#and all the failures he had following that night are all his fault!!

[crownedinmarigolds]

She learned it from watching you.

[rememberwren]

Weeks of bad behavior from your lieutenant have you convinced that he can't get laid. You take matters into your own hands.

Ghost/fem!reader. Rough sex, a nearly submissive Simon, PIV, unsafe sex, pullout method, flimsy premise to explain gross fucking, ruined orgasm. This has been on my laptop for ages please take it. 2.5k

-

It’s your breaking point. 

Once you reach it, a strange calm comes over you. The mission is over, Price has finished taking you all to task for your failures, and Ghost has specifically taken you to task for your own—just like a typical man to notice the speck of sawdust in his Sergeant's eye and ignore the plank in his own. For so long (far longer than just the length of this arduous mission), the friction between Ghost and the rest of the team—between Ghost and yourself—has been building. Like two fault lines grinding alongside each other, there was bound to be a break somewhere. 

You just hadn’t expected it to be you. 

And you hadn’t expected it to be like this. 

“Lieutenant, can I have a word?” you ask, walking damn near double time to keep up with Ghost’s steps. 

“Negative,” he says. “Whatever it is, save it.” 

“No can do. It’s important, sir.” 

“Doubtful.” 

“I insist, sir,” you press, pushing your speed into a light jog so that you can come to stand in front of him and block his way. He reluctantly stops, dark eyes blazing from behind his mask. He’s stripped down, gear abandoned but no less intimidating nor lacking in height or width. Still you keep your chin up, refusing to back down. Something has to give, and it won’t be you. 

“Two minutes. Go, Sergeant.” 

Your eyes scan the hallway. Here won’t do, even if it is night time and the base is quiet. You know that the quiet can be deceiving. Spotting the supply closet, you bound over to check that it is unlocked and—score. It swings open silently, the inside dark and smelling faintly of lemon-scented cleaner. 

Ghost hesitates. 

“It’s important sir,” you promise again. 

You don’t promise that it will take two minutes or less. 

Rolling those dark eyes, he sweeps past you into the closet, flicking the lightswitch. The overhead light hums to life, casting a tinny ivory glow over the room. The shelves are well stocked with supplies, most of which aren’t for cleaning but are typical office supplies instead. There is just enough room inside for a man to lay down if he wanted to. 

You’ll have to test that to see. 

“Take your cock out.” 

Silence, for the length of nearly three of your heartbeats. Ghost’s head tilts, eyes narrowing where he stares down at you. He leans down a little as if to hear you better and asks: “Excuse me, Sergeant?” 

You straighten your spine, refusing to be cowed. “You heard me. Your cock. Get it out.” 

“Why the fuck would I do that?” 

You raise your chin a hair. “The recruits have been talking. They say your bad mood is because you can’t get laid. I’m here to fix that, sir.” 

“Getting your intel from recruits was your first mistake. Of many.” 

“Either I have faith that you aren’t always this much of a bastard or I give in to the belief that you really are. For the sake of my own sanity, I’m choosing to believe the former.” You find a few pins for your hair in your uniform and begin pinning it back, keeping the extras tucked between your lips and talking around them as you prepare yourself to suck his cock. That strange calm is still over you, but beneath it you can feel your better judgment panicking. You’re propositioning your superior officer right now. This could lead to your discharge, and not an honorable one. 

But something had to give. It was either your spirit, or your mouth. 

You drop to your knees even though he hasn’t even reached for his belt yet, hoping to rush him along. His dark eyes follow you, and you see the heat in them. The fingers on his right hand twitch. 

“Do you...want me to do it for you?” you ask, your voice a conspiratory little whisper. It’s the last little push he needs and then he is reaching for his own belt, undoing the clasp and opening it. He unfastens his pants. Beneath his jeans you can already see the bulge forming; proportionately huge compared to the man it belonged to. It made your teeth ache, like the thought of eating something sweet. 

Maybe you were both crazy.

His cock is uncut, a dusky flush just a shade darker than the skin on the back of his hands. His girth is nice; his length is nearly obscene. It takes all of your self control to keep from outright balking at the size of him—though the weepy little cunt between your legs certainly is intrigued by the sight. 

“Well?” he says. “Don’t just stare at it. Suck it off.” 

You reach out and flick the sensitive head cruelly. He hisses, hips jerking away from your touch. “You don’t give the orders here, Lieutenant. If you want your dick sucked, you’re going to be nice to me, once and for all.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me. Ask me nicely.” 

“Yer the one who begged me in here—!” 

You let out a sigh. Drastic measures… leaning forward, your soft cheek brushes against the silky smooth skin of his cock. It twitches against you, burning hot. You turn and let your heated breath fan against it. For all his outrage, Ghost has grown perfectly still above you, not trying to find the perfect angle to slip his cock past your lips or anything else of the sort. 

“Come on, Ghost,” you whisper, lips brushing against him. “I’m about to do something very nice for you. Isn’t it only fair that you ask nicely for it? I’m not asking for much. Just say…please suck my cock.” 

“Suck my cock,” he says. Then, like a murderous afterthought: “Please.” 

You sigh again and shift to stand. His hand is suddenly on your shoulder, pressing you back down. 

“Don’t,” he says, sounding less like the prat he is. “Please. Go on. Will you?” 

“You want me to?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes what?” 

“Please,” he says through his teeth. 

Leaning back on your haunches, you place the softest, chastest little kiss on the head. He’s aroused enough that the foreskin is just beginning to pull back, and you let your tongue out to lap softly at the exposed head, listening to the way his breathing stutters and stops, the way the leather of his gloves creaks as he makes fists as his sides. 

“Try to fuck my face and it’s over,” you warn him. “You might be thinking of how badly you need this—and I know that you do. But don’t forget this: I need it more. I need this more. If we’re going to work together with any semblance of civility, I need this. Do you understand?” 

“No. But I get the gist.” 

“Good enough for me.” You open your mouth and take the head past your lips, suckling on it. He lets out a harsh breath through his nose, cock jerking against your tongue. You can taste precum already, and you’ve barely done anything. No wonder he’s been such a bastard lately. Has he been fucking his own fist at all? God knows that you’ve spent more than one night with your pruning fingers buried to the knuckle inside yourself, hand over your mouth to keep from shouting Ghost’s callsign when you cum. 

Leaning forward, you take more of him into your mouth, enjoying the heavy weight of him on your tongue. He is burning hot, smells and tastes faintly of sweat from the mission, but you don’t mind; living with so many men has almost given you a strange appreciation for the scent of hard work. Maybe Ghost’s most of all. You take him as deep as you comfortably can, but there are still a few solid inches outside the wet warmth of your mouth. 

You work one hand down your pants and underwear, finding the sopping wet slit between your thighs. Using three fingers, you stroke yourself leisurely from hole to clit, soaking the digits. Above you, Ghost mutters a curse, head tilting almost curiously as he searches for a better angle to watch your hand move beneath the fabric of your pants. Removing it, you hold it up to show him the filmy slick drenching your fingers before wrapping that fist around the base of his cock. 

“You get that wet just from thinking about sucking some cock?” 

Your eyes narrow dangerously, slowly pulling back until just the flushed head rests on your tongue, wondering if he’s being mean enough that you need to stop and remind him of his manners. Apparently just the threat of it is enough; he lifts his hands in supplication, mouth twisting a little beneath his mask. 

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything. Didn’t your mother teach you that, Lieutenant?” 

It’s his turn for his eyes to narrow dangerously, an expression that would likely put the fear of God in a lesser man or woman. But with your teeth so close to his cock, you’re not yet afraid. Before he can open his mouth and ruin anything else, you swallow him down as deeply as you can, feeling the thick head press at the back of your throat, your jaw aching. You can taste yourself on his cock and the thought has you whining around his length.  

“Fuck,” Ghost mutters. His hand touches your hair—not to grab, but just to pet. “Yer a pretty thing, aren’t you?”

You hum in delight at this unexpected praise. It goes straight to your soaked core, fanning the flames of the ache between your legs. You are a pretty thing, and you are glad he’s noticed. To reward his good behavior, you lean in until the head nudges the back of your mouth again. Tongue out, breath held, he slips even deeper into the warm channel of your throat. His ragged exhale is as sweet as a moan. 

You give him a few more minutes of your mouth before you grow bored without your own satisfaction. Slipping him free, you work his cock in your slick fist and say to him, voice wrecked: “Time to see if you can lay down in here.” 

Turns out he can, as long as he keeps his knees bent a little. Straddling his waist only emphasizes to you how obscenely thick he is, and you have to stand to shuck your pants and panties down and off altogether. You cast a brief glance toward the door—there is no lock from the inside—but no risk means no reward. 

“I don’t have a condom. You’ll have to pull out. Tell me when you’re close, alright?” 

“Alright.” 

His hands reach for you, gripping your wide hips as you straddle him again. You plant one hand firmly against his chest but hold no illusions that you could actually pin him in place if he decided to move. You lower yourself to brush your soaked slit along the length of his cock, back and forth, until he is soaked in your arousal. 

His mouth opens to say something smart, something that will have you gritting your teeth, but instead you rise up onto one knee and sink down on the head of his cock. It’s all you can take before that pinch of pain strikes you, freezing you in your tracks. His mouth is parted beneath the balaclava, wet, quiet pants that dampen the fabric with each breath. You take your time stretching yourself open, thighs burning in time as you lift and lower yourself over him again and again. 

“Touch me,” you demand of him. 

For all his earlier mouth, he seems content to be obedient now, his gloved fingers searching for the space where you both are joined. The leather traces along the seam where his cock disappears into your cunt before following your parted lips up to your clit. His thumb circles the aching bud with a firm touch, and it helps you ignore the pain as you take another inch of him inside. 

You ride him like that: both your hands on his chest feeling the way it hitches as it rises and falls, hips jerking and swaying as you find the angle that suits you best. 

“Lean back,” he demands. “I want to look at you.” 

“No time,” you pant. “It’s been way longer than two minutes, Lieutenant. I do hate to be wasting your time.” 

“Fucking hell,” he sighs, eyes rolling.

“Don’t forget to tell me when you’re close.” He grunts in acknowledgement, his fingers going sloppy between your thighs. That’s not good enough. You bark: “Lieutenant, do not forget to tell me!” 

He laughs. 

You go to lift off of him, but his laughter turns belly up and dies so quickly, morphing into a strange, desperate little sound as he stops working your clit and grips at your hips, pulls you down more firmly against the cradle of his thighs. 

“I mean it,” you say through your teeth, taking one of his wrists and prying a finger loose until he has no choice but to let go or have it broken. You guide his hand back between your legs. “Don’t cum before me, either.” 

He sits up, jostling you, forcing you to change your angle. His mouth comes down hard against yours, fabric on skin, but you don’t turn him away, lapping at the cotton like it’s his tongue as you kiss through the mask. 

Feeling things slipping out of your control, you press him back down with both hands, pinning him to the floor. The sound of flesh on flesh is loud in the enclosed space. At the apex of his thrusts he brushes against some deep, untouched space inside you that has you digging your nails into him, feeling that ache in your belly writhe and twist into something fearsome. 

“I’m close,” he grits out. 

“Not yet,” you hiss. 

“I said I’m fucking close—“

“Wait for me,” you growl. Then, knowing that you can catch more flies with honey, you soften your tone: “Please, don’t cum yet.”

He shuts his eyes. “Shut up,” he mutters, scrambling for control, fingers digging into your thighs, unsure whether to pull you closer or tear you off of him. “Shut up, shut up, shut the—fuck up.”

It’s your turn to laugh, feeling your release right there, coaxed forward by this pleasurable torture you’re inflicting on him. Never did you think that seeing your superior officer suffering like this would give you so much satisfaction. 

“So close,” you whisper, the tips of your fingers tingling with it. “Simon, I’m gonna—“

When it bursts, your teeth snap closed around a whine, jaw tight as your cunt clenches around him—

—and he jerks you off of him, sending you sprawling against his lower thighs as his ruddy cock twitches and spurts pearlescent seed, one dexterous hand wrapping around the shaft as he jerks himself off through it even after ruining your own. You stare, gobsmacked at his audacity, pussy still twitching and clenching around empty air, the stolen pleasure leaving behind a vicious ache. 

“You bastard,” you mutter. You bat his hand away, gripping his cock and beginning to jerk him off. When you smile, it is mostly teeth, something feral and mean. “Let’s try that again.” 

[tsireyasluvr]

Sweetness

Lo’ak x Metkayina!reader

Authors note: I meant to make this short and sweet but got way carried away😭 hope you guys enjoy this tho! <3 word count: 4k+

Summary: Neteyams death inevitably changed Lo’ak, making him colder and harsher around you than ever before. He shut everyone around him out, but you being the sweet and soft girl of the village made you want to help him get out of his slump. And you did help, just not in the way you might’ve expected.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, porn with plot, angst, comfort, mentions of death, mentions of blood, substance use, alcohol, aged up Lo’ak, dom Lo’ak, mean Lo’ak, innocent reader, praises, brief oral, fingering, drunk sex, grinding, whining, virgin reader, first time (p in v)

Lo’ak struggled with Neteyams death, that couldn’t be more clear to anyone. The entire Sully family had faced their struggles surrounding the older boy’s death, but they had slowly made peace with it. Lo’ak however, wasn’t even close.

He never got over the feeling of it being his fault. He’s the one who pushed Neteyam to save Spider, the one who couldn’t just let things sit and chase after his own family instead. He wanted to save his friend, and in return, he got his brother killed. Lo’ak felt like even more of a failure than before, like he deserved to be treated like an outcast after having his beloved older brother killed.

He’s chosen to ignore his family and friends, ditching his siblings to get drunk and wallow in his sorrows at whatever private place he could find. Really he wasn’t picky, just as long as people would stop bothering him already. He was sick of the looks he’d get from his own family, the bits of pity accompanied by disgust from the rest of the Metkayina clan. 

Never you though. You cared for him, and truth be told you had a bit of a reputation around the clan for being the soft and kind, almost “innocent” cousin of Tsireya and Ao’nung. You were opposite to Lo’ak, never really one to step out of line or do anything that might anger the elders. you didn’t see much of a reason to. You’ve always had a soft spot for the younger Sully boy, mesmerized by how quick he adapted to the way of water, how much effort he put in despite his body not being built for it. He was passionate, rebellious by nature sure, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t found it charming. And as his learning went on, you enjoyed occasionally helping to teach him and his siblings, especially when you got to have a few private sessions with him. You were building a friendship, maybe even a small crush arising within you. All right before the tragic death on those rocks. 

You’d see Lo’ak wandering around the village at times, but only really to get his hands on food and whatever alcohol he could get, before he’d disappear again. Into the palm trees, to a separated beach, maybe a clearing near a cave. Those were just a few of your guesses. 

It bothered you. He was once a fiery, determined ball of energy, never taking anyone’s shit and trusting himself to do what felt right. Yet now, he was always alone and hiding. You couldn’t help but frown and worry. So one night, you see him again, walking through the sand in the general direction of what you assumed was the cove, a bottle clearly in hand. Feeling a little brave, you decided to follow him. 

Lo’ak had sat down on a smooth stone ledge overlooking the water. The sun had already set, making your tanhi glow along your soft skin while the moon lit up the scene around you. You timidly walked over to him, sitting down beside him but a little further from the edge with your legs crossed. Neteyam and Lo’ak were the only ones you’ve ever told about your fear of heights. It was something you always thought was a little embarrassing, and they forced the confession out of you when you refused to join them on a ride on Neteyams ikran. You can’t help but feel a little guilty passing that up now. 

Lo’aks gaze was cold, his face showing little emotion while he started out into the water. His eyes had been bloodshot, from the alcohol or lack of sleep you didn’t know, but it was a sight that made your stomach churn either way. You glanced down to his lap, seeing the now half-empty bottle sat between his legs. 

His thoughts were looming over his head, the alcohol doing little to settle the pit in his stomach. That night was all he could ever think about. The pained scream of his mother, the hurtful “you’ve done enough” his father had muttered, feeling Neteyams heart stop beating underneath his palms, his hands wet with his brothers blood-

“Lo’ak?” Your quiet, velvety soft voice broke the silence. You looked up at him with your big green eyes, your lip permanently a little pouty as the cold breeze blew through your curly hair. “Hm?” He grunted, not really looking in your directed as he took another swig from the bottle. You swallowed thickly, before asking your question. 

“Can I stay for a little?” Your voice sounds almost nervous, like he’d snap or bite at you if you pissed him off. He couldn’t help but feel frustrated at this, taking a deep breath to settle his emotions. He turned to look at you, his vivid amber eyes faded into something more dull. “Actually, y/n, I kind of came here to be alone.” 

You huffed out a breath, trying not to let the rejection get to you once he turns away again. Instead, you sit a little closer, letting your feet dangle off the edge as your heart starts racing in your chest. He cocked a brow at this, surprised that the village good girl didn’t listen for once. That, and the fact that he knew how scared you were of heights. Wether he’d want to admit it or not, Lo’ak had always noticed you tried to make everything better, even when it seemed impossible.

��People are worried, you know” You say quietly, your voice less shaky now that you managed to calm your heartbeat, trying to focus on him and the sound of the waves rather than how high you were up on these cliffs. “I don’t care, y/n” He scoffed, sipping on the bottle again, hardly feeling the liquid burn his throat anymore. 

You furrowed your brows at that, looking at the side of his face again as you spoke. “I know that’s not true, Lo’ak. You’ve never been careless. I understand you’re hurting, you have every right to, but-“ 

He cut you off with a scowl, turning his head towards you “Oh, do i? Because according to my father, I’m the one who got us all into this mess. You say everyone is worried, but who exactly is everyone, y/n? Because it sure as hell isn’t my family, and your clan has hated me from the fucking start.” He practically snarled, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at you.

You looked at him helplessly, feeling yet another tinge of anxiety from his yelling, but knowing deep down it wasn’t meant to be directed at you. Lo’ak stood from his spot, rubbing his face with his hand, and that’s when you smell the wave of alcohol coming from his form. 

“Just.. just go away, y/n. I really don’t need this right now” He leaned against the cliff wall, his arms crossing in front of his chest as he waited for you to get up and go. 

You stood, trying to fight back the tears welling in your eyes. Truth be told, you weren’t really used to having anyone yell at you. You’ve never stepped out of line or disobeyed orders, no one’s ever had a reason to try and punish or intimidate you. You wondered if it may have you come across as weak, or fragile. Two things that you very much were not, regardless of how soft you may be. 

“Lo’ak, please” You say, trying to stand your ground. “Please just let me stay. I won’t- I won’t try to force you to talk about it anymore, I promise. I’m just worried about you” You pleaded, the breeze becoming more harsh as you felt shivers go up your arms.

He clenched his jaw, something inside him stopping himself from believing that you had good intentions. “why?” He uncrossed his arms, scoffing as he stood up straight in front of you. “Why are you so fucking worried, y/n?” His voice sounded almost taunting, and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Because you’re never around the village anymore. You’re grieving, and I think-“ He cut you off once again.

“What? That you can fix me? Take me on a special project for your healer training maybe? You realize some herbs and spices can’t make this all go away, right? Sorry I can’t help you crawl further up Ronals ass with your little strive for perfection, y/n, but it just so looks like I’m a problem this clan can’t shake” He growls, every word feeling almost like a dagger to your heart. 

“You’re not a problem, Lo’ak” You say gently, trying to keep the calm attitude for him. “I don’t see you as one, I never have. I see so much greatness in you-“ 

“Save the fucking speech, y/n-“

“Will you just let me talk!” 

“…”

You had snapped, tears freely falling down your cheeks now. “Stop treating me like I don’t have feelings! Or like- like you don’t know me! We were friends before all this, you know how much I cared for you, how much i still care for you. It doesn’t matter if every single person in this clan hated you, I care and I worry! And it sucks to see you like this, constant bottle in your hand and the energy and joy completely sucked out of you. It sucks that you walk by me like I don’t matter, that you never talk to me anymore and that you’re always on something. I can’t handle it, and it breaks my heart, so excuse me if I come here to check on you because Im worried!”  

He swallowed hard, taking aback by your outburst but trying not to show it. He felt the guilt slowly creep up his skin, watching your shoulders shake with sobs as you let out a much quieter “I worry”, repeating yourself so helplessly. Lo’aks eyes flicked away for a moment before returning to yours. “You shouldn’t” He muttered out, his voice rough as he reached out a hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I can’t help it” You whisper, sniffling as your lip quivered, your eyes now glossy as you looked up at him. His hand on your cheek made you feel the tiniest spark of comfort. He smiled a little at that, the first almost warm expression you’ve seen on his face in weeks if not months. “Hm, I guess you can’t.”

Lo’ak cupped your face with his free hand, the other still holding the bottle you so desperately wanted to grab and throw over the cliff. He brushed his thumb softly against your cheek, looking into your teary eyes as his heart beat faster. “If you keep getting involved with me like this, you’re going to get hurt, y/n. I think I might have a bit of curse on me” He tried to joke, but you saw past the slight smile.

“Then we’ll let that be my lesson” you say sternly, reaching a delicate hand to hold onto his wrist as you stayed close to him. “Alright, fine. You win, princess” He sighed, before letting go of you and moving back down to where he was sitting, looking back at you as an unspoken invitation to join him. 

you padded over to where he was, shivering slightly as the night wore on, the stone cold against your skin. His eyes were on you, seeing the shiver on your skin from the cold as you tugged a little on the sheer sleeves from the woven top you wore. 

“You cold?” He asked, observing your shivering form. You looked at him, shrugging a little, trying not to seem needy or like you were disturbing the newfound peace. He smirked a little, offering you the nearly empty bottle. 

You made a face at that. “No thanks. I’m not much for drinking” you look back down at your lap, fiddling with the little pearls hanging from your loincloth. 

“Have you ever tried it?” He asked, not necessarily pushing, but definitely holding a teasing tone over you. You shook your head no.

He leaned back, snickering a little bit as he closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze on his flushed skin. “Fuck..” He muttered under his breath, opening his eyes to quickly look at you before focusing back on the water beneath them.

“what?” you ask, furrowing your brows in slight confusion. “you’re just so fucking innocent. Like, shielded or something” He smirked, shaking his head slightly. You scoffed a little at that, your lips pouty again. “what, so now i’m not interesting because I haven’t had any messed up traumatic stories?” you crossed your arms as you looked at him. 

“Never said that” He replied, still not looking at you. “Then what are you trying to imply with that?” He licked his teeth before looking at you with another smirk, his fangs momentarily on display. “You’re too trusting. Always looking out for everyone else’s well-being before your own. You walk around like some sort of Angel, y/n.” He used a human term, something he did often. You knew one of the few things he bonded over with his dad was studying the language. 

“You say that like it’s an insult” You quip back, rubbing your arms for warmth. “Because it is.” He replied, eyes scanning over you. “You’re so naive sometimes that it hurts just looking at. Letting people walk all over you. You deserve better than everything that’s been surrounding us.” 

You tried not to let his words bother you, but he really could be so mean sometimes, wether it was intentional or not. Your eyes drift down to the bottle in his lap, feeling a sudden impulse within you as you reach out your hand for it. “give me that” 

“what?” he raised a brow, looking at you with a mix of surprise and amusement. “you want a drink?” 

“Yes, I do. Now are you gonna share or am I too innocent for even a sip?” you say, your look unwavering. 

“Well then” He chuckled, passing the bottle over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Go on then. Take a sip.”

You continued holding eye contact with him as you bring the cold bottle to your plump, pink lips, taking a swig before grimacing at the taste, a drop trickling down your chin. “Eywa” you muttered under your breath, the liquid leaving a terrible burn down your throat.

“Fuck, you’re cute” He said, reaching out to wipe off the droplet and licking it off his thumb. A small smile played on his lips. “don’t ever get used to that shit”

“What? It’s totally fine! I hardly even tasted it” You try to assure, taking another sip before practically gagging as the liquid hit your tongue

“yeah, you’re a fucking liar” He laughed softly, reaching out to take the bottle back from you. “we should’ve gotten you something nicer as a first taste. I would’ve mixed it up with that coconut water shit you like” He screwed the lid back on after finishing off the last bit of the bottle. 

“you know, you swear a lot” you say, your voice a little more wavered now with the alcohol. He turned away from you, trying not to break into a grin at the slight slurring of your voice. “And alcohol is gross. I stand by what I said earlier” you say, crossing your arms as if to prove a point.

“Good” He replied, smiling at you as he turned his body more to face you, sitting a little closer as he felt the alcohol in his system too, allowing him to feel more comfortable and less of the constant dread and anxiety in his stomach. “Means you’re not used to it.”

“Course I’m not used to it! You said it yourself I’m all naive and innocent” you say in a mocking tone, rolling your eyes at that. He broke into another snicker at that. “you’re so fucking cute when you’re drunk” He whispered, chuckling softly as he leaned in closer to you, his breath fanning across your cheek. “You know, Ive always kinda wanted to see you like this”

You giggle a little, your cheeks flushing from both the alcohol and his comment. “what? drunk?” You ask, lazily tilting your head to look straight at him, your curls becoming messier from the breeze, a few stray pieces falling over your eyes. “Yeah” He laughed, brushing a lock of hair away from your blushing cheek. “mm sounds like you might have a bit of a corruption kink, Lo” you teased, surprising both of you with your unusually bold words.

“Maybe you’re not so wrong about that” He confessed, half joking before continuing “I guess I have a bit of a thing for girls like you. All sweet and gentle. Or more like.. just you” his face has gone a little more serious, looking over your features with an almost predatory gaze.

“and here I thought you were asking me to stay away” you lightly tease, acting like his words from earlier didn’t have an effect on you. “I did, and I meant it. You’re too good for me” He leaned down, his lips almost hovering above yours. “But it’s hard to stay true to that, when you’re sat all cute and flustered ‘cause of me”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden close proximity, leaning in closer to him as you look up at him with that same wide-eyed look that drove him crazy, your lips plump and slightly wet from the alcohol still. “i’m tired of you pushing me away because you think it’s the right thing to do, Lo’ak. S’annoying” you drunkenly mumble, trying to keep yourself from getting too dizzy.

“Well, fuck.” He cursed under his breath, his eyes trailing down to your lips as he gave into the temptation. “maybe it’s time I stop pushing you away then” he whispered, before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. You smile against his lips, feeling your chest bubble with excitement as your dainty fingertips come to rest on his chest. 

You pulled back a little, a smile on your face as you leaned your forehead against his. “Am i making you feel better?” you ask, prompting him to let out a laugh. “that’s what you’re thinking about?” He teased, leaning in to give you another quick peck. “yeah, sweetness, you’re making me feel better” He murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, his other hand burying itself in your curls as he deepened the kiss.

“you taste so god damn sweet, y/n” he groaned, his tongue licking its way into your mouth, practically moaning at the flavour of your lips. You whimpered at his words, desperately trying to keep up with him, shifting til you’re practically in his lap. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away and breaks the kiss, gazing down at you with pure lust and adoration in his golden eyes. “You ever let anyone touch you?” he breathed out, his hand holding you close by the back of your neck, your palms still resting on his chest for stability as you shook your head no. “Good” He grinned, his fangs on display as he reached up your back to untie the strings holding your top together.

As he revealed more of your skin, his touch became more possessive and hungry. “i’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” he growled against your skin, dipping his head down to lick and suck at your neck, tilting your jaw back with his hand to have better access. “you believe me?” 

“yes, Lo’ak” you breathed out, your skin feeling hot as you trailed a hand to fist his braided hair. “That’s my girl” he mumbled, his hand moving up to cup your breast, squeezing roughly at the flesh as you let out a whimper. “So fuckin perfect for me” 

You moaned softly at the praises, enjoying the feel of his hands on your body as you cup his face and bring his lips back up to yours, desperate to taste him again. He shoved his tongue in your mouth, his hand creeping down your back before untying the strings holding your loincloth together. “lift your hips for me, mama” he murmured against your lips, instantly taking it off and flinging it away once you did. He slowly slid his hand up your thigh, teasingly running his fingers through your folds before letting out a groan. “Eywa, you’re so wet for me”

you gasp softly at the feel of his fingers, leaning your forehead against his as he probed at your opening, before shoving two fingers in, drawing out a yelp from you. “Lo’ak!” you squeal, closing your eyes in pleasure. “fuck, do that again, sweet girl” he groaned, plunging his fingers in and out of you, desperate to hear more of your pretty noises.

you whined and clawed at his shoulders, not used to the feeling of someone else touching you there, soaking it all in as your walls fluttered against his digits. he curled his fingers inside you, watching you nearly unravel in front of him before adding his thumb to rub quick circles into your clit. “oh! Lo’ak! L-Lo! f-fuck!” he smirked as you cursed, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He thrusted his fingers deeper, pushing faster, seeking out your sweet spot before massaging it with every thrust. You whimpered when you felt his fingertips grazing the spongy spot inside you. 

 “that’s it mama. gonna cum for me?” He sucked a bruise in your neck, his fangs grazing the skin as he resisted the urge to properly mark you here and now. 

“y-yes! mhm!” You moaned, your pussy tightening around his fingers before you let go, crying out his name as you hide your face in his neck.

He slowly pulled his fingers out, shushing your whimpers before flipping you over, your bodies still dangerously close to the ledge, which suddenly just added to thrill of it for you. His breath was heavy as he leaned back down to kiss you, his arm resting on the ground beside your face, almost shielding you in while his other makes quick work to untie his cloth and throw is aside. You looked at him with a dazed expression, taking the time to admire his face and features, feeling your heart skip a beat when his eyes met yours again. 

He smiled down at you, brushing his thumb over your lip sweetly, but it seemed like you had other ideas. Your pink tongue darted out to lick the digit and take it in your mouth, making his dick instantly harder, if that was even possible. He groaned at the feeling, beginning to grind his hips against yours, his cock freely gliding through your folds. “Fuck, mama, you’re making it hard to think straight” he cursed, looking down at your wet pussy dripping slick all over him. 

“Then don’t” You whined, squirming slightly beneath him from the teasing, feeling your arousal grow as you looked up at him with a pleading expression. “Lo’ak, please.” You whispered, bringing your hands up to wrap around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed sweet kisses along his face, a contrast to the sinful acts you were doing. 

Taking your pleas as a sign of consent, he lined himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly as he let out a growl at your tightness. “Oh, fuck!” He groaned, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. “fuck mama, you’re so tight. This pussy was made f’me” He pushed himself all the way in, lifting his head back up to look at your face, a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. you had a look of pure bliss on your face, your eyes screwed shut as you adjust to his size, unintentionally holding your breath.

“breathe for me, baby. breathe” He whispered, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before he began to slowly rock his hips into yours. “Lo’ak” you whimpered, clawing at his shoulders. “I know. S’okay, i’ve got you.” he groaned, his voice low, making you feel more butterflies in your stomach as you listened to every word he spoke. “feels so good” you whine out, panting against his lips. He smiled at you, kissing you hotly before pulling away again, looking down to where you were connected.

He couldn’t help but moan at the sight, speeding up his thrusts as he rutted against you, watching your pussy clamp down on him. “Eywa, you’re such a sight” he grunted, looking up at your face as he pushed his cock deeper inside of you, watching your jaw drop out of pleasure. “gonna keep the mental image of you like this forever, princess. all fucked out like this, all ‘cause of me” He dipped his head back down to your neck, trailing kisses down your collarbones and lower, squeezing your breast with his hand while beginning to lap at it with his tongue.

you couldn’t respond, hardly thinking as he fucked every thought out of you, your back arching off the ground as you whined and moaned, clinging to him as he pounded into your pussy. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he took clear control. “Taking it so well for me, sweet girl” 

He angled his hips in a way to hit your sweet spot again, letting go of your nipple with a pop as he moved to the other one, leaving light bite marks along it.

“L-Lo’ak, m’close” you whimper, your eyes still screwed shut as you feel his tongue licking and tracing at your breasts, your chest covered in bite marks. “yeah? let me feel it. cum f’me, cum all over me. be a good girl” he muttered the filth against your skin, trailing his tongue back up to your neck, his fangs grazing over it again as he planned out the spot to mark you. “wanna feel you shake against me, y/n. all around my dick. you won’t let me down, yeah?” He whispered in your ear, thrusting faster as he felt his abdomen tighten, knowing he was close but holding back til he got you there first.

“mm y-yes, yes Lo” you breathed out, whining and gasping as you felt your thighs shake, your pussy tightening around him before you reached your high, tightening your legs around his waist “ohhh fuuuuck!” you cry out, not caring about how loud you were being as he fucked you through it.

“shit! fuck, mama, where do you want it?” he strained, biting his bottom lip to try and hold back as his hips sputtered. you looked up at him, your lips swollen from his kisses and face slightly dewy as you open your mouth, indicating it for him. “Eywa, help me” he muttered, groaning at the implication as he traced your perfect lips with his finger before pressing a rough kiss to them. 

Once he was on the verge of climax, he quickly pulled out, cupping your face with a shaky hand as you sat up on your knees for him. He aligned his dick to rest on your lips as he pumped his cock, before throwing his head back and cumming in your mouth with a groan. His hand brushed through your hair, looking down at you before pulling his hips away from you and kneeling down with you, his free hand still cupping your cheek. He wiped the little dribble of his cum off your lip, smiling at you adoringly, whispering “so fucking pretty” before leaning in to kiss you again. 

you hum contently, smiling once he pulls away. you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, making him let out a laugh at your sweetness even after doing something so filthy. “c’mere” he murmurs, leaning back against the cliff wall as he raises his arm for you. you crawl over, laying down on his chest and nuzzling into him with your face in his neck, closing your eyes as you listen to the sound of the waves below you. 

[hoshinasblade]

hoshina found you in the rooftop of the training building.

the lights from the skyscrapers miles away from the base looked like beacons from this distance, hoshina thought to himself. you were however looking at the moon, crescent-shaped in the sky, dark clouds swallowing some of its luminescence.

hoshina knew he would find you here. he would have dropped by sooner, but the close-door meeting of high-ranking officials in the force took longer than he expected. even now, his top uniform unzipped and both his hands in his pockets, hoshina can still feel the tension and fatigue from the discussion earlier.

"i'm thinking of quitting." your face is indecipherable, but your voice betrayed the emotion swirling inside you. "i'm no good here."

the commanders of the anti-kaiju divisions met a few hours ago - an emergency session to discuss possible strategies on how they're going to handle kaiju threats going forward. it has not been a week since the attack in the tachikawa base where several officers in your platoon had died protecting each other. the image of people you'd trained with, worked with, even shared a meal with, dying under your command is forever etched on your memories, unable to be erased.

the truth is you cannot even stomach looking at yourself in front of the mirror without feeling like a complete, utter failure.

hoshina stood beside you, the cold breeze blowing the stray strands of his hair away his face. he wanted to offer his jacket to you but settled on putting his arm around you instead. "it wasn't your fault", he said, because it really wasn't. he faced the strongest entity in the horde of monsters that attacked the third division base that night and survived by the skin of his teeth. his only consolation is he didn't lost you in the whole ordeal.

you sniffled. "i'm not like you, soshiro. i'm not... strong." hoshina wanted to assert that what you said is a lie but decided against it. "tell me what i need to do," you pleaded, "cause i don't know anymore."

hoshina wished he could take away your pain even if it means he'll have to be the one to bear its burden.

"as your vice-captain, i am going to ask you to stay," hoshina said before turning to look straight at you. "we've lost a lot of people already, we cannot afford to lose any more." i cannot afford to lose you, he wanted to say.

your scoff surprised him. "and as my boyfriend?" you presented your follow-up question.

"as your boyfriend, i need you here," hoshina answered too quickly. he reminded himself to slow down; the last thing both of you need is an argument. he let the silence enveloped you for a few seconds, just enough to calm his own erratic heartbeat. hoshina, watching you from the corner of his eye, started to speak again. "you remember when you said you wanted to be a defense officer? we weren't even dating back then," hoshina pointed out. "i wanted to be one since i was little, but you, god, i have never met anyone else who wanted to protect people so bad like you do. honestly that's part of why i love you," he told you.

hoshina understands all too well how you feel - the horror of knowing you could have saved people who laid their trust on you but didn't. there are a thousand reasons why he wakes up each day as the vice-captain of an anti-kaiju division, and one of it is because he has to make it up for the people he's lost along the way - he's decided to continue on his mission of eradicating kaijus because if he stops he's scared everything and everyone he's lost will be in vain.

"look, if you really want an out, we know i can't stop you anyway", hoshina said matter-of-factly. "but if you stay, i'll be here for you." his hand lightly touched yours. "i'll protect you. i'll take care of you so you can take care of other people too. i'll protect you."

you did not reply. you did not have to.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hey so it's exactly 10 days after what i added to @cherrychapsticksteve's post, and it hasn't left my brain SO! Murphy, this is for you. i hope enjoy this full version!!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 7,536 | rated: T

-🎸-

Eddie's chest heaves as he sprints farther into the woods.

It’s not the first (and certainly won’t be the last) time he runs from Hawkins’ finest. This time, Hopper and Callahan had busted him after he ran a stop sign (it wasn’t his fault, okay? He had to change the tape and didn’t see the sign or the patrol car stopped at the damn cross street).

The ‘failure to obey traffic signs’ was the least of his problems though, not after his damn lunchbox dropped out of the van when they asked demanded he “Take a step out here, Munson.”, and the last crumbs of the stock he’d gotten from Rick the week before last spilling out at Hopper’s feet.

They get him in cuffs, of course, but the second they turn their backs on him, he fucking books it.

Hands cuffed behind him, wallet chain jangling around his hip in time with the zipper of his jacket hitting the lowest button of his vest, both officers are wheezing way too soon after he starts playing getaway. He twists and spins out of the way of their grasps, but Callahan gets a second wind and nearly catches him, so he bolts; Tears off past his van and into the woods.

He's got some sense of where he's going, they busted him on Cornwallis and it should be a clear cut through the forest past Loch Nora and to the park, but it's even darker as he gets under the treeline. The fading twilight blocked out by the canopy above him.

Still, he took off into the woods on the west side of the street so as long as he keeps going straight, he'll be fine. 

Joke's on him though, nothing about him has been straight since before he came to live with Wayne (since he was born if what his science teacher Mr. Clarke once told him is to be believed), so it's no fuckin' wonder that he's gotten off course.

He dismisses it at first, the gradual incline he's following at more of a jog than a sprint now, but when he hears sirens go off way too close and he finds himself crashing into a meticulously trimmed backyard, it makes sense.

What doesn't make sense is why of all the gallivanting through the woods he'd just done, over and under fallen logs, rocks, through bushes and thickets, that his feet betray him on the half inch concrete lip of patio he hadn't yet slowed himself enough to avoid altogether.

The toe of his sneaker clips the very corner, his feet try to right themselves, but he's already hurtling toward this person's inground pool. 

In the split second he's falling, Eddie's brain does three things almost simultaneously: 1) realizes that whoever's house this is, there's only one light on. an upstairs window that must be a bedroom. Good. Maybe then he can pick himself up after this what-would-have-been super embarrassing fall and get the fuck back out of their yard without them noticing.

2) It has enough sense to turn his body to the left to take the fall onto the concrete on his shoulder instead of his face, though it means he'll definitely be rolling into the pool now. Damn. 

And 3) a simple thought of 'Aw, fuck.'

What his brain didn't account for was the edge of the pool. And that it should have considered its boney housing's downward momentum in the fall.

His temple collides with the edge where plastic meets stone, and Eddie Munson, freshly concussed and all but dead to the world, falls into the water.

-🍦-

The night Steve Harrington officially meets Eddie Munson is like every other.

At home, alone, waiting for it to be a reasonable time to go to bed. 

He’s leaning his desk chair back on two legs, his feet propped up on his mattress, flipping through the new June '85 edition of Vogue that came in the mail that day addressed to Linda Harrington.

Halfway through reading about Eric Stoltz in that new movie Mask (and seriously debating somehow guilting his parents into sending him one of these watches for a late graduation gift because shit that's a nice watch), he hears a splash from outside his window.

The sound makes him jump from how unexpected it is, and he would've for sure tumbled ass backwards off his chair if the wall hadn't been behind him.

He jumps up and yanks open his blinds to look out at the pool below.

There are fresh ripples weaving across the normally still top, and a shadow of something bubbling up from the bottom.

His guts twist up immediately; of course, it could be just some stupid deer, but it could also be any number of insane hell creatures, one of which had once used his pool as it's front door before.

"Shitshitshitshit," Steve snatches up his bat from under the bed and launches himself out his room and down the stairs in record time.

By the time he gets to the edge of the pool, the ripples have dispersed significantly, and the..whatever it is.. at the bottom is releasing bubbles slower than ever.

It takes about a second more for him to parse out the very obviously human shape crumpled under the water and--is that blood?

Steve dives into the water directly across from the bright red smear on the plastic lining.

His eyes burn with the chemicals, all he makes out of the person is a pale face and dark hair.

He hooks an arm under theirs and across their chest, and pushes up from the bottom.

Steve finds a foothold in the shallows and powers over to the stairs as fast as he can, pulling the limp man up onto the concrete.

He gets to work on them immediately, checking for a pulse, checking for breath..nothing.

"Fuck Fuck Fuck!" Steve starts compressions on his chest, counting in his head before sucking in a deep breath, pinching the guy’s nose shut, and sealing his mouth onto the blue lips below him.

Nothing.

"C'mon Munson," Steve starts counting compressions again. "Don't do this to me, man." It surprises him that this is when his brain pairs the pale features and dark denim to Hawkins' Super-Senior, but it's him alright. The vest is a giveaway, though he definitely looks like a completely different person without his bangs hanging over his forehead, or that dumbass grin he has when he's going on some tirade at lunch.

Steve closes his lips over Eddie's once again and this time, it works.

Eddie pitches forward, spewing chunky water all over the ground in front of him.

Steve supports his back as he does, "Shit, man, let it out, let it out." He looks down then, finally realizing Eddie's arms have been completely incapacitated by a pair of cuffs this whole time. 

His breaths are ragged, gagging while he takes in shaky breaths.

He continues to pat Eddie's back, smacking his palm over some demon-looking thing on the back panel of his vest.

"Breathe, Eddie, you got it." The older boy's dazed gaze turns to him then, "You back with me?"

"Harrington?" it comes out a wheeze.

“Hey Munson, you okay?”

Eddie looks around at Steve’s yard, to the pool, “Yeah I—Yeah..” he looks back at Steve, “What happened?”

“You fell into my pool, dude.” he chuckles, “I pulled you out and you weren’t breathing.”

“…huh.”

That pulls another snort out of him. “Yeah, ‘Huh.’.”

Eddie looks off into the woods, then back to his face. “And what happened before that?”

Steve pulls lightly on the cuffs. “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“I don’t–I don’t know what..” he glances around, panicked, “I don’t know why I’m in cuffs, I–”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay man. You’re okay.” Steve rubs gently over the same spot he’d been patting, “Let’s get you inside, alright? Get some food maybe?”

Eddie takes a couple more breaths then nods, “Yeah…yeah okay, Harrington.”

He leads Eddie inside after he’s calmed down a bit more, sitting him down on one of the chairs at the breakfast nook and dashing quickly to the laundry room off the kitchen for a towel.

"Eddie, hey, y'gotta stay awake." he says, wrapping him up and giving him a light shake, "I'm gonna make you something to eat soon, but I wanna get you outta your cuffs first. Can you tell me how to get them off?"

"Yea-yeah," Eddie smacks his lips dryly, thinking hard, "Do you have a bobby pin?"

Steve studies him while he quickly searches his brain for where the last time he might've seen one. He's still dazed, still out of it (which is fair, honestly, he almost died after all), and is starting to shiver despite the towel.

He goes to the sink and pours a glass of water. "I think my mom has some. Let me help you drink some of this, and we’ll get you upstairs, okay?" he says, turning back to Eddie and keeping his voice soft, as if he'd scare him off if he spoke any louder.

Eddie's face scrunches in confusion, so he continues, "I’ll get you out of those cuffs and into the shower so you can warm up."

He watches Eddie’s expression morph as he registers what was said to him. His eyes go hooded, his cheeks tinge pink, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "Y'wanna get me naked, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, his own cheeks prickling with heat. Eddie's hot okay? Objectively. He doesn't have to be into guys to know that. And flirting is flirting.  Sue him. "Shut up man," he laughs.

He holds the glass to Eddie’s lips and lets him drink as much as he wants, then sets the glass down on the table. He pulls gently on Eddie’s bicep, hooking an arm around the other man's waist, under an arm, and when he finally feels like he's got a good enough hold on him, they head to the steps.

They make their way up the stairs slowly, Eddie mumbling to himself the whole way. Steve hears a grumbled "Naked..", something that sounds like "..Gotta be dreamin',", and his own name, drawn out as if in disbelief "Steeeve Harrington...".

Finally, they make it to the master bedroom and Steve deposits Eddie on the edge of the bed. He immediately falls over onto his right side.

"Ow! Shit.. that fuckin' sucks."

"Your shoulder?" Steve asks, grabbing up a pin from his mother's vanity and turning back to the still damp man on the bed.

"Yeah, I–I must've fallen onto it before I went in." Eddie reasons, "Also, my head hurts."

"I bet," Steve nods, climbing up behind Eddie, "Now, you gotta tell me what to do here, man." he turns the cuffs slightly where he can see the little keyhole. "I've never picked the lock on a pair of cuffs."

"Ya don't say..'' he drawls sarcastically, "Just put the pin in my hand and I'll do it.”

Steve watches Eddie's fingers fiddle with the bobby pin; twisting it every which way while he feels out which side is which, which end of it he wants, prying it open with only a couple fingers, twisting into his hair, the pads of them ghosting along his lips, how they might feel opening him u--

Steve jumps up off the bed, causing Eddie to complain about the movement fucking up his concentration or something.

He ignores him, heading into the ensuite to start the shower.

Holy shit.

What in the actual fuck was that? He shakes his head, hard, willing his brain not to think those thoughts again. He is not gay or anything, everyone has thoughts like that sometimes. Tommy said so.

After starting the water and grabbing a new towel from under the counter, Steve takes a breath and steps back out into the bedroom.

He lets the breath out in relief when he sees Eddie's hands separate from the other, one palm pressed to the left side of his face and his other hanging loosely in front of him off the edge of the bed.

His soggy white Reeboks have also joined him on the bed, feet dangerously close to the pillow.

"Up n’ at 'em, Munson, gotta get you cleaned up." Steve calls, relishing briefly in making Eddie jump in surprise. "Can you get up on your own?"

Eddie groans, but slowly lets his feet drop back down to the floor.

Steve is back on Eddie's side of the bed before he's upright, offering a hand.

His open palm is puzzled at for a few long seconds, then Eddie places his hand in Steve's.

"Okay, up we go," he pulls Eddie to his feet, singing his arm around the other man's waist again and pulling Eddie's arm over his shoulders.

"Dizzy." Eddie complains.

"I know, I know," he soothes in return, "It's this way."

They shuffle into the bathroom and Steve lowers Eddie onto the closed lid of the toilet.

"We gotta get you out of your wet clothes, okay Eds?" The nickname slips through his teeth, but Eddie doesn't seem to mind it, nodding slowly.

Steve kneels in front of him, "Shoes first. Can you get your jacket and vest off for me?"

“Pushy, pushy,” Eddie teases, starting to pull his jacket off, “You really wanna get me naked, don’t you.” 

“Oh yeah. I am just itching for ‘pale, scrawny asshole’.” Steve deadpans in return, unlacing Eddie’s sopping sneakers and placing them in front of the counter.

“Oh now you wanna see my asshole? Buy a guy dinner first, Stevie.”

Steve tries to ignore the soupy feeling in his stomach at the nickname. It’s not even a new one, Tommy’s called him that before too and it never made his guts all squirmy like this.

It’s gotta just be because he and Eddie aren’t friends like he and Tommy had been.

That’s all.

But that’s not all, is it? His brain betrays him again, taking only half a second to imagine going on a date with Eddie, taking him to dinner, a movie, whatever. Taking him home, giving him a kiss goodnight.

The scenario is imagined, but the swirling feeling in his stomach is all too real.

He’s felt this before, the nerves and excitement of taking out a girl he really likes, getting to talk to her, get to know her, the possibility of getting to kiss her (and maybe more) at the end of the night.

But now it’s Eddie Fucking Munson that his gut’s all soupy for. Does he like Eddie? Does he want to Date him?

Steve feels his face heat up, his knees feel wobbly despite being on stable ground, his stomach erupts in butterflies—aw fuck. He likes Eddie. 

“Be careful with this, Harrington, It’s worth more than you’ll ever know.” Miraculously, Eddie managed to get his jacket off with the vest still wrapped around it. He passes the bundle gingerly over to Steve, like it's breakable.

He looks down at the crumpled clothing in his hands; he can see a couple patches that are hand-sewn into the denim, a broken zipper on one of the sleeves of Eddie’s jacket that has been pinned shut, a single button worn shinier than the rest. He believes him.

“I’ll take care of it, promise.” Steve says, placing the bundle up next to the sink gently. “Now, do you need help with the rest?”

Eddie immediately looks like he’s going to say no, but he seems to think better of it. “Uhm, can you help with these?”, he pats his legs, “I’d do it myself, but they’re gonna be a bitch to get off since they’re all wet and I’m still dizzy and don’t really want to bend over to pull off the bottoms but–y’know what just forget it, I’ll—”

Steve interrupts his rambling, “Eddie, it’s fine! I offered, didn't I? Help me out?” he gestures to Eddie’s zipper with his chin and starts to pull at the legs of Eddie’s skinny jeans. “I don’t get it man, why squeeze into these–”

The jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle pulls his focus, his eyes darting up to catch a flash of the buckle being undone. He averts his eyes, but a split second later, his brain registers what he’d seen and his gaze snaps back to it.

“Handcuff buckle? Really?”

“Don’t diss the buckle, Stevie,” Eddie chides, working the buckle loose. It continues to jingle as he works at it.

“How good of a buckle can it be if you can’t even get it undone?” Steve says, getting the second leg of Eddie’s jeans pulled down under his heel.

“It keeps me virtuous.” Eddie grits out, then huffs out a “Finally..” as the mini handcuffs fall open.

It was a bad moment to be done with what he was doing. Because Steve looks up just as Eddie unbuttons his fly and pulls the zipper down.

Steve shoots up off the floor, “Need some help standing up?” He asks, trying to cover for his minor freak-out. Eddie didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie takes his hand and pulls himself up, “Don’t let me fall okay? I’m still feelin’ kinda…loopy.”

“Sure, man.”

So Steve stands there, gaze averted politely, as Eddie shimmies his jeans off and pulls his shirt off over his head.

He leaves him to it after that, pointing out the shampoo and soap, where he’d hung the new towel for him, and escapes to go find Eddie some new clothes.

He fishes a pair of black sweats out from one of his drawers, a pair that had been too small for him since sophomore year, and a plain black undershirt. He grabs up his personal favorite hoodie too, a Hawkins High Swim one, and a pair of thick fuzzy Christmas socks Mrs. Henderson had given him this past year.

After agonizing over whether or not to grab a pair of boxers too (he does, a new pair from the back of his top drawer), Steve wanders back into the master bathroom and deposits the pile on Eddie’s vacated seat.

The frosted glass door and added steam cloud Eddie’s form, but Steve can see the vague outline of him, standing just at the edge of where the water must be falling.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.”

“‘Kay.” Eddie says softly.

It’s after he’s gathered up Eddie’s chlorine scented clothes that he notices, thinking belatedly to grab the discarded towel off the bed on his way back downstairs, but when he turns to grab it, he’s stopped short by a darkening stain puddled up on one end.

Right where Eddie’s head had been.

It all clicks. The smear of blood on the edge of the pool, Eddie’s complaints of his head hurting, of feeling dizzy and lightheaded.. And now Steve’s left him standing on his own in a hot-ass shower?!

He’s not sure how he heard it, but there’s a soft “Steve?” called out from the bathroom before a loud thump echoes out into the bedroom. 

-🎸-

At first, the shower felt fan-fucking-tastic, but not long after stepping under the hot, wonderfully pressured stream, he’d started feeling (even) more light headed.

He takes a deep breath, and leans on one hand at the back of the shower out of the spray while his head clears enough.

Operating in much the same way through the rest of the shower, he scrubs himself down, washing the chlorine from his skin and hair, wincing slightly when he stretches his shoulder the wrong way and when he scrubs over his right temple. There’s a knot there. Great.

He continues through the motions, taking as deep of breaths as he can, but rinsing the shampoo out of his hair is what does it. His arm stretched up, the more concentrated steam, the tilting back of his head…he bobbles forward out of the stream, hand on the wall again.

Where the hell is Steve? He’s gotta get out of here, gotta turn off the shower..somehow? Eddie’s vision blurs. Fuck.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.” Steve says, back in the room as if summoned by Eddie’s desperate thoughts.

‘C’mon coward, ask him for help! He’s right outside the door!’

“‘Kay.”

‘No! Damnit!’ He’ll be fine, he just needs to breathe again, needs to sit down..

“Steve?”

Then he’s out (again).

-

When he comes to (again), he’s back on the bed, under the covers, and still kinda damp. And dressed.

“What the fuck?”

The bedroom door opens then, and he tries to sit up. Shit, why is he so sore?

He blinks away the fuzziness in his eyes only to see Steve goddamn Harrington hovering over him.

Steve pushes him back down onto the pillows. “Oh no nono you don’t. You stay right there.” he chastises.

“What the fuck, what happe—” The memories of the last couple hours roll over him all at once, along with heavy mortification that presses him further into the pillows. He covers his face with his hands, “Jesus H. Christ..did I pass out in the shower?”

“I’m sorry Eddie,” 

“Sorry for what? That I’m a klutz?” he mumbles out from under his palms. “Don’t think that’s your fault, Harrington.”

“You’re not a klutz, dumbass, but you do probably have a concussion…” Steve snarks back, and Eddie feels the mattress sink beside him, “Though I don’t know, maybe you always pass out in the shower?” 

Eddie can’t help but laugh. He scrubs his face a couple more times, then drops his hands “Only in the showers of my own personal saviors.”

He swears Steve’s face tinges pink at that, “Well aren’t I a lucky guy.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m dressed, and last time I remember, I wasn’t..” Steve’s face is blazing red now. “I think you must be, if you got a look at the goods.”

He waggles his eyebrows teasingly when Steve glances up at him, “Shut up man, I didn’t look at your junk any more than I had to.”

Eddie sputters at that, “How much looking is in your definition of ‘had to’?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “You passed out in my shower man, I had to get you out didn’t I? And I’m not about to leave you cold and wet so..I wrapped you up in a towel and got you up here.” he gestures to the bed, “Got you dressed and under the covers so you could sleep somewhat comfy while I made you something to eat.”

Eddie continues to eye him suspiciously, “So you got into my pants and then got them on me? That seems backwards…and sounds kinda fishy, Steven.”

“Oh my god..” Steve throws his head back in exasperation and scrubs his own face with his hands. “I got your pants on while you were still wrapped up in the towel, asshole, now do you want something to eat or not?”

“Wow…the kiss of life, a personal scrubdown (“I didn’t scrub you down!”), and now I get breakfast in bed? If I’m dreamin’, don’t wake me up.”

“Your dreams include getting concussed and passing out?”

Eddie shrugs, “To be fair, there’s usually less clothes and more making out, but I’m holding out hope.” He waggles his eyebrows again and Steve’s face flushes red, scoffing lightly 

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He feigns being shot in the chest, hamming it up and falling limp further into the pillows, “You wound me Steven, am I to be laid up for the rest of my days? Does his royal highness not believe in true love’s kiss?”

“I’ve already kissed you once, dumbass, Is that not enough for you?”

“It musn’t be, for my head and heart still ache!” he continues to bemoan, flailing a hand to his forehead. He’s honestly not quite sure why he’s still keeping up with the bit, painfully straight jocks like Steve don’t normally take well to his dramatics, and he’s not keen on getting punched right now.

But Steve doesn’t punch him. He laughs. 

He laughs and says “How ‘bout you eat something first, and if your head and heart still ache after that, I’ll give you a smooch.” Steve says, standing from the edge of the bed.

Eddie gawks at him, but allows himself to be helped up after his stomach growls loudly not a second later.

Steve walks down the stairs in front of him half-sideways in case he decides to pass out again, then helps him up onto a stool at the Harrington’s long kitchen island.

“I made eggs and toast, but I can get you something else if you like?”

Eddie’s stomach rolls at the thought of eggs, “Just toast, thanks.”

Steve nods, and passes over a plate with plain buttered toast stacked at least a half a loaf tall and a new glass of water. He takes a slice gratefully and munches on it slowly.

Suddenly, something clicks. “Wait, rewind, concussed? You think I might have a concussion?”

“You hit your head didn’t you?” he asks, rounding the counter with a plate of his own and perching on the stool next to him.

“Well yeah, but concussion?”

Steve shrugs, “I mean, I’m not 100 percent sure, but you definitely hit it pretty hard,” he gently pushes the hairs of Eddie’s right temple up and back, touching the fingers of his other hand to the knot he’d felt in the shower earlier.

“Sorry,” he says when Eddie winces, “There was a cut there too, but it wasn’t that deep so I cleaned it up and used a couple butterfly strips on it. Definitely looked worse than it was, but you said you didn’t remember what happened, that your head hurts, you’re dizzy, and I’m guessing the thought of eggs made you nauseous didn’t they?”

Eddie blinks at him once, twice, “I think I have a concussion.”

Steve barks out a laugh, tossing his head back with it. He looks back down at Eddie, still grinning, and time seems to freeze for a long moment.

Steve Harrington’s always been attractive, okay? And Eddie is only a man. The soft swoop of Steve’s hair, messy and flatter than he’s ever seen it in any normal circumstance, but it still looks good, the moles he can see scattered across his neck and arms and legs that Eddie’s always seen a big ol’ ‘KISS HERE’ over each, the relatively new softer smile he’d seen after Hargrove showed up and King Steve was tossed from his throne..

Eddie’s been so gone on Steve for so long already, and now he’s literally saved his life.

He never thought he’d ever want to be the damsel in distress, but now is, and he’s here, and Steve Harrington is his knight in shining armor.

It’s not just the possible concussion making his head swirl.

“Thanks, Steve.” he says, coming back to the present again–was he always this close? Do not look at his lips, Munson, stay focused. “Never thought this’d be how I’d ever be in your house though.”

Steve’s eyes flash to somewhere below his nose (‘Wait.. did he just–’), then he takes his hand away, dropping it back to his lap from where it was all but wrapped around the back of his skull. He didn’t even register that Steve was still holding him (‘Fuck!’).

“How d’ya think you’d ever be here then?” he asks, taking a large bite of runny egg.

“Oh y’know me, peddler of wares for any manner of frivolities my liege may hold.” He attempts to give Steve a bow, but gets dizzy almost as soon as his head tips forward.

Steve’s hands reach out to steady him, but drop when Eddie sits back up. “Yeah I didn’t get any of that.”

“Party favors, Steve-o, pills, ganja..all that fun stuff.” Eddie continues on at Steve’s understanding expression, “That’s what got me cuffed earlier.”

“Ah, so you do remember.”

“For the most part. They wouldn’t’ve even pulled me over if my tape hadn’t ended. I was trying to swap it out and ran a stop sign.”

Steve snorts, “What, did you try to bribe them with drugs?”

“I wish; that'd’ve been a much better story,” Eddie laughs, taking another bite of toast, “My stash fell out at Hopper’s feet when I got outta the van.”

Steve winces, “Bad break, dude. So what, you just decided to run? Why not before they cuffed you?”

“I dunno, man, I just bolted into the trees. Those old men couldn’t’ve caught me if they tried.”

“So you got pulled over, got cuffed for having drugs in your car, evaded capture by running through the woods in the dark, fell into my pool shoulder first,”

“Well I rolled into it, actually. I tripped on your patio, couldn’t catch myself on my hands, obviously, so I fell onto my shoulder first and kinda skidded slash rolled into the pool. Must’ve hit my head then too.”

Steve winces again, “That’s why the “Sorry” earlier.. I saw that blood on the lining and I didn’t even check where you could be bleeding.” He shakes his head in disappointment, “I shouldn’t’ve put you into the shower like that, it’s not good for you. And I know my way around a head injury.” Steve mutters.

“Sportsball will do that to you.” Eddie nods, grabbing a second slice of toast.

“It wasn’t basket–” he sighs, “Nevermind, is there someone you need to call or anything?”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. “Trying to be rid of me already, Harrington?”

Steve waves him off, “Nah. Your clothes are still in the dryer.” he says, standing up and passing around the island to the far counter where a phone book lays open. He picks it up and brings it back to Eddie, “I looked up Munson in case someone would be wondering where you are, but the only Munson here didn’t answer. A Wayne Munson?”

“My uncle,” Eddie explains, “He wouldn’t, not at this time of day. He’s already at the plant for the night.”

“Ah.”

“You can just give me a ride home, we stashed a key on the porch.” he tries to stand, pushing through the dizziness.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re staying right here, Munson. That’s an order.”

Eddie sinks back into his seat.

“Concussions are tricky, you know; You have to check on the person periodically while they sleep to make sure they’re not getting worse. If there’s not going to be anyone at home with you, you’d better stay here.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.” Eddie gives him a two fingered salute, and relishes in the feeling of making Steve smile again. 

-🍦-

It was easier than he thought it'd be to convince Eddie to get back to bed, this time in the guest room across from Steve’s own bedroom.

He’d thought the surprisingly charming weirdo (he was apparently already smitten with) would fight him on it, but he’d followed him back upstairs without complaint after a third slice of toast, though he had gotten a bit woozy about 2/3rds of the way back up.

“What, no smooch? I have to settle for common drugs?” Eddie grumbles as Steve shakes a couple Tylenol into his palm. Steve just rolls his eyes, ignoring him (and the giant swoop of his stomach), “I’ll be up for a little while longer, I have to get your shit outta the dryer and get ready for work tomorrow, so I’ll wake you up before I go to bed and wake you up again in the middle of the night.”

Eddie takes the offered glass of water from him, gulping down the pain meds, “I’m gonna be super grouchy at you, you know.”

Steve smirks at him, “I know, but it’s gotta be done.” He takes back the glass and sets it on the nightstand. 

Eddie’d nodded through a long cracking yawn, smiled, then murmured a light “G’night Stevie.” that made Steve’s heart squeeze.

“‘Night Eds, I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Steve, however, did not get to sleep as easily, lying awake in his room after waking Eddie the first time. 

He set his watch to wake him in three hours to check on Eddie again, and he’d already wasted a good half of it staring at his ceiling and thinking in circles about everything that had happened, everything he’d felt and thought about the town freak sleeping across the hall.

He’d started with gathering all of it up and trying to cram it away to some corner of his head and leave it there, lock it away from even himself, but to no avail. The…he supposed you could call them feelings...for Eddie had grown much too big already for any one of the lock boxes in the back of his brain.

Then he’d tried to rationalize them again like he had at first. Tommy had told him, very confidently, that everyone has gay thoughts sometimes, it’s normal to realize when a guy is just objectively attractive. To realize you’d totally hit that if you had the chance. 

Harrison Ford was the first person Steve’d brought up during that conversation, and Tommy agreed. So that was it, Eddie Munson was just the same as Harrison Ford. He’d definitely sleep with Eddie if there was ever a chance.

And was there? There’d always been rumors about Munson, at least since Steve’d started at Hawkins High, maybe even before, but were they true? How would he even ask that? “Hey Eddie, heard you might be..y’know..into guys and I think I might be too. Do you maybe wanna do something about that? Together?”

Yeah. Not likely.

And Eddie hasn’t looked at him any different than he ever had before, at least not in the handful of times he’s caught the older teen looking at him across the cafeteria or from down the hall.

Should he just..start flirting and hope for the best? What if he doesn’t like it and decks him for it?

Steve scrubs his face again, this is so much easier with girls.

…And that’s another thing, what about girls? He still likes girls. A lot, actually. So is he even allowed to like Eddie? He reasons it’s at least possible to because he does like Eddie. Wants to date him too, but that’s definitely not allowed.

He’s no closer to figuring out what he’s supposed to do when his watch beeps to life again.

Sighing, he throws his covers off, stands up, and sneaks across the hall to Eddie’s room.

“Eddie..hey! Eddie!” Steve whispers, gently shaking him awake. Eddie’s bangs are sticking straight out from his forehead, the rest of his hair fanned out in a mess below his head, his morning breath already starting to form…how can this be so damn attractive?

“Mmm…Hm?” Eddie’s eyes squint against the low light filtering in from the hallway, “Steve?”

“Hey, how are you feeling? Is your head feeling better?”

Eddie sinks back onto his pillow and lets his eyes fall shut again. “Uhm, it hurts, but less than it did earlier.”

“Good, that’s good.” A split moment of bravery comes over him then. “How about your heart?”

“Still aches,” He slurs sleepily in response.

Steve’s bravery and Eddie’s wakefulness fade with each second, so before they’re both gone, Steve leans forward and presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “See you in the morning, Eds.”

-🎸-

When Eddie wakes up the final time the next morning, it’s on his own and from an amazing dream involving an epic battle, injuries, and a healing kiss pressed to his forehead by a soft-haired paladin.

He sits up, already significantly less dizzy than he’d been last night, and chugs down the glass of water Steve must’ve left last time he was up here. 

He gets dressed slowly, grabbing his freshly de-chlorinated Iron Maiden tee and trusty black jeans from the neatly folded pile on the nightstand. 

He’s wondering where his jacket and vest are when the sweet smell of breakfast hits him, “Oh, fuck yeah,” he says aloud to himself like a loser.

Eddie pulls on his socks, mismatched but bundled together anyhow, and steps out into the hall.

Steve’s voice filters up the stairs with a mouthwatering buttermilk smell, “Good morning Mr. Munson, I’m sorry if I woke you.”

What time is it anyway? Eddie winces internally on Steve’s behalf if it’s anytime past 8. 

“My name is Steve Harrington, sir, and I—” Steve sighs, “Yes sir, that Harrington.”

Eddie actually winces this time, halfway down the stairs now.

“No, no no, of course not, no trouble at all Mr. Munson, I’m calling because of Eddie.”

Oof, nope, that’s not gonna help ya, Stevie.

“I didn’t—no, not complaining about—no, he got hurt an–”

Eddie can hear Wayne’s voice through the phone now, even from where he’s stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“I think he might have a concussion and—no, no! I wanted to let you know so you can—”

He decides to save Steve from the Wrath of Wayne and walks around the corner into the kitchen. He holds his hand out for the receiver, and Steve gratefully passes it over, turning back to his waffle maker (a whole-ass waffle maker! Lucky sonofabitch…).

“--And if you don’ tell me righ’ this minute how he got hurt–”

“Calm down, old man, I’m fine. Though I think Steve would’ve denied me waffles if you went on any longer.”

“Theodore Munson, you tell me what’s goin’ on right this second.”

“Whoa! Full name privileges are revoked for you,” He jokes, unable to resist riling up his uncle more. He pulls the cord around the corner and back into the hall, “Wayne, seriously, I’m fine. I just fell into Harrington’s pool a little. No big deal.”

“No big deal huh? Why’n the hell were you concussed in Loch Nora?”

“It’s a long story, but short version is I fell into Harrington’s pool and smacked my head. Steve made sure I was okay, and,” he cringes, “and Hopper might show up on our doorstep in the next couple hours.”

Wayne heaves a long sigh, “Goddammit, boy.”

“It’s all good, I’ll be home soon. I’m gonna pilfer some breakfast and get Steve to drive me home.”

“Wait, wha’happened t’yer van?”

“Okay, bye Wayne! See you soon!”

“Theodore Wayn—”

He breathes a sigh of relief when the phone is back on its cradle.

“Your uncle is scary, man.”

Eddie turns back to Steve’s voice, sitting on the same stool he did last night. Steve passes him a plate with two large golden brown waffles.

“Nah, he’s a big softy. He just worries ‘bout me.” he picks up his fork, digging into the fluffy waffles. They are unfairly good. “Thanks for breakfast, Steve, this is great!”

“You’re welcome man, y’want strawberries?”

They eat quickly, it was later than Eddie thought and Steve has the opening shift at his new-ish job at Starcourt’s ice cream parlor.

“Oh, um.. Ice cream’s good, right?”

Steve grimaces, “I feel like it’ll be very not good after this summer. Plus I have a dumb uniform I have to wear.” he gestures to the backpack he’d grabbed on their way out and tossed in the backseat.

They’re in Steve’s BMW now; his shoes and vest are still kinda damp and he’s gonna have to re-condition his leather jacket after the damn chlorine got to it, but that’s a problem for Future Eddie. “No college for you then? I honestly figured you’d be outta here as soon as you walked across that stage.” 

“I uh, didn’t get in.” Steve says, “Dad decided I should get a job at Scoops to teach me a lesson or something. As if I didn’t feel bad about not living up to his expectations enough already.”

Eddie doesn’t quite know what to say to that, but his silence seems to make Steve nervous. “It’s whatever though, I shouldn’t be dumping this all on you, sorry.”

“Hey man, it’s cool, sounds like King Harrington of Hawkins expected a lot of the Prince.” They’re turning into the Forest Hills trailer park now; Eddie has a fleeting thought about how he’s finally made it to where he’d been heading last night, and something about how a twist of fate (of feet?) diverted him to a whole new course he hadn’t expected, but was glad had happened.

Steve snorts, “Yeah, don’t think he appreciated the Prince parading around pretending to be King prematurely, huh?”

Eddie grins at him as the wheels crunch on the gravel pad outside his home. “A savior and a Prince is better than a King any day.”

He gets a grin in return, then it falls slightly as he glances up at the trailer. “Well, here you are, Munson. It was, uh, weird? But nice to meet you…Officially, anyway” he tacks onto the end, “Just don’t accidentally fall into my pool again.”

“Hmm, I dunno Stevie, it was nice to be pampered.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle up again when he laughs, “How would you rate your visit to Casa Harrington, sir? On a scale of four to five stars?”

“Hmmm.. probably a 4.7 out of five.”

“4.7?! Ouch Eds, that hurts.” Steve clutches a hand to his chest, “After all the waffles and wakeup calls,”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for those wakeup calls.”

“4.7…” he mutters again, shaking his head, “What would’ve given me a full five then?”

“Well you gotta lay off the wakeup calls for starters,” Eddie says, starting to count on his fingers, “More options for toppings at your waffle breakfast bar,”

“You had strawberries and chocolate syrup! What more do you need?!”

Eddie continues on as if he hadn’t heard him. “There was no lifeguard on duty, my towels weren’t warmed up for me, I believe I was promised a True Love’s kiss at some point and never got it, the concierge antagonized my uncle—”

He’s interrupted from his rant by a quick press of something to the corner of his mouth.

He whips his head around and Steve’s face is mere inches from his. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, his eyes are wide (and they’re hazel, how’d he not know that?!), “Did you just—”

“Eddie! Get your ass up here, now.” Wayne calls from the porch, causing them both to jump.

“Better get goin’ Eds.” Steve whispers, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, I–” he glances down at Steve’s lips, he has a few seconds, right? Enough time to—

“Eddie!” Nope.

His eyes stay trained on Steve’s nervous expression while his hand scrambles for the handle. He finally finds it, all but spills out of the car, and closes the door behind him once he’s out fully.

Without any more preamble, Steve backs out of their driveway, and leaves the park.

-🍦-

Steve doesn’t see Eddie for a couple weeks, wasn’t even sure Eddie would want to see him again after that stupid move he pulled, but when he finally does, it’s just before closing on a random Wednesday at Scoops.

“You missed, Harrington!” Eddie calls from the entrance to Scoops. He sounds like he’s out of breath.

“Eddie?”

“You missed!” he walks forward at a normal speed, despite seeming like he’d rushed to get here. He’s also shaking his finger at him, chiding.

“Where’ve you been, man?”

“Had to take care of the whole ‘evading arrest’ thing, but that’s not important. You missed Stevie.”

“Stevie?” he hears Robin mutter in disbelief.

“Missed what? I mean, yeah, I missed you too man, but what—?”

He’s cut off when Eddie finally reaches the counter, grabs his face in both hands, and kisses him square on the mouth.

Robin yelps in surprise, but that is the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. 

Eddie’s lips are chapped, but they slot along Steve’s so easy it makes his head spin.

After forever and no time at all, Eddie pulls back, dropping back to his side of the counter. “There. A real lips to lips kiss. None of that sly cheek shit, Harrington.”

Steve’s still a bit dazed, “Much better than the first one.” He leans closer to Eddie again, lips searching, but he’s held still.

“Whattya mean, ‘the first one’?”

It clears his head a bit, “Uh, the one where I saved your life? Obviously.”

“That doesn’t count!” Eddie’s hands leave his face, and he misses them already.

“It was lips to lips! Isn’t that what you just said?”

“It was CPR, Steven!”

“I can count it as our first kiss if I want to, Edward.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest.

“My name’s not Edwa—”

The long squeal of marker-on-whiteboard cuts him off, and he immediately flushes red.

Oh yeah, Robin…aw fuck.

He turns slowly to the window behind the counter; a single tally mark has been drawn into the left side of Robin’s YOU RULE / YOU SUCK board.

She caps the marker, sets it down, smirks, and says “Congratulations, Dingus.”

this is also on AO3!

tagging a few of the people in the tags of the original who seemed interested in more! hope that's okay!!!

@inthewychelm @tboyeddie @brbsoulnomming @henderdads @ajs624 @sleepy-steve @eddiesdoeeyes @steddie-island @themeanderingty @hammity-hammer @spicysix @steddieasitgoes @willowworkswithwords @farahsamboolents @shares-a-vest @klausinamarink @fortheloveofgodletmein @sharpbutsoft @perseus-notjackson @zombiethingy @tchackdaw @eddiethehunted @smoothiecas @donttellunclesam @allyricas @living-force @xandriumbat @himbosandhardwear @everything-is-the-answer @sidebarre @m-owo-n @warmsole @occasionaloverboy @whoopssteddiefeels @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @extra-transitional @cecil5683 @makeadealwithdean @huymadovan

[swanimagines]

A MISTAKE | KAZ BREKKER

Summary: Imagine doing an unsuccessful heist and Kaz taking it out on you.

The heist hadn't gone as planned. It was no one's fault, you had just been incredibly unlucky, but Kaz was still enraged at everyone and looking for a guilty one, accusing everyone on their turn before you stepped in.

"Kaz, stop it." You sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself. "We could have done nothing otherwise. Sometimes these things happen, it isn't anyone's fault. You made a brilliant plan, we all tried to follow it-"

"No," Kaz grumbled, glaring at you in turn. "A mistake like this can't happen without someone taking responsibility. You weren't much of an use either, or what were you doing there at the hallway when guards were rushing towards us? We could have hid, but you gave us away before we could. I blame you all the same for this failure!" He shouted, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Your face dropped at Kaz's words and you took a step back from him. His hands clenched around his cane as he glared at you.

"I didn't do anything wrong," you mumbled, trying to hold his gaze.

He snorted and turned away from you. "Yes, you did. This wasn't your first job, so why the hell did you think you could get away with going solo there?!"

You rolled your eyes, clenching your jaw. "I had to! They could have reached us and killed us all if I didn't slow them down!"

Kaz scoffed. "If you would have followed the plan, we could have had an opportunity to hide!"

"No," you shook your head quickly. "They knew exactly where we were, they would have surrounded us and either imprisoned us or killed us! For your information, I saved our lives so thank you so much for your fucking gratitude!"

"Kaz, they're right, we could have-" Jesper tried to intervene but Kaz interrupted him.

"This is between me and them, keep your mouth shut!" Kaz growled.

"Hey, let's just all take some time to calm down." Wylan murmured as he carefully approached you but Kaz still hadn't stopped.

"You're of no use," he snarled at you. "We don't need people like you during heists, maybe you should take up the broom instead or stay in your room, out of sight."

"Kaz!" Inej scolded him while the rest of the Crows stood dumbfounded, staring at Kaz in shock.

Your eyes became glossy, tears threatening to spill over. But Kaz still didn't seem to care. So you turned around and sprinted towards the Slat, letting the cold wind bite your face as your tears finally began cascading over your cheeks.

The Crows stood there for a while, seeing you disappearing to the crowd. Then they all laid disappointed looks at Kaz.

"Happy now?" Nina sighed and started walking faster, with no doubt of wanting to offer a listening ear for your once again broken heart.

They all knew you both had feelings for each other, but you didn't deserve to be treated like this by him. Kaz was usually cool and collected, but his conflicted feelings for you merged with frustration was never pretty to watch. But this was something worse than your usual bickerings, and Inej noticed the slight flash of regret in Kaz's eyes. He hid it incredibly well, but it was still there. She'd pop by his window in the morning and talk him into apologising to you like so many times before - you deserved to know he still cared about you, even when you had fights like these. She was just concerned about how many fights would you take before giving up on him...

---

Inej's presence floated in the air early in the morning. Sun had barely risen, and Kaz had once again stayed awake the whole night. You had usually made him sleep a little, even take a nap. Telling him his brains would be able to work harder if he slept and he wouldn't feel so frustrated.

But yesterday, from obvious reasons, you hadn't come to talk him into going into bed for a little while. It had felt weird, but Kaz knew the reason. Nina had taken food with her at the evening and headed towards your room, laying a glare at Kaz as she passed him but didn't say anything.

Kaz had sensed Inej long before the shadow passed his desk and Inej's soft steps approached him.

"Kaz," she sighed. "You owe them an apology."

Kaz ignored her. "What time is it?"

"Early."

"Is anyone else awake yet? We need to start working on a new plan."

"No. We need to talk about your fight yesterday with a certain Dreg."

"Why?" Kaz asked, irritated.

"When will you go and apologise to them?"

"There's nothing to apologise for."

"You had them cry in Nina's arms for an hour. Nina had to help them to fall asleep. So yes, you do have something to apologise for."

"It's fine, Inej."

"I'm serious, Kaz."

"They'll get over it."

"If you want them to hate you forever."

"They already hate me," Kaz muttered.

Inej sighed, staring at Kaz for a moment. Kaz ignored her accusatory look and just continued working with the plan. Suddenly, Inej's hand appeared on his way.

"Saints, Kaz!" she exclaimed suddenly and Kaz's eyes met hers for the first time today. "You need to think about their feelings for once."

"I don't have time to think about whether someone gets hurt from things I say, in the Barrel, you have to be tough and if you aren't, you're screwed." He huffed.

Inej sighed. "We all know you care about them more than you care about the rest of us. We know you have feelings for them."

Kaz paused then, letting a long breath through his nose. "I don't have feelings for them."

"You do. We all have seen how you look at each other. Nina has heard your heart when you look at them. You both are just so stubborn and won't act for it. It's getting ridiculous."

"It's not like that."

"You say it's not like that, but still everything points the other way."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Kaz growled, his fingers tapping the desk.

Inej groaned. "Kaz, you know you want to go to apologise. Swallow your pride for once.."

He huffed. "Dirtyhands being soft for someone doesn't fit the picture."

Inej laughed and rolled her eyes. "I know that while living in the Barrel and being a crime boss, it's necessary. But I know you. This is just petty, and you don't want to lose them. Go apologise. Or I'll drag you there."

Kaz looked at Inej for a moment longer before he took a big breath in and stood up. "Fine," he grumbled, "I'll go talk to them."

---

Kaz didn't know how long exactly he had stood in front of your room. He couldn't help but think that you would be too angry at him to speak - and Inej's claim of you having feelings for him.

It wasn't possible. Kaz's feelings for you were hardly possible, so yours would be even less. And you'd deserve someone better than him anyway.

Kaz tried to convince himself of this, but a little voice echoed at the back of his head.

What if they do like you back?

He stared at your door for a moment longer before finally bringing himself to knock.

A groan was heard and then your groggy voice, "Coming..."

The door opened and Kaz's heart started to beat faster the moment he saw you. You squinted your eyes at the light and when you recognised him, your expression immediately transformed into a scowl.

"What do you want?" you snapped, your hands on your hips and your hair messy from sleep.

Kaz opened his mouth but then shut it again. You were angry, he was sorry but he didn't know how to word it. He sighed.

"I thought we should talk this through," he finally said, taking a step forward.

You didn't say anything and just stared at him for a moment. "Oh, mighty Dirtyhands wants to talk now."

Kaz groaned and was quiet for a moment. "I owe you... an apology."

"I don't want to hear it," you said and attempted to slam the door shut, but Kaz got his cane between it and pushed himself inside to your room.

"We need to talk," Kaz said, moving his cane into your way again. "And I won't leave until we do."

"Stop that," you snapped.

"Why?"

"Because I'm trying to be mad at you."

Kaz bit back a smile at that. "If you want to be mad at me, you need to have a proper reason for it."

You huffed and crossed your arms. "Fine, then talk."

Kaz sighed and laid his gaze on his hands gripping the cane. "What I said last night was needless and inconsiderate. I..." He clenched his jaw and cast his eyes downwards for a moment, and then met your eyes again and continued. "I apologise for it."

He glanced up at you, expecting to still see your anger, but instead, your expression was confused.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that."

Kaz smirked at your confusion. "I know how to be an asshole, but I'm trying to be a good boss, too."

You chuckled. "I've gotten used to you being an asshole even when I know you care about me- care about us, I mean, so... it's weird to hear you apologise."

Kaz huffed with a small smile, his heart thudding. He smiled at you, and you were smiling too, and he felt his heart jump at that.

"Have you slept at all last night?" you asked him.

Kaz shook his head. "No. I had work."

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Work can wait, you go have a nap right now."

You opened the door for him, and you began ascending the stairs together. Kaz smirked at your order. "And if I won't?"

You laughed. "I'll knock you out and drag you to bed. Your call."

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[hollybell51]

Last night on Earth

^don't mind me going absolutely feral over this gif

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Cas x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005), s05e03 "free to be you and me"

Word count: 6.4K

Summary: following the hooker failure, you feel that sitting alone in a shitty abandoned house is not the best way to spend one's last night on Earth. Cas seems to agree with you.

Content: smut! Yay! First kisses, first time, making out, handjobs, hickeys, penetrative sex, safe sex (yay!), cowgirl, mutual masturbation, fingering, gags? if you squint? maybe? like a hand over the mouth. Discussions of sex work and sex workers (I'm not commenting on anything, it's just there as dialogue due to the nature of the episode, and all dialogue/internal monologue regarding the topic is purely for the furtherment of the plot). Talking during sex, Cas is loud. Sex on a couch, spooning, almost-love-confessions ("like-confessions"). Very light comment on body image, some very vague descriptions of scars (reader is a hunter). Cas is just Cas and I love him for it. He's also a virgin. Dean's probably a warning but I adore him.

Notes: Heyyyy how's it going? One day into my holidays and I churn out this bad boy. Couldn't get the idea out of my head, and hey, I'm a sucker for virgin angels. This show is rapidly taking over my whole life lmao.

It's also been a while so I just thought I'd remind people of the taglist form, and the existence of my AO3 (if you wanna read my stuff there for whatever reason). Anyways enjoy, stay safe out there xx

“That was quick,” you called as the door creaked open, Dean’s low chuckle echoing through the hallway. You closed the book you’d been reading – a shitty paperback you’d picked out of a bargain bin – and watched as the other hunter dropped his jacket onto a rusted dining chair. You’d expected them to be gone for a few hours, hence your foray into the realms of “downtime”, but it had barely been one since they’d left, Dean throwing an obscenely enthusiastic wink your way as he shoved an apprehensive looking Cas out to enjoy his last night on Earth. 

“We had to wrap it up pretty fast.” Dean glanced over his shoulder at Cas, laughter still clinging to his face. You hadn’t seen him look that happy in ages, not for this long. Well, that was something at least. 

You’d had your doubts about the whole idea from the moment Dean had mentioned it. Sure, sex was sex. It was something that could be pretty darn nice and that you were glad for in your life, but you weren’t sure if Dean fully grasped that it was never the same with a hooker. It would never feel as good, it would never be meaningful, it would be a service purchased from a provider. A business transaction. That wasn’t any way to experience it for the first time, in your opinion. 

“Good time not a long time, then?” you asked mildly. 

“Would you say that, Cas?” 

The angel stiffened, hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat. 

You wrinkled your nose, suddenly wondering if you should feel bad. “Bad time?” 

Dean snorted. “I’m turning in. You tell (Y/N) about it, she’ll give you a pat on the back and tell you it’s alright. And don’t look so… grief stricken.” 

“G’night,” you waved to his retreating back, then turned back to Cas. “Really bad time?” 

He really did look grief stricken, standing stock still in the dimness. Even his hair looked droopier than usual, and you almost got out of your seat just to push it off his face. You settled for putting your book down and leaning forward. 

“She ran away,” he said after a moment. “I think I scared her.” 

“Geez,” you frowned. “How’d you scare a hooker?” 

He shrugged. “I told her it wasn’t her fault that her father Gene ran off.” Then, as if it explained everything; “He hated his job at the post office.” 

You laughed, but stopped quickly. “Oh, Cas. You know the whole–” 

“The whole industry is run on absent fathers, I know.” He sighed. “Dean found it hilarious.” 

This time, you did get up, crossing the room to pat his shoulder. You knew Dean wouldn’t have meant anything by it, wouldn’t have been laughing at Cas. Still, a pang of what was almost pity shot through you. It wasn’t about the sex, not really, as much as Dean played that aspect up. It was more all the coulds that never would. Cas wasn’t human, as much as he could pass it off (mostly), but there were so many things that he wasn’t going to get to try now. You just didn’t understand how he could so casually volunteer to die at the drop of a hat. It was either incredibly selfless, or incredibly selfish. Or maybe just stupid. 

But no, Cas wasn’t stupid. He was razor sharp, a soldier of God, even if you poked fun at him when he didn’t understand your and Dean’s pop-culture reference infused slang. It had only been the last time you’d seen him that you’d vowed to make him sit through all the Star Wars movies, something you hadn’t realised until afterwards had sounded a lot like a “movie and chill” proposal. Luckily, he wouldn’t have picked up on that. Just like he wouldn’t have picked up – like Dean had – the moments where you caught yourself watching him, or the smiles that were just too damned determined to break out on your face when he showed up – either in the real world or in your mind. And thank the heavens nobody but you noticed the tiny flurries of butterflies in your stomach you’d noticed increasingly often when he was around, the surges of warmth that would sneak up and rush over you unexpectedly when you thought of him, the tingles that flooded your skin when he stood that little bit too close to you.  

Which, when you thought about it, was maybe contributing to the ounce of vindication you were feeling regarding the hooker failure. It wasn’t all the “I told you so” type of satisfaction, anyway, and you weren’t too proud to admit when you liked someone. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him now, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

“You’re giving me a pat on the back and telling me it’s alright,” he sighed, almost mournfully. “Dean said–” 

You reached up, pressing a finger to his lips and shaking your head. “You wanna know something?” 

He nodded, brows furrowed. He hadn’t drawn back, you noticed. 

“It doesn’t matter how much sex Dean has,” you whispered, hand still floating close by his face. “I wouldn’t take a damn letter of his advice in that department.” 

“Why not?” His breath tickled your skin, and suddenly you realised just how close you were standing. 

You shrugged, dispelling the shiver that had run up your spine. “I just know if a dude came onto me how he comes onto chicks, I’d kick him in the balls.” 

“I’ll make a point to not come onto you like he does, in that case.” 

It took a moment – past the words “like he does”, not that he wouldn’t come onto you full stop, but like Dean does – for the fact that it was a joke to sink in, then you smiled. Maybe there was, or had been, hope for him yet. You took a breath, turning the words over in your mind. It was now or never, you supposed. 

“I want you to know,” you said carefully, “if you die–” 

“When. Tomorrow, when I die.” 

“Uh, yeah.” You swallowed. How could he be so matter of fact about it? How could he just say it like that? It didn’t matter, you supposed. Whether he said it or didn’t, it wasn’t going to change the fact that it was happening. 

“When I die…” he prompted when you were silent. 

“I want you to know that I liked you,” you said simply, then shrugged. “I think I was on the way to really liking you.” 

He frowned, and for a moment you thought you’d made a massive mistake. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I don’t mind. I know I’m… a dick.” 

“Jesus, Cas,” you snorted. “Guess we say that a bit too much, don’t we?” 

“Maybe.” 

“And we don’t say ‘thank you’ enough.” 

He shook his head, still holding your hand. “You don’t have to do this,” he repeated.

“It’s not about that. Not all of it, anyway.” You smiled, glancing at your hand where it met his. It looked big, wrapped around your fingers, and it fitted painfully well. “But, you know, if it’s your last night on Earth…” You looked up, wiggling your eyebrows. You could play it off as a joke if you needed to, you weren’t too far in yet. 

That familiar almost-smile you’d come to look for danced over his lips. “You pity me, dying a virgin? Dying,” he added. “A virgin.” 

You laughed. “I don’t… pity you. Not exactly. Not because you’re gonna die a virgin, and definitely not because you’re a virgin.” 

“Because I scared away a prostitute?” 

“Her loss,” you laughed. “And anyway, if it’s your first and last time, it’d be nice to… y’know… feel good.” 

He frowned. “Surely a prostitute would know how to do that?”

“Maybe the technicalities,” you shrugged, “but there’s more to it than that. There’s feelings, y’know?” 

“Feelings?” 

Again, you shrugged, suddenly self conscious. What were you doing? “Two way street kind of thing,” you explained lamely. “Not just someone you want, but someone who wants you. Not just your money.” You were acutely aware of the unspoken words floating beneath the casual sentence. I want you. It could be me.

A pause, where his eyes seemed to bore into your soul. He had a knack for that, you’d noticed. Sometimes you felt like he could see right to the very core of your being. In the dimness, they looked even more startlingly blue than usual. He was so close, you could almost count his eyelashes, almost feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath the coat, jacket, shirt, tie… 

“When it’s…” He paused, his tongue darting over his lips. God, his lips. “Someone you want.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Someone who wants you.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Not just your money.” 

You hadn’t taken your eyes off his mouth through the whole exchange, and your voice, when you asked, sounded softer than you’d meant it to, breathy and faint to your own ears. “Do you want me, Cas? Last night on Earth, and all.” 

The corner of his mouth curled up, brows twitching into a thoughtful frown. No, you thought, not quite a frown. Something else, more curious than confused. Almost quizzical. “I think…” He paused, drawing breath. “I think I do.” 

“Ok,” you smiled, ignoring the butterfly rampage taking place in your stomach. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen in real life. Not your life, anyway, even if it was Cas’s last night on Earth. It didn’t exist outside the pages of those shitty paperbacks. 

“Do you want me?” Cas asked. 

“Mhm.” It was all you could manage, really. Then you were stretching up the last few inches between your face and his, pressing your lips gently against his own. 

He was perfectly still for a heartbeat, two heartbeats, almost three. Then his hand tightened around yours and he pulled you closer, trench coat rustling where your chest met it. He kissed you the way you remembered the first boy who’d ever kissed you – a boy in your year level at school, at a party, playing spin the bottle no less – had kissed you. The want was all there, the enthusiasm and anticipation and the only half-conscious desire for more. His lips remained shut, but you could feel in it that he knew it wasn’t quite right. 

You pulled away briefly, just enough to raise a hand to his mouth and run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Like this,” you murmured, pushing just enough to part his lips. Then your hands were in his hair and you were pulling him down to you, and this time it was perfect. 

He made a little sound of pleasure as your tongue slipped beside his, stroking, caressing, gently as you could. Without any guidance, his hand had found the cloth-shielded contours of your breast, tracing the outline with a sort of awe. His fingers ran along the neckline of your top, dipping under the material, curving around your bare shoulder, exploratory and cautious. 

You let him explore you, his hands mapping out every curve he could touch, tongue darting into every uncharted depth he could find, tasting and learning and discovering parts of you you hadn’t guessed could be felt like this through just a kiss. Your mind spiralled as his hand eased under your shirt, cool fingers tickling the skin of your hip. He squeezed gently, pulling you against him harder, and you gave in completely. You weren’t sure if it was what he had been going for, but when you pushed your pelvis against his he gasped; a quiet, shuddering little sound that went straight to your panties. 

“Ok?” you breathed between kisses, then, at his nod, you did it again. 

His voice was strangled when he said your name, the pads of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist. Oh Cas, you thought. A rush of affection washed over you at how eager he was, where just an hour before he’d been being literally pushed out the door by Dean, looking as terrified as you’d ever seen him at the prospect of sex. Now he was kissing you hungrily, kneading at your skin, inching your shirt up off your torso, his feet at risk of tangling with yours as he walked you backwards. Not to mention the increasingly noticeable bulge pressed against you. 

“Clothes off,” you breathed, already undoing his tie. “On the couch.” 

He paused, then he was shrugging off the trench coat, the blazer following suit – no pun intended – and landing with a soft rustling thump on the floor. You stepped back, just a little, as he deftly unfastened the buttons of his shirt, drinking in every inch of skin like a kid in a lolly shop. Fuck, maybe you had the hots for him even worse than you’d thought. 

“Are you going to undress too?” The question was mild, matter of fact, but something in the way Cas had paused midway through relieving himself of his pants and was watching you, hands still on the belt buckle, made you stomach flip. 

You cleared your throat, but your voice still came out too low, too husky. “Sure.” 

His gaze didn’t leave you for an instant – apart from when he kicked his discarded trousers aside – as you pulled your shirt the rest of the way over your head, slid your jeans as gracefully as you could down your legs. You shivered slightly in the cool night air, acutely aware of your hunter’s body. 

Cas’s eyes widened, scanning over you and taking in every inch of your skin. It wasn’t perfect, you were aware of that. It wasn’t like a hooker’s body, it carried you around as you fought monsters, and was littered with the proof of said monster fights. You wondered if Cas had seen other – normal – human bodies like this, if he’d find the painfully obvious reminders of your mortality somehow repellent. You suddenly felt very, very small and very, very human. 

“Sorry about… y’know…” You shrugged, patting your thigh awkwardly. “The meatsack’s a little dinged up. Most people don’t look like this.” 

“Don’t look like what?” he frowned, finally looking back at your face. 

You shrugged again, poking a long white scar over your side. The first werewolf you’d ever come face to face with, and nearly the last. “Scarred. At least not as much as I am,” you added. 

A shiver shot up your spine as Cas settled his hands on your bare waist, fingers running over the most noticeable marks. “Don’t apologise,” he said softly. “You’re human, and you spend your days killing monsters. It would be more disturbing if you were unblemished.” 

You laughed at that, a small breathy sound. “You think I’m disturbing?” 

He smiled faintly. “You’re not so bad.”

You felt your own mouth curve, matching his. “Neither are you.” 

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours once more. This kiss was softer, more intimate, maybe a little too intimate. You were vaguely aware of the couch behind you. Before your knees knocked against its side, you broke away – a difficult task, given that Cas chased your lips like a lab rat after cheese – and spun, laying your hands firmly on his chest. 

“Couch,” you muttered, giving a gentle push. 

He pulled you with him as he sat down, his hands running down over your hips, your thighs, back up again to your waist. He watched you carefully as his touch slid up the centre of your torso, over your bra, lingering momentarily on the anti-possession sigil tattooed over your heart before he moved on, across the line of your ribs. Unbidden, the memory of the last time he’d touched you there sprang to mind; the sharp, burning pain and throbbing after-ache of the Enochian sigils being literally carved into your bones. 

“I can see them,” he whispered, as if he’d read your mind. “The sigils.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “How do they look?” 

“Foreign,” he said after a moment. “They don’t belong.”

You shrugged, unsure how to respond to that. Sure, the sigils weren’t part of you, and you didn’t exactly know how you felt about angel writing being carved into your ribcage, but there was also something reassuring about knowing it was there, knowing you carried that kind of magic with you. In you. 

Cas’s eyes lifted from your body, fixing on your own. “Can you feel them?” he inquired. 

You shook your head. “Not really. Not physically. But I know they’re there.” 

“Perhaps I should have asked,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s your body, after all.” 

“No,” you smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I kinda like the idea of you scribbling on me. Bone graffiti.” 

“Bone graffiti?” 

You felt the smile grow, nodding. “Besides,” you added, “I’ll always have a little bit of you, even after you're gone. Like a… souvenir.” 

“Oh,” was all he said. You supposed people were right about impending death making people sappier. But still, what you said was true. Your own ribs had become a kind of lucky charm, a talisman, a locket of sorts. 

You dragged yourself out of that line of thinking before you went any further, turning your attention back to the angel currently underneath you on the couch. Underneath you and very shirtless. You’d placed your own hands on his chest in an attempt to not fall over on top of him, and now you let yourself touch him – really touch him. His chest heaved under your fingers as you swept over him, a tiny, strangled noise falling from his lips. 

“Alright?” you asked, pausing for a moment. 

He nodded, shifting slightly under you. “It’s good,” he said softly. 

“Keep going?” 

Again, a nod. Cautiously, gently, you spread your fingers over his chest. His heart beat fast, thudding frantically as you moved your other hand lower, down the centre of his torso, following the contours of his lithe muscles. You reached the waistband of his underpants, pausing. 

“Can I?” you asked, your hand hovering over his barely concealed erection. 

“Yes,” he whispered, tongue darting over his lips. His eyes flicked from your face to your hand, back to your face again. 

You smiled as you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. His dick was hot to the touch, hard and already damp at the tip. “You ever touched yourself?” you asked as you withdrew your hand, spitting into your palm. 

Cas’s breath hitched. “Once.” 

“Yeah?” 

He nodded, licking his lips again. “Dean said I wasn’t supposed to talk about it.” 

“Yeah, well…” You smiled again, wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking languidly. “You can tell me.” 

He gave a sort of half gasp, half moan, his grip tightening on your thigh. “I found Dean’s magazine,” he confessed. “The one with the women, not the cars.” 

“Mhm?” You kept your voice mild, focussing on the steady motion of your arm and wrist, your fingers sliding effortlessly over him. You could almost see Cas flipping through the pages of one of those god-awful porn mags Dean insisted on carting around, picture his confused little head-tilt and his frown as he looked through the pictures, his hand creeping to where yours was now, his much larger fingers circling–

“It was uncomfortable,” he continued, jerking you back to the present. “Too hot. I really just wanted it to go away.” 

“And did it?” 

“Not until I– oh!” He broke off as your thumb slid over the leaking head of his cock, fingers digging into your thigh. 

You fought off the surge of heat the sound sent shooting through you, watching his slightly parted lips, his wide eyes. “Did you cum?” you asked evenly. 

“Yes,” he panted, hips twitching up slightly. “Oh, (Y/N), yes–” 

“Yes, you did cum?” 

“Yes, yes I did.” 

“Was it good?” 

Another soft moan, then he smiled. “Not as good as this.” 

Maybe it was the praise, maybe the moan, maybe the smile. Either way, the words went straight to your panties. You ignored it, stopping yourself from grinding against him with willpower that would have impressed Jesus. Although, you weren’t sure how he would have felt about you fucking a literal angel. 

You leant forward, kissing his lips gently, then his jaw, then his neck, then his chest. You kept going, tracing a path inexorably downwards, shuffling backwards to straddle his thigh as he shifted with you, now splayed along the couch lengthways. 

“Help me out,” you muttered, your hand moving beside your face as you attempted to pull his underwear off. Obediently, he lifted his hips and kicked them aside, the muscles of his stomach twitching as you placed a kiss on the junction of his hip. And holy shit, you could have just watched his torso moving like that forever. You kissed his hip again, sucking gently at the spot, licking over the mark you conjured. Then you added another beside it, and another, and another. A little belt of hickeys across his pelvis. 

“Do you, hm, touch yourself too?” he asked, breathless and raw. 

“Fuck, Cas.” You paused where you’d been about to kiss the base of his cock, raising your eyes to his. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell again, the skin almost glowing in the dim light. 

He frowned. “Am I not supposed to ask that?” 

“You can ask me anything you want,” you assured him, kissing the little trail of hair below his belly button. “And yeah, I do.” 

“Does it feel good?” 

You smiled. “Yeah.” 

“Do you…” He paused, searching for the words. “Do you want to do it now?” 

“This is about you,” you said softly, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about me.” 

“I want you to feel good too.” 

You sat up, studying him. There was nothing by sincerity in his eyes, the genuine desire – and desire there was – for you to enjoy yourself. And why shouldn’t you indulge that? You were having a great time as it was, and there was no denying the throbbing ache that had grown exponentially between your legs. 

“You want me to touch myself?” you asked, double checking. 

He nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Ok.” You shed your own underpants, shivering as the cool air came in contact with your wetness. Slowly, you reached down and ran your finger over your clit, your breath hitching in your chest. You repeated the action, your hand moving further down to circle your entrance, slick gathering on your fingers. You’d done this countless times before, and you weren’t ashamed of it. Masturbation was natural, it was a perfectly normal perfectly human thing to do. This, however was different. You’d never had an audience before, never had anyone watch you with such rapt wonder and awe. 

Cas’s eyes flicked down to your bra, then back to your face. A question, almost a request. 

“Off?” you asked, already reaching behind your back. He nodded, watching carefully as you shed the garment and cast it aside to join the pile of clothes on the floor. Slowly, reverently, he stretched up and kissed your breast, his hand leaving its place on your hip to trace over the other one. 

A shiver ran down your spine and you bit down on your lip, attempting futilely to stifle your moan. Absently, your hand resumed its place between your thighs as Cas’s hand left your chest and found its way to his cock. You’d never in a million years have thought you’d be where you were now; touching yourself on top of an angel touching himself while he did his best to turn your chest into one giant hickey. You were hardly complaining. 

Something rustled in the next room over, and you both froze. Fuck, you thought. Dean was still (hopefully) asleep, only the wall and the hastily closed door to that room barring him from hearing you. Cas seemed to have had exactly the same thought, his head tilted slightly as he listened, his breath raising goosebumps on the spit-damp skin of your chest. There was another rustle, then a quiet snort, then nothing. He hadn’t woken, then. 

“We gotta be quiet,” you whispered. You shifted, biting back another moan. “Ok?” 

“Ok,” Cas nodded. He pressed his lips firmly together, eyes flicking down to where your hand disappeared between your legs. You hissed as you resumed your movement, acutely aware of every possible sound you or Cas made, ears pricked for any other disturbance from nextdoor. 

Cas’s free hand was still resting on your thigh, firmly holding you in place on top of himself. His wrist brushed your own with every stroke of his cock, the skin over his stomach and chest twitching ever so slightly. His own thigh tensed as he thrust into his hand, something that you could only describe as a whimper falling from his lips. Heat surged over you, your mind awash with desire. If only that hooker knew what she was missing. 

“Sorry,” he muttered almost immediately, eyes darting towards the door. 

“‘Salright,” you replied, swallowing hard. Being quiet was a much more difficult task than you’d anticipated, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the possibility of being caught just a little bit. You grunted softly as your finger brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, the familiar rhythm and movements working just as well as ever, and even better when you had Cas to look at. Not to mention the warmth of his mouth where it occasionally found your breasts again. 

But you wanted more, you needed more. The same part of you that was electrified by your own touch craved his, especially when his beautiful hands were right there and his eyes were still fixed on you like you were the centre of the universe, his own movements becoming faster and more frantic, chest heaving. 

You paused, much as it pained you. “Do you wanna go further?” 

He frowned. “What do you mean?” 

Gently, you laid your hand over his and peeled it away from his cock. Wriggling forwards a little, you finally – finally – rocked your hips over his, revelling in the hot hardness of him against your slick. His mouth fell open, fingers tightening on your own. 

“Here, Cas. I want you inside me, wanna fuck you properly.” 

“Oh, (Y/N),” he sighed, his own hips matching your movement. 

“Will you let me? Let me fuck you?” 

“Yes,” he nodded. “Yes, of course.” 

You smiled. “Ok, one second.” You reached over the side of the couch, digging through the pockets of your jeans until you found your wallet – and the little foil package inside it. 

“What are you doing?” Cas asked as you tore it open and set the latex atop his dick. 

“It’s a condom,” you explained. “So I don’t get pregnant. No offence,” you grinned, “but I don’t really wanna have your babies any time soon.” 

“Oh.” He swallowed, processing. “That’s… understandable.”

“All good?” At his nod, you slid the condom the rest of the way down, spitting into your hand once more and resuming your earlier ministrations. “It feels a little different, I know,” you whispered as you moved to grind against him once more. 

“It’s still good,” he assured you, placing his hands gently on your hips. 

You smiled. “Ready?” 

“Yes.” The word was a breath, nothing more, but it was all you needed. Carefully, you lined him up and sank down, watching his face carefully. His eyes widened, his fingers digging into your flesh slightly as a deep groan reverberated through the space between you. 

“Gotta be quiet,” you reminded him, your voice not half as steady as you’d have liked. “Don’t wanna wake Dean up, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he echoed, “quiet.” 

You leaned forwards and placed a soft kiss on his lips, rocking your hips over his. He was everything you’d imagined and so much more. It was like he’d been made for you, the way his cock stroked every inch of your insides, sliding smoothly with how wet you were. You wanted to go back in time and kick your past self for having waited this long. 

“God, Cas,” you sighed. “Oh God.” 

His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he stretched up and captured your lips with his, moving down over your jaw to your neck, sucking gently just as you’d done to the skin of his hip. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close against you as you lifted and lowered your hips, a faint whine somehow slipping from your lips despite your best efforts. 

“Is this, hm, ok?” he asked, his usually gravelly voice made even more so. 

“Fuck,” you gasped as his hand came to rest on your ass, kneading at the soft flesh, moving up over the front of your hips where your leg met the rest of your body. “So good, Cas.” 

“You’re so good,” he murmured, guiding your movements gently. He thrust into you, his hips meeting yours halfway, stomach muscles flexing.

“Let me,” you said, pushing him backwards into the couch cushions. “You relax, yeah? I’ve got it. I’ve got you.” 

He nodded, head tipping back as you bounced on his dick, the rough fabric of the cushion beneath you scratching at your knees. Fumbling slightly, your hands found purchase on his chest and you locked your elbows in an odd sort of imitation of CPR. If CPR was done from the front rather than the side, you supposed, but you weren’t exactly doing any resuscitation. 

His chest heaved under your touch, another low groan seeming to echo in the otherwise stillness of the night. The tiny part of your brain that wasn’t totally consumed with the wonderful pleasure-ache of his cock hitting deep inside you and the burn of your thighs was torn between telling him to be quiet and just listening to him, but then he was licking his lips again and his mouth was falling open and you were lost. 

“(Y/N),” he panted, his eyes fixed on your face. “Oh, (Y/N), oh my–” 

“Alright?” you asked, biting back a moan as you found a particularly good angle. 

“Yes, yes, of course. It’s, hm, so good.” He glanced momentarily down at where your body met his, another groan rumbling in his chest. 

“Sh–” you whispered, half tempted to press your hand over his mouth. Or maybe your own, given the struggle you were facing to remain quiet yourself. 

“Sorry, sorry I–” 

You cut him off quickly. “It’s alright Cas, you’re fine. Just, fuck–” 

“(Y/N),” he panted, the muscles of his arms and stomach flexing as his fingers gripped the couch cushion, luminescent in the dimness. Again, his eyes flicked downwards, this time to the soft mound of flesh currently on display. 

You smiled, reaching down to take his hand, drawing it up to rest over your pelvis. His skin was warmer than you’d ever felt it, faintly clammy and God his hand was big under your own. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d caught yourself picturing his hands in this kind of context, and you didn’t want to try. His fingers splayed over your skin, moving with you, covering the whole space below your naval. 

“That’s where you are,” you panted. “That’s where I can feel you, Cas, right there.” 

A small, strained noise you could only describe as a whine. “Is it, ah, good? Do you like it? Do you like feeling… me?” 

“Fuck,” you sighed. “Yeah, sure do, Cas. Do you like feeling me?” 

He smiled, biting down hard on his lower lip. “Of course. I like it immensely.” 

You felt yourself clench at his words, and this time you were unable to restrain the downright pornographic moan that tore from your throat. Any other time, you might have been embarrassed, but Cas seemed to like it. Pressing your lips firmly together, you glanced hastily towards the other room, but as far as you could tell there was no disturbance. 

“(Y/N), oh, (Y/N), I don’t think—” He swallowed hard, eyes wide and back on your face. 

“Yeah? What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t— I don’t think I can be quiet, (Y/N) I—”

Affection bloomed alongside the desire in your gut, and you had half a mind to tell him it was alright, he didn’t even have to worry about being quiet at all. It wasn’t like you didn’t love the noises he was making. But Dean was only one room over, and you didn’t want to wake him. 

“You can, Cas,” you breathed, “you can. You’re doing so well already, we just gotta— fuck.”

He’d bucked his hips up into you, the movement jolting the steady knot of pleasure forming low in your stomach. He was close, you could see it as much as hear it, but the thought of the thin walls and your friend sleeping in the next room over had taken root more firmly in your mind now. 

“It’s so much,” Cas gasped. “Oh, oh, (Y/N) it’s so much—”

You managed a smile, slowing down your movements a little. “I know,” you said softly. “You’re ok, yeah?” 

He nodded frantically. “Hm, yes, yes. Please, don’t stop. Keep going, please—” 

Another soft moan slipped from your mouth, Cas’s answering groan enough to make your legs shake. It was too loud, and any other time you’d have soaked up his praises and curses and everything, but not now. After a moment’s hesitation, you clamped your hand firmly over his mouth, sh-ing him gently. If possible, his eyes widened even further and he groaned against your skin. 

“Alright?” you breathed. 

Another frantic nod, an almost-whimper as your grip firmed up. Well I’ll be damned, you thought vaguely. Who’d have guessed he was into that? 

You felt him shiver all over as you continued to rock your hips over his, his hand where it rested on your hip tightening. You wondered if you’d have finger-shaped bruises later. It didn’t matter, you told yourself as he moaned again, his stomach muscles tensing, something that could have been your name squashed under your hand. 

“Sh, shh!” you gasped. Between holy shit I’m so close and holy shit he’s so close, the thought that Dean was right there and would hear you was still rooted in your mind. “Cas, sh, Dean’s right– ah, fuck, Dean’s–” 

You broke off as Cas’s chest heaved, his hips bucking up into you once more. His mouth had fallen open under your hand and he was gasping something, angel curse-words, maybe? It didn’t matter, not when his eyes were screwed shut and his head was tipped back, your name sprinkled into the litany of foreign words like a prayer. 

The sight was enough to make the bomb that had been building in your stomach explode, sparks of pleasure shooting through your aching legs right to your toes and back up again. You might have said Cas’s name, you weren’t sure, but the sentiment was there. You clamped a hand over your own mouth, nothing but the need to be quiet reverberating through your pleasure-blanked mind. 

After what felt like an age, your brain managed to find its way back into your skull and the aftershocks of your orgasm faded from your body. Gently, you removed your hand from Cas’s mouth and looked down at him, smiling. 

“Alright?” you asked. 

His hair was a mess, his brow lightly beaded with sweat, cheeks flushed. There was even a slight red mark where your hand had been, which you stroked gently. 

“I’m more than alright,” he smiled, turning to place a tiny kiss on your fingers. “Are you?” 

“Good,” you nodded as you slid off him, mourning the sudden emptiness momentarily as you peeled off the condom, tying it in a neat knot to be disposed of later. Then he was lifting his arm, wriggling with you as if he could read your mind, and you were being cocooned against his body. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “if I was too loud.” 

“You weren’t,” you assured him quickly. “Not at all. Sorry about… gagging you. I should’ve asked. That’s not what usually happens.” 

He hesitated, turning to meet your eyes. “I… didn’t mind.” 

“No?” 

He shook his head, a small, nervous smile dancing across his lips. “No. In fact, I quite liked it.” 

You felt your own smile widen as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, taking his hand where it rested on his chest. “Good,” you said. “What about  the rest? What do you think?” 

He sighed, a beautifully satisfied noise that flooded you with warmth. “I think I should not have waited this long.” 

You laughed, pressing closer. “Mhm?” 

“Mhm. Thank you, (Y/N), truly.” 

“Oh,” you said softly, turning away to hide the blood rushing to your face. “That’s ok, Cas. Thank you.” 

He gave another little hum, shifting to drape his arm over your waist and pull you into him, fingers skimming your ribs. Getting spooned by a divine warrior of God, you thought with a thrill. Real life really was stranger than fiction. 

“You’re tired,” he murmured, his voice seeming to rumble through you in the best way possible. “You should sleep.” 

“Hold on,” you protested as you felt his arm withdrawing. You grabbed his hand, pulling it firmly back down to rest on your stomach, wiggling closer. “There was a blanket on the back, grab that. I’m staying here.” 

You could almost feel him frowning when he replied. “You’d not rather a bed?” 

You only hesitated a moment before bending to kiss his arm. “I’d rather you.” 

He didn’t seem to know quite what to say to that, but after a beat something heavy and slightly scratchy was being draped over you, and Cas’s arm was tightening around your waist, and his lips were pressing against your shoulder. 

“G’night,” you whispered. 

“Good night, (Y/N).” 

It was Dean who found his two friends curled together on the couch the next morning. He snorted, taking in the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders in tandem with Cas’s, his hand enveloping your smaller one where it rested just above the blanket, the assortment of what was very clearly Cas’s suit and your own clothes scattered over the floor. Well, he supposed, the night hadn’t been a complete failure. He had half a mind to throw something at you, the scene was so jarringly… sweet. 

“Rise n’ shine lovebirds,” he called instead, “we’ve got shit to do.” 

[malevessel]

I don't remember much about the possession.

I only know that I gave up. I betrayed my family, my brother and I gave up. I stopped fighting. I was very tired, not only from trying to expel my possessor, but from seeing how he harmed my family. He hit my brother when he started to dig deeper into my strange behavior. He insulted my mother and almost beat up my father. I couldn't take it anymore and gave up. Because I'm a coward

Sometimes I have flashes of what he does with my body. Small moments of lucidity, produced by some failure in his control. Yesterday, I think it was yesterday, I saw how he fucked a girl in a bed that I didn't know. God, Alice, I betrayed her too.

I don't feel pain, I don't feel anything he does, but the restlessness of being locked in your body, in your own mind, is more than enough torture.

A sharp pain in my eyes wakes me up and I slowly open them, blinded by the bright light of the sun. "I can move" is the first thought that comes to my mind. "I feel my body" is the second.

I try to stand up a little, failing due to lack of practice using my body, I don't know how much time has passed. I am in a large room, a hospital, and through the window I can see the bay of my city. At the side of the bed, there is an armchair, and my brother is asleep in it.

Anton, Ant!!! My voice feels different, deeper and more masculine. My brother wakes up and when he looks at me and sees that I'm awake, he screams. Mom, dad, he's woken up!!!

The next moment, a warm and aggressive hug was suffocating me, and my family was on top of me. My mother and my brother crying, and my father about to join in the crying too.

I'm sorry. It's the only sentence that comes out of my mouth. My mother is the first to speak. It's okay, honey. He's gone, he's not going to do anything to you anymore, not anymore

Then my brother. It's my fault Paul, I should have realized it sooner, I should have saved you......

I didn't really know what to say. The following hours my parents and my brother told me everything that had happened.

Five months had passed. Bob, my possessor, had sneaked into my house one night, through my window. The police assumed that he made the possession there. At first it was subtle, my parents and my brother noticed that something was wrong, but little did they know that a dangerous criminal had impersonated their son. The days passed and "my" behavior became erratic, increasingly evident that something was very, very wrong. In the end, my parents had no choice but to throw me out of the house, or Bob, and report me to the police. I was a danger to them. That was only during the first month, but they didn't know anything else about me, except for some information that Anton found out. It seems that Bob started a drug trafficking business again, with my body. They received no more news until a week ago when a police officer, more precisely Detective Sheila Mille, called my parents' house and explained the situation to them. The police were not sure that I was possessed, but for my family there was no doubt.

All the helplessness they felt during those months turned into anger, anger towards Bob, and hope, hope that I, their son, was still somewhere.

At my request, we talked again and stayed like that for a few more hours.

The police came to take my statement a few hours later, and when they left, Detective Sheila arrived, and with my family's permission, explained the situation to me, who Bob was, and why he could do what he did. I honestly couldn't understand much of what he was saying.

A few hours later I was discharged from the hospital and went home. While my parents prepared dinner, Anton and I met in my room. I needed to apologize

I'm sorry, I gave up, I couldn't do anything and you paid the price.

You don't have to apologize, Paul. In any case, it is my fault, for not having trusted my instincts, my heart that kept telling me that the person in front of me was not my brother.

When we finished talking, we had dinner as a family and when I returned to my room, I noticed it. A pain that was not pain. An anguish. My brother came through the door and threw something into my hands, a pack of cigarettes.

What the hell are you doing? I don't smoke

You don't, but Bob does. And he smoked every day for the five months he was in you. It's horrible and you're going to leave it as soon as possible, but not today. Today you have too many things on your mind to worry about that.

Before I could say anything else, the cigarette was already lit, and I was already smoking. This shit hit hard, it was going to be difficult to quit.

...........

The next morning I got up early and wanting to get back into my routine, I got ready to go to the gym. I hesitated whether to take the cigarettes or not and in the end decided not to, without realizing that I had already put them in my backpack without thinking about it.

......

This is going to continue

[holylulusworld]

Black eye

Summary: Left with his father Dean tries to find anything to keep on going.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Stanford era, mentions of violence/physical abuse, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, hurt Dean, hurt & comfort

A/N: We are getting pre-series Dean Winchester in this.

The bottle hits the wall. It’s one of these nights. The nights Dean fears the most. He’s a brave young man and even fights the scariest monsters. But facing his drunk and angry father turns him into a scared boy.

He stands in the room, hands stuffed into his pockets. Dean simply nods when John blames him for the hunt gone wrong.

It wasn’t his fault, though. John pissed the hunter joining them off, and they had to fend off the monster on their own.

Dean has an injured arm, and a dislocated shoulder because he had to play the bait once again. Still, John blames his son for another failure.

“I told you to follow my order,” John barks. This time Dean flinches. He should be used to John’s outbursts by now.

“Yes, Sir,” Dean replies. It doesn’t make sense to fight with John when he’s like that. Dean just watches his father kick the chair at the cheap motel out of his way.

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” John spits while yelling at Dean. “I can’t believe you sometimes!”

“You mean you could have gotten me killed while using me as bait,” Dean gasps after the words slip out of his mouth. He watches his father’s face contort in anger. Before Dean can block the punch, he staggers backward, holding his face.

John lost control. Not for the first time. Whenever things went awry, like Sam leaving for Stanford, Dean was his punching ball. “See, you can’t even block a punch. I raised you better.”

“Raised me?” Dean scoffs. He shakes his head, feeling the pain radiate not only through his arm but his skull too. “I guess you should hunt on your own then or find someone better.”

“What?” John watches Dean grab the keys to the Impala and his duffle bag filled with the meager belongings he owns. “If you step out of that door, you’re not my son any longer.”

Dean stops for a second. He looks over his shoulder at his father, the man he admired for so long. “I guess this means you’ve got no son left.”

Dean paces in front of the house. He didn’t think this through. Not at all. After leaving the motel room, Dean dumped all his burner phones but one. The one he kept hidden from his father.

He didn’t call before coming here. Another mistake. Dean doesn’t even know if the person he’s seeking out is still living here.

“Dean?” He jerks his head toward the now-open door. You watched him pace in front of your house, unsure if he was ready to talk to you. “How did you…”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he seems to be nervous when you step closer to drink Dean’s appearance in. You haven’t seen him since your dad quit hunting two years ago, but you can tell, Dean has been miserable since then.

“What happened?” you carefully touch his swollen cheek. “A hunt gone wrong?” You question as he drops his head in shame. “John…”

“Both,” he shrugs. “He was so mad…and I talked back and then…”

“He hurt you,” you don’t hesitate any longer. Before Dean can change his mind, you carefully wrap him in a hug.

Dean sniffs. “I know it’s late, but I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Come in, Dean,” you softly whisper. “I have been waiting for you to come back. You can always come here.”

“Can I stay too?” Dean murmurs while following you inside your home, only his duffle bag and keys in his hands.

“If you want to, you can stay forever…”

Tags in reblog.

[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Chapter X

Synopsis: The territory between the Uchiha and the Senju dwindles by the day. And in an era where social lines have been blurred, and new clan heads have been chosen, you're stuck between a scorned lover and a man who relentlessly pursues your hand in marriage. You don't have much time before you're forced to confront the sins of your past.

Word Count: 6.5k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including tags for choking. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Chapter I Previous Chapter Part X (Current Chapter)

Notes: I'M FINALLY THOUGH EDITING IS IT REALLY MY FAULT I'M A FAILURE?????

The negotiations would last several weeks, and leadership from all allied clans would gather in one place with the intention to form a united village. Just prior to all the impending formal political talks, the Uchiha and the Senju shared a ceremonial banquet following Hashirama’s speech. The show of friendship between him and Madara was meant to act as the first step to unity, and for how tense you had expected it to be, the night went over fairly well.

Most people stuck to their own kind, and you could understand their hesitation to make casual conversation with the very people they had just been at generational odds with only a few days prior. Not to mention that Madara wasn’t exactly adept at acting friendly, which did little to help matters in the face of visibly petrified members of the Senju. You had discretely nudged Madara’s shoulder. He could have afforded to present himself far less intimidatingly.

But it seemed that Hashirama’s zealous personality could break through even the coldest of attitudes, and you choked it up to his extroverted personality that put people at better ease.

You hardly left Madara’s side throughout the duration of the night, even as he made extensive chatter with Hashirama: all shop talk. For bitter, lifetime rivals, you couldn’t help but consider that they got along rather famously. And for the dichotomy in their personalities, Madara’s imposing gravity and Hashirama’s endless electricity balanced out surprisingly well from what you witnessed. 

They talked to each other like they’d known each other forever, and you couldn't recall a time you had ever seen Madara so at ease. 

To your surprise, Tobirama was also active, doing the rounds to answer questions and shake hands just as much as Hashirama. 

He seemed much more severe than you remembered him. His round eyes had become almost lidded and stern, and the expressiveness of his face had faded almost entirely. Any expression was replaced with a neutral line that resembled a frown more often than not. But despite his unfortunately standoffish demeanor, people still appeared to find him approachable, waving him over and standing with clear interest as they probed him with questions. And while Hashirama spun hope of the village's founding, Tobirama answered the logistical questions. 

“Several locations will be considered during negotiations,” you heard him tell a small group of concerned Senju. He had his arms crossed sternly over his chest. His voice was much deeper than when you last heard it about ten years prior. 

Tobirama appeared around you a few times throughout the night, standing a distance away with his attention occupied by various clan members. However, you couldn’t help but note how he kept his body turned ever so slightly, and you wondered if he eyed you out of his peripheral the way you kept him in yours. 

You, too, shifted your stance, following Madara closely around the hall for the few rounds he made. Madara wasn’t nearly as social as the Senju appeared to be— perhaps it was a cultural difference. Although it did occur to you that the Senju didn’t seem to know much about the truce at all.

While Madara and the rest of the council (the council you supposed you were now a part of due to your fibbing) held a village-wide, night-long meeting to hash out questions and concerns about joining up with the Senju, Hashirama appeared to have had no such discussion with his people. Instead, it seemed that the first formal discussions about this decision among the Senju were occurring here at the announcement banquet.

And while the Senju certainly had significant concerns and an even greater number of questions, they appeared relatively docile, taking Hashirama and Tobirama’s answers and words with great weight. No one but Hashirama and his charming personality could have pulled such a thing off, you considered.

The Uchiha were the first to trickle off, many of them leaving after an unspecified amount of time to return to the village in the crook of the southern shoulder. The fact that it was approaching dark wasn’t of concern, considering that the Uchiha as a whole tended to favor nighttime travel. 

The Senju stayed the longest, occupying the hall in astonishingly great numbers well into the night. They even outlasted you, Madara, and the Uchiha council, all of whom were beginning to drift away back to your temporary quarters on the neutral negotiation grounds. 

You stood at the far end of the hall near the exit as Madara bid a lengthy farewell to Hashirama, having been sucked into an excessively long bout of shop talk. Tobirama stood at the far end, leaning against a table. He hunched intently and nodded along to a fellow Senju clan member.

You wondered if his gaze followed your presence as easily as yours did him. You soon left with Madara. You had lengthy negotiations ahead of you.

***

You were grossly underprepared; that much was true. And perhaps you should have known as much when you saw how every other clan, even those already affiliated with the Uchiha, brought parcels upon parcels of paper into the meeting room. As a self-appointed member of the council, you carried nothing, nor did the rest of the council members who were chosen through battle. The idea of Madara having prepared documents didn’t even occur to you, nor should it have, considering that he, too, came empty-handed. 

“I would like to thank each of you for making the journey to join together in this place for these historic discussions,” Hashirama began, assuming leadership over the negotiations. “In the mere act of traveling all this way and bringing the openness of your mind, you are already changing the future for the better.”

Several clan heads from small clans as well as leadership from allied ones gathered around the table. Papers and quills sat neatly on the table everywhere but in front of the Uchiha. Members of the various councils and other assistants sat along the room's perimeter, some haphazardly pulling in a random assortment of chairs while others stood behind their respective leaders. 

Madara sat directly across from Hashirama, ignoring the other clan leaders' pointed glances toward Madara’s ignited sharingan eye. Your back touched the wall just a short distance behind him. The other Uchiha counselors took up great space with their chairs, and even with one or two sitting on the floor, the liberal space behind Madara was indeed occupied. 

“There are several topics to discuss on the docket, and while one is no less important than the other, I believe our first decision should be that of location.” Hashirama shifted a page in front of him before glancing back up at the table. “Does any clan pose a quarrel?”

“Is this perhaps too rash to begin with choosing land?” the head of the Fuma questioned. He sat forward, forearms crossed on the table as he stared directly ahead toward the Inuzuka clan head. “Setting boundaries for how our people are to behave should be of primary importance. From there, we can speak about the governmental structure.”

“I implore you to elaborate on what you speak,” Inuzuka spat, crinkling her nose in disgust. 

“The notion that we are to join together in unity is indeed pleasant, but I do hold concern for my people over the lack of self-control in some disingenuous natures gathered here.”

“This is rich from your tongue!” Inuzuka barked. “Your interest in policy-making is so transparent it is foul!”

“I am in agreement,” Hyūga interjected, already beginning to gather his things. His slender, opaque eyes narrowed at Fuma before glancing at Madara. “Negotiating with those who only know savagery appears fruitless indeed. Gaze upon Madara’s brazenly ignited sharingan eye! I call for expectations to be set!” Hyūga glanced around in search of support before fully turning toward the Uchiha. “Is not the presentation of the sharingan in opposition to bare eyes a show of violence in your culture? Is it not a declaration of battle?”

“This is spoken by an amoral backstabber!” Hagoromo growled. “Your allegiance falters in the wind! Were you not recently allied with the Uchiha before your betrayal at the first sign of conflict?”

”Enough, enough, my friends,” Hashirama attempted, but the quibbling continued. 

“He may set this hall ablaze any time he pleases! What if negotiations do not go his way?”

”All of us understand that you care not for clans which are not your own.” Fuma frowned. “Do us all a service and cease pretending you are remotely invested in unity.”

”As if you care for unity!”

Papers shifted across the table as intricately drafted documents were swept into piles. The cacophony of chatter only increased as voices melded together in petty dispute, and it was only when chairs began to shift back from the table that Madara’s hand slammed hard on the table.

”Silence!” Madara’s voice boomed, quickly standing with suddenness.

The sheer volume and dominance that Madara held in it caused all talk to cease, but it also caused clan heads and aids alike to stand, chakra networks flaring to life like a blazing wildfire. The word was curt and singular in its existence, but it only escalated the tension in the room as the backs of chairs slammed against the floor and kunai were drawn out of hidden holsters. The Uchiha council members shot up instantly, igniting sharingan as they stood at Madara’s defense.

He stood, hulking over his place at the negotiation table as the rest of the clan heads watched him where he stood, ready to strike with the most minuscule of sudden movements.

Hashirama sat at the opposite end of the table, his expression unreadable. Tobirama had instinctually stepped forward and stopped only by his brother's raised hand.

Madara continued to speak. His eyes still shone a glowing red.

 “You all think this a game? You would play with the lives of your people so? Hashirama and I do not put an end to centuries of generational bloodshed for it to be tarnished by disingenuous characters…” Madara challenged. He slowly straightened his back to stand at full height as he surveyed the leaders around the table. “I thought we all gathered because we have all been worn by gore and violence… However, for any who is pompous enough to find himself not fatigued enough, so much that he may disturb these negotiations at this place, I would be more than willing to offer a remedy—”

“Speak for yourself, Uchiha!”

“Enough.” Hashirama finally spoke again with far more sternness, and perhaps it was the grave tone— such a difference from his usual upbeat demeanor— that caused the room to stand still. You watched as he heaved a heavy sigh. You had never seen Hashirama frown before. “There will be no talks such as this. I implore everybody to sit. Yield your jutsu… and your weaponry.”

A pregnant pause occupied the room. And slowly, each clan head began to return to their seats one by one. The tension in the air remained, but Hashirama’s marinating words slowly breathed life back into the atmosphere. And to your surprise, Madara resumed his seat without protest. Only one was left standing.

”Hyūga…” Nara spoke from his seat. “I encourage you to sit.” He offered a shallow nod to the leader of the byakugan-bearing clan. Blank irises stared back at him. “Please, I would like for Hashirama to continue.”

The contempt in Hyūga’s eyes was palpable, and the scrunching of his nose was even more explicit. But even he, too, took his seat once more. 

Having gathered the room's attention, Nara yielded the floor to Hashirama, who appeared graver than you had ever seen him. His smile and cordial face had settled into a neutral if not stern, expression, and the atmosphere in the room sobered. 

“If anyone around this table is disinterested in moving forward with this alliance, you are free to leave. Your decisions will not be held against you or your people, and you will be allowed to retreat from this place safely.” Hashirama said. The room sat still. “But if you choose to stay, we all are to approach these negotiations— and one another— with respect and sincerity. Charged rhetoric will get us nowhere. Are we in agreement?” 

No one but Hashirama could have said such things and been taken with gravity. Even now, a heavy aura radiated from him, spreading across the room as clan leaders settled back into their seats. 

“It is true,” Hyūga reluctantly admitted. He turned to Hashirama with a slight bow of his head. “I offer you my apologies, Hashirama.” 

A low murmur circled the room with similar sentiments. 

“However,” he continued, glancing back toward Madara, “If we are expected to yield ourselves to these negotiations, I would personally feel more at ease if Madara were to extinguish his mangekyo sharingan.”

“Aye,” Yamanaka agreed. “As a show of goodwill.” A few nods circled the table.

Madara scowled. 

“The sharingan is a recording device—”

“The sharingan is a recording device as much as a kunai is a quill,” Inuzuka barked, leaning back in her chair with crossed arms. She rolled her eyes and yawned. “Extinguish your weapon, and let us get on with these talks.”

It took a beat of silence, but to your surprise, Madara obliged. The reds of his eyes spiraled into darkness, restoring his irises to their usual deep brown. He continued to frown.

“One of my councilmen will maintain his ocular jutsu,” he sternly insisted. “The Uchiha have a right to keep our account of these meetings.”

“Certainly not!”

“Have your council keep documents like the rest of us—”

“The Uchiha should not be able to maintain something so brazen as a warrior with an ocular jutsu—”

“The woman.” Tobirama’s voice cut across the chatter. You made eye contact with him for the first time since you had met each other again. He stood just behind Hashirama’s shoulder, his red irises boring into yours and his arms crossed. His gaze didn’t leave yours for a second as he spoke. “The woman can keep the record for the Uchiha, for she is not a combatant.”

Madara’s head snapped up instantly, a scathing glare painted over his face. Tobirama’s eyes flickered to Madara. A few heads bobbed around the table. 

“That would be satisfactory…” you heard.

“She is a member of your council, is she not, Madara?” Tobirama doubled down.

You only had a view of the back of Madara’s head, not of the scathing expression that contorted his face as he tried to piece together what Tobirama was playing at. They stayed like that for a few moments, locked in a challenging stare before Madara finally spoke, surprising you with how easily he relented.

“Yes.” He glanced back at you for the briefest of moments. “Yes, she is.”

“Well, if everyone is in agreement, we can finally move past this,” Tobirama spoke quickly, just about cutting Madara off. His eyes drifted back to yours, staring at you along with the rest of the room. 

All attention was on you. You felt it shouldn’t have mattered how important these people were, but knowing their status only made you sweat. Tobirama’s intense stare felt the hottest. 

In a moment unknown to you, Hashirama’s wary gaze drifted toward his younger brother, the thoughts in his head varying in comparison to the room.

You averted your eyes to Madara, who had turned his head just slightly enough to catch your eye from over his shoulder. He hardly gave you a nod. He hardly needed to. 

You cast your eyes down, the reds of your eyes swirling to life. The pattern of your irises was nowhere near as stunning as Madara’s, but your simple eye pattern didn’t appear too important to anyone else.

Hashirama spoke, his usual jolly expression back on his face as he laughed, “We have put off our first order of business for too long now! Let us begin with—” 

With your sharingan ignited, you could never forget Tobirama’s scathing gaze.

***

You were arranged in your own sort of village. Having chosen a slice of heavily forested neutral land that belonged to the Nara, every clan head and posse of advisors were granted their own living quarters for the duration of the negotiations, which were spread out across the small territory. (It all was courtesy of Hashirama Senju’s wood style— you didn’t think there was a single thing that man couldn’t do). 

The negotiation hall was also rather large, consisting of the main, intricately decorated conference room. It also held of a few smaller rooms for clan councils to work out their proposals after hours. You could always smell the kitchen from where you worked, which was exactly next door to the hall.

Run by three Nara aunties, the kitchen always seemed to dish out meals on time and in excess. And for all the petty fighting and suspicion that seemed to subtly lace every other word spoken between clans, no one dared to question any of the Nara cooks. 

Meals were taken in a scattered way, with some councils choosing to sit at communal tables within the dining hall while others took their food in private and likely over political documents. You took yours at one of the few tables that sat outside. Nowadays, you learned to take in the sun whenever you could, opting for a quaint spot under a nearby tree. 

The spot and the view were both aesthetically pleasing, which you assumed brought Mito Uzumaki to plop herself down next to you. And plop she did, her elegant and flowing robes creating a silk wave around her as she looked at you.

“I am Mito Uzumaki,” she said with a curt nod. Straightforward. You already knew who she was. She looked at you with all the seriousness in the world, and the severe pout on her lips made you lower your chopsticks on sight. You weren’t quite ready to handle political matters with such important figures on your own— “I have never seen an Uchiha woman before. Is it true that your clan prefers to send exclusively men into battle?”

Mito maintained direct eye contact as you waited for the punchline, despite the fact that you hadn’t truly mistaken her statement as a joke in the first place. No punchline came. Instead, a gentle breeze passed, making her hair ornaments sway as her face sat comically rigid. You offered her your name, but not even that caused a crack in Mito’s stoicism. You continued tentatively,

“I suppose now you have. Seen an Uchiha woman, that is,” you said, speaking more words that were absorbed into the silence. “I have never seen an Uzumaki woman before…?”

You hadn’t thought it was all that funny. You hadn’t meant for what you said to be comical in the slightest, and yet the loudest, most operatic laugh you had ever heard tore from Mito’s throat like a rogue bird. It came out as one giant “HA!” before she quickly slapped a sleeve-clan hand over her mouth. 

“I see; yes, I suppose that is true.” She nodded, and in an instant, she had composed herself entirely, reverting to her severe, neutral expression. 

You remembered her from the negotiations. She hasn’t said much during the initial squabbling; in fact, you hadn’t recalled her saying anything. But when it came time to discuss actual topics pertaining to the village, the Uzumaki clan made themselves prominent in the discussions. Poised and amply prepared in her talking points, you never knew there could be such a woman leader— much less a clan head. 

“You have quite the sharp wit. I can see why you are so prominent on the Uchiha council,” Mito hummed. 

You opened your mouth to correct her, but you faltered for words. What would you tell her? That you lied during a moment of panic in front of your scorned lover from your teenage years? Perhaps it was her compliment that caused your lips to close. Mito faced forward as you thought, tilting her head slightly. 

“When I first came to attend these negotiations, I was warned there might not be many other women. I had approached Inuzuka, but she did not seem to be one for casual speaking. This is why I say these things. Perhaps I am too invested in such labels,” she said before she rose. Mito gracefully smoothed out her robes. “I will not disturb your meal more than I already have, although—” She turned to you with a delicate smile. “I hope that we may work together in the near future.”

”Yes, most certainly,” you offered, still not entirely wrapping your head around the interaction in the slightest.

Even as she walked away, you pondered her.

***

Mito hadn’t been the only one to mistake you for someone of importance. However, you couldn’t necessarily blame anyone who assumed you would be a good contact with Madara. You did tell Hashirama you were on the Uchiha council, after all, and having shown up to the meetings acting as the Uchiha’s resident records keeper, you had assumed the role rather ideally. But acting only served to get you a short distance and did little for your actual political knowledge or your nerve.

 And so, when you received important documents to be reviewed by the next day’s session, you thought you would pass them off to Madara. You had tried to politely decline the scrolls several times, insisting that they should go to a member who was actually a part of the council without saying the quiet part out loud, but the notes had been thrust upon you regardless. 

You flipped through them out of acute curiosity, skimming them as you returned to the Uchiha quarters. It wasn’t far out of the way, within walking distance of the meeting hall but far enough from the other residences for privacy and peace of mind. You trudged up the path amongst the trees, just beginning to roll the last scroll back up when the Uchiha residence appeared.

But it wasn’t the intricately built building that made you stop at the edge of the trees. 

Tobirama scrambled up from where he sat on the steps to the engawa, placing one foot on the ground while the other retreated a step up. You stood just a short distance away, visibly stunned, as the surprise in Tobirama’s eyes flashed across his red irises before disappearing instantly.

His jaw tightened as a low rumble ruminated around his chest. He cast his gaze off to the side. 

”I was informed that they had just sent a trusted member of the Uchiha council here to deliver the updated documents and that I was to give this to him.” Tobirama held out yet another scroll, nearly identical to the ones you carried. “It was left behind.”

You performed another swivel of your head. The Uchiha lodgings were quiet. A gentle breeze rattled the leaves around you. Madara must be off meeting with Hashirama.

The scroll sat in the air, and you made no effort to retrieve it from him. You took a step back. Tobirama’s arm lowered. His brow twitched.

”And they sent you for this?” you asked. Tobirama’s scowl deepened. “I understand being asked to run papers myself, but—” You purposefully met his gaze with a creased brow and a frown. “They sent you…?”

”I could do the task the swiftest, that is, if Madara was actually here. They must have headed back into town,” Tobirama said just a beat too quickly. “I am surprised you were not notified. I could have saved myself the trouble.” He waved the scroll toward you, bobbing his head in annoyance. “I cannot say I take a liking to the situation any more than you do, so be hasty now.”

“Any more than I?” You scoffed. Your head swiveled around to check your surroundings. When you faced him again, you spoke with a quiet hiss. “Excuse my hesitancy, for the last time we spoke, I do recall you were detailing your plans to mutilate my butchered corpse!”

 Tobirama huffed, but he visibly tensed. His eyes also surveyed the surrounding woods before he glanced back at the Uchiha compound. He leaned forward, not that the slight distance made much of a difference, as he scolded you softly from across the clearing.

“Quite the exaggeration, considering you were an enemy spy,” he gritted lowly through his teeth. His gaze continued to dart around the trees. He scowled deeply before casting his shifty gaze off to the side again.

”This is false by your own admission!” You moved partway into the clearing, your index finger pointed. Another glance away. Your voice was hushed, still hissing in an attempt at secrecy. “You had affirmed that I was a non-combatant in the initial round of discussions, and in any case, it would be inaccurate to describe me as anything else—!”

 “A spy constitutes a danger,” he said quickly, lip curling downward into a shape that could have easily been a pout. 

It was an annoyed gesture but devoid of actual weight. Tobirama sighed, and as he closed his eyes, you could see the tension in his shoulders deflate. He was surely displeased with having to face you so soon, but lacked aggression.

It sent you back, thinking you saw a glimmer of something from the past in the barely recognizable man before you. You never thought you would see him again, after all, and despite the ongoing peace negotiations, there was no doubt in your mind that your previous affair could stir up tensions. 

Your heart constricted, your pulse pounding in your ears. A magnetic force willed you forward, the feeling suffocating your lungs and throat, a dense curiosity. How purposeful had his appearance at the Uchiha compound been?

You wondered what Tobirama thought of all this. You wondered if he looked back upon you fondly like an old flame or perhaps if he was eager to see you again. Maybe it was all too hopeful for the disgust and resentment that coated your very last interaction. 

You thought. You thought. You thought.

But an answer came more swiftly than you anticipated. 

”You seek something that is no longer present.” The skin around his eyes had creased, narrowing his red gaze incredulously at you, piercing you deeply. Tobirama’s voice cut through your thoughts as if reading your mind. It occurred to you for a moment that such a jutsu might exist. “I can see it in those damned eyes… it is the reason you take matters of the battlefield so personally.”

It wasn’t until you stopped short that you realized you were walking toward him. The sudden hostility in his voice froze you mid-step. You stared into his red irises, looking for any hint of his thoughts. 

You thought you had seen something, even in his vexed expression, but its shadow passed quicker than you could catch. And now, he looked down upon you, arms crossed and cold.

“What?” It was the only thing you could think to say. You blinked a few times in disbelief.

Tobirama held the scroll out to you again, waving it a few times in the air. Your gaze darted from the paper back to Tobirama. 

You wanted to step back.

“Do not make this harder than it needs to be,” he gritted. “Your faintheartedness is going to make a mockery of us both, so I implored you not to take matters of the battlefield so personally.” 

His eyes darted to the side with another shake of the scroll, but you didn’t move to take the document from him. Tobirama glared at you a moment more, anticipating a moment that would never come. He retreated with a sigh, pocketing the scroll with a vexed grumble. 

He moved to bypass you, and you should have, by all means, allowed him to continue. 

There was an immense burning in your chest, which grew by the second, pulling you forward toward an opposition you had intended to avoid. Your body moved on its own to obstruct Tobirama’s path.

A short distance still sat between you, but the few steps of dirt did nothing to make up for your indiscretion. Tobirama gazed down at you, almost as surprised as you were at your forwardness. You stood still by sheer and embarrassing stubbornness alone, driven by an urge to pull something from him that even you didn’t know. 

Tobirama stood over you with lidded eyes and a severe expression that contorted his frown deeper. He crossed his arms, squaring his shoulders back as he regarded you. Your nose crinkled between your widened eyes.

You were scared, shaking. It was an incredulous move. Peace negotiations be damned; you must have been out of your mind to challenge the second in command to the most powerful clan in the Land of Fire. Not to mention alone, and for what? It was something that didn’t escape you, but the panic in you needed everything to stay the way it was. Nothing could move, not until you had time to think—

“Move.”

You shook your head. You babbled like a cornered doe. 

— “You did not actually think I was a spy—”

“Move, you foul, demonic creature,” he suddenly thundered. His voice cut through the silence of the clearing in a way you hadn’t anticipated. The volume made you flinch, and the deep roar shook you, striking genuine fear into your heart.

Tobirama was a man now, you had to remind yourself. He had been tall before, but he held an even grander stature now. His form was carved through battle— the killing of your kinsman and the thorough training that you yourself had witnessed long ago. 

You were not naive enough not to understand what such a man was capable of.  

Tobirama’s face was beginning to turn a shade of red. The fur around his neck flared up around his neck like the mane of a lion. He tilted his head back to stare at the sky as he heaved a deep breath. Tobirama moved to retrieve the scroll from his belt, again holding it to you, this time far more aggressively.

“I implore you to cease your difficulty—”

You slapped his hand. 

You slapped him, and the scroll went tumbling to the ground.

You wondered what your face looked like and if it looked as wide and shocked as Tobirama’s. You were sure your expression didn’t revert to stoicism as quickly.

You wished it did.

”Difficulty?” You steamed, spurred on by panic alone. “You argue with me over petty things such as definition, acting rudely to a diplomatic ally, and speaking of difficulty?” Your voice rose. And in a way, you were sent back to a time when you scolded Madara more often— before his promotion to clan head.

His face was severe. 

Your heart pounded in your chest.

You had just laid your hands on Tobirama Senju. And to disrespect a document used in peace negotiations, no less. 

“Are you out of your head?” Tobirama snapped. His hand jerked away as he took a half step back. A part of him seethed; you didn’t have to see it in the twitch of his brow. “If I informed my brother that a member of the Uchiha council made such a gesture, I am certain that the other clans would consider it a declaration of war.” 

He made a sudden gesture toward you, flaring at you and forcing you to take a step back. And for a second, the reds of your irises swirled to life before dissipating into their usual color. 

The movement stunned you, but it only fueled your mounting rage further. You stood, tense in the shadow of the tree line. Tobirama didn’t move as he settled back into stoicism. Although, his clenched jaw betrayed him. 

The forest stood still around you. 

“I had wanted to see it for myself…” Tobirama’s voice faded into a low, haunted grumble. Tobirama’s stare fixed onto your eyes, and whatever the expression was— curious or disgusted— held a morbid gravity. 

He let out a steady stream of air in an attempt to rope himself back to calmness.

He blinked once… twice…

“You are fortunate that we are in this setting of negotiation and unity, for I would not have humored your petty whims for this long otherwise.” His voice dipped, registering at a timber that shook like a predator's growl. You were still shaking. Tobirama stepped forward. “You dare forget yourself when speaking to a warrior of my caliber? Do you consider that I have the time of day for these things? Now move, or I will move you.”

You were frozen, shaking with wide eyes and a crinkled brow as you did what Tobirama could only describe as staring him down. The embers of a raging glint flickered in your eyes, which were beginning to glaze over with tears of stress. You refused to let any of them fall, allowing the water outline the fire that burned in your irises. 

“You would not dare lay a finger on me, and I know as much.” The words lashed from your lips with a heat that burned at Tobirama’s chilly defense. 

You stood at a stalemate, a pause wedging itself between the two of you. 

His presence was overwhelming. Displeased energy radiated off him in waves, making his mounting fury palpable in the air. Tobirama scrunched his mouth, forcing his bottom lip into a severe scowl.

“Because you think I fear Madara?” The question was laced with an accusation. “Madara knows better than to test me.” Tobirama took another step forward, continuing to darken. Instinctively, you stepped back.

“The only reason the Uchiha have leadership intact at all is due to my brother’s amply generous charity.” He tilted his head, studying you with scrutiny. “Is this what you do? Seek out powerful men to hide behind? To prey upon like a lowly urchin?”

You gritted your teeth, glancing him up and down with a flicker of your eyes.  

“I would hardly have referred to you as a powerful man, let alone a man at all—“

“I have had enough of you and of the Uchiha. If this is how things will work, I might as well inform Hashirama that this entire endeavor is as fruitless as I advised him in the first place.” Vindictive. Spiteful. Reckless. Hyperbolized. 

Tobirama pushed past you, moving out of the clearing and toward the path back to the main settlement. 

Not even your momentary flare of courage could make you stand your ground or chase after him as he left. No, not when you were crushed by the weight of what Tobirama just threatened. 

The Uchiha couldn’t afford to resume fighting the Senju, and despite Hashirama’s good nature, you were certain that the Uchiha could be ended here and now if Madara was forced to fight. 

And while you had witnessed Madara’s great strength firsthand, you knew he could not hope to win in this setting. It would all be over. The clan. The dear one you had left. You. All for what?

That had been the question that had been ruminating through your thoughts.

You stared at the back of Tobirama’s retreating head. Air caught in your throat. Panic whipped around all of your thoughts.

For what? For what? For what? For what?

You hadn’t wanted to fight him, nor did you want to chase him. But the nagging heat in your core grew nonetheless. You spun around, an unyielding fury bubbling up in your throat. And against your better judgment, you critically called,

“What would your clan think about your dedication?” It was only with your empty threat that Tobirama stopped. He stopped short in the middle of the path, letting his foot slide as the earth crumbled beneath his heel. He dropped down a quarter step, faced away from you, and unreadable. He was listening, and you were desperate. “You had given much to an Uchiha girl in your past! Would your clan be pleased to know that her memory was the reason for the unrecognizably bitter chakra?”

You almost laughed at your own gaul, and your eyes only widened as he marched back up the path toward you. 

You rambled with panic, the words leaving your tongue before you could think of them. Sweat manifested on your skin as pure adrenaline took over.

“The son of the famed Batsuma Senju and cherished younger brother of the great God of Shinobi, Hashirama Senju, is intimidated in the face of a woman! You should be ashamed—!”

Tobirama only needed a few long strides before he was upon you. Tobirama’s hand shot out to grasp your neck, only for it to phase right through, your illusion dissipating into the air. But just as your figure began to dissipate, and just as you were about to slip past him to make your escape, his other hand aimed directly through your genjutsu and wrapped tightly around your throat in a mere moment of battlefield instinct. 

You were swept off your feet, the entire mass of Tobirama slamming into you like an ocean wave. He held you by the throat with one hand, the rest of his body pinning you against a nearby tree as all the air in your lungs was forced out by the impact. Your hands flew to his wrist. 

He held you there, immobilizing you in an instant. It was as though a bear pinned you down or a beastly forest tiger. Tobirama’s breaths were deep and steady. His piercing gaze bore deeply into you, leaving you no choice but to meet his eye. 

He was choking you, not with the intent to kill, but to establish dominance. The grip may not have comprised all of Tobirama’s strength, but it was enough to make your vision blur.

You squirmed, pulling at his grasp, but Tobirama didn’t budge. He held you close, with his nose almost touching yours. Tobirama’s arm bent at the elbow between you, impeding his chest from fully pushing onto yours. The bark of the wood dug into the skin of your back through your robes. 

His dense, woody scent was overwhelmingly masculine yet clean; something about it shot lightning through your heart. Aside from the burning in your lungs, it was the only other thing you could sense. 

“The only thing I am ashamed of is that I had not seen it sooner,” he gritted. 

His hand jerked in punctuation, shaking you by the neck, and it was only with this movement that Tobirama recoiled. Or perhaps it was the prolonged look into your eyes, dredging memories up from the past that Tobirma thought he had long forgotten. 

He let you go with an acute stumble back, which was hardly noticeable as he clenched his teeth hard. 

You coughed, crumpling down on the ground. A harsh wheeze tore from your throat as you bowed at Tobirama’s feet, trying to collect yourself. 

“Consider us even,” you managed to hiss, still at the ready to sling venom. You stared up at him from between strands of hair. Tears welled in your eyes. 

He hardly lingered on you, decisively turning to storm down the dirt path, brewing with stoic, cold heat.

You sat on the first ground, just on the trail’s edge. Your hands tremored, holding your neck and face as you reeled from what had just happened. You could hardly move, let alone pick yourself up.

“I hope that the mere memory of me shall haunt you until the day you are killed on the battlefield and beyond!” You cried out, strangled. And to your surprise, your curse came out with a laugh. Your tears had been held at bay for long enough, and they finally streamed down your face. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: So I was fully intending on wrapping this story up in the next 3 chapters... before this chapter. Ugh, because it didn't really make sense for them to be shy and want to reconnect now did it? I think people wanted more to the story anyway now that we're in the actually juicy part.

This series was supposed to be like 5 chapters you know.

Because the thing is is that I'm actually trying to make Tobirama a dynamic character because I didn't think he felt like a character at all up until now. If anything, I think I want to redeem the first half of this series because I hate it so much. I do it to myself at this point.

Oh and then I went back and actually read from chapter 7 on and AAAAA i need to FIX PLOT HOLES so...ooo... this series will be TEN MILLION CHAPTER LONG NOW SEE YA IN TEN YEARS

This story is officially "double enemies to lovers"

Next chapter dropping at 100 notes.

Tag list: @gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake @frvv

Chapter I Previous Chapter Part X (Current Chapter)

Full chapter list: Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

[y13evie]

hi i love love your writing!! would you write a smut for james wilson from house? maybe reader is working on house's team, or just works at the hospital. slight age gap also if that's okay!

ty for writing it if you choose it!! <33

clear your mind

omg i am SO sorry for the wait, my dear. i hope you enjoy!!

tags: age gap, smut, fuckin on da job

the tension was consuming you. day and night, all you could think about was him. there have been countless nights where you touched yourself while creating fake scenarios of you two. but that’s irrelevant right now. you’re supposed to be helping your team figure out what may be wrong with your critical patient. house notices you aren’t concentrated.

“you. what’ve you got?”. he tilts his head at you. you know he was asking you on purpose, everything he did had reasoning. you think of something fast. and it’s obvious.

“appendicitis?”

“jesus. who gave you a medical degree? get out and clear your head, you need it.”

god he was harsh. but he was right. you nodded at your colleagues as house shooed you out. you scolded yourself for not separating your work and home life. it wasn’t your fault though. james was so smart, so handsome, so much older. it’s like he was asking to be swooned over.

to clear your head you decided to hang out with your favorite nurse before getting back to work. she knew the feelings you had for james and supported your slightly problematic crush. she nursed in the oncology department, so you treaded the waters to her office very carefully. due to your lack of attention to your surroundings, you managed to walk right into the very man you’re avoiding.

“oh, hi. i actually needed to talk to you about something if you have a moment”. he looked at you with those eyes. everyone might call you crazy but you swear that coworkers don’t look at each other the way he looks at you.

“i’m busy. bye”. you nudged past him, something unusual as it’s normal for you to be so bubbly around him.

you barge into your friend's office and immediately throw yourself onto her beanbag.

“i’m a failure”. your muffled voice dripping with drama. she peeled her eyes off of her reports to you. it was quite a humorous sight, your face in the bean bag as you kick your feet like a toddler.

“what happened this time, sis.”. she walks over to you and sits criss cross applesauce, waiting for you to spill. you prop your head up on your hands and begin your story from the moment house kicked you out and basically called you an idiot.

the way she bit her lip in an effort to stifle her laughter tells you she’s not taking your sob story very seriously.

“it’s not funny!” you huffed. now you really looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

that did it for her. she began to laugh a little.

“it’s so funny. you’re a mess, babe! i need you to pick yourself up and go get your old man.”. you could tell she’s serious but can’t help but giggle at ‘old man’. that’s something she always nagged you about.

you got yourself back onto your feet and decided she was right. it was probably the only way you could get those silly thoughts out of your head. you thanked your friend for helping you out and marched out of her office. just as you were about to reach the department of diagnostic medicine, you heard a familiar voice.

“hey. we need to talk now.”. you turned around and faced him. all the bravery in your heart melted as soon as you came face to face with james wilson.

“uhm..sure? what about?” you questioned. there was what felt like an endless pit in your stomach, you almost wanted to order an MRI. he instructed you to follow him to his office, which of course, you obeyed.

when you arrived at his office he let you walk in first, being sure to lock the door once you both were in. you began to toy with the stitching of your white coat. he sits at the edge of his desk, waiting for you to look up.

“what’s going on?” he questions you this time. you paused for a moment, trying to decipher what he’s trying to say.

“what?”

“the way you walked right past me today. what was that about?”. he pushes his question further, expecting an answer to your coldness.

your heart dropped once you understood what he meant. you looked at him with pleading eyes, scanning his face for how he’s feeling.

“i’ve had something on my mind. i’m really, really sorry. you’re the last person i want to ignore.”

“so you’re ignoring me?” you can tell he isn’t upset as a sly smile makes its way into his face. you roll your eyes as he beckons you to come a little closer.

“what’s on your mind?”. he knows how you feel. it’s painfully obvious. he just wants to hear you say it.

you claim it’s nothing and wave it off as stress, but he knows you’re lying. he knows you’re lying when you come even closer to him, positioning yourself right between his legs that are hanging off his desk. he knows you’re lying when you can’t help but stare at the way his pants are tightening around his crotch.

“you know how unprofessional this is, right? or do you just wanna feel me inside of you.”. you’re done with him teasing you. you shut him up by placing a soft kiss on lips, which then led to a makeout session that had his hands roaming your body. and you let him. the way you grind on him in desperation tells him everything he needs to know.

he allows you to face the desk, commanding you to take off your pants and lean over it. you do exactly as he says. james takes absolutely no time to plow into you. you were expecting him to be more gentle, but for some reason you were drunk on this feeling. the way his cock is hitting your most sensitive spots over, and over again is driving you mad.

“y’know how long i’ve wanted to do this? feel you around me just like this. i bet you wanted this too, huh.”. all you can do is pathetically nod your head and quietly sob into his desk. your cries did nothing but make him twitch inside of you, groans coming deep from within his throat.

you felt your back instinctively arch further as you feel your orgasm building up. just as you were about to come undone, he stopped. you gasp as he pulls out and just looks at you. you turn around and see him stroking his length. he gently grabs your face with his free hand and tilts it downwards. you knew what he wanted. and you wanted to make him feel good.

as you got down on your knees you made sure to replace his hand with your own, setting an absurdly slow pace. you swiped your thumb across the slit that was leaking beads of precum and placed your mouth onto his tip. you slowly bobbed up and down to get accustomed to his size, and then began to take him farther and farther. james gripped your hair tightly as a disorganized string of swears left his mouth.

“so good f’me baby, being such a good girl taking me like this”.

his praises encouraged you to work your mouth even faster. the way he whimpered and moaned out your name told you he was getting close. focusing on his tip while using your hand for the rest of his cock is what sent him over the edge. he thrusted into your mouth a few times to help ride out his high. you felt so proud of yourself for making such a mess of him.

james was overstimulated and tired, but he needed to make his girl feel good. he sat you back down onto his desk and instructed you to lean back. he was drooling at the sight of your pussy all open and wet for you. he wanted to go slow with you but god you looked so desperate. he got onto one of his knees and began ravaging you. your hands are kneading as his hair as he makes circles around your clit with his tongue. the sounds are lewd but neither of you care. he’s teasing your entrance with his curled fingers before plunging them into you. the feeling of him sucking your puffy clit with the sensation of hitting your sweet spot was so overwhelming. tears ran down your face as your orgasm comes crashing over you.

james allows you to calm yourself down before helping you put your outfit back in. he wishes he had the time to give you proper aftercare and praise you for how great you made him feel, but he can’t. instead he settles for leaving a mix of small and passionate kisses all over your face while murmuring sweet praises in between each breath. as you were reaching for the doorknob james asks you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

“hey, would you like to get dinner tonight?”

before “sneakily” exiting his office you throw him a thumbs up and sweet smile. god, you could get used to this.

[cialovesklopp]

chapter two — away we go

summary — it’s her first race and the first time she has to prove herself to the harsh world of formula one. the stakes are high and everything becomes dark once the lights are out. victory is always the highest goal and some are willing to play dirty to get there.

song — genius [ sia, labrinth, lsd ]

warnings — light mentions of drugs and child negligence

word counts — 6.5k

cia’s quick rambles — here’s part two as i’d said. i apologize again for the long wait and really hope that the next chapters are going to come out at a more consistent rate. maybe every two weeks or something. in this chapter we have first conversation with max and he is officially introduced into the series. i hope i get max right as i’ve never written for him but pls, if i get something wrong, just message me. i appreciate it.

on another note, i’ll be taking a mental health break but more to that on another post. also even though i watch a lot of f1, i don’t know shit about the engineering part and am more focused on strategy so pls don’t care much about any technical engineering information that I mention 🫶🏾

( masterlist / navigation / previous / next )

— zandvoort 2023

as if the stars had already decided on her faith and following demise, her first race, where she was to prove her skills, was zandvoort. the home of their fiercest rival and dutch lion — it was enemy’s territory. but despite their small home advantage because of max aaliyah wouldn’t let that divert her from her goal.

it wasn’t just a race and the result that mattered so much to her. all the late nights at the factory, countless hours spent in the wind tunnel were about to be showcased. and aaliyah hated failure. all that work couldn’t have been for nothing. 

for her, it was her first time at the paddock and just from the way people had waited t0 see them arrive, she finally understood all the hype around elite motorsport. the paddock itself was a hive of activity, with people, who happened to cross paths with the mercedes team chef, asking for pictures. aaliyah was amazed by how easily he handled it all, it seemed so easy almost as he took picture after picture. it was a world she just did not belong to. 

roar of engines, the constant smell of burning rubber and the sight of orange wherever she looked were the reminder that she desperately needed. to realize and let it sink in where she actually was. it made her heart race, knowing how much he had dreamt of this moment and now she was living it for him. every detail, from the polished pit lane to the towering grandstands packed with excited fans, felt almost too vivid to be real.

what aaliyah definitely had not expected was for her to be the new talk of the paddock. paparazzi were blinding her with their cameras, while constantly shouting at her to new questions as she walked through the paddock. 

“why do you think you were chosen for this huge role?”

“are you sleeping with toto wolff to get this job?”

“how do you already have a phd?”

her breath hitched in her throat as the paparazzi shouted at her, it was overwhelming and unexpected. the sheer intensity of it all caught her off-guard as they made their way through the crowded paddock. 

toto, who had sensed her discomfort pushed her behind him protectively to shield her from all the questions. “aaliyah, i need you to promise me something.”

she nodded.

“if there is anything, no matter how overwhelming, you look for me directly. don’t try to handle it yourself. i’m always right there.” there was a sense of sternness in his voice but she knew he meant it well. 

and she couldn’t fault him for his protectiveness. even though outwardly she looked composed, inside she felt like a ticking time bomb, poised to explode. and she couldn’t afford to fall apart again, she'd sworn that to herself when they'd spoken about her past.

she would never go that low again.

“i know. i promise.”

aaliyah took a deep breath to get her pulse normal again and it felt like a huge weight fell off her shoulder when they finally reached the mercedes garage. they walked inside lewis’ side of the garage, past his car that had become aaliyah’s new baby and pride. 

just as promised she had brought new upgrades to the car, some a bit more recognizable others small. yet they were all significant— a result of all her hard work she auf poured into. whether it was at three in the morning or during her weekly facetime with eva. 

a few had doubted her suggestions at first and aaliyah couldn’t even blame them for being a bit hesitant towards her. i mean, how could they trust a girl that they had never heard of? a woman who had no experience in this area?

in the end it had been toto, who had forwarded her ideas which helped her set them through along with lewis’ persistence. 

she had changed the floor and brought a new rear wing and seeing the car in front of her fitted with her modifications felt like a small victory. a small part of her promise was completed. 

aaliyah put her bag on the table, that toto had directed her too and which was already equipped with two pairs of headphones. she looked knowingly at him. 

“i don’t think i’m gonna need two.”

he laughed. “schatz, du bist in der formel 1 jetzt. ich sag dir aus erfahrung, du wirst zwei brauchen.” — darling you’re in formula one now. i’m speaking from experience when i’m telling you that you’ll need two

she had gotten an entire space for herself along with an office and she still had a good view of the entire garage, especially on both sides and the data analysts. 

after arranging her desk, that would become her new working space for the next few weekends, toto led her further down the garage again where a man and lewis waited for them. 

“aaliyah, new chief —“

“technical engineer?” bono completed for her. he held out a hand, “we’ve already heard a lot about you.”

“i hope only positive things.”

bono laughed. “believe me, this guy here,” he pointed to lewis, “does not shut up about you. and the new upgrades seem very promising. that’s some terrific work.”

she nodded, sending a small smile, that showed her gratitude. “so just to check, you are lewis’ race engineer. and george’s on the other side?”

“yep. but we all always work as a team together.”

lewis turned towards her. “have you already met the other drivers?”

“was i supposed to? i’m just here to win.”

toto let out a discreet sound, that highly ressembled a snort. “love the mindset already. exactly what we need.”

“happy to deliver. but now back to actual work,” she pulled out her laptop and showed them a board of different graphics surrounding the car. 

she showed them different designs and concepts of the car that involved her upgrades and how they were supposed to work. 

after they had finished going over every little adjustment she had made, the three men bid their goodbyes and went their separate ways. lewis still had to give some interviews before stepping into the car and toto was busy doing whatever team chefs were doing. it gave aaliyah some time to think of what was coming these next days. 

entering the bathroom, aaliyah instantly headed for the sinks and splashed some cold water over her face. she rubbed her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror. 

it felt like she was fading away, replaced by a stranger in the mirror. the reflection didn't belong to her anymore; it was as if a shadow self, with a life of its own, stood there instead. she could no longer see herself in the image before her, only a ghostly echo of what once was.

the woman in the mirror was not her. she embodied empowerment, confidence— a transformation. she was the newest chief technical engineer, a groundbreaking achievement as the youngest woman and first in mercedes’ history to hold that title. she felt every bit of that power and distinction. yet, the aaliyah in the mirror seemed like someone else entirely, a reflection separate from the person she believed herself to be. the aaliyah in the mirror was different to her. 

aaliyah wondered: did she also have that constant feeling of something nagging away her soul? if she also felt the kind of pain that led to itching on your entire skin? that aching kind of guilt that was capable of weighing like the entire world? 

aaliyah wondered, "did she too feel that ever-present gnawing at her soul? that relentless itch beneath the skin, that pain that bit and stung like a constant reopening scar? the guilt so heavy, it felt like the weight of the whole world?"

her therapist had already told her that she was suffering from survivor’s guilt. from living while another person found themselves buried six feet under. and there was nothing she could do except live his fucking dream as if it was hers. 

“you’re going to ace this. and you’ll be the fucking best. and you’ll prove to that bitch that you deserved to be her daughter.” 

whoever said that self-pep talks were a waste of time clearly never found themselves in a place where everything felt black and white. as aaliyah stepped out of the bathroom, a hint of color returned to her life—some of the confidence she'd lost after the accident. no, it wasn’t a waste of time at all.

but did she need these words? absolutely, she did. especially after her mother abandoned her, forcing her to practically disown herself. she truly did.

aaliyah had been completely lost in her thoughts, her mind going over the different upgrades she had added to the car that she did not see the person walking opposite to her. i mean who could blame her with all the commotion on the paddock? looking up and staring at everyone would be exhausting. 

she only looked up from the ground again when she was met with a vast chest acting like a wall and making her phone and office map fall down. 

“es tut mir so le— fuck, wrong language. i am so sorry,” aaliyah rambled, kneeling down to pick up all the papers that had fallen out, particularly those that had her sketches and designs for the car. 

“oh, it’s okay. nothing happened. let me help you,” he, as aaliyah could make out, joint her on the floor. she could make out a strong accent but couldn’t exactly place where it was from. somehow that felt like a relief— at least in meant, she would never have to see him again. 

he moved to pick up one of the several documents but aaliyah stopped him. 

“you really don’t have to help me, this was my fault.”

he shook his head and assembled the rest of the papers, handing them to her before standing up from the dirty asphalt. aaliyah rose to her feet again and used the split second she had to get a full look of the man in front of her. 

his dark blonde hair was hidden under a blue cap, matching the color of his shirt. to her, he appeared quite ordinary, much like any other man she had encountered here. however, his blue eyes immediately caught her attention—they were unmistakably familiar, and she was certain she had seen them before.

why did her mind always betray her at crucial moments like this? she had no idea. it’s like her own thoughts turned against her, and honestly, she was not surprised.

“you didn’t have to. i would have managed.”

“and get marched over by all the people here?” he pointed towards all the people around them, all going into different directions that made it look like complete chaos on the paddock. 

a small grin appeared on her lips. “but this was my fault anyway. i wasn’t looking where i was going.”

“i could say the same,” he smiled at her softly. god, he was charming, aaliyah thought to herself. “is your phone okay?”

right, her phone that had shattered on the ground. “yes, my phone is fine, no scratches,” she said, though it clearly wasn’t. she had no interest in continuing the conversation, especially with someone who, upon closer inspection, was clearly wearing red bull merch—an obvious sign of the enemy.

“that doesn’t look like it. i can see the display.”

she laughed nervously. “yeah, but that’s only my business phone. i literally never use it.” at least there was a hint of truth in that.

“okay, that’s a relief. but are you su—“

aaliyah shook her head, “yes, it’s perfectly fine. sorry again and hope you have a nice day.”

he chuckled. “you too. let’s hope you don’t bump into other people anymore.”

aaliyah turned around, not even facing him anymore as she mumbled a small “yeah let’s hope so.” 

she had to get away before any news outlets or paparazzis caught her talking with max verstappen. toto would definitely have her head. 

she had anticipated saturday to be a busy day but actually living and being a part of it was a whole other level. the changements she had made on the car, even though only minute, had brought noticeable changes to the car.  commentators had instantly noticed it during the first free practice sessions and fans had picked it up during the third one. but they didn’t connect her name to it yet. 

just as the data had predicted, the w14 was responding perfectly to the improvements, with lewis even telling them on his radio that he definitely felt quicker on the straights. and the tyre management had increased significantly too. 

however quali was not the same thing as free practice. which is why she nearly spent the entire night at the paddock, going over the car again. it had been toto who had forced her to leave after catching a light still being on at 2 am. 

toto couldn’t know that aaliyah drove herself tirelessly, haunted by a fear that sleep would pull her back into the wreckage of that accident, dragging her into a circle of guilt from which she never seemed to escape.

maybe she wasn’t as okay as she thought. but who could be with a gifted brain treated as a nuisance their whole life? aaliyah didn’t think anyone would be.

“you ready for your first qualifying?” lewis asked her as they stood at her desk, going over the latest data. 

aaliyah shrugged. “i’m not sure. i wouldn’t really describe it as nervous. i just really don’t want to fail.”

“well, you know my motto: still we rise. it’s okay to fall down once a while,” replied lewis.

she nudged him lightly although a small grin had showed up on her lips. “maybe but not on my first race. and now get into the car before your fans accuse me to have let you out too late. we need the data and a good position if we want to catch up to ferrari and those bulls.”

he lifted his hands in surrender. “understood, i’m already going.” 

her eyes followed him as she watched him walk away before sitting down correctly at her desk. the entire garage was buzzing from the upgrades working and with that recent development, they had put all eyes on them. everyone was now waiting for them to actually put their hard work to show where it actually mattered: qualifying. 

but she was proud, watching as the cars raced around the track, putting in best sectors. she had ordered for both george and lewis, to be firstly put on new mediums before switching back to the used soft. the same tactic had been used again, when both cars had gotten to q2. and now was the time for q3, where everything was decided. 

aaliyah wouldn’t describe herself as greedy but she desperately longed for that feeling of satisfaction if the cars qualified above p5. it would be a silent, unspoken confirmation that she wasn’t so out of place as she thought. 

“so lewis, we’re letting you and george out now to put a few laps down before we change tyres again to the used softs from q2 since we raced the fewest laps with them. that way we can have them for the race at the beginning,” aaliyah told lewis over the radio. 

“copy that.”

the two black cars exited the garage again and aaliyah moved her eyes back to the screen. the two red bull cars were already on the track and max verstappen had already done two purple sectors. something that was not so unusual anymore from what she had heard. 

george and lewis had done two laps before going back to the pit again, while aaliyah went over the gained data with the other analysts and strategists. she had already figured out that the trickiest part for the car was sector two, as it was there that the silver arrows were losing the most time. the goal was now to turn the wrong into the right. 

“sector one and three are looking good lewis, try to push more in sector two,” said bono over the radio. 

aaliyah also pushed the radio button. “and george, be careful. you already have track limits warnings.”

as the session unfolded, she watched with anticipation where the few changes they had taken from friday to saturday could leave them. she could see the way the two drivers were pushing the car to its limits and just like the rest of the mercedes staff, she held her breath when lewis and george were putting in their last times. 

“oh my god,” she let out and put a hand over her mouth. “p5 for george and…”

“p2 for lewis,” bono told her with a huge smile plastered on his face. the entire garage erupted into cheers and applause was heard from everywhere. “the upgrades are working brilliantly.”

toto walked over to them and engulfed aaliyah in a side hug. “p2, not bad for your first race. congratulations, you did amazing. those upgrades were incredible work.”

“but this wasn’t just my work, it’s the entire team that worked its ass off.”

“still, your upgrades made this possible. can’t believe we’re actually a threat on enemy’s territory.”

“but it does feel good,” added another voice and aaliyah turned to find george walking towards them, still in his race suit with his helmet underneath his arm.

she was caught off-guard when he also all of the sudden pulled her into a hug, his face still glistening with sweat. “the car felt amazing out there. we were actually competing for pole again.”

“like i said, this was all a team effort. and you and lewis did amazing out there,” she replied modestly, her face a mixture of relief and excitement. “tell me, is qualifying always this nerve-wrecking?”

“believe me, tomorrow will be twice as hard.”

toto sent her a reassuring smile. “it’ll be okay, you get used to it. and this is the perfect start for the first race after the big summer break here. so keep up the good work and this might be every weekend.”

“what are the chances for a win tomorrow?”

“well, those red bulls are basically space rockets. their speed on the straights is unmatched. but good strategy should bring us a double podium at least,” aaliyah explained. she looked at her watch again and then at george. “by the way shouldn’t you be giving out interviews?”

george waved dismissively. “they don’t mind me coming late. all the questions will probably be about you as our new engineering wizard.”

aaliyah rolled her eyes at his teasing undertone. “my only job is to make sure that the car looks good. i don’t know what’s there to be called magic.”

“maybe but seriously, the car felt fantastic. the upgrades really improved the tyre management and this new ground speed was definitely helpful during drs.”

did her ego grow twice now after hearing it from george? maybe not. but she could not deny that it didn’t feel good, hearing that her changes were successful. 

"glad to hear about that, g. now we just have to analyse sector 2 because that’s where we lose the  most seconds.”

he nodded and then leaned in, lowering his voice. “can i ask you something?”

“as long as it’s not a date.”

george gasped and looked at her with an overdramatic, offended expression. “you? never. and i love carmen too much.”

aaliyah grinned. “same, can’t wait to meet her. so what did you wanna ask?”

he lowered his mouth to her ear again. “you think you could make my car faster than lewis so overtaking him will become easier?”

“are you already gossiping without me? and i thought we had a mutual agreement concerning gossip,” a new voice called out and they turned to see lewis arriving, not in his racesuit anymore and with a drink in his hands. 

aaliyah smiled at him playfully. 

“it wasn’t anything important anyway. and congratulations for p2.”

“wouldn’t have been possible without you. the upgrades are fantastic.”

toto suddenly clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention and interrupting them. "so, team, debrief in ten minutes and then strategy meeting for tomorrow. if we play our cards right, we can have our first win tomorrow.”

the ten minutes had only been sufficient for a small coffee break before they were expected again for the debrief. 

she felt proud of herself for achieving this accomplishment and making the car better but at the same time this nagging feeling she had experienced in the bathroom earlier had not truly gone away. 

specifically, after the debrief she could not stop thinking about what would happen if she failed or disappointed toto. she would have to go back to munich again, stuck in that hopeless circle of despair while trying to find her place in the world. these past weeks had given her a little taste of what she could belong to; what it felt like to have a whole safety net she could rely on again. 

losing it would crush her. 

that constant fear she carried around with her was also part of the reason, why even after the debrief was concluded, she stayed back to analyse some more data. george and lewis had asked her to join them for dinner but she had declined politely, wanting to perfect her work. 

that constant fear she carried was like an invisible tide, pulling her deeper into her work. even after the debrief ended, she lingered, absorbed in her data, as if trying to outpace the relentless current of her anxiety. george and lewis had invited her to dinner, but she had declined politely, wanting to perfection her work.

aaliyah wanted the small taste of victory she had gotten today to last and she needed to put the work behind it. especially because the world of f1 was harsh and critics were ruthless. so she allowed herself to savor the moment but always with the reminder that it could be over as quick as it had started. 

it was toto who had to drag her out of the office at way past eleven again. the sound of footsteps echoed in the empty corridor but aaliyah pushed it aside, assuming it was just security or cleaning services. she was too focused on her work, even though her body screamed tiredness, to comprehend what was going on around her. 

“you do know that in order to win, we need you alive right?” 

aaliyah turned around, a small yawn escaping and looked up to see toto standing in the doorway. his facial expression was a mix of concern and soft astonishment. 

“why are you asking that?”

toto shrugged, stepping into the room. “i’m just reminding you. i don’t need my newest chief technical engineer to die from lack of sleep. why didn’t you join george and lewis for dinner?”

she sighed, reluctantly closing her laptop. “i thought spending the evening with some data was more appealing than some pasta.”

“and you say you love pasta?”

aaliyah feigned a look of horror. "i adore pasta but work has priorities. there was still so much to do; like i worked on our strategies for tomorrow again and i think we could apply some of these things like,” she rummaged through all the papers on the table and handed toto a messy sketch.

“for a better airflow we could amply this. maybe that will help them during sector two because that’s always where we lost the most time. and then in case ferrari is going on a similar strategy, i have developed a plan e and f that i just have to go over with the strategy crew and bono. you know, since lewis is going second.”

toto nodded, clearly impressed but there was also concern across his face. “when was the last time you slept for more than five hours?”

as she thought about his question, toto snorted. “the fact that you have to think about it says enough. come on, i’ll drive you to the hotel.”

“but what about the other—”

“anything else can be done tomorrow,” he cut her off, grabbing a part of her things. “look aaliyah, i know the f1 world is harsh but there’s a balance between life and success. working yourself to death won’t do it. so how about you let that brain of yours rest a bit?”

“i’m not tired, i’m fine. sleep’s overrated anyway.”

toto threw a quick glance at the small trash bin where he could identify three empty cups of coffee. 

“but no sleep is not the goal. come on, let’s get going. don’t make me call eva.”

aaliyah rose an eyebrow. “why would you call eva?”

“she told me that in case you have one of your brain episodes, where you can’t stop overthinking, i should call her in case it becomes too much,” his eyes softened as he looked at her. “she cares about you. very much.”

aaliyah smiled softly. “she’s the closest thing i have to a family with gabriella and jan.”

“yeah, and the least i can do is bring you back in one piece to them. so come on, let’s get you to bed.”

she considered it, then smiled. "fine, this time you win.”

the two walked out of the garage together, the night air cool against their skin as they exited the paddock. the night sky was shining bright above them as they walked past all the other boxes, a small smile appearing on aaliyah’s lips when toto put a hand around her shoulder. 

tomorrow could definitely come now.

 

race day dawned bright and clear and announced itself early in the morning with aaliyah having to wake up at eight. so much for getting more sleep. but she had to admit that she had been tired — as soon as she had entered her room, she was knocked out. 

she couldn't even remember how she had gotten into her bed or when her head had touched the pillow, everything from last night was a blur. 

thinking back to yesterday and how there was a clear gap in her mind made aaliyah think back to another time she had lived too. when she was just that empty person with no aspirations or goals, lacking any kind of direction and just floating through life. 

her thoughts wandered back to when running the entire day on chemicals was the only way for her to survive. the only means to keep her from drowning in the weight of unrelenting expectations and emotions she was carrying with her. 

but that time was over — or at least she thought so it was her past. focus was now on the future and the race.

after the dutch national anthem had been performed, the drivers went back to the garage shortly before joining their teams and their cars on the starting grid. aaliyah’s eyes traveled around her surroundings as she walked towards the w14, all the stands blurring to a sea of orange. the dutch fans had turned up proudly in their home colors to support their hometown boy.

she was relieved but also a bit surprised to see toto beside her but shrugged it off and the two walked to george’s car first after sharing a small smile. 

“you here to give me a last few words?” george asked her playfully which had aaliyah roll her eyes. 

“i don’t know; do you need them?”

“well, i’ve already gotten my pep talk from carmen but a few last encouraging words have never hurted,” he replied. 

aaliyah patted him softly on the back. “well, russell george; i’m sure you’ll ace this. a few positions should be in the game for us. you just have to push.”

“copy that chef. thanks aaliyah,” they exchanged a last high five before she let toto talk with his driver and headed up to lewis’ car. 

next to his car was the glorious rb19, the rocketship she was desperately trying to beat and outmaster. since she didn’t want to look suspicious, however, aware of all the cameras around them, she quickly turned around, giving it a last glance before focusing on the black car in front of her. 

lewis was already seated in his car so she bent down to talk with him. 

“are you nervous?” the british world champion asked her once they exchanged small greetings. 

aaliyah shrugged. “a bit, it’s my first race. i don’t want to screw up by making a wrong choice. quali has nothing on actual race day.”

she didn’t know why but lewis somehow always understood her. they didn’t have to talk much or share many words to know what the other was thinking. 

aaliyah vermutete that it was because of their struggles, that were so similar, that made connecting to each other so much easier. 

“i remember my first one, i don’t think i even slept. i was so nervous and excited.”

“believe me, toto had to drag me out of here at half past one.”

lewis grabbed her hand in a comforting way. “hey, no matter what position i end up today, you did great. for the first time since 2022 i feel comfortable again in the car.”

she nodded reluctantly. “then let’s hope the car is ready for the next race. i want to experience a real win.”

“i’m sure we will be back in monza. maybe even get an actual win. but let’s focus on this race first.”

“indian on me if you make a podium.”

“already telling you now, thanks for dinner.”

aaliyah shook her head at him, a huge smile on her face, and walked back to the garage. after sharing a quick greeting with mick, she took her respective seat next to toto and focused her eyes on the screen in front of her. 

a quick glance at the time told her it was only one minute till the lights went out. one last round till it actually started. whether she succeeded or failed, the press would know her name by the end of the day. aaliyah still had to choose if that was a good or bad thing, the entire scrutiny she would be living under now. 

“now the magic happens,” whispered toto. 

the formation lap had ended and all the cars were in starting position. three lights had already gone out. 

“i hope i used the right spell.” the lights were finally out and with it, the race started. 

lewis managed to gain the lead in the first ten laps, overtaking max at the start, but it was clear to aaliyah, after a quick look at the data, that he wouldn’t be able to hold that position.

george on the hand seemed to do well with his mediums and had moved up to fourth place after overtaking charles leclerc. both drivers had been set on the same strategy to maximize the gains and maybe have a double podium so aaliyah left them some time, choosing against putting them. 

“how many seconds could we gain if we pit george now and try to undercut the norris?” toto asked her when the gap between george and norris came down to 3 seconds. 

“depends on how his tires are at the moment. for now, none of the top six have boxed yet,” she looked at george’s times and then at marcus, his race engineer. “tell him he can push a bit more and close the gap to norris.”

marcus looked at her with curiosity. “and when do you want to box him?”

“we will undercut the moment he is close enough to overtake. that way norris will push his tires and when he boxes, we box lewis too. that should stop an undercut on us.”

he nodded. “so plan c it is.”

aaliyah pressed the radio button for lewis. “so lewis, i just wanted to inform you that we’re going for plan c.”

“copy that.”

“how are your tires?”

“i still have grip so they’re okay. i can still last on them. by the way is the indian you promised me vegan?”

“i don’t know, i haven’t looked for a place yet. you have to win the podium first.”

“copy that.”

aaliyah looked down to hide her grin and rolled her eyes, clearly amused by lewis. 

just as she had predicted, mclaren did call in lando norris the moment they realized the undercut that had been performed on them. and it became even more unfortunate for them when they saw lewis being called in right after them for a set of hard tyres. 

the rest of the race went in their favor even if they couldn’t compete for the win. after they had completed the pit stop, lewis had regained second place again and george had moved up to third with the undercut clearly working. and the latter had created such a big gap afterwards to norris in fourth place, that it had given them an extra pit stop which they could use to box for soft tyres and chase after the fastest lap. 

so although max verstappen had still claimed victory on home ground, aaliyah wasn’t disappointed. it wasn’t happiness she was feeling; more like content. satisfaction to her avoidance of failure. 

and she could add gratefulness to it when she watched lewis and george on the podium steps, happily raising their trophies in the air. the cheers from the mercedes garage were deafening, the joy contagious as they celebrated their success. one could even think that it was them who had won. 

while the rest of the team went to greet the two drivers and get ready for the podium celebration, aaliyah stayed back. she had already congratulated lewis and george on the radio and could talk to them later after the prize giving ceremony. 

as she placed back her headphones, toto walked up to her. he smiled at her knowingly and without warning pulled her into a hug too. 

“you did great this weekend. this wouldn’t have been possible without your work.”

“this was teamwork. and it was just my first weekend. monza is going to be different.”

he smirked at her. “already memorizing the calendar?”

“i like to be prepared. i have to outsmart the competition.”

“and how do you feel? do you feel that rush?”

aaliyah nodded. “it’s like lewis told me. the whole reason this sport is so endearing is because it keeps you alive. like a drug.” 

she wished she had been addicted to that and not the whole chemical stuff she had snorted up her nose to feel alive. 

“yeah, it’s like that. man hat seine höhen und tiefen in diesem sport. aber deswegen ist es wert.” — you have your highs and lows in this sport. but that’s what makes it worthwhile.

aaliyah smirked. “i’m going to crush them. today was good, a sweet taste but i can do more; do better.”

toto patted her on her shoulder. “i’m excited for your future work.”

“it’s going to be brilliant.”

even though they had just celebrated another win, the vibe in the red bull garage was the complete opposite. it wasn’t sad in the garage — everyone was still buzzed and cheery because of the good weekend, but there was an air of caution also in the air. there was a distant taste of urgency in the air that had not been addressed yet but could not be ignored any longer. 

because now an actual threat, that they had thought could be ignored, had risen again. 

and christian horner wouldn’t be who he was if he hadn’t already thought about the measures they had to take to make sure to stay on the top. he had watched the race data repeatedly, analysed it again after the podium ceremony and each time, it worried him more when he looked at the times from the mercedes cars.

the rb19 had been the quickest car on the grid again but the margin to the other teams became smaller and smaller, each race that passed. and somehow mercedes had done an incredible jump and had even surpassed the ferraris, concerning closing the gap to them. they may still have their rocketship but it was clearly looking like mercedes was making the transformation from jet to rocketship too. 

taking a deep breath, his eyes travelled the room before they finally fell on the winner from today’s race and sergio perez, his second driver. both had already finished with their media commitments and horner motioned for them to follow him into his office. the two drivers followed, both clueless about what had their boss not enjoy the victory party. 

his office was neat, clean and strictly organized. nothing was out of place and no item that stood in his pristine office was not without a reason in its place. trophies, helmets and photographs could all be seen in the background, either on shelves or hung on the wall. max and sergio both took a seat and looked at christian expectantly. 

the red bull principal shut the door before joining them at his desk. he let out a sigh. “so. i hate to bring this up now, especially after such a fantastic and productive day but i fear there’s no path to escape what is coming.”

“is something wrong with the car?” asked checo. 

“not in that way. however mercedes have apparently gotten their things back together because the upgrades they’ve brought are working,” he explained to them. “we got off the hook today as i think they didn’t want to risk a few grid penalties but monza could become difficult.”

max let out a small scoff. “we have the best car on the fucking grid. and who cares if we don’t always win with a one-lap-gap. as long as we win and win the constructor’s championship, everything is fine. it’s too late for them too catch up.”

“but they were incredibly strong today. things could have gone slightly different today. they were not playing and from what the data shows me, their ground speed has improved a lot too. they are catching up and quick,” he argued frustratedly.

max shrugged, not really seeing what there was to worry about. because even if the car wasn’t the best anymore, he was still the best driver and he didn’t need the fastest car to win. he was capable of winning with the second fastest car; he had done it before. “we’ve got adrian. and hannah is also the best. we are still unbeatable and the championship is practically decided too.”

“but we shouldn’t ignore that we can’t race too comfortably anymore,” checo replied, agreeing with christian. 

“exactly. something is telling me that these next races are going to be tough. today wasn’t just luck for mercedes.”

max leaned back in his seat. “okay, and what do you want us to do?”

christian looked between the two drivers. “i know that mercedes brought a new chief technical engineer on board.”

checo nodded. “yes, lewis did mention something about a new engineer and the ideas had been her idea. apparently she’s the one making a difference there.”

“and i want you two to spy a bit on them and see what you can find out. find her, try to talk to her. i’ve never heard of her so she must be new to the sport which means she’s also more prone to making mistakes.”

checo spoke up. "but we don’t want this to become another spygate."

“of course not. i’m not saying, find her and instantly bombard her with question. be subtle and smart about it,” he turned towards max. “use your charm. maybe she’ll slip something. from what i saw, she’s young.”

he was still very displeased with the idea but gave in at last. “fine, i’ll see what george could tell me amybe. but i don’t really think this is necessary.”

“maybe we’re overreacting but from what i heard, they want to bring in another set of upgrades to monza and if those work, the victory might as well be theirs.”

“don’t worry we got this.” they reassured him before leaving the office to join the festivities outside again. christian watched them go and leaned back in his chair. while he had deep trust in max and checo, some things had to be done alone. especially in formula one, where everyone was a shark, holding out their nose for the smell of fresh blood. 

off the track, they may all be friendly with each other but on it— that was the hunting ground and playing nice ended in nothing. no one could truly succeed by always playing by the book. those were the risks that made the sport so thrilling and alive. 

digging was only the first of the things he would be doing to get behind whatever mercedes were planning. getting his hands dirty was the least of his worries if it meant staying on top. it’s only too bad, that the same truth that brought him to the top could get her six feet under.

[fanficriter]

Tamaki Amajiki x reader

Warnings: Death, nightmares, drowning, reader definitely has ptsd

Notes: Pulled this out of my ass at 3 in the morning it’s definitely trash. Not proof read

Reader gets called princess

——————————————————————————Water, screams, death, and drowning.

That’s all you knew at that point

Your quirk couldn’t help this. Your quirk couldn’t help them. You couldn’t help them.

You’re no hero, You’re a failure, a monster.

A villain…

At least that’s what the mother of the boy you weren’t able to save spat at you.

That’s what that little boy cried when you had to break his heart, telling him you weren’t able to save his father.

You sit up in a sweat, memories from that day 4 years ago flood your mind as you drown in your tears. You only just now notice the hand who shook you awake, resting on your shoulder. You whip your head to the side to find your boyfriend, a worried look in his eyes.

“Tama…”

You say in a broken whisper. You lunge yourself into his arms as he strokes your hair.

“Shh, shh. I-Its okay… you’re okay. It’s over.”

He coos. His voice was comforting. It always is. It helped. It helped when you got home that night 4 years ago, drenched in water, sweat and tears. It helped when you cried in his arms. He’d never seen you cry like that. It helped those few months when you couldn’t be near a body of water without your heart rate spiking, and panic arising in your body.

“I couldn’t help them, Tama! It’s- it’s my fault! I-“

“No. No it’s not… S-stop saying that”

He interrupts you, his eyes not leaving yours.

“Breath. In and out, just like we practiced, yea?”

He sits in front of you, your hands in his, then starts taking a deep breath, and you follow. In and out. Until your cries were reduced to small hiccups and sniffs. You look up at him, his adoring eyes staring straight back into your shattered ones.

“It’s been 4 years, Tama… I-i’m supposed to be better! I can’t-“

Your hands move to your head, tugging on your hair. Tamaki quickly shuts it down, taking back your hands, kissing your knuckles softly.

“P-princess… You’ve come so far. Just because you get a nightmare every so often, doesn’t mean your progress is lost.”

He murmurs. You try to deny it, but as always, Tamaki continues to be the perfect boyfriend.

“Remember when you couldn’t take showers? Or when the nightmares would come every night? I-i hate that you can’t see how much progress you’re making e-everyday, Darling…”

He holds your face in his hands before leaning down, gently kissing you. Pulling away, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You have been carrying a world of burden on your shoulders…”

He gently pulls you back to lay your head on his chest, softly petting your hair as he kisses the top of your head.

“You can set the world down now, love.”

[heathsbitch]

PAINKILLER - k.b

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Slight allusion to smut (if you squint), poor proof reading (as usual)

Word Count: 1184

A/N: Hi my lovelies! I know this has been a long time coming so I hope you enjoy. I haven’t written in a while so this might not be one of my best works but there should be more to come in the near future. I hope you enjoy!

Shadows engulfed our bodies, cascaded over our skin as our breath mingled with one another. The cold climate of Ketterdam allowed us to see our breath dance together in the small space between our faces. Short pants left both of us, eyes darting back to the threshold of the alley, anxiously scanning for any Dime Lions who were hunting for us. Yet again, one of Kaz Brekker’s infallible plans (his words directly) had collapsed faster than Jesper trying to resist the call of the cards. Another job gone awry, another pursuit through the murky streets of Ketterdam.

As protocol demanded of us, the other Crows and I had split into pairs in order to escape from the scene of the crime. And, of course, I had to end up with the Bastard of the Barrel himself. It was his fault the job had gone amiss; he had miscalculated how long it would take his deft fingers to pry into the lock of the safe. Ever skilful with his hands, we trusted him blindly. But we were swarmed by Dime Lions before Kaz could bypass the lock, much to everyone’s chagrin. Frustration still clouded my mind as I glared at my boss; his head lent against the damp stone wall of the alley, chest heaving with deep breaths. My eyes followed the sharp lines of his jaw, the shadows that covered us accentuating them. His tongue slipped past the barrier of his thin lips to moisten them before he allowed his eyes a moments rest, a great sigh escaping from his broad chest.

I was desperate to know what was raging through his head; perhaps he shared in my anger at the failure of a job, or maybe he held no remorse at all, merely considering the next job he’d send us on. My theories were soon discarded however, as I saw him move a singular gloved hand to his stomach, his breaths still deep but more controlled. Despite the fact that Kaz and I would often bicker and bite at one another, I was one of his most trusted compatriots; and I knew what most did not. The truth about his childhood, the demons that threatened to drag him into the depths of the water where his brother resided, the bile that promised to rise from his throat if he were to come into contact with another human being.

I pushed my back harder against the alley wall, trying to distance myself from my boss in a desperate attempt to provide him with some relief. Either my effort went unnoticed, or he didn’t care, for the next words that came from his mouth were, “Stop staring.”

“I’m not staring.” I was quick to respond, pressing myself further against the wall in another futile attempt to widen the space between us. “Then what are you doing?” His eyes were back on me, scanning me; ice following every slight movement of my face, every twitch of my lips, searching for the truth as if it were about to appear written on my forehead. “Checking for injuries,” I simply replied, my talents as not only a Grisha, but a healer, had been put to use countless times after jobs had gone astray. Or Jesper had ended up pissing off some poor soul that ended in a bar fight neither wanted. He merely hummed as a response before his eyes went back to the opening of the alley, scouting for Dime Lions again.

The sun had begun to set on Ketterdam, more and more people filtered onto the streets; laughter, smells of cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol had started to float among the airwaves. Night was falling, the streets growing more crowded by the second, filled with inhabitants desperate for some form of sin. “We should move.” I suggested, fidgeting with my hands. Discomfort still lurked between us, “We can’t risk moving, not yet. We need to stay low,” He ran a hand through his dark hair, the strands slipping through his fingers as they found their place against his forehead. Kaz shifted on his feet, and I could see he was trying to think of his next move, planning a way for us to escape from the alley without being cornered by the Lions.  

“Come here.” He muttered; words barely eligible over the sounds of various forms of pleasure that had crowded the streets of Ketterdam. “Excuse me?” To say I was shocked at his declaration would have been an understatement. The man in front of me nodded towards the opening of the alley, directing my attention to couples that had chosen that space to indulge in one another. Hands wandered against bodies, mouths collided with mouths, “If the Dime Lions come looking for us here, all they’ll find is people enjoying each other.” He had taken a step closer to me, no longer leaning his back against the dame alley wall. “But Kaz...” I tried to protest, thinking of the demons that were lurking behind his cold eyes.

He reached a gloved hand towards mine and pulled it towards him, more specifically his stomach. “Try.” I knew what he meant; we had mentioned it in passing before but had never got the chance to try it. I had proposed the idea that perhaps my abilities as a Corporalki could ease the nausea that filled him every time he came into contact with someone else. My eyes slipped shut as my fingers flexed, trying to find the pain that lurked within him; his hand remained wrapped around my wrist, pushing my fingers harder against himself. Even through the multiple layers of clothing, I could feel his muscles taut and tensing under my touch.

A whimper of relief left Kaz’s thin lips as he threw his head back once more, “Fuck.” It was working. I looked at the man in front of me as I continued to work at his pain. His eyes found me, “Kiss me.” He whispered. Unsure of whether the sudden urge for intimacy was to keep up the rouse of a couple, or if it came as a result of his new-found relief, I obliged his request.

Tentatively, I let my lips find his. Another moan came from Kaz, this time more guttural and primal. His hips pushed into mine, my back hitting the wall of the alley. His gloved fingers slid around my waist as the once-gentle kiss deepened. Our teeth collided, tongues dancing, hips grinding into one another. The surprise that filled my mind at his request had slowly begun to sink away, instead replaced by another feeling. One of hunger, of lust, for the Bastard of the Barrel, the very same Bastard who refused to come within an inch of another human being if he had the choice. The very same Bastard whose mouth was connected to mine, whose hands wondered the softer parts of my body, aimlessly grabbing and squeezing at the flesh. He was a man starved; a tortured man who had finally found relief, and was desperate to work out the frustrations that had amassed within his body.

You can find my other Kaz writings in my Masterlist.

[hood-ex]

Kinda wish Dick expressed some form of loneliness and isolation as his reasoning for having more heroes in Bludhaven at the moment. He could have easily reminisced about his time in Chicago, Spyral, and his days as Ric to express a loss of connection with his loved ones. Plus, then he lost Alfred and Bea, so that feeling of loneliness could have been amplified, and he could've made the choice to reconnect with people by asking them to stop by Bludhaven (and if trouble happened to occur while so-and-so person was visiting him then... that would feel more natural than all of Dick's family and friends always being on standby to swarm to Bludhaven for any little thing).

It would have especially made sense following the Ric arc since Dick wasn't keeping up with his friends or family members while he had amnesia. Once he got his memories back, he could've wanted to catch up on everything he missed and double-checked that his memories were in working order. All the guest appearances would've felt more purposeful that way, and it would've been a way for Dick to express some of his internal struggles (and we would see some stuff from the amnesia arc play out in an interesting way such as one of Dick's friends commenting on the fact that Dick actually has beer stocked in his fridge now, which is something he never did before because he wouldn't really drink, and Dick knows the beer habit is thanks to Ric's lifestyle, but he feels kind of uncomfortable talking about it, so he plays it off).

It would also explain why Dick was fine with having the Titans relocate the base to Bludhaven. With the Titans living in the Tower again, it would've been interesting to see Dick try and fail to reconnect with his friends like he wanted, and his failure to do so would be his own fault. Like maybe the Titans would have a movie night, but Dick wouldn't be able to take his attention off the Heartless situation, and he would end up isolating himself from the group by overworking himself. So then we would've not only had Dick facing an external problem (i.e. Heartless) but also an internal one (desire to reconnect but keeps himself from experiencing said connection by being a workaholic). And that way Dick would have more depth in this run.

[belit0]

Would you be willing to write angst where Madara and indra (separately) finally broke the last straw and they and their lover have a heated argument. It escalates to the point where she threatens to take off her ring. How would they react. (The argument was their fault.)

I am convinced Indra is one of those persons who says hurtful things without feeling it just to make the other one angry, and no one can change my mind.

Indra

He knows the argument is his fault, he is aware of how he pressures (Y/N), and how she feels lesser for not being able to give him a child. It is no one's fault really, only the Otsutsuki's impatience and helplessness for not being able to control nature itself.

Indra is mighty in every way, the most powerful man in the world, but he is failing at the one fundamental task of his present time: to conceive an heir and start a clan with his own blood.

He does not know where the failure lies, he has no idea if it is because of him or (Y/N), all he cares about is how he fills his wife with his seed every single night, hoping for an immediate result that never comes. It is frustrating, having achieved the most difficult goal of his life, conquered everything he wanted, and not being able to achieve the most common and ordinary task of any man.

An afternoon of problems is when he explodes against his beloved, bearing the pressures of his followers and resolving situations within the village he managed to create after his victory. Everyone counts on him, everyone needs him, and the pressure of authority becomes exhausting.

(Y/N), worried about her inability to grant him an heir, seeks validation and reaffirmation from him. She just needs to hear everything is okay, that they will get through it together, and that patience will be the greatest virtue for them both to get through the predicament, finally getting a child. The woman goes to her husband's private training camp, where she always counts on being able to find him. The man senses her arrival and stops his practice to give her his attention. "It's nothing urgent, my love, I'm just worried."

With a cold stare, Indra hides his concern, refusing to let his wife see the worry is shared. Unable to show he feels fear about it too, he chooses a distant stance, kicking the problem down on her, "You should be, it's been a while since we started trying."

"You talk like it's my fault...we have no idea what's going on and-" (Y/N) is interrupted by curt words, throwing responsibility on her actions, as if she doesn't want to have a family with him.

"I'm not certain about that, and I'm afraid consequences must happen soon." The Otsutsuki glares at her, red-eyed from his height, inwardly regretting not knowing how to put his feelings into words without hurting her in the process. He knows his position will only lead to trouble, but he can't do anything about it, riding a train with no brakes.

"Consequences...would you risk all our years together for a stone in the road...? Indra, I've been with you from the beginning, long before everything that happened..." There are tears in (Y/N)'s eyes, threatening an early free fall down her face. The woman stares at him in disbelief, genuinely mortified with every response she receives. Does her company mean nothing to him, the unconditional love she gave him through all their moments?

"My life was built upon losing people I believed to love. If I had to lose you for this, it wouldn't be news, (Y/N)." His sentences are like many kunai burying themselves in different parts of her body, and the woman can do nothing but rethink everything until now.

"You should probably keep this then." She throws the gift he gave her on their wedding night, a beautiful ring engraved and embedded in red gemstones, at his feet. Pain is visible on her features, and the anger with which she turns away from him is palpable.

Worst of all, Indra does not feel any of the words he said. He would never abandon her, even if it meant not being able to bear children of his own blood. He cannot control the image he pretends to have in the outside world, even if that includes hurting those he truly cares about.

(Y/N) has been with him since before his curse, was with him during his eternal fight with Ashura, and helped him build the place he now calls his. She is his safe space, his little home, but he can't help the awful unreasonable words flowing out of his mouth in frustration, anger, and rage. She knows him, and understands he's usually a pain in the ass to argue with, but this time she seems to have been truly affected by his statements.

Maybe he took it too far, without even meaning to.

He picks up the ring at his feet and puts it in his pocket before deciding to run, get away from the place, and find a distant and remote village to kill every single one of its inhabitants. Indra lashes out at the life of all the innocents he finds in the tiny town, destroying children, women, and fathers alike.

His anger is directed at himself, raging at his inability to control and suppress his reflex to hurt others. Of course, ironic to analyze his own self while dismembering humans left and right.

Madara

It is in the early evening when Madara decides to leave in search of (Y/N). Having arrived earlier than usual, he wanted to surprise her at home, but she was nowhere to be found. He opted to go to Izuna and ask about her, his brother always being everywhere and nowhere, knowing the whereabouts of every person in the clan.

The younger Uchiha recounts how he saw her walking a while ago, presumably towards the local Uchiha market, intending to buy something to make Madara some dinner. How Izuna knows so many details is none of his concern, yet he is grateful for the information.

Arriving at the market, he scans the place for her presence, too tired to use the Sharingan and deciding to do it the old-fashioned way. He walks among the stalls and greets every person who dares to speak to him, being stopped many more times than he would like at this hour.

As he talks to a little old lady, he sees her in the distance, having a very animated conversation with a man he recognizes from his army. He is an average warrior, one of the many Uchiha who never managed to develop a Sharingan, and he is too close to his wife for his liking.

Quickly excusing himself, Madara frees from the old woman to get closer to where (Y/N) is, without revealing himself to her but close enough for the man to notice. Behind his wife's back, the Uchiha stares at him with eyes full of hatred and menace, causing the warrior to flee in terror without even saying goodbye to her. Confused, (Y/N) turns around to see what spooked the man, caused him to be so horrified, and meets her husband face to face.

Judging by his expression, it looks as if he has just met Tobirama, and the woman is extremely embarrassed when he lifts her over his shoulder, abducting her from the market and concluding her shopping moment.

"Madara what the fuck! Put me down now!" She yells angrily, slamming a fist into his back and trying to lift her head to keep all the blood from going to that area. He doesn't comply with her demand until a few minutes later when they are in the privacy of their home, and away from any prying eyes.

"What got into you?!" (Y/N) exclaims indignantly, trying to understand what could have affected him enough to not even say hello.

"Who the fuck was that man and why were you conversing so cheerfully with him?" He asks with both loathing and resignation, expecting a terrible answer from his wife. Maybe it was her lover, maybe it was the person she would want to replace him with, or maybe she already had.

"He's one of the guards you assigned to take care of me today, you idiot! He was with me all day, under your own orders! Don't you even register what you decree, all day locked up in your office?!"(Y/N) is overcome with indignation, being indirectly accused of unfaithfulness wrongfully.

The Uchiha is speechless, not knowing what to say about it. He deals with so many things per day and at the same time, he tends to forget one or two matters. He feels disgusted for having assigned such a weak warrior as his wife's bodyguard, but even more so for not being able to remember it. The stress was consuming him to such an extent he was beginning to forget important things, skipping some and erasing others altogether.

"Even if that hadn't been the case, seeing me talk to another man doesn't give you the right to freak out like that! Interacting with people of the opposite sex doesn't mean I'll be looking to cheat on you, Madara! Grow the hell up, and learn to respect me as your wife, or it ends here!"

Enraged, (Y/N) storms out of the house, leaving a stunned and shocked Uchiha in the middle of the room. The only thing Madara is thankful for is the fact she didn't take off her ring, which could mean two things: either she didn't notice, or she doesn't see it as serious enough to genuinely leave him. Either way, he feels terribly guilty, and can't understand how he lets himself be driven by jealousy like that.

Unfounded jealousy, even worse.

The Uchiha is left pondering in solitude before he goes off to find her, determined to apologize on his knees if that's what it takes to get (Y/N) not to be angry at him anymore.