthetic off. On the table were laying a jar of cometquiles spread and some flying sauce-cakes, making Michael chuckle, remembering the last time those were on that exact table.

“Arthuro called and asked what you wanted, he heard about -” Alex said, going off at the end, not wanting to say it, but knowing that they needed to talk about it, the explosion.

“How’s your knee?” Michael asked instead, taking a cake and sitting next to Alex, worry clear on his face. The airstream was gone, the damage already caused at the junkyard, he and Sanders had already talked about their next possible moves, right now the only thing he could act on was Alex. Whether it was a massage, fixing the prosthetic, anything Alex needed, wanted.

“It has known better days,” Alex answered, leaning his head on Michael’s shoulder while he ate. They were silent for a few minutes, Michael enjoying breakfast, Alex texting Kyle about his leg. Once Michael finished eating, he spoke up.

“So, uh, we made a list?” Michael started, hesitantly. “Of all the things we lost in the fire. A few cars were touched, so that’s gonna cost a lot with the clients. Hopefully we can get insurance, but I don’t think that’ll be enough. There’s also a lot of old junk that burnt, which sucks since we wanted to sort through it and melt the metal parts together. Now it’s just a bunch of useless shit, so we’ll have to throw that out. We’ll also need to replace the heavy tools, a lot of them are melted or burnt. So all in all, the bill is high.”

He sighed, “Too high,” he added at the end, a whisper, as if saying the words at louf would make them more real. After the pandemic, the junkyard was slowly building itself back up monetarily, but they still weren’t out of the red. And the explosion only made things harder.

Alex rubbed his hand up and down Michael’s back, listening in silence, being a comforting presence. One Michael finished speaking, Alex talked, voice low, testing the waters if Michael wasn’t ready to talk about it now.

“Did you make a list for the airstream?” he asked, full of concern.

Michael nodded, and suddenly it was as if the dam had broken. When last night Michael was mostly in shock, he was fully sobbing, turning to Alex, who held him tight in the embrace.

“I lost -” Michael sobbed, “I lost everything, Alex.”

Alex held him, tried to make him feel calmer. Except, this was all new territory, seeing Michael brake like that, Alex had never witnessed it. Like everyone else, anger was mostly the emotion he had attributed to Michael in the past. And that anger was still there, now, sobbing into Alex’s chest. Except it was controlled, and surrounded by sadness and pain, that Alex didn’t need to be psychic to feel.

Before, Alex might have taken Michael’s comment personally, told him that he didn’t lose everything, that Alex was still there. But this was past Alex, present Alex knew that Michael had built his life in that airstream, it was his first real home, the first safe place that was his and his only. Because where the truck was technically speaking the first thing Michael owned, the trailer was the first object he built from the ground up.

So yes, Michael had lost everything. Everything he owned, everything he built, the countless drawings and projects that scattered the walls of the airstream and the entire bunker, the photographs he kept hidden in a box.

Where people would see a piece of trash, some place that was unsanitary and dirty, some place that wouldn’t be comfortable to live in, Michael had seen a home for many years. And as much as Alex was Michael’s home, nothing could replace the airstream.

“I know,” Alex whispered into Michael’s hair, “I’m sorry”.

The two stayed in that position for a while, until Alex’s phone rang. Michael stood straight, wiped his eyes and his nose, and grabbed another cake, while Alex talked to Eduardo, giving a fast review of what happened with the Lockhart machine, but keeping it vague enough to not out Dallas.

“Seriously,” Alex laughed out after hanging up, “the Valenti’s need to stop calling me.” At Michael’s confused raised eyebrow, he continued, “I was talking to Kyle earlier, he was worried about my leg, telling me not to put it under pressure. As if I couldn’t make that decision myself. And now, Eduardo is giving me a week off, to, I quote, ‘rest’. I am a grown ass man, I can do that myself!”

Michael giggled at that, turning into a laugh. “What?” Alex asked with a smile, not understanding what was funny.

“Babe,” Michael said, leaning close, “you do need people to tell you to rest.” He kissed Alex’s cheek as the other man chuckled, “That’s fair,” Alex replied, turning to look at Michael.

He was not yet in a good state, his eyes were still puffy and red, his cheeks beard the path of dried tears, his curls were all over the place, and his eyes were still heartbreaking. The sadness and the pain were clear in them.

But when Alex looked deep into Michael’s eyes, he could see that it was going to be okay. That Michael would hurt, for a long time even, and it would be hard to recover financially, but Michael’s eyes had something in them that he had desperately tried to get rid of. Hope.

And that was enough for Alex to believe that they were going to be okay. That Michael was going to be okay. The fight wasn’t over. The other’s may not be fighting Jones anymore, but Michael and Alex weren't done. In more ways than once.

They still had to deal with the damages in the junkyard. Help Sanders with his auto shop. And deal with their personal fears, Michael’s fears about his father.

The fire had destroyed Michael’s home, but from the ashes, a new one was being built.

#i made myself cry with my own fic lmao #and when i mean it was supposed to be different #i had planned a fic where the pod squad is happy alive and hugs #and i ended up with michael crying #i blame it all on the song #michael guerin #alex manes #walt sanders #rnm fic #rnm spoilers #again idk if it really counts as spoilers?#im gonna assume so to be on the safe side #thesquidkid writes

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thegreatestofheck · 4 years ago

Text

warm //Fred Weasley\\

warnings - mentions of death, angst and a lot of it, really like there is nothing here except angst and also Fred dies again. also, I didn’t edit this. synopsis - you and your husband survive the second wizarding war, but so do some of Voldemort’s old followers, and they are hell bent on revenge. pairings - muggle!reader x Fred Weasley a/n - so this is based on a dream I had a long while ago and I just needed to get off my chest. I hope y’all enjoy it. Also, sorry, I’m not british and it feels weird typing Mum and not being british so I just used Mom. I apologize. And yes, the first part of this was an actual dream that I had once and it absolutely broke me to pieces. So, here I am sharing it with you so that you can all cry too. You’re welcome.

~~~

You had spent many Christmases with the Weasleys, but this was your first Christmas celebrating as a Weasley.

You twisted the simple copper bands around your fingers, as you always did when you were nervous. Fred Weasley, your husband, reached out to take your hand without even looking at your fidgetiness. He knw you well enough to know when you were nervous.

“You already know everyone here,” he said in a low whisper. “There’s no need to be afraid.”

“I’m not scared of your family!” You told him quietly with a smile before placing your other hand gently over your stomach. “I’m just...nervous about telling them.”

Fred looked over at you as if suddenly remembering that you were expecting your first kid, who would be the second of Molly and Arthur’s grandkids, right after Victoire. He smiled at you and then smiled down at your hand.

“George and Angelina already know, what’s the difference from telling everyone else?”

“Well, let’s think,” you hummed sarcastically, tapping your free hand against your chin. “Oh, right, there’s like a million people in your family and I have a paralyzing fear of public speaking.”

Fred laughed and it sent your stomach rolling like it always did. Your dad had warned you about what would happen after your honeymoon period had ended, how the butterflies might go away, but it had been almost a year and every time Fred smiled, your entire body still burst with joy at the sight of it.

“We’ll just go in and figure it out from there, yeah?” He said, with a side smile and his never fading confidence. You squeezed his hand and smiled back.

“Yeah.”

You sucked in one last calming breath as Fred lifted his hand to knock on the wooden door. It was your final chance at peace before the world decsended into the chaos that was the Weasley-Potter-Granger-Johnson-Delacour-y/l/n family.

Arthur opened the door and barely had time to recognize that it was you and Fred before Molly let out a cry of joy and ran to greet you.

“My dear y/n!” Molly Weasley wrapped you in a tight hug. “How are you? How was Spain? Didn’t run into any trouble I hope?”

“Mom!” Ginny laughed, pulling her mother away from you. “Merlin’s Beard, let her breathe!”

“Hey, Gin,” you whispered as she pulled you in for a short squeeze.

“Hey, sis.”

Ginny escorted you to the dining room where the others were waiting eagerly to greet you. George and Angelina stood back, watching you and Fred with knowing smiles. Hermione let out a squeal of excitement at the sight of you, tossing Ron’s arm from around her shoulders so she could run to embrace you.

Throwing her arms around your neck almost threw you off balance, but Fred was right behind you to keep you steady.

“The house looks amazing,” you said Hermione pulled away. You looked up at the tall ceilings, the crooked paintings on the wall, the charmed knitting needles doing their own thing in a vacant chair. “Just like it always has been.”

Fred snaked an arm around your waist, but not before Hermione and Ginny pulled you away to chat.

“And who is this lovely lady?” Fred asked, walking over to a brunette standing beside Percy. The girl blushed and extended a hand.

“This is my friend, Aubrey,” Percy told, the same level of sobriety as always.

“Friend,” Ginny mouthed to you with air quotes. You laughed, just as easily as you always had.

“Are Bill and Fleur here yet?” You asked. “I haven’t had the chance to get my hands on that baby of theirs.”

“Not yet,” Angelina said as she walked over to join the group of girls. You could see the smirk on her face as she settled in beside you near the fireplace. “You’re going to have to forcibly take Victoire from Bill. He doesn’t like to let her go.”

“She’s gonna be a daddy’s girl I see,” you teased and the girl’s laughed.

“If Bill has anything to say about it,” Ginny added.

Fred and George fell quickly back into their usual antics, leaving you and Angelina to watch with amused smiles from the side.

“So,” you said quietly once the two of you were alone. “When is he asking?”

Angelina sighed.

“He refuses to tell me. Said something about waiting for the right moment.” You rolled your eyes. Fred had said the same thing. “Have you seen the ring?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“What does it look like?”

“I can’t tell you, Ang! It’s a surprise!”

Angelina nudged you gently with her elbow, but not too hard.

“Have you told your parents about...?” She nodded down to your stomach, sure to keep her voice low.

“Of course I did,” you said. “My mom is just excited that her little girl’s all grown up and my dad is hoping for another magical baby.”

“Right. How is your sister doing?”

“She’s good. Out there living her best magical life.” There was only the faintest trace of bitterness in your voice.

Both of your parents were muggles. Your sister ended up being a witch, but you, unfortunately, did not. Still, you and your family had always been exposed to magic, having been family friend’s with Angelina and the rest of the Johnson’s for almost your entire life. It was Angelina who introduced you to the twins when you were nine, Angelina who forced all three of you to hang out until the twins actually started to like you, Angelina who convinced Fred to ask you out, and so, naturally, it was Angelina (and George) who was that first to know about your baby.

“Have you picked out any names yet?” Angelina asked, leaning in even closer. Your eyes sparkled as you looked at her, the very subject making nearly burst with joy. You wanted to tell her, oh how you wanted to tell her, but you and Fred had promised to keep it a secret, even from Angelina and George.

“I can’t say just yet,” you replied. Angelina raised an eyebrow.

Not much later, Bill and Fleur arrived, baby Victoire in her daddy’s arms. You nearly jumped out of your seat with excitement. Bill took one look at your face and nearly hid Victoire behind his wife, who simply laughed. After another long round of greetings, Arthur finally called everyone to the table.

“Our family grows every year,” he said, his eyes beginning to swim with tears. “Each and every one of us has lived through the unimaginable.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, knowing that everyone around you had fought in a war that you didn’t even know was going on. Once again, Fred reached out to grab your hand under the table without even looking at you.

“I am so proud to get to call you my family,” Arthur said, choking up even more. Molly reached up a shaking hand and placed it over his. He looked down at her and she smiled. You pictured yourself there one day, surrounded by an enormous family, full of joy and happiness and memories despite all the pain the world would inevitably throw your way. You looked over at Fred and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“We have an announcement,” you said suddenly, smiling as you stood. Angelina immediately blossomed into a grin, while Fred turned white. You looked around at all the expectant faces watching you.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. His lightning bolt scar had begun to fade in the last year and a half since the Dark Lord was defeated. His glasses were almost always broken, but Hermione had taught Ginny the spell to fix it.

Ron Weasley. No longer was he Harry’s best friend or the last of the Weasley boys. He had made a name for himself. Hunting down dark wizards to every corner of the world, the world was safer with him in it.

Hermione Granger, on her way to becoming the first, and youngest, female Minister of Magic. With all her studying and hard work and dedication, she never lost that childlike twinkle in her eye.

Ginny Weasley, chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. No one could beat her. With an iron grit and nerves of steel, no one could stare her down and make it out on the other side. Yet she was still the kindest person you knew.

Fleur Weasley, a kind and loving woman, despite all the pain she suffered.

Angelina Johnson, a wickedly talented witch and the best friend a girl could ask for.

Percy Weasley, a pain in the arse, but the constant voice of reason.

Bill Weasley, always find the best in every situation, even when things are the most dire.

George Weasley, who never had an end to all the jokes and smiles, even in the darkest of times.

Molly Weasley, who gave everything she had to her kids and kept on giving.

Arthur Weasley, who’s courage and loyalty to his family kept them all alive for this long.

Aubrey....well, you didn’t know her that well, but she had a kind smile and a wicked sense of fashion.

And Fred, your Freddie, who made you laugh even when you wanted to cry, who held your hair back as you violently vomited in the toilet, who would build forts with you in your tiny loft and remind you to water your plants and feed the cat, who was more than willing to give up his joke shop and travel the world with you if that was what you wanted. Your solid rock, your standing place, your hope when the world was nothing but bleak. Your everything.

You looked at each one of their faces and remembered how much you loved them and how grateful you were to have them in your life. And you couldn’t hold your secret in any longer.

“Fred and I are-”

The wall beside you exploded into a million pieces, sending you flying forward. You barely heard Fred scream your name over the sounds of the others shrieking and the ringing in your ears.

You hit the stone ground hard, the air squeezing painfully from your lungs. Your squeezed your eyes shut, praying for the high pitched squeal in your ears to fade. Once it had, all you were left with was screaming. Your eyes refused to open quickly. All you could do was blink. Dust and ash floated around your vision. Bursts of blue and green and red light flew across the room before you could even recognize it.

“Ang!” You heard a voice cry.

“Here!” Someone replied.

You stood as quickly as your trembling legs allowed you to, pulling yourself by the fireplace mantel. All around you, more spells were shot back and forth through the house. You pressed yourself as tightly against the wall as you could manage, hoping to not get hit by anything stray.

“Aubrey!” Percy shouted, grabbing hold of her wrist from between the legs of a fallen chair.

“Go!” Arthur shouted over the cackling of the intruders and the shattering of picture frames. “We’ll find you. Just go!”

With a hiss and a pop, Percy and Aubrey disappeared from your sight. You wished you could Apparate now. But you wouldn’t leave until you found Fred.

Taking in a deep breath as if diving under water, you ducked and rolled into the fireplace where you were hoping it would be a little more safe.

You searched through the chaos with your eyes, afraid to move from your spot, for any sign of your husband. Your heart soared as you thought you saw him, only to realize that it was George pulling Angelina into a tight hug before following in Percy’s footsteps.

You met Angelina’s gaze just before George Apparated them away, her eyes going wide and her lips just beginning to form the shape of your name. Your heart jumped into your throat.

“y/n!” You heard a familiar voice call.

“I’m here!” You weren’t sure how far your voice carried over the sound of mini explosions, or if it was even safe to give away your position at all, but anything was better right now than being alone.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you scanned the dining room for any sign of him, but the dust and the smoke was filling the room rather quickly and it was becoming difficult to see. You could hear someone screaming and for a moment you feared it was Victoire.

The screaming became too much and you covered your ears with your hands, only to discover that it had been you that was screaming, not anyone else. Your voice echoed through the fireplace.

Finally, through the haze Fred came barreling through. You let out a cry of joy, lurching forward at the sight of him, leaving the safety of your hiding place..

“Avada-”

You reached forward with all your might, seeing a smile on his face as he reached out to grab hold of your arm. As soon as his skin met yours, there was a shout from someone else, almost like a warning cry, and your stomach lurched, the familiar feeling of Apparating.

You squeezed your eyes tight, not wanting to watch the world spin out of control around you while you were taken to wherever it was the Fred wanted you to go. You thought of your trip to Spain, of the beautiful countryside where there was no one for miles. In the sleepless nights since you had returned and through the bouts of horrible morning sickness, that countryside was peaceful enough to calm you down.

So, when the spinning sensation stopped and you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised to find yourself standing on those same countryside. Fred quickly pulled his hand from yours as he landed. Before you could even question why he brought you both here, your stomach churned again, but this time, it wasn’t magic. Your baby heavily disagreed with your husband’s quick way of travelling.

After emptying your guts into the grass, you straightened and looked up at the blue sky.

“It’s still so beautiful here, Freddie,” you said, letting your eyes close as the gentle breeze blew through your hair. “But why bring us here? Why not somewhere-”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you turned around to face him.

He lay on his back, arms out beside him as he stared up at the beautiful sky above him. Only, he wasn’t staring. His eyes weren’t seeing at all.

“Freddie?”

You walked over to him, your heart roaring to life, beating so wildly in your chest, you feared you might explode.

Dropping to the ground beside him, you fought back the water that was rapidly obscuring your vision.

“Freddie.” You reached out to take his hand, only to find him cold as stone. A horrified gasped came from your mouth. Nothing about Fred had ever been cold. He was light and life and everything warm under the sun. His soul burned like a thousand infernos, heating everything in his wake. His heart was a million suns beating in unison, to the same rhythm as yours. Nothing about Fred was ever cold.

Except, now his hands. Now the distant, glazed over look in his eyes. Now the ghost of his last smile etched onto his lips.

Leaning over him, you could have sworn you saw a flash of green reflected in those beautiful brown eyes of his and your mouth fell open in shock.

“Freddie!” You cried, suddenly realizing what exactly had happened. “Fred!”

You took his cold hand in yours, bringing it to your lips. You breathed against his knuckles, hoping to give him some of the warmth that you had left in you.

“Come on,” you whispered, letting his hand fall into your lap as you placed your own hands on his face. “Come on, breathe!”

Your lower jaw began to quiver as tears started to drip down your cheeks.

“You can’t leave me yet,” you whispered to him, curling your body over his. You tucked one arm under his neck, pulling him into your lap. His eyes still did not move and his ghostly smile never wavered. “Don’t leave us.”

But his body was still cold and growing colder with every passing second.

“Help.” Your voice broke, your words drowned out by your owns tears. “Somebody, please, help us.”

Even if you could get your voice above a whisper, there would be no one for miles. This was the place you had wanted to go, the place where you and Fred could be alone and safe from the wizards in the dark cloaks. You had brought the yourself here because Fred didn’t leave his house alive.

Leaning down and pressing your forehead to his chest, you let out a sob and then another one, your fingers curling around his Weasley jumper. The golden ‘G’ darkened from your tears until the entire thing was soaked through.

“I can’t do this alone,” you said, finally lifting your head to look at his face.

“You’re not alone,” whispered the wind. You gasped and sat up straighter, looking around for the voice. There was no one in sight. “I’m right here.”

“Freddie?” You asked, barely trusting the word that left your lips. The wind was silent. You looked back down at Fred, at Fred’s body, and tightened your jaw. You brushed away what remained of your tears.

“I’m getting us home,” you promised him, lifting your hand to shut his eyes. “Just you wait, I’m getting us home.”

~~~

You looked up at the Burrow. Once again, the windows were shattered, the door was broken to splinters, one wall had caved in. You could hear voices from inside, whispering, talking. A laugh rang out. Your heart soared in your chest.

It had been weeks since you saw them last, weeks that you had been carrying Fred’s body behind you. A kindly wizard you had met along the way froze him for you so he wouldn’t decay, which felt awfully morbid, but you were grateful. Your hair was a tangled mess, your face covered in dirt and sweat and sunburnt nearly beyond recognition.

But you had finally made it home.

You weren’t sure you would be able to drag Fred’s body the rest of the way up to the door, but you wouldn’t need to. Before you could take another step, Angelina stepped into view.

For a moment, she just stared at you and you simply stared back. Her eyes didn’t even move to the rolled up carpet where you had hidden Fred’s body behind you. She just stared. And then, as if a gate had suddenly been opened, she came hurtling toward you at full speed.

You let out a single laugh just before she collided with you, pulling you in for the tightest hug she could have given. You were crying again once you were in her arms.

“It’s okay,” she whispered against your hair. “You’re safe.”

Your legs gave out beneath you and she helped you to the ground. Everyone else inside had heard your cry and came filing out one by one until they were all standing around you. You were surprised to see even Charlie was there, the prodigal son returned home.

“Where’s-”

Ginny didn’t even need to finish your question. From the look on your face, they all knew.

“He-” You struggled to keep your words from shaking. Angelina squeezed your hand and helped you onto your feet. “I couldn’t leave him there.”

The words you spoke made Harry take a step backward, the first one to fully put things together. He looked at you and then he looked back at the rug you had been dragging and his face turned white as snow.

Angelina had to keep you upright, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding onto your arm.

“I tried,” you said, looking straight toward Molly, who still didn’t fully understand.

“Oh, god,” Ginny breathed and then let out a shuddered gasp as she finally puzzled things out. Harry took her hand and pulled her into a hug and, as soon as he did, she dissolved into tears. One by one, they each began to realize what had happened. You watched in horror as that family slowly began to fall apart. Molly shrieked, falling to her knees and Arthur following after her. Hermione immediately put her arms around Ron to stop him from walking toward the rug that held his brother. Bill stared in wide-eyed horror at his wife, who had turned her body so the baby in her arms wouldn’t be able to see the rug at your feet. Percy was still as stone.

And George, George stared at you and you stared back unable to see anything but your husband’s face.

“George, I’m-”

Before you could even try to apologize, he strode toward you and snatched you out of Angelina’s arms and into his, pulling you in for an even tighter hug. And like that, the two of you finally fell apart.

~~~

You couldn’t stand at his funeral. Your body was still so exhausted from the journey home and from trying to keep the baby inside you alive that your legs would simply no longer hold you upright.

You were glad they had you in a wheelchair. That way, they couldn’t see your knees shake.

Your eyes never dried the entire time. You thought you might have cried every last tear you had in your body the day you returned home, but you apparently had more inside of you.

Aside from your family (and Lee Jordan, who stood beside Angelina), there were so many people you did not recognize. An older woman with glasses and an emerald green dress. A rather large man with bushy hair and a long beard. A blond boy who stood off to the side, away from everyone else. Two boys, one shorter and one taller, holding hands as they both stifled tears.

You wondered how many lives Fred had touched, how many people he had made laugh, that you would never get the privilege of meeting.

Back at the Burrow later that day, you sat next to Molly and Arthur, each of you staring blankly at the floor. You twisted your rings around your fingers, but not out of worry. You slowly pulled them off before turning to Molly.

She looked at you, a stream of tears running from her eyes. With trembling hands, you handed the rings out to her.

“These belong to your family,” you said, chin shaking as you tried to fight back tears. Molly shook her head, eyes closing, but she was unable to say anything.

“Just because you are no longer married to our son, does not make you any less our daughter,” Arthur told you with the only hint of a smile that he could manage. You gasped in shuddered breaths and Molly reached out to pull you into a tight hug.

“I’m pregnant,” you sobbed as you clung to her jumper. She ran her fingernails over your back and you were pretty sure you could feel her smile.

“I know. Fred told me.”

You managed a laugh as you pulled away.

“If it’s a boy, we want to name him Gideon,” you said, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. Molly sucked in a shuddering breath. “Gideon Lee. And if it’s a girl, we want to name her Persephone, but, Percy, for short.”

Somewhere across the living room, Percy Weasley lifted his head. Aubrey was no where to be seen.

“You saved his life at the battle you fought,” you reminded him. Percy’s eyes swam with water. “He never forgot it. This is how we say thank you.”

Percy nodded his head slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he dropped his head back into his hands.

~~~

You had a boy and a girl.

You weren’t prepared for twins, but it didn’t matter.

With so many of his kids moving out to start their own families, Molly prepared a room for you to stay with her and Arthur. Molly dotted on Gideon and Persephone, never wanting to put them down no matter how loudly they cried.

“My twins were the same,” she said, smiling at the memory. Her face never turned sad.

Some days you were perfectly fine. You could look at Persephone’s full head of bright orange hair and Gideon’s hazel eyes and see Fred and smile. And some days, you couldn’t even bare the thought of getting out of bed. But Molly and Arthur never left your side. Angelina and George were over all the time, to take care of you and the help with the kids. You couldn’t look at George for the first few weeks without breaking down completely. He understood.

Bill and Fleur brought Victoire to play with Gideon and Persephone and Bill even let you hold her sometimes. She really was going to grow up to be a daddy’s girl. The others never failed to visit either. Even Charlie would stop by occasionally as the two grew.

Your parents and even your wayward sister enjoyed spending time with them. You had never expected it, but the birth of your children had drawn you closer to your sister. After years of estrangement, the two of you were able to sit side by side and laugh together, as if not a day had gone by since you were ten and had no worries in the world.

You missed Fred’s warmth every single day of your life, but you found his joy in Persephone’s laughter and Gideon’s proficiency for setting things on fire. You remembered what the wind had told you that day, that you were not alone. You were never going to be alone again, and you were grateful for it.

You had spent many Christmases with the Weasleys and now you shared many Christmases as one of them.

~~~

In this life, you had lost Fred after the war. In your life before, you had lost him during it. It was almost as if the universe and all it’s splinters had decided that you and Fred were not to be. You lost every game you played together, but you were willing to lose them all, so long as you got to bask for a few minutes in his light.

~~~

tagging - @inaworldofwonder (aka the only person who liked the post I made about this story three days ago) @x-lulu (i’m not sure if you’re into harry potter, if not, im sorry) @bricksatanakinswindow (because you like harry potter and I like harry potter and you like angst and I like angst so here we are)

none of you need to feel obligated to read this but it’s been in my head since 8th grade and i just needed to get it out. thank you. love you all.

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 4 years ago

Text

this is a little thing i’d like to call “The Letterman Game” and it is completely and utterly random. so. enjoy!

===

“I can’t love you,” Tommy said. And that didn’t surprise Steve in the slightest. Tommy had other people to sucker up to; he had Carol. And sure, Steve had plenty of other people to daze around with, but Tommy was just about his favorite person in this town.

Steve played along though, “Who ever said that I needed your love?” He expected Tommy to turn a pink and walk away, but that didn’t happen.

Tommy’s lips thinned and he shined in the summer sunbeam angelically instead, “Don’t play around now, Steve. You’ll only feel worse afterword.”

Steve blinked back the prick he felt at the corners of his eyes, “Don’t assume things, Tommy. Just because—”

Tommy placed a heavy hand down on Steve’s shoulder, “Just because you’ve gotten cheated on three times now? Steve, I’m no rebound, I’ve told you that.”

Steve shoved Tommy’s arm off and shuffled back, dizzied, “It’s been four months, I think I’ve gotten over Nancy and I’ve definitely forgotten all the rest by now, Tommy!” He tossed his hands up into the air when Tommy made a move to move closer, brow pinched in concern. “It was just a simple thing, you know? I came to tell you that I care about you and if you finally wanted to get your head out of your damn ass. Then, I would try. Tommy, I’m so tired of you trying to deflect my feelings like your own aren’t apparent. So go, go to Carol like you always do and forget about little ole Steve Harrington. Because he’s just a pathetic little rich boy who doesn’t see the world as it is right?” Steve turned his back, not allowing Tommy to get the chance to see the tears that were about to fall. He was done.

“Steve, come on man!”

“Zip it, Hagan. Because I know more of what’s in our world than you’ll ever even comprehend. And it sucks,” he spat out and jogged the final steps to the parking lot.

To hell with childhood sweethearts. Honestly.

===

It wasn’t long after the “fallout” that Tommy was fawning about Billy Hargrove and their new buddyship. Unfortunately for Tommy Hagan, Billy Hargrove took a rather keen liking to Steve Harrington instead. So, Billy and Tommy didn’t actually spend much time together.

Steve and Billy became the new duo; hung out at the community pool for the few last weeks it was still open for the year. Got real close.

“Tommy’s annoying as hell,” Billy kicked his foot out and splashed water onto Steve’s own bare leg as they sat by the edge of the pool. Their feet in the water just barely too cold water. Only an inch or so apart with their hands in their own laps and shades covering their eyes. “I don’t know how you managed to tolerate his constant whining.”

Steve sighed and tilted his head at the shimmering water, “He was my best friend since we were kids, I whined with him.” Billy chuckled and Steve allowed himself to grin, “And he’s not that bad, he’s a good friend when he wants to be.”

Billy scooped a floating bee out of the water and tipped it over onto the concrete, “When he wants to be doesn’t aline well with when I want him to be.”

Steve watched as Billy pushed the accumulating water puddle away from the drying bee carefully, “I guess I never noticed that we might have been the wrong fit for each other, he was never all that with me. He was there when it mattered the most though.”

Billy’s finger twitched, “You really liked him didn’t you?”

Steve snorted and watched their sunlit reflections dance along the water, “Yeah, but that was a while ago. I can see a lost cause when it’s right in front of me, and he wasn’t in it enough for me to keep trying.”

Billy nodded, “Not all pairs are meant to stick forever.” The bee stood up and Billy sat up straight to catch Steve’s eye. He smirked suddenly and whispered, “I have an idea, Stevie. You in?”

Billy’s curls fluttered in the breeze like wings and Steve tucked one away with two fingers, “All in it for you, Bills.”

===

Billy didn’t actually have a well developed plan, just a spur of the moment decision really. But he did have a question that needed answering that Steve didn’t like the sound of.

“Do you still sincerely care about Hagan? Because if he reacts the way I think he will and you do, you’re going to be in a bit of a rut, Harrington.”

So, Steve thought it over in a relative one moment and responded, “He could break is arm again and I wouldn’t give him the time of day.” Billy was completely silent for a moment and Steve kept his decisive face clear as day.

Billy smiled all excited, “Oh, baby, I haven’t gotten into shit like this in a long time,” he opened the Camaro trunk and started moving things around.

Steve stayed behind the lid of the trunk, leaned against the back door, and raised a brow, “Define shit.”

“Drama that doesn’t involve Sally and Dean, that shit,” Billy grunted as something heavy thudded against floor of the trunk. “Fun shit, where we get a good, mostly innocent laugh, and Tommy dearest doesn’t get a chance to see what hits him.”

Steve raised his other brow and giggled lowly as he traveled around to Billy’s side, “What do you have planned, Inspector Gadget?” Billy responded by lifting up a blue letterman jacket with a big ‘A’ patch on one side. Steve smiled at the fact that Billy actually owned one, “Cute.” Billy’s grin grew so big his teeth showed, and then he turned it around so that it could be seen that big, bold, white, blocky letters crafted out ‘HARGROVE’ on the back. Steve gaped at it, “What are we gonna do with that?”

Billy draped it over Steve’s shoulders and admired as he slithered his arms in the sleeves, “Hot damn, Harrington.” Billy’s eyes roamed, “Blue is definitely your color. You think Hagan’ll get a kick outta this?”

“We are not,” Steve whispered but popped the collar up anyway.

“Oh, doll,” Billy purred and leaned in flirtatiously, “Yes, yes, we are.” Billy’s eyes glowed, “We’ll leave him in the dust.”

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #tommy hagan #carol perkins #harringrove #failed stommy #idk i don’t like it much but i spent too much time on it to let it go to the dogs

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fckinsupreme · 4 years ago

Note

sub! virgin jim mason 😳😳

I did this for slightly older!Jim! He’s in his early 20s in this one and reader is an adult film actress.

———————-

Telling one of your open secrets to Jim hadn’t been easy, but you knew you had to do it. The odds of him eventually finding out had been great, and you would rather he hear it from you than accidentally discovering it himself. The fact that he didn’t already know surprised you, but it also filled you with relief. He meant a lot to you, and the fact that this may drive him away filled you with unfathomable dread.

The two of you had been friends for about three years now, having met at the beach when you came to a nearby university to study. You bonded over your shared love of surfing, of the water, of the beach, and you had been nearly inseparable ever since. You told him everything, except for what you did on the side. A degree in marine biology led you nowhere, even in an area such as this one. It wasn’t paying the rent, the bills, the necessities. You found yourself seeking out other options, and stumbled into the porn industry. You hadn’t made many films; just some small ones that didn’t get much recognition compared to bigger porn stars, but those more than paid for what you needed. However, you still felt that Jim had a right to know, and that’s when you decided to tell him.

He took it surprisingly well. He was shocked at first, but he had been incredibly supportive of you. He offered to help you if you ever needed out, but you told him that you were loving what you did. He also asked—out of curiosity, you assumed—what your screen name was. You gladly gave it to him, and a thoughtful, joyous expression crossed his features. The relief for telling him was overwhelming, and you went home that evening feeling happy and, for the first time in awhile, at ease.

The next day, you went over to see him. When you didn’t get an answer after knocking three times, you grabbed his key from your purse. You each had keys to the other’s place, and you were concerned when he didn’t come to greet you, so you decided to let yourself in. You call for him, but still don’t get an answer. Panic begins to mount, but you keep telling yourself that he’s just asleep and that’s all there was to it. You always feared he would relapse, and every time you didn’t get anything from him or he vanished for awhile, your worry is at an all-time high.

But he wasn’t asleep this time, and he thankfully didn’t relapse.

When you reach his room, you can see him through a wide crack in his door. His back is to you, the unmistakable sounds of sex coming from the computer in front of him. His tiny whimpers and grunts are nearly drowned out by those of whatever he was watching, and you push the door open to see what it was. Your blood runs cold when you see yourself on the screen, but your dread doesn’t last long when you see that he’s touching himself while watching it. His hand moves vigorously, the sounds of him jerking off also masked within the noises of the film. You feel a jolt of arousal coursing between your thighs, and you squeeze them together in attempt to calm I t.

You take another step into the room, and a creaking floorboard gives you away. Jim wheels around, his eyes wide in horror as his cheeks turn a deep crimson. He fumbles with the laptop, pausing it and slamming the lid shut as he shakes his head. You feel bad for startling him and embarrassing him, so you step toward him as you smile warmly.

“It’s okay,” you say, standing before him as you place a hand on one of his red cheeks. “It’s okay, Jim. Don’t be ashamed; I’m not mad or upset.”

“I...I’m sorry, I...” Jim says, wringing his hands as he looks up at you. “I got curious, and...”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” you say, smiling as you run a finger down his cheek. “Actually...If you wanted me to, I’d love to help you out.”

“What do you mean?” Jim asks, eyeing you in confusion.

You nod toward his erection, which was still visible. “I mean that I want to help you with that. I want to touch you, and you can touch me as well, if you want.”

“I...” he says, laughing nervously as he looks to the ground. “I have a secret to tell you, too.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“I’m...I’ve never actually...had sex before,” he says, his cheeks pink again.

“Really?” you ask, your brows raised in surprise. “Well...how would you like it if I was your first?”

He doesn’t take long to answer, slowly glancing from the ground to you. “I would like that a lot...”

You lean forward and kiss him softly, your lips pressed chastely to his. He doesn’t draw back; in fact, he welcomes it. You don’t take it a step further yet, instead standing up and extending a hand for him to take. He does so, swallowing thickly as you lead him to his bed. You grip the bottom of his shirt and he nods, knowing what you’re wanting to do. You tug it over his head, tossing it aside before doing the same with your own. He eyes your breasts, still within your bra, and he shyly reaches out to massage them. You moan softly, biting your lip as you fumble with the belt of his pants. Fortunately, they were already halfway down; your hands were shaking with anticipation and you didn’t know if you could get them off. You get out of the rest of your clothing, Jim’s eyes glued to you as you slowly strip for him.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he takes in your nude form, his eyes settling on your breasts.

“You look hot, too,” you say with a chuckle, nodding toward his computer as you push him onto his back. You straddle him, mewling as you softly grind against his erection. “I noticed you were watching a video of me dominating a guy. That got you going, huh?”

“Yes,” he says with a rapid nod. “I...It’s always been a fantasy of mine. Is that weird?”

“No,” you say gently, running your hands up his chest before anchoring them on his shoulders. “Just like this won’t make our friendship weird, I hope.”

“It won’t,” he promises, his hands on your waist as he slowly runs them over your rib cage.

“Then I’ll do it,” you say, grinning at him before kissing him hungrily. He groans against your lips, and he breaks the kiss to gaze at you desperately. “I know you don’t have a strap-on like I had in that video, but I can dominate you in other ways.”

“Tie me to the bed,” he begs, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “And...could you, um...stuff your panties in my mouth, too?”

“Like a gag?” you ask, and he nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

You move off the bed, grabbing one of his belts and your panties from the floor. You tie him first, making sure the restraint is secure on his bedpost & his wrists before stuffing your underwear into his mouth. His eyes roll back, and he mumbles a word of thanks around the flimsy fabric. You smile, kissing down his jaw and over his neck before pulling one of his nipples gently between your teeth. He moans, and you sit up a little to meet his eyes.

“I’m gonna suck your cock,” you say. “If you want that, nod. If not, shake your head.”

He nods rapidly, bucking up a little before you grab his throat in warning. “Ah, ah. Patience, Jimmy; you don’t want me to change my mind, do you?”

He shakes his head, stilling his movements in defeat. You make your way down, giving attention to his V-lines as you do so. He tries to say something around the gag, and you shake your head with a soft shush. You jerk him off for a moment, licking a slow stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, allowing him to get used to the sensation.

“This is gonna feel so much better than you could have imagined,” you say. “But if you want me to stop or something doesn’t feel good, shake your head. Okay?”

He nods to show that he understands, and you press sloppy, open mouth kisses all over his shaft. He whines pleasurably, swallowing thickly around the gag as he gazes down at you in anticipation. You give his cock a few more pumps before taking him into your mouth, gagging around him as he hits the back of your throat. Jim bucks upward, moaning hotly and breathing heavily through his nose as his lashes flutter. He twitches in your mouth, his large vein throbbing against your tongue as you start to bob your head.

“Mmnnn,” he groans, his head thrown back against his pillows. “Fnnnck!”

You cup his balls in one hand, grasping his base with the other. You massage them, jerking him off into your mouth as your speed increases. It’s over in a minute or two, and he cums forcefully in your throat as you pop off. You open your mouth to show him the cum that didn’t already go down your throat, swallowing gratefully after doing so. His cheeks are dark red, embarrassment written all over his face as he tries speaking around your panties. You move up his body and remove them, and he looks at you with tears in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, shaking his head as he tries to fight off more tears. “I didn’t mean...I didn’t mean to do that so soon, I...”

“Shh, shh,” you say gently, kissing over his face. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Something felt really good and you just responded, that’s all. If anything, I’m flattered.”

“Really?” Jim asks. “You aren’t mad that it happened so quickly?”

“No,” you say. “In fact, it just means that we can have more fun while you warm back up.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, and you smile at his innocence. “You mean—“

“I’m gonna make you feel good so that you can fuck me,” you say. “If you want that.”

“Yes,” he says eagerly. “But I...Could you maybe...um...edge me this time?”

“Of course,” you say, kissing him passionately before straddling his face. “Do you wanna eat me out, Jimmy?”

“Yes,” he says, tugging at the belt as he tries to grip you. “I want to taste you...”

“Go ahead,” you say, lowering yourself a little so that he can get a taste. “It’s okay, Jimmy...”

Jim delves in immediately, groaning against your pussy as he laps at the sticky, milky arousal that’s pooled there. He doesn’t stop, completely lost in what he’s doing, his mouth lazily working from your entrance, to your clit, and then back again. Your head tips back, your hands massaging your breasts and giving your nipples a little bit of a tug before one hand lands in his hair.

“Did you ever think you would get to experience your first time with a porn star?” you ask, moaning as he shakes his head against your cunt in response.

“No,” he says, sucking your clit gingerly before giving the restraints another pull. “Please...let me out of these. I wanna touch you.”

“Not yet,” you say, crying out as he sucks your inner labia. “Make me cum first, and maybe, just /maybe/, I’ll consider it.”

————

Baby taglist: @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @leatherduncan @elizabeth-bennnett-darcy @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @melodylangdon @wickedlangdon @xavierplympton @xavierplymptons @littlegirlsdontplaynice @whatcodysaid @dark-mei-rose @frenchlangdon @blakewaterxx

#I hate this 😩#jim mason #jim mason blurb #jim mason imagine #jim mason x reader #jim mason smut

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golbrocklovely · 5 years ago

Text

the chosen daughter // colby brock - chapter thirteen

A/N: this is probs one of the longest chapters i’ve ever written, which is also why it took me a while to write. anything with a lot of dialogue takes a bit for me to write out, so i want to say sorry about the wait. however, hopefully the length makes up for it. thank you to everyone that has sent me such positive reviews about my writing and this story. it means a lot to me. have a good one yall, and enjoy this next chapter :)

story description

taglist: @far-to-many-bands , @idfk-tbh-oops , @muted-mayham , @ughwhyislifesohard , @justtanerd , @ashyoungxblood , @cmburgos

trigger warning: cursing, angst

word count: 2848

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wiped the bar down, trying to busy myself. There hadn't been a new customer in over an hour, and Vampiro was closing soon, so most likely there wouldn't be anyone else.

"Why is it so slow tonight?" I noted, turning my head to Ronnie.

"Bloody is having ‘Blood Fest’: all drinks are half priced.” She responded.

I hummed. “See, why don't we do something like that?”

“Would you rather deal with tourists or our regulars?” Ronnie deadpanned.

I sighed. “Good point.”

I glanced down at the end of the bar. A man had been sitting there for hours, staring at his barely sipped drink. His dark haired covered his striking blue eyes. His leather jacket rested next to him on the bar. He breathed deeply, his eyes never leaving the stirring of his straw.

He looked sad, almost defeated.

I slowly made my way over, cleaning up things along the way. When I stood in front of him finally, his eyes stayed down.

"Excuse me, sir? Are you okay?" I asked softly.

He lifted his head, noticing me. I felt a chill run up my spine, his eyes piercing mine.

I cleared my throat. “You... look sad. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Do I not look okay?” His voice was deep, matching his dark expression.

“Well, you ordered that a couple hours ago and haven't drank any of it. You also haven't left your seat since you got here. Most people don't do that.” I explained, my hands resting on the bar.

“I could just be a loner.” He mentioned.

I shrugged. “That's true. But you just don't look... okay, with being alone. If that makes any sense.”

“I've been a loner for a long time. Longer than you have been alive.” His fangs glinted in the bar’s lighting.

He's a vampire... great.

I huffed, turning to leave. “Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you.”

“No, miss. It's... alright.” He stuck his hand out, trying to stop me. “I didn't mean to be so snippy with you. I haven't been in a good mood all day.”

I questioned, facing him again. “Why's that?”

“Do you really want to know?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I have nothing better to do. Lay it on me.” I admitted, half-smiling.

“I don't really know how to explain it. It's a complicated situation I'm in. But... have you ever wanted something so badly?” He confessed.

I agreed. “Yeah, of course.”

“And I'm not talking about something that's insanely hard to get, but something that's in front of you. You already feel like you have it, but you just need the confirmation that it's yours.” He confided, his hand wrapping around his drink.

I nodded my head, my thoughts drifting to Colby for a moment.

He continued. “You just want it. There's nothing else you have ever wanted more than this, but...”

“It's just out of reach. And every time you get closer to it, it gets farther away.” I finished, exhaling wistfully.

“Yeah...” He trailed off, looking down.

I chuckled. “It sucks.”

He smirked. “That it does.”

The man removed his straw, finally taking a swig of his drink. His shoulders relaxed for a moment, his gaze landing on me once more.

“You know... your eyes, they look so familiar to me.” He stared deeply.

“Oh really? Does that line work often for you? Is that how you get all the humans?” I joked, cleaning a glass.

“No. I don't need a pick-up line. If I wanted you, I'd already have you.” He remarked, sucking his teeth, “My powers can be very... persuasive.”

Suddenly, I felt the air shift around me, another shiver running up my back. I swallowed, my eyes falling away from his for the first time.

I hadn't even realized someone new came into the bar until I heard a voice next to us. "Brother, are you done antagonizing the bartender?"

I whipped my head to the stranger's voice. The man stood in the shadows of the bar light, making it hard to pick out his features. He stared at the man I was talking to.

The man stood up, rolling his eyes. "What makes you think I'm antagonizing her?"

"Because that's who you are." The stranger replied.

The man shook his head, downing the rest of his drink. He slid his jacket on, pulling out his wallet.

“Y-you already paid.” I stuttered.

“I know. This is for you, princess.” He placed a $100 bill down, “Thanks for the talk.”

He nodded his head at me and left quickly with the stranger.

I grabbed his glass, dumping it into the sink nearby. I slowly picked up his tip, staring at the purple line running through the bill.

Ronnie rushed up to me, gasping quietly. “Holy shit! You are splitting that with me.”

“70/30.” I offered.

“Good enough for me.” She snickered.

~ \/ \/ ~

"...And that's how I almost got arrested at a Queen concert." Tara concluded, smirking mischievously.

“Wow, that is so crazy that you got to see them live.” I commented.

Tara disclosed. “Every big band that has existed... I've been to their concerts.”

“Holy shit, that's awesome.” I marveled.

“You should have seen me at a One Direction concert a couple years ago.” Tara patted my shoulder.

Kat teased. “I'm surprised Harry doesn't have a restraining order against you.”

We burst into laughter, calming down a minute later. After the weird night I had yesterday, hanging out with Tara and Kat was a nice change of pace. I never really had girl friends like this.

Or really any friends for that matter.

“Oooh, Kat. Weren't you telling me you were working on a new spell the other day?” Tara pointed, changing the subject.

Kat nodded, looking down at the floor. “Yeah I was. It's nothing major, but it's kinda cool.”

“Show us then. Besides, any form of magic in general is so dope.” I spoke.

“Okay. I need to grab my plant from the kitchen.” Kat turned to me. “Jade, could you run into my room and grab my spell book. It's gonna be on my bed.”

“Sure thing.” I jumped up and walked over to Kat's room, stepping inside quickly.

I glanced at her bed, seeing an aged leather-bound book. I grabbed it softly by the tie holding it closed, turning to leave. The book suddenly dropped to the floor, the tie coming undone in my hand. I bent down, grasping the book. My eyes drifted to the bookcase that was in front of me. I gasped suddenly, dropping the book once more.

On a shelf was another leather-bound book. It’s title: Xiomara.

What the fuck…?

“Jade! Did you find it?” Kat called.

“Uh-uh yeah! Coming.” I stammered, grabbing the spell book hastily and running out of her room.

She knew about Xiomara before my dreams...

“What took you so long?” Kat inquired, looking up at me.

I sat down, handing the spell book to Kat. “Umm, nothing. I was just noticing all the books you have Kat. There's a lot.”

“Yeah, I got my own little library going on in my room.” Kat smiled.

“I can tell.” I retorted, biting my tongue.

Tara squinted her eyes at me, then turning to Kat. “Okay... so what's the spell you've been working on?”

“Let me show you.”

Kat placed the plant in front of her. It's brown color and wilted posture made it look even smaller in the large pot. Kat flipped opened her spell book to a bookmarked page. She glanced over it quickly, turning to the plant. Tara and I peeked at each other before staring back at Kat. She slowly raised her hand over the plant, mumbling a spell quietly to herself. A blueish light manifested from her hand, raining down on the plant. The brown melted away into a healthy green, the petals undecayed, a beautiful pink flower sprouted from the stem. More flowers began to blossom from the soil, growing as tall as the original plant.

“Holy shit Kat. That's amazing.” Tara whispered in awe.

Kat beamed. “Thank you. I've been working on this for a bit. It's nothing major but-”

I cut her off, studying the light from her hand. “Hell yes, it is! This is so cool.”

“Thanks.” Kat gazed at me sweetly.

Her eyes slowly drifted down towards my necklace; she became transfixed. Her hazel eyes grew more intense, the color illuminating from her hand changing from the bright blue to a deep crimson.

“Kat? You okay?” Tara puzzled.

She didn't budge, her eyes narrowing even more at my necklace. The plant burst into flames suddenly, Kat's eyes not faltering.

Tara and I gasped. “Kat, snap out of it!”

I covered my necklace with my hand, and her gaze finally broke. She ripped her hand away, noticing the fire underneath. Tara grabbed her water and dumped it on the plant, the fire burning out immediately. The only remnant left was the smoke and the sizzling of the petals.

“What the fuck was that?” Tara exclaimed quietly.

Kat sputtered. “I-I don't know.”

“Have you ever done that before?” I queried.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why did you get like that? What were you staring at?” Tara speculated, sitting up.

“My nec-” I began.

Kat interrupted. “Nothing. I, uh, just got lost in thought for a moment. That's… another spell I've been trying to work on. I didn't think it would work.”

“Well, maybe next time, stick to bringing plants to life, not burning them.” Tara sassed, grabbing her bag.

“Yeah, I'll remember that.” Kat fretted, her eyes falling to the plant.

“How about to lighten the mood, I do some tarot card readings?” Tara grinned, pulling her deck out.

“Sure, as long as your cards don't catch on fire.” I taunted, shrugging.

“No guarantees. So, who wants to go first?” She dared.

“I will.” Kat answered, lifting her head.

“Okay, Kat. Shuffle the deck.” Tara stated.

Kat grabbed the cards from Tara's hands, shuffling them quickly. Tara's eyes landed on the deck, her purple aura appearing around the cards.

“Wait, how are you able to do a reading on Kat? She's a vampire.” I asked, confused.

“Well... I'm an elder. Most vampires don't know that I am, minus Kat and the rest of XPLR obviously.” Tara informed, glancing at me.

“When were you turned?” I questioned.

“In 1645.” She recalled.

My eyes widened. “Fuck. So that makes you…?”

“374. Plus the 19 years I lived before being turned. So I'm-” Tara started.

I interjected. “393 years old.”

She batted her eyelashes at me jokingly. “Don't I look so youthful?”

“Wait a minute, does that mean every elder can use their powers on vampires?” I suggested.

Tara revealed. “And humans. I don't usually use my powers on vamps, mostly because I don't want them to know I'm an elder.”

“Why is that?” I doubted.

“It's a long story. Trust me.” Tara scoffed.

“Okay, I'm done shuffling.” Kat chimed in, handing the deck to Tara.

“Perfect.” Tara pulled three cards off the top of the deck.

I addressed. “Wait, two of the cards are upside down.”

“That means I read the reversal of the card.” Tara described.

I blinked. “I'm gonna pretend I know what that means.”

“Every card has an upright and a reversal. The reversal, in real simple turns, is the opposite of the what the card means when it is in the upright position.” Tara clarified.

Kat requested. “What do they mean then?”

Tara pointed to the first card. “Well, your first card is 'the lovers', which as it says is about you and your boy toy Sam. Everything seems to be going okay for you...”

“But?” Kat guessed.

“But, there seems to be some jealousy or insecurities standing in your way. Why is that?” Tara accused, cocking her head to the side.

“How do you know that's true?” Kat hissed, crossing her arms.

“Because your next card, 'the queen of wands', is reversed. So, why are you jealous?” Tara repeated.

Kat exhaled. “I saw... on his phone, when he was showing me something, a girl’s name popping up.”

“Oh shit. Who?” I urged.

“Some girl named Maddie.” Kat pouted.

Tara closed her eyes abruptly, her aura appearing around her promptly. Kat and I stared at her; eyebrows raised.

“Maddie... is... his sister.” Tara deciphered.

I mumbled. “Sam has a sister?”

“Yes. Back home, in Kansas.” Tara claimed.

“How do you know this?” Kat puzzled.

Tara opened her eyes for a second, only to roll them at Kat. “The spirits. Duh.”

“Shut up.” Kat quipped.

“They tell me he misses her a lot. They had... really strict parents growing up. Sam wasn't even able to leave his house when vampires were announced to the world. But he saved up all of his money and when he left home, his family cut him off.” Tara expounded, her aura growing stronger.

“He's hasn't talked to them…” Kat uttered, staring off.

“Besides Maddie, no. They don't want to know how he's doing because he disobeyed them.” Tara ended, her aura disappearing and her eyes opening slowly.

“So, you were jealous of his sister?” I smirked at Kat.

“How was I supposed to know?! He hasn't told me that yet.” Kat shouted, grinning.

“Well, now you can go ask him, and stop being jealous of Maddie.” I giggled, lightly smacking her arm.

“That's not the only thing she's jealous of.” Tara declared.

“What?” Kat groaned.

She pointed to the final card. “Your last card is 'the seven of swords' reversed. I think there is something on your mind that you want to confess to. Something about one of us in this room...”

“Really? Do I have to?” Kat whined, her shoulders slumping.

Tara shook her head. “No, but it would be cathartic.”

Kat sighed deeply. “Fine then. I'm jealous... of you, Jade.”

“What? Why?” I blurted out.

“Sam talks about you a lot, and I know at one point I was concerned that you and him were...” Kat’s voice fell off.

“Together?! Oh my God, no.” I laughed.

Tara reasoned. “Yeah, I highly doubt Colby would like that.”

I objected. “Me and Colby aren't together.”

Kat broke in. “Nonetheless, I was jealous of Jade at first.”

“Sam sees her like a sister. He's projecting his feelings of missing his actual sister onto Jade because he feels protective of her.” Tara divulged.

“Did the spirits tell you that?” Kat jeered amusingly.

“No. But I am very good at context clues.” Tara sassed. “Let's read you, Jade.”

I reminded. “I don't think it's gonna work. The last time you tried to ask the spirits about me, you got no answer.”

“Good point,” Tara remembered. “Why don't I ask them about Colby and you then?”

I squeaked. “Me and Colby-”

She cut me short. “Aren't a thing, I know. But maybe we can see why that is the case? Or at least ask about your possible relationship?”

“Can you even do a reading for someone that isn't here?” I doubted.

Tara glared. “I'm almost 400 years old, I would hope so.”

She began to shuffle the deck, her aura appearing around the cards through her hands as she continued her motions. She closed her eyes tightly, quietly humming to herself. Finally, she stopped, pick the three cards off the top. “Okay, so your first card, ‘the magician’, is telling you to take a chance with Colby. It's showing there will be success in your love life right now, but you have to take the first step towards it.”

“That's fun.” Kat praised.

Tara flipped over the next card. “Ohh, this is a good one. So ‘the knight of cups’, when talking about your love life, means romance and flirtation. Meaning-”

Kat cooed. “You and Colby are gonna get together! Aww!”

I blushed, covering my face. “Oh my God, stop it you two.”

“She's right though. I see the two of you getting closer, finally opening up to each other in a romantic way. But make sure to take it slow and not fall headfirst into it.” Tara warned.

“Okay... what about my last card?” I sang.

Tara smiled, grabbing it and flipping it over. She dropped the card instantaneously, a small gasp leaving her lips.

“What? What is it?” I gazed down at the card.

“That's... not good.” She muttered.

“What? What's ‘the tower’ card mean?” Kat requested, picking it up.

“It means... breakup. But...” Tara hushed.

“But what?” I gulped.

“I'm not getting that reading. Well, I mean, not fully.” She explained.

“What are you saying?” Kat asked.

Tara trembled. “I feel like, what this card is telling me, is that you and Colby aren't really gonna break up, but something is gonna come between the two of you. Something... dark.”

“What does that mean?” I murmured cautiously.

“I don't know. But something is gonna come and ruin, possibly end, what you guys have.” Tara insisted. “But it feels deeper than just a break up. It feels like...”

“Like a what, Tara?” I barked.

She whimpered. “A death.”

<< CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 14 >>

#colby brock #colby brock x oc #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic #colby brock vampire #vampire #the chosen daughter #colby brock angst #colby brock story #katrina stuart #tara yummy

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another-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Tactics

Summary: You and Bucky can’t take a hint.

What can I say? I’m a sucker for the simple, straightforward cheese.

Your foot tapped the floor of the lift impatiently as you rode up to your floor of the compound, arms stuffed in the pockets of your coat as you relished in the warmth of the building, ears and fingertips still red and stinging from the New York winter.

The black dress and new heels you had been saving for this very occasion hadn’t been worth it and it was for that reason, you realised, you felt disappointed with how the night had gone. It wasn’t the restaurant, or the portion sizes of the food (though you had been hungry from about ten minutes after you had finished eating), or perhaps even your actual date. Just that the effort had resulted in a waste of time.

You weren’t generally a completely confident person; you were content with how you looked, you just wished that … you looked better. But tonight while you were getting ready, you readily admitted to yourself that this was a rare occasion where you looked really good.

When you entered the common area, you weren’t surprised to hear that your fellow teammates were still awake. You heard Bucky and Tony in the kitchen. You almost drooled at the smell of Alfredo sauce wafting though the air.

‘So it sucked?’

You quirked your eyebrow at Tony’s remark. ‘How did you know?’

Tony shrugged half-heartedly as he took a sip from his mug. ‘He’s a dick, I could tell.’

You smirked, unable to argue. ‘If you knew, why did you let this happen?’ you half-cried, making Bucky snicker.

‘Would I actually have been able to stop you?’

You opened your mouth wordlessly for a moment. ‘I- p-probably,’ you managed lamely.

Tony shook his head, waving sardonically as he left. ‘You’ll live,’ he hollered over his shoulder.

You sighed and shrugged your coat off and tossed it on the side of the nearest chair. Bucky smirked as he focused on the pot on the stove, sleeves of his henley pushed back to his elbows.

‘So … good night then?’ Bucky tried.

‘It wasn’t good and it wasn’t terrible. I can barely remember it.’

‘Oh that’s so much worse.’ Bucky shook his head and lowered the stove.

You hummed in agreement. ‘What are you making? I’m starving.’

‘Reheating Sam’s leftovers he really wanted but was too slow to call dibs on,’ Bucky replied nonchalantly. ‘You want some?’

‘Is there enough?’ you asked, smile taunting your lips. ‘I know your diet, I’m pretty sure you eat enough that equates to the body weight of the average manatee.’

Bucky choked on his breath, emitting a brilliant laugh. ‘What?’

You snickered at his response. ‘I’d love some.’

‘Where’d you guys go?’

‘Some sushi place upstate,’ you replied, tying your hair back in a loose bun at the nape of your neck and pouring water out for the both of you. ‘I don’t have anything against sushi but we didn’t eat a lot and he made it pretty clear from the start he was gonna foot the bill so I just let him take over.’

Bucky frowned as he divided out the pasta into two plates; you noticed that there was significantly more in the one he handed to you and you smiled gratefully.

‘Sounds like a jackass,’ he managed around a mouthful of food.

‘He …’ Your defence faltered as you unsuccessfully stifled a smirk. ‘He wasn’t terrible, just … dominant. I think he had a superiority complex.’

You flicked the floor lamp on evening out the light with that coming from the kitchen and sunk back into the sofa.

‘So … a jackass,’ Bucky repeated.

You chuckled and licked some stray sauce from your lip. ‘This is so good by the way, Sam’s gonna kill us.’

‘I mean he’ll try.’

You laughed. ‘Believe me, Barnes, you’re second on his hit list from the time you held Redwing hostage.’

‘Just second? I’m insulted.’

‘You lost out to the guy who took his wings for a joyride. It was a tough decision.’

Bucky snickered and the both of you relished in the comfortable quietness that settled until he felt a strange sense of guilt.

‘For what it’s worth, ‘m sorry your date sucked.’

You shrugged and hummed appreciatively as you ate. ‘’s okay,’ you replied uneasily. ‘It’s not like I got attached to the guy …’

Bucky frowned. ‘But?’

You felt your cheeks heat up. ‘Nothing,’ you replied.

‘But …’

‘Buck, I’m serious,’ you laughed almost nervously under his comically suspicious stare. You held his gaze for approximately five minutes before you felt your resolve start to crack. ‘’s embarrassing,’ you groaned eventually, digging the point of your heel into the ground and setting your half-full plate on the coffee table in front of you.

‘No more embarrassing than accidentally calling Steve dad.’

You and Bucky stared at each other for a moment, the anecdote hanging in the air.

‘Scott?’

‘Scott.’

You smiled weakly; the story usually would have had you doubled over and laughing in the most unattractive way. You leaned back into the couch, sinking into the cushions and slumping with your legs stretched out, holding the base of your glass over your stomach. It felt so good especially after sitting up in an uptight high-end restaurant with an uptight high-end CEO.

Bucky smiled warmly at your posture; it was almost comical seeing you dressed to the nines with your make up still intact, slouched back as if you were in the middle of a binge-watch. The dim glow from the kitchen highlighted half of your face, and the low light from the floor lamp shrouded the room in a warm layer of comfort. He had noticed fairly quickly that you hated bright lights at night.

You groaned self-deprecatingly. ‘I mean, I just want to settle down. I think I want to get married one day,’ you mumbled quietly, though the silence in the room made it so that your voice was clear and loud as day.

Bucky didn’t seem thrown by your confession. ‘Why’s that embarrassing?’

You fixed him with a stare: Seriously? ‘Because it’s … I don’t know.’

‘’s very eloquent of you.’

‘Bucky,’ you groaned, slumping to the side and leaning against the armrest.

‘What’s so bad about that?’ he asked, a nervous laugh wavering his voice, trying to diminish any tension you felt.

You shrugged, even though you knew the answer to his question. ‘Just feels weird to want something like that, doing what we do.’

‘Take it from the hundred-year old guy who’s in his twenties,’ Bucky smirked, ‘you’re allowed to want normal things.’

The corners of your mouth twitched into a small smile, appreciating his humour. ‘Thanks. ‘m sorry if I made things all serious and stuff.’

‘[Y/N], it’s fine,’ Bucky chuckled at your posture (lack of posture?). ‘But … you weren’t pinning all of this on that guy, were you?’

You lifted your head, eyes widening and brows creasing at the ridiculousness of his question. ‘God, no,’ you declared, the dramatics of your voice making Bucky’s eyes soften fondly at your quirk. ‘It’s not like I got my hopes up for a first date with a guy I don’t know but … I want it to happen one day.’

Bucky nodded in understanding. ‘So if it’s not a dominant CEO with a superiority complex -’ you snorted ‘- then what are you looking for?’

You shrugged again, feeling as though you were under a spotlight; as if moving away from it, you gathered yours and Bucky’s plates and moved towards the kitchen, gesturing for him to keep sitting when he moved to help you.

‘I dunno, what does anyone look for? Just a guy with common sense.'

‘Allow yourself one luxury,’ Bucky called from the armchair.

‘If you don’t think common sense is a luxury, you clearly haven’t dated much.’

Bucky smirked. ‘I don’t know whether now’s a good time to brag or not.’

Perching on the arm of the sofa next to him, you ran your hands through your hair, feeling second-hand embarrassment at yourself, unable to stop thinking of the last few hours.

‘You have rights.’

‘True, I don’t think I ever dated anyone who lacked common sense -’

‘Shut up,’ you groaned. ‘In my defence, I didn’t pick him, this wasn’t my choice.’

‘Who set you up - Sam?’

‘Natasha. I didn’t think it would be this bad.’

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, as though he was both confused and in thought.

‘Wouldn’t have thought so either, myself,’ he said.

You could practically see the gears turning in his head, and suddenly felt as though you were on the same wavelength.

‘Because Nat’s not bad at anything,’ you said, the realisation evident in your voice. ‘Which means she set a bad date on purpose.’

‘And not that it’s important, but I’d like to know how she knows a douchey CEO anyway,’ he added.

Why would she do that? you wondered. It wasn’t as if you were hurt per say, but the chances of Natasha screwing you over accidently in the dating department were incredibly slim. So what was the point?

‘Natasha’s not spiteful,’ you said. ‘Like, there’s no agenda here or anything.’

‘Maybe there was,’ Bucky said nonchalantly, triggering your mind to worry. ‘Did you steal any of those kale smoothies she has?’

You snorted, wondering whether Bucky was trying to make you laugh or was being dead serious. ‘Those were hers?’

‘She’s suddenly really obsessed with them.’

‘I didn’t take any of her stuff, Barnes.’

‘See, now you broadened it to stuff, which makes me wonder what you have done.’

Natasha couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she retreated back to her room, having had enough of yours and Bucky’s conversation.

‘Maybe Sam dared her.’

‘Why are you so desperate to make Sam part of this?’

She listened to you analyse your date and her potential motives with the same in-depth, manic red string habit you would use for scoping out enemy bases and proximity targets. And she grew further frustrated when Bucky returned with the same energy, strategising with you. You were both enjoying yourselves, rebounding off each other, energising one another.

‘We stole his food, we need leverage.’

‘You stole his food.’

‘You were complicit.’

And she wondered how neither of you had realised how well you went together. Natasha knew that being so direct as to tell both of you this would injure your egoes. She knew that there were underlying feelings between you and Bucky. And listening to your banter with him, and your inability to pinpoint why she would set you up on such an awful date was almost hurtful.

And she wondered what she would try next to get you both to realise how dense you two were being.

#marvel one shot #marvel imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #Bucky Barnes #imagine #one shot #why do you queue like you're running out of time

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yikesharringrove · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! I absolutely love you’re writing, it’s always so creative and fun to read! If it’s not too much trouble could you please do 1 and 7 from the fluff prompt?

Thank you so much! 🥺 getting nice comments about my writing seriously makes my heart so happy.

1: “how much did you drink?”

7: “wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me.”

Prompt List! Request Stuff! Please!

Read on ao3.

So this is actually something from a longer fic I am going to start. I have so many WIPs right now it’s a mess.Modern College au where everyone is queer and everyone is happy. This was super fun to write! The gang plays Never Have I Ever.

Billy knocked on the apartment door.

He had gotten out of work later than he had hoped, shitty customers demanding service a minute before closing, pushing back his closing and cleaning duties almost an hour. It’s fine. He’s fine.

So, he’s the last to arrive at the party.

Jonathan opens the door for him, obviously high as a kite, with a Billy! Hey man! Billy claps him on the shoulder, shuffling past him in the little entryway.

He can hear footsteps running from deeper in the apartment, Steve appearing at the end of the hallway, muttering billybillybillybillybillybillybilly with every step. He jumped into Billy’s arms wrapping his legs around his waist.

“Hi.” His eyes were glazed, and he had a big dopey grin on his face. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, Baby? I missed you too. How much did you drink?”

“Robin’s been making me drinks!” Robin made the best drinks out of the gang, but they were deadly. She could hide copious amounts of the cheapest alcohol ina pretty good cocktail. It helped too that Steve loved the sugary stuff. Billy once made him a daiquiri and he about lost his damn mind. “I’m a drunky little skunky.”

Jonathan was laughing behind them as Billy carried Steve into the kitchen, fixing himself a drink before heading into the living room with the rest of the gang.

“You two make me ill,” Robin deadpanned as Billy sat down in Steve’s empty spot, Steve settling into his lap.

“Rob, if you could quit being home of phobic, that’d be great.” Billy grinned at Robin. Steve was giggling, resting his head on Billy’s shoulder, shoving one of his hands up Billy’s shirt, resting it against his tummy.

“I think they’re sweet together!” Nancy cooed.

“That’s because you dumped Steve in high school and still feel bad about it,” Barb interjected, everyone howling with laughter as Nancy’s face went red.

“Okay, okay. We had a pretty good game of Never Have I Ever going on, we need to get Billy caught up.” Jonathan winked at Billy from across the cozy living room.

“Oh, that’ll be easier. There isn't a lot I haven’t done. Is that why Stevie is so sloshed though?”

“Yeah, Robin may have been targetting him a little.”

“That’s his own fault for telling me SO many DETAILS about all the sex you two have. We also made him take a shot every time he called you ‘Daddy”.” Billy threw his head back and laughed, Steve making a disgruntled sound at Robin.

“Okay, well I’ll join in. Whose turn is it?”

“Mine.” Barb squinted at him. “Well, never have I ever been born in California.” Bily raised his glass at her, tipping it back and taking a drink. It was her girlfriend’s turn next. Alicia didn’t know Billy all that well, so she was silent for a minute, trying to rack her brain until Barb grinned and leaned over to her and whispered something into her ear.

“Never have I ever had a mullet?” She said it as though she was hoping it wasn’t true. Everyone roared with laughter.

“It was only a mullet for like, two months. It was growing out weird!” Billy still took a good-sized gulp. Steve ran his fingers through Billy’s long hair.

“I like the end result just fine, but those two months were, not awesome, Bill.” Billy tried to look as offended as possible. He knew the mullet was a poor moment for him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side!” Steve laughed, putting his hand back in Billy’s shirt. “That’s okay, I forgive you.” They kissed lazily and sloppily.

“Can you two not suck face for like, five seconds?” Robin yelled over them.

“I have an idea!” Jonathan was practically vibrating in his seat. “If they can go one hour without kissing, we all take a shot, if they kiss, they both have to take,” he counted everyone quickly “three shots each.”

“Wait, no! Don’t take kissing away from me!” Steve shrieked indignantly.

“That many shots are gonna fuckin’ kill Steve at this point, I think,” Billy said.

“Then split it up differently, but either way, six shots must be taken.” Jonathan leaned back in his chair and smirked at Billy. “Should we vote on it?”

Robin raised her hand, grabbing Heather’s arm and shooting it into the air as well. Barb laughed and raised hers, Alicia following suit. Jonathan counted hands, Nancy laughing with hers in the air.

“You all are bullies. Mean, homophobic, bullies.” Steve was pouting in Billy’s lap. He was clingy, totally physically affectionate. If taking three shots didn’t kill him, going one hour without kissing Billy certainly would.

“So it’s a deal. Let’s keep playing then! And you two, now kissing.” Robin winked at them, taking her turn. “Speaking of which, never have I ever kissed a boy.”

Everyone except Barb drank, her and Robin high-fiving.

“Fine, fuck you, Buckley. Never Have I ever kissed a girl.” Billy raised an eyebrow. Everyone drank.

It was Steve’s turn. This should be a mess.

“Billy, what’s something I haven’t done?” He loudly whispered. Billy smirked wickedly, leaning forward to whisper into Steve’s ear, throwing a wink to Nancy.

“Never have I ever had a pregnancy scare.” Jonathon and Nancy when matching shades of deep red while everyone laughed.

“I forgot about that! God, you two are straight.” Robing hooted through laughter.

“That was cold, Billy.” They had both joined in on the laughter, Nancy’s breakdown about a missed period well in the past. “I can get you right back though. Never have I ever, had a chlamydia scare.”

“Well played, Byers! I didn’t know I told you about that!” Billy threw back his drink, shifting Steve off his lap to get a refill. Steve whined and clung to Billy tighter. Steve was a fucking barnacle when he was sloshed. Billy sighed and picked him back up, just taking Steve with him into the kitchen.

“When the fuck did that go down?” Heather yelled into the kitchen.

“Before I knew you all. Some guy I had been fucking around with in California told me he had the clap and I had to get tested, but I was fine,” Billy shouted back.

“Whore!” Robin called as he waddled back into the living room. He couldn’t flip robin off, holding two cups in one hand, the other support Steve’s ass. They flopped back onto the couch with very little grace.

“Never have I ever,” Nancy was thinking, biting the inside of her cheek, deciding who she wanted to fuck over. “Um, never have I ever dated someone with blue eyes.” Steve reached for Billy’s fresh drink, but he lifted it out of reach and pressed the water he had brought for Steve into his hand instead.

“Oh, thank you, Bill.”

“Just ‘cause I don’t wanna deal with you yaaking all night.” Steve huffed. “I’m just kidding. I don’t want you to get sick, though.” Steve drank about half the cup, leaned in and kissed Billy.

“YES!” Everyone was cheering.

“We fuckin’ got ‘em!” Jonathan and Nancy high fived.

“They couldn’t even go twenty fucking minutes!” Robin was shrieking.

“I forgot! I forgot!” Steve was red, Billy was just laughing his ass off.

Barb began lining up shot glasses on the table, taking the bottle of shitty vodka Alicia handed her.

“Okay, you can switch it up any way you want, but six must be taken. That was the deal.” She grinned at Billy, he just rolled his eyes.

Billy ended up doing all six shots.

#yikes writes #harringrove #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #prompt fic #prompt fill #harringrove prompts #harringrove prompt fill #harringrove prompt list

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centipedall · 4 years ago

Text

Pipe Guy

Ok, I’ve officially lost track of how many times this thing has got me. It’s somewhere between twenty-five and infinity. Well, I mean, not infinity, since that’s not a real number, but whatever. Anyways, it’s a lot.

So, uh, you ever have one of those dreams where the same thing happens over and over again? Cause that’s pretty much my life now. I get up from the chair in the upstairs office, walk around, and after some random amount of time, I get gotten by the thing roaming around my house. It usually takes about an hour or two- unless it “sees” me or I’m trying to reach the front door, in which case it goes into overdrive. Somehow, the thing knows when I wanna go to the door, and the moment I think about making my move it snatches me again. I never really feel anything when it gets me; in fact, I’m pretty sure it resets me when I’m asleep too. (And yes, I need to sleep and eat and get water. It usually stays its hand for a little longer when I make food.)

Good news is, I can just make food and sit in the armchair. If I close my eyes, I won’t even notice the resets. Bad news is, I can’t leave the house, or signal outside of it. For some reason, the model doesn’t have windows. And food’s running low. And I haven’t shown up to work for a week, either, so I’m broke. And bills were supposed to come a few days ago, so that’s triple screwage for me.

But it’s okay. I think I have a plan.

I stood up from the couch, immediately going to the office door to open it. Next up: bedroom and bathroom doors. You never know, y’know? Okay. Downstairs we go. Bathroom, laundry room, storage room. Sweet. Into the kitchen now. I’m gonna open- wait. Well that’s odd. I coulda sworn I had a backdoor. Oh well. And now I have to- WAIT SHIT NO NOT NOW YOU SON OF A BITCH! I’m not going to the door!

Dick.

So. That’s aggravating. Whatever. I got this. Not even really a setback, y’know? I can still do my thing. Okay. Calm down. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I sat there for a few minutes, lowering the heart rate. Then, my eyes snapped open. It’s game time.

I got up from the couch and looked around. Nothing. I listened for the freak’s telltale sound. You ever heard a sump pipe in motion? ‘Cause it’s kinda like that. But squirmier.

Anyways, I heard nothing. Sweet. I walked downstairs, pausing every couple of seconds to look and listen. Alright. Still good. I’m still rolling. After a few cautious minutes, I stepped into the storage room.

It’s a small room, made smaller by the cardboard boxes lining the walls. In the middle is a shelf, with a couple more boxes on it. Most of the stuff in here is my roommate’s. His name is… uh… Brad. Hey. Why isn’t he here? Going out to get groceries couldn’t have taken that long, right?

Whatever. I gotta focus. I grabbed a small lamp, about a foot and a half long, from inside one of the boxes in the center, near the back of the room. I took off the shade and unscrewed the lightbulb. Then, I wrapped the power cord around it. I gripped both hands near the narrow end of the thing, readying myself. Okay. It’s game time.

I thought about opening the front door. About running outside. About rolling around on the spiky weeds that made up my shared yard. About- there you are.

I heard it a second before I saw it, the squirming sump screaming towards me. And it came into the room, blindingly fast. Somehow, I still managed to take in its general design. It was about five feet tall. A full half-foot shorter than me. It was completely naked, with pale, albeit healthy-looking skin around the feet. Above the feet, however, it became progressively worse, becoming covered in acne before the skin died altogether, rotting flesh beginning to peel off of it around its sternum, and maggots appearing a little before that. At the neck, there were only a few scraps of skin left. The same effect, albeit much more rapid, occurred with the arms too. It had short, stubby fingers ending flatly. Again, it rotted as the skin went up the arms, but much quicker, so that they were at the same level of deterioration as the main body by the time the skin reached it.

All of this flesh served to conceal a skeleton made of thick, rusty pipes. I could see traces of condensation along them, droplets wettening the rot around them, making the stink of rot spread even further. And the weirdest feature (albeit not the most horrible) was its head. It floated a few inches above the rusty neck, a tangle of rusty copper pipes. They twisted and winded around each other, space distorting in the center as the pipes seemed to kind of… leave existence. Like they were sucked into a black hole. Before, I had counted about twenty-four distinct ends to the pipes, each one sticking out to form a kind of three dimensional asterisk. With a singularity in the center.

Anyways, I smacked that fucker right in its moldy, rotten gut with my lamp. It keeled over, head bobbing down toward the ground. I ran around the other side of the central shelf, and shoved it down onto the thing in the process.

I sprinted full speed to the front door, adrenaline enhancing my every step. Every stride felt like a minute as I ran for the most terrifying three seconds of my life. I slammed into the door, opening it the moment I hit it.

I stumbled through the open door, and- wait. Well that’s odd. I coulda sworn this door lead outside. All I see is old wood floors, a staircase, and four rotten wooden doors. Whatever. No time to waste. I ran through the rightmost door- right is always right, right?- and entered a twisty, turning hallway. The walls were a nasty cream-white, and felt like they belonged more in an 1800s haunted house than my mid-2000s place. The carpet was wet and moldy, black fuzz on beige shag.

I lost track of the turns I took before I ran into the wall. I frantically looked around for the next turn. Except there wasn’t one. It was a dead end. As I heard the sump roar around the corner, it hit me. I did have windows. I did have a back door. That door did lead outside. This wasn’t my house. It was a goddamn maze. And, before it got me, a low, croaking chuckle escaped from my hoarse throat.

Looks like infinity might have been right after all.

#body horror

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serzhantkris · 5 years ago

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Rebel Yell- 5

Summary: Let’s get something straight: he does not love you. He knows that for sure, because he doesn’t want to scream at you and he doesn’t want to get married, and that’s the only things he knows for sure about people who are in love. And he was doomed to kiss with his fists and scream and be angry and blame everyone but himself for the rest of his life. So, no. Billy did not love you. Billy Hargrove x Hopper!Reader

Word Count: 2599

Warning: sexual situations

Masterlist

The fluorescent lights overhead are a stark contrast to sitting in the dark of Billy’s Camaro. They buzz quietly, obscuring everything beneath with a yellow-ish glow. Benny’s Burgers is almost empty, except for two or three other groups of teenagers who, like you, had come to appreciate the hole in the wall just outside of Hawkins. It was on the way back to town, between the trailer and the drive-in, and Billy had stared at the building with trepidation before you took his hand and led him inside.

The table was a little wobbly, but it didn’t stop Billy from leaning with his elbow on it as he plucked fries from the paper-lined basket in the middle of the table. He was eyeing you carefully as you stood a few feet away, jamming down the button on the jukebox to skim through Benny’s records.

Leaning forward, he took a long drink from the vanilla shake in front of him as you slid quarters into the machine and punched in the number. The jukebox was quiet, but he could still make out the sound of Bob Seger’s voice drifting through the old speakers. You slid into the chair opposite him, glancing out the window at the near-empty parking lot as flecks of water hit the glass.

Billy looks around the restaurant. “You didn’t tell me you were takin’ me to a shithole.”

“Hey,” you jam a finger at him pointedly. “This is the midwest, Billy. Shithole is our whole aesthetic.”

Billy rolls his eyes, plucking another fry between his fingertips. “That didn’t sound like a disagreement.”

“It’s charming. You know, like you,” you say, reaching for one of your own, swiping it through the top of your shake. “And it has the best milkshakes in town, and that’s what you were looking for, wasn’t it?”

Billy blinks incredulously at you. “Did you just dip your french fry in your milkshake?”

“Uh, yeah? Everyone does that.”

“No,” Billy snorts. “They don’t.”

“They do in Indiana and New York,” you argue, doing the same with another fry. “Since I’ve never been anywhere else, that’s ‘everyone.’”

“New York?”

Nodding, you repeat the action with a third fry, but this time, you hold it toward him. He shakes his head, leaning back from you with his nose scrunched. “One french fry, Hargrove.”

A sigh falls past his lips and he leans forward, letting you put it between his teeth. Chewing slowly, he makes an unsure face and sits back in his seat. “You been to New York?”

“Lived there,” you mumble, wrapping a hand around the cool glass. Condensation runs between your fingers. “Up until about five years ago.”

“What for?” Billy shifts in his seat. “I mean, why’d you move?”

The glass freezes your hand and you grip it a little tighter, taking a long drink to avoid looking at Billy. “Divorce, mostly.”

A pain shoots to Billy’s temple that has nothing to do with the cold shake on his tongue. He swallows it, hard, and his fingers tap absently on the table. “So, your mom. She’s still in New York?”

You nod, reaching for a napkin to dry the glass. “What about you? What brings you to Podunk, Indiana?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He’s listening to the crackling of Night Moves, counting breaths between guitar chords. “My dad wanted to move. So we did.”

The look on Billy’s face stops you from pressing further. The sudden need to know more about him is overwhelming, and the straw in your mouth is the only thing slowing you down. “Okay,” you sigh, pushing the shake forward. “Hamburgers or pizza?”

Billy’s eyes found your face again. “What?”

“Hamburgers or pizza,” you repeat. Billy twirls a french fry between his fingers. “This is me getting to know you. Without asking for a tragic backstory. I’m not ready to find out you’re Batman.”

He smirks, subconsciously dipping the french fry in his shake before tossing it in his mouth.

“I fucking knew it.”

“Shut up.”

~~~~~~~~

Streaks of water paint the outside of the window as the rain comes down on Benny’s Burgers. It’s almost louder than the jukebox, spitting out music in a buzzing hum. The quiet chatter of the chef and waitress is muted by the swinging kitchen door. The diner has all but emptied out, leaving you and Billy alone in the dining room.

Neither of you really knew how long you had been sitting there, tossing questions back and forth as you scooped your fries through your shakes- sometimes reaching over the table to steal some of each other’s flavor.

Now, though, the two of you fill the diner with your laughter as you suck down the last of your milkshake, pulling your bottom lip in your mouth to get the whole taste. Billy wraps his hand around the top of his empty glass, toying with the straw between two fingers as he thinks up a question.

“Okay,” he finally says, pushing the glass aside. He leans forward on his elbows, hands clasped together and a serious look smoothing out his eyebrows. “Serious question this time.”

On the other side of the table, you can’t help but giggle. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be serious.” He continues to stare at you and you let out another laugh, covering your mouth with your hand and clearing your throat. “Okay, okay. Ask me your question.”

He waits for you to put your hand in your lap. “Tell me about Kurt Kelley.”

You frown. “This again? Billy-”

“Listen, if I’m gonna hear rumors about you when I’m in the shower, they better at least be accurate ones.” The serious expression doesn’t leave Billy’s face, even if his words make you want to smile or roll your eyes. You look at the table, where the paper-lined basket is empty and stained with grease.

“Nancy Wheeler is one of my best friends,” you start, pinching the paper between your fingers, just for something to do with your hands. “She asked me to go with her to Steve’s for this- this get together, or whatever. It was just us and Steve, Tommy and Carol, and Kurt. And our friend, Barbara.”

You inhale sharply, hoping Billy doesn’t notice the hesitant way you included Barbara in the list. But he doesn’t even blink, silently listening with his eyes trained on your face.

“Eventually everyone split up. Steve and Nancy, Tommy and Carol- you know how it is. And we’d been swimming, you know, so Kurt gets me to go inside with him to get towels. Next thing I know, he’s kissing me-”

Billy’s hands clenched.

“And I shoved him off, called him an asshole, and walked home, still dripping wet. I left, and he told everyone that I was a prude bitch. Which of course over time turned into variations of me being either stuck up or a slut.”

He’s quiet for a second, but there’s no mistaking the hard glint of anger in his eyes. “He’s a fuckin’ prick. Some guys can’t handle rejection.”

You smirk, looking up at him. “Some guys? What about you?”

Billy snorts through his nose. “Most of the time, I shrug it off and ask someone else. Eventually someone says yes.”

“Most of the time?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rolling a torn bit of napkin in his fingers. “Sometimes I corner them behind dumpsters.”

Billy smiles to himself when you laugh, his heart slowing down just the slightest. He made a mental note that if he ever ran into Kurt Kelley, he’d give him a kiss with his fist.

“Shit,” you mumble. “It’s late.”

Billy swivels in his chair, following your gaze to the clock hanging over the door. It’s 9:52, and there’s no way you’re getting home by ten. He turns, reaching in his jacket pocket. Crumbled bills hit the table as you both clamor to your feet, shuffling through the empty diner to the door. The bell jingles as you step out and under the awning, the sound of rain beating on the fabric replacing the muffled music. The two of you stand still, watching the rain as a car drives past.

“I’ll race you,” you elbow him in the ribs and he rolls his eyes, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

“You’re gonna get soaked anyway.”

“Yeah,” you hum, the grin spreading from ear to ear as Billy fixed the collar of his jacket. If you kept smiling like this, your cheeks were going to burst. “But not as much as you if you don’t win!”

Billy’s about to ask what the hell you’re talking about, but you’ve already snatched the keys out of his hand and took off, running through the rain toward the driver’s side of his car, fully intending to leave him locked out in the rain. Billy’s boots splash through puddles as he chases after you, the rain soaking him to the bone even through the denim.

You barely reach the door when Billy grabs your shoulder, spinning you around and slamming your back against the car door. The keys fall onto the wet pavement, but neither you nor Billy notice. His mouth is on yours, the kiss wet from rain and tongues. One of his hands catches the back of your head, holding you against him. His fingers curl as his body presses against you, pinning you between him and the car. Your heart beats faster and harder than the rain coming down on your heads when he grinds his hips against you.

He pulls back, just enough to get his breathing under control, his forehead pressing against yours. Small spurts of cold air tangle between you, keeping you connected as Billy’s free hand reaches past you to fumble for the door handle.

“Told you you’d get soaked if you lost,” you mumble, gripping the lapels on his jacket. He kisses you again, harder, tugging you away from the door as he yanked it open.

“Get in the fuckin’ car.”

The windows are already starting to fog over when your back hits the seats. Billy throws the soaking denim jacket over the front seat, kicking his shoes off as he clamors into the back with you.

Billy hovers, taking a careful look at you as he leans down, one arm holding him up as a leg slips between your thighs. There’s not enough room- never is enough room in a car- but he makes it work, skimming the other hand to rest on your thigh under your skirt. His hand is cold and water from his hair drips on your face and neck.

He dives down, getting a taste of the rain and milkshake on your lips. “This what you want?” His voice is deeper, more gruff than before, and as his mouth leaves yours, he finds your eyes with his. You nod, suddenly shy despite having been perfectly willing to let him rub himself on you outside the car.

His hand glides higher, resting carefully over your underwear. Involuntarily, your hips twitch toward his hand and he grins, bending down again to press careful, tender kisses along your jaw. His lips drag along the bone to just below your ear.

“Something tells me that’s not rain,” Billy’s thumb brushes over the wet spot that’s forming on your underwear, earning a whimper when he presses against your clit. “You’re so wet. Were you thinking about me in the diner?”

Your hand flies up to tangle in his hair, tugging gently as he lowers his head, lips and teeth nipping at the side of your neck. “Billy, please-”

“Please what?” His tongue runs along a vein in your throat, soothing the pain from his teeth. His thumb presses harder against you, rubbing circles over your clothed clit. Your forehead hits his shoulder, mouth agape as he grabs the fabric and pulls it to the side.

Two of Billy’s fingers prod at you, teasing your opening as you squeeze him between your knees. He chuckles to himself, sliding the fingers into you. Your moan fills the car, hitting the fogged windows and filling Billy’s ears.

“What do you want, baby?” The car is filled with the sound of his fingers fucking you. Your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into the dark, wet fabric of his shirt.

His hand pulls away, leaving you abruptly cold, and you groan against his collarbone. He chuckles deep in his throat, his chest vibrating, and you decidedly have had enough of his teasing.

He’s startled when you shove him back onto his heels, one hand grabbing the back of the seats to steady himself. You silently thanked God for Billy’s inability to button his shirt as you reach for him, letting your hands run down his damp chest to his belt. He grabs onto either side of your head, kissing you deep as you unfasten it, shoving the denim as far down his hips as the position he’s sitting in will allow.

You swallow his moan as you wrap a hand around his erection, swiping a thumb over the head. His hips jerk toward you, desperate for more as your hand moves in long, languid strokes.

“I want,” your words are muffled against Billy’s mouth, his lips parted, tongue flicking out to taste the words leaving your lips. “I want you to fuck me, Billy.”

A growl shoots up Billy’s throat, his hands pushing your head back until both of you fall onto the seats. The cold metal of his pendant hits your collarbone, but Billy is warm, his body holding you tightly between him and the Camaro’s leather. He grabs your leg, fingers digging into your flesh as he shoves it out of the way to fit his body all the way between your knees.

The free hand pushes your underwear aside. The tip of him slides against you, slippery and wet, and Billy reaches down to grip himself, and a second later his hips jerk. He fills you in that one thrust, pushing the air out of your lungs and into his kiss. He’s big, and the bite of having him so suddenly disappears when he starts to move against you.

Billy’s wet hair sticks to your skin, strands of it licking your cheeks, some of it tangled in your hand. You grip the wet shirt, twisting the fabric in clenched hands as his hips snap against you. The leather seat slides under you, but Billy keeps you both from falling with a sturdy hand planted on the car floor.

It’s messy, Billy’s thrusts filling the ache in your belly and your moans hitting the foggy windows; his mouth tasting the rain and sweat along your throat until he buries his face in your collarbone. His thrusts are a drum beat solo, every plunge of his cock inside you hits you like a snare.

“Billy- Billy-“ His name tastes like vanilla and salt on your tongue, burning in your throat. You legs squeeze him and you can feel him smile against your skin, that tongue flickering against his lips as you come. The drumbeat is lost when his teeth nip at your skin, fingers digging into where he has his hold on your hip. His heavy breathing turns to pleading grunts as he thrusts just a little harder, strokes just a little shorter. You cling to him when he comes, suddenly more desperate than you had been while he was fucking you.

Billy remains still for a long moment, his ear pressed against your sternum. Listening to the erratic flicker of your heart, nothing exists beyond the confines of these leather seats.

Taglist Open

@william-hargroves @killer-queen-xo @sallyp-53 @cloverrover @scud994 @nighttwingg @yaidothat @abiwebb12 @camillewester @vespertxne @potatoheadthewise @tearsforhan @leedelee14 @crowned-gemini @ericuhlorain @frozenhuntress67 @chloe-skywalker @thatpunkmaximoff @elishaletterman @winchestersister55

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy x reader #stranger things #billy hargrove imagine

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geeky-writes · 5 years ago

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The Phoenix Project - Story Preview

Superfamily, Alternate Universe

Clearing his throat, Steve squeezed Sam’s shoulder as he raised his glass in the air, nodding at Sam, Carol, and Bucky to do the same.

“To Riley,” he said, clear and true.

“To Riley,” the rest said simultaneously before all four of them downed the contents of their glasses. Steve grimaced as the sharp liquor burned its way down his throat, fighting against the urge to cough. He wasn't that much of a drinker, especially of the hard stuff, as Bucky liked to call it, but out of respect for Sam he hadn't protested when Sam had ordered five rounds of what had been Riley’s favourite brand of whisky.

“So, have you been out to see the kid yet?” Carol asked once she set her glass down, waving the waitress over for another. “How old is he now?”

“Yeah, I just saw him yesterday when I brought Riley’s stuff out to Erin. I think he’s six months now? Something like that. Looks just like Riley too, poor kid.”

“Mmm. And how’s Erin doing?”

Sam gave a shrug, downing his second glass of whisky so fast the waitress barely had a chance to set it down.

“Eh, you know how it is. The kid keeps her pretty busy, probably helps keep her mind off of things, ya know? Keeps her from dwelling on it.”

“Yeah, that’s what Maria always says too,” said Carol. “She calls Monica her anchor all the time, says she would've been lost without her.”

“Yeah, I guess I can see that.” Sam let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “I dunno, it all just kinda sucks though.”

“Yeah, it does,” agreed Bucky. “Kinda almost makes me wanna take a shot at them every once in a while. Let them see what it’s like for a change.”

“Yeah, but that’s the same kind of thinking that got us into this whole damn mess in the first place,” said Sam. “It’s not a matter of who shot first anymore, it’s all about who keeps shooting.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to Riley’s wife and kid,” Bucky snapped, slamming his glass down onto the table so hard that Carol jumped. “At some point you just gotta either say stop, or fight back. This whole constant patrolling thing is just a massive waste of resources.”

“Well, isn't that what this newfangled thing we're starting tomorrow is supposed to address?” asked Sam. “The next phase, or some shit like that?”

Carol scowled, shooting Steve a questioning look. “Yeah, I guess so. You okay there, Cap?”

“Oh, yeah,” replied Steve, plastering on a smile he had no doubt that Carol could see right through. “Just a bit tired, you know? I was at Ma’s house all last weekend trying to help her out. Her arthritis has gotten pretty bad lately, so I’ve been trying to fix up some stuff around her house to help make things easier on her.”

“Yeah, well, tell her I said hi next time you talk to her, okay?” said Carol as she glanced at the timepiece fastened around her wrist. “I’m already late to meet James.”

“Will do.”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna get going too, Steve,” said Sam, nudging him in the arm. “I got some stuff to go over before we start that fancy new class tomorrow.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Bucky as he rapidly downed his third glass of whisky. “See ya tomorrow, Steve.”

“Sounds good,” said Steve. “See you guys then.”

As soon as he was alone Steve dropped his chin to his chest, gripping his head between his hands. He had been trying to hide it from his friends, but Riley’s sudden death seven days ago had thrown him for a pretty big loop, one that he hadn’t yet managed to shake. It had been just another routine mission, scouting the skies above Langara in the new X-301 aircrafts with Sam and Riley, something they had all done too many times to count, when, while testing out the banking arc, Riley had pulled back just a split-second too late, ending up just a hair over the hardline DMZ.

And the very moment the tip of his wing tripped that invisible barrier, the enemy’s automated anti-aircraft defence system kicked in and he was immediately taken out, the resulting fireball so blinding that Steve almost flew head-on into Sam before he was able to recover.

Steve shuddered as he recalled the searing heat of that fireball, and the shock that he’d felt at seeing someone he’d spent nearly every single day with for the last three years suddenly vanish, and being completely and utterly helpless to stop it.

It was like Sam had said; that they had been up there just to watch.

And now there was yet another Langaran test-pilot widow, and yet another Langaran child growing up without a father.

Just like he had.

It took him a few more seconds to realise that none of the others had bothered to leave any credits behind for their drinks, something that brought a slight smile to Steve’s face as he dug into his back pocket, peeling off the required number of bills and laying them on the table. He’d get them all back the next time.

In fact, if his memory was correct, and it always was, Bucky had managed to skip out on paying the last three times, something Steve would be sure to pass along to Sam once he saw him again.

Getting to his feet, Steve grabbed his worn brown leather jacket and slung it over his shoulder, checking his timepiece on his way out the door. It was only 1600, and since he’d already completed his aircraft double-check and filed his mission report for the day, that meant he had plenty of time to make one of his hospital visits before he returned to the barracks for dinner.

Outside the sun was shining, the autumn air crisp and cool as Steve mounted his motorcycle and took off in the direction of the base hospital, smiling as he felt the breeze whipping across his face and through his hair. He never bothered with a helmet, something he knew drove his ma mad with worry, but he had always rather enjoyed living a bit dangerously, and since he had been driving motorcycles even longer than he’d been flying aircraft, Steve figured he didn't need to worry about a helmet.

Especially since he had driven out to that hospital so many times he likely could’ve done it in his sleep.

“Hey, Sharon,” Steve said as he arrived on the paediatric floor, smiling fondly at the pretty, blonde-haired nurse sitting at the nurses’ station. “How’re you doing today?”

“Hey, Captain!” Sharon replied, shooting Steve a quick smile. “It’s always good to see you. How’s it going over on the flight deck?”

A stab of pain pierced Steve’s heart, one that he pointedly ignored. He didn't feel like talking about Riley’s death yet again.

“Oh, you know,” he said quickly. “Patrols and more patrols. I’m starting a new class tomorrow though, so maybe things’ll get switched up a bit.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds like fun,” said Sharon. “So, you here to see someone?”

Steve gave a nod. “Yeah, thought I’d stop by and see what Tyler’s been up to. Is he still here?”

“Actually, he’s not,” answered Sharon. “He finally turned a corner about three days ago and was just discharged earlier this morning. The doctors expect him to make a full recovery.”

“Aw, that’s wonderful!” Steve exclaimed, even as he felt a pang of regret. He had really enjoyed getting to know Tyler.

“I’m just sorry that I didn't get to say goodbye to him.”

“Yeah, especially with the nasty type of pneumonia that he had,” Sharon said with wide eyes. “Kids really are resilient, you know?”

“Yeah, they sure seem to be,” said Steve. “Is that why you love working with them so much? ‘Cause they’re resilient?”

“Oh gods yes,” Sharon said, nodding swiftly. “That, and they don't complain about stuff nearly as much as adults do.” She gave her keyboard a tap and grabbed another chart off the counter, one that was so thick that its binding was starting to fray. “There is another kid who just came in early this morning, though, and I’d wager that he would really appreciate some company. Especially from a hotshot pilot like yourself.”

“Oh? What’s his name?”

“Peter,” said Sharon. She tucked the chart to her chest and leaned forward, lowering her voice. “He’s got a pretty bad heart, poor kid, and when he came in this morning… well… if I ever have to see another kid’s face that awful shade of blue ever again, it’ll be way too soon.”

Steve winced, crossing his arms across his front. “How bad is he?”

“Pretty bad.” Sharon huffed out a sharp breath as she bit her bottom lip, lowering her voice even further. “I’m not really allowed to talk about his family, but… let’s just say that he needs a pretty expensive operation, but there’s a lot of mitigating circumstances out there that are muddying the waters. It just sucks because he doesn’t deserve any of it, you know? And yet he’s still the one that’s suffering for it.”

Anger welled up inside Steve’s gut, so strongly that it almost frightened him. He hadn't even met the child and yet already felt very protective of him. “Okay, but you're not saying that his parents—that they’re—?”

“Oh no, that’s not it at all,” Sharon assured him. “I don't think I’ve ever seen a more overprotective father than this kid’s dad. I mean, the only reason he’s not in there with him right now is because he was afraid that he’d get fired. It’s just… well… you know our government, right? I mean, you're around part of it every day, so…”

“Just the military part,” said Steve. “I don't really know much about what goes on in the civilian aspect.”

“Well… like I said. It all just pretty much sucks.” Sharon tilted her head, giving Steve a warm smile. “I’m sure he’ll perk up once he sees you, though. He’s a real sweetie, but he’s pretty down at the moment.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m here,” Steve said. He tapped his palm on the counter, returning Sharon’s smile. “Thanks, Sharon.”

“Sure thing.”

Stepping down the hallway, Steve paused just outside the door to Peter’s room, his mind swirling with what Sharon’s cryptic words could possibly mean. What sort of mitigating circumstances could exist that would be murky enough to prevent a child from getting a potentially life-saving surgery, especially if he was as bad off as Sharon made it sound?

And she had only mentioned the boy’s father, so did that mean he didn't have a mom? Or that the mom wasn't involved?

Ultimately Steve knew it really wasn't any of his business, but yet he couldn’t help but wonder.

Inhaling a deep breath, Steve gently knocked on the door.

“Come in?” a small voice responded, weak and timid.

Stepping inside the room, Steve was greeted by a young boy, maybe ten or eleven years old, with probably the biggest and sweetest brown eyes that he had ever seen, partially hidden by a mop of brown curls that hung across his forehead. The boy’s skin was ghostly pale, nearly as white as the various bandages covering the three separate intravenous tubes, but he smiled kindly as Steve approached him, letting out a weak, wet cough as he raised his hand to wave hello.

“Hello,” he said, tilting his head as his eyes narrowed. “I’m Peter.”

“Hello Peter,” said Steve, attempting a smile. This boy was far, far sicker than Tyler had ever been, and Steve wasn’t quite sure he was comfortable with that yet. “My name is Steve.”

“Hi Steve,” said Peter. “You're not another doctor?”

“No, I’m not,” answered Steve. “I’m actually a pilot with the Langaran Air Corps.”

“Oh,” Peter said, eyeing Steve suspiciously. “Okay, so then why are you here?”

The prologue for The Phoenix Project will post on Monday, March 23rd, with new chapters posting weekly until the story concludes 😊

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therollingstonys · 5 years ago

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Last Stop Before Malibu

A very happy birthday to my best friend and co-mod, Tina!! Hope you enjoy love!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve leans against the side of the building, watching as cars flow by, the stench of diesel heavy in the air and thick in the back of his throat. For many the travel day is ending as the sun fades, but for Steve, his day is just beginning.

He’s had a few customers already, nothing too fancy, just bathroom blow jobs and handies—nothing that will pay the bills though. He’s hungry and there’s not much left in his fridge, or his bank account, and the fifty bucks in his back pocket won’t do much to pay the rent at the shitty motel he calls home.

Shoving a hand under the rim of his ballcap he runs a hand through his sweat damp hair, nose wrinkling at the sensation—he could use a shower despite the short time he’s been out here. It’s August in the desert and that means sneakers melting on hot asphalt and two showers a day—not that he can afford to use that much water a day.

So he’s hot, and sweaty and maybe a little dehydrated, but he can’t waste his hard earned cash on a drink—not till he’s made at least two hundred bucks.

An eighteen wheeler rolls in and Steve looks up, brows lifting when a woman with red hair and curves for miles hops out. She gases up the rig and is joined a few moments later by a man with dark hair and the oddest looking prosthetic arm Steve’s ever seen—he didn’t know they came in metal.

The man eyes him hungrily when he strides past into the gas station and when he comes back a few minutes later he smirks at Steve on his way past. The couple stands by the rig, shooting him looks before they approach and it’s the woman who does the talking, head tilted at an angle as she studies him.

“How much for us both?” she asks softly, gaze trailing down his body.

“Two hundred.”

It’s said fast, greedily—he’s had others ask for a threesome before and most don’t mind shelling out a little more, so he hopes that holds true for these two. They look well dressed and clean, a lot better than he’s dealt with in the past.

The woman nods and smirks, “Two hundred it is.” She glances around and her gaze lands on the nearby motel, “There,” she murmurs, jerking her chin toward it, “Get a room and we’ll meet you.”

Steve nods and waits till they start to walk away to hurry over to the motel. He pushes the reception door open and is engulfed in cool air that smells like coolant from the machine vibrating under the window.

He smiles at Wanda and baby Peter, “Hey guys,” he says with a finger wave to the little boy, grinning when he laughs and claps happily. “Can I get a room?” he asks Wanda, sliding her a twenty when she hands over a key wordlessly.

She knows how he makes his money and doesn’t judge—her dead husband was the one who found her on the street, strung out and beat up by a bad john. He brought her home, gave her a new life and a baby and then died a month after Peter was born—heart attack.

Steve nods his thanks and waves goodbye to Peter, his laughter bright as the door swings shut behind him. Hot air engulfs him like a furnace and he shifts uncomfortably as the fabric of his shirt sticks to the small of his back.

He unlocks the room door and steps inside just as the eighteen wheeler pulls up. He makes eye contact with the couple and nods before closing the door, pulse skipping faster as he debates stripping and prepping himself.

Some clients like to do it themselves, others prefer it to be done already—and he’s not sure which these two will be.

The door swings open behind him and he turns, jeans half undone and hanging from his hips, to find the couple watching him hungrily. The woman saunters forward and circles him, slides a hand over his back and down to grab his ass and he shivers at the touch, pushes back into it a little.

His gaze is locked with the man’s, dark and hungry and watchful and it makes his gut clench with need. There’s a soft laugh from behind him and then a tongue swipes up the side of his neck, a hum of pleasure following it and then soft lips and softer words brush his ear.

“Oh honey, we’re gonna have such a good time.”

Steve emerges from the hotel room hours later, stiff, sore and tired. He shuffles down to his room and pushes inside, swaying with how exhausted he is. Stripping his sweaty clothes off takes more energy than it should and he almost cries when his shirt gets stuck on his ear for a minute and his hip bangs into the shitty Formica countertop of the bathroom sink, but then he’s free and naked and stumbling into the shower.

He stays in longer than he normally would, letting the water get fully hot instead of just the chilly blast he spends too little time under in the mornings. Leaning against the wall of the shower, he closes his eyes and lets the heat sink into his skin and ease away the aches.

The woman—Natasha she’d called herself—and her partner James had used his body for hours before none of them could go anymore and his body feels every inch the used and wrung out thing it now is.

He’d lost count of how many times he came—the last two had left him sobbing, his cock raw feeling and his prostate so sensitive it hurt. He’s covered in hickies and scratches and his ass aches and it all feels so damn good that if he wasn’t half asleep and wrung dry, he’d be hard.

He stumbles out of the shower when the water turns cold and wipes a towel over his skin before flopping onto the bed, groaning as his aching body protests. The red numbers on his alarm read 12:53am and he stares at them till his lids droop and he sinks into dreamless slumber, drooling into his lumpy pillow.

A wad of cash lays on the bedside table, thick and smelling faintly of strawberry lube—$350–a night well spent and money hard earned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve’s fridge is full, his phone paid up for another month and his room is paid up for two weeks and he still has ten dollars left over so he puts it in the safe he’d bought when he first landed here eight months ago and sighs when he sees the measly amount he’s managed to accrue in that time.

He has plans to go to Los Angeles and get an apartment and work on his art, but it never seems like he’s saved enough. Every month that passes brings a new expense—he still hasn’t managed to finish repairs on his motorcycle, and with every week that passes he’s not sure he’ll ever have enough to get it back to working order.

He’s only earned two hundred dollars in the last three days—a slow week for him. He pays for yet another test at the local clinic to make sure he’s still clean and takes the PREP they give him—most clients are willing to use condoms but he’s been stealthed a few times and he’d rather deal with the side effects than have HIV.

He’s dusty and dirty, coated in grease and sweat as he works on his bike, cursing the wrench as it slips for the third time and his knuckles smack into the sharp edge of the carburetor.

“Shit! Fuck! Fucking piece of shit!”

He rises to his feet and sucks the blood from his knuckles, pulse thrumming as he restrained himself from kicking the damn thing over.

A low chuckle has him spinning to find a man more handsome than a movie star smiling at him, beard trimmed to perfection and eyes bright with amusement from behind tinted sunglasses.

“That’s a thing of beauty, what did she do to you?”

Steve huffs and laughs softly, shaking his head, “Damn bolt won’t loosen,” he says with a wave of his hand toward the bike.

The man nods and then grins, “Mind if I take a look?” he asks taking a half step forward.

Steve looks him over incredulously—his suit looks more expensive than all of Steve’s possessions and cash combined; “You’re gonna ruin your suit,” he points out, waving a hand at himself to make his point.

The man just shrugs and starts taking off his jacket, tosses it over the handlebars and goes to work on his crisp white sleeves. “I’ll buy another,” he says carelessly and then holds his hand out for the wrench dangling uselessly from Steve’s fingers.

Steve hands it over and watches as the man crouches down and starts working the bolt loose by inches, sweet talking to it the whole time in a way that makes Steve’s blood heat in a way that has nothing to do with the sun pounding down on them.

There you go darling, loosen up for me, just like that.

Yea you just need a gentle touch, huh?

Ahhh that’s my good girl, let go for me

Steve turns away, flushed and thirsty, though the water he gulps down seems to do little to actually quench his thirst.

“There we go,” the man says and Steve turns to find him smiling brightly, a pleased look on his face as he holds out the bolt in question. His shirt and forearms are smeared with grease and Steve frowns—he’d warned the man.

“Uh, thanks,” he murmurs, reaching out so the man can drop it into his palm.

The man grins and waves a hand at the bike, “I haven’t seen a 76 Triumph since I was a kid,” he says excitedly, “Where did you find it?”

Steve pockets the bolt and grabs the hem of his tank top, pulling it up to wipe the sweat and grease off his face as he replies, “It was my dad’s. He was a Vietnam vet,” he explains, straightening out his shirt and looking up at the other man in time to see a familiar look of lust pass over his face before it’s replaced with something polite and urbane.

“Very nice,” the man murmurs with a nod, “well, I uh, I should let you get back to it,” he says, hesitating for a second before extending his hand to Steve, “Tony, and uh, thanks for letting me tinker with it.”

Steve takes the proffered hand and is surprised by the calluses—this man seems more like the type to have manicured nails than work roughened palms.

“Uh yea sure, anytime,” Steve murmurs, smiling softly, some soft longing in his gut as the older man starts to walk away, jacket tucked over one arm. He doesn’t want him to leave, and before he can stop himself he steps forward and calls out.

“There’s a great diner about a mile away, has the best shakes and fries,” he blurts, “you wanna grab a bite?”

Tony stares at him for a long moment and then cracks a grin, “I could eat.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They talk over burgers and fries and it’s around the time that Tony’s telling him a funny story about his best friend James that Steve realizes he hasn’t smiled and laughed this much in years.

He likes Tony, a lot more than he should, and more than that, he wants him. The way Tony’s hands move is distracting, enticing thoughts of them on his body and he flushes, trying to pull his attention back to what Tony’s saying.

When he does focus in he realizes that Tony’s smiling at him knowingly, twirling a fry in his fingers.

“So, I hate to be presumptuous, but if I offered to take you back to my hotel to spend the night, would that be more or less expensive than this meal?”

Steve flushes and ducks his chin; there’s something about Tony that makes him weak and hot, desperate feeling. “It uh, it wouldn’t cost anything,” he murmurs, looking up at Tony through his lashes.

Tony’s brows rise for a moment before he smirks and shuffles out of the booth and pulls his wallet out, throws a handful of bills on the table and then cocks his head, “You coming sweetheart?” he asks.

Steve scrambles to his feet without hesitation, limbs feeling gawky and too large for the space they occupy. He follows Tony out to the flashy Audi he’d drove them here in and slides into the seat, pulse fluttering as Tony winks at him and revs the engine before pulling out.

They whip through the night till the town appears on the horizon and then minutes later screech into the parking lot below the building, the cheap fluorescent lights making his skin look golden as they pass beneath them.

It’s quiet on the elevator ride up, tense and heavy with expectation, want building between them like an electric charge. Tony’s hand weighs heavy at the small of his back, guiding him toward the oncoming door.

When it shuts behind them Tony presses him up against the door in a move that leaves his head spinning and guy clenching with need. Dark eyes stare up at him, smiling and hungry, the hand at the base of his throat pinning him in place.

“You know what safewords are?” he demands of Steve, fingers pressing into the skin of his throat, lips curving upward. Steve nods breathlessly, breaths harsh and excited between them, the heat of Tony’s hand searing into him.

“Good, tell me yours then get undressed,” Tony commands and steps back, dark eyes glinting.

“Shield,” Steve gasps, hands shaking as he works the buttons of his shirt open, heart pounding beneath his ribs as Tony walks to the bar and pours himself a drink, gaze never leaving Steve.

It’s a heavy thing, Tony’s gaze, like a warm, heavy blanket and he shivers under it, shoving his worn jeans down after kicking off his boots. He’s naked, exposed, and Tony’s smirking as he moves to sit on the couch, legs spread wide and an arm thrown over the back of the couch.

He’s the picture of indolent pleasure, gaze hooded as he beckons Steve over with a lazy wave of his wrist. It feels like there’s a tug beneath his ribs, a lure pulling him closer, connected to the hand that Tony holds out to him.

He’s aware of every inch of his body from the cool marble beneath his bare feet to the hot heavy weight of his cock between his legs, the hot pool of arousal in his gut making him twitchy and desperate for touch.

He pauses between Tony’s legs and swallows hard, fighting the urge to squirm as Tony sips his scotch and smirks up at him. “My my aren’t you a big boy,” he teases, lifting a brow and giving Steve’s cock a pointed look.

Steve flushes a deeper shade of crimson and ducks his head, shoulders bowing forward as Tony chuckles. “You look so pretty like that darling,” he murmurs, “but why don’t you come here,” he says, motioning toward his lap.

Steve hesitates for a moment and then moves to straddle Tony’s lap, gasping softly when his cock drags over the silk, hips rocking forward into the sensation. Tony’s free hand falls to his hip and steadies him, grinning when Steve whines at the loss of stimulation.

“Now darling, be patient,” Tony murmurs with a soft tutting sound, “I want to play with your pretty cock, you just sit still and be quiet,” he orders. Steve swallows hard and nods, though he can’t hold back his gasp when Tony’s hand closes around his cock.

Tony hushes him again and strokes him just once before stopping to play with the head of his cock peeking out from his foreskin. Steve shudders and bites his lip, holding in his gasps as Tony strokes his thumb over the head of his cock, the pleasure like electric shocks, surging under his skin and up his spine.

Tony watches his face as he pulls back his foreskin slowly, thumb pressing into the tender skin just below the fat head of his cock, and Steve can’t help the gasp that rises from his chest, head falling back at the rush of pleasure in his veins.

It stops abruptly and Steve whines, head sloping back down to find Tony has stopped touching him in favor of sipping his scotch, a smirk playing around his lips. “Wh-why?” he gasps and Tony chuckles, sips his scotch.

“I told you to hush darling, if you can’t do that maybe we should stop,” Tony murmurs, rueful amusement in his voice. Steve shakes his head, desperation roaring through his veins, hips arching in search of pleasure.

Tony chuckles again and sets aside his scotch glass, condensation from the ice shining on the sides of it and then Steve’s gasping and arching as Tony runs a cool, wet finger down his cock.

It’s like ice against his too hot skin and he gasps, shuddering at the sensation. Tony hums softly and does it again, gathers more wetness and trails it over Steve’s cock, watching him writhe with dark hungry eyes.

Steve’s never experienced anything like it; the cool pearls of water drag over his skin, teasing against his heated skin, Tony’s fingers follow behind, scaldingly hot and he’s trapped between wanting to get away from it and wanting more.

He’s not sure how long it continues, all he knows is that it burns and aches, and every time he whines or cries out Tony stops and waits till he’s under control once more to start touching him again.

He’s slick with sweat and harder than he’s ever been before and Tony, Tony is hard in his slacks and watching him eagerly, but makes no move to let him come or touch him further.

Tears blur his vision and he’s panting, chest aching when Tony smirks and pushes him away, off his lap and down onto his knees.

“Stay,” he orders, pausing to smirk at Steve before striding away. Steve listens to him move about in the other room, cock throbbing and aching with every breath he takes.

Tony’s back a moment later with no shirt on, torso bare, trousers riding low on his hips and a bottle of lube in one hand. He motions for Steve to rise and sits back down, “C’mere,” he orders, motioning once more to his lap.

Steve can barely contain the eager noise he makes as he crawls back into Tony’s lap, shaking with the need to be touched. Tony chuckles and wraps a hand around the nape of his neck, “Kissing ok?” he murmurs, pulling Steve down till all that separates their lips is a breath.

He nods eagerly and gasps when Tony closes the distance, kisses him so thoroughly it seems to steal the air from his lungs. He’s dizzy when Tony pulls back, panting as the other man grabs the bottle of lube and slicks his fingers.

The cold touch at his hole makes him shiver and gasp, the sound sharpening into a keen as one finger slides in easily. Tony watches him as he fingers him slowly, slicking the way before he comes back with a second finger and slides it in alongside the first.

Steve keens and gasps as Tony scissors his fingers, opening him up in slow, aching movements. “That’s it sweetheart, open up for me,” Tony murmurs softly, eyes bright and avid on his face.

He finds Steve’s prostate with unerring accuracy and focuses on it, stroking it relentlessly as Steve whines and arches, cock twitching against his belly, leaking pre cum heavily.

“That’s it sweetie, look how nice your cock leaks for me baby,” Tony croons, pressing harder on Steve’s prostate till he’s all but sobbing and can feel the pleasure in his gut growing like a burning ember given oxygen.

Tony is relentless, crooning praise in his ear as his fingers move within Steve with slick movements that drive him slowly crazy. He sobs, the desperation within him to come building to a frenzy, his cock twitching and leaking as it grows relentlessly within him.

“There you go baby, lets make you come from that pretty ass,” Tony croons, his stroking growing harder, faster. Steve sobs and arches, the pleasure growing into an inferno in his gut. He wails, the pleasure crashing into him, hips grinding down into Tony’s fingers as he comes.

He sobs Tony’s name as he writhes, Tony’s fingers still moving inside him, the pleasure sharpening in his gut till it’s like a knife. Tony relents and slows, fingers stilling inside him as he pants and sobs, lashes wet with tears.

His heart thunders in his chest and he barely registers the hand on his face for a few minutes as he gasps, breath hitching in his chest. When he can manage opening his eyes he finds Tony staring at him in wonder, breathing unevenly, hand on his face gentle.

“You are so lovely,” Tony murmurs pulling him down for a kiss that robs him of his remaining breath. He tastes like scotch and heat and Steve sinks into it, buries his hands in Tony’s hair and hangs on as the older man grips his hips tight enough to bruise.

When they break apart neither of them are steady; he can feel Tony’s fingers tremble against his ribs. They tighten and Tony smiles up at him, softer than before, “C’mon big guy, lets go to bed,” he urges, pushing and guiding till Steve’s on his feet, cock still hard between his legs as he’s led to the bedroom.

Tony pushes him back into the bed and he goes willingly, knees falling open, watching with hungry eyes as Tony stares at him, entranced for a moment before he shoves hastily at his trousers and briefs, shucking them off before crawling into the bed and hovering over him.

He kisses Steve greedily, moaning low in his throat, fingers twining through his hair, tugging till Steve moans and arches into him. Steve's panting when they part, moaning when his cock slides alongside Tony’s.

The older man grins and pulls back, leans over and grabs a condom from the bedside, pausing when Steve grabs his wrist. “I...you don’t have to use one,” he murmurs, averting his gaze when Tony looks at him, curious.

“I think I do,” Tony replies, “unless you’ve got proof you’re clean?” he questions.

Steve nods and waves a hand towards the other room, “My phone, I have my test results for the last six months there,” he tells the other man. Tony stares at him for a moment before pulling away, striding into the other room, his ass tight and round, flexing as he goes.

Steve sits up and contemplates his cock—he’s never come like that before, solely from his prostate, and the force of it had left him breathless and aching. Tony seems to know how to play his body, teasing out pleasures he’s never known before.

“Heads up.”

He looks up in time and lifts a hand to catch his cell phone, thumbing at the screen for a few moments before he turns it and shows Tony the test results. The older man studies it and then grabs it, flings it away and presses him into the mattress before he can protest the damage to his phone.

Tony’s hands are firm behind his knees, pushing them up to his chest as he kisses him, desperate and hungry. Steve feels something at his hole and then gasps into Tony’s mouth as he pushes in, hole fluttering as Tony’s cock stretches him open.

It’s thick and hard and hot and he clings to Tony, gasping against his lips, dizzy as he’s taken slowly, Tony’s cock pressing into him, firm and unyielding against his soft insides.

It’s overwhelming, the thick length relentless, until finally Tony’s hips are flush against his and the older man is cursing and panting. Tony kisses him, inelegant and demanding, “Fuck, baby, you’re so good,” he pants, “so tight, fuck.”

He starts rolling his hips, the drag of him over Steve’s prostate sending pleasure firing through his neurons, sparks lighting up in his brain as Tony fucks him.

“That’s it baby, so good,” Tony pants in his ear, “god you’re fucking perfect.”

Tony sucks a mark beneath his jaw and then another and another, one of his hands sliding through the slick sweat on Steve’s chest to toy with his nipples.

Sharp pain shoots through him as Tony pinches and pulls on them, pleasure shuddering through him as Tony fucks him, cock slick and hot between them.

He’s unable to silence the cries that fall from between parted lips, bitten and swollen and slick from Tony’s kisses. Tony seems determined to make him scream, hands traveling over his body, teasing and torturing.

The cock inside him is relentless, driving deep with bruising thrusts that leave him aching and sobbing, begging for more. Tony fucks him harder, teeth closing on his throat as he wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock, stroking hard and fast.

Steve shouts, spine pulled taut like a marionette as pleasure wraps around him, slicing into him like a razor wire embrace.

“That's it baby, come on my cock,” Tony growls in his ear, “god, you’re fuckin perfect,” he pants, thrusts growing wild and harsh.

Steve sobs, “Please, please,” he begs, writhing beneath Tony, more desperate to come than he’s ever been.

“Fuck wish I could stay inside you forever,” Tony says breathlessly, “so hot and tight.” Steve keens as Tony’s hand on his cock tightens, the ache enough to tip him over.

Cum falls in stripes across his chest as he screams and then chokes on the sound, body twitching as Tony pounds into him, hole spasming around his cock.

He barely registers Tony coming, hears his shout and then feels the heat of him as he spills deep inside Steve, hips pumping it deeper till finally the older man collapses onto him, breathing heavily.

Steve floats for awhile, limbs tangled with Tony’s while the sweat on his skin cools. Eventually Tony stirs and kisses his throat, peels himself away and disappears through the door to the bathroom.

He’s back moments later with a warm damp cloth, wipes Steve down before tucking the sheets in around them and pulling them close together. Steve nuzzles into his throat and sighs happily, the warm rush of hormones in his veins making him soft and sweet.

Lips press to his temple and he smiles, falling asleep in gradients, shades of red behind his lids as he sinks deeper into the haze of sleep.

When he wakes the next morning it’s to an empty bed and a note on the bedside table. He picks it up and frowns at the check that slides out and into his lap.

His fingers feel numb as he picks it up and stares at the exorbitant amount of zeros on the paper.

Hands shaking, he picks up the note once more.

Steve,

I know you said it wouldn’t cost me anything, but I want you to have this anyway. Use it to get out of here if you want, fix that bike of yours, go see the world.

Maybe I’ll see you in Malibu sometime.

Tony Stark

Steve sits for a very long time, a little numb, as his brain races.

He’d slept with Tony Stark.

Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…

And that man had just paid his way out of this shitty little town.

Tapping the check against his lips, Steve grins slowly.

He’s always wanted to see Malibu.

#steve x tony #stevetony #Steve Rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #truck stop hooker!steve #not family friendly #happy birthday tina!!!#steve rogers x tony stark #stony #i know the pictures disrupt the flow of the story but they're necessary ok??

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