#I just knew he wasn’t alright but I didn’t want to make assumptions or have anyone saying that I act like I know everything :( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevesworld96 · 1 year

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look at me now (part two)

--- steve harrington x fem!reader

steve visits you before the vecna fight.

childhood friends to strangers to lovers. this is a more realistic look at developing a relationship with steve, set in canon while you know nothing about the monsters, or the nightmares, or all of his scars.

a fic about knowing steve before, during, and after the events of the upside down. including all the ways your friendship with him grows, wilts, then grows again - to blossom into something he probably doesn’t deserve.

tags: fem reader, no use of y/n, childhood friends, kissing, cliches, a lot of emotions, depression and suffering etc, mentions of death and injuries, steve retells canon events and deaths, codependent steve and robin, steve is so so so so so so so sad. hawkins doesn't get destroyed after the vecna fight - everything else follows canon

please read both parts, i worked so hard on this fic and i'm really proud of it :)

part one!!!

word count: 9280

Steve didn't call you the next morning.

You waited until noon. By that time morning was officially over, and your phone still hadn’t rang.

It was hard not to be upset about it after what happened the night before. You were just about to kiss him, and he knew it. Maybe after a night of sleep, he woke up regretting it.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t call.

If you didn’t talk to him, you would go mad with assumptions. If you thought about it long enough, you’d break your own heart.

It wasn’t that big of a deal. Steve could be forgetful. It’s possible that it slipped his mind, or Robin was still feeling unwell.

But if there was some other reason, you needed to hear it as soon as possible.

Before your evening shift at Roses you stopped by Family Video. You visited him there often, so he wouldn’t be amiss seeing you - hopefully.

When you walked into the video store, the sound of the bell had four heads snapping in your direction. You searched for the eyes you came here to see, and you didn’t notice the rogue tape on the floor that caught your foot. Robin, Dustin, Max, and Steve watched you trip, and you stuttered back to steady feet.

The two kids were behind the counter at the computer. There was a mess on the floor. Everyone was staring at you like you had turned into something terrifying after walking inside.

The three of them started whispering to Steve, Robin being the loudest. You caught, “go make her leave,” and, “why is she here?”

And you didn’t understand, and Steve was shuffling toward you like a fast-paced robot, and something felt seriously off.

Still, you smiled at him, something forced. “Hey.”

“Hey. Look - we - we’re closing early today, so…”

He was trying to walk you toward the door. You wanted to know why.

“Oh, well - I just wanted to come see you before work. You didn’t call like you said you would.”

“I know, I know.” He looked over his shoulder at the group behind him. They all made different faces and shooing motions. “You need to go, alright? You can’t be here right now.”

“Steve?”

You had made it to the door and he opened it for you. And he was giving you no sympathy in the way he looked at you, his features hard as stone.

“Did I - is this about last night?”

“No. It’s nothing to do with you, okay?” You didn’t believe him, and he didn’t try convincing you. Instead he pushed you through the threshold. “Just go. Go to work, I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Why are you doing this? Just tell me, Steve, seriously. I can handle it.”

The way he sighed was dramatic, closing his eyes and hanging his head, but it was real. Annoyance and frustration, that’s what it was - two things he never directed at you. At least, not anymore.

“Please. Just listen to me, for once. Please just go. I can’t talk to you right now.”

You didn’t have a choice, really. The other option was standing there and arguing with him, and you had a feeling he didn’t have a fight in him.

So you left. You heard the door close as soon as you turned your back.

He didn’t even watch you go.

The closer you got to your car, the more your throat burned. It was all a literal blur, with tears creating clouds in your vision.

Visiting him had done the exact opposite of your goal. It made things worse, somehow, even though everything was fine five minutes ago.

What the hell had happened between last night and right now? What could you have done?

Did Steve change his mind that fast?

You thought about last night and the way that you felt. Your hands shaking, heart beating, mind racing - it was the same now, but with a pit in your stomach and tear tracks on your face.

It didn’t seem fair. He didn’t have to be so cold.

Why were they all being so cold?

Maybe you had walked in on some important meeting. Max could have been telling them a secret, or Dustin could have been indulging an embarrassing story - or Steve could have been telling them what you had done last night.

That’s what he meant when he said he didn’t want to fuck things up. Because he knew how you felt - because you weren’t hiding it at all - and he didn’t feel the same.

And that’s why he didn’t call - because he was afraid to tell you.

Because everything would change. Again.

You felt it already in the way he looked at you. It wasn’t the same as it used to be.

And maybe it would only get worse.

...

Sundays were always the same. That was the only thought that got you through the mess of the day before.

No matter what happened throughout the week, there was always a reliable refuge on Sunday.

But Dustin’s bike wasn’t in its usual place on the edge of Steve’s yard. And Steve’s car wasn’t in his driveway.

You were too shy to call, even though you knew he wasn’t home to pick up. Part of you wanted to call Family Video in case he’d taken a shift - just to hear his voice - but you couldn’t bear it. If you embarrassed yourself in front of him again, you’d never live it down.

The worst part was knowing this could be all in your head. You could be putting yourself through emotional hell for nothing.

But you had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

Monday morning there was still no sign of Steve.

It was like there was something pent up inside of you that you could never get out - is this how he felt when you spent a week avoiding him? Confused, and lonely, and hurt?

All you wanted to do was go back in time and stop yourself from ruining everything.

Tuesday night brought a simmering heat that you wanted to boil over. The sadness ebbed, giving you a break from your self loathing and doubt, making room for a burning anger. One so hot it brought you to tears.

It was all so unfair. He spent so long convincing you he cared, only to show you unequivocally that he didn’t.

And you never should have let him back in, and you definitely shouldn’t have gotten close enough for your heart to break.

You tossed and turned for days, blaming yourself then him, never able to make up your mind.

More and more, it seemed like nothing mattered. There had to be something he wasn’t telling you. You couldn’t change anything, even if you kept crying or hoping or overthinking. You had given up hope that he would simply turn up at your door.

Of course, you still wished he would.

It was Wednesday evening when you finally got what you wanted.

The sun had just barely set, bathing that spring day in a light navy that was destined to get darker. That’s when a knock echoed from your door and you found Steve’s apologetic eyes behind it.

As you looked at him, the emotions you felt through the week rewinded. Acceptance, dread, anger - denial, shame, sadness - it all ran through like rushing water, leaving you with a pounding heart and unsteady hands.

Your lips parted for no words to pass through them. He was getting uncomfortable under your stare so you dropped it to the floor and rebuilt your resolve.

“What are you doing here?”

“I really needed to see you.”

His voice wasn’t soft. It was almost demanding, the way he said it. Urgent.

“Can I come in?”

You didn’t reply; you turned and walked inside, expecting him to follow. Heavy footfall echoed in your hallway stalking you to your kitchen.

You kept your back to him because you didn’t have the energy for a face-off. You’d rather pretend to look interested in the newspaper that sat on the counter in front of you.

“What’s up?” you asked, playing nonchalant.

“I really don’t have a lot of time,” he said. You heard him tapping the marble kitchen island countertop.

“Okay…”

“I know you’re mad. I know I forgot to call, and I’ve been gone, but I can’t explain anything. Not right now, maybe… not ever.”

“Then… why are you here?” A genuine question.

“Because -”

A crack in his voice brought silence that was louder than a crowded room; one where you could hear his deep breathing stutter.

He was probably trying to find the right thing to say. Something that would make you forgive him instantly - words sweeter than a bouquet of flowers and an apology letter. You already decided you weren’t going to fall for it.

“Because I needed to see you. That’s it.”

“Steve.”

“Can you look at me? Please?” And it wasn’t urgency this time, but desperation.

You turned to face him but your gaze stuck to the floor. He planted himself on steel toed combat boots that you had never seen him wear before.

“I know you’re pissed off and I know it’s unfair, but can you pretend to not be? For two minutes? Because I - I didn’t come here to fix it. But I had to see you while I had time.”

It had you sneaking up his frame, curiosity taking the place of boldness as you put together the pieces of what he was wearing.

He looked dressed for war, or to go play pretend army man.

Dark green cargo pants that would have been too big without the tight belt tying them to his waist.

Some kind of kevlar vest was over the brown leather of a jacket with patches all down the arms, all of them representing something American militaristic.

Dirt coated fists, up to his wrists and you were sure passed. On his face from his ears to under his eyes, his forehead down to his neck.

His neck, a nasty welt wrapped all the way around it twice. Dark red in its obvious freshness, splotchy in a need to be cared for, cleaned, disinfected. It looked like he had gotten into something bad, and there were no clues for who had given him such an ugly injury.

You stared, and your nails cut your palms, and you spoke too loud when you said, “What did you do?”

He knew what you were referring to, looking down as if he could see it. You watched as his lips tried to form words of defense that never came.

“Did you - did you -”

“No.”

“Steve.”

“If I told you what happened, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Tell me.”

“Next time I’m here, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

You hadn’t noticed you had stepped closer to him until you had his eyes in yours, looking at you like he meant every word.

“You’re scaring me, Steve.”

“I know. I know, I’m sorry.”

He checked his watch, then sighed.

He stuttered over his words like he didn’t know what he was saying. “We - Robin and some others, we’re - we’re - we’re going out of town tonight. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll let you know, okay? I’ll call you.”

“I don’t understand -”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, honey, I’m sorry.” He rubbed at his eyes for a second, like he could buff out the stress in them. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

Your concern only grew as he took a small step backwards.

“Steve, you - can’t you just stay here with me? Why do you have to go?”

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, okay?” It sounded like he was trying to soothe himself rather than you. “I’ll be back.”

You called his name, trying to stop him, but he turned from you.

“I won’t forget to call you this time, okay?”

You took those steps toward him, you reached out to grab him, but he walked out of your reach. When he got to the doorway, he stopped. He stood still for just a moment, and then he was turning again.

He looked like he had made a decision, and then he was coming back to you.

And when he was in reach, you took hold of him. You pulled him in and he was all around you, hugging the life out of you, trying to squeeze all the worry out of you.

You pulled away just enough to look at him. His jaw fit in the palm of your hand like you were his mold. You held him as gently as you could, and you pulled him in, and you didn’t stop pulling until his lips hit yours.

It was a kiss that should have happened days ago - maybe a long time before that. One that was brand new but still familiar; you could smell his cologne underneath leather, you felt his hands on your waist squeezing tight.

You kissed him only just, and you felt overwhelmed with how much emotion you were trying to pour into it.

When you pulled away, big hands held the sides of your face and brought you back. Your neck craned so he could kiss you how he wanted to for a second time; a messy mesh that made things feel okay, just for that moment.

And it didn’t last long enough, because nothing so good ever did. When he broke it off he dropped his hold on you and walked away, slowly and then too fast. And that was it, and he was gone, and you wanted to chase after him but you were stuck where you stood.

It wasn’t fair.

I needed to see you, he had said, but he couldn’t even give a reason. You had no idea how selfish he was being.

You wouldn’t even look at him. And when you did, it was like you were scared of him. And you were angry, and he couldn’t fix a fucking thing - not when the weight of this town was on his shoulders.

He wiped the taste of you off his lips and pulled on the winnebago’s door until it creaked open.

Because I may never see you again, is what he wanted to say. He wanted to give you a reason. He wanted to rip himself apart, there in your kitchen; show you the fresh wounds and the healed scars and the blood stains. He wanted to fall and cry and forget, without feeling bad for hoping you’d catch him.

He walked into that god awful RV, sat in the driver’s seat, and started driving without so much as a second thought.

And he was scared even though he couldn’t be. It was like his heart skipped a beat - he felt it falling out of his chest, into his stomach. A flash of cold crept up his spine until his hands were ice. Open wounds on his back, chest, arms all throbbed, drumming a beat that was fiercely alive. A reminder he appreciated.

A deep breath was all it took, and every punch he had ever thrown played in his mind. Every swing, strike, and scream. All of them landing back on him.

He’d do it all again, tonight, because he had to. He didn’t sign up for it. And it wasn’t fucking fair. But he made his choice, and this was it.

And this time, Steve didn’t know who would come out of it alive.

So maybe it was selfish to ask the group if he could make a pitstop at your house when there was something bigger looming. And maybe it was unfair, because nobody else got to say their just in case goodbyes.

But he wouldn’t feel bad. He couldn’t, because every time he closed his eyes he was being dragged underwater, he felt that bat’s tail tightening around his throat, he heard the sound of teeth digging into his own flesh.

It was that jolt of helplessness, all over again, ten times worse.

It was nobody coming to help him.

It was being left for dead, to rot in the stomach of monsters he couldn’t fight off.

He could hear his own last words.

And he saw Robin at your front door telling you what happened with no explanation. You asking questions that would never be answered - being angry at him forever, because he didn’t call like he said he would. He saw you living without him - himself dying without you.

But he opens his eyes, and he’s still here. Driving down a winding road to some place that might be the death of him and all his friends. And he’s still breathing, and he feels you holding him like he’s worth more than the dirt and blood he’s covered in, and it’s enough. It has to be.

…

You wondered if your lips would ever stop buzzing - if the butterflies in your stomach would finally die. Neither happened by morning, and you were sure you were cursed to feel them forever.

There was no sense to be made out of the conversation you had with Steve the night before. The army gear he wore was confusing enough - the wounds he had and the words he spoke had your mind going haywire.

And you could do nothing but wait, and ask yourself the same questions. You spent your time finding distractions and not thinking too hard.

One day turned into two, and missing him never got comfortable. Concern sat in your chest like a rock. You couldn’t even look in the direction of his house without a chill going up your spine, and you had to sleep with the radio on to keep your mind from racing.

You couldn’t think. You didn’t want to.

Because - what if he wasn’t coming back?

You didn’t know, but you really wished he would have taken you with him to wherever he was going. If he was running away, he should have known you’d want to go, too.

Two days turned into four.

You weren’t okay until you saw him again.

It was his car pulling up in front of your house. You were out checking the mailbox when you heard the sound of an engine; you glanced over your shoulder, not expecting it to be his car, but when you realized, it felt like you had been run over by it.

Mail landed on the grass as your slipper caught the curb. His door opened and you were there, already on him, bouncing on your toes to wrap yourself around his neck. He caught you.

“Where the fuck have you been?” You breathed the words out. “Oh my god.”

“I’m sorry,” but he didn’t sound it. He sounded happier than ever.

It was purely opposite to how he spoke to you days ago. The grim in his words was gone, as was the grime. He was clean, and he had slept, and he was right there in your arms.

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” you said. You didn’t notice you were crying until you saw tears dripping into his sweater. “You aren’t leaving again.”

He wobbled around until you were pressed up against his car door, your hug becoming even tighter.

“I’m sorry. I’m not leaving, I promise.”

“Never,” you said, and he laughed. “What happened, Steve? Are you going to tell me?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, and you found him with his eyes shut tight.

“No.”

The wound on his neck was more of a bruise, now, dark reds and purples painting his skin like a necklace. You wondered how long it would be there - if there’d always be a scar. Time would tell.

He continued, “No - not right now. I don’t want to talk about it,” and you pulled him back into you, hugging him tight. “Not yet.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” you said, offering the patience he was asking you for. “I don’t care. Just don’t scare me like that again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “God, I’m so sorry. I’m so happy. Missed you so fucking much, you have no idea.”

You wondered if you could stand right there in the street hugging him forever. In his arms, til the end of time, letting cars drive by and the seasons change around you, nothing ever pulling you apart. Never having anything between you again.

“Stay with me tonight,” you said. It was quiet, and it was a desperate beg. “Please. Can you?”

“I don’t know...”

He was pulling back and you didn’t want him to, but the way his big hand held your face had you reeling.

“I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“Just one night?”

He was pushing your hair back like he wanted it out of the way - like he needed it out of your face so he could get a better look at you. And his eyes roamed over you like it was the first time he’d ever seen you.

“I want to. I have to check on Dustin, later, and Nance - and Max, in the morning.”

You shoved your face back into his shoulder. He was here, but he wasn’t here to stay. And he had no answers for your questions. And, maybe, he wasn’t going to kiss you again.

Is that why you had a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach? Is that what you were so afraid of?

You didn’t understand what he was going through, and he wasn’t helping you to.

Maybe you didn’t have to know, or it wasn’t your place, but you ached with a need to help him. Curiosity ate at you, and the weary way he spoke kept feeding it.

But there was nothing you could do. You had started getting used to that feeling.

So, “Okay,” you said. Because you couldn’t push, you couldn’t ask. It was easier for him if you didn’t argue, and that’s what he needed. Something easy.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re pouting.”

“I’m not.”

He laughed, something real and cute, and it had a smile starting to stretch on your face.

“I know you are. I know you.” He was speaking right into your ear; his quiet voice was the only thing you could hear. His voice was the same as always, stoking the flames in your heart and smothering the ones in your stomach. “Let me see.”

“I’m not pouting,” and you pulled your smiling face from where it was hidden. You pulled out of his hold, catching both his hands in yours. “Are you gonna come in?”

“I was thinking about it,” he said. So you led him inside.

…

And you hoped beyond it all that the week would be nothing but a blip in time, but it didn’t seem like things would go back to normal any time soon.

If Steve was distant before, he was miles away now.

He was trying, but there was always something he wasn’t saying. You had no idea how to get it out of him even after spending every day with him.

You didn’t see Robin again until you had already gotten used to the April showers, and she offered nothing more than meek smiles and one word answers during your hang out.

You hadn’t seen Dustin at all. Erica, either. Sundays had become like any other day.

Steve hadn’t mentioned the girl, but he talked about Dustin sometimes. Every few days he’d say he was going to check on him - for a reason you didn’t know.

Max was in the hospital. Steve didn’t say the reason or how she was doing. But you knew that on the days he visited her, he left home early and got back real late. You gave him his space on those days.

And then it was May, and nothing had changed, and you had gotten used to it.

...

The nights were starting to get warmer, and Steve was grateful for it. He could sit out on his patio all night, with nothing but a hoodie and half a pack to get him to too late.

He’d made a habit out of it without noticing. Out of staying up until three every night. Out of losing count of the stars in the sky. Out of chain smoking until he couldn’t hold his eyes open.

He used to be scared of the dark. When he was a kid, it was the only fear he could fathom. And, recently, it terrified him.

Now, he looked over his backyard, into the stretch of forest beyond it, and he didn’t feel a thing. If there was something hiding in the shadows, something he should be afraid of, it’d have to show itself first.

He wasn’t wasting any more time being afraid of story book monsters that might exist, because he knows what fear is now. He’s looked it in its eye, and he’s felt it punching him in the face, and he’s heard it screaming his name for help.

If it was dark all the time, Steve wouldn’t mind one bit.

And then his patio door was sliding open, and he felt his heart in his throat.

Maybe he wasn’t as tough as he thought.

“Hey.”

Your voice cut through the pounding.

“I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”

“No, it’s okay.” He grabbed his pack of cigarettes and shoved it up his sleeve, feeling a need to hide them from you - even though he had one tucked behind his ear that he was sure you could see.

“What are you doing out here?”

You sat with him, crouching down and getting as comfortable as you could on the wooden porch. He watched you fold your arms into yourself.

“Getting some peace and quiet,” he said. “No jacket?”

“Didn’t think you’d be outside,” you said. “Should I go get one?”

He was already getting up before you could finish asking. He brought you a jacket and a blanket, and got himself a Coke. Better than beer, he figured.

You grabbed all three from him. “How’d you know I was thirsty?”

All he did was grin at you. He slid the door shut behind him, and then sat down against it, across from you. You were sitting too close for him to stretch his legs out; he kept them bent, his arms slung over his knees.

Now that you were here, his thoughts weren’t the loudest thing in his head. You had always been like that - too noisy to let the quiet smother him. Most times, he appreciated that.

It wasn’t helping now, though. Your tapping on the ground and the tune you hummed weren’t drowning out a thing.

He couldn’t stop fucking thinking.

You passed him the soda can, and he held it lazily between his bent knees.

He didn’t even want it. He wasn’t thirsty. Really, he only wanted to light the cigarette you hadn’t spotted yet.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He stared at the chipped paint under his feet. His teeth gnawed at the inside of his cheek, over and over at the same spot until it was bleeding. And, god, it was a familiar taste. One that made him sick.

He tossed his head back and it hit the glass with a thud. He looked at you, once, and then passed you. At the rippling water in the pool.

He stared at it. Stared and stared and stared, until he had to say something.

“Do you remember when Will Byers went missing?”

He wanted to see the reaction on your face, but he couldn’t look away from the water. He could see that night, the party, and what happened afterward.

“Yeah… our junior year, right?”

He gave a barely there nod.

“It was Will, and then it was Barb.”

He looked to his lap, but he was still seeing that fucking night. He saw the blood in Barb’s hand, and he heard the hurt in her voice, and he remembered not caring at all.

“Fuck. It’s all so fucked up.”

He didn’t care when he should’ve, and now it’s useless. It doesn’t matter if he cares or not, but he wants to rip his fucking heart out, anyway. He wants to go back in time and do it all over again, even if it would lead to a disaster. Even if it would change everything or nothing.

And he shouldn’t be so upset about it, because it doesn’t make a difference. Not anymore. He could be as careless as he wants, now, because no one is around to be hurt by it.

“Why are you thinking about that, Steve?”

“Because that’s when all this shit started.”

He spoke without thinking, words falling out of his mouth like a running faucet, because he didn’t have the energy to keep a secret anymore.

It started with Barb, but it didn’t end with her. Or with Billy. Or Hopper, or Chrissy - and, maybe, not with Eddie.

And how many others had been taken in between?

His throat felt tight; he coughed through it. He sat the Coke between his feet, and realized his lighter was there, too.

He brought a palm to his eyes. “You wouldn’t even believe me if I told you. It’s - it’s fucking unbelievable, but it’s all true.”

“Steve.”

“It’s stupid.”

“You can tell me.”

He was getting overwhelmed. His breaths started to stagger on top of each other, making it hard to catch even one. Tears welled in his eyes as he squeezed them shut. It was all too much - he needed to get it out.

Because nothing between you and him would ever be normal if he never stopped hiding this from you. What, was he going to hide his scars from you forever? Or never explain why he didn’t sleep at night? Would all of his weapons be excused away as decorations?

No - he wanted to let you in.

“It’s all so fucking stupid.”

He was laughing, and you must have thought he was fucking crazy.

“Barb - she was here that night.”

“What?”

“This is the last place she was seen. And I just acted like it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t care, even when I found out she was missing.”

And he felt like an open fucking wound; the still healing rips on his torso leaking blood, too much for his shirt to absorb. His head throbbing, his eye swollen shut. Iron in his mouth, on his fists, pooling around him. Something wrapped around his throat. Bile filling it. He hadn’t healed. His injuries were all still there.

“And I show up to Jonathan Byers’ house, and I knock on his door, and I knew - I fucking knew something was wrong. Like, seriously wrong. And I forced Nancy to let me in, and I didn’t run when they told me to. And I should have just fucking listened.”

He thought about Barb, Billy, Chrissy, Jason, Eddie. All of them, victims to the thing he’s had nightmares about for years, and he can’t stop his first thought: I’m just glad it wasn’t me.

But it’s the thought that comes after that he keeps getting hung up on: Should it have been?

“I don’t know what they said about Will. I don’t know what excuse they made up, or what you think happened - if he was lost in the forest, or - or if he ran away, but none of it is true. He disappeared. He wasn’t here anymore. He was gone - literally, gone. In another dimension. Literally.”

Steve couldn’t know if you were understanding - if you were even capable of believing something so unreal. But you had to. You had to know. He’d been carrying around this secret, and it was the biggest thing in his life.

Because he wanted to. Because he loved you. He wants you to love him - to understand who you’re loving.

“Whatever you think about all the shit that happens in Hawkins… they say it’s a curse, or whatever, but - you don’t know the half of it. You don’t know any of it. It’s not a curse. It’s just a coincidence. If it didn’t happen in Hawkins, it would have happened somewhere else.”

You still hadn’t said anything. You just sat there, staring at your hands in your lap. Steve wasn’t sure if he appreciated the silence or not, but he wasn’t used to it.

“Will went missing. And a girl showed up. Eleven. El. You’ve seen her with Mike, or Max. You know her. You know Hawkins Lab? That’s where she grew up. She’s not just some girl, she’s - she’s someone’s science experiment. She’s got psychic powers. I’m not kidding.”

“What?”

There it was - the tilt in your voice that told him you didn’t believe a damn thing, and he didn’t blame you.

And he laughed.

“I swear.”

“Psychic powers, like…?”

He grabbed the Coke and took a long drink over a smile. He was looking at you like this was something casual.

“I’ve seen her lift a car with her mind,” and he shrugged with it. The can rang on the floor; you picked it up and took a drink.

You said nothing, and Steve felt like he was retelling a movie plot rather than his own life. It wasn’t a good feeling.

“I don’t know what they were doing in the lab, but they - I don’t know. They opened a gate into another dimension. One just like Hawkins, but fucked up beyond belief. The Upside Down. That’s where Will went. It’s where Barb died. It’s where all your nightmares go to turn into spit soaked monsters, probably.”

He pulled down his cigarette and rolled it back and forth between his fingers, digging his thumb’s nail into the filter. It was some old menthol crush, the last of its pack that he’d bummed at a party a few weeks back. He hated the way it stung the back of his throat, hated the taste it left in his mouth even more. The Marlboro Reds burned a hole in his hoodie sleeve where they were still hidden. Those smoked better - they were fresher, smoother.

“Dustin comes up with these insane sounding names for all the shit that comes out of that place. Demogorgans. Demodogs.” He had to chuckle and roll his eyes at himself. “The Mind Flayer. That’s what wrecked Starcourt.”

“The mall?”

Steve nodded.

“You said it was a fire.”

“I lied.”

“Then what was it?”

He put the menthol between his lips. He hated the mint, but he always cracked the capsule, anyway. Someone told him it was bad luck not to.

He stared at you, and he wrapped his teeth around the cigarette filter. His jaw tensed with a bite. It popped, and he grabbed his lighter, and he didn’t look away from you.

And then he got into it. He told you about Dustin hearing Russian being spoken over his radio. And how he learned how smart Robin really is, when she translated the words and then understood the secret message they were relaying. He explained how they’d gotten Erica to sneak into the air vents, and how that led to all four of them sneaking into a storage room that turned into a sinking elevator.

He told you about the Russians, about how they were opening their own gate. He told you about getting kidnapped by them, and all the ways they had made those few hours hell.

He didn’t spare the details, because he was tired of downplaying it all. And in that bunker, he thought he was dead. He shouldn’t have to tiptoe around that.

And he told you about the drug they’d given him and Robin, and how he would be dead if it wasn’t for Dustin and Erica, and how fucking scared he was even after he got out.

And they got out, and then he was driving a car straight into Billy fucking Hargrove, and then all of them were fighting something that looked bigger than the entire sky.

And he doesn’t know how he remembers it all so clearly.

“And then it was over… and I called you.” He still hadn’t lit his smoke - it’d been hanging from his lips the whole time he spoke.

You stared at him like you were trying to find his missing pieces. Glass coated your eyes and worry wormed its way between your brows, and Steve hated it. He wasn’t telling you any of this so you’d feel bad. He didn’t want you crying for him, or at all.

He laughed only just. “And you had no idea what you were picking me up from.”

You breathed in a loose sniffle. “No shit.”

Scratch, rip, hit -

Scratch, rip, hiss.

A flame lit up his face as tobacco started to burn. Nasty numbing mint chilled his throat as he puffed out his chest, and he held in a cough on the exhale.

He held the lighter loose in the air, between his raised knees.

“Do you believe me?”

“I don’t believe you could make any of that up.”

“I’m sorry I never told you.” Mumbled words were barely heard over the scratch, rip, hit as he played with the Bic like a toy. And he didn’t sound all too sorry - he sounded tired.

Wind ripped through the night and carried smoke and ash with it.

“What about spring break?”

He looked up at you. “What?”

“Spring break,” you said again. You looked down from his eyes to his neck, where shadows of a bruised scar remained. “Something else happened, didn’t it?”

Somehow, in the reminiscing of fights past, he’d forgotten about everything most recent. That was the only way he could forget about it - by thinking about all the shit that came before.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, redundant answers easier to give than an explanation. Listening to the scratch, rip, hiss, watching a flickering flame, breathing in more smoke.

He let go of fidgeting with the lighter to pull the cigarette from his mouth. He exhaled smoke then hit it again; he held the hit so long that what he breathed out was thin.

And as he ashed his cigarette, he decided he didn’t want to get into it. He didn’t want to replay those events like a story. So, again, he said, “Yeah.”

“What happened?” It wasn’t a push - Steve appreciated the concern you had.

“Same as always. It was a fight. It’s… it’s supposed to be over now. Really over.”

He remembered it like it was yesterday: setting Vecna aflame that caught all of The Upside Down with it. The whole place burned, from its vines to its crumbled buildings to the monsters in the sky. The gates closed themselves like they had never been open.

And it was over, even if it was too late.

“The Upside Down is gone. It should be. Hopefully. But… I was lucky to get out. Some of us didn’t.” He shrugged, like it was casual. He stared at the cherry on the cigarette, burning bright orange.

And he couldn’t keep talking, even though he knew what part came next. He knew what words he had to say. But he couldn’t.

It seemed you caught on enough, because you said them for him. “Max?”

He clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, holding back tears he’d already cried before.

“She��s been in a coma since,” he said. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“But you’ve seen her?”

His response came hesitant. “I’ve tried,” and he wanted to leave it at that, so no cries came after, but his mouth kept talking. “Robin goes in. I can’t even make myself get out of the damn car.”

All he felt was shame, but he swallowed it.

“You heard about Chrissy Cunningham?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t Eddie Munson who killed her.” You nodded - Steve figured you understood what he meant enough to spare the details. “Eddie - god, Eddie would’ve died for her. He would’ve died for anybody. He died for this fucking town.”

Another pull from the smoke that was almost gone. Breathe in, breathe out.

“He was a dumbass. A freak - a fucking idiot.” He wished Eddie was listening to him - Steve wanted him to hear all the insults he was throwing his way, because they were all true. It was stupid the way Eddie died. He shouldn’t have.

“And Dustin’s been a mess ever since, and there’s nothing I can do. Robin’s a bigger wreck than she used to be. No one’s handling it.”

“How are you handling it?”

And Steve didn’t know how to answer. He wasn’t sure he had one.

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t lying - he was fine. Somewhere between good and bad, coping through flashbacks and nightmares. He wasn’t lost in it. He was dealing.

“Steve…”

The last drag from his barely there cigarette burned hot, and he savored the pull until his lungs were full. He didn’t empty them until he stood up, and he looked around for the ashtray.

His words were smoke. “Do you want to go in? It’s late.”

He found it on the table, stubbed out the cigarette, and then he stuffed the hidden pack into his pocket.

You repeated his name behind him, and he ignored you. And then your hand was on his back, and you were pulling him in before he could hear you coming.

It was a tight hug he had to fight out of just so he could turn and reciprocate. His arms around your shoulders were just as tight as yours around his waist.

“I’m sorry.” It was a whisper he didn’t even know he was breathing out, until he was repeating it into your hairline. “I had to tell you. I needed you to know. I’m sorry.”

Your response was muddy, spoken into his shoulder. He laughed and pulled back enough to look at you.

“What?”

“Don’t say sorry.” You wore a grumpy look, your words were demanding, and Steve laughed some more. “Why are you laughing? Stop.”

“Because you’re funny.” His thumb smoothed out the worry between your brows and put them back where they belonged. “And really cute.”

You pressed your cheek into his chest. “I’m being serious. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah. Me too, believe me.”

A kiss on your forehead had you squeezing him tighter, and he ignored how tender the injuries on his back and stomach were. They were just barely forming scars, but the way you hugged him had him feeling like they weren’t even there. It made him feel special. He felt better.

So he kissed your skin again and willed himself to tamper the thoughts of when he was kissing your lips instead. “Let’s go in, honey.” He pulled you loose from him.

It seemed like you had a realization, then; your eyes went wide and you looked at him like you couldn’t stop. “That’s why you came to see me that night - because…”

You trailed off, maybe not knowing what to say, and Steve wasn’t sure where to pick up. He could tell you the suffocating truth, or a less embarrassing lie.

Something in between, “Because I needed to.”

“I didn’t know it was that serious,” you said. “I mean - I knew there was something really wrong, but… I didn’t know - I didn’t think that could be our first and last kiss - I didn’t know you could’ve died.”

“I wasn’t trying to scare you. You weren’t supposed to think that.” He felt bad, but he didn’t regret the visit. “And, technically - it was our first and second kiss.”

You breathed a laugh as your forehead fell into the crook of his neck. “I hate your technicalities.”

He laughed, too, and the joy helped distract him from the anxiety running through him.

He thought about that kiss every day - about how he made sure to do it twice, all because he wasn’t going to die without getting to kiss you a second time. Once wasn’t enough, so he took the second without any time passing.

But he wouldn’t tell you any of that. He was scared to know how you’d feel about it.

That’s why he hasn’t brought it up until now. Until you said something first.

He pulled away from you again, really meaning to bring you inside this time because he hated having you out so late. But he froze when he saw tears on your lash line, looking like crystals clinging to your eyelashes.

He swore he felt his heart break. “Sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t cry - hey, don’t cry for me, alright? I’m right here, honey, hey.”

He crouched down to be eye level with you and he sat on the table behind him. He cradled your face - you tried pulling away, but he wouldn’t let you.

“If you would’ve told me the truth, I never would have let you go.” You spoke so sadly.

“I know. I know, honey, but you don’t have to think about it anymore - it’s okay. There’s nothing to cry about.”

Tears were still falling, and you were still mumbling through them. “I would’ve kissed you more if I knew you might not come back.”

And he needed you to stop crying. He’d do anything - he’d confess all his feelings right there, if that’s what it took.

“I was always coming back. I’m right here, you got me, look at me.”

You shook your head but did what he said; he was wiping your tears with his sleeve, chuckling through the ache in his chest.

“You think I was gonna kiss you then go get myself killed? No shot. What’d you think I was living for, huh?”

“That’s not funny, Steve.” But you were smiling.

“I’m not trying to be.” He was smiling, too. “I mean it. Nothing would keep me from coming back to you, alright? I’m right here - you can keep me forever, I’ll kiss you as much as you want, just stop crying.”

“I can’t help it.” You wiped your nose and squeezed your eyes closed, and it looked like your breathing was steadier. “Do you mean it?”

“Which part?”

“I can keep you forever?”

“Of course.”

And he watched your cheeks swell into a smile you tried to hide. “And you’ll kiss me?”

He had no idea how to be charming or sly underneath your gaze, so he wasn’t. Instead, he was a stuttering, shy, lovesick fool.

“I - I mean, yeah - yeah, if you… want me to, I guess - I mean, I definitely want to, so - it’s up to you?”

He didn’t even care if he sounded like an idiot, because that’s exactly what he was. And you knew it.

“Obviously I want you to, Steve.”

His thumb pressed into your cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Obviously, huh?”

He was obsessed with your smile, addicted to feeling it grow into his palm.

“I’ve only been sending signals for months, but you haven’t caught any of them.”

“Oh, I’ve caught them, alright - was just waiting for the right moment.”

“Like right now?”

And, just like the first time, you kissed him. It was as soft as it could possibly be. Two smiles meeting after too long apart, his hands on your face, yours on his chest.

He pulled away, then brought you back to him, tilting your chin so he could kiss you for real. He moved his lips and yours followed his lead.

Your fingers crawled up and up until they were sneaking behind his neck, getting lost in his hair. He tugged you closer - your body was flush against his.

He felt you everywhere; you stood between his legs, your chest and his were rising and falling with each other.

Behind his closed eyes, he was in another world. He saw you pulling him in close, he felt your hand tightening around his, he heard your voice calling out his name.

He heard himself telling you every secret he’d ever kept. He saw the house he’d build for you, and the bed he’d sleep in with you, and the ring he’d give you. He saw it all.

It was heart racing.

It was wanting to be with you forever.

It was you wanting to be with him, too.

And then you pulled away.

And he opened his eyes.

And you were right there in front of him, smiling just for him to see, and he felt like melting into a puddle.

“You’ll kiss me as much as I want, right? Is that what you said?”

God, he wanted to squeeze you like a stuffed animal - you drove him crazy. Absolutely batshit insane.

He pulled you back in with both hands on your face and kissed you something awful - pressing against you hard, making sure to leave your lips glossy when he pulled back to laugh.

“Just like that, as much as you want.”

“Never again.”

It was funny when you tugged away from him. Both of you were laughing, but he couldn’t take it. You weren’t getting far.

“Don’t leave, it’s what you wanted!”

He chased behind and it was quick when he caught you, right at the patio door. He turned you around and pressed you into the glass, and he kissed you again like he couldn’t help it - because he couldn’t.

The way you kissed was new, and he already loved it, but he ached to know you. To know just how to get you to open up for him, to learn how to kiss you exactly as you liked.

He would figure it out - he wouldn’t stop until he did. And he’d make do for the moment, leading the way through your shyness, not letting anything stop him.

Your lips parted after enough convincing, and with your open mouth against his it was impossible for him to hold back the noise he made. A groan, or a growl, he wasn’t sure - but it had you whining back to him as he tasted your tongue.

It was hot but it was slow, and there was nothing Steve wouldn’t give for it to last forever. Despite that, he broke first.

“As much as you want,” he told you, speaking low, words scratched with something rough. “God, I’d kiss you forever if you let me, baby - however you wanted me to.”

“Forever?”

“As long as you’ll let me,” he grinned. “As long as you’ll keep me.”

“I’ve already had you around for a while…”

“Not like this,” he insisted. “At least let me get good at kissing you before you throw me out on the curb.”

“You’re already good,” you said, kissing his jaw.

He hummed, teasing. “Let me get better, then. Gotta get up to par with you, honey.”

“What can I say? I’ve had a lot of kissing practice, babe.”

He rolled his eyes, acting dramatic. “Oh, I bet you have, babe.”

“Like you haven’t had your practice, too, honey.”

“Okay - let’s stop bringing up the past, alright?” He tugged the glass door open behind you, then pushed you through it. Laughter filled his house as the door shut behind him.

“You started it!”

“I literally didn’t! You brought up your hours of practice!”

“I never said it was hours!”

“I’m filling in the blanks!”

“Oh my god.” You were making quick steps to the stairs - he followed like a lost dog.

“Is this our first fight?”

You were halfway up the staircase when you turned and looked down to him, still stood at the bottom. The lighting around you was dim and your grin was blinding him. “Only if you don’t let me sleep over tonight.” Your hands were on your hips, your eyes were drawing him in. “And this isn’t our first fight. Our first fight was over a Snickers bar.”

“And I don’t think we ever made up, now that I think about it.”

He took the stairs two at a time to get to you, and he gave you his smuggest grin.

“Really? We’re still fighting over it?”

“Til the end of time,” he stated. “But I can look past our differences just for tonight.”

“That gives me time to make it up to you.”

...

Did you know everything about Steve Harrington?

You thought you did. You spent years believing it.

You knew more about him than the average person, sure - but how could you have been so smug? How could you act like such a know it all?

You learn new things about him every day, now. Even when you thought there was nothing left that you didn’t know.

As it turns out, you knew next to nothing about him. And you liked it that way. It made doing life with him that much more exciting.

You sat with him now in the passenger seat of his car. The morning sun cast everything in gold, making the day feel brand new. You watched as he tapped his finger on the steering wheel, making a terrible beat.

He kept shaking his head back and forth, and you only just realized that you had noticed him doing it before. It was a nervous tick. It never stood out to you until now - something new.

“Are you okay?”

He seemed to freeze at the sound of your voice, as if he had forgotten you were even there.

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

You took his hand and brought it up to your lips.

He continued, “I don’t know if I can do this,” and he looked out the window rather than at you.

You squeezed his hand tight. “I know you can, baby. You did it last week.”

“It was fucking hard.”

“It’ll be easier this time. Why won’t you look at me, babe?”

He did; his eyes were down turned and sad.

You kissed his hand again. “You don’t have to force yourself, Steve. If it’s really too hard -”

“I have to. I know I do.”

You gave him a sad smile, then sat up and across the console to kiss his cheek. He leaned into it, and you lingered there. “You’ll be proud of yourself. I’ll be proud of you.”

“I know.”

You turned his face toward yours, and he was nothing but stressed. “Are you sure you’re okay, Steve? It’s okay if you can’t push yourself today.”

He sighed loud, and you knew he was trying to be overdramatic. “I’m okay, honey. I just… get like this.”

You giggled, “I know.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know, babe,” and you pressed your lips against his quick. “You’re okay. I’ll be out here the whole time waiting, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

You handed him the bouquet of flowers and bag of snacks from your lap. “Lucas is expecting you.” You passed him a stack of old books, ones Steve had picked from your collection that he thought Lucas and Max would enjoy.

He took them, and then he kissed you again, just for the sake of it. “Thank you.”

He opened his door, and as he stepped out of the car, you found three words on the tip of your tongue threatening to fall out of your mouth - and you slapped a hand over your lips when you realized what they were.

When he shut the door and you were out of the danger zone, you breathed a deep sigh of relief.

You were nervous because of him.

That was new, too.

You watched through the windshield as he walked toward the hospital doors, and you said those three words to yourself, and tucked that new discovery into your back pocket.

It was all new horizons with Steve, from there on out.

He was brand new to you, and you absolutely loved him for it.

part one!

thank u for reading. kiss

#if anyone sees this haiii :3 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #fluff #angst #my writing

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jhugas · 1 year

Text

PROVE IT. II- Jeon Jungkook- ‘Good night?’

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Series: Prove it

Genre: smut

Pairing: athlete!rival!Jungkook X athlete!afab!Reader

Summary of this chapter (part 1 is different): something bad happened, videos of you two last night got leaked. And when you got a call from your managers, you expected them to be mad, scold you, but instead… they asked you a favour.

Word count: ~1,9k

Warnings/tags: Slut shaming, eye contact, pet names (once; kitten), sub!reader, dom!Jungkook, penetration, filmed sex (not really mentioned though), clit play, make out, you get to know Jungkook’s real intention since the beginning (part 1)👀, unprotected sex, cums in her, they cum together, teasing, restraining (makes her cum when he wants to), oral sex (f receives), cum eating (m eats).

Reminder: this is a part II of ‘Prove it. I’ (In my opinion, it’s better to read it first to get the whole context :) )

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Your alarm wakes you up, it’s 10am and you’re exhausted. The night before was rough, and long, so you didn’t get that much sleep.

You opened your eyes slowly and stopped the alarm as quick as possible. For the moment, everything was alright and you didn’t even remember what happened last night. Until, as you sat up on the bed, you felt courbatures from your back to your legs.

‘Fuck…’ you think to yourself, and everything comes back to your memory; the drinking alcohol, make out… sex? You really had a doubt on that last assumption, it’s impossible that you guys really had sex right?

Well anyways, you get this idea out of your mind and get out of bed since Jungkook was already out.

‘If he acts weird or calls me a slut, something definitely happened. If not, then everything is alright!’

You put on your slippers, some clothes to hide yourself a bit more and head to the kitchen.

And to your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t in the pool, but cooking something in the place you were heading to.

‘Hi.’

He quickly says stealing a glance at you.

‘Hi?’

You answer. Well let’s say you weren’t expecting him to talk to you at 10 in the morning. But since he might remember fully what happened last night, you try to read on his face what happened. That was useless though, he looked completely fine. And still looking at him, you sit down and he immediately brings the breakfast that he cooked himself.

‘Had a good night? Mhm?’

He asks you in a mocking tone. There he was the arrogant Jungkook you knew!

‘ “Good night” ?’

You answer back, trying to get more informations.

‘Yeah, got fucked like a slut huh? So I was right in the end.’

He raises his eyebrow with pride and his tone raises. So you did get fucked by him… it was a mistake, if you were sober, you swear you would’ve proved him wrong.

‘What about it? You just got lucky. Be happy you got to fuck one of the best out here.’

‘Oh yeah? And will you be happy when you learn our reputations got destroyed? Because of your little slutty ass?’

He says as he tilts his head to the side and pokes his cheek with his tongue.

‘What the fuck are you talking about? Just leave me alone, and let’s just forget about last night, no one will know.’

You answer like it’s obvious, but unfortunately, you’re missing a part of the story.

‘No one will know? Well trust me, everyone fucking knows. Everyone’s sharing videos of us fucking and watching them.’

He says then in a way more serious tone. And all of the sudden before even getting a proper explanation, he gets his phone out, opens twitter and shows you the videos in question.

The videos, unfortunately, are clear and have a good quality. So anyone could tell it was you two, it was undeniable.

And not only they could see everything, like Jungkook pushing himself in and out of you and throwing his head back as you arch your back, but they could also hear everything. Your moans, the bed squeaking, and lastly the most oblivious, you screaming each others name.

Now, how were you going to deal with this? Everybody was 100% sure you were enemies, that you hated each other. And now, all they have are videos of you two creaming on each other.

‘You’re just a little fucking slut. Look at yourself, arching your back with my cock in you. So fucking naughty.’

He whispers the last part and caresses your hair. But suddenly, you both get a phone call from your managers.

During the call…

‘…do you know that you’re trending right now?…I can’t believe you did this…not only you did it, but you also got caught!…however, you’ve both gained many followers since…I’m just saying, you just won fame after this incident!…maybe it’d be good to do something like that one more time…c’mon! At least once! You’re in a pretty place and safe, you have nothing to lose…’

You hang up and take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself…

So, if you understood well, your manager asked you to have sex with Jungkook one more time, and get caught by paparazzis once again, because you gained fame and followers after last time…

You look over to Jungkook that’s outside now, and you can clearly tell that he’s mad, or maybe just stressed. But life goes on, so you take one more deep breath, and start eating the breakfast Jungkook made. It was good, but it wasn’t a surprise anyway, he already cooked yesterday and it was also delicious.

Once Jungkook came back inside, you walked toward him and told him you wanted to have a serious talk.

You’re now both on the couch, sitting, and the conversation starts…

‘So… we’re really gonna do this?’

He says hesitantly.

‘Yes. We don’t have a choice, we have a contract, managers, and we need to follow them.’

You answer, explaining that it is against your will and that if you could avoid this awkward situation, you would.

‘So what, should we do it tonight?’

He says in a more gentle voice. You don’t know what changed, but the atmosphere seems more chill.

‘My manager told me to do this the quickest possible, so tonight is a good idea… by the way, should we get drunk again?’

You ask.

‘Drunk again? I think it’s better that you enjoy it tonight, right? Sadly, though your pussy was throbbing yesterday and you came twice under me, you didn’t even remember it this morning. How sad…’

He tells you as a smirk grows on his lips before licking his bottom ones.

‘So what’s the plan?’

You ask him. It’s currently 11 pm and it’s time to do it. The paparazzis could only see in your bedroom and balcony, so you had time and privacy to get everything ready in the living room.

‘It’s simple, I bring you to the balcony, kiss you, then we start making out. Then, after a few minutes, I take you back inside and we fuck on the bed. And listen, I’m not the type to comfort others, especially sluts like you, but just for tonight y/n… It’ll be alright. Just follow me, you won’t even have to do anything. Relax, and enjoy is the best thing you could do.’

He says. It was the first time you saw him like this. And it was surprising to see him reassuring you, especially when he was about to rock your shit.

‘Ok…’

You whisper back and nod, giving him the permission to start.

So he takes your hand, and brings you to the balcony passing by the bedroom to finally lean on it. To start, you create a false conversation, like you were flirting with each other. Then after talking for like five minutes, he cups your face, leans in, and presses his lips against yours.

He starts by pecking your lips many times and kissing your cheeks. Just a few cute and short kisses making you innocently giggle. But then, he started giving you longer kisses. He held you more firmly and the kiss got more intense, which led him to suck on your top lip. Meanwhile, you sucked on his bottom ones and bit them sometimes. This went on for a few minutes, making out but too scared to go further. Until, he slid his tongue in between your lips, so you used yours to play with his piercing.

It was such a turn on for him, having a woman just sucking and playing with his piercing in public. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning in your mouth as you pulled off a little bit, but he doesn’t want to lose any time. He kisses you again, passionately and with force as he pushes your back against the balcony and plays with your hair with one hand, then with the other, grabs your ass. You two were finally opening to each other, not scared to express what you needed or felt.

‘fucking slut’ he whispers between kisses, ‘got me so fucking horny’ he repeated.

And then suddenly, he lifted you up with only one hand massaging your ass, and brung you to the bed.

He laid you down, got on top of you, and kept making out with you, devouring your lips. Sucking harder on them, switching between your top and bottom lips, licking them tenderly… And after making your lips all red and swollen, just like his, he slowly began to slide his hand that was in your hair, to your slit, caressing your beautiful skin and lifting your sleeping dress.

When his fingers finally arrived to your pussy, he took off your panties and slowly began to just slide them up and down your folds, spreading your wetness.

You move a bit under his touch but he holds you firmly. Next, he disconnects his lips from yours, and starts pecking your body from your jaw, to your breast, to your tummy.

He gives you wet kisses on your lower stomach, leaving purple marks here and there to prove he was here. Then later, with his lips, he went lower and reached just above your clit. He lightly pressed his lips against it, teasing you, making you feel his hot breath and smile growing as time passed.

Until suddenly, he wrapped his cherry lips around your clit, sucking on it like his life depended on it.

Meanwhile, his fingers were teasing your hole, sliding in one a little bit, then pulling it out. He could feel your juice on his fingers and it made him so hungry, just he wanted to eat you out so bad. And at the thought of it, he unconsciously started eating you out like a whole meal, his tongue also getting a taste.

You can feel everything, his fingers teasingly sliding in and out of you, his tongue licking your juice and flicking your clit, and him just sucking on it.

He moans with your clit in his mouth, making you feel vibrations, he just wishes you knew how good you taste. You feel your orgasm approaching, the hot wave coming to your head and you start shaking. But as soon as he felt your walls clench around one of his finger, and felt you shivering, he stopped everything.

‘Thought I’d already let you cum? C’mon now, you know me better than that. Don’t you?’

He said with a smirk drawn in his face as you frowned your eyebrows and whined in frustration. And he didn’t lose a second to shove his fingers in his mouth, finally getting what he wanted; the taste of your juice. It was so yummy to him, so delicious, he could make out with your pussy for hours. But sadly, you don’t got time for that.

He takes off his short and you can see a bulge in his boxers, he was hard, very hard. You can already guess how big and good looking that dick will be.

And just when he took off his Calvin Klein boxers, his cock bounced till it found it’s right position, and stood tall and proud over your stomach. This is what you missed last time, this big cock, ready to fill you up and Jungkook hovering over you, making you feel so secured, protected and horny.

‘Fuck’ you whisper to yourself, you don’t even know if it’ll fit. But if it once did, then it should still.

He laughs at your comment and spread your legs, positioning himself in front of you, before putting the tip in front of your entrance.

He teases you with it, slides it in your folds, touches your clit with his pretty tip. Then finally, pushed himself inside of you. At the feeling of your walls not clenching around his fingers this time, but around his cock, he can’t help but curse at this feeling he’s been needing all this time.

This reminded him of why he won; he just won to fuck you right, he didn’t even care about the luxury hotel, all he wanted was this pussy in his mouth and his dick in it. And he knew damn well he’d get it. All these years masturbating on your pictures, magazines...

It’s true, he was actually pissed off you always had the same score as him, but he was so jealous of your teammates. How could they be so close to you but not him? That’s when he just told himself that you were a slut. It was easier for him that way.

And everytime he saw you walking to the podium he was already standing at, with those shorts holding your cheeks moving, your boobs bouncing as you laughed, this look and smirk you gave him and just your attitude in general, it just made him want to fuck you hard in the lockers.

Back in the reality, he’s sliding it in and out of you, taking care to get the deepest possible, and to make you feel every inch of him.

You close your eyes with force and moans leave your lips. Even though you’re embarrassed, nothing could make you feel better than Jungkook’s big dick. And nothing was hotter than the sound of wet clapping in the room filled with moans and groans.

It’s also crazy how not only he was good with his dick, but also with his lips, tongue, fingers… he’s truly an all rounder.

He keeps pumping in and out of you, groaning and looking at your pity face, and nothing could make him feel better, than you praising him and showing how good he’s giving it to you.

‘Uh you’re such a good little slut. You’re my good little kitten aren’t you?’

He asked, waiting for a positive answer.

‘I- I am!’

You answer as he laughs at your stupidity. How could anyone really want to be his kitten?

‘I’m your good little kitten!’

You repeat as your orgasm approached. Well it seems like you did. He bites his lips and also feels your walls clenching around him.

‘Wait for me to cum princess. Let’s both cum in you together.’

He ordered while looking deep in your eyes. And then, faster than you thought, you both found yourselves cumming in the same spot, painting your walls white as he kept eye contact with you, and looked carefully at your facial expression.

As you both came back to earth, you tried to catch your breath. Then, when he saw you were ready, he pulled out and watched his cum mixed with yours sliding down your asshole. He quickly took a tissue to stop it from staining the bed, then came back at you.

‘How are you love?’

He gently asked.

‘Mmhhhhhh’

You just answered as you were already ready to go to sleep. He giggled, also tired and pulled on your legs to get you closer to him. Next, he carried you to the toilet, checked that you didn’t fall off, and brung you back to the bedroom.

Because you already fell asleep, he himself changed you to some new, refreshing clothes and put you in the bed, before going to sleep himself, holding you close to his chest.

@dolliecat ^^

Thank you for reading! Reminder: if you liked it, please like, reblog or comment! Thank you!

Masterlist

Prove it masterpost

#army #bts #fanfic #scenarios #one shot #imagine #smut #bts fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook #Jungkook x reader #Jungkook x y/n #Jungkook smut #bts smut #Jungkook fanfic #Jungkook fic #bts fic #Jungkook rival #jhugas prove it

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errorryx · 2 years

Text

grian's confession booth

read on ao3 | limited life ensemble, 3.4k words

Under the impression that Grian can't hear them, some of his fellow server members take the opportunity to spill the beans on things they probably would never have told him otherwise.

—

Joel hadn’t known what to do when Grian woke him and Jimmy early in the morning, with a look on his face that was desperately trying to be a smile. Once they were both properly awake and had stopped groaning about it, Grian had launched into an explanation that had done very little to soothe their concerns.

It’s a Watcher thing, he’d said. I’ll be back before you know it, hopefully by tomorrow. I’m sure the two of you will keep me safe while I’m gone, right?

Jimmy agreed almost immediately, and Joel a little more grudgingly, still working under the assumption that Grian was pranking them. It wasn’t until Grian climbed up on the llama, said his goodbyes, and went perfectly, horrifyingly still that Joel was even partially convinced otherwise.

He stared at Grian for a long time after, waiting for him to mess up and reveal his hand. But Grian didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. Joel made a point of watching his stomach for a while to see if it was moving, and he was pretty sure Grian wasn’t breathing either.

“D’you think his heart’s still beating?” he asked, casting a nervous glance in Jimmy’s direction.

The unreadable expression on Jimmy’s face slowly melted back into a more familiar look of contemplation, and Joel breathed a sigh of relief. “Dunno,” Jimmy said. “S’pose there’s only one way to find out.”

“Yeah,” Joel agreed. “You should check his pulse.”

“Me? It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“What? I’m not touching him! Not when he’s all—” Joel gestured. “You know.”

Jimmy crossed his arms, the first hints of a well-worn scowl starting to form on his face. “So you expect me to do it instead?”

“Well, you’re the one who knows about this stuff, not me. Whatever your deal is.”

“Whatever my deal is? What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimmy asked, immediately defensive. “You don’t see me just up and leaving my body, do you? That’s a Grian thing. I’ve got nothing to do with it.”

“Whatever,” Joel huffed. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.” He didn’t want to argue with Jimmy while Grian was gone, or he’d have nobody left.

But after a while, Jimmy left anyway, leaving Joel to watch Grian on his own. There was something about hanging out with a silent, unmoving Grian that made Joel want to talk and talk and never stop, just to fill the silence. He rambled on about his plan to build a submarine, built a tower out of carpet, and got to work flooding the mansion. Before he knew it, he was leaning on the fencepost of Grian’s enclosure, prattling on about nothing at all. Thank god no one else was there to hear him.

“Jimmy never tells me anything,” he complained. “Neither of you do. Yesterday I didn’t even know this was something you could do, and now here you are, dead to the world or whatever. It’s freaking me out. Couldn’t you at least have closed your eyes?”

Grian didn’t answer. He sat perfectly still atop his llama, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere off in the distance. Joel followed his line of vision, but he didn’t see much of anything in that direction.

“I’m not really mad, you know,” he said. “Just—I’m worried about you, okay? I know that’s not very bad of me, but I can’t help it. I know Jimmy’s worried too, he worries about everything.”

The uncomfortable silence lingered a little too long for Joel’s taste. Finally, the llama interrupted with a loud bray right in his ear, making him jump almost a foot in the air.

“Oi! Don’t do that.” Joel glared at the llama, who stared right back at him. The stupid llama looked more alert than Grian did. “You better not tell Jimmy I’m sat over here worrying, alright, ‘cause I’m doing just fine. Having a fantastic time out here all by myself.”

If Grian was listening, Joel hoped he was convinced. That would make one of them, at least.

—

“Oh, good, there you are, Grian,” Martyn told Grian’s unmoving form. “I’m really sorry I killed you. It was self-defense, I swear. I hope this doesn’t make us enemies when you get back, but for now we just need to get you somewhere safe.”

He started digging down, taking Grian along with him. Hopefully Joel and Jimmy wouldn’t attack him again, because he really didn’t want Grian to die a third time. He hadn’t wanted him to die a second time either, but it had all happened so quickly.

“I hope you’re doing alright,” he told Grian as he dug, “whatever you’re up to. Kick some ass. Or don’t, if that’s not what you’re going for.”

It wasn’t much longer before Jimmy and Joel made it back to spawn and immediately started digging down to find Grian. None of them died this time around, and Martyn managed to convince them that he wanted to protect Grian, too—especially after that death, which he did feel rather bad about. Joel and Jimmy left, leaving Martyn alone with Grian again.

“Anyway,” he said. “Like I said. Hope you’re doing okay out there. Get home safe. Don’t destroy yourself and doom the rest of us to a life of eternal torment.” He hesitated. “The occasional torment is still okay.”

Grian didn’t answer. Martyn began digging out some more space around him, boxing him into a corner. “I’ll be here if you want to talk about it, or something,” he said, feeling a bit foolish for even speaking the words. “Yeah. Whatever.”

Grian’s eyes didn’t refocus when Martyn was blocking his line of sight. Martyn placed a torch down right beside Grian’s head, just to see if his pupils would dilate.

They didn’t.

“Huh.” He took a step back, breaking the torch. “You know, maybe it’s best if we hide you a bit.”

He filled the hole he’d dug up to the surface with water, letting it fall from the ceiling right in front of Grian. That way, it’d be easier to get in and out. He needed to invite some other people down here, or he’d start to go mad.

“Hey, Cleo!” he called, faintly hearing her voice from above. “Come down here and check this out!”

—

“Here he is!” Martyn said, making a ta-da gesture with both arms. “He looks just like a fortune teller, doesn’t he?”

He does,” Cleo agreed. “The water does him a lot of favors. Hard to tell there’s anything the matter with him.”

She peered through the water stream at Grian, who stood perfectly upright, staring right through her. The water obscured most of what was uncanny about him, but it couldn’t hide his impeccable posture. The real Grian was always hunching his shoulders, bending his knees, constantly plotting his next move, but this Grian reminded her more of a mannequin than of himself.

“What’s her fortune, Grian?” she heard Martyn ask.

Cleo laughed, idly brushing her fingers against the now-dried blood she’d smeared over her cheeks. “That I’ll die an untimely death, most likely.”

“I’d say that applies to all of us, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm.” She took her eyes off Grian for a moment to give Martyn a scrutinizing look. “You wouldn’t happen to know what he’s up to, would you?”

“Oh, I haven’t got a clue,” Martyn said. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

She took a step closer. “I do hope you’d know better than to lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t lie about this, Cleo. Grian and I, we…we don’t talk much about this kind of thing.”

Cleo believed him. When Martyn started sounding pathetic, he was usually being honest.

“What about back home?” Martyn asked. “Does he talk about this stuff on Hermitcraft?”

“Not to me,” Cleo said dismissively. “You’d have to go to Pearl about that, I expect. If anyone knows, Pearl knows.”

“Then why don’t you ask her?” Martyn suggested.

“Pearl’s not so easy to threaten,” Cleo said, allowing a small smile to creep across her face. “Besides, it’s really none of my business. He’ll be back soon enough.”

“Right, yeah. Of course.”

Cleo had no reason not to take Grian at his word—or Joel and Jimmy at theirs, since they were the ones that had passed on Grian’s message. But she couldn’t help wondering what would happen if Grian didn’t return in a timely fashion. Would they leave him here for the rest of the game, letting his clock run out naturally? Would red players flock to him, unable to resist the temptation of an easy kill?

“Let’s get some other people down here to have their fortunes read,” she said briskly. “Keep him company.” No use letting herself brood over hypotheticals.

—

“Hi, Grian!” Scar said. “I’m so sorry, but it had to happen. Thank you.”

“Scar, this isn’t a confessional,” Bdubs laughed at him. “He’s a fortune-teller.”

“Hey, it can be whatever you want it to be,” Scott said. “For Scar it’s a confessional, for the rest of us it’s fortune-tellings…”

“Thank you, Scott.” Scar hopped into the water stream, poking his head out on the other side so he could breathe. “I’m sorry I killed you, Grian, but it was part of the moment. You understand the moment, I’m sure. Things happen!”

When he opened his eyes a moment later, he realized how close he was. Grian’s eyes were hollow and unblinking, and his lips were pressed firmly together, neither smiling nor frowning. If Scar didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was looking at a statue of Grian, not his real human body.

He pulled back as quickly as he could without making it look like he was panicking, and turned his back on Grian entirely as he faced the others. “That’s a relief. He said he forgives me!”

No one seemed impressed, but Scar didn’t care. There were too many people around for him to say what was really on his mind, anyway.

—

“This is weird,” Etho said.

Until right this second, he hadn’t fully considered how weird it would be to talk to Grian one-on-one like this. He hadn’t gotten a good look at Grian in all the chaos earlier, so this was his first time taking it all in.

“Cleo said I should go talk to you,” Etho said, “and I guess she was right, because this is really putting things into perspective. Like, sure, I spent a ton of time mining today and only found two diamonds, and then I died to a creeper! But it could be lot worse. I could have died twice and found no diamonds.”

The worst thing about it was how subtle it was. Etho couldn’t put his finger on anything specifically wrong, but he could feel the tension in the air just from his proximity to Grian. Grian’s…body. His temporarily unused body.

“I’m about to turn yellow, actually,” Etho said. “Two minutes. Comin’ up pretty soon, and I think I’m gonna go kill somebody once it happens. ‘Course, you’re already yellow, so you’re safe.”

Grian didn’t answer. Etho shuffled his feet, wondering how long this conversation was supposed to go on.

“And you know what?” he said. “Bdubs said he’d ditch Scar and Cleo for me in a heartbeat. His exact words.” Grian did not seem shocked to hear it.

“I don’t really know what to do with that,” Etho admitted. “I don’t really know what to do with Bdubs in general, but you know what I mean. I swear, sometimes I think we have polar opposite brains—I don’t know how we put up with each other.

“Bdubs loves swearing his undying loyalty to people—well, mostly to me, I think. Hard to wrap my head around it sometimes, but there’s only two outcomes, y’know? Either he’s lying, which would be bad, obviously, or he means, it, which…

“Well. We’ve done this whole thing before. I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I don’t know if I want to betray my whole team for him or whatever. Which is dumb, right? It’s just a silly game, I know they’ll all forgive me after it’s over, but Bdubs…we don’t have a great track record in these games, the two of us.

“I guess you’d understand that better than anyone.”

Grian didn’t answer.

“This was weird,” Etho said. “This was really weird. I’m gonna go.”

He took one last look at Grian before he returned to the surface. Grian still hadn’t moved, but then again, maybe he had. Maybe he was moving so slightly that Etho didn’t even notice. Usually Etho was a pretty perceptive guy, but he had his blind spots.

“You better not tell Bdubs,” he said, and left.

—

“Hey, Grian!” Impulse said. “Heard you had a rough time this session, huh?”

He’d already seen Grian when the boogeyman had been chosen, but Impulse was very distracted at the time. Without a bunch of people laughing and talking around him, Grian looked downright ghostly, and Impulse couldn’t say it wasn’t getting to him.

“I’m sorry you died,” he said. “I feel really bad about that, even though I didn’t have anything to do with it. Funny, right? I had something to do with someone else’s death, and I don’t feel bad about that at all. Not sure what’s up with that.”

Grian’s blank expression was a little warped through the water, and for a moment, Impulse almost thought Grian was giving him a look of exasperation. “Okay, okay,” Impulse said, “I know exactly what’s up with it. I guess I can be honest with you, since you’re kinda down for the count right now. We’re all here to let loose, right? Nothing wrong with a bit of murder between friends! It’s just a game, and Pearl and I will go back to being friends again once it’s over.”

Grian didn’t answer, but that was okay. Impulse didn’t want anyone else to hear what he was about to say. It was a good thing Martyn had set this up, because after a long day of contemplating murder, it was getting difficult for him to keep his thoughts to himself.

“I’m planning on killing Bdubs when I get to red.” He let out a long sigh of relief. “Gosh, that feels good to admit. Been keeping that one quiet for a while. I’ve always wanted to have one of those big dramatic moments like the rest of you, and I’ve never gotten the chance. It's only fair, right? Sure, winning would be nice, but all I can really think about is the moment I finally get my turn to do something people will remember.

I don’t think that’ll make a big difference to my teammates—not to Tango and Skizz, at least, they’re not the biggest fans of Bdubs right now. But I can’t help thinking if I had to choose between keeping my team safe or focusing on my plan, I’m not sure I would—”

He paused, hearing some noises from up above. “Skizz and Tango are on their way, I think—yeah, here they come.” Impulse took a step back to let Tango and Skizz out of the water. “Hey, guys!”

“Hey, Impulse!” Tango said, stepping over the cobblestone base of the water stream. “Did I hear you talking about us?”

“All good things, I’m sure,” Skizz added, jumping out behind him.

“Of course! I was just telling Grian about our beautiful new tower,” Impulse said, prompting an irritated noise from Tango. “He said all the best towers are asymmetrical nowadays.”

They seemed to believe him, thankfully. And if Grian had heard any of Impulse’s secrets, he didn’t breathe a word.

—

“Hey, Grian. Just checking to see if you were back yet before I went to sleep.”

Pearl had seen Grian like this before, here and there, but it didn’t make it any easier. Even after everything, she wasn’t immune to getting the creeps.

“A lot happened today,” she told him. “Lots of people died. Including me! Twice! I thought I had this one in the bag, you know, and now look at me, I’m yellow! Though admittedly, there’s a lot of that going around.”

Pearl was pretty comfortable talking to Grian like this. She’d tested him before, telling him all manner of secrets and bits of gossip that came to mind. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist bringing it up afterwards, and he’d never mentioned any of it to her.

“I just can’t get into it like I did last time,” she admitted. “Playing to win seems a little pointless, doesn’t it? I already found out what happens when I win. It doesn’t fix anything. I really wish you’d warned me.

“I don’t know how you still manage it. You’ve kept trying to win all the way through every one of these games. I’m not sure I want to keep trying anymore.”

She poked him in the stomach, just for good measure. If all else failed, she’d always be able to get a reaction out of Grian that way. He didn’t move, which was proof enough for her.

“Thanks, Grian,” Pearl sighed. “Good luck out there.”

—

“Well, hey there, Grian! Thought I’d stop by one last time.”

Everyone else had gone to sleep for the night, but Scar couldn’t keep himself away. He’d waited for spawn to be deserted as long as he dared, but Grian had told everyone he’d only be gone for a day, and Scar didn’t want to miss his chance. “Can you hear anything people have been saying to you?” he asked.

Grian didn’t answer.

“I’m just going to assume you can’t, for the sake of my own well-being.” Scar checked his watch, still ticking down the time as merrily as ever. He could swear that his timer had gone a little wonky in Grian’s absence, though it was hard to tell in all the chaos. He’d killed five people today, but hadn’t gotten full credit for all of them. Hopefully Grian would set things straight when he got back.

Grian had been one of those kills, and even hours later, Scar’s head was still rushing from it. He sat back against the wall, facing the opposite direction from Grian. Scar had learned his lesson earlier about getting up close and personal with him.

“I said I was sorry, earlier,” Scar said. “I don’t know how true that is.”

He felt bad almost immediately after saying it. “I shouldn’t say that. I do feel bad, you know! I’m not like—like you, or Joel, or Bdubs, I guess. I love causing some chaos, but things settle down and I start regretting it a little. And I do regret it, but I don’t feel sorry, and I’m not sure why.

“I’m sorry for not being sorry, I guess.”

Grian didn’t answer. Usually when Grian was silent, which was really only when he was asleep, Scar could listen for his breathing. This time, he heard nothing but the trickling water between them.

Grian had always been a constant, in more ways than one. Scar could depend on him to stir things up whenever they were getting too boring. He could always count on finding Grian, if not in the center of the action, then right on the edge instead, either orchestrating the chaos or just observing it—drawn there like a magnet the way Scar was drawn to him. But the one thing Scar never thought he’d lose was the simple fact of Grian’s physical presence.

Scar had thought about killing Grian plenty of times, but the only time he’d managed to do it was when Grian wasn’t Grian at all. No death cry, no promise of vengeance. Not even a breath.

“Don’t worry,” he said, turning his head to the side to catch Grian’s silhouette in the corner of his vision, as close as he was willing to get. “I’ll make it up to you. Once you get back, I’ll work up the nerve to kill you for real. I’ll make you proud.”

Grian didn’t answer, but Scar could envision his smile. Not his feverish post-death laughter, but the softer, rarer expression of fondness he made when he thought no one was looking. Scar had caught only wisps of it in the past, but if he squinted, he could almost see it through his lashes.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep like that, leaning up against the wall of a tiny cave in the ground. But he couldn’t resist the thought of Grian waking him up the next morning, with either a friendly smile or a sword through his stomach.

“Goodnight, Grian,” he said.

Grian didn’t answer, which was just fine with Scar. It was safer that way.

—

if you read this all the way through and enjoyed, please consider reblogging!

(also, since i've been asked about previous fics, you're welcome to interpret and tag this as shipping if you like. i intentionally left it up to interpretation.)

#grian #goodtimeswithscar #smallishbeans #inthelittlewood #zombiecleo #ethoslab #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #limited life spoilers #my stuff #my writing #lml

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ghost-bxrd · 7 months

Note

So I posted this on my blog, but I really wanted to share it directly with you. This AU has me in a chokehold, and I literally woke up in the middle of night dreaming about this, so imagine:

Based on @lynzine‘s prompt: Dick hears Red Hood make chirps or hoots, and then freaks out thinking Red Hood is a member of the Court and is targeting Tim.

So, what if, instead of Dick offering himself up as a sacrifice, Dick gets angry.

Dick hunts down the Red Hood, stalking him all over Gotham. When Dick sees him, he immediately attacks with the intent to kill. (The court wants his owlet. He already lost one, he can’t loose this one, he will not fail—). Jason doesn’t want to fight Dick, but Dick is vicious.

And the fight just confirms Dick’s assumption that Jason is a part of the Court. Because not only does Jason probably have some training from Dick himself — back when he was Robin — but now he has even more assassin training via the League. Dick sees this, and he’s so so convinced this is a member of the court—

But then part of the helmet cracks and falls off. Part of Jason’s face (his owlet’s face) is visible.

Dick freezes.

Jason shoots.

(It’s not fatal, but it’s a close thing.)

Bruce rescues Dick, but Jason is long gone by then. Between the shock and the injuries, everything is kinda hazy for him. But Dick knows what he saw, and he realizes… he just tried to kill his owlet. His owlet is alive again, somehow, and Dick almost killed him again.

Dick becomes depressed and devastated, which results in him basically ignoring everyone — including Tim. He stops making nests and refuses to cuddle. He becomes almost catatonic.

But that’s okay. Tim’s worried for Dick. Tim’s used to being ignored.

Danggggg, okay, ooookay, I see you went for even more angst! Which I can totally respect, but still, how dare you 😭 alright, okidoki, let’s get to angsting my friend!

So we know that Jason’s beef probably wouldn’t be with Dick if he were to resurrect like in canon, mostly because, well, Joker made it a hot day after killing Jason before Dick tracked him down and distributed him all over Gotham like confetti.

As such it would stand to reason that Dick attacking Hood wasn’t part of the plan. The altercation happened by chance and, ok, fair, Jason was kind of targeting Tim so mayyybe he should have counted on that. What he DIDN’T count on was his mask coming off and Dick just—- freezing. And there’s this split second of absolute horror in both their eyes— for Dick because he thinks the Court took his owlet’s dead body without him noticing, and for Jason because he already pulled the trigger but dick isn’t moving out of the way—

Jason flees, only staying long enough to press a trembling hand to Dick’s pulse point and ascertain that Dick is alive— that he didn’t kill his brother, before fleeing and leaving Bruce and Tim to pick up the pieces.

Dick is adrift for a long while and neither Bruce or Tim can figure out what’s wrong because Dick refuses to tell them what happened, that Jason is alive. Because now that Dick knows— he’s terrified. And guilt ridden.

Somehow, he missed the Court taking Jason’s body. And now he thinks his owlet had been subjected to the same horrors that Dick was, turned into the same monster Dick spent years believing himself to be. And Dick— Dick is a talon. Dick will always BE a talon. He should have realized that Hood is Jason. Should have realized that’s his owlet under that helmet, instead he attacked him, aimed to kill him, and Dick knows how deep betrayal can run when you’re running mostly on instinct and half remembered emotions. Dick had Jason, Jason saved him when he all Dick knew was how to kill, and when Jason came back to him after Dick thought him lost forever—- Dick attempted to kill him.

Jason is… confused. And reluctantly worried. Batman and Robin are rarely seen on the streets after the altercation and Nightwing is gone altogether. He knows he didn’t kill Dick. He made triple sure of it. Even went as far as to sneak onto manor grounds and hang out in a tree until he’d caught a glimpse of the talon.

I think Jason wouldn’t be able to curb is growing concern for long, maybe a couple weeks, before he goes back and breaks into the manor while Batman and Robin are out on the streets hunting rumors of the Red Hood’s whereabouts

(Jason is horrified when he finds Dick sprawled listlessly in a heap of blankets that certainly looks like someone tried to arrange it into a nest, but failed miserably.)

#hi I took your angst and made it FLUFF #but!#and you may consider this a threat hehehehe #if you come back at me with more angst I promise I WILL make this even angstier #MWAHAHA #entering my villain era #or trying to #is there such a thing as soft villains?#like a club or something?#cuz I’d like to join #jason todd #dick grayson #talon dick grayson #owl song #ghost talks

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hikari-writes · 1 year

Text

character: konoha akinori [haikyuu!!]

warning: none, just konoha comforting stressed out reader, comfort fluff

words: 1.7k

a/n: yes i am shamelessly promoting my "konoha akinori as the best housemate ever" agenda join my cult 🧍🧍🧍this is for @sugardaddyreo 's "The Home Collab" !!! i literally screamed when i saw the masterlist for this collab i cant believe i got a perfect opportunity to write abt roomie konoha my beloved aojdiwjdie so thank u so much for hosting!!! 🙏🙏 sorry this took a long time 😭😭but thanks to u i had lots of fun making it <3333 if im gonna be honest- i definitely ddint expect itd be this long ---

You didn't talk much with Konoha Akinori. Not that you didn't want to, but it's more because of your clashing schedules. It's weird, considering the fact that you both share the same house, yet you can count with only two hands the number of times you have spoken to him.

Komi had been the one to introduce you to Konoha during your search for a house.

"He could use a roommate or two to divide the house rent with," your friend grinned and you considered that it's not such a bad option. You had never met this Konoha guy before but if he's a best friend of Komi, you figured that he's gotta be a pretty decent person.

And you were right. Well, sort of. You just assumed he was since you never had much interaction with him in the first place, even after 3 months of living together. You hate to admit it, but even after such a long time had passed, you barely knew anything about him besides his name. To say you two regarded each other as ghosts in your own house would sound like an overstatement, but it's sort of true.

With all that said, why was that Konoha Akinori holding your head against his chest, letting it rest there, while gently patting your back?

Let me take you back to a few hours prior to this.

That week had been awful for you. Extremely awful. All you wanted to do after leaving your workplace was to curl up in your bed, and probably cry yourself to sleep. That’s all. But even dragging your body to your bedroom was too much of a work, so instead you settled on lying down on the living room sofa. Did you care that your housemate’s probably gonna see you in your miserable state out in the open? No, rather, you’d thought that he’s going to pretend like he didn’t see it. After all, it’s not as if you guys were close enough for him to inquire about your wellbeing.

You heard the creaking noise of your shared apartment’s door opening. Your face still buried deep into the sofa cushion, you ignored it. ‘He’s home much earlier today,’ you thought to yourself. As expected, you didn’t hear anything afterwards, and you assumed he’d made his way into his bedroom. But when you felt a presence sitting down beside the sofa, you came to the realisation that maybe your assumption had been wrong after all.

A few seconds passed by with no words exchanged between you two. It made you think that maybe you were just imagining things and Konoha wasn’t really there besides you. Not too long after that however, he spoke up.

“Hey…are you alright?”

You could’ve just said yes and let him leave. You could’ve just made up an excuse on the spot, it’s really not that hard. Why would you need to confide in him when he’s just a stranger you’re sharing your living space with? But as soon as he asked that, a million different emotions washed over you in an instant. It’s a simple, and not to mention an overused question, but maybe that’s just what you needed at the moment. You couldn’t help the sob that escaped you. He wrapped his arms around your shaking figure, silently comforting you. At that moment, your soft weeping was the only thing echoing throughout the room.

And so, that was what led you to this point. He allowed your head to rest comfortably on his chest while he listened to whatever your problems had been. He was a good listener, and even offered encouraging words to help lift up your spirit. You never expected that, and you must admit that you were impressed.

“Oh right, I almost forgot,” Konoha gently rose up from his seat after he was done talking, and it took all of your willpower to not stop him from leaving your side. Your eyes curiously followed him to the kitchen. He took out a tub of ice cream from the fridge, one that just happened to be your favourite flavour. After he took a couple of spoons from the cupboard, he made his way back to the living room where you were with a grin.

“Thought this might help. It’s your favourite, right?”

You simply blinked at him, stunned.

“How did you know that?”

“We’ve lived in the same apartment for months now, I think I would at least be able to notice this much,” his reply was nonchalant, but it made you feel a bit guilty since you never noticed anything about him. ‘Maybe he’s just really observant…or I’m the one who’s too ignorant of my own surroundings,’ you silently concluded.

You took a spoonful of the ice cream, followed by Konoha, and could feel your heart lightening up just a little at the coolness of the dessert. Konoha began to reach for the tv remote and switched it on, going through a selection of shows that you both could enjoy together. You turned to him when a question popped up in your mind.

“I’ve never seen this one in the fridge before. Did you just buy it?”

He looked surprised by that question, and it took him a moment to reply to it. He coughed once, as if he’s trying to cover up his increasingly red cheeks.

“Well…yeah. Uh…It’s just…I noticed that this week you looked extremely tired. I thought that maybe buying you your favourite ice cream could help make you feel better so… I picked it up on my way home just now.”

He looked away, embarrassed at his own confession. Either he’s really observant, just as you’d concluded earlier, or your fatigue and stress were that visible. Either way, you felt your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. You choked back another sob before softly whispering a thank you. You weren’t sure whether he heard that or not, but from the corner of your eyes, you could see him turning his face back towards you and his hands softly placed atop your head.

A few more minutes passed by, and you could feel yourself calming down from the earlier outburst. With the ice cream tub in your hand and shoulder leaned against Konoha’s, you both continued to watch the show on the tv in silence, minus the occasional funny commentary you both gave towards the characters in the show.

Despite the energy it took off of you for all that crying, your eyes didn’t feel quite sleepy yet. There was still something on your mind. You glanced at Konoha. He didn’t look like he’s about to fall asleep anytime soon either.

“Hey, Konoha?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m..sorry.”

He looked at you with a puzzled look, so you continued.

“For burdening you with my problems even though we’ve barely even talked before. And speaking of that, I’m sorry for not trying harder to close the gap between us….even though we’re supposed to be housemates and all.”

Konoha looked contemplative for a moment before giving you a playful grin.

“If that’s the case, why don’t we start over then,” he replied with an outstretched hand.

“The name’s Konoha Akinori. I'm 24 years old and I work as an employee at a pharmaceutical company. I’ll be in your care from now on, roomie.”

You had to process his words for a moment before taking his outstretched hand in yours, shaking it.

“Same here…roomie.”

Your reply came with a grateful smile that graced your lips. It was the first time he’d seen that bright of a smile from you. He could feel the heavy weight in his chest lightening up. He'd been worried for you ever since he first noticed how distressed you were. Now that he finally saw the genuine smile on your face, he felt relief washed over his entire body and he found himself smiling alongside you.

"If anything ever gets too much for you, well…just know that I'm always here to help. Don’t shoulder them all by yourself.”

He ruffled your hair, messing it up even more than it already was, before standing up from the sofa.

“You should go to bed. It’s late already,” he suggested, eyes still on you. You were about to nod at his suggestion when he grinned cheekily.

“Or if you’re having trouble sleeping, I can help lull you to sleep.”

‘...this little shit.’

You narrowed your eyes at him and racked your brain to come up with a snarky comeback. You stopped yourself when you came to a sudden conclusion.

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I’d love for you to sing me a lullaby. I do wonder what kind of angelic voice you have.”

It was your turn to tease him and his eyebrows squeezed together into a frown. He turned his face away from you, but you could still see his slightly red ears. You then made your way into your bedroom, with Konoha silently following behind you.

It’s funny now that you think about it. Just a few months ago, you were struggling to hold a proper conversation with him. But now, after properly talking to him for the first time for only a couple hours, you could easily tease each other like you’ve known each other your whole life. Talking with Konoha wasn't as stifling as you had feared. The reason you were able to talk to him so casually was also thanks to him making the flow of the conversation so natural. At that moment, you genuinely admired your housemate as the man that he is.

You climbed up onto your bed while Konoha took a nearby chair in your room and placed it at your bedside.

“So you’re actually going to sing me a lullaby?”

“Shaddup.”

He gently slapped a hand on your face, covering your eyes, before heaving a sigh and started singing. It was a gentle tune, and paired with his voice, it didn’t take you long to fall into a deep slumber.

Once he saw your steady breathing, he stopped and took his hand off of your face. With his chin resting on his palm, he stared absentmindedly at your sleeping figure.

‘Did I just earn myself a housemate or a kid to babysit?’ He wondered to himself, gently scoffing at his own question. Right before he walked himself out of your room, he turned his head one last time and smiled.

“Sweet dreams, y/n.”

#🏠.if walls could talk #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu konoha #haikyuu konoha akinori #haikyuu konoha akinori x reader #haikyuu konoha x reader #konoha akinori #konoha x reader #konoha akinori x reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fukurodani

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frozenjokes · 6 months

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CuteGuy Would Prefer Greatly If HotGuy Never Ever Had Any Nice Things, But Especially Not His Good Friend And Roommate Cubfan135 (2/3)

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Grian, as CuteGuy, landed softly on the other side of the parking lot, tucking his wings non-threateningly at his back. Calm. Cool. Relaxed. He hadn’t been home when Cub left to meet HotGuy, but Grian knew well enough Cub would be timely, and with any luck, a little early. With no one in the empty parking lot, Grian wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, but he didn’t have to wait long before he spotted Cub down the street, absorbed in his music as always. Sure enough, Cub didn’t even notice CuteGuy as he entered the parking lot, only spotting him after sitting down on the curb and looking up, presumably for HotGuy.

It didn’t feel tense when their eyes met. Cub didn’t look afraid. Part of Grian was deeply relieved; he cared very little about how the world viewed him, preferring they feared him if they felt anything at all, but.. Not Cub. He didn’t want Cub to be afraid. The other part of him was worried; did Cub not fear him because he recognized him? Not CuteGuy the villain, but Grian, who he thought was staying out of trouble and getting help- and it wasn’t that Grian wasn’t trying to get help. He was getting better, really! He hadn’t gotten into any fights as ‘Grian’ in weeks- hadn’t gotten arrested in over two months! But no amount of therapy could keep him calm in tense encounters or high stress moments; thinking about how he’d make it right, how he’d get them back later. That did it. Those sentiments brought the air back into his lungs.

“Should I leave?” Cub asked, a healthy caution behind his voice.

“I’d rather you stayed. I don’t want to hurt you,” Grian forced his voice lower as he spoke, hoping Cub couldn’t tell, and cursed himself for not thinking to practice. He sounded stupid. And given the small quirk of Cub’s eyebrow, Grian didn’t sound sincere, either.

“I don’t want to hurt you, either. But I do have pepper spray. Just so you’re aware. And it hurts. I know this from personal experience.” Cub paused briefly in a silent debate with himself, “I was curious. Mistake.”

Grian chuckled, but he couldn’t laugh too hard, not when he was there, and not when he had also pepper sprayed himself in some sort of horrible solidarity. Bad day. Horrible judgment from all sides, mostly because they had no one else to look out for them, literally as well as metaphorically. Top five dumbest things Grian had ever done, for sure. Even thinking about that day was enough to make his skin itch and burn. But there was a fondness there too, the type of fondness you can only achieve by doing something incredibly, irrefutably idiotic with your best friend.

“I’ve been there. Not eager to go back, either, so I’ll keep my distance if that’s what keeps you comfortable. I’d like to sit though, if that’s alright.”

Cub shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“You can say no.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Cub eyed him evenly, not unfriendly as was often assumed about him, but cautious, appraising. It was a little bit funny. Cub looking at CuteGuy, a fairly well known supervillain, the way he’d look at any stranger; gauging intention. Cub didn’t navigate the world under the assumption that everyone was out to get him, but he was also the kind of person that liked knowing, and a Cub in the dark was not a Cub at ease. Grian hoped he’d be able to get Cub to relax with him before HotGuy arrived, but that would be no easy feat, not as CuteGuy. Cub was smart; he probably suspected CuteGuy knew HotGuy was coming. This was not a chance meeting. CuteGuy wanted something. And Cub wasn’t wrong, not really.

“You can,” Grian tried, hoping again he sounded genuine, but in these forced lower tones, it was hard to accurately get the emotions he was aiming for across. Grian wondered if Cub noticed the oddness in his voice, and was immediately sure of the answer. But Cub wouldn’t say a word, not to the avian known for being quick to anger.

“Well in that case, I don’t mind,” Cub said, almost dismissive as he looked back at his phone. Grian couldn’t quite tell if Cub actually did mind or not, but he sat on the curb regardless, not too close, but not far either. Grian winced at the thought of being pepper sprayed. He wouldn’t see it coming, that he was sure of; Cub was very good at concealing his tells. “Just so you know,” Cub continued after a moment, almost thoughtful, “HotGuy will be here soon. I’ve heard you two don’t get along, and, well..” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely, but Grian got the message.

“I don’t know about that,” he said, the line vindictively practiced, and Grian couldn’t keep the smirk off his face, “Heroes are fickle things. I have a feeling HotGuy will be late, if he even shows up at all.”

Cub nodded, though Grian wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. “What’s he up to then, if you know?” His tone was mild, almost monotone, but there was a mutual understanding as to what was going on here. Grian knew better than anyone that Cub knew how to play his cards, and that he wouldn’t sit idly in the dark if he thought he could get away with it. Grian couldn’t remember a time when Cub had judged a confrontation incorrectly, or pushed his luck too far.

“Poultry Man made a bit of a mess on the other side of town. Left a message specifically for HotGuy, and if you didn’t know, HotGuy’s been dying to chat with him. As if Poultry Man would speak to anyone.” Grian laid back across the curb, spreading his wings in the grass. “No need to ask. I was involved, of course. We look out for each other, Poultry Man and I, but I just wanted to make sure you knew exactly where HotGuy’s priorities lie. Believe me when I tell you that you’re far from the only man he’s chasing. In every sense of the word.”

“What did he do?”

“What?”

“Poultry Man? What did he do?” It was a perfectly amicable, almost innocently curious question. Grian knew better than to take Cub at face value, but his facade was rock hard, and Grian had no idea what he was actually feeling.

“Told me he was saving these nails and things, sharp, sturdy stuff, and that he was going to dump a whole bunch of them in various parking lots of government buildings. They’re painted, of course. Like chickens. I don’t know how he was planning on leaving a message for HotGuy, but I’m sure he managed.”

Cub chuckled, which Grian didn’t expect, expecting even less for Cub to look genuinely amused. “I like that guy.”

“You-“ Grian felt his heart stop, or maybe beat faster, “You like Poultry Man?”

“Yeah. I kinda do.” Cub didn’t elaborate. Grian didn’t really expect him too, but he desperately wished Cub would. Well. He’d have to push for answers if he wanted any at all.

“I don’t understand how you can like Poultry Man and HotGuy. They’re like- complete opposites. Egg themed rebellion versus pathetic attention-hungry bootlicking, it’s not anywhere near compatible.”

“I wouldn’t go as far to say that I like bootlickers. I don’t.”

I know you don’t. Words Grian almost said, but couldn’t, so he settled on, “Well, given that’s basically HotGuy’s entire job, you may want to reconsider.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? HotGuy is like the government’s top lap dog! He isn’t even that good at what he does- he’s just got a tragic backstory and a chiseled body, so the whole damn world can’t help but fall for him. He’s going to use you until he gets bored, then dump you, because he’s HotGuy and he can do whatever the hell he wants without paying the price.”

“I just mean that I don’t know. It’s as simple as that. I don’t know him. But I’d like to. We’ll see.”

“You’re going to get hurt.”

Cub threw him a critical side eye, the type of look a winner might wear, the type of look that let Grian know he had made a mistake. Almost agonizingly, Cub did not gloat or hold this victory of gleaned information over Grian’s head; he just sat there, silent, contemplative. He gave Grian nothing. No hints of his thoughts or feelings. Cub knew he didn’t have to. He knew just as well as Grian did that Grian would keep talking, keep losing ground, keep revealing too much. But still, Grian couldn’t stop. It was fine, fine that Cub knew he was emotionally invested in some way, but clearly this wasn’t working, so it was time for a pivot. Throw him off.

“I think you can do better. I think you deserve better. My hands are plenty dirty, but not any more than his.”

Cub blinked, looking up. There were a mix of emotions there that not even Grian could decipher, but the fact that he even bothered to look at all showed interest. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Grian had Cub’s attention now, and he wasn’t about to let go, “You can play with heroes and see where it gets you, or cut the shit and have a little fun. Do you want to play games, or is it easier to believe HotGuy’s any different than me?”

“I don’t think HotGuy hurts people on purpose.”

“How many accidents need to happen before the people he hurts are a product of careless negligence. That’s what he is, Cub, careless. And no matter what he does, no matter how many people die under his watch, he will never be punished.”

“Good point.”

“How does it feel to put your heart in the hands of someone who’s above the law?”

“I think you’re making quite a few assumptions, CuteGuy.”

“I can see where this is going.”

“And you think I’d be better off with you? I don’t believe we’ve met, stranger. If I didn’t know any better, I might think you’re only here to spite HotGuy.”

“The things I’m telling you are true.”

“They are. And I’ll keep them in mind. But I’m not looking to trade out one interest for another, so you don’t have to pretend like you care.” Cub turned back to his phone. Grian gritted his teeth behind closed lips.

“I think you’re cute.” Distantly, Grian heard footsteps, the fast, heavy footfalls of someone running very quickly. Cub heard them too, but he didn’t look up, so Grian didn’t either.

“I’m sure you do,” Cub said.

“I do.”

“Well thanks. I think I’m cute, too.”

“He’ll treat you carelessly.” The footsteps were louder now, quite close.

“I’ll make that judgment for myself.”

“Hey!” HotGuy yelled from the other side of the parking lot, but apparently that was all he had in him, hunching over with his hands on his knees and panting. He jogged the rest of the way, chest still heaving, and spoke as he neared the curb, “Is,” HotGuy had to stop, not having enough air to form the words, “this guy,” another pause, shorter this time, “bothering you?” The last words fell with what looked like a massive effort, HotGuy, hunching again to breathe.

“Not really,” Cub said, not put off in the slightest. Grian didn’t bother to get up, only snorting as HotGuy caught his breath. Though that seemed to set him off, the hero jolting upright to fix Grian with a fiery glare.

“You know, I am fed up with you!”

Grian choked on his own laugh, “Fed up? You’re fed up with me?”

“I am!” if HotGuy understood Grian was laughing about his choice of words, he didn’t show it, “I can not believe you sent me on a wild goose chase tonight, when I told you I had plans! And why- why are you talking like that? You’re going to mess up your throat; I had to take tons of voice lessons to-“

“You know, I think we should go.” Cub stood up, definitive in his tone, but HotGuy didn’t move.

“Where are we going?” Grian asked, and HotGuy seethed; honestly, Grian was having trouble telling if he was legitimately pissed off or not. Cub fixed him with a glare of his own, which Grian was not expecting, and couldn’t stop himself from shrinking under the look.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” HotGuy hissed through gritted teeth, drawing his bow, and at this point, Grian was pretty sure he was actually angry. Cub had backed off considerably at this point, but behind HotGuy, Grian saw him stiffen, a far more real look of terror crossing his face.

“You can show me whatever it is you wanted to later,” Cub insisted, and Grian recognized fear in the way his voice lost all of its edge, but HotGuy clearly didn’t, not even turning around as he nocked an arrow. “No-“

Grian wasn’t about to wait around to find out if HotGuy was actually angry enough to shoot him, launching himself forward off the curb and under the line of fire as the arrow whistled by. He aimed to grapple HotGuy’s legs, but the hero had just enough time to retaliate with a weak kick, sending both of them stumbling in opposite directions.

Grian didn’t have time to look for Cub before HotGuy was closing the distance, and Grian had to roll out of the way to avoid another much stronger kick. He felt the boot graze his feathers, but HotGuy was vulnerable in the follow through, and slow; adrenaline didn’t change the fact he had run quite some distance, and in this state, it wouldn’t be long before he got tired. Grian rebalanced with a few beats of his wings, shooting forward before HotGuy could recover and sinking his claws into the hero’s shoulder pads, hooking his legs around his chest, and battering HotGuy’s head with his wings.

HotGuy yelped, spinning uselessly, but there wasn’t much he could do besides shield his face- at least, that’s what Grian had thought, but then he was falling- they were both falling, and Grian couldn’t even scream when HotGuy crushed him under his weight, knocking the wind cleanly from his chest. Blackness curled over his vision, but a glint of something sharp brought his sight back, just soon enough to see the wickedly barbed arrow in HotGuy’s fist, raised above his head.

“I promised not to shoot you.”

Grian was hardly aware of his own body as he moved, kicking up and connecting with something- he heard the crack of contact, but he didn’t stop moving, flipping back onto his hands and toes, with distance the only thought on his mind.

“FuacKing-“ Grian saw HotGuy out of the corner of his eye, stumbling with his hands over his nose, “Avians. Flexible.” Blood fell from his fingertips; dark blood, always too dark. Grian never loved to see people bleed- it didn’t satisfy him, not like fear, not like bruises, but he especially disliked HotGuy’s blood. It wasn’t right. It looked sick.

HotGuy was breathing hard already, his arms holding a slight shake. Pretty bad, even for a human. Just how far had he run before to tire out so quickly now? But before Grian could make his next move, he was distracted, his eye caught by the lack of a presence, the lack of-

A fist connected with his cheek, and Grian was violently reminded of just how fast HotGuy was, even this exhausted. If not for his wings to balance him, he would have been thrown off his feet, but HotGuy was relentless, throwing punch after punch before Grian could even hope to recover from the first. He ducked sloppily under the second, then the third, but the fourth grazed his mask, and the fifth landed squarely at the side of his head. The sixth was only dodged because Grian stumbled, and Grian didn’t even feel the seventh under his chin before he was nothing.

…

Being something again was more than unpleasant, especially being crumpled in all the wrong ways on the cement ground. Grian struggled to his hands and knees, but when he looked up, HotGuy wasn’t anywhere near him, brows hitched as he stared at his phone and paced.

HotGuy looked up at the movement, looking far more distressed than angry. “Did you tell him- tell him what this was before I got here? Why- why did you tell Poultry Man to- you made me late!”

Grian blinked, first slowly, then faster. His face hurt. Shit, if he had a black eye he was screwed. And then he remembered. Cub was gone.

He was too disoriented to lie. “Didn’t say anything. Just tried to keep him off you.”

A moment of anger flashed across Scar’s face, but it didn’t last, melting back into distress when he looked back down at his phone. “You must have said something. Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you must have- you- Why did I let you ruin this for me!”

Grian grunted, his sense returning just enough to be indignant, “It was your idea, asshole. What, did he figure out this was a set up?”

“He wouldn’t have if you didn’t come early!”

“Whatever.” Grian stumbled to his feet on wobbly legs, trying to keep some amount of his dignity intact, “You’re an idiot and he’s whip-smart. Doesn’t matter what I did, he probably would’ve found you out regardless.”

“What?” HotGuy snarked, “Did you figure all that out in the twenty minutes before I got here?”

Grian couldn’t keep the sigh out of his voice. “Yeah, actually. Played me like a damn fiddle, he did. Couldn’t break through no matter what I did. This was stupid, anyway, but I’m glad I came. I hope he’s mad. Hope he hates you forever.”

“You- you’re so immature! You lost. Feel bad about it.”

“Y’know, I think I’m just going to let you dig your own grave here.”

“I- I don’t want to deal with this right now. I don’t have to deal with this. I’m going home. You suck.” HotGuy dug around in one of his pockets, producing a small envelope, “Take your damn money.”

Grian didn’t think he could get any more surprised. “You’re actually paying me?”

“Take it. And try not to be a pain in the ass next week, so maybe I can pretend like this was worth something.”

Grian stepped forward cautiously, like a mouse to a trap, then snatched the envelope from HotGuy’s hand before the wire could snap down. But HotGuy did not move, eyes glued back on his phone.

Grian reminded himself he did not feel bad before taking off.

Time to check the damage. Not at his apartment of course, no, he had a different location for nights like these. The money couldn’t have come at a better time; he was running out of foundation, and getting low on concealer as well. Given how badly his face ached at every corner, he had a feeling he would be covering up some nasty bruises.

#idiots fuck around and find out #hermitcraft #hermitfic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #cubfan135 #cubfan #grub #cubscar #hotguy #cuteguy #poultry man #grian is cuteguy and poultryman

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drabbles-mc · 1 year

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Lost Time

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

For Day 25 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Alphabet: yearning

Warnings: 18+, smut, language, light angst

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Horacio Carrillo and his messy relationships, my beloveds 😌

Narcos Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @hausofmamadas @narcolini @cositapreciosa (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You’d lost track of the last time the two of you had spoken. The last phone call between you felt like it had happened lifetimes ago. The last face-to-face conversation? Even longer than that. You both had the feeling that it was coming. Inevitable was too strong of a word, but it was much more than probable.

It would only be so long before he really started holding it against you. You knew that was coming, too. No one got to leave him and let it be a clean break. There always had to be a little bit of a mess. He was practically hardwired for it.

Which was why you didn’t know how shocked you really were when you walked through the airport and saw him standing there waiting for you.

“Horacio?” you said, adjusting the bag on your shoulder.

“I heard you were coming home,” he said, his tone painfully neutral. “I wanted to see it for myself.”

His tone was controlled but you could see it in his eyes that there was more he wanted to say. There was more that he wanted to get into. He wouldn’t do that here, though, not in front of so many people. The look in his eyes almost made you want to remind him that Colombia might’ve been home for him, but it wasn’t home for you. Especially not once he stopped calling.

“Well,” you shrugged, “here I am.”

Your assumption was that the person getting you from the airport was going to be Steve or Javi. Someone from your team. Someone that you figured might still actually want to see you. It crossed your mind that maybe Carrillo had missed you more than his lack of letters and phone calls led you to believe. That, or he just wanted to give you a bit of a hard time and a cold shoulder about the whole ordeal. One of those felt a little more likely than the other.

He at least helped you with your bags. You had the backpack on your shoulders, pulling one rolling suitcase with you while he had the other. It was amazing to you that you’d learned to parse your life down to three bags. If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be able to do that, and that you wouldn’t feel like you were missing parts of yourself in doing so, you would’ve told them that they were insane.

He loaded everything into the back of the CNP vehicle. You made your way to the passenger seat. Just as you were going to buckle yourself in, Carrillo pulled the driver’s door open. And, just for a moment, it felt like you’d never left. There was that strange air of routine to it all. The problem was that everything else about the two of you felt different, strained in a way it never used to be.

“I was just going to head home,” you said as he put the key in the ignition, “unless they really need me there today.”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Tomorrow is fine.”

“Alright.”

“Same building, right?”

You nodded, watching as his hand maneuvered the gear-shift and put the car in drive. “Yea. Same building. Couple floors up from where I was before.” You paused, trying to cut through whatever weird lingering tension was still in the air between you. “Peña and Murphy will have to put in a little work now if they wanna come up and see me.”

You were ready for him to make a comment about that. Some remark about how you’d still have your same place, the little shoebox of an apartment that had a balcony with a view that made up for all the rest of it, if you just hadn’t up and left. You could see the comments practically dancing on the tip of his tongue. There was a slight shift in his jaw as he bit them back, and you almost wished that he’d let them fly. Him being angry with you would make the previous weeks and weeks of silence a little more understandable. Maybe even palatable.

Whatever snide remarks he’d come up with, he stored away for another time. Anger that he would take out on someone else at a later date, you were sure. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he forced out a simple, “Okay.”

When he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment building, you were ready for him to help you get your bags out, and then just leave the rest of it to you. It wasn’t as though you expected him to come up and help you unpack. Part of you was still surprised that he’d been the one to come and get you. You couldn’t tell what his angle was. You’d seen enough of his anger to know what that was like, and this wasn’t it. But it didn’t feel the same way that it used to between you either.

“I can get it from here,” you told him when he set your bags on the ground.

He shook his head. “I’ll help.”

“Horacio—”

“It’s fine.”

Of all the arguments that the two of you were practically destined to get into in the coming weeks, you weren’t going to let this be one of them. Grabbing one suitcase, you left the other for him. “Thank you.”

Slipping the key into the lock on the door, you let yourself in. You walked in first, Carrillo following close behind. You looked around the apartment as you stepped into it. It was nice enough, the way that most of the housing agents were put up in tended to be. It wasn’t luxury, but it was comfortable. That was really all you needed. You’d only be there to sleep anyway, and it wasn’t as though any of you did enough of that.

“I’d offer you a drink or something,” you told him, chuckling quietly as you dropped your backpack to the floor, “but I’m pretty sure I’ve got nothing to offer.”

“It’s alright.”

The two of you stood there in the space between your new living room and kitchen, the one patch of apartment that had nothing furnishing it. You waited for him to leave, or say something. It still felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. You watched him as he looked around, like your government-furnished apartment was suddenly the most interesting thing he’d ever seen before.

“I didn’t think that you’d be the one to come get me,” you told him honestly, cutting through the silence since he clearly had no intention to.

“Why not?”

You laughed, more out of shock than amusement. Carrillo was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. Stubborn, yes, but not stupid. There was no way that he didn’t understand what you meant, why you said it. “You didn’t even want to make a phone call, Horacio.” You shook your head. “Going out of your way to play chauffer didn’t seem like it was going to be in the cards.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to.” His response was quick, his words quiet. You were expecting an edge to his voice but found none.

“No?” you asked, still not believing him.

“I didn’t think that you were ever coming back. So,” he looked down at the floor, shaking his head, “what was the point?”

“The point?” You stepped in closer to him. “I care about you. That was the point. I figured you cared about me too. Maybe that could’ve been the point.”

“Of course I cared.” He caught himself. “Care.”

You frowned. “Cutting me out without telling me why was a weird way to show that.”

“I couldn’t keep listening to you knowing that I wasn’t ever going to see you again. Talking to you, hearing about your day,” he shook his head, “when I wasn’t part—”

“You were part of it, though,” you countered, practically chest-to-chest with him now. “That’s why I spent so much time fucking calling you, writing you. That was you being part of my day. Me being part of yours.” Tears began to sting at the edges of your eyes, emotions you hadn’t had the time to feel in months bubbling back to the surface. “Then you gave it up.”

“You left first,” he argued, but his voice was still quiet.

“But you stopped trying first.”

He wanted to tell you the truth. He wanted to be able to say it all, but words had never been his strong suit. He wanted to tell you that every night he’d get off the phone and for as much as he loved hearing your voice on the other end of the line, it felt like someone dropped a weight on his chest each time he put the phone back down on the receiver. For as much as he loved reading every letter from you, studying all the intricacies of your handwriting, having to see a return address that was so far from where he was stung. He wasn’t enough to make you stay, and the ache of missing you was one type of pain he didn’t know how to stomach.

There was only a shred of distance left between the two of you, but you erased it anyway. Resting your hand on his shoulder, you squeezed lightly. “I missed you.”

His eyes went to your hand, traveling up your arm until they finally reached your face. “I missed you too.” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax slightly as he leaned in and let his forehead rest against yours. “It’s why I stopped picking up.”

Your eyes shut, and you could feel the tears that were clinging to your eyelashes. “You should’ve said that.”

He couldn’t go back and fix what had already happened, change the things that he did or didn’t say. But he could tell you now, at least. “I stopped because it hurt, because you weren’t coming back. It felt foolish, like I was holding out hope for something that wasn’t going to—”

“But it did,” you said, cutting him off. “And we could’ve had all that time.”

It was an argument that the two of you easily could’ve kept taking in circles. He could keep saying you kicked it all off by leaving, and you could keep saying that he put the final nail in the coffin because he stopped answering your calls. You were both right, and it wasn’t getting either of you anywhere.

“And now?” he asked.

You brought your hand from his shoulder to the side of his face, thumb grazing along his cheek. “I still miss you.”

He felt the way your thumb stopped moving, the way the tips of your fingers pressed into his skin just slightly. You were almost pulling him towards you, but you stopped yourself. Like you heard the words but were still deciding what they meant, how much weight was really behind them. So instead of saying anything more, Carrillo decided that he would just show you instead.

Lifting his chin, he moved just enough to bring his lips to yours. A gesture that was supposed to be soft, a gentle punctuation to prove that he meant what he’d said to you. But the moment that he felt the soft warmth of your lips against his, all of that went out the window. The second he could feel the quick breath that you sucked in when you realized what was happening, all he could do was desperately try to pour himself into you.

His arms snaked around you, pulling himself tight to you. His lips slotted against yours, desperate and bruising. Desperate to put all those nights filled with longing and missing you into something that would actually do one of you some sort of good. He didn’t know who was getting more out of it at that point. He didn’t really care.

He was everything you remembered, all hunger and need, traces of cigarette smoke still lingering on his tongue. A filthy habit you had been on him to quit but in that moment it tasted like coming home. Your fingers curled into the stiff material of his fatigues, needing to find purchase in something to make sure it was all real, that it wasn’t just part of a cruel trick he was playing.

He stopped kissing you for a moment, but his lips were still brushing against yours as he spoke. “I missed you,” he repeated.

In all the late night and early morning calls, the letters that went back and forth, he never really said it like that. Not so concisely, so directly. Like saying it as such would’ve given it too much power, made the distance between you and the yearning that filled it a little too real and too heavy. But now you were in front of him. You were here and he was kissing you, holding you. And he could say it. It was safe to say it now because he already had you back.

You were going to tell him the same, let him know that he wasn’t alone in all of this. He never had been. But he didn’t give you the chance. His lips crashed against yours once more, none of the calculated finesse that was such a staple with the Colonel in any other capacity. It nearly knocked the wind out of you, made your knees buckle, but it didn’t matter because he was holding you tightly enough to keep you from crumbling anyway.

Suddenly he had you falling back onto the sofa. He moved you through the apartment with the ease of someone who had been spending time there with you for weeks already. You didn’t fight him on it, letting your back hit the cushions, his body pinning to yours as he followed you down. You were pulling at his shirt, untucking it from the pants of his fatigues. His hands were already working at your button and zipper, each of you trying to peel the layers off each other as quickly and as clumsily as possible.

It'd gone differently in his head, all the nights when his mind wandered and conjured up what it would be like if he got to see you again, have you again like he used to. It was never quite like this when he pictured it. He’d given himself too much credit, thinking that he would be able to hold back at all, control himself. He couldn’t. From the second he felt the warmth of your skin against his, the tickle of your breath against his jaw, there was no moderation to be found.

Next time, he thought to himself as he yanked your jeans down your legs, next time he would drag it out. He’d take his time with you. But this had all been dragged out long enough. He wouldn’t have even taken the time to bother with his shirt if you hadn’t started with it first, but that was one thing he could easily do for you. He didn’t have it in him to take his time, but he could at least give you that. It hit the floor right before the rest of his clothes.

The groan that he let out as he pushed into you set every inch of you on fire. Your nails dug into his back, raking along skin that you hadn’t been able to touch in far too long. His lips moved away from yours, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck right before his teeth sank into it. Your body drew itself to his, wanting every bit of contact you could get.

He settled inside you for a moment, hips pressed tightly to yours. For a moment all of your thoughts about Colombia not being home couldn’t have felt further from the truth. You were fighting to catch your breath and the two of you had hardly gotten started. Your eyes fluttered shut, focused on how he felt against you, hips against yours, his face in the crook of your neck. You tried to pull him tighter to you, unsure if it was even possible to do so.

The second he started to move his hips, all you had it in you to do was let his name tumble from your lips. You could feel what it did to him, the way his movements became a little more desperate. Every thrust, each press of his lips to your skin, all just trying to pull that sound from you over and over again. Trying to make up for lost nights, all the times when he wanted to hear that same breathless tone from you but couldn’t, wanted to feel the warmth of you against him but you weren’t there. It was a lot to ask when you’d only been back in Colombia for a couple of hours, but it wouldn’t be the first time the Colonel was being unfair. You didn’t mind it this time, though, as his hands slid up your thighs, moving your legs so he could push deeper into you. His lips dragged along your jaw and all the thoughts, the memories, the weight of the last few months, all of it disappeared. It was just the two of you again, finally, for however long it lasted this time.

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run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 2 years

Text

The Gift That Keeps On Giving (NSFW)

Summary: When Izzy is invited to dinner with the captain of the crew holding him for ransom, he gets a lot more than he bargained for (much to his delight).

Word Count: 5904

Izzy was on a ship. That much he knew. Large, rough hands held him by the arms, hauled him onto the ship and the winds steadily changed. He was on a ship and he was moving. He was also blindfolded. He could hear the crew moving around him, idle chatter that he couldn’t quite work out as they took their ship out to sea.

He was brought to a halt, his arms tugged against and forcing him to stand up straight. Footsteps approached, quality boots by the sound of it. The steps were mimicked by another pair of feet. Two people were approaching him.

A clap of hands. “Alright lads, what did you get me?” The voice sounded pleased. Authority dripped from their tone but not necessarily cruel.

“Blackbeard’s first mate, captain,” the man on his right spoke.

“Oh, come on now, show him some respect,” the first voice spoke again with a small tut. A few more approaching steps and Izzy could sense somebody standing in front of him. He held back a flinch when fingertips touched his cheeks, slipping under the cloth tied around his head.

He blinked as the blindfold was removed, adjusting to the late morning sun. His assumptions were correct. He was on a ship, sailing away from the port the Revenge had docked at last night, his arms held by two men and their, assumed, captain standing only a foot or two in front of him.

“This right there, is Israel Hands. Best sword in the Caribbean. I’m impressed,” you grinned, looking the man up and down before tossing the blindfold to your first mate, who stood just behind and to the right of you.

“Told you it was a fine gift,” your first mate preened, catching the cloth with ease and tucking it into their pocket.

“The best,” you agreed, flashing them a smile before turning your attention back to Izzy Hands.

He was dressed the way you had expected him to be, in all black and leather, his weapons having been removed when he was apprehended.

“What the fuck do you want?” Izzy demanded through gritted teeth.

You just smiled as he growled at you and your crew. You weren’t unreasonable, he was being held captive, you couldn’t expect him to be polite and pliant. It would have been a little disappointing if the infamous Israel Hands didn’t put up a fight.

“Well, no reason to keep you out of the loop. You’re a valuable resource, First Mate Hands. I’m sure your captain and crew will be willing to pay for your safe return,” you informed him.

“Blackbeard won’t pay a random, he’ll kill you,” Izzy scoffed. He sounded like he’s had this conversation before.

“I have faith in my crew,” you shrugged, unfazed. “Anyway, you needn’t worry for your wellbeing, harming you won’t increase the ransom. Play nice and you’ll be treated fairly.”

Izzy just glared, figuring you were patronising him. Talking to him like a child in the hopes he doesn’t fight too much.

“Where should we take him, Captain?” the man on his left asked.

You pondered it for a moment, looking him up and down again. The way you looked at him didn’t make him tense but it did make his spine tingle in an unfamiliar way, he decided it must be his body reacting to a threat. His biology had probably developed a sixth sense for it at this point.

“Put him in the hold, next to the other treasure,” you decided, sounding completely genuine, not like you were mocking him.

The crew didn’t seem surprised by this order, the two men apparently in charge of his captivity turning him around and marching him down into the ship.

Izzy didn’t fight too much, he wasn’t stupid and he had been in similar positions before. He was alone, massively outnumbered, and in the middle of the ocean. He had no chance of taking them on and winning. Maybe if your crew was more akin to Bonnet’s skeleton crew, but your ship was obviously a more typical pirate ship. Properly manned and armed. Even from his short time on the deck, he saw more crew members than the Revenge had.

He was escorted down to the hold and over to a well lit corner that was barred off like a cell. Izzy slowly took in the space as he was walked inside and released of his restraints. The cell door was already pulled shut and locked by the time he turned around.

“Do you read?” one of the men asked.

“What?” Izzy squinted at them, looking for the hidden meaning.

“Can you read? The captain wants to know.”

“...yes.”

“Any preferences?”

“...no.”

The two of them just nodded before leaving, the door to the hold closing behind them.

Izzy’s face scrunched up in confusion as he looked around his strange cell again. The corner cell was surprisingly…cosy, not a word he would usually use. There was a table and a single chair pressed against the wall. There was an actual cot rather than a shelf bed, with a stuffed pillow and a soft blanket. Fucking hell, this cot looked comfier than his one on the Revenge.

There was some material hanging by the cell bars, held back against the wall with a hook. Izzy frowned as he examined it, unhooking the material and pulling it out. He was amazed to find that it acted like a curtain on the inside of the cell, offering him some privacy.

What kind of brig was this?

“What the fuck?”

“First Mate Israel Hands?” you questioned your first mate as they followed you into your quarters.

“You’ve heard the rumours about Blackbeard, found out they were true when we were docked in the Republic. Sent some of the crew after their First Mate,” your first mate informed you.

“Brilliant,” you grinned, pouring you both a drink. “On the next raid, you get the first pick of the hoard. Take whatever the fuck you want,” you promised, handing them a glass.

“Thank you, Captain,” they raised their glass to you before taking a drink. “Knew you’d like him.”

“Let’s hope Blackbeard takes him time tracking him down,” you smirked against the rim of your glass.

Your first mate laughed, knowing you well. “Don’t go getting too possessive.”

“Me? Never!” you gasped dramatically before shooting them a playful wink.

About twenty minutes passed, by Izzy’s estimation, before a crewmember came down to the hold. They didn’t speak to him much but provided him with a decent supply of water and a book. All the crewmember really said was that the book was selected personally by the captain. Then they left him again.

Hours then passed before somebody else came for him. Hours that Izzy spent pacing the length of his cell and practically vibrating with confusion and stress. He had been in hostage situations before, plenty of pirates had, and he knew the average routine, he knew what to expect and how to react.

He had only been aboard this ship for the better part of a day but he couldn’t figure out what game they were playing. This wasn’t the standard kidnapping for ransom like he had experienced before and not knowing what to expect was like torture.

All Izzy was certain of was that this was a trap, and he refused to fall into it.

This time when somebody came for him, he recognised him as the person who stood behind the captain. Most likely the first mate.

“The Captain wants to see you for dinner,” they informed him. He only glared back, cautious more than anything, knowing better than to show weakness. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They’re inviting you for dinner and Chef is rather proud of what they put together. Be polite, eat your fill. You’ll be back here to sulk before you know it.”

There was snark in their words but a certain softness in their tone. Maybe soft was the best word to describe it but it didn’t sound like they meant him any harm.

Without any more prompting, the first mate opened the cell door and gestured for his hands. Izzy sighed and held his arms out in front of him, letting them cuff his wrists.

“Just a precaution. You were rather hostile boarding the ship. Don’t worry, the Captain understands and won’t hold it against you,” they excused.

Neither of them spoke as they led him up to the captain’s cabin. They knocked on the cabin door and waited for somebody on the other side to call out for them to enter, then walked Izzy into the cabin.

“Brought you your guest, Captain,” they announced, bringing Izzy to a halt a few feet away from the door.

“Thank you. Treated him kindly, I hope,” you placed a drink down as you crossed the cabin, approaching them.

“Of course, as ordered,” they nodded diligently.

“Go and enjoy your dinner, I can take it from here,” you dismissed them. Your first mate nodded, leaving without another word.

Izzy heard the cabin door close behind him and now your full attention was on him. All consuming but not oppressive.

“Mr Hands, I hope your quarters are to your liking. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to visit but I’m sure you understand how busy running a ship can be.” You were the perfect picture of a welcoming host, at least Izzy thought you were.

It was probably similar to something Bonnet would say to a prisoner. However, unlike Bonnet, you didn’t sound condescending and there was something imposing about you. You were being welcoming and friendly, but you were dangerous. Izzy could see that, had no doubt about it.

“That’s what you call a brig?” Izzy questioned with faux casualness.

“Oh God no,” you huffed, waving your hand dismissively like he had made a common but silly mistake. “We have a brig, of course, for those who have wronged us. You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re simply a treasure we wish to trade. Therefore, you belong in the hold, not the brig.”

He supposed your logic made sense in some demented way but now the confusion was written all over his face. You couldn’t exactly blame him for his cautiousness, you knew you ran things a little differently to most, some might even say you're eccentric, and if the rumours about Blackbeard’s ship were to be believed, it was very different to what Izzy would be used to.

“Now, I’m sure you’re hungry,” you clapped your hands together, pushing the evening on, not wanting the food to go cold.

Finally, Izzy noticed the table set with two full plates prepared. “Come, sit.” You pulled out a chair for him to sit on.

Izzy slowly approached, you didn’t rush him, and sat on the chair. He should probably play along, how bad could it be?

You flashed him an honest smile as you sat in the chair opposite him. You told him to enjoy and began to dig into your own meal. With his hands awkwardly cuffed together, Izzy picked at his food, only because you had given him another signal to eat something.

During dinner, Izzy watched you, trying to make sense of his situation.

You seemed kind enough, the perfect host really considering the situation, but he could see under that. Nobody becomes a pirate captain without the capability for ruthlessness, without the ability to carry out violence unapologetically and not let it drown them.

You commanded the respect of your crew without the use of threats, that told Izzy all he needed to know. They respected you, maybe even liked you, but trusted you would do whatever it takes to ensure they thrive. They might not fear your wrath, but they knew your enemies should.

Under the sincerity in your expression, he could see the darkness in your eyes, the look that told him his assumptions were right. You were kind and welcoming but would be able to be the exact opposite should you need to be, if Izzy gave you a reason to be. That tingle in his spine returned, making him sit up a little straighter.

You took your last bite and washed it down with some sweet wine. “You’ve barely eaten,” you observed, eyeing his plate.

He had managed some meat and potatoes but wasn’t much in the mood for a meal. “Not hungry.” Izzy expected frustration, a comment about how ungrateful he was.

“I imagine today’s events have soured your appetite,” you hummed your understanding. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been held captive but I remember not eating much either. Then again, the little food they did provide was barely edible.”

You finished your drink and stood from your seat. Walking around the table, you placed a hand on his shoulder. The light touch sent unfamiliar warmth through his body. “Come sit with me, Izzy,” you squeezed his shoulder gently before removing your hand and walking over to the little seating area.

Doing as he was told, Izzy stood and followed. You gestured to one of the two armchairs and he obeyed, taking his seat there. You sat in the armchair opposite him, a small table positioned between you both.

“What do you want?” Izzy asked. So far you had been relatively forthcoming but that only made him more suspicious. Surely, you were lying, because it would just be too easy if you were telling him the truth.

“I’ve told you. Ransom. A rather standard procedure,” you shrugged, lounging comfortably but authoritatively in your armchair. Your gaze never leaving him.

“Blackbeard won’t pay. He’ll burn your ship down,” Izzy sounded tired, and he supposed he was. He’d gone through all of this before, everyone too stupid or too arrogant to listen to him.

You sighed heavily, assessing him before standing again. You walked purposely around the small table between you both. He found himself sitting straighter as you approached, squaring his shoulders, lifting his chin, folding his cuffed hands in his lap.

“For the last time, Hands, I’m not worried about that. Would you like to hear why?” The toes of your boots touched his with how close you were standing, your expression neutral and unrevealing as you watched him.

“Enlighten me,” Izzy intended to snap, to snarl, to push and prod you. Instead, his voice wavered embarrassingly.

“Firstly, Blackbeard does not scare me. I don’t underestimate him, I know he is a brilliant sailor and tactician, but so am I. The Queen Anne’s Revenge is a ship and a crew to be reckoned with but, once again, so is mine. May I remind you that Blackbeard is no longer aboard the Queen Anne, instead he is sailing on the Revenge with the Gentleman Pirate and his less than experienced crew. My crew wouldn’t act without doing their research first, ensuring we had the upper hand. Blackbeard is a force to be reckoned with but he is still just one man.”

Hands placed on the arms of Izzy’s chair, you lean over him. Your gaze hard and serious, tone steady but with a confusing underlying softness. This wasn’t a threat, it was an honest warning. You weren’t trying to scare him, you were just explaining yourself, sure and confident but not arrogant. Izzy remained still and silent under your stare.

“Their ship will be on the seabed before they can fire their first cannon,” you ensured, if that was the right word to use. Your fierce protectiveness of your crew and your ship was palpable.

You assessed the man beneath you, measuring his reaction. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that he seemed flustered. A warm pink flush creeping up his neck and over his ears.

“They will not touch my ship, they certainly won’t burn it down. You’re in safe hands, Izzy.”

Izzy squirmed under your intensity, a tiny broken sound escaping his throat when one of your hands landed on his knee. It was like your palm set his nerves on fire even through the leather of his pants. It was only then that he realised how uncomfortable those unforgiving leather pants had become.

“I won’t let anyone cause harm to my ship, just as I won’t let anyone lay hands on you.” The hand on his knee moved slowly but steadily, sliding up the inside of his thigh.

Izzy would curse himself for the way his hips shifted tellingly or the way his hands curled into fists, but he could barely put together a coherent thought. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, couldn’t look anywhere but at your eyes. Dark with emotions he couldn’t name. His own eyes were wide and bright, unknown to him, you would even call them pleading. He didn’t even know what he was pleading for.

His eyes screwed shut as he threw his head back against the headrest of the chair, knuckles turning white as a moan slipped past his lips. His hips jutted up in surprise and pleasure, pressing harder into your hand that was now cupping his crotch.

You gave a small squeeze, drawing a gasp from him before still your hand completely. His chest rose and fell with a steadying breath before his muscles relaxed and his eyes fluttered open again.

You removed your hand then, using the same one to run your fingers tenderly through his hair. You let a small smile slip as he relaxed further under your touch before gripping his chin between your thumb and forefinger, making sure he was looking at you and listening.

“Alright, Izzy. Listen up, now. Okay? This is the most important thing I’m going to say all evening,” your voice was softer now but with an edge that made him hang onto every word like it was gospel.

“You were brought onto this ship for ransom, nothing more untoward. This will only happen because it’s something we both want. Doing it or not, nothing changes. If you don’t want this, you simply go back to that space in the hold with your leftover dinner, books of your choosing, and some fresh water. Your treatment here will not change. Nobody will hurt you. I am not interested in people who are not interested in me. I am not interested in taking advantage in such a way, the only reason I’ve put hands on you in any way is that you appeared interested.”

Of course, you meant it. Your crew brought Izzy aboard your ship in the hopes that he will bring in a generous ransom. Of course, you admired Izzy’s reputation and thought he was plenty attractive, you wouldn’t deny that. However, even when you invited him for dinner, you had no goals other than conversation. You just couldn’t help yourself when you noticed the tightening of his pants, the obvious bulge of interest.

“But now I am asking and want an honest answer. Do you want this?” You watched him closely, holding him in place with a grip just light enough that he could easily pull away if he wanted.

Letting his mind race and jump to catch up, Izzy found himself staring at you. His response didn’t come quick and when most would have snapped or demanded an answer, you waited patiently, your expression giving nothing away.

“Yes.” Izzy felt his answer rise from his chest, heavy but as natural as breathing.

“Yes, what?” There was a hum of approval in your question.

“Yes…I want this,” Izzy answered again, sounding a little more cognizant.

“Then you’ll have it,” you smiled as you released his chin, dropping your hand back down to his crotch. “Change your mind at any time, just say it and we stop. Yes?”

Izzy nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as you lazily began to undo the laces of his pants.

“I must be very lucky, to just so happen to dock in the same port as Israel Hands,” you hummed as you pulled him out of his pants. “To have you aboard my ship, sitting so prettily in my cabin.”

You stroked, slow and languid. He might even call it lazy, except you didn’t seem like the type to do anything halfheartedly. Your touches were far from disinterested, they were just unhurried. Like you had all the time in the world and wanted to spend it doing this.

“There you go, just relax,” you brought your other hand up to his hair again, already able to see how he liked having it played with. “It’s just us, let it out,” as you watched his face, you could see him biting down on his bottom lip, silencing himself.

Thankfully, your encouragement, your order, had him releasing his lip and moaning softly into the space between you both. You just watched him like he was something precious, something worth cherishing, as you undid him with nothing more than your hand.

Izzy gasped as you stroked him through his high. Unable to resist his mouth, the hand in his hair came around the back of his head as you lent down and caught his lips with your own. He whined into the kiss and you took it as a signal to take your hand away, easing off as he became oversensitive.

As you pulled away from him, you nipped at his bottom lip. Izzy breathed heavily, watching you through hooded eyes as you pulled a handkerchief out of your pocket and wiped your hand clean.

“Absolutely stunning, Israel,” you praised, true fondness written in your features. Izzy hummed, pleased, and let the rest of your praise wash over him as you, oh so kindly, tucked him back into his pants and laced them back up loosely.

Taking in his blissed out expression, you felt a wave of fondness rush over you. You then dropped to where his hands sat in his lap. “Let’s get these cuffs off of you, they can’t be comfortable.”

He just nodded, instinctively lifting his hands for you to assess the cuffs. “Promise to behave?” He nodded again.

“Very good,” you rewarded him with a smile as you pulled a key out of another pocket. You unlocked the cuffs and removed them, placing them on the little table behind you. “I have no doubts you know how to behave, I have a feeling you can be just the sweetest little thing,” you held his wrists in your hands, stroking your thumbs over the insides of them. The cuffs hadn’t been tight enough to leave marks.

Izzy stared up at you, the sensitive skin of his wrists tingling. He found that he wanted to be, for you. He didn’t think he was sweet, didn’t think himself capable, but he could follow orders. And if he happened to enjoy it, who was here to judge him for it?

“I think you should thank your captain for their hospitality, don’t you?” There was enough authority in your voice for it to register as an order, but there was a look on your face that told him he could say no. Just like you had promised him earlier.

“Yes,” Izzy breathed.

“Yes?”

“Yes…yes, Captain.”

It should feel wrong, calling anyone but Edward his captain, he wouldn’t even call Bonnet by that title. Yet he was already finding it too easy to offer you that respect. It sent a thrill through him.

You have his wrists a gentle squeeze for dropping them and turning away from him. You returned to your own armchair, sitting back comfortably. When Izzy didn’t move, you spread your legs lazily and patted your thigh.

The order registered immediately and Izzy was on his feet, standing between your legs. You didn’t need to say anything, just raise an eyebrow, and Izzy sank to his knees.

You ran fingers through his hair as he rested his head against your thigh. “Just sit for a moment, darling.”

He shifted, eyebrows pinching slightly, like he was feeling antsy or unsure. “Do you feel good?” you asked, giving a tiny tug to his hair to make him settle. His eyes fluttered shut and a soft sigh passed his reddened lips at the slight burn. He nodded, pressing his face against your thigh. “Then just enjoy it for a moment, we have plenty of time,” you promised.

It was quiet as the two of you sat like that. Your hand in his hair, gently running your nails over his scalp.

As Izzy knelt between your legs, head cushioned against your thigh, enjoying the quiet attention you gave him, he felt his thoughts drifting away. He couldn’t feel the hard floor under his knees, only cushioned by a rug. He felt like he was floating, a mindset he had never managed to fall into, never managed to maintain.

Izzy didn’t know how much time passed but you never hurried him. You waited until he shifted, until he appeared to be getting agitated, until he blinked up at you.

“Want some more?” Izzy nodded, nuzzling into your palm when you caressed his cheek. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

“T’make you feel good too,” he slurred and you knew for a fact he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol all day.

“You really are so sweet,” you cooed, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He whined softly at the feeling.

You undid your pants, lifting your hips from the chair as you tugged the material down. As the waistband reached your lower thighs, Izzy tentatively reached up to assist you. “Good boy,” you approved, taking your own hands away and letting him pull your pants further down your legs.

Without prompting, Izzy shuffled closer, fitted between your legs like he belonged there. He kept his hands folded in his lap, looking up at you with hazy eyes, his pupils blown out like yours most likely were as well.

“So eager, sweetheart. Aren’t you just lovely?” you lounged back, bringing a hand down to pet his hair. He melted into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. “Such a lovely pet,” you couldn’t help but coo at him, loving how he responded.

Izzy nuzzled his face against the crook of your thigh, not touching without explicit permission. “Go on then, pet,” you permitted, letting your legs part a little more, as much as your pants would allow.

Izzy happily got to work, his lips and tongue hot and diligent. Izzy hummed to himself, unable to get close enough. He lost himself in the task, spurred on by your satisfied breaths and little moans.

You were speaking, your tone soft and fond, praising him. He couldn’t focus on the exact words but he must have taken them in subconsciously because he was still preening and moaning against you. The sounds he was making made you think that he was enjoying this even more than you were.

The whole time, you pet and tugged at his hair, responding to his reactions until you knew just what he liked. And your praise never stopped.

He looked up at you through his lashes, flushed and eager, and that’s all it took for you. “Fuck,” you gasped, followed by various utterances of his name.

Izzy didn’t pull his mouth away until you pulled him off by his hair. You knew you were damned when you saw his tongue darted out to lick his lips clean.

“So lovely, pet. You have some hidden skills, don’t you?”

Izzy watched as your chest rose and fell, feeling a sense of pride that he was able to please you. You were still playing with his hair and he lent into it some more, his hips rolling against his will.

Your laugh was warm, not mocking, when you noticed that he had gotten hard again. In all honesty, he was surprised, he wasn’t a young man anymore.

“Oh, would you look at that,” you said, like he had done something wonderful, something worthy of attention and praise, like he wasn’t just some desperate dog. “Lovely,” you hummed as you slipped boot between his legs.

“Spread your knees, pet. Take care of yourself while I catch my breath,” you offered, slipping your boot forward as Izzy obediently spread his legs.

Izzy had already come this far so he didn’t need any more prompting to begin rutting against your boot. It was pathetic, his search for pressure, his face pressed into the inside of your thigh and moaning to himself. You didn’t seem put off by his desperation, just lounging in your chair, stroking his hair and caressing his face.

Here he was, on his knees in the captain’s cabin. Not even Blackbeard, another captain. Moaning and tutting, pathetic and desperate. He was disgusting. He could hear the nonexistent laughter, could hear all the comments the people he knew would make.

Just as he felt the tears pricking in his eyes, you ran the pad of your thumb under his eye. “You’re beautiful, Izzy. Could let you do this all day. Perhaps a pillow under your knees next time, can’t be comfortable,” your voice anchored him back to where he was. Your cabin, having him serve you but focusing on his pleasure just as much. Speaking to him kindly and sweetly. Seemingly cherishing, dare he think loving, him.

“So good, pet. Absolutely perfect, Israel.”

It was like being shot, the orgasm that tore through it. It came out of nowhere, hurtling towards him and colliding like a cannonball. You cooed and shushed him, holding his face in your hands as his hips jutted against your leg without his control.

As the ringing in his ears stopped, he could process your words. “There we go, pet. You did so good, so pretty.”

Izzy whined without even realising it. Something within him was spiralling out of control, ruined by you. You offered the guiding hand that he always wanted from Blackbeard, and yet you gave him the attention and softness he always craved. He didn’t know those things could co-exist, could come from the same person. Yet, here you were.

Izzy sighed softly as you cradled his face in your hands, leaning down to press your forehead against his. “You’re remarkable.” Izzy could sob with how sincere you sounded, like you really meant it.

Once again, Izzy wasn’t sure how much time had passed, the two of you just sitting in the quiet of the cabin. It was…peaceful, that floaty feeling coming back to him.

He hadn’t realised he had closed his eyes until he was opening them again. “There you are, love. Welcome back,” you weren’t taunting him, you were smiling and welcoming him back to his consciousness.

“C’mon, pet. Let’s stand up.”

You took his hands in yours as you stood from your chair, helping to pull him up to his feet on shaky legs. You dropped his hands and pulled up your pants, not looking even a little ashamed about how exposed you had been. You laced up your pants before taking in the flustered first mate in front of you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you offered, “I’ll have your clothes cleaned as well. I’m sure I can find something for you to wear in the meantime.”

Izzy just nodded, unable to find any words, before following you through the cabin. You led him into your bathroom and began preparing a bath. Izzy just watched as you prepared the bathroom for him. He wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop now, not thinking anyone would commit this much to a fuckery. For some incomprehensible reason, you were genuine about all of this.

Once the bath was ready, you began to unbutton his waistcoat. “Is this alright? I’ll leave you to wash up on your, if you’d like, or I can stay and help,” you folded the waistcoat, placing it down with care, not making a move to do anything else before he gave his answer.

“Stay.” It was selfish, Izzy felt it was anyway. He wanted you to stay, to help him do something as simple but as intimate as bathing, to take care of him.

You smiled at his answer before moving back to him. You helped him undress the rest of the way, not letting him lift a finger, folding each soiled item and placing them down with care. You took his hand as he stepped into the bath, a soft groan escaping him as he sank down in the warm water.

With a washcloth, you tenderly cleaned his skin. Then you moved to the head of the tub, washing his hair. Izzy found his eyes closing again, enjoying the feeling, smiling a little to himself when you began to hum quietly behind him.

Once he was clean, you helped him out of the bath and used a fluffy towel to start drying him off. He could only watch you, moving as you quietly told him to, wondering what you got out of this. For a second he wondered if this was some sort of strange humiliation tactic but that thought was quickly dismissed, because you were smiling at him adoringly.

Even now, that floaty feeling lingered in Izzy’s brain and, as you gently dried his hands, he realised that he felt safe. A ridiculous thing to feel, especially here, but it was true. You made him feel safe in such a short amount of time.

“Oh, sweetie,” you frowned, placing the towel down and bringing your hands to his face. “Are you alright? Is it too much?” He realised you were brushing away a couple of stray tears.

Izzy shook his head, quickly rubbing his eyes and sniffling.

He wanted to sob when you stepped away from him. He had ruined it. Anything about him you had thought was attractive or desirable must have disappeared now, now that he was crying other tenderness.

Then he felt something soft drape over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you covered up,” you spoke gently, helping him into a soft robe.

“Is something wrong?” You were in front of him again, tying his robe closed around him.

Izzy just shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, you’ve done nothing wrong.” At least the tears had stopped now. “You’re alright. I just have to ask you two things, okay? But I’m going to need you to speak.” He nodded.

“Do you regret what happened?”

“...no…”

“Good, just one more question. Do you want to go back to your space in the hold or would you like to stay here, where I’ll take care of you?”

Izzy blinked before letting his muscles relax again. “Stay here,” he answered, just pleased to hear that was an option. He couldn’t bear going back to the hold right now. Even if it was comfortable and warm down there, he didn’t want to be alone.

“Come on then, love,” you took hold of his hand and guided him back out into your cabin.

Izzy let you manoeuvre him. You changed into something more comfortable before showing him to the bed. You had him crawl in beside the wall before joining him. You asked if you could hold him and he nodded, he couldn’t remember the last time somebody held him as he slept.

Tucked up in your bed, under your sheets, Izzy felt right and safe in your arms. Whatever was to happen would happen and he’d worry about it later. For now, he wanted to just focus on this.

#israel hands x reader #izzy hands x reader #ofmd izzy #izzy hands #ofmd x reader #ofmd #our flag means death

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buckysgrace · 8 months

Text

Forty Two

“Billy,” Rosemary shouted from down the hallway, stirring his movements as he stared at the third cup of water he’d had that morning, “You have a phone call.” He looked over curiously, unsure of who would be calling. He was sure that she would tell him if it was Tommy.

“Who is it?” He asked curiously as he rounded the corner, nervous that he was correct in his assumptions on who it may be. He knew it would only be a matter of time before Neil found out. It nearly sent him into a spiral, making him think of all the different things that Neil would do to hold it over his head.

“I think it’s your parole officer,” She mumbled as she handed the phone towards him, “They’re probably ready to set up the drug test.” He froze for a second, doing his best to remain calm as he hoped it was just a checkup.

“Hello?” He breathed out softly, already fearing the worst. His mouth felt dry suddenly, even after all the cups of water he’d just devoured. He had a feeling he’d drink a gallon by the time the phone call was over.

“William Hargrove?” A male voice rang through on the other side, stern and raspy as he spoke. Billy thought about knocking his head against the walls, knowing that this was just his luck. He knew he’d regret the lines he did, yet he still did it.

“Yeah.” Billy said gently, trying to act as relaxed as he could as he still felt Rosemary watching him. He didn’t need her hovering over him or for her to realize what he’d done. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to be alone again if she knew.

“We need you here at twelve, you have the address?” The guy on the other line questioned him, sounding a little irritated. Billy chewed on his bottom lip, glancing towards where the address was strung up on a note on the fridge. He wondered if Rosemary would try and go too.

“Yeah I do,” Billy responded as he pushed his hair back, “I’ll be there soon.” He said quickly, wondering if the guy knew how close to noon it already was. He didn’t think it was that far away, but decided he should leave a little earlier just to be safe.

He put the phone down slowly, shutting his eyes tightly as he kept his fingers over the cool material. He breathed in deeply, counting to ten as he tried to keep the emotions in his chest from bubbling over.

“Everything alright?” Rosemary asked softly as she took a step forward, looking at him curiously as she knitted her dark eyebrows together. He paused, licking his bottom lip as he debated if he should just tell her the truth. He was fucked. So fucked.

“Yeah, it’s good. I just gotta be down there soon.” He said, giving his shoulders a weak shrug to pretend like he didn’t care. He chewed on his inner cheek, hoping that Susan hadn’t realized what had gone missing. He was certain she didn’t know, but still couldn’t help but be suspicious that someone had tipped them off.

“It’ll be fine,” She said softly, “You’ve been clean so there’s nothing to worry about.” He nodded his head in agreement, wishing that was true. He had royally fucked up, that much he knew.

He made up an excuse of needing to finish getting ready as he headed down the hallway, feeling a rock sinking inside of his stomach. He knew there was a way around this, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. He was desperate though. He couldn’t disappoint everyone again.

“I need your help with something.” He said quickly as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him urgently. He peered in the room curiously, meeting blue eyes as a comic book was shuffled down.

“What is it?” Russell asked a little too eagerly, looking excited as he sat forward. Billy felt slightly guilty suddenly, knowing how terrible this was all going to sound. It was terrible, but he didn’t know what else to do at the moment. He knew it would be better to be an adult and face his own consequences, but he didn’t want to make Kim upset again. He just needed Russell’s assistance.

“Look,” Billy paused, unsure of how he was going to frame this, “I need you to piss in this.” He said a little sternly as he held a ziploc bag out towards him.

“What?” Russell asked as his features melted into horror, “Why?” He asked incredulously, his nose wrinkling up as he quickly shook his head. Billy exhaled deeply through his nose, feeling like he should’ve known it would’ve been more difficult.

“I need it.” He said simply, hoping that Russell wouldn’t ask him too many questions. He didn’t want to have to explain everything, to show how pathetic he was. It was embarrassing.

“Why would you need my pee?” Russell asked, looking almost offended as Billy stepped forward to shush him. Billy glanced over his shoulder, ensuring no one else had heard before he decided that Russell would need to know the truth anyways.

“Look,” Billy said as he bent to Russell’s level, “Mom told you about what happened, right?” Billy watched as Russell nodded his head slowly, “I took a lot of drugs on Halloween and I know it’s not out of my system yet. When they test me and it comes back positive, they’ll lock me back up. You don’t want that, do you?” He felt guilty for throwing the worst scenario out to Russell, but he didn’t know what else to do. He knew Russell wouldn’t question him about the drug use this way.

“No,” Russell said quickly, “I don’t want that.” He said quickly, his blue eyes softening in worry as he sat at the edge of the bed. Billy crept back just a bit, trying not to be consumed with guilt. He hated taking advantage of him, but it was too late to stop now.

“Then I need you to help me,” Billy said desperately, “Please. For me.” He replied a little softer, tilting his head as he waited for Russell’s response. He looked a little defeated as he stared at the bag, like he was still trying to decide if it was worth it or not. Billy didn’t blame him.

“I just-,” Russell paused, “I pee in this bag?” He questioned a second later as he took it from Billy, looking a little disgusted at the whole ordeal. Billy paused, in agreement that it really was gross.

“Yeah,” Billy nodded his head eagerly, “Just zip it up and I’ll take it from there.” He replied softly, hoping that Russell could get through this without blabbing to anyone else. Russell nodded for a second, looking a little distant before he got up and left.

Billy paced the entire time he was gone, trying to convince himself that he was just paranoid from the come off of the drugs. He believed that Russell wouldn’t rat him out, but he couldn’t help but think that this was taking longer than usual.

“You know this is really weird, right?” Russell asked seriously as he walked back into the room, carrying the bag of urine in one hand. Billy relaxed instantly, feeling a sense of relief spread through him.

“Can you just-,” Billy sighed deeply, “I know. It won’t happen again, I swear.” He promised him, knowing that he wouldn’t ask Russell again. It was too risky and he didn’t want to end up hurting Russell in the end. Russell nodded his head softly as he passed the bag to him, before he turned and left again.

It took him a few minutes to figure out how to tape it onto himself in the right manner, and then it took even longer to find a pair of pants that he was sure wouldn’t cause the baggy to explode all over him. He’d prefer to get through this without wearing Russell’s piss. He supposed Kim was right, his pants were slightly too tight. He wore a wife beater instead of a shirt, figuring he’d just pop on a large jacket to hide himself away a little better.

He felt awkward walking out, sure that everyone would notice what was happening. At the moment he really wanted a drink, or perhaps another line. That would make him feel more confident, like he was undefeatable.

“Are you going?” Rosemary looked towards him, a worried expression on her features as she walked towards him. He nodded his head, doing his best to remain stoic. He didn’t need anyone else to know just how badly he was freaking out on the inside.

“What- Oh my God!” Susan proclaimed, nearly sending Billy stumbling onto his feet as she rushed forward at him. His veins turned to ice, sure that he had been caught as she roughly turned him around, “Oh my God!” She cried out, looking horrified as she tilted his shirt backwards. He froze for a moment, unsure of what she was freaking out about until he remembered what was decorating his skin.

“Pin up girl,” He smiled stiffly, trying to ease the tension, “S’nice right?” He tried, but he knew it was no use. Alma was good. Really good. His pin up girl looked just like Susan’s daughter. Their relationship had been exposed, so there wasn’t really any use in hiding it anymore. He cursed himself for being so stupid for leaving his tattoo so easily exposed.

“Sam! Oh my God,” She repeated with her eyebrows furrowed together, “You let this happen?” She looked towards Sam in disbelief, her lips parted in horror as she looked back onto the tattoo again. She made Billy jump by rubbing it, as if to confirm that it was real.

“He’s eighteen.” Sam pointed out, putting the newspaper down for just a second to peer at it. Billy smiled sheepishly, suddenly a little concerned with how hard Sam could hit. He wondered if this would be a breaking point for him. He quickly erased the thought, watching as Sam returned back to reading.

“Look at it!” Susan replied shrilly, shaking her head as she looked at Billy in stunned terror. He paused, unsure of how to answer as he shrugged his shoulders. Rosemary joined a second later, looking like she was seconds away from bursting into a fit of laughter, “You think this is funny?” She snapped quickly. “No,” Rosemary admitted but was covering her mouth to hide her smile anyways, “I am just surprised is all.” She mumbled, trying to muffle her laugh as she walked away. Wayne was silent as he looked at Billy’s tattoo next, giving his shoulders a slight shrug before moving on.

“Why would you think this is okay?” Susan looked up at Billy, her blue eyes wide as she searched his face to try and find an answer from him. He furrowed his eyebrows together, not sure if she’d like to know just how sporadic his decision had been.

“Everyone keeps talking about us not working out,” Billy said quickly, a little irritated, “I figured this way I’ll have something to remember her bye.” He replied casually, pulling away so no one else could pick and stare at his skin. He walked around the corner, grabbing one of his large jackets to cover up with.

“You don’t have an issue with him tattooing our daughter on his body, looking like that ?” Susan stopped in front of Sam, her hands on her waist as she waited for him to answer. Sam sighed deeply before he brought his eyes up towards her.

“Susan, that seems like a pretty common pin up pose,” Sam mused softly, “Kim isn’t the only redhead. For all we know it could be based on you.” He suggested slyly as he folded the newspaper in half. Wayne snorted before he turned back to his own paper.

“Samuel!” Susan protested, looking furious as her face lit up into red flames. Billy thought it was fair, knowing that Kim really did resemble her mother.

“Or it’s just a coincidence,” Sam shrugged his shoulders, “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s a little tattoo.” He waved his hand, brushing her off as he waited for her to protest again. Susan exhaled loudly, looking around like she might find someone to help her.

“That’s your problem, you don’t get onto them.” She said at last, still sounding a little shrill as she held her hands on his waist. Sam cocked an eyebrow as he stood up.

“What was I supposed to say? He didn’t ask me,” Sam shook his head, “That’s his and Kim’s business.” He responded, moving across the kitchen to quietly rinse out his mug and set it inside the sink. Susan walked with him, but kept a large gap between her and Rosemary as she moved.

“They’re kids!” Susan protested, holding her hands out in disbelief as she glanced back towards Billy. He wrinkled his nose up in dismay, not agreeing with her comment. They were young, but they weren’t children anymore. They could make their own decisions.

“They’re both eighteen,” Sam pointed out, “Young and if he wants to get a tattoo of her that’s none of my business. It’s his and Kim’s.” Sam said at last, looking like he no longer wanted to discuss it. Billy wondered if Sam had grown to hate Susan more.

“You are so frustrating.” Susan huffed as she shook her head. She pinched the bridge of her nose tightly, like she could somehow ease everything away with her touch. Billy chewed on his bottom lip, then shook his head. He supposed he could sneak out, but he was curious if this would turn into another fist fight.

“Billy,” Sam turned towards him dryly, “The next time you want to get a tattoo of Kim please save us all the trouble and for the love of God ask Susan for her permission. Jesus.” He spoke directly towards him before he stomped outside. Susan exhaled loudly, shaking her head as she bonded down the hallway. Wayne neatly folded up his book before he followed behind her.

“What crawled up his ass?” Billy asked seriously as he glanced out towards where Sam was now sitting in front of his garden. He raised an eyebrow, sure that he hadn’t snapped like that in a while.

“You know, he told me that Susan didn’t like him but he didn’t say it was this bad,” Rosemary admitted with a soft laugh, “I don’t think I’ve seen him cranky like this before.” She replied softly as she shook her head, looking like she felt bad for him.

“He must want to drink.” Billy replied softly, glancing towards Rosemary to confirm his suspicions. He supposed that Sam was doing a good job at the moment, but wondered if it would actually last. From what Kim had mentioned, he never stayed sober for very long.

“He’s been doing other things to keep himself busy.” She mentioned offhandedly as she filled the sink with warm water, in order to rinse the dishes. He felt his nose curling up in disgust.

“Gross.” He said quickly, trying to shake the image that filled his mind from her birthday. He didn’t want to deal with that thought either. She snorted as she turned to face him.

“I’m talking about his garden, silly boy,” Rosemary shook her head, rolling her eyes softly as she smiled, “How’s Kim doing?” She asked him softly, tilting her head like she was searching for information. He thought if she was that curious, she could ask Kim herself.

“Not too hot.” He admitted a second later, feeling like there was no point in hiding it. He wasn’t sure if Kim was doing as bad as what he was though. She hadn’t stolen Susan’s coke and smoked it. Billy suddenly wondered if Susan would blame it on Sam.

“Is she drinking?” Rosemary turned away again as she asked the question, surprising Billy. He chewed on his bottom lip, knowing that Kim hadn’t been too sly about it. Still, the way that Rosemary asked him left him curious. He wondered if it had been worse than what he thought.

“Nothing wrong with a drink now and then.” He admitted as he shrugged his shoulders, not wanting it to become a big deal. Kim wasn’t like Susan or Sam. Having a drink now and then didn’t make her an addict.

“She’s been doing that a lot more though, hasn’t she?” Rosemary questioned him, like she wanted to know if he had noticed it. He paused as he thought about his answer, still holding onto his own truth.

“You’re just paranoid because of Sam.” He told her at last, glancing at the clock to confirm that he should be getting ready to leave. Rosemary followed his gaze, then turned back towards him.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with her?” She asked him again, beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t asking in a way that made him think she was concerned, she was asking to see if he had noticed. He shook his head. Kim was fine.

“No,” Billy answered softly, “There’s nothing wrong with drinking every once in a while.” He repeated again, trying to hold the truth but she was beginning to make him doubt things. He exhaled a little deeper, feeling worried suddenly.

“Hm,” Rosemary said softly, “Like there’s nothing wrong with doing drugs every once in a while?” She asked him, taking him by surprise. He parted his lips, but felt like his situation was completely different than Kim’s. Neither of them were really doing anything bad.

“You’re her stepmom,” Billy grumbled, “You talk to her about it.” He told her seriously, mumbling underneath his breath as he adjusted his jacket. He didn’t want to hear about it anymore. Everything was fine. Rosemary was just making a big deal out of nothing, like she was trying to say they weren’t good for one another.

“You just said there wasn’t an issue.” Rosemary pointed out, her dark eyebrows raised as she waited for Billy to answer again. He knitted his eyebrows together, feeling like he was being tested.

“There’s not.” He said simply, hoping to get Rosemary off of both of their backs. But suddenly he felt as if he knew, even if it was deep down, that he had been missing something. Kim had slowly been acting differently, dressing differently. He was worried.

“I hope not,” Rosemary told him truthfully, “Because you’re both too young to be going down that path.” She said softly, looking worried as she watched him. He leaned against the counter, suddenly having an urge to come clean about everything. He stopped himself.

“I’m guessing this means you won’t approve of us sharing a room then.” He teased her instead, feeling his lips crinkle into a smile at the way her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head. She turned away from him as he spoke.

“Absolutely not,” Rosemary huffed out quickly, “It’s not happening.” She told him, sounding fully serious as he laughed. He paused, giving her shoulder a soft squeeze before he headed out the door. He needed to get this over with.

“Where are you going?” Billy looked at Russell in confusion as he walked towards his car. Russell was in the passenger seat, wearing a frumpy looking sweater as he held a triumphant smile on his lips.

“With you.” He said proudly, his cheeks a little rosy from the cool air that was whipping around. Billy stalled, taken aback by his answer. He didn’t think it would be a good idea at all. Not when he was so on edge at the moment.

“No you’re not.” Billy responded once he snapped out of his stupor. He reached for the car, trying to push it open when Russell quickly locked it again. He furrowed his dark eyebrows together, looking at him in anger.

“Yes I am,” Russell sassed back, “I wanna see what you have to do. And you’re getting me ice cream after.” He proclaimed a second later, looking happy with his own answer as he settled back into his seat.

“When was that a part of the deal?” Billy asked him seriously, although he figured that he owed Russell a lot more than just ice cream. He would be in a mess if Russell hadn’t agreed to do it.

“When I realized I wouldn’t get anything out of it.” Russell challenged as he crossed his arms over his chest, giving his chin a determined nod. Billy sighed deeply as he closed his eyes, figuring that he didn’t have that much time to argue with him. He crossed the car, shaking his head and grumbling as he crawled into the driver’s seat.

“Fine,” Billy huffed, “But keep your trap shut.” He told him seriously, but didn’t feel like he was doing a very good job at threatening him when he was wearing a baggy of Russell’s urine on his leg.

The drive wasn’t that long and Billy silenced any more of Russell’s questions and his own nerves by turning the music up as loud as possible. He thought by the end of his trip he’d need another package of cigarettes just to get them back home.

“Don’t be a little shit,” Billy warned once they got out of the car, worried that he’d end up blowing Billy’s entire cover, “Or no ice cream.” He threatened, hoping that Russell would at least listen to that. Russell looked up at him, nodding his head quickly in agreement.

He tailed behind Billy, truly moving like his shadow as he gripped his fingers along Billy’s bicep. He huffed underneath his breath but supposed that was better than Russell running off. It took a few minutes at the front desk to get set up, working on making sure he was correctly checked in.

“Hi,” Russell introduced with a bright smile, his eyes twinkling, “Did you have a good holiday?” He asked the front desk lady, bearing a mischievous look in his eyes.

“I did, how about you?” She asked him kindly, though she looked a bit unsure about him being here. Billy mumbled underneath his breath as he finished signing the last page, already in the mood to get out of here.

“Not bad, I just have some crazy relatives I guess,” Russell started as he tapped his fingers repeatedly against the counter, “And I found out that my brother and sister are dating.” He blurted out, grinning like he’d been holding that one in the barrel for as long as possible.

“Oh,” The check in lady paused, her eyes wide as she stared at Billy, “You can take a seat. They’ll call you back soon.” She nodded her head urgently, looking like she already knew who Russell was talking about.

“What the hell?” He asked him harshly, his eyes blazing as he looked down at Russell’s shorter frame. He mocked innocence, holding his hands up like he didn’t know what he had just said.

“What?” Russell looked at him confused as they sat down. Billy shifted a little bit further in his seat, sure that the worker was still staring over at him in disbelief. He rubbed at his forehead, feeling like he was gaining a headache.

“Why the fuck would you say that?” He asked him seriously once he opened his eyes again. Russell furrowed his eyebrows again, holding his knees up to his chest like he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“She asked how my holidays were,” Russell defended, “That’s the biggest thing that happened.” He said seriously, looking like he didn’t know what was wrong about what he said. Billy sighed again as he shoved at Russell’s shoulder, almost knocking him off the seat.

“You can’t just tell people that.” He said quickly, shaking his head in disbelief. Russell parted his lips, then shut his mouth again. He held his hands up, smiling cheekily.

“Why?” He asked him seriously, looking like he really wanted to know why. Billy shook his head, sure that he was just dragging the conversation out to irritate him.

“People think it’s weird,” Billy said quickly, “It’s a secret.” He reminded him, keeping eye contact with him for a long moment until Russell slowly nodded his head in agreement. There really wasn’t a point in hiding anything anymore, he just didn’t want Russell making it sound like they were related.

“Oh.” Russell said, looking like he could agree with that. He shrugged his shoulders again a second later, looking like it wasn’t that big of a deal. Billy wondered if Sam had rubbed his same carelessness off on him.

“Who else did you tell?” He asked seriously, fully expecting that Russell had already blabbered to his weird little friends that he had. Russell turns towards him, a sheepish smile on his lips to confirm his suspicions. Billy thought that he should be angry, but he couldn’t find it in himself. He owed Russell a lot and didn’t like the idea of him exposing the truth as Billy waited to get called back.

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

“What are you doing?” Kim watched him as he walked down the hall. He turned away from her, shoving the cleaning supplies back into the little closet in the hallway. He’d had a desire to do something when he’d returned to the house, probably to ease off the tension of what had happened. Everything seemed to go well.

“I just finished cleaning the bathroom,” He replied, looking at her strict expression in surprise, “Something wrong?” He asked her curiously, tilting his head as some of his loose curls fell across his forehead. He blew air up, trying to get it out of his eyes.

She paused for a moment, stepping back before she held her door open for him. He exhaled deeply before he stepped inside of her room, figuring that it must not be a happy thought if she wanted him alone. Susan had taken Wayne to the beach, wanting to show the ocean off to him for the first time. Addi had agreed, roping Eddie up as well. Max tagged along, but he had a feeling it was more out of bitterness to get away from Kim.

“Did you get high?” Kim asked him seriously, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared at him. He parted his lips, then shut them again. He thought it would be just as easy to lie to her, but suddenly he changed his mind.

“Yes.” He replied honestly, giving his shoulders a little shrug as he waited for her to freak out. He didn’t want to keep any more secrets from her. He’d be honest, even if she didn’t agree with what he did.

“Billy,” She looked at him stunned, like she was hoping that he wouldn’t have said yes. She dropped her hands from her chest, shaking her head softly, “Why?” She asked him softly, moving with him as he sat down on the bed. He held his fingers over his knees, unsure if she’d be happy about Susan doing coke.

“Just sort of sieved the opportunity.” He replied instead, beginning to laugh at how desperate it seemed as he thought it over. It really wasn’t like that. He just-, he’d just needed something to get the edge off.

“This goes against your parole,” She whispered harshly as she reminded him of what he already knew, “Do you want to be in jail again?” She asked him honestly, keeping her eyes on his face as he stared down at the floor. He didn’t like the disappointed tone that she used, but he knew he’d be the same way if she was in his shoes. At least she wasn’t screaming at him like Neil did.

“It wasn’t that bad.” He glanced towards her, breathing out slowly as he watched the way her features curled up into worry and fear. He felt bad, not wanting her to feel in such a way for him. She gripped his hands tightly, like she was worried he might be taken away from her.

“Are you serious?” She asked as her features turned into disbelief, “You had your test today, what are they going to do?” She looked at him fearful, shaking her head as she began to look around the room. He paused to watch her, sure that she was conjuring up some grand plan to keep him out of jail. He wondered if she had spoken to Rosemary, because he had avoided telling her for a reason. He didn’t want her to worry. “I already figured that out.” He said simply, hoping that she wouldn’t ask too many questions about it. He didn’t want to look terrible in her eyes, although he was sure that it was already too late for that.

“What?” Kim looked at him bewildered, still gripping onto his hands like a lifeline as she watched him closely. He breathed out deeply, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought his options over for a moment. He was already fucked, might as well come clean about everything while he was here.

“I-,” He paused for a moment, “Russell helped me.” He said at last, watching the way her eyebrows knitted in confusion and then raised high in realization. Her pink lips parted in a silent gasp, shaking her head like she wouldn’t believe it.

“How did he help you?” She asked him softly, “Oh, Billy. Tell me you didn’t.” She stated softly, like she was urging him to say no. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, figuring that it wasn’t worth lying about now. He wondered if she’d even trust him again after this.

“It won’t happen again.” He said simply, pulling his hands away to rub them against his knees. He felt a little sick suddenly, hoping that she’d still be able to look him in the eye after this. He glanced at her again, wondering why she’d thought he was high in the first place. It must’ve been fairly noticeable for her to be so direct about it.

“You should’ve asked me, Russell is too young.” She said at last, a certain sorrowful look stuck in her eyes as she leaned forward to push his hair from his forehead again. He felt exposed suddenly, but he didn’t mind it. He missed being in her presence like this; liked feeling like he could be open with her.

“I would’ve,” He admitted, “But it doesn’t work like that.” He teased her softly, his lips curling into a smile when hers did. She sighed softly, her breath smelling like mint as she brushed her thumb across his skin. She nuzzled in a little closer, squeezing her skinny frame up against him.

“Is Russell okay?” She asked softly as she rested her cheek against his shoulder, her fingertips lightly digging into his skin as she held onto him. He pulled her closer, feeling better that there wasn’t much hidden between them anymore. He’d come clean about Susan once she was gone. He had a feeling that Kim was too on edge to handle that right now. Despite everything Susan had done, he did feel bad for her. Sam really had fucked up her life and Neil hadn’t been any better. She did deserve a break.

“He’s a big boy.” He said at last, closing his eyes as he listened to the soft way she breathed. He was sure that if he was quiet enough, he could compare the way their hearts were beating.

“Billy,” Kim sighed softly, “You know that’s not what I mean.” She mumbled softly as she brought her fingertips against the hem of his shirt, rolling it up softly as she began to play with it. He knew exactly what she meant, but he didn’t really know the answer. He thought that Russell was fine.

“Yeah, I bought the little shit ice cream and he kept telling everyone that his brother and sister are dating,” He explained quickly, wanting to avoid the topic, “I think he’s fine.” He said at last, chuckling a little bit at how her body stiffened against him.

“Oh.” She breathed out a little rougher as she relaxed against him again. She groaned as she buried her face deeper into his shoulder, sounding frustrated at how that kept getting brought up. He chuckled, wondering if Susan was trying to convince her to end this the same way Rosemary was trying to convince him.

“My mom said you’ve been drinking a lot.” He responded slowly, drawing a fingertip across his jeans. He glanced over, watching the way her lips parted in surprise. A dark flush settled over her cheeks as she turned her gaze down to her lap, looking away in shame. He felt his heart hammering softly in his chest, suddenly growing worried. She’d told him, but he had brushed it off. In a way, he still was.

“Oh,” Kim said softly as she played with her hair, “I mean not really. Just, you know.” She replied, looking a little defeated as she began to play with a piece of string she found littering her bed. He watched her for a moment, wishing he had some sort of advice to help her. He didn’t think he was the best one to offer suggestions. He didn’t have an issue with any of it, he just did it when he wanted to.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” He said softly as he pulled her close, “I mean, I can still drink you under a table.” He chuckled softly, brushing his cheek against hers in hopes to draw a laugh from her. She stayed silent, but let him tug her closer.

“Have you been drinking?” She asked him quietly as she stared down at the floorboards. He felt guilty suddenly, worried that he had approached a sore subject. He didn’t want her to think she was doing something bad.

“Not recently,” He grumbled as he thought about it, thinking that a beer sounded really good about now, “I’m jealous of you.” He admitted, but then stiffened once the words left his mouth. He wasn’t sure if that was the best thing to say. He supposed he’d just have to watch her a little closer; just to see how bad it really was.

“I’m scared I’ll rely on it.” She admitted sadly, sounding defeated as she continued to stare at the floor. He thought about mentioning that any dust bunnies that she may be trying to count were still dead. He had done a good job scrubbing all the rooms down.

“I don’t think you’re doing anything bad.” He told her truthfully, wanting it to be the truth. He didn’t want her to suffer; to go through the same things her parents had. He didn’t think it was bad to have a drink once in a while, especially when she struggled with sleeping and when she got nervous. She seemed to do it in moderation anyways.

“Do you rely on drugs?” She turned towards him at last, “You know, to make you happy? To make you forget?” She asked him quickly, her eyes blazing with a hundred different questions as she watched him. He chuckled softly as he brushed his thumb across her cheek.

“It’s not like that.” He said gently, trying to nudge her questions in a different direction. It was a lie. He liked drinking and he liked the drugs because it did make him forget. He didn’t need her to know that, to get any ideas.

“What is it like then?” She asked him softly, looking like she genuinely wanted to know. He suddenly felt a little irritated, tired of how everyone seemed to think he had some sort of issue.

“Don’t worry about it,” He snapped, a little harsher than what he meant to say, “It’s fine.” He said a second later, a little softer so she wouldn’t think that he was mad at her. She sat back a bit, her hazel eyes turning a golden hue as the sun danced against them.

“It’s not fine,” She said at last, “You’re still doing drugs even though you could end up back in jail. You’re acting like it’s not a big deal.” She took him by surprise, speaking a little sterner as she held her shoulders out straighter. He blinked before he found his words again.

“It’s not .” He told her seriously, knowing that this would be the last time he tried anything for a while. He’d just done too much at once. He wouldn’t do it like this again and he certainly wouldn’t take anything while he finished the rest of his sentence.

“Then why do you do them?” She asked him, “Because what sort of fun would you be having on drugs at a time like this?” She looked at him curiously, her question knocking the air from his lungs. He felt exposed this time, because he knew that she was right.

“I’m not a junkie.” He defended himself lightly, his voice slightly shaking from his own words. He believed them to be true, even if she didn’t. She tilted her head softly, gently shaking it like he’d gotten it all wrong.

“I didn’t say that,” She replied softly, “But I think you’re relying on them more than what you realize.” She admitted, speaking gently to keep his anger from growing. He stared at her, feeling that she was partially right.

He let her words bounce around in his mind for a moment before he leaned forward, searching for his own distraction. He pressed his lips against hers slowly, stealing the air from her lungs as he gently peppered her mouth in kisses.

She hesitated for just a second, before she finally relented and dragged her lips against his in the same manner. He didn’t realize how badly he’d craved the touch and feel of her, even though it hadn’t been that long since he’d had her.

He gently pushed her onto her back, crawling over her as he licked and prodded against her plump lips. He enjoyed the sweet taste of her moans as he slid his tongue into her open mouth, licking away her melodious sounds as he pleased.

Her cheeks were flushed as he pulled away, her eyes hazy as she stared up at him. Her lips were still parted in awe, the hem of her shirt rising over her pale freckled skin as he parted her bottom lip with his thumb.

He leaned over, spitting slowly as he held eye contact with her the whole time. She flushed, her hips pressing up against his thigh as she slowly rolled his saliva around her tongue and then swallowed it slowly. Amusement crept onto her lips as she held her tongue out, making a show to prove that it was gone.

“You’re so -,” He paused for a second, feeling a smirk forming on his lips as he thought about how defensive she grew when he called her bad, “Naughty.” He said a second later as he traced his fingertips across her exposed skin. He sat back for a moment, just enough to begin to tug her clothing off of her body.

He admired her gentle curves, taking his time to drink in the image of her. She seemed to be growing more into her body, maturing nicely as the seasons changed. He pressed his thumbs against her pink nipples slowly, enjoying the feeling of her hardening buds against his skin.

“You’re so pretty,” He told her softly as he dragged his eyes up to her blushing cheeks, sure that she needed to hear it. She truly was the prettiest girl he’d ever been with. He hoped that she knew that, “Wanna see you ride me.” He mumbled against her lips, grinning at the way she giggled against him.

“Sit back, cowboy,” She teased him, pressing lightly on his chest until he rolled over onto his back. He grinned, watching the way she slowly unbuckled his belt and began to shimmy him out of his jeans. He sat up, just enough for her to tug them all the way off. She moved to his shirt next, quickly pulling it off before she settled over his lap. He looked at her eagerly, but stalled at the rough way she gripped his chin, “No more drugs.” She told him gently, though her expression was stern.

Something about the way she spoke made his cock ache, twitching for more of this manner from her. He felt like his eyes were a size too wide, nearly in disbelief at the way she was commanding it from him. He nodded his head, feeling like he was unable to form words as he agreed with her. He’d do whatever she said if she treated him like this.

“Billy.” She replied again, in the same manner as she lightly pinched at his chin. It didn’t hurt, not one bit. But in the back of his mind he wished that it would. His thoughts raced as his cock began to throb, thinking about how pretty she’d look if she was just a little rougher with him. He craved it, craved her more than any drug on the market.

“Yes,” He answered quickly as he flicked his tongue across his bottom lip, trying to gain some sense of his confidence back, “No more.” He agreed quickly, his tongue feeling heavy as he spoke. He’d worry about the rest of it later. He just wanted to focus on her right now, to feel her.

She pushed her hair from her face, leaving him in a dreamy haze as he moved one hand to drag his fingers through the small amount of hair that remained over her skin. He missed it desperately, hated whoever had convinced her it was a good thing to shave. She’d kept up with it since then, leaving him feeling like he was mourning a lost friend.

His hands fell to her hips, digging his fingers deep into her flesh as she slowly pushed his cock inside of her wet cunt. She sighed quietly, shutting her eyes as her cunt slowly swallowed his thick cock. He groaned at the sensation, enjoying the way her wet walls stretched around him.

“You’re such a good little sister,” He praised her softly, slowly rutting his hips up to press his dick further against her spongy walls, “Mhm, fit around my cock so well. S’nice?” He groaned out softly, enjoying the lust that flashed through her eyes.

“Yeah,” She said breathlessly as she knitted their fingers together. She gaped softly, looking down at him with doe eyes as she slowly began to rock her hips up and down the length of his cock. He exhaled roughly, enjoying the way her cunt leaked around him, “You feel so good, big brother.” She whispered hotly as she squeezed their hands together and began to rock herself along his cock.

He rested his head back against her pillows, watching the languid way she was moving against his cock. He felt like he was frozen in bliss, liquid pleasure shooting up his spine at the way her cunt squeezed around him. His eyes fell to the way their bodies connected, knowing that their connection was much more than physical.

He met her movements, thrusting his hips up with her movements to press himself deeper inside of her. He moved deep enough to feel his balls pressing against her warm skin, to feel her clit brushing against his skin as she moved. His eyes slowly trailed up her body, savoring the way her boobs moved in the same rhythm she did.

He drank in her features, savoring the way her eyebrows were knitted tightly together in pleasure. Her face had grown pink, mingling in with the color of her freckles as her pouty lips pouted out in awe. Sweet moans left her lips, rolling off of her tongue in his favorite harmony.

“Billy,” She whined his name softly, sending shivers up his spine as she pressed her hips down harder against his cock. He groaned, looking up at her in bliss as her pussy squeezed around his dick. He squeezed at her hips roughly, urging her down harder on his cock as he rolled his hips up, “Oh God.” She whined, her fingers digging roughly into his biceps as he pressed his tip roughly against the spot inside of her that left her whimpering.

She squeaked roughly, but he was too spurred on by the way her lips were parted to respond. He gripped the back of her neck, pulling her down roughly to clash his mouth against hers. She whimpered against his lips, sliding her tongue messily against his as he boobs pressed against his chest.

He groaned at the sensation of her sweaty skin against his own, enjoying the way their bodies connected as he messily ground his cock further into her wet cunt. He flicked his tongue against her own before he licked at the drool that was slipping from the corner of her lips, savoring the taste of her against his mouth.

Her moans vibrated against his skin as she drooled into her mouth, which he greedily licked it away. He could tell by the way her pussy was clamping down around him, how she was whining and digging her fingertips into his skin that she was almost close.

“Oh, oh,” She cried out, her eyes shut tightly as her mouth fell open in awe. He groaned, roughly fucking into her as he felt his own high approaching, “Jesus, Billy!” She shouted, rolling her hips along the curve of his cock as she came around him.

He huffed, feeling beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he grinded his cock into her velvety walls. She whined even louder, moaning as she lazily moved her hips back. He nearly found himself crying out, staring at her in disbelief as she slid his hard cock from her walls.

She pumped his cock roughly in her hand, twisting her slick roughly against his throbbing dick. He jerked his hips up roughly with her hand, feeling hundreds of curses forming on his mind. He groaned as she brought his tip along her lips, smearing her slick along her lips.

She held her tongue out, tapping his tip against her lips as he threw his head back and came with a large groan. His chest heaved, feeling like he was out of breath as he painted her mouth and lips white.

He slowly opened his eyes again, breathing in the image of her licking his spunk away from his cock. He played with her hair softly, resting against the mattress as she slowly licked her slick away from his cock.

“Fuck,” He breathed out, his chest feeling heavy suddenly as he watched her. She looked up at him in amusement, grinning as she continued to flick her tongue across his wet cock. He shivered at the sensation, enjoying how it felt against his cock, “You’re a little slut, you know that?”

“Yeah,” She giggled as she licked his slit clean, “Just for you big brother.” She teased as she slowly pulled away, rolling onto her back as she sighed deeply. He followed her, wiggling his body over hers to connect their lips again.

He tasted himself on her tongue, enjoying the way their tongue moved against one another’s. He brought his hands up on her sides, squeezing her soft flesh as she sighed against his mouth. He held onto her tightly, almost fearing that he would lose her.

“Mhm,” She mumbled against his mouth, gently placing her fingers through his hair as she pulled away, “I meant what I said.” She replied a second later, looking at him seriously as he watched her. He drew his eyes to her swollen lips, his heart throbbing inside of his chest.

“I know.” He told her, wishing he could promise that he meant his words too. He would eventually. He just needed to get over this bump, this odd change that had filled him. She believed in him and that’s all that he needed.

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

They retreated some time later to the living room, lounging on the floor as he tried to teach her how to play poker. He liked watching her try and concentrate, her eyebrows knitting together tightly and her tongue slightly poking out against her lips. She was too easy to read. He could clearly tell when she was lying about if her cards were good or not, as a nervous laugh bursted free from her smiley lips.

Eddie and Addi returned first. Eddie looked a little red from being out in the sun too long. He wore a scrunchy, which Billy was almost positive was the blue one Kim had gifted him on the fourth. He grumbled underneath his breath, but said nothing as the two of them joined them.

Billy dealt the four of them cards, but it quickly ended up being like him and Kim were a team as she was still lost on what to do. She was the first one out again, which she didn’t seem to mind as she fell into a conversation with Addi. The game soon ended after that, the two girls were too distracted with whichever movie hunk they were speaking about to pay much attention to what Eddie and Billy were doing.

“So,” Eddie drew out with a playful grin, “Are you just into step brothers or now that we’re step cousins does that change things?” He chuckled softly, looking amused as he looked towards Kim. Billy felt his spine stiffen, his shoulders straightening as he snapped his gaze towards him.

“What the fuck did you say?” Billy asked him seriously, his voice laced with anger as he stared furiously into Eddie’s dark eyes. His expression changed in a second, turning into panic as he understood his mistake.

“Kidding, kidding,” Eddie leaned far back in his chair as he held his hands up innocently, his brown eyes wide in fear, “Please don’t hit me again. I was just trying to break the tension.” He begged softly, closing his eyes like he waited for his doom. Kim giggled softly, reaching forward to squeeze Billy’s hand.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Addi scoffed as she pushed at Eddie’s shoulder, “He really was just kidding.” She laughed, sounding a little nervous as well as she ran her fingers through Eddie’s messy hair. Billy mumbled as he settled back in his spot.

“It’s alright,” Kim smiled as she squeezed Billy’s shoulders, “It’s just been a long week.” She explained as she rested her cheek against Billy’s shoulder. He nodded his head in agreement, letting her make up the excuses for him.

“I didn’t know Susan was so-,” Eddie paused for a moment, “Fiery.” He explained as he straightened himself out. He pressed his finger against Addi’s nose a second later, giving her nose a soft push.

“Yeah,” Kim sighed as she pushed her hair out of her face, “She just doesn’t like my dad.” She mumbled underneath her breath, but looked like she had more she wanted to add to it. Billy watched her, feeling enhanced at the way her features wrinkled up into deep thoughts.

“She’s being really unfair towards you,” Addi piped up quickly, “I thought she was going to be alright with your relationship?” She asked curiously, her dark eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Billy shrugged his shoulders as he leaned back, beginning to rub soft circles into Kim’s back.

“I guess she changed her mind.” She said at last, looking a little distant as she thought about her answer. Billy felt a little bad, wondering if Susan had tried to explain anything at all. Then again, even if she had tried, he was sure that Kim didn’t want to speak to her anymore. It was a difficult situation all around.

“Sobered up.” Eddie clarified, making Billy snort. He stiffened a little bit as everyone turned towards him, looking at him curiously. He rubbed his palms across his jeans as he thought of his next answer.

“She didn’t like us together when she was drinking either,” Billy mumbled, trying to ease his way out of the topic, “I think she wanted someone better for Kim.” He teased her softly, drawing his finger across the curve of her nose. She rolled her eyes playfully before she leaned forward to kiss his fingertip.

“Addi’s mom thinks I’m a devil worshiper,” Eddie mumbled underneath his breath, but looked a little amused at his own words, “I kinda like to make her believe she’s right.” He said a second later, his lips turning into a smirk as he looked at Addi.

“She liked Billy.” Kim said a second later, grinning at him in amusement. He scoffed underneath his breath, sure that she would be horrified to know of the things that he had done. He was sure that he had done things far worse than Eddie had.

“Of course she would,” Eddie mumbled as he chewed on his fingertips, “It’s just not fair.” He shook his head a second later, looking to be in disbelief over it. Addi laughed a second later, looking like she was about to reassure him of something when the door opened again.

Max paused, catching the group of them as her features quickly wrinkled up in annoyance. She huffed, shaking her head as she walked quickly towards the hallway. Kim turned, a desperate look on her features as she followed Max’s every step.

“Max,” Kim started, “Hey can we-?” She started to ask again, slowly beginning to rise from the couch before Max raced down the end of the hallway. She slowly settled back in her seat, looking defeated as she slowly turned her attention to the floor. Billy felt a sense of irritation filling him as he stood instead.

“I’ll talk to her.” He said as he walked around Kim’s long legs, ignoring the look of worry that she sent him. He wouldn’t be a total dick, but he was going to give Max a piece of his mind. She was acting like a child.

“No it’s okay,” She sighed softly, “Just let her be.” She said quietly, pulling a stiff smile onto her lips. She looked like it was pointless, but he wanted to help. He wasn’t good at talking to people, but perhaps Max would listen to him.

“I’ll be right back.” He said instead, giving her a reassuring look before he walked down the hallway. He twisted at the doorknob, confirming that it was unlocked before he pushed it open. Max huffed on the other side, looking at him in surprise as she tried to keep him from forcing himself inside.

“Hey,” Max protested as he barged in, “I don’t want you in here!” She shouted, looking at him angrily as she pushed at his chest. He didn’t flinch, barely feeling the sensation as he glanced around the room. Her threat of moving back to Hawkins seemed to be true, as most of her things were packed away. He wondered what Sam thought about all of this.

“Well stop being a little bitch.” He said at last, knowing that it would get more of a rise out of her. He could handle her being upset at him, and preferred her to do that rather than to place all of the blame onto Kim. It wasn’t fair to her.

“Excuse me?” Max protested in anger, “I’m the bitch when-” She started to go off, her cheeks red with anger. It matched the flames in her eyes.

“You are being one,” He snapped back at her, “Don’t blame Kim for something your mom did.” He said at last, reminding her that Susan was the one to keep the secret from everybody. Despite everything, he still didn’t think it was Kim’s place to tell Max. No matter how badly Max disagreed.

“I deserved to know the truth,” Max replied, looking a little defeated despite how sharp her tone was, “It shouldn’t have been kept from me.” She said seriously. He nodded his head, fully in agreement with what she was saying. It just wasn’t Kim’s secret to tell. He was sure it would’ve made things worse. He wasn’t sure why Susan was throwing it around in the first place. He didn’t think things would be very good if Neil knew about it.

“Susan. Susan is your mom, not Kim. If you’re going to be pissed at anyone, be pissed at her for keeping that for you.” He reminded her, hoping that she would get the point. Max pursed her lips together before she inhaled deeply, looking like she was processing what he was saying.

“Do you know how messed up this is?” Max looked at him incredulously, “This means that you share a half sibling.” She gestured towards herself, as if it made a difference to Billy. He didn’t care about that. He was sure that at this point he could be fully related to Kim and he still wouldn’t lose sleep over what they were doing.

“I don’t care.” He told her truthfully, his expression and stance lazy as he leaned against her door. She stared at him, looking like he’d grown a second head. Kim was too pure to be blamed for everything that had happened. He had been the one to convince her not to tell Max in the first place.

“I don’t believe that,” Max snapped back, “I don’t believe that you could be alright with something like that.” She shook her head, like she had some morals that she was clinging to. He liked that everyone acted high and mighty suddenly when it came to the choices that him and Kim had made.

“I am,” He told her truthfully, “Kim makes me happy and I love her. I don’t care who thinks that’s wrong or right,” He took a deep breath before he got back to the important topic, “Don’t punish her by leaving.” He told her urgently, knowing that it might make things worse for Kim.

“I’m not punishing her,” Max mumbled as she turned away, like she was trying to hide from him, “I want to go back. I don’t belong here.” She said at last, looking at him seriously. He paused, really believing her words. He knew that she had friends in Hawkins, that she probably considered them to be family. It was her decision, he just hoped that she wouldn’t make Kim stress over it.

“Then make up with her,” Billy replied quickly, “She’s innocent.” He reminded her, hoping that she would believe him. Max stared up at him for a long time, looking like she was considering what he had said.

“Can you go? I’m tired.” She said at last, her expression melting away to remain stoic as she stared at him. He sighed deeply as he pulled the door open, hoping that she wouldn’t make a mistake.

“You’re going to ruin your relationship with her over your anger,” Billy spat back, “Just think if that’s what you really want.” He gave her the last piece of his mind before he shut the door behind him. He shook his head as he walked back down the hallway, a little surprised to see that Kim was gone again.

“She went to her room,” Addi spoke up as she snuggled her way underneath Eddie’s arm, “I think she’s upset again, but she didn’t want to talk.” She said softly, looking like she was disappointed with being shoved off by Kim. He supposed she wasn’t having a very nice reunion either.

He nodded his head in a quiet thanks before he walked back to her room, hoping he wouldn’t find her crying again. He pushed the door open, his eyebrows knitting together as he was met with her back. She was sitting up, but clearly holding something up to her lips.

“Hey.” He said softly as he shut the door behind him. He walked around the bed, his eyebrows raising on his forehead as he noticed what she was holding.

“I guess I’m busted,” She said softly, pausing as she rolled the little bottle through her fingers before bringing it up to her lips, “I just couldn’t stop this jittery feeling.” She admitted, looking a little defeated. He paused, knowing exactly what she meant.

He sat with her on the bed, not having any advice to give her as he slowly opened her palm and began to trace small shapes onto her skin. He wished he could change things for her, make it where she didn’t have to suffer as much. He was growing worried, fearing that she would crack underneath all the pressure.

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