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ice-man-goes-bwoah · 2 months ago

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Too Chaotic Baking||Sebastian vettel x ADHD!Fem!reader

Summary — y/n attempts to bake a cake for her and Sebastian’s get together with mick and his girlfriend.

Word count — 1466

Y/N stood in the kitchen, brow furrowed spoon clutched in her hand like it was a lifeline. The recipe card was laid on the counter partially dusted with flour and absolutely no help.

“Wait, was that the third cup or the fourth? She mumbled staring down at the half-filled mixing bowl “No I-wait. I said one out loud Two I whispered. There was the one I spilled on the floor or was that the sugar.”

From the doorway Sebastian leaned against the frame, arms crossed and wearing a fond smile “You tapped the side of the measuring cup three times you do that when you’re concentrating. I think you were about to pour the fourth”

Y/n looked up at him and blinked “You were watching me”

“Sebastian shrugged “Of course it’s cute watching you struggle with basic human instincts”

She laughed a breath of relief leaving her chest. “Okay fourth cup it is”

“Want me to read the steps out loud while you do the fun parts?”

She handed him the recipe card like it was a sacred scroll. “God yes. Before I forget if I added eggs or not and somehow bake a brick.”

Y/n handed over the flour-coated recipe card wiping her hands on the apron she didn’t tie right one strap fell off her shoulder and Sebastian gently fixed it as he took the card.

“You were supposed to be reading,” she teased, glancing at him.

“I was too busy making sure you didn’t accidentally bake the spatula into the cake,” he said with a chuckle pointing to the rubber spatula still sitting in the bowl. “You stirred it once and then left it there abandoned.”

She gasped dramatically “I would never abandon a spatula that’s ridiculous”

Seb grinned “Mhm. Alright, Miss Chaos you’ve added four cups of flour. Next is baking powder. One tablespoon.”

She reached for the small tin, opened it, and instantly paused “Wait did I already do this?”

He didn’t even look up from the card. “Nope, you picked it up, got distracted by the dog barking outside then started talking about how you think squirrels are government spies.”

Y/N blinked. “Okay but like… you can’t prove they’re not.”

“I’m aware.” He chuckled again, stepping beside her to hold the measuring spoon steady while she scooped. “There. Team effort.”

“I’m sorry I keep zoning out,” she said softly, her voice dipping just a bit, a hint of self-consciousness curling at the edges. “I wanted to do this all nice and perfect. Like those aesthetic videos. Just me, the batter, some music…”

“And now you’ve got me,” he said gently, leaning down to kiss her temple. “Not aesthetic, but very efficient.”

She smiled at that, heartwarming at the way he didn’t seem annoyed, not even a little. If anything, he looked delighted just to be here with her, in this chaos she called baking.

“Besides,” he added, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “your brain might work in loops and zigzags, but you make magic when you’re in your flow. And I’m happy to be the guy who catches whatever slips through.”

“I love you,” she said, flour in her hair and love in her eyes.

“I know,” he replied, bumping his nose against hers. “Now finish the batter before you forget what we’re doing and try to reorganize the spice rack again.”

“I’ve been meaning to do that.”

“I know.”

Y/N poured the batter into the pan, though she paused halfway through and narrowed her eyes.

“Wait. Did I add the eggs?”

Sebastian, who was mid-sip of tea, choked slightly. “Y/N please tell me you did.”

“I thought I did?” She stared at the batter like it would confess its secrets under pressure. “I cracked one… no, that was when the shell fell in. I remember fishing it out. Then I got distracted because the song changed and I did that little dance move.”

“You danced to two songs,” he pointed out gently, peeking over her shoulder. “Which suggests the eggs were… possibly forgotten.”

She groaned and grabbed a spoon, scooping a bit of batter to taste. “Nope. This is eggless. Crap. Okay. We can save this. This is fine.”

“You sure?” he asked, trying not to laugh. “Because it’s giving more ‘edible glue’ than ‘cake.’”

She shot him a look. “Hey, ADHD baking is a journey, not a destination.”

He raised his hands in surrender, then helped her pour the batter back into the mixing bowl. “Okay. Let’s call this version one a dress rehearsal.”

“Exactly!” she said, cracking the eggs into the bowl like a woman reborn. “We’ll get it right this time. I feel it. The vibe is different now. Stronger. Eggier.”

They mixed again, this time with Seb playfully reading every step out loud like a dramatic narrator. By the time the corrected batter was finally in the oven, Y/N was leaning against the counter, dusted in flour and icing sugar somehow, like she’d wrestled a ghost.

Sebastian handed her a cup of tea. “You survived.”

“I did,” she said, sipping it gratefully. “Thanks for being my anchor. And my egg tracker.”

“It’s a full-time job,” he teased, brushing her messy hair away from her face. “But the pay is good.”

“Oh yeah? What do you get paid with?”

“Kisses,” he said, and she laughed as he stole one off her lips before she could sass him again.

Thirty-five minutes later, the cake was out of the oven. And “…It’s leaning,” she observed flatly. “Why is it leaning?”

Sebastian crouched to eye level with the cooling cake. “It’s like the Leaning Tower of Pastry.”

She cut into it anyway and handed him a crooked slice. “It’s a little crunchy on one side.”

He took a bite. Chewed slowly. Swallowed. Then said with full sincerity, “It tastes like ambition.”

She burst out laughing. “That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever said ‘This is a disaster.’”

“You tried,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “And I got to watch you dance around in flour and threaten baking powder with your life. Worth it.”

“You’re the best,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“You are,” he replied. “Even when the cake tastes like regret and vanilla extract.”

They both laughed at the disaster of a so-called cake. “Do you think Mick and Magic Mouse will like it?” Y/n asked looking over at Sebastian who was poking the cake with his finger.

“Honestly I have no idea,” he said with I shrug.

Later that evening, they stood in front of Mick Schumacher’s door, Y/N holding the leaning cake on a mismatched plate like it was a crown jewel. She had strategically dusted it with powdered sugar to hide the more… textured areas.

“I’m telling you, we just have to commit to the bit,” she whispered to Seb. “Confidence is everything.”

“You sure?” he asked, clearly trying not to laugh as he eyed the cake. “It looks like it’s trying to escape the plate.”

She elbowed him. “It’s rustic. Like, rustic Parisian café. Like ‘I learned this from my grandmother in a rustic vineyard.”

“You baked it in a frenzy and forgot the eggs the first time,” he whispered back.

“Same energy.”

Mick opened the door, grinning as he stepped aside to let them in. “Hey! You brought dessert!”

Y/N beamed. “Yes. I call it… La Tarte du Chaos.”

Mick blinked. “That’s not a tart.”

“The word tart is subjective.”

They stepped inside, greeted by a warm kitchen smell and the sight of Mick’s girlfriend, Zaubermaus, helping him finish setting the table. She waved shyly, and Y/N smiled back before setting the cake down in the center like it was a holy offering.

“Smells good,” Mick said, peering at it like it might bite him. “What’s in it?”

Seb jumped in immediately. “Love. And… some flour. Maybe a hint of crisis.”

Zaubermaus leaned in and whispered, “Is it safe?”

Y/N lowered her voice too. “Honestly? Who knows. But we committed.”

They all sat down and ate dinner—easy conversation, laughter, a little teasing—and when dessert time rolled around, everyone hesitated exactly one second before cutting into the cake.

Mick chewed thoughtfully. “Okay, okay. It’s not bad.”

“I’m impressed,” Zaubermaus said gently. “It has… flavor.”

“What kind of flavor?” Y/N asked, grinning at the shyer girl.

“A mysterious one.”

Seb lifted his fork. “You know, sometimes baking is less about results and more about the journey.”

“And sometimes,” Y/N added, “the journey includes forgetting eggs, baking two cakes, and convincing your boyfriend to smuggle a slightly crunchy disaster into your friend’s house.”

Mick just laughed and raised his fork. “Too chaotic baking.”

“To chaotic baking,” they all echoed, clinking their forks together like champagne glasses.

#sebastian vettel fluff #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fic #sebastian vettel fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #f1 x you #f1

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peachessndreamss · 1 year ago

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Thunderstruck

Summery : When a scorching hot summer a thunderstorm wakes you and Eddie and gets the two of you worked up

Characters : Eddie Munson x fem!reader. no use of y/n

Warnings : explicit sexual content including, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex, canon typical drug use

Word count : 3.2 k

A/N : Previously posted on my now deleted page. Honestly just re-sharing because I still love this idea and this character. And I'm willing the summer to start here.

Is there anything sweeter than a summer thunderstorm? The weather had been oppressively hot for two weeks now, the grass was dead and yellow with the lack of rain and the soil in every flower bed deeply cracked and dusty. The town pool was full to bursting every day of the week with children and adults alike trying to escape the heat.

Eddie's home often became so hot in the day it was physically impossible to stay inside for more than a few minutes without feeling like you were being cooked alive in an oversized tin can. You’d spend the hours of sunshine sitting outside on old and creaking sun loungers listening to music on Eddie’s stereo, reading or dozing. Eddie would strip down to his boxers and stretch out his slim, pale body in the shade but only after you’d smothered him in sunscreen and he was so greasy with it he looked like a professional wrestler.

At night the trailer was a little cooler, but still every window needed to be flung open wide to coax in the almost non-existent cool breeze that danced on the warm night air. You’d sleep under a thin, cotton sheet, as anything else would have been too uncomfortable and even then, with Eddie running hot, he often abandoned the sheet all together and just slept naked and uncovered.

It had been an easy Saturday, nothing to be achieved and nowhere for either of you to be. Band practice had been cried off due to the heat and D&D wasn’t until Tuesday so you and Eddie had spent the day on the sun loungers. Eddie was re-reading The Hobbit, his copy battered and bent at the spine from the many times it had been opened and poured over. He would read his favourite parts aloud to you, giving every character their own distinct voice, he’d read it so many times now he was reciting it from memory rather than reading.

After a dinner of take away pizza enjoyed outdoors with Uncle Wayne before he headed off for his shift , and a few joints to see the day home, you and Eddie had climbed into his bed, laying as far apart as possible as to not make each other warmer than necessary.

It was very early in the morning when you were woken up, the room was still dark, not even a hint of the dawn in the darkness so it was the sound that had disturbed you and after listening for a few seconds you heard it again, the deep, rolling roar of thunder. It lasted for as long as 10 seconds before fading into a heavy silence. Then the rain started, a gentle plink-plonk at first but within moments it was a downpour. Heavy rain drops slamming into the roof of the trailer and bouncing back up only to fall again. Then another rumble of thunder and a flash of bright white lightning.

“Eddie,” you whispered, grabbing at his arm and tugging gently, “Eddie, wake up,”.

Eddie snorted and shifted onto his back, turning his head and squinting at you.

“Was it?” he grunted, confused and upset by being woken up. His nose scrunched up and his eyes struggled to open.

“Listen,” you insisted quietly, grabbing hold of his forearm. His skin was hot to touch and clammy.

It took him a few seconds to realise what you were talking about, as he listened, his brows unfurrowed and his eyes eased open. He cocked his head to one side, the tangle of curls under his head crackling on the fabric of his pillow.

“It’s raining?” he asked, glancing at you.

“It’s a thunderstorm,” you replied with a grin.

“Awesome,” he said with a grin as he sat up and flung himself off the bed and across the small room to the window, yanking back the light curtain and taking in the scene.

The sky seemed to glow dark red and stormy grey, the clouds low and flat, hanging over the town like a wet blanket. The rain that was falling was fast and heavy and the clattering, pattering sounds it made caused a shiver to run up Eddie’s spine. Suddenly there was a deafening roll of thunder, so loud it felt like it was happening inside your head, it was followed only a second later by a fork of lightning that illuminated the whole sky as it raced toward the ground.

“Shit, that’s close,” Eddie said over the sound of the rain.

“It’s so cool,” you replied, standing next to him at the window.

The air outside was now much cooler and it whipped into the open window, bringing with it a smattering of rain. Eddie slipped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. The two of you watched three more lightning strikes, Eddie was certain that the last one must have hit his favourite picnic bench because the strike had been so close.

You were now a little bored with the weather and your attention turned to the man standing beside you. You turned your head and placed a gentle kiss on his jaw, then another soft kiss on his cheek before bringing one hand up his naked back and shifting his curls away from his ear so you could kiss the lobe of his ear. You felt Eddie shudder and watched his eyes close as you let your lips linger on such a sensitive spot for him.

"It's cooler now isn't it?" You said softly, turning your whole body so your front was now at his side, you placed one hand on his stomach, feeling the warmth and softness of his skin and the slight rasp of the hair that led down to his groin.

"Yeah, a bit," Eddie swallowed as your hand moved a little lower down his stomach.

You moved your head forward and snuggled into Eddie's neck, catching the smell of his sweat from his hair and his skin as you dragged your teeth against the soft skin.

"Let's go back to bed Eddie," you mewled, your hand slipping even lower on his stomach, feeling the distinct change in his body hair, from the loose curls of his happy trail to the tighter and coarser curls of his pubic hair.

Eddie swallowed hard, his cock already hardening and thickening at your touch. In less than an inch you'd be able to wrap your hand around the root of his dick and find him so ready to fuck. While the weather had been as hot and uncomfortable as it had been sex had been completely off the menu, neither of you liking the idea of any additional physical exercise than was strictly necessary.

Eddie grabbed hold of your wrist before you reached the apex of his thighs and brought your wrist up to his mouth, biting gently at the soft underside of your wrist where a few delicate veins rose up from under your skin, almost imperceptible to the eye but Eddie knew they were there and how it made you squirm when they were touched.

A thrill of pleasure ran around your naked body as his teeth caressed the delicate skin at your wrist before he kissed it softly.

"Bed please, my love," he whispered before letting your wrist go and giving you a little bump with his hip in the direction of the bed.

You smiled sweetly as you slipped out of his embrace and stepped back to the bed. Climbing on the end of the bed, glancing back over your shoulder while on all fours, finding Eddie watching you with his mouth open and a hungry look in his eyes.

"Like this?" You asked, wiggling your hips from side to side.

Eddie shook his head as he started to gather up his curls into an elastic he kept around his wrist.

"On your back baby," he replied as he tightened the bun at the back of his head.

You grinned, feeling your body’s Pavlovian response to seeing his hair tied back like that as you flipped over onto your back in the centre of the small bed, your head resting on the pillow as Eddie positioned himself comfortably between your thighs. He'd settled himself with his cock trapped between his stomach and the mattress so when the mood took him he could grind down on the mattress.

He ran his tongue over his lips as he looked up at your face, one of his forearms slipping around your thigh and lifted it onto his shoulder, your foot now resting on his back. His other hand pushed your other thigh aside, pushing your sex open for him. He made a sound of appreciation deep in his chest before he used two fingers to spread your slick lips open, exposing you even more intimately, giving him unlimited access to your clit, your entrance and with a tilt of your hips he'd have access to your tight asshole too. But right now, Eddie only had one thing on his mind.

"Hey sweetheart," he cooed softly, dipping his head forward and placing a soft, closed lip kiss just above your clit.

"I've missed you," he continued in a soft, lilting voice, placing another kiss just below your clit.

You made a soft purring sound, lifting your hips up a little, urging him to get to the main event. Eddie chuckled and gave you a very gentle slap on the thigh.

“Don't rush me," he insisted, lifting his head to speak to you, "we need to get reacquainted and she's shy," he added before touching the pad of his thumb to your clit, the sudden direct contact making you jerk your hips off the bed and your hands claw at the bedsheet.

"See?" He said with a grin as he cocked his eyebrow at you, "she's skittish,".

Eddie returned his attention to your pussy and continued his slow torture, kissing around your clit, occasionally giving a small lick either side but never touching it directly. In what felt like hours to you, but was only 2 minutes in reality Eddie had you rocking and twisting your hips, trying to force him to give you the contact you wanted.

"Eddie please, please please," you moaned as your hands fisted at the bedsheet.

Eddie chuckled softly, rubbing his chin against the thigh he had hooked over his shoulder.

"Needy, needy girl," he whispered sweetly before finally kissing your clit.

The bud was tight and thumping in time with your heartbeat and Eddie's wet mouth created an explosion of pleasure and pain as the thousands of nerve endings were stimulated in unison. You gave a strangled cry, bucking your hips up and bringing one of your hands down on the back of Eddie's head, holding him in place, rocking your hips against his open mouth, feeling the hot, wetness of his tongue as he danced it over and around your clit. There was no consistency to his movements yet so while pleasure rolled around your body you knew he wasn't trying to make you come yet. He was still holding back.

You moaned and bucked again, pushing Eddie's head down harder, feeling the press of his nose into your pubic mound.

"Eddie, fuck, Eddie," you groaned as you noticed for the first time the slow, undulating movements of his lower body.

You lifted your head up and watched his hips pressing and grinding down against the mattress, the muscles in his bare ass popping as he rolled his hips and clenched his glutes and thighs. The sight of him fucking at the mattress sent your body and mind spiraling as you dropped back onto the pillow and moaned loudly, your whole body suddenly more alive than ever.

Eddie's tongue was now constantly licking at your clit, his lips fixed around it creating a hot, wet seal around the bud. Eddie let you buck and grind and hold his face down all you needed until you finally reached your peak. Your voice disappeared for a few seconds as you felt nothing but hot pleasure rushing around your body.

As your muscles clenched and stars exploded behind your eyes a streak of lightning raced across the sky, turning the room as bright as your body felt for a few seconds. Your hand released Eddie's head and he moved a little, not enough to break contact but to ease up on your clit, stopping the intense licking and changing back to soft kisses to draw out your climax until you were shaking and writhing, nothing but soft mewling noises coming from your mouth.

"Oh god," you moaned softly as Eddie moved his kisses to the inside of your thighs, his eyes travelling up your body to your face.

"That was so cool baby," he whispered, "you came so hard there was lightning,".

You gave a soft laugh, lifting your head to look at the sweet man between your legs, he was looking up at you, his big brown eyes looking soft and loving.

"Get up here and fuck me," you said, twisting a curl of his hair that had fallen loose around your finger.

"Fuck yeah baby," Eddie replied as he clambered up, crawling up your body, pushing your thighs apart and bringing his hard cock right to your waiting entrance.

You were both beyond ready so Eddie sank into you easily, placing his hands on your thighs and drawing them up his body so you cradled him either side of his chest. He rested with his forearms either side of your head and kissed you deeply and he pressed his hips forward, filling your body with his, making you whole and creating a passionate fusion of your two bodies and your two souls.

You broke away from his mouth and moaned his name, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging deep and leaving red marks in his alabaster skin. Eddie hissed at the burn of your nails in his flesh but the hiss quickly turned to a laugh as he dipped his head and licked up the column of your neck to your chin before kissing you again, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he drew his hips back before driving forward again.

You broke away from his lips, taking a deep gasping breath as the head of Eddie's cock hit right against your g-spot. As the lights burst behind your closed eyes the sky seemed to shake with a huge rumble of thunder, it was so loud and so close it felt like it might have made the trailer shake but it was hard to tell if the shaking was the weather, or Eddie as he picked up his pace.

He moves from drawing out and pushing forward to grinding, keeping his cock buried deeply inside you and rocking his hips back and forth, meaning he was able to constantly stimulate you internally as well as externally, your clit now being rubbed by the muscles of Eddie's pelvis. You clawed at Eddie's back, crying out as you felt your second climax starting to build deep inside your belly.

"Eddie, oh God, Eddie," you breathed.

You moved your hands from his back to his face. Catching his cheeks between your hands and bringing his face close to yours, pressing your foreheads together. His face was sweaty and so was yours, your two sweats mingling on your skin.

You felt so completely connected to him it was overwhelming, Eddie was everywhere and, in that moment, he was everything as well. The intimacy of it all aided in pushing you over the edge very quickly, your orgasm burst outward with the power of an exploding star. Your legs gripping Eddie's chest and your arms dragging his upper body closer to yours so it was impossible to tell who skin was who's.

With a stuttering and guttural cry, taken by surprise by your suddenly gripping, milking pussy Eddie came, hard and deep. Filling you up as another rumble of thunder and flash of lightning split the sky.

The two of you seem to float, for a while, suspended in space and time, your bodies both corporeal and ethereal, human and divine. You come back to the sound of the pattering rain and the tickle of Eddie's curls, the weight of his body feels safe and the heat of his skin feels comforting.

"Eddie baby?" You said softly, stroking your fingers down his spine.

"Yeah?" He mumbled, his face pressed deep into the space beside your neck.

"You okay?".

"Baby," Eddie sighed, lifting himself up to look at your face, "that was the best," he grinned.

You giggled, more of the physical sensations of post sex coming back to you. An ache in your hips, a stretch between your thighs, and warm wetness on your thighs.

"It was good," you agreed.

"I think we should always have sex when there's a thunderstorm," he said sleepily as he moved, withdrawing his softening cock from you and flopping down beside, patting a spot on his chest where he wanted you to put your head.

You wriggled toward him and placed your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around your body and the two of you kissed deeply.

"I feel like we just conceived the anti-Christ or something," you said with a giggle.

Eddie scoffed and shook his head.

"Don't even joke," he replied, kissing the top of your head tenderly.

The rain seemed to be slowing and the rumbles of thunder sounded further away, the storm seemed to be rolling on, maybe waking up other young lovers as it went.

Eddie dropped off to sleep after a few minutes, his body and mind completely relaxed and satisfied. You stayed awake a little longer, the day was getting lighter by the second and Eddie's features were being revealed to you in glorious golden morning hues. You were contemplating how much he looked like an angel from a painting when you dropped off to sleep yourself.

The two of you woke up a second time when Wayne came home from his shift with paper bags of hot and greasy breakfast food. The three of you sat around the small table and ate. Wayne was tired from his shift and you and Eddie were dozy from being up half the night enjoying each other's bodies. The day after the storm was cooler, the air fresher. The plants seemed to be greener and the sky bluer and even the people seemed more friendly, Eddie's usually sullen neighbour greeting you when you stepped out of the trailer to find your rain soaked sneakers.

Eddie brought his guitar out that day and he sat beside you on the same sun lounger and strummed chords, humming tunes and making up nonsense songs. Songs about his D&D campaign, songs about summer, songs about love, and one about passionate nights while lightning splits the sky.

Hearing him recount the night before in his deep, rich singing voice sent shivers down your spine.

"You're not sharing that one with the band are you?" You asked as he came up with a lyric about how the sound of the thunder was second to the sounds you make when he’s inside you.

Eddie chuckled and shook his head.

"This one's just for you and me baby,".

#Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson romance #Eddie Munson x y/n #Stranger Things fanfic #Joseph Quinn #Joseph Quinn character #Eddie Munson imagine #Stranger Things character #eddie munson x female reader

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stormcloudrising · 11 months ago

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Listened to the full lyrics of Long Face and I love them, and I have some random thoughts on the lyrics. Interesting meaning behind the words with the piano analogy.

The words are obviously meant to represent Lestat’s thoughts about Louis, and what I find interesting is that they see each other the same way. Makes me wonder who wrote the song. Did Lestat write it to put himself in Louis shoes in an attempt to understand him, or in response to the scene from Season 1 episode 2 after Louis kills the agent and they burn the body.

Louis sees their differences in terms of the world they live in and how others see them. Creole/French; Black man/white man; Queer/????? Etc. Lestat on the other hand sees their differences in more idolized romantic terms…basically how they see each other not how the world sees them.

Or was the song written as a duet with maybe Louis also writing Lestat a letter with the latter putting it to music. It’s a tin foil idea but the lyrics sound almost how Louis would describe the two of them…not the other way around.

If you asked Louis how he saw Lestat, he would say that he was filled with fire and energy. And it turns out that’s how Lestat sees Louis. Fire to his calmer self (LOL). But then again, you never see yourself the way others see you.

On the other hand, Lestat is always questing for love and so on that level, the lyrics do makes sense. The song also matches up to his thoughts about Louis when he first sees him pull a knife on Paul. And while Lestat always wants to test the boundaries, he’s always been lonely, which definitely matches up to how he sees himself in the song. Louis fills the void in him.

The lyrics are all about two pianos creating a harmonious sound. Makes me wonder if that’s what he was practicing with his board and Siri. Was he writing the lyrics then. Lestat sees them as opposites who together create the perfect sound.

I’m piano (quiet)

And you’re forte (loud and strong)

You’re Allegro (lively)

I’m Andante (slow or moderate pace)

We’re Bolero (here he’s talking about Ravel’s Bolero, which is basically a repeated melody that builds and builds to include the entire orchestra. It was also originally published as a piano duet.

He’s also saying that his stage persona is not him. He’s an actor wearing makeup. Louis knows the real him but Louis keeps running and he’s calling him out on it. It also interesting that he says “I get fatter, when we breakup.” That suggests some type of spiraling on his part when he and Louis break up. He gets fatter on the blood. The Rock Documentary is for Louis.

I’m very interested to see where season three starts because the lyrics almost sound like they got back together and Louis did one of his bunker like in the books and just disappeared.

Of course, the song is likely just an encapsulation of their relationship as it will be covered going forward and not about any specific off screen event. If so, we’re in for a treat.

Season 3 can’t get here soon enough for me.

#interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire chronicles #amc iwtv #iwtv s3 #long face #vampire Lestat teaser #rockstar lestat #itwtv season 3

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baronessvonglitter · 10 months ago

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Vices

Din Djarin x OFC x bi! f!Reader x OMC | WC: 4.3K

Summary: You're not one to be shy of your vices, but a night with a mysterious woman has you and your work partner Din chasing new highs.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, reader is bisexual so if that's not your thing then feel free to scroll on, group sex (kinda), jealousy, jealous!Din, oral (m & f receiving), p i v sex, f/f/m threesome, fingering, come eating, little bit of three way kissing, one night stand, playfully light dom/sub tones, subby!Din and dom-ish!Reader, Din's helmet stays on (mostly), shy!Din, creampie, no use of y/n (if i've forgotten anything please LMK)

Author's note: I don't know how I haven't already written about Din, who's actually how I even came to know Pedro existed in the first place. So here it goes - not 100% canon as I have screwed with some facts to suit my story - don't come at me. It's just fiction. Also I was feeling some Cyberpunk 2077 vibes, specifically Lizzie's Bar which was the inspo for my banner.

FULL MASTERLIST

"Just make a move, already. You've been watching her all night," you tell Din.

You hear him scoff just below his breath, his helmet unable to filter out every sound he makes. "I'm not watching, I'm just looking," he retorts curtly, averting his gaze from the person attracting his interest.

"Same difference," you say, finishing the dregs of your drink, giggling as your unexpected date for the night, known only as Elex, wraps his arm around your waist, tickling your neck with teasing kisses. You remember your promise to Din before leaving the ship: "If I'm getting laid, you're getting laid."

Din sighs, wishing he was elsewhere, feeling out of place here.

You're both taking some much needed R&R on Coruscant, and your natural instinct for vice and debauchery has led you to an underground club known mostly to those in the spice trade, pleasure seekers, and those just looking for an escape.

The club is massive despite its clandestine reputation; crowds of outlaws, outcasts, and delinquents congregate the dance floor and the bar; blue and magenta and violet lights lend a dreamy, lascivious glow to the multitude. Perfume scents the air, along with liquor, sweat, and the not-so-subtle aroma of sex: the result of the crush of many bodies together in one place. The music is deafening, bass pumping in your blood, harmonizing with your heartbeat once you get used to the roar, its melody effortless, the same notes over and over, only played at various speeds, circling and crescendoing until the bass drops and the whole thing starts over again, mindless, persisting.

No one comes here for the music even though many come to dance.

It's a dancer that's caught Din's eye, and you'd be lying if you said she hasn't caught your attention as well.

"She's beautiful," you poke his side with your elbow.

"I guess she is," he mutters, his eyes dragging up and down the outline of her body.

"That armor starting to feel a little tight in the pants?" you tease him. "Why don't you go talk to her?" you tell him again.

Din freezes, his face burning as you continue to goad him. "No way am I going to embarrass myself," he says stubbornly. He's aware he stands out already, stiff, a tin can compared to the constant flow of party people, moving, dancing, hustling, some even fucking.

Just then the dancer starts towards you three. "She's coming this way!" You elbow him again.

"Maker have mercy," he mutters as she approaches.

"Be cool, Din," you warn him. His heart thumps hard against his ribcage.

You introduce yourself and your new friend Elex. "And this is my work partner Din," you smile brightly.

"Pleasure to meet you," she replies in a sultry voice.

"Din was admiring you, but he's shy," you pat his shoulder, grinning because you just know under that helmet he's seething, quite possibly blushing. By now you've come to know his looks, despite the visor shielding you from them. And right now, this particular angling of his head, staring straight at you, he's signaling to you: you're dead.

"A shy warrior? Who would have thought?" the woman says smoothly, not hiding the fact that she's checking him out.

You nudge him to say something. "I'm doing all the work," you tell him through gritted teeth.

He clears his throat. "I, uh.." His mind draws a blank and he curses himself internally, struggling to form a coherent thought, let alone a full sentence. "You're.. pretty," he mumbles lamely, mentally kicking himself. Pretty? That's all he could come up with? Pathetic.

You force a laugh. "He's more himself when he's going after a bounty."

"Is that so?" she tilts her head at him, her laugh a musical sound that makes Din's heart skip a beat.

"Ask her name," you whisper, trying to enjoy your own date instead of spoon-feeding Din his lines.

His shoulders tense, fists clenching at his side, he asks her name, and she replies, "Saskia."

"Saskia," he repeats to himself, enjoying the roll of it off his tongue.

"A Mandalorian bounty hunter, huh? You look like you could do a number on someone," she says, running her finger along the beskar on his breastplate, shamelessly eyeing him.

"You should see him in action," you chime in, breaking away momentarily from your mini-makeout session with Elex. "He's unstoppable."

"Oh really?" Her eyes never leave his form, taking in all she can of this broad-shouldered, quiet warrior.

"Saskia, let us buy you a drink," you offer.

The glasses you're given are filled with glowing blue concoctions, vapor rising, wrapping the four of you in a haze as you offer a toast: "To trying new things."

Saskia's eyes flutter at Din, her smile coy and promising. "How about it?" she asks, her voice low and sultry. "Feel like trying something new?"

Go for it! you mouth behind her, catching Din's gaze, excited for him.

He steels himself, knowing at this point the only way out was to commit. "Yeah. Sure," he mumbles, shifting awkwardly under Saskia's ogling.

She leads you to a private room upstairs, the music dimmed but the bass still thumping and for a moment Din confuses it for the beat of his own heart. The room is spacious, empty of people but in expectance of them. A large sofa doubling as a bed takes up most of the center of the room, unmistakable in what the room is used for.

You playfully nudge his hip with yours before Elex leads you to a smaller loveseat, placing you on the edge of the arm as you begin to kiss.

Saskia is seated, and Din's eyes are drawn to her legs, slowly sliding apart as she leans back, her smooth shapely thighs revealed as her form-fitting outfit rides up.

"Don't you ever take that helmet off?" she asks as he sits next to her at a polite distance.

His eyes flick from her face to her legs, his mind running wild with ideas. "No. I don't," he answers. "It's part of The Way."

From across the room you suppress a groan, keeping tabs on their conversation, knowing women like Saskia enjoy banter, not lessons on the Mandalorian heritage. My buddy isn't doing so great. But you have your own thing going on. Elex gropes your curves as he slowly gets to his knees.

"If you never take your helmet off," Saskia's saying, leaning in close to Din, "then how do you kiss?"

He sucks in a sharp breath, once again speechless by her bluntness. He stumbles over his words for a moment before getting an answer out. "We- we don't," he mumbles awkwardly.

Saskia lets out a small snicker, wetting her full lips. "So what do you do?"

Din's face burns underneath his helmet. He's already so flustered by the situation, and wants to avoid an embarrassing conversation. "We have other ways.. of being intimate," he says at last.

"You wanna show me?" Her hand is on his leg.

As if seeking permission, Din seeks you out, finding you engrossed with Elex. A pang of jealousy shoots through him, taking him by surprise.

"Looks like your pretty friend's busy," Saskia smirks. "Do you want another drink?"

He's about to answer when he hears you let out a soft groan from the other side of the room. He turns his head to see you, pressed to the arm of the loveseat, skirt lifted over your hips as Elex's face is buried between your thighs, your head tipped back in ecstasy.

Din's whole body freezes, his eyes glued to the sight of you. He grips the drink glass in his hand so tight it almost shatters as his eyes rake over your figure, the way your body writhes in pleasure. Another pang of envy grips his chest, this one deeper and more intense than the first. He can't explain why watching you with this man - when he's heard you with other men before - has him affected so.

"Think we can outdo them?" Saskia's challenge rises to his ears, her hand rubbing his thigh, moving upwards ever so slightly with each brush forward, testing the waters.

She manages to bring him out of his stupor, reminding him that the woman beside him is just as real as the woman he's never thought of as more than a friend, currently with a man between her legs.

"Yeah," he bites out, his voice deep and rough. "We can outdo them."

Saskia smiles predatory-like and pushes him back to the sofa, taking a pillow and putting it down before she kneels on it, right in between his spread legs. "There we go," she coos, cupping his crotch, smiling as she hears the hitch in his breath. With a little maneuvering she has him freed from his clothes, large, hot, and pulsing in her hand. "Be as loud as you want, baby," she encourages.

His hips involuntarily buck into her hand, desperate for more. He lets out a shaky exhale, managing to choke out a response. "Fuck."

She enjoys how easy it is to bring him to life. "A very blessed warrior indeed," she whispers in awe before gripping the base of his cock and licking long stripes upwards, tongue swirling around the leaky head, gazing up at his visor as she spits, taking turns stroking him and sucking him.

Din lets out a strangled noise, one gloved hand gripping her hair, pushing her head further down when her warm mouth surrounds him. "You're so kriffing good," he mutters, the pleasure close to overwhelming.

In the midst of your own pleasured haze, you look up to see Saskia obviously pleasing Din. You gasp, stunned, the sight of them momentarily taking you out of the intimacy of Elex's tongue in your cunt. You're not shocked at what they're doing but shocked at the lightning bolt of jealousy that goes straight through your chest. You watch them a moment, letting yourself seethe with yearning.

Not shy about your competitive streak, you get louder with your own lover. "Yes! Yes.. so good! I'm gonna come!"

Din's eyes flick up at the sound of your voice, his stomach flipping with envy, and in one brief moment of ire he wants to snap Elex's neck, but he keeps his eyes on you as Saskia shoves him deep in her throat, and his own breathing comes in fast, ragged gasps.

"Fuck!" you cry out, returning Din's gaze, a silent dare speaking volumes.

His jaw clenches, holding back the possessive urge to cross the room and rip you away from that man.

Saskia takes notice, momentarily slowing down her efforts. "You're so close, so tense," she remarks in a sultry manner.

Din is like a dam on the verge of bursting, his need building up in him, especially after seeing you with that guy, some idiot you only just met tonight. He tries to keep himself together, stay in the moment, keep himself under this beautiful woman's spell. "Please--" he chokes out, his voice rough and low, his control slowly unraveling.

You gasp as Elex bends you over the arm of the sofa, skirt going up as he pushes into you from behind, eyes closed as he starts to move.

Din's heart lurches in his chest, still fixated on you. If it was possible for him to burn a hole through you with just his stare he would accomplish just that.

You like watching them?" Saskia asks, gently turning him to her instead. "Feel me while you watch her."

She undresses him from the waist down, sensing his reluctance to be fully unclothed, revealing each delicious inch of flesh. Strong thighs with a light sprinkling of pale brown hair, his cock springing out perfectly from a nest of brown curls, her only clue as to what he looks like beneath his helmet. A perfect seat for her.

He needs a distraction, anything to pull his attention away from the overwhelming jealousy gnawing away at his insides. He's thankful for the teasing way in which Saskia divests herself of her skimpy clothing, her body lithe and obviously made for pleasure.

When she slides down onto him, facing away, long legs parting to fit over his, it feels like a miracle and a sin. He gives a strangled moan as she takes him deep, her grip on him tight and unyielding. She grinds against him as he bottoms out, savoring the delicious feel of him, and he grips her hips, commandeering the situation for the first time tonight, delighting in Saskia's loud gasp as he pushes up into her welcoming cunt, needing to push away the thought of you riding him. He needs this. He needs her to distract him.

You watch with thinly veiled jealousy as Saskia rides Din. Even through his helmet you can sense his need for her, his pleasure. You want to be the one responsible for his pleasure. Even as you close your eyes you can't block out the thought of Din being the one inside you instead of Elex. "Harder," you beg your partner. "Faster."

Din swallows a moan, eyes narrowed with envy and with competition as he hears you with Elex, the needful sound of your voice making his body tingle. He needs you, craves you, his possessive instincts flaring, unable to tear his sight away from you.

He grips Saskia's hips tighter, his mind racing. "Don't stop." he commands gruffly.

She smiles and rides him harder, thighs quivering with each collision of her flesh on his. "You could just fuck her, you know," she offers breathlessly. "It's pretty obvious you want to."

Din's breath catches in his chest. He does want you - so badly it hurts. "It's not - unh! that simple," he grunts out.

"Nothing ever is," Saskia gives a sharp gasp, still moving.

"I can't have her. She's not for me." His breathing is labored with the strain of keeping control. He has a need to outlast the man you're with, as if to prove a point.

"Why not?" Saskia asks, nodding to you and Elex, still going at it. "Is she for him?"

Din's jaw clenches at the sight of you with him, hates the way his stomach twists in knots. "She's not for anyone."

"Make me come," she moans. "It'll make her so jealous."

Show her what she's missing..

Saskia cries out as his hips buck up against her, and after a few rough thrusts she comes apart, moaning his name.

It takes immense concentration for him not to follow after, to remain unsatisfied. He needs something more, his body still humming with desire, desperate for the one woman his eyes have been on the whole night.

You glare daggers at Saskia, watching and listening as she comes, wishing it was you. Just then Elex speeds up, gripping your hips tightly, slamming into you so hard that you come as well, your eyes fixed on Din, who goes rigid watching you in return.

His breathing is shaky, heart thundering in his chest. He feels Saskia's hand on his arm, trying to get his attention, but he can't tear his eyes from you. He's frozen in place, mind filled with you and only you.

Elex pulls out of you, stroking himself until his warm cum splashes onto your ass, painting his release on you. Din instantly hates him for marking you so primitively. Elex cleans you off, giving you a pat on the ass before leaving, probably going in search of his next conquest. You roll your eyes. Guys are the same on every planet.

Now alone with Saskia and Din, you boldly approach them. "Excuse me, but you're in my seat," you tell her.

Saskia smirks and you want to wipe it right off her face. She doesn't look the least bit intimidated.

"Is that so?" she makes no move to leave Din's lap. "Looks like I've already claimed it."

You sit next to them, making yourself comfortable, shedding the last of your clothing. "I don't mind de-throning you." You kiss her softly, palming her supple breast.

She moans softly, reacting to your kiss, cunt squeezing around Din's still-hard cock, making him groan. He's about to lose control now that you're here, proving a point, making him want you.

"Is this how you're going to 'de-throne' me?" Saskia teases. "With sweet kisses and caresses?"

"That's only the beginning. I'm going to make you come harder than he can." With that, you bend down in front of them and she lifts herself up. You put your face to where they're joined and use kitten licks around her folds, sweeping your tongue in circles around her sex before wiggling your tongue against her clit, smirking to yourself at her barely-concealed moans.

Din hangs on by a mere thread, heart beating double time, now using all of his self-control not to either thrust up into Saskia and fill her up with his cum, or better yet to push her off and fuck you hard, spread-eagled beneath him like he's always fantasized.

"Is that all?" Saskia asks as you pull away a moment from your ministrations. "I doubt you'll be able to break me apart so easily."

"Get off his lap," you say in a low, authoritative voice, making no mistake that you intend her to comply.

Still kneeling, you have a perfect view as she slips off Din's lap, watching as Din's cock comes into view, slick with her arousal, and so thick, heavy under its own weight as it springs back up once Saskia rises. You want you mouth on it, to taste him and her. As she gets situated sitting next to him, you press two fingers deep inside her cunt, brushing her hand away when she dares to try to grab Din's flesh.

Din lets out a surprised sigh as your warm, wet mouth descends on his dick, and he thrusts up slowly, refraining from slamming his whole length into your welcoming throat as he desperately wants to do.

He's delicious.. but you force yourself away for a moment, kneeling between Saskia's spread thighs as you run your tongue up and down her crease. "I didn't think you'd be so.. talented." She threads her fingers through your hair, gasping and trembling, and you chuckle, letting the sound vibrate against her cunt.

"My first preference is always women. But occasionally.." your free hand strokes Din's cock.

Listening to his and Saskia's sighs you kiss up her body, sucking at her nipple while your fingers move inside her again. Her back arches, pressing herself to your mouth, her eyes darting from you to Din and back again, imagining scenarios you've likely already envisioned yourself.

"Din, you should taste her," you tell him, tempting him to lift his helmet up a little as you bring your glistening fingers to him, heart leaping as he reveals his pink, pouty lips that close around your proffered fingers. His tongue swirls around them, licking off every last trace of Saskia's nectar.

"Good boy," you can't help but murmur, going back to Saskia's needy cunt and wrapping your arms around her thighs. She trembles in your grasp, her body completely at your mercy, keeping a light grip on your hair as you continue your work, her breath coming in sharp gasps. You suction your lips around her bud, thrusting your fingers in and out of her slippery pussy. She cries out, body arching off the sofa, eyes squinting shut. "You're-- so.. good!" she gasps.

"You taste so sweet.. heavens, you're so wet," you murmur.

Saskia moans. "Please don't stop.. almost there.."

"Not gonna stop, not until this pretty pussy comes all over my face," you tell her, still lapping up her juices.

She lets out a strangled gasp, her svelte body tensing.

"That's it, come for me," you coax her.

It's a thing of beauty to watch her come, the way her body seizes up, tenses and releases, her tight little pussy clamping down on your invading fingers. Your clit throbs just watching her, needing your own release. Purring, you lap up every drop of her essence.

Saskia collapses against the sofa, body limp and trembling, breaths coming out in ragged gasps. She looks absolutely wrecked, completely satisfied and disheveled. She leans against Din's shoulder, eyes drifting to his naked lap. "And you," she breathed, "haven't gotten a chance yet."

"He will." You get up, heart pounding as you slowly straddle Din's lap. "Is this okay?" you whisper.

His body is taut, breathing shaky. Despite the cover of his helmet you can feel his eyes burning into you.

"Yes," he whispers hoarsely. "Please."

Your breath hitches as the bulbous head of his dick presses into you. Din trembles with restraint. "Kriff," he groans, voice rough. "You feel so--"

"Oh Din," you moan, slowly bringing yourself down on him.

"More," he utters. "Faster." His grip on your hips is tight, unyielding.

You savor the feel of him, bigger than you'd imagined, filling you, and at his command you move faster, the friction like lightning. His hands move to your thighs, pulling you down on him at his own pace. You cry out his name as he impales you over and over upon his rigid cock, bucking up into your tight channel.

He lifts his helmet again, just enough to reveal his mouth, brushing his lips across your neck, his warm breath on your skin the most intimate thing you've felt. He nips at your throat, stubble scratching against your skin as his mouth traces to your ear.

"I've always wanted this, cyare," he confesses, no longer the timid work partner, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours, his kiss hungry and desperate, all his pent-up desire pouring into it. Still gripping your thighs he holds you down on him as he devours your mouth. With the entire length of him buried inside you, your cunt twitches around him, needing you or him to move.

You taste Saskia on his tongue, remembering she's still there, sitting close and watching your love play with Din, her hands running lazily over her body.

"Kiss him," you tell her. "Thank him for making you come."

Din keeps his helmet lifted as she gives him a soft, sensual kiss. Thank you seems inadequate for what he's given her tonight, but she says it, a low purr against his pouty pink lips.

He's so good," you murmur as they kiss, his fingers splayed against your ass, grabbing your cheeks as you continue to ride him. Greedily, you join their kiss, your lips and teeth and tongues clashing, a messy kiss indeed, but nothing about this night has been tidy.

He's flustered under your praise, storing the sound of it away for later, blushing and glad you can't see it. "I-- I need--"

"You need to come," you say simply. "But not yet. You made Saskia come, and now it's my turn."

Saskia chuckles, her fingertips trailing his arm. "She's going to completely wreck you, you know that?"

Din lets out a breathless laugh, body tensing as you move on top of him. You pull Saskia in for a kiss as she cups your breast, her other hand traveling to the apex of your thighs. Din watches the two of you, rapt, as she kisses your neck, lips moving down your chest, leaving a trail of soft kisses in their wake.

"You both feel.. so.. good," you moan, moving faster.

Saskia's teeth graze your neck, fingers pressing your clit. You caress her breast, giving her nipple a pinch before lightly swatting the firm flesh, then dipping your fingers into her wetness again.

"Ride my fingers, just like that," you swipe your thumb over her sensitive nub as you ride Din harder. "Want you both to come with me.."

Saskia's tight cunt flutters around your fingers, and Din groans as you pick up the pace.

"Doing so well," you murmur to both of them, Saskia's slick coats your hand. "Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby." You stay still while she does.

"Gods!" Your eyes screw shut tight as you rear back, your climax growing and radiating outward. "I'm coming!" you shout hoarsely as a strong, sweet shudder rocks your world. Saskia follows close behind, clenching as she comes undone on top of your fingers, and Din tenses before he comes deep inside you, thrusting up into you once, twice, thrice as a guttural moan tears from his throat.

Moments later, you chuckle darkly as you're all slumped over together, sweaty, satisfied.

Who knows how long you lay there, in and out of sated, dreamless sleep, until your comm device goes off. Grunting, you lean over Din to rifle through your discarded clothes to find it and stop its incessant beeping. "Damn it," you mutter. "We gotta go." You gently shake his shoulder.

He groans, reluctantly pulling himself from his relaxed, contented sleep. "Is it a client?" he asks. His voice is soft and groggy, making you desire him again.

"Yeah, new bounty. The signal here's choppy, I'm waiting for an image."

Din gets up, sore, and not just from the debauchery with you and Saskia last night, but from the times he'd been shot at, thrown around, and fought in the past few days. "I'll get the ship ready," he grumbles, stretching, reaching to the floor to get his clothes as well. "Hey, she's gone.." he says, puzzled.

You see the spot where Saskia had laid with you, now empty, as if she'd never existed.

"Where did she go?" Din asks.

You smile at his naivete. "I don't think she didn't want to say goodbye."

Once you're dressed and ready to go, your comm device beeps again, the signal strong enough to provide an image to go along with your new bounty.

"You've gotta be kidding me," you mutter in disbelief.

He snaps his head towards you, knowing that tone in your voice. "What?"

You almost laugh, showing him the image sent to you. "Take a look at our new target."

It's Saskia.

dividers by @firefly-graphics 👑

tagging those who showed interest in my snippet last week: @rivnedell @the-mandawhor1an @notjustjavierpena @evolnoomym @woopeingg @ice-echo26

#pedro pascal #din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din dijarin x reader #din dijarin fanfiction #pedro boys #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ao3 fanfic

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oneforthemunny · 2 years ago

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christmas (baby, please come home) |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: it's not the most wonderful time of the year for everyone, including you and eddie.

apart of my munny's merriest that you can read here!

contains: angst. eddie is mean. past parental trauma. grief. holiday grief and sadness. angst really.

Heavy boots, covered with slush and snow from the frozen ground below, pounded up the creaking wooden porch. Eddie huffed, his breath clouding around him, a gloved hand reaching for the screen door. The toe of his work boots knocked against the doorway, kicking off the remainder of the snow from the icy, winter wonderland that arrived overnight, just in time for Christmas Eve. With it, came an icy chill that had Eddie working overtime to make sure the horses were warm.

It was an odd feeling, walking into the mud room, plopping on the bench to pull off his boots. Eddie waited, inhaling in the cold, crisp air, waiting for the warmth to flood back to his system. That cozy heat to thaw out the chill that shocked his system, left his cheeks red and frost bitten from the cold. The euphoric feeling of relief that coated him every time he walked in from the snow. It never came.

In fact, it felt colder in the house.

In the house that was decorated, halls decked and every square inch covered with Christmas. The usual homey contentment that came from looking at the decorations was gone, replaced with a miserable, heavy feeling settled deep in the pit of his stomach, feeling him with a sickening guilt.

Visions of your fight, hateful words piled on with yells and slamming doors, right there in the kitchen. A kitchen that should be filled with Burl Ives’ Christmas album on a loop was missing its merry music; it was missing you.

“We always spend Christmas with my family.”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s always about you, what you wanna fuckin’ do!”

Eddie could see your face as if it was in front of him again. The way your expression fell, crumbling before him, the betrayal in your eyes rimmed with flecks of hurt. It made his stomach turn all over again.

“You don’t- I thought you liked spending time with my family.” Your voice was small, far too small for your usual tone. “They always love spending time with you, Ed.”

“Oh, yeah, to you they do.” He scoffed, eyes rolling so hard he gave himself a headache. He could feel it now. “You always leave me with your asshole uncle, who always wants to tell me the same goddamn story about how he used to ride horses growin’ up, like I give a shit-”

“-Eddie! He’s trying to be nice and talk to you, so you’re not-”

“-So I’m not miserable? Well, guess what, honey. I’m fuckin’ miserable!” His voice was so loud it shook the wooden cabinets of the kitchen, your tin snowmen rattling on top of the shelves. “I am fuckin’ miserable every Christmas! I would rather be here alone, shovelin’ shit all goddamn night and day than be there!”

The hitch in your breath rang loud and clear in Eddie’s ear, his own face crumpling this time, a shaky hand rubbing across his eyes to try and keep his composure. But how could he? How could he stop the ache in his chest when he remembered the way you looked at him? The way your eyes filled with tears, lip quivering in fear. You hadn’t cried, not in there, atleast. Instead, you waited until you got to the bedroom, pulling out your own little overnight bag and filling it silently.

He’d been so furious, so unfathomably filled with weeks of pent up rage, Eddie had to step out. Fury filled steps, a swinging fist to a post that left his knuckles bloody, splintering into the pale skin that was already blooming with bruises. Eddie really regretted it now, sure he’d broken a knuckle at the way it had swelled, doubled in size and kissed with dark purple, welt-like bruises. Oh, what he would do, what he would give, to have you fuss over it, patch it up and huff at him for doing something so immature.

You didn’t.

Instead, you stayed silent, save for the heart wrenching, hiccupy sniffle you gave when loading your bag into the trunk. Eddie’s body was still buzzing, electric with every ounce of bitter grief he’d tried to ignore.

“Where you goin’?” Eddie gritted, tone sharp, it left you shuddering at the unfamiliar sharpness directed at you.

“You want to shovel shit, since it’s so much better than being with my family.” Your breath stuttered in your chest when you took that breath. One that had Eddie’s heart lurching, nervous system flooding with a damning shock that left his head reeling in fear.

“Better than being with me.” The crack in your voice matched the crack in Eddie’s own heart, splitting it right down the middle.

“I don’t want to make you any more miserable than you already are.” You spat, and suddenly, Eddie longed for the sadness in your tone because the bitterness that replaced it was worse.

Your own boots crunched on the ground, bare with snow and ice, but frozen from the cold. “Have a Merry Christmas by yourself, Eddie.” A hard yank of your car handle, and you were gone.

Eddie watched you go in a horrified stare, your car disappearing down out of his sight in a red flash, feeling like he was watching a movie- a fucked up movie through his own eyes, but not in his own body.

Then he was alone.

Eddie was alone, standing on his family’s land, holding his throbbing hand alone. He was alone then. He was alone later that night, when he crawled into bed, teary eyes and shaking hands grabbing at your pillow, smothering himself with it because it smelled like you- terrified it might be the last time he could smell you. And he was alone now. Sitting in a too still kitchen, in a too quiet house, on Christmas Eve, alone.

The burning threat of tears choked him, bubbling out of his chest and crept up his throat. Through blurred vision, Eddie could see the time. A little past four. He wondered what you were doing, what your family was doing. If your dad had started a card game yet. The same Rummy game he always made sure to deal Eddie in to- always made sure to include him.

If your uncle was on his fourth or fifth glass of eggnog, spiking it with an extra pour of Woodford. He’d always offer Eddie some, slurring and spilling a little onto the festive tablecloth. Drunkenly tell him about his childhood, how he grew up riding horses, the same droning story that Eddie would always nod politely at. He was sloshed through the holidays, but never mean- always a jolly drunk, bellowing laughs through shining eyes. No smashing of plates or bruising grips like Eddie’s childhood Christmases always had.

Or if your mom had got a chance to breathe, pull herself out of the kitchen with your aunts. She’d always hug him so warmly when she’d greet the two of you at the door, fussing over taking your bags and jackets, so happy the two of you were there. She’d even embroidered a stocking for Eddie last year, surprised him with it proudly. He’d nearly cried.

It was a weird feeling. This feeling that he was becoming a part of your family. That they wanted him to be a part of it.

He only had Wayne left, the rest of his family was long gone. It filled him with a grimy, gross feeling how much he enjoyed his time with your family. The sickening thought that he was betraying his own, replacing them and filling in their spots with shiny, new replicas.

Wayne would laugh at him, tell him he should enjoy it, he better enjoy it. “You know Darlene and me go to Florida ev’ry Christmas, boy. You better stick it with ‘er. She’s a good’en.”

Wayne would be furious at him if he knew. Probably take him ‘round back for the way he spoke to you, about your family. Eddie wouldn’t blame him, he was furious at himself for it.

Eddie’s eyes found their way to the mantle, your stocking and his lined side by side. His was full, stuffed with small gifts and goodies you’d cheerily slip in, tongue clicking at him when he’d try to peek. Yours was deflated, sans for a small pair of cabin socks Eddie had got in early November.

The bile in his throat brought him back to his very cruel reality in front of him. He’d been mean to you- he acted like his dad.

Eddie’s stomach lurched, moving to the sink, a shaking hand pulling his hair back, retching into the sink at the revelation. Parallels of his mom and dad, his childhood, how his mom would decorate the house from top to bottom, make it nice and festive for Eddie. His dad would come in, tear it down, mock her for it in a drunken slur. She’d always buy him a gift, make sure Eddie’s stocking was filled with what she could: penny candies, knitted gloves, dented wacky packs from the discount store. Eddie would make her an ornament, his Mamaw Munson would get her a little gift, but never his dad. Her stocking was always empty.

A choked sob caught in Eddie’s throat, vomit spewing into the shiny surface under him. Clammy forehead pressed to the cool countertop, he took a deep, shaky sob to try and keep the cry in. The mangled sob that shook his core, rattled his lungs, burned all the way from his stomach to his nose.

Calloused hands wiped at his wet cheeks, chapped from the cold, giving a fierce sniffle. Eddie felt eight again, noticing for the first time the way his mother’s eyes dimmed, how she tried to hide it when she opened the empty stocking. She had been hopeful that there had been something in there, that this year his dad would remember her, be better. He never was.

Eddie couldn’t be him, he wouldn’t be. He’d already reflected him in every way, too much for his own comfort lately- screaming at you, that rage that tore through him, bloody knuckles and aching throat that was leaving you in tears.

As his shaking fingers turned the dial, cradling the phone to his ear, he hoped you would answer- that he could just get to you, talk to you. Your mother’s cheery voice rang over the phone instead, a happy roar of chatter mixed with music playing behind her voice.

“Oh, Ed?” Your mother’s voice sounded concerned, he could practically see her frown, one you inherited. “Are you feeling better, hon? We miss you. I’m sending your stocking and gifts home- well, not the stocking, I’ll keep that but what’s inside.”

You’d told them he was sick, covered for him- just like his mom used to do for his dad. The kindness in her tone nearly sent Eddie over the edge, pulling the receiver away to take a breath, to keep the sob from coming out.

“Ed?” Your mom tried again. “Are you there?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m sorry. I just… Is s-she around?” Eddie’s voice was tight with emotion, and he knew if he said your name, it would break whatever facade he’s mustered at the moment.

“Uh-huh, one second.” A staticy rustle filled the receiver, your name muffled and falling from your mom’s lips.

Eddie didn’t realize he was holding his breath, until he released it, a desperate sigh of relief when you took the phone. “Hello?”

“H-Hi, baby.” Eddie tried, hoping his voice was soft enough, gentler now- than the last time he talked to you.

“Hi.” You bit, through gritted teeth, dragging the chord of the phone into the hall with you. “What do you want? I’m with my family.”

His water line brimmed again, overflowing with angry tears. “Yeah, I know, honey. I’m sorry, I just,” Eddie took a deep breath, stuttering in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Your own lip wobbled, fresh with tears. You’d pulled into your parents drive the night before, eyes red rimmed from your cry, telling them something about the hay and your allergies. They’d believed you, pulled you in with a warm hug. It was nice, comforting at your home, surrounded by your family until you were asleep. A bed had never felt so cold.

“I don’t-” You grit, trying to keep your own emotions in. “This is why you called me?”

Eddie flinched at the venom in your own tone. “I am sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby, you don’t even kno-ow.” Eddie’s chest stuttered. “I didn’t mean any of that, I swear. I was- I’m just… I’m not doing great this year, baby.”

Your heart jumped at the shake in his tone, the rawness of his words. “You really hurt my feelings, Ed.” You admitted, your voice smaller. “I don’t- I don’t know why you don’t like my family. They love you-”

“-I don’t.” Eddie shook his head, fist balled around the phone. “I didn’t mean any of that. I love your family, I-I love you.”

“So, you said all of that, why?” You scoffed lowly.

Eddie’s knee bounced. He hadn’t expected you just to forgive him, but it was still hard- hard when you weren’t here, when you were away and hurt, and he was alone and miserable.

Miserable, the single word in the world he wished to never say or hear again.

“I…” Eddie’s hand threaded through his matted locks. “I don’t know. It’s weird. Not- no, no, no, not you or- fuck, that’s not what I meant.” Eddie rambled stupidly.

“I feel weird about being with your family on Christmas because…I like it.” Eddie’s vision was blurred, watery with tears. “It’s just different from what I grew up with, and… and I don’t know, sometimes it’s just, it’s overwhelming, baby.”

You stayed silent on the other end, the only sound signaling you were still on the line was the faint yells and mummers of your family, only making Eddie’s heart ache even more. “They’re all so nice, it-it makes me… I didn’t have that. My family didn’t have that, and-and every time I’m there it just makes me wish they did.”

The both of you fell into a silence, one that was becoming far too common. Eddie’s heart hammered behind his ribcage. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. This- nothing is your fault, you know that? This is on me. I shouldn’t have ever talked to you like that, said that shit. I’d beat the dog walking shit out of anyone who said that shit about you, and then I say it? That’s just-” Eddie let out a humorless, watery laugh, fist pressed to his forehead in an attempt to extinguish that fury burning through his chest again.

A cleansing breath later, Eddie’s head was in his hands. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, wobbly when he told you. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s… We can talk later, Eddie.” Your voice finally rang through, shaky and unsteady, clutching the phone like it was your life long. “Thank you for calling me. For telling me that.”

The silence settled again, both of you unsure, scared to make the next move.

“I, uh, I wish you were here.” You broke the silence this time. “My family keeps asking about you. They miss you, a lot.”

“I miss you.” Eddie sniveled, wiping his running nose with the back of his hand. “I mean, I miss them too, but I just… I miss you a lot.”

A pause, the slight clear of your throat. “I have to go.” You whispered, voice tight and Eddie knew you were close to tears. “I have to help my mom set the table, but… I’ll call you tonight.”

“I love you.” Eddie blurted, sacred he might forget to say it with how his head was swimming. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I know.” Your voice was soft. It made Eddie’s stomach lurch all over again.

The line droned in a steady beep after your receiver clicked. Eddie held the phone there, eyes shining dully with unshed tears in the lights of the strung decorations. A defeated slump in his shoulders. He didn’t feel any better, worse if anything.

Eddie was surrounded by a deafening silence, the house too quiet. Too quiet to be Christmas. Too quiet without you.

The soft glow from the barn pulled Eddie’s attention, the doors pulled to keep the heat in for the horses. He twisted the phone in his palms, turning it over in his hands gently before jabbing his fingers back into the dial.

The line rang once, twice, nearly a third before it was answered.

“Gare, hey, I’ve got a big ask…”

“Honey,” Your mom’s eyes squinted, yellow rubber gloves dunked into the soapy warm water in front of her. “I thought you said Ed wasn’t coming.”

You nearly dropped the plate you were drying, breath caught in your throat. “What?” You hissed, leaning to look out the small window over the sink. Sure enough, there in the dark, snow covered driveway was Eddie’s truck.

“I-I didn’t think he was.” You shook your head, setting the plate down gently. “He said he wasn’t feeling well. I’m just- I’ll be right back.” Slipping on your boots, not bothering to lace them, you stepped outside into the frigid cold of the night.

Eddie didn’t see you, back turned, grabbing armfulls of bags out of the back seat. “What are you doing here?”

He jumped, nearly dropping your aunt’s present, eyes wide when he turned. “Shit, I-I…” Eddie’s tongue tied, jumbled and thick in his mouth. He didn’t expect to see you, standing there, in your little Christmas sweater that had his heart swelling. He wanted to kiss you, coo at you for being so cute, get you all blushy and giggle at his compliments.

Your lifted brow, arms crossed over your chest protectively stopped him. “I wanted to give your family their gifts. I-I was just going to leave them on the porch and tell you when I called tonight.”

Your foot twisted into the snow, eyes cast downward. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did.” Eddie nodded firmly. “They’re not- It’s not great. The mall was closing early so I had to kinda rush, but, uh, I wanted to get them something.” He looked at you, eyes shining with emotion. “Wanted to get you something too.”

Your stocking was hooked onto his left pointer finger, a crooked bend of the knitted fabric, hanging heavy and filled with tiny trinkets and things that ruffled. You looked at it carefully, face quipping just barely, but Eddie caught it. “I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you.” Eddie muttered lowly, breath showing under the glow of the lights.

“Thank you.” You nodded, swallowing thickly around your words. “I can help you take them in.”

“No,” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t want to… I know you don’t want to be with me right now, baby, and I get it. I’ll just drop them off-”

“-Come inside.” You sighed, arms still tight around his chest. “My mom already saw you. It’s just easier for you to come in.”

Eddie tried to hide the hurt he felt with a simple nod. “I don’t want to ruin your Christmas.” He muttered softly. “More than I already have.”

“Eddie,” You sounded tired, words heavy with emotion, exhaustion maybe. “Come inside.” Your eyes lifted to his, so sweet, nearly pleading he was sure he might sob. “There’s still leftovers. I’ll heat them up for you.”

So Eddie followed you inside, gifts under his arms, letting your family greet him warmly, chocking his red eyes and matching nose up to the hay fever he’d been having. Your mom fixed him a plate, poured you both a glass of mulled wine.

In the tiny bed of your childhood room, the two of you talked in hushed voices, silent apologies traded over soft touches.

“I didn’t mean it.” Eddie whispered, nose pushing into your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” You nodded, and you did. Even if it still hurt, still wounded from the words, you knew that was true.

Eddie’s cheek pressed against your shoulder, hands grabbing at you, pulling you closer and closer like at any moment you might disappear from his clutches. “My mom,” His voice cracked, eyes pinching shut. “She used to love Christmas.”

“Really?” You hum, tone as even as it could be with the shock. Eddie never spoke about his mother.

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “She, uh, she used to decorate every Thanksgiving. Pull out the tree after dinner, put it up. My dad,” Eddie swallowed around the bitter title. “He was always passed out by then, so she could do it pretty quickly. Get it up and ready before he’d wake up and bitch. It wasn’t a lot, a tree and some other stuff, but I’d always help her. She-She always let me put the angel on top.”

You weren’t sure what to say, what you were supposed to say. Eddie’s mom was a sensitive spot. One he didn’t talk about much, at all, really.

“She would really like your family.” Eddie’s voice was small, a rarity. Always the loud, rough and tough cowboy, commanding wild bucks all day. Small wasn’t in his vocabulary.

“They would have really liked her.” You said slowly, vibrations from your voice tickling Eddie’s ear.

Eddie knew it was true. He felt stupid, really, waves of horrible guilt crashing over him again as he clung tighter to you. Your family wasn’t the enemy, wasn’t one to try and replace his own family, just an extension.

He meant what he said, that his Mama would like your family. He already knew she’d love you, simply because he did. He hoped it was true, that your family would’ve loved her. He knew deep down they would have, that they would welcome her with the same warmth that they gave him.

That they’d always make sure her stocking was full on Christmas morning, because they always made sure his was.

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hotluncheddie · 2 years ago

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high masking autistic steve harrington follow on from this post

ao3

wc: 2.6k | rated: T | cw: description of a meltdown with semi aggressive stimms | tags: autistic steve harrington (and eddie and robin but this is about stevie), hurt/comfort, stobin soulmates, steddie, steve Harrington has shitty parents

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

he failed. he graduated. but he failed. those unsaid words between him and his parents. some get said. the bad ones, about him, they get said. over again like he’s 5 and being told is behaviour isn’t acceptable. that how he is isn’t right. ‘shape up or ship out’, basically. steve knows he can’t go anywhere new, not right now. only freshly recovered, physically at least. mentally; he’s still unacceptable.

when steve works at scoops. it’s so fucking bright in there. so fucking bright, all day and he can’t focus and talking to people gets so much harder. it’s not like school where he can zone out in class and turn it on during lunch, in between, keep up his face with the people around him and sink back into his head during chemistry. no. now it’s all the time, customer after customer. that he has to talk to, put on a smile for, read so he gives them what they want and they leave happy. it’s exhausting. girls don’t like him anymore, they don’t react to him the same way. he doesn’t think he likes them much either though because they’re so much more annoying when it’s so fucking bright.

but robin (robin who cycles to work with sunglasses on and doesn’t take them off till she has too) she turns the lights down during open and close. so those couple hours, it’s not so bad. not so stressful. a little bit less loud.

after the mall burns down steve starts letting her in. tries too. she makes it obvious enough to him that she wants him there. she asks him to stay and calls him at night and he just wants to be enough for her. eventually he’d swallowed his pride and bolstered his courage and called her after a string of nightmares. asking her to stay the night. but then she was there, and it was like everything was thrown off. she was grating on his already freyed nerves but he didn’t know what to say. how to fix it without upsetting her.

but that night, a mirror of the mall bathroom played out in steves en-suite. steve had freaked. hidden. but she didn’t leave. and he tried to explain.

he needs her but he doesn’t know how to have her as a true friend. ‘i dunno how to talk to a girl if i don’t wanna date them. i uh, maybe, don’t really know how to talk to someone as myself. as a friend. sorry.’

‘well i don’t know how to talk to jocks so. same boat.’ and she has this glint in her eye. like she knows. and it’s okay.

because robin, she made it simple. she makes it easy. she says just ask and she’ll be honest and give him a yes or no. she’ll say if she can’t be touched right now, or if the movie he chose is pissing her the fuck off. and she wants the same from him. if the music is too loud, if she needs to let him not speak for a while. wants him honest and present and real. real friends. someone close. finally.

it’s rocky at first. she’s honest and he’s not used to it. it feel like criticism more often than not. makes him see red and lash out, like he was never able to with his parents. but he apologises and she stays. and he’s learning; that’s it’s okay, he’s not perfect and that means she’s knowing the real him. and she’s still his best friend even if he has to tell her to stop picking her nail polish off around him because it makes him want to die. and she laughs at him the first time she sees him in real recovery mode; hair not styled and he has on the only sweatshirt that ever feels good when he’s like this.

they lay on the floor in darkness and silence. it’s perfect. they share a tin of soup and a grilled cheese. it’s perfect.

being around robin as much as he is, its so new, having someone see so many parts of you. sometimes she laughs at him asking steve ‘why’d your voice change?’ but steve didn’t even know it had. he was, he was just talking to someone else quick, being nice like you’re supposed to, attentive to make them feel good. he didn’t know his voice changed that much.

‘girls would like you more if you talked normal to them. how you do to me.’

steve swallowed thickly. he just. he just doesn’t know that thats true. nancy left, he talked to her about lots of things, too many things. she like him better at the start. before some of his black tar innards spilled out. before he freaked. before he was able to paste himself back together and she saw him for what he really is.

he thinks of his parents. how they don’t know him and still don’t like him. anxiety prickles at his fingertips at the thought of those times they do come home.

because with them there the routine he’s carved for himself, those quiet moments of darkness that he so craves. they’re gone. now it’s tv static and plates clanging and having to show his face at dinner again. but he’s not ten anymore. now he’s an adult whose still drowning in the tension of the room, never able to say what’s really going on, never allowed to ask how they really feel, never taught how to figure his feeling out. no listening ear for steve as a child, and the ice only grew thicker with time.

it’s his skin itching at his mother stirring her tea across the house, spoon agains porcelain. it’s the hair on the back of his neck standing up at the sound of ice clinking in his fathers scotch glass. it’s triggered memories playing over and over again. it’s being plagued, by ghosts who haunt him, who left but come back every so often, like poltergeists. polietgists with the deed to the house, and ownership over steve, through blood and fear alone.

‘when they get back you come to mine steve yeah? you come home.’

because now theres not just robin. there’s eddie.

he sees everything. and more. even when steve’s trying to hide. eddie sees.

he noticed steve squinting at the hospital and asked the nurse to turn the lights down. he saw how he started zoning out at a diner with the kids, their arguing reaching a pitch, asked steve to keep him company for a smoke break. once they were outside eddie said he just needed a moment, ‘those kids can be animals’. said it and looked a him like he didn’t need an answer, let steve just breathe a focus on the sound of the wind.

it’s like there’s a million tiny moments, a million tiny cracks in him forming the more he’s around eddie. like his soft underbelly is mewling any time he’s around, wanting attention, wanting to let eddie see. let eddie touch.

eddie used to look at him sometimes, across the lunch hall. stare at him with an expression steve couldn’t really make sense of. he used to think it was judgment, annoyance. now he wonders if that face was confusion or interest. maybe eddie’s always been trying to figure steve out.

once it starts. them. eddie’s everywhere. more somehow, maybe, than robin because, you know, they go there. but it’s different, from those time, with those girls. instead now he’s there and his brains off and on in a, like, magical way. a new way that makes him feel whole and, and beautiful.

this thing they have. it’s fragile. it’s not perfect. he messes up, takes him a moment to grasp how eddie can be so so himself, always, no matter what. especially when it causes him problems. ‘why not just try and fit in?’ but the stone faced reply told steve that was the wrong thing to say, he didn’t get it but he needed to respect it. respect eddie and his choices. ‘i’m not like you steve, even if my brain shit was all gone i’d still be poor, i’d still be othered. still be a gay weirdo little freak.’

and steve is trying to get it. he’s learning to recognise that it’s sadness and confusion in eddie’s eyes when he visits him at work, knowing steve is having a bad day and watching him pretend. watching that mask form thick and fast, hiding the real him, protecting but also keeping everyone far far away. steve thinks maybe they’re living parallels. finding different ways to survive. neither better, neither worse. both far from perfect.

then that pinched sadness in eddie’s eyes. watching steve pretend. cover up. that damn breaks eventually. eddie sees all of him and more. those bits he always kept locked inside. between he and himself. it all comes spilling out.

they were supposed to be going out soon. but eddie wasn’t feeling it anymore ‘let’s just stay here, be cozy a little longer. what do you say, sweetheart?’ it does sound nice. steves so tired. but they decided. they had a plan.

‘we said we would. and i have to buy that thing eddie. we had a plan. and i have to go to work later, so we have to do it before. like we said and then i have to work eddie.’ and before he knows it there’s tears prickling his eyes and the ceiling fan is so loud and the desk lamp is too bright and he smacks a fist to the top of his head and it hurts a little but he’s so frustrated and so overwhelmed and so confused and embarrassed, suddenly. and he can’t breath. why can’t he breath? they had a plan.

they were supposed to go see hopper and pick something up and he has to talk to him and ask about the game because he needs hopper to like him because it’s better when el can come when all the kids hangout. it’s important that she’s happy so hopper needs to trust steve so steve was going to talk to him today and pick something up. it was the plan. hopper makes him nervous but that was the plan. and then he had to go to work. but now he can’t breathe and he feels like he needs something to hurt.

‘but he already trusts you with el stevie. hop trusts you with anything.’

‘i can’t know that. not for sure. when i talk to him it needs to be perfect.’ steve paces. a pinch at his arm. a tug at his hair. pivot. pace. repeat.

‘i heard what he said to you steve, on your birthday, he was calling you son all day. you don’t need to prove anything to him.’

‘i do eddie! you don’t understand. people, they lie. adults lie. they don’t say things the way they mean. i can’t fuck up talking to him. not like i always fuck up talking to my parents. i need to do it better. do it differently. because everyone always leaves. and i just don’t want to be alone again.’ and the tears really start to fall and steve can barely breath and he’s so embarrassed. shaking hands try and cover his face but the tears slip through.

and all he can think about is the plan. going to work. his vest hanging by the door. the way the plastic tapes feel in his hands. the smell of the bleach they mop the back room with. the day stretches before him. so many things in the way. so much anxiety still to come. if he can’t start, it can’t end. he gnaws at his lip. thumps a hand to his chest, trying to breath right, trying to ground.

‘i have to go to work’ he mutters. like a prayer. speak it in to happening. taking him away from the now. thump thump thump at his chest. ear ringing.

eddie’s holding his arms out, giving steve the option. he speaks so calmly, so earnest. ‘you can’t go to work steve. not like this baby.’

steve rounds on him. angry. when did everything get so messed up? if he was just left alone. he should’ve stayed on his own. ‘i cant just call in sick eddie! i’m not sick and and i hate the way they’ll sound when i say it over the phone and knowing what they’ll be thinking about me. they’ll know i hate the job and think i’m lazy and realise how stupid and useless i am and fire me. i can’t afford to get fired eddie. i’d rather just go in.’ he know it comes out garbled, his cheeks on fire.

‘i’m not letting you go in steve. i’ll sort it. i’ll go pick up robin before and she’ll cover for you, she’ll explain. and she would never. ever think that of you.’ eddie’s voice dropped octave. he speaks clearly and plainly and finally there’s a new plan to follow. a new rule for the day.

and all steve can do is curl up in a ball and sob. curl up in a ball against eddie chest, in his arms, squeezing his t-shirt between his fingers. clenching his muscles tight, his teeth grinding together. grunting out some of the decade old scream, still stuck there but more visible to him now.

until finally finally, he relaxes. spent and exhausted. too afraid to open his eyes and face the lamplight, face what could be in eddie’s expression. he drifts..

eventually he gets up, blows his nose and splashed water on his face, turns off all the lights and get back under the warm blanket. fills his lungs. sighs. whispers, ‘m’sorry’

‘don’t say that. there’s nothing to apologise for’ eddie’s so close, so warm.

‘no one’s supposed to ever, see that.. it’s okay if you want to leave’

‘steve. why the fuck would i leave you right now?’

‘who’d wanna date someone who acts like that? it’s. it’s not good eddie. but, but it’s okay. i’m used to being alo-.’

‘please stop stevie. your breaking my heart here. i want to stay, i want to be here with you. i really really like you steve.’ and steve’s cheeks feel wet again. he feels flayed open and young, like a little kid who fell off the swings and everything is different suddenly.

later later when eddie picks robin up from work she stalks in to where steve’s wrapped up on the couch. curls up into his side and exhales. she bites into his bicep. huffing a sad, annoyed little ‘dingus’ before grabbing his hand and fiddling with his fingers.

steve feels his eyes prickle again. looking up at the ceiling he croaks out a small ‘sorry.’ for the day. for everything. for anything he can be. and everything he can’t.

robin kneels on the sofa right next to him. growling a little and placing one of her hands at his sternum and the other at the same height on his back. like she’s forcing herself inside him, holding him together. her hands start to rub up and down quickly, frenzied and grounding for both of them. steve let’s his head hang. eyes closing at the sensation. he grunts. robin grunts back.

eddie joins. sitting at his other side. slipping a hand in steve’s hair, soothing his scalp with long scratching fingers. and steve humms, sighs, keens. eyes closed he drifts but not away from his body, instead into it. with gratitude, and warmth. at the centre of the two best things that ever happened to him. willing to try again. be just, better. never perfect.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

pt 3 snippet

a little happier for u @pearynice <3

ty @spectrum-spectre @vampyreddiemunson @fangirlycupcake @grandwretch for ur tags and additions, it was very inspiring

and tags for lovely @irethsune @willim-billiam-byerson @2jug2head

#hope this is okay #i know the comfort isn't like loads but #unmasking is fucking hard #and hes simply doing his best #autistic steve harrington #steddie #platonic stobin #hotlunch #my fic #steve harrington needs a hug #but he gets one so its okay #feel nervous about posting this but let’s fucking go my dudes #pls let me know if u like it 👉👈

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softshuji · 1 year ago

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𝟏𝟏:𝟓𝟗𝐏𝐌 | 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐑𝐀𝐍

Title: I love you as the day loves the night

Summary: Ran knows he is not a good man, but he's trying to be better for you. You don't argue often, but when you do, Ran confides in the only person who might understand him.

cw: fem!reader, mentions of sex, alcohol usage, Ran is a little sad, Rindou being a good brother, some vague suggestive parts, explicit pregnancy mentions, nothing too serious. Reblogs appreciated!

Ran downs another shot and winces at the burn as the alcohol coats his throat. From here, he can just about make out the thrum and trill of music in the club underneath him, and it seems the beat is pulsing in time with his racing heart.

Packed bodies, heads thrown back in laughter, tables coated in white, the floor sticky with the residue of drinks spilled and then hastily mopped up and underneath it all, the vinegary tang of sweat and sex.

Considering the time of night, he isn’t surprised to see Sanzu talking in low tones with Mikey on the other side of the private bar, his head dipping, pink hair framing his face.

The scene makes him nauseous, and it takes ample self control not to vomit the contents of his stomach all over the mahogany table.

He rubs his temples, inhales the hot and heavy air and closes his eyes, throwing his head back to the artificial lights. The red glare dances on his skin and he shudders as the urge to throw up tickles the back of his throat for a second time. The tension under his knuckles is a spark of electricity when he grips the table for support.

‘Ran?’

A voice pulls him from the darkness, and he rocks forward in his chair, groaning against the anxiety that threatens to climb its way out of his chest as his eyes crack open, squinting at the harsh flare of the lights.

‘Rindou.’ He chews on his lip and makes to pick up his glass again, the condensation wet against his clammy hands. He grips it hard to force down the shaking that snakes along his knuckles. ‘You’re here.’

‘This better be good Ran,’ Rindou says and pulls out a chair opposite, propping his chin up on his palm as he takes in the sight. His Brother’s tired eyes, shadows clinging to the skin underneath, the pinched brows that give him a permanent frown, the matted hair that sticks to his forehead, curling at the nape and around his ears, the sweat that rolls down his temple despite the air conditioning.

‘Thanks for coming,’ Ran says solemnly, his head hung low, eyes downcast.

Rindou narrows his eyes and reaches into his jacket, fishing around till he feels the sharp metallic edge of his cigarette tin, frowning when Ran’s hands shake as he leans forward to accept the offered cigarette.

‘So what’s this about then?’ Rindou moves the glass from Ran’s reach absent-mindedly, noting the way his Brother’s lips purse as he takes a long drag, holding the smoke in till it burns.

The smoke curls from his mouth, grey against the light. ‘Had a fight with My Girl. A bad one.’ This last part is a barely imperceptible whisper, and Rindou leans in, tucking his hair behind his ears as he strains to listen.

Ah, Rindou thinks, his lips a firm line. He scoots his chair closer around the table till the thump of music gyrates his ears less and gestures with an incline of his head towards the bartender for a drink. Under this light, the shadows under Ran’s eyes and the creases in his otherwise immaculate suit are all the more prominent. As is the shaky exhale when Ran puffs his cigarette.

He knows the wedding band on Ran’s finger is still new, that Ran hasn’t fully adjusted to married life and domestic bliss is a concept he’s not well acquainted with, that it had taken Ran a very long time to persuade himself that he was capable of marriage in the first place.

‘What about? Can’t be that bad.’ Rindou watches as the bartender sets down a jug of iced water and two glasses, backing up when Rindou shoots him a look, bowing profusely.

He fills a glass, all but thrusting it into his Brother’s hands and Ran doesn’t know if he should be grateful for the action when his hands itch for something dark and strong, and the pounding in his head tells him it can only be lulled by more alcohol.

‘It was bad Rin, don’t think we’ve ever fought like that before.’

It was new and it was ugly and the feelings are still fresh this many hours later as Ran drowns his anxieties for the umpteenth time tonight.

It’s not as if the two of you hadn’t fought before. At the beginning, your relationship was fraught with hushed arguments, vitriolic whispers that caught in your throat, words said without meaning, anger and bitterness and negligence thrown back and forth, a sharp word here and there that turned into something else entirely. Sometimes, not very often, he would say something that cut you, a clean slice through the tendon of your heart, and you’d wonder at what manner of love you had for him that had you constantly crawling back, sniffling down the line as you both whispered your apologies to each other.

It always ended in love, with you against his chest, your feelings for him, that of tenderness, the need to protect him renewed when he kissed you again and again and again, fervently, desperately, his lips latched onto your neck as you hoisted your legs around his waist.

‘So?’ Rindou fills his own glass and gestures with a hand, tilting his head as Ran curls around his glass of water, an injured animal hunched and hurt, his back and shoulders heavy with an invisible burden.

‘I cancelled our date,’ he starts and his eyes flick to the ceiling. The elaborate and ornate decor seems a mockery right now, and he can practically feel the desperation leaking from his skin. ‘You know how Mikey’s been on my ass lately,’ he says and his eyes move to his boss seated in a booth with his eyes closed, hair fanning the bridge of his nose.

The spark of his anger had started small, a flickering flame. You’d huffed and his ears had prickled at the sound and he’d raised his eyebrows as you crossed your arms, glaring at him as he shrugged on his jacket.

And the minute the complaint had left your lips Ran’s hackles had risen and the flare of his temper had sparked to life and you had cried, left sopping wet stains on the corner of your sleeve as you threw the insults back and forth. What hurt more, you couldn’t tell- the complaint itself or the fact that your complaints had been met by the domineering force of his viciousness, the wall that had slammed down on your voice when he glared, his lavender eyes swirling with rage. Rage at you.

You’d learned somewhat, to accept that part of him. The larger than life part, the fullness of him, as if he swallowed the light in every room, the ruthlessness that came with that, the cutting edge of his words when they bit into you. But this was different and as he’d towered above you, dragging a hand down his face, you knew it was the smallest he had ever made you feel.

‘Okay and then what?’ Rindou refills the glass and pushes it towards his Brother.

‘She told me she never got to see me, that she was always fighting to have my attention, that she missed me.’ Ran has never felt so humiliated, and the self loathing wraps its hands around his throat, and the guilt and shame is thick in the blood that floods his ears and head.

Rindou winces and sucks in a breath, the crease in his forehead growing larger as Ran takes another long drag of the quickly burning cigarette.

‘So what did you do?

‘I yelled at her, told her I had enough, that she was selfish, that she was being a spoiled brat when I was working hard for our future.’ Ran feels small as he says this, judged, even though he knows the opposite is true and even now, replaying his words out loud, he knows how harsh and critical they sound and Rindou only drives the point home unintentionally as his lips part and jaw drops open.

‘In those exact words?’

‘Yeah…Yeah in those exact words.’

‘And then you walked out?’

‘Yeah…’ A whisper against the glass, his hands still shaky, slipping on condensation.

Rindou purses his lips and pauses momentarily. ‘That was bad nii-chan,’ he says, the childish nickname slipping past his lips with ease. ‘Y’know she hates that stuff the most. It must have hurt her.’

Something in him softens watching Ran’s head tip towards his chest, the sad droop of his eyes, the singular strands of hair out of place around his ears, curling towards his forehead. He knows Ran can be brash and iron-handed and sometimes even cruel.

But he also knows that Ran loves you, and it’s a simple fact in itself. He knows he loves you as the day loves the night and the sun loves the moon enough to share its light. An indisputable unchangeable fact.

‘I know, I’m an idiot.’ Ran lifts his head, setting the glass down and dragging a hand forlornly across his face. He sniffles, and maybe it's the alcohol coursing through his blood, so much of it that his brain is fuzzy and swimming in his head, or maybe it’s the thoughts of you, your broken sob that died when he slammed the door, the hunched figure alone and left staring at the paint as he drove off to drown his sorrows, but he thinks he’s never felt this wretched or consumed by bitterness at himself for damaging something so precious.

‘Yeah no shit Ran, you messed up big time,’ Rindou says. A fact, not a criticism. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well you’re going home to talk to her right?

Ran’s lips curve into an ‘o’ and he blinks owlishly, his vision hazy. ‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea.’ Even as he says it, he knows how cowardly that sounds. That he continues to run from confrontation, from difficult arguments and sullen silences, from the clenched jaws and the eyes misty with tears, that it’s a consequence of constantly treading on eggshells in the life he’s chosen, a life of constantly running.

‘You don’t know if that’s a- are you listening to yourself?’ Rindou is incredulous, his glass suspended in the air as he shakes his head. ‘So what, you’re going to sit here all night?’ He scoffs and blows the wisps of hair kissing his eyebrows from his face.

Ran’s head snaps up, his eyes a harsh deep violent and flaring with anger. ‘So what do I do then?’

‘Go and talk to her, obviously!

It’s Ran’s turn to scoff bitterly, despite the fact that he knows Rindou’s right, that running from this conversation only serves to cut through both of you and prolong the pain. ‘I can’t.’ It’s the most shameful thing he’s ever said, the most pathetic.

Rindou only softens in response and while he could berate him and drive home the point of how clueless he thinks he is, he knows this isn’t the time, that Ran needs both his honesty and his brotherhood, the lifeline that connects them.

‘Nii-chan…’ Rindou swallows and takes a breath, hot and heavy in this cloistered atmosphere. ‘If you’re not going to listen to her or give her what she deserves, then leave her, because she deserves someone who will.’

It isn’t laced with hatred, bitterness, jealousy or resentment, and the softness, the low cadence of his Brother’s voice only tells Ran that he is being given a rare truth, that Rindou wouldn’t say it if he didn’t care. As pathetic as he feels, with anger and tension and cynicism rolling in waves under his skin, he understands the gravity of what he is being given, the weight of what the consequences are.

The thought itself however, is practically inconceivable. It’s another irrefutable fact that you have made him the man he is, at least to him. You have chased away the days spent tossing in a cold bed, sheets wrinkled as he turned in his sleep, nightmares hooking claws into his back. You tore down those walls he had so painstakingly built as a nest around himself, believing he could never be hurt if he never loved.

Ran closes his eyes and his clenched jaw is a knife simmering on the precipice.

‘And if she doesn’t want to listen?’

Rindou shrugs. ‘Then listen to her instead,’ he says, as if it’s the simplest concept. ‘And don’t get angry if she tells you things you don’t want to hear.’ She only does it because she loves you, he adds as a mental afterthought, a fact that he knows from experience and one he took too long to come to terms with.

Ran nods, his eyes fixed on a speck on the mahogany table and Rindou only hopes his words aren’t floating into the ether, that Ran’s addled state still allows him to grasp the gravity of them.

‘I’ll try.’ The words come out broken and cracked, his voice hitching as the breath forms a lump in his throat.

Rindou pats his Brother on the back. ‘Relationships are all about communication but it stands for nothing if there’s no comprehension involved too,’ he says. ‘It’s all well and good saying you want to talk to each other but are the both of you willing to listen? That’s what matters.’

A strange sense of pride tickles Ran’s chest as Rindou speaks. Pride in his Brother, in the way he raised him, in the way Rindou snatched a life worth living in a lifestyle that was less so and refused to allow it to break his spirit completely. Ran makes fun of him yeah sure, for the fact that Rindou is so homely and soft, tender and caring and embarrassed to hear it, but he’s also proud beyond belief, that Rindou had found something he loved so completely, or someone rather. Something that was so directly in contrast to the vicious and violent Brother he knew, raised and watched crack bones on a daily basis.

Underneath that pride comes the tendrils of love for you, the shame at having walked out on you when you had tried to talk to him, the renewed hope that perhaps he can fix his own mistake.

For the first time that night, Ran allows himself to roll the tension from his shoulder, his neck prickling as the coil of anxiety dissipates a little through the soles of his feet. He downs a full glass of ice water, the sharp sting a welcome sensation against the murkiness of his head. He winces as the cold rushes down his chest, cools the pulse of anxiety simmering in his belly.

‘How come you’re so good at this relationship stuff?’

Rindou chuckles and the faint warmth kissing his cheeks tickles the base of his neck as he hangs his head ‘It’s just experience. I had to work through this too, remember?’

Ran can’t help but smirk knowingly as the heat prickling his skin begins to ebb, leaving behind a strange tranquillity and it’s the calmest he’s felt all night since he slammed the front door. He knows he has a lot to make up for, that you’ve every right not to take him back, but he hopes the vigour of his efforts when he returns home will be enough to assuage the anger you no doubt have for him.

‘How is she?’ Ran asks, if only just to see the wistfulness in his Brother’s gaze, the glaze of his eyes when he stares at the glass in front of him, trying and failing to pull back the smile.

Rindou’s lips curve into a grin and the tint on his cheeks only grows tenfold. ‘She’s good. You and your girl should come when you get time.’

‘And the baby?’

‘Also great. Still a little soon to be buying baby things though.’

Rindou smiles sheepishly, his leg bouncing with excitement and Ran basks in the wonderment of Rindou’s happiness, returning the easy smiles, his heart settling back in his chest. Perhaps it’s because they’re older now, no longer so naive and arrogant and flighty, consumed by distaste for the world around them, but they no longer find themselves retorting with quips wrapped in jealousy, with anger or bitterness. Things are easy between them and when they glance at each other in that unspoken way that siblings often do, it is always with love and brotherhood, memories of running through alleyways laughing as the rain comes down in droves.

As Rindou babbles about his wife and the baby soon to come, Ran’s mind drifts. He thinks of you, of your belly swelling with his child, of your quick smiles, the lazy Sunday mornings under the covers, him tracing patterns on the sliver of skin under your collarbones, his thumb brushing over the hollow in your throat. He thinks of all he stands to lose if he can’t fix his own mistakes.

Haitani Ran knows he is not a good person, he doesn’t expect to be called one. He knows he has the ability to be callous, pretentious, even downright selfish and he knows that the less than savoury aspects of who he is flare to the surface at the worst of times, that he bites at you, makes you cry. Domineering and cruel and unrelenting.

But he also knows another indisputable fact. That he loves you, that he’d walk barefoot in the desert, the hot sand licking at his heels just for a glimpse of you in a mirage, that he, the unredeemable, is redeemed by the two people who love him the most despite his severity.

And you, you love him too. You know you’ve forgiven him already, that the sharp and jagged edges of his cutting words have softened now and all you want is to bury your head on the smooth planes of his chest, your hand on his stomach as it flexes underneath you. You wonder if you can keep going like that, arguing and making up, the constant back and forth, torn between love and anger. For him, you would bear it all, the full force of his will.

‘Ran?’ Rindou’s voice tears him from his thoughts and he shakes his head as the alcohol begins to loosen its grip on him.

‘Hm? Sorry, what did you say?’

‘I said, shall we go? I’ll drive you home.’ Rindou is already shrugging his jacket back on, leaning back to down the rest of his ice water. He looks at Ran expectantly, his clear violet eyes flashing under the sickly artificial lights.

‘Yeah…yeah let’s go.’ Ran stands and as he slips into Rindou’s car, he thinks again of your hair against his chin, your lips on his, needy and tender all at once, the way your teeth graze against his tattoo and his stomach jumps with the sensation it sends across his skin. He thinks of his hand tilting your chin up, kissing the sharp point of your lips, your pout that only makes him laugh fondly.

And as Rindou drives, he finds for the first time tonight that he is less scared and anxious about returning home, that instead he can only count the seconds till he can press his mouth to your neck, hear your giggle as you swat at him.

You are his, and he is yours, and that is the way he likes it.

a/n: happy birthday to my darling <3

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @sweet-seishu @burnishedcrown @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @mitsuwuyaa @haruwuchiyoo @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013 @wotakuhime @severellamahottub @anxious-chick

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #haitani ran #ran x reader #tokyorev x reader #ran haitani

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piano-hoarder · 1 month ago

Text

Mirror | Chapter 2

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Things still spiral, but you help him anyway. Things go horribly during your next mission.

TW: Anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD, trauma, combat, guns

Word Count: 3.3K

Chapter 2 - First Switch

Classic rock blared from the corner of the lab, along with spraying sparks from Tony’s welding. Peter’s foot tapped on the floor in a comforting rhythm, matching the beats as he worked.

I glanced at him. “Tweezers?”

Peter shot a web without looking, pulling the tweezers to himself, then tossed them to me. I caught them.

“Thanks.” I hunched back over my circuit board, then cursed. My hand wouldn’t stop shaking.

“You good?” Peter asked.

“I’m fine. Just— my stupid hand won’t hold still.” I held my wrist in place with the other hand. It helped some, but the circuits were too small to focus on. I tossed the tweezers to the table in frustration, then sat back in my chair and rubbed my eyes. “And my eyes won’t focus because of this dumb headache…”

Peter’s eyes tracked my movements. I felt his gaze and opened my eyes, giving him a look. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He glanced back down to his work. “I don’t… know what you’re talking about.” When I didn’t answer, he continued, “Is Mr. Stark still keeping you out of the lab at night?”

I nodded morosely, slouching over the table with my head in my hands. “And it’s the only way I can fall asleep. Fewer nightmares that way,” I mumbled.

“You could take a project to your room. I’m sure Mr. Stark wouldn’t care.”

I shook my head immediately. “I can’t… I can’t combine them. My room is where…where things go wrong.” That was half the problem. If I could just keep the nightmares in my room, then never sleep there…

“When was the last time you slept, y/n?” He looked genuinely concerned.

“I—” I cut off when I saw his eyes flick to the lab entrance.

“What’s he doing here?” Peter asked, standing.

I turned. Oh heavens. My throat clenched painfully. It’s him again. I was on my feet before I registered the motion.

Why was he here? He wasn’t supposed to come here—I was supposed to be safe here—safe from him—if I can’t even have this—

“Hey.” Peter touched my arm. I jumped a little. “Let’s just see what he wants, okay?”

I nodded, swallowing. Peter was right. And I wouldn’t be alone this time. Safety in numbers.

Bucky approached us hesitantly. He looked frustrated. His arm—left arm, vibranium arm, not safe—don’t look—have to look—stay away— His left arm hung by his side strangely.

“Hey, Mr. Barnes,” Peter said, a little hesitantly. He was never terribly comfortable around the Soldier. But he was better than I was. I was grateful he took the lead. “Are you looking for something?”

Bucky glanced over to me, eyes lingering for a moment before going back to Peter. “Is Stark here?”

Peter nodded, turning to call toward Tony’s corner of the lab. “Hey, Mr. Stark! Someone’s here for you.”

The music cut off, and Tony lifted his welding mask, peering at us. “What’s up?”

Peter gestured toward Bucky, who watched Stark warily.

Tony grinned, pulling off the mask and gloves. “Hey—the Terminator’s here.” He sauntered over. “To what do I owe this—fabulous honor—Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky frowned a little. I wondered briefly if it was because of the Terminator reference. Then I remembered Siberia, and Zemo. Perhaps Bucky thought Tony still hadn’t forgiven him. I didn’t blame him.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. “Got a problem with my arm.”

Tony’s eyes lit up. “Loose screw in the tin can? Let’s give it a look.” He waved Bucky over to his mess of a work station. Bucky followed, but not before glancing at me. His face was unreadable. Why does he look at me that way?

Peter followed, looking excited. I watched, headache growing worse as my heart rate increased, pounding in my ears. I tapped my fingers against my thigh, watching as Tony pulled up a new holodisplay and used DUM-E to start scanning Bucky’s arm.

I began to wonder. A horrid intrigue swelled in my chest. His new arm… it wasn’t the same. Better designed, most likely. How different was it from the one I remembered? My eyes tracked its movements, even from here. More fluid. Sleeker. Probably lighter, with better wiring. When had I stepped closer? I watched the holodisplay, which now showed a wireframe of Bucky’s arm. Would have been nice to use one of those. Before, it had been a tangle of wires that I’d hated always needing to—

My eyes met Bucky’s, and I snapped back to the present, feeling ill. How much does he remember? I suddenly realized that he looked terrified. His right hand was clenched tightly, knuckles white. He seemed ready to bolt. I glanced toward Tony and Peter. They were both absorbed in the scan, talking excitedly together. Neither of them noticed.

My eyes darted across Bucky’s face. The Soldier’s face. Asset. Experiment. My finger found the scar on my thumb. I steeled my resolve. “Hey, Stark?”

Tony cut off, looking toward me.

“Maybe… you could hurry with the fixing?” I said, my voice stupidly shaky. “You have the scan, study it later.”

Tony glanced at Bucky, and I knew that he understood. He nodded. “ ‘Course. Just a minor stick; you’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky tensed. “Don’t— don’t call me that. Please.” His voice was tight, quiet.

Tony met his gaze. A memory flashed across my mind. Tony, face bloodied. His Iron Man suit is riddled with scars, arc reactor cracked and flickering. Snow falls behind him.

“Right. Barnes.” He glanced down at Bucky’s arm. “You good if I—" He gestured. “’Cause I gotta touch you if I’m gonna fix you.”

Bucky gave a tight nod. Tony quickly got to work, fingers moving deftly as he began to fix Bucky’s arm.

Bucky met my eyes again, desperate gratitude written across his face. I looked away, eyes darting uncomfortably.

Soon, Tony was finished, and Bucky stepped away from the table, a breath escaping him. He looked down at his vibranium arm, bending it experimentally, testing. He glanced at Stark, hesitating. “…Thanks.”

Stark gave a lazy, two-fingered salute. “Anytime, Sarge.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t say anything more. He gave me one last fleeting look before all but running from the lab.

I watched him go, then numbly walked back to my work table. Peter stayed with Tony to examine the scan of Bucky’s arm. The rock music started up again.

Why… why had I done that? I picked up my circuits, but I wasn’t really seeing them. I thought of his eyes, flashing with fear.

I’d never say it out loud, but it was like looking in a mirror.

——

I tapped my fingers on the table, but I was only half-listening. I was supposed to be listening to Steve’s mission briefing, but I had to watch Bucky. Even with Nat, Sam, and Tony in the room, Bucky’s presence still made my skin crawl. My fingers typed out imaginary code as a distraction. The other hand idly rubbed at my scar.

“Our target is a former HYDRA operative. His purpose is unknown, but we believe he’s been trying to reform HYDRA underground.”

A customary mission, the kind I’d grown familiar with over the last two years. Tracking down every last one of HYDRA’s members. Many had gone into hiding after the 2016 info dump, and HYDRA had had arms everywhere. I wondered if we’d ever catch all of them. How many small coalitions like this had formed, trying to refound the organization? We’d killed the body, but its heads were still alive.

“The building is in an abandoned complex, and we don’t know how structurally sound they will be. It will be important to…” Needing both hands, I switched to tapping my thighs.

try :

while True:

GPIO.output(LED_PIN, GPIO.HIGH) # Turn LED on

time.sleep(1)

GPIO.output(LED_PIN, GPIO.LOW) # Turn LED off

time.sleep(1)

“…located in the basement. He’s chosen a strategically sound location…”

def aggregator(data_queue):

try:

while True:

sensor_name, value, timestamp = data_queue.get(timeout=3)

print(f"[{time.ctime(timestamp)}] {sensor_name}: {value}°C")

except—

“…Clint and Bucky on snipe in the nearby buildings. Y/N, we’ll need you to pull any information you can from his computers.”

I nodded, eyes unfocused.

“Good. Everyone clear?”

We all gave our agreement. Steve nodded curtly. “Good. Suit up, and meet on the roof at sundown.”

—except queue.Empty:

print("No data received for 3 seconds. Shutting down aggregator.")

——

Boots touched quietly on concrete. Warm night air hushed across skin. Sliver moon, few clouds. The air smelled of rain and fish off the Sound. Several yards to my right, Steve’s shield glinted dully across his shoulders. His voice spoke in my comm.

“All right. Sam, Nat— take the roof and head down. Y/N and I will take the north and south entrances. Clint, Bucky, you in position?”

Their voices gave assent. They’d gone ahead to scout and find good sniper positions. Tony would be staying behind with the quinjet.

“Redwing says the coast is clear.” Sam’s voice. “He found a tunnel connecting our target building, though. Leads to the building south of it.”

“Keep an eye on it. Let’s move.”

Steve and I made our way through the crumbling complex. He switched to a private channel and radioed me directly. “That tunnel will be good. Your purpose on this mission is to retrieve data. Avoid conflict if you can. Once you’ve finished clearing his computers, get out and meet up with Clint. He should be south.”

I frowned, stepping around a pile of crumbled bricks. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

“You seemed out of it.”

“I was paying attention.”

“I saw you coding,” he said knowingly. “We need you for this mission, y/n. But I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Is this because you think I can’t handle a fight? I haven’t lost that much sleep—”

“I never said anything about sleep.”

I fell silent. Rats.

“If it makes you feel better, Nat and Tony didn’t think you should’ve come at all.”

“Oh, great.” So now they all thought I was weak? “Please tell me you told them to shove it.”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “That isn’t like you, y/n,” he said quietly.

My jaw tightened.

“I told them we need you,” he said eventually.

“Did you tell them I’m fine?”

He didn’t respond.

I scowled. “I won’t even have to see Bucky for this mission. I will be fine.”

“I hope so. I’ll watch your back.”

I ground my teeth. “I can take care of myself, Steve.” I switched to the group channel before he could respond.

I pushed my anger down as we neared our target, focusing on the building. Three stories of dilapidation. Most of the windows were boarded up, broken, or otherwise so dirty they could hardly be counted as windows anymore. There came a great WHOOSH and I glanced up to see Sam swoop overhead, dropping Nat to the roof. He followed, wings folding in as he landed. “In position.”

“Copy. Move in.” Steve ran off toward the south end of the building, and I jogged toward the north. Feet light. Breath steady. I wondered if Bucky could see me from here, and the back of my neck tingled uncomfortably. Focus.

I found the north door bolted shut, but the windows were all smashed in. Climb through, flashlight on. Reveal dusty floors, cobwebbed corners, rotting crates and pallets. It looked like an old supply building. No sound. No footprints in the dust beside my own. An unused entrance, then.

Moving past the debris, I went through the next door and found myself in a musty hallway. Find the basement. That’s where Steve had said the target would be. See? I pay attention. I checked each of the hall’s doors. All empty rooms, save for the occasional rubbish heap. Perhaps our target was never in this end of the building. Not surprising, if he had no use for it. Still, I remained wary.

“Found two guards,” Sam’s voice spoke over the radio. “At the third floor stairwell.”

“Any trouble?” Steve asked.

“I gave them a little present,” Nat said.

“Keep an eye out in the other stairwells. Could be more of them,” Sam added.

“Copy.”

I moved to the stairwell, turning the door handle. The door creaked angrily as it opened. The sound echoed in my ears like a memory. A smart move—if they knew what they were doing. Anyone on the steps would have been alerted to my presence. Either that, or this door was also unused.

Aiming my flashlight, I peered up the stairwell, listening. No sound. Good enough. The place was too echoey; I’d hear them coming if someone was there. I used a discarded plank to prop the door open before making my way down to the basement.

The stairs ended at a solid metal door. Try the handle. Locked. Pull out pick and tension wrench. Make short work of the bolt. Shift here…prod there… The lock twisted, and I heard the bolt slide back smoothly. Someone had replaced it recently.

Switching off my flashlight, I twisted the handle and slowly eased the door open. A shadow lunged forward. My hand darted up and caught a gloved fist. Twist downward. Kick the door open. Jab a punch to the face. They grunted. Knee to the groin. Headlock as they double over. I slapped a widow’s bite to their face, then let go as they fell to the ground, unconscious. All in under ten seconds. I stepped over their writhing body.

The hall beyond was empty. But there—from beneath a door toward the end—a soft glow. Someone’s here.

“I’m in the basement,” I said, voice low. “Just took out one guard. I haven’t found anyone else, but there’s a light. I think it’s our target.”

“Good,” Steve’s voice responded. “Wait for—”

“Behind you, Cap!” Sam suddenly cut in. The thuds and blows of combat ensued through my radio feed. I felt a strange detachment as I listened, tense. The basement around me remained silent.

“We’re fine, y/n,” Nat’s voice spoke in my ear. “Get in there.”

“Be quick. Then—” Steve grunted “—then get out and find Clint. We’re almost done here anyway.”

I ignored my indignation. “Copy.” I took a deep breath, then moved in.

Steps silent, deliberate. Breath even, controlled. Focus. I slipped my gun from the holster on my thigh. I stopped next to the door. It was slightly open. Trusted your guards, huh? I paused, back to the wall. Listening.

Computers hum. Glass clinks. Someone shifts. One person.

Don’t trust the door to open silently. Head-on would be better. I inhaled. On three.

One. I inhaled. Two. I raised my gun.

Three.

I spun around the corner, kicking the door open and pointing my gun at the man inside. “Hands up!”

He froze, then carefully set down his vials before raising his hands. Small room. He was alone. A computer monitor glowed from the back wall. Bright lights illuminated a mess of a worktable. Bare walls. No window. I met the man’s gaze, eyes narrow.

He smiled slightly. “Private Y/L/N.”

My eyes widened. I searched his face, and it rose, grotesque and cruel, from my memories. No. My grip on my gun loosened slightly. “Doctor—Doctor Hoffenbach.”

His smile widened. No, no— NO—

Nausea. The back of my neck burned. I saw needles, my hands clench—my veins are on fire—I writhe in pain—my vision tunnels—

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice was in my ear. “What’s going on? Is he alone?”

Steve. Focus, curse you. “I need backup,” I replied, feeling dizzy.

“Copy. We’re on our way.”

I tightened my grip on the gun, focusing on the doctor. “Come around the table, slowly,” I said, cursing my voice for shaking. “Make any sudden moves, and I shoot.”

“Very well.” He stepped slowly around the worktable, that horrid smile still plastered to his lips.

I kept my gun trained between his eyes, willing my hands to keep still. Footsteps from outside. I don’t look. Have to keep your eyes on him. Then Nat was tackling the doctor, a widow’s bite already in her fingers. Electricity arcked over his body. I didn’t move. My face felt numb. I stared at him, gun still raised.

“Files, y/n. We don’t have much time. One of the guards alerted backup; they’re on their way.” Nat’s voice cut through my fog, just barely. Like a scalpel. Small, but sharp.

I holstered my gun, then walked mechanically to his computer. At least my fingers knew what to do. Just type. My eyes darted across the screen, seeing faces in the code. The doctor’s face. My handlers. The Soldier.

import socket

target = "192.168.1.1"

open_ports = []

for port in range(20, 1025):

sock = socket.socket(socket.AF_INET, socket.SOCK_STREAM)

sock.settimeout(0.5)

result = sock.connect_ex((target, port))

“Redwing reports incoming.” Sam’s voice in my ear. It was far away. “Movement toward our position, at our eight o’clock. Ten minutes out. How you doin’, y/n?”

My voice didn’t work. I didn’t have a voice, did I? Sosredotóchit'. I watched myself plug my comm drive into the computer. Files began moving to it, instantly transferring to Stark’s database. Watching it felt like a blood draw. I shook my head, trying to clear it. “We’re good. Transfer in progress.”

“Found the tunnel.” When had Steve entered the room? “The door is on the south end of this hall, next to the south stairwell. You got that, y/n?”

I nodded. The progress bar inched forward.

“We’re running out of time!” Sam warned. “How long is this gonna take?”

“Clint, Bucky, take out as many as you can.” Steve said.

“Copy.”

The last file transferred. I yanked the drive from the socket, turning. “We’re good.”

“They’re here!”

Nat dashed out of the room. I ran to follow. I need to do something. A fight. I need a fight. I felt a hand on my arm. I turned to Steve, a scowl on my face.

“You’ve got to get out of here, y/n.”

“I’m fine.” My eyes darted toward the doctor’s prone form.

Steve searched my face, then shook his head. “No. We’ve got this handled. Get out of here. Please.”

I worked my jaw. I couldn’t say no to him. Not really. I almost hated myself for it. “Fine.” I turned quickly to keep myself from seeing his relieved expression.

I walked down the hall, fists clenched. A gunshot echoed from the stairwell. I didn’t need his help. I didn’t need anyone’s help. I just needed to—to do something. I entered the tunnel. First Stark keeps me out of the lab. Then Steve sends me away from fights. The tunnel walls were too close, the ceiling too low. I began to jog.

“Clint, I’ll be in your building soon. Don’t shoot when I come up to your floor.”

“No promises.”

I reached the door at the tunnel’s far end. Pick the lock. Down the hall. Up the stairwell, three flights. Just get this over with. I heard a gunshot as I neared the top floor. I frowned. Had Clint run out of arrows? “What’s your position, Barton?”

“North building, top floor, south side.”

North building. Steve had said Clint was in the south building.

Another gunshot from down the hall. I closed my eyes. Why? It was too late now. My feet were made of lead as I followed the sound. I set my jaw and knocked.

I heard no footsteps, but a moment later, his voice came from behind the door. “Who’s there?”

“Y/L/N.”

A pause. Then the latch clicked; the door swung open. I knew it wouldn’t be Clint. My heart dropped anyway.

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trickstump · 2 years ago

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whenever we talk about bands being active again (this is about both mcr and also what i'm observing in other music fandoms i'm in) i get really wary when we start relying on outside people/especially Brands. like fellas i promise you yo gabba gabba does not know anything about mcr5. yo gabba gabba has a marketing team that wants interactions on their posts, and so they see other people talking about mcr, so they post mcr. it's not that deep. make your tin foil hats responsibly.

#jack's shit

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gayrightsofthewest · 12 days ago

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I am not seeing near enough people talking about how this scene is going to be done in this movie. I actually cannot contain myself. The angst is going to be INSANE.

In the Wicked movie, the “Wicked Witch of the East” scene is likely to be one of the most soul-crushing and emotionally complex moments, especially with Marissa Bode, a real-life wheelchair user, portraying Nessarose. In the stage musical, Elphaba comes home hoping her sister and father will finally be on her side. But instead of helping her, Nessa attacks her, blaming her for their father’s death and insisting Elphaba has “never helped her,” a heartbreaking accusation that simply isn’t true. Elphaba comes to a realisation that she could maybe help Nessa. She forgets risk. In the musical this is where Elphaba makes Nessa walk again. But in the movie, this will likely be reimagined not as a “cure,” but as an act of empowerment—perhaps enchanting Nessa’s wheelchair or giving her some new form of magical mobility, allowing her to feel more independent and powerful. This change would add authenticity and depth, especially honoring Marissa’s lived experience, while preserving the emotional core of the moment. Elphaba is proud, relieved, even to have finally used her powers for love, not rebellion. Then comes BOQ. Not only does he threaten elphaba with a KNIFE he CALLS NESSA AS WICKED AS SHE IS. Then Nessa reveals that she can walk. Silly little Boq will think he can just get away and run away with glinda. HAHA NOT ANYMORE. Nessa’s desperation to keep Boq drives her to use the grimmerie, which backfires horribly, leading to Boq’s transformation into the Tin Man. Sweet oz! I’m so excited to see how they turn Ethan Slater into Tin. By this point the scene has spiralled from hope into horror in a matter of minutes, leaving Elphaba once again abandoned, vilified, and heartbroken. The film has a real opportunity to expand on the rawness already present in the musical. It’s going to leave Elphaba feeling more along than she already is. 💔💔

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tin-wufborf · 1 year ago

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Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 3)

Hello lovelies! I'm back with a third installment of my favorite Sterek fic recommendations!

Let me just say again, I am absolutely blown away by how many of you have liked these posts, but I am still so glad you're enjoying them! Thank you all, and without further ado, let's get into it.

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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On a Chilly Night, Prayed for the Moon by violentcrumbles (E | 1/1 | 1,299)

Derek's hands are bloody, but Stiles' are clean.

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Freckle by starbolin (E | 1/1 | 1,645)

Nobody dies in this story.

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Turn Me On by risacooper (E | 1/1 | 3,021)

The air feels like it’s carrying the music with it, like a girl’s sweet voice is touching him along with the carefully encroaching press of someone’s fingertips at his back.

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I Just Can't Help Myself by breakaway71 (E | 1/1 | 3,187)

"Stiles," the demon says. In his head, her voice sounds soft and sleepy, like she's just woken from a long nap. "I'm bored."

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David Hale, Matchmaker by Menacherie (NR | 1/1 | 3,222)

Chris doesn’t know about the baby. In fact, Laura doesn’t even know until they’re safe in New York with their normal and safe aunt and uncle. Laura doesn’t tell him either. (It’s not until years later, when Derek sees David’s blue eyes staring back at him through Chris Argent, that he has an inkling of who the father is.)

Derek doesn’t say anything, but it’s ironic that Kate Argent burns down the house of her own unborn nephew.

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Legacy by scarletjedi (G | 1/1 | 3,339)

For Campbell men, family was everything.

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all you're giving me is friction by drunktuesdays (M | 1/1 | 4,707)

Stiles is Alpha bait.

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The Pretty Things (are going to hell) by FaeryQueen07 (E | 1/1 | 4,951)

“You have something of mine,” Stiles says, and he reaches for his hood, pushing it back to reveal the rest of his face. Lips curled up in a smile promising pain and eyes like death, he says, “And now I’m going to take it back.”

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nerves more by 1001cranes (E | 1/1 | 5,084)

Stiles only knows the boys are home from college when he sees the Camaro. It's a beautiful car, unusual - Laurent's car, but what's Laurent's is Derek's is Laurent's, rarely ever any distinctions - and Stiles is certain he sees it, idling in the corner of his vision when he talks to Scott, but when he turns around there isn't anything there. [Birthday gift for Saucery]

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the wing wherewith we fly to heaven by vlieger (T | 1/1 | 5,567)

based on this prompt at the kinkmeme: AU in which Stiles' mother had died because of Huntington's Disease.

When Stiles goes to get tested if the disease had been passed down to him, he asks Derek to go with him.

Up to you if the news are good or bad. And I'd love it if Derek and Stiles were pre-relationship.

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Tenfold by PunkPinkPower (G | 1/1 | 5,943)

In the end, it was Allison who made the final push to come home. They had all dropped hints when the war had ended. It was time to settle down and rest, Scott had said offhandedly. They needed a place to raise their pups, Jackson had argued. There weren’t any more great battles to fight, Stiles had insisted. They should honor at least some of their traditions, Lydia had reasoned.

But it was Allison who, one cool night in the Nevada desert, had said, “I think it’s time to go home.”

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More Wolf Than Boy by herlovewasajoke (E | 1/1 | 8,018)

Stiles always tries to protect the ones he loves, but sometimes he's the one who needs protection. (Or, in which Stiles is a werewolf and Derek didn't make him that way.)

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Do You Wanna Date My Avatar? by ChristyCorr (T | 1/1 | 8,904)

In hindsight, maybe introducing the local werewolf contingent to the wonderful world of online gaming hadn't exactly been Stiles' best idea.

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Break the Lock If It Don't Fit by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (E | 1/1 | 12,738)

"Do you know what just happened?" Peter asked, frowning. "Do you know what Derek did?"

"He dislocated my shoulder," Stiles snapped, but Peter just arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by that answer.

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Red Riding Hood series by purplecatsweater (2 works | E | 14,760)

1. Little Red Riding Hood (you sure are looking good) (E | 1/1 | 10,216) Stiles hangs out with werewolves. Stiles dresses up as Little Red Riding Hood for Halloween. It's supposed to be ironic. 2. Claiming Red (E | 1/1 | 4,544) Derek takes Stiles home.

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inside these arms series by rufflefeather (2 works | T | 17,917)

1. About Today (T | 1/1 | 8,901) Stiles is having the worst day of his life and it keeps happening. 2. Until Tomorrow (T | 1/1 | 9,016) Derek's worst nightmares didn't prepare him for this.

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And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi (E | 1/1 | 30,314)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

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(Sacred) In the Ordinary by idyll (E | 9/9 | 78,759)

The Pack, after college, graduate school and the starting of careers, comes back to Beacon Hills. Nothing's gotten less complicated after all this time.

Based on a kink meme prompt that grew legs and got serious.

Note: This is a whole lot of pack!fic with a very slow build Derek/Stiles.

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Cornerstone by Vendelin (E | 6/6 | 83,738)

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

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Home by TheTypewriterGirl (T | 18/18 | 167,178)

January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.

The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.

So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

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#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fic rec list #sterek fic rec #fic rec list #rec list #fic rec #tin's rec lists

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the-masked-ram · 1 year ago

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Sweet and Sour- Part One

CW: SFW, Slow burn, Eventual NSFW, Tags will change with each installment, Fem!reader, sassy reader, opposites attract

A/N: I am taking some liberties with Kaji and the Wind Breaker world with as much as we know about it. This is kind of canon divergent but not an AU

Kaji first met you when the sun was setting. Music was blaring in his ears, a sucker pressed firmly in between his teeth and cheek, and he was frowning down at his scuffed-up knuckles. That damned cat was far more trouble than it was worth. He pursed his lips; it was going to get fucking hurt one day. That thought, the thought that a part of the town that cared for him and accepted him and gave him purpose, might get hurt and wither like a dying flower caused a vicious twisting sensation in his chest.

---

He huffed and shook his head, pushing that feeling away. It was his job to make sure none of that happened. Even now that he was only in Bofurin and no longer in Furin, even though he was too old to truly be part of the school, it didn’t matter. Everyone who was ever once part of Bofurin never stopped. Not until they were forced to.

His gaze dragged along the park he’d found himself in, alone after a long day of patrols. He was still considered a cornerstone in Bofurin, but he was certain one day someone would take his place and that day he would need to find something outside that world that would carry him. Kaji just wasn’t sure what the resting beast inside of him would accept. He’d only known violence, he’d just found a way to channel it for good.

Only one bench had an opening, but you sat on the other side. He hesitated, uncertain, he didn’t want to be bothered now. But then he noticed the orange glow glinting off your headset, the gentle nod of your chin as you bobbed it in time with whatever music you were listening to while your fingers dug around a tin of candy.

His gaze slipped away from you, intending to avoid drawing your attention. He dropped onto the farthest edge of the seat, twirling the stick of the sucker so the candy rolled its welcoming sweetness against his tongue. Your head hadn’t even shifted in his direction.

It was strange, being part of Bofurin meant never getting a moment of peace. Something Kaji usually thrived in, he liked the noise, the rowdiness, even if he didn’t show it. Yet, it also meant when he needed a moment, just a second, to himself so he could think things over it was near impossible to find it. With a town member so close he imagined that you would start thanking him, making his spine stiffen and his hackles raise until something vulgar, and defensive came from his mouth, even if he tried to soften the blow of his words it never quite worked. You didn’t though.

In fact… Kaji tilted his head as he leaned back against the bench, eyes roving over you discreetly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you before. He wasn’t necessarily good with names, but he wasn’t terrible with faces. He was certain he’d remember yours too. You gave no acknowledgement of his presence though and there was something about it, something about you being there, smiling as you nodded along with your music, sucking on ume sour candy, and staring across at the sparkling horizon. Your silence was comforting, was welcoming without needing anything to be said, it was different, and Ren liked it.

“Here,” you said, holding out a bandage.

There was a piece of him, so small, that wanted to ask your name. It made his skin itch and his teeth grind with nerves, but he pushed it down. He was never the one to talk first. He didn’t want to encourage that. He’d rather be left alone right now; he was bothered enough by the others in Bofurin.

He looked down at the damage to his hand once again and sighed, soaking in the last of the warm rays against his jacket. A shadow fell in front of him, and he startled, looking up with his fist clenching in preparation.

“Don’t be an idiot,” you narrowed your eyes and tilted your head, challenging him.

Your headset was down around your neck and your cheek bulged with the candy. He scowled.

“Don’t need it,” he huffed, as he shifted his headset away from his ears.

“It’s just a damned scrape,” he grumbled, fighting to soften his voice. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have, still… even the smallest thing can get worse. A scrape can get infected,” you said persistently and knelt down, ripping open the package and taking his hand in yours.

Instantly Kaji moved to pull back, but your fingers tightened, and you fixed him with a glare that had him freezing up. Not even Kotoha could do that to him. Your touch was delicate though even with the furrow to your brow as you pressed the bandage into place causing your face to morph into a pleased smile.

“Don’t be dumb, keep that on,” you said as you stood and dusted yourself, only to turn and leave.

Kaji could do nothing more than blink, a light flush burned his cheeks, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you walked away before the sun set completely. He definitely would have remembered you. Who the hell were you?

#ren kaji x reader #wind breaker #drabble series #fanfiction #ren kaji

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