#and i pretend to know a lot about metal but i really only know anything about aluminum and copper

[futuresafe]

I dont know. i wish i was as smart as i pretend to be sometimes

[missberrycake]

I’ve been thinking this morning about if Steve didn’t get back together with Nancy at the end of S1—I think there’s a lot of different ways that could go, but what if Steve ended up as one of Eddie’s lost little sheep?

Because even if Steve was popular enough to keep afloat in the choppy waters of high school, after his bust up with Tommy and Carole—and even when he’s seen talking with Nancy and Jonathan Byers of all people—he still doesn’t really have any true friends left. Sure, he has people he can chat to in class, but at lunch? After school? Nobody is really thinking about who ex-jock, ex-bully Steve Harrington is hanging around with. 

Perhaps he spends the rest of his junior year dreading lunch hour, because he knows he’s going to have to deploy some serious charm tactics—taking as long as he can in the queue, chatting to the students either side of him—and perhaps if he lingers long enough at one of the tables of his more social classmates, pretends he’s just catching up, carrying on a conversation from class, he can make it seem like it’s all still as easy as it was before. 

Sometimes, though, he doesn’t have the energy to pretend. On those days he’ll retreat quietly to his car and eat his lunch behind his wheel, wondering how different it might have been if he’d never gone back into the Byers’ house that day last fall.

It’s on one of those days that Eddie sees him. It’s not like Eddie hadn’t noticed him before, he’s always on the lookout, after all, and Steve Harrington is one of those people who always drew his eye. He’d seen him scouring the cafeteria while queueing up for his state-mandated mac ‘n’ cheese, searching for a space where he could fit. 

And, of course, he’d heard the whispers about Steve—that he’d punched Tommy H in the face, gotten his crown beaten from his head by Jonathan Byers (though he didn’t seem to hold a grudge). If there’s one thing to know about Eddie, it’s that he’s a bleeding heart, and so when he sees Steve sitting alone in his car, winter frost glittering against the metal, he lets out a heavy sigh and trundles over. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he says, pushing down a smirk when Steve jumps (he is easily startled these days, isn’t he?).

“Munson,” Steve replies with narrow eyes. He doesn’t trust Eddie yet, not entirely. 

“There’s more space in my van. If you wanted some company.”

Eddie leaves it like that, keeps it casual, knows that he might get it shoved right back in his face—expects it to be, even. And so he’s surprised at how quickly Steve nods back at him, a real smile breaking out on his face, if only for a moment, until Steve clears his throat and says, “Sure, yeah. That’d be cool, I guess.”

It’s the start of something big. A delicate balance where the two of them pretend that it’s not that important, but somehow they’re more honest with each other than they’ve ever been with anyone else. Steve tells Eddie all about how he doesn’t even really know who he is anymore, and in return Eddie shares just how worried he is that he knows exactly who he’s expected to be, and that he can’t change his fate even if he wanted to.

By the time the next school year starts, it’s well established with the school population that Steve Harrington has somehow landed himself with an honorary spot in the Hellfire Club. He doesn’t play—refuses to learn, even if it’s clear that he’d do pretty much anything else that Eddie Munson would ask of him—but he helps set up the meetings, sits with them at lunch, smiles stupidly whenever Eddie gets up onto the cafeteria tables to rant about the shallow-mindedness of his peers. 

And if Eddie’s diatribes are directed at the popular crowd with a little more venom than they used to be, and if he seems to take great pleasure whenever Tommy H, or Carole, or those posers on the basketball team frown and scoff and sneer at him, it’s no great secret to everyone else in the lunch hall exactly why. 

[Yeah, I'm scouring the archives and trying to salvage as many headcanons as I can from my old deleted account, but let's just pretend this is brand new content.]

[munsonhoneybaby]

Dustin Doesn't Know | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader

Summary: As things with Eddie start to go farther and farther, you worry how your relationship would impact Dustin if he found out.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use (marijuana), stoner!reader, smut, fwb-esque, oral (m and f receiving), balls??, fingering, p in v (protected), praise, implied subspace?? idk if that was coming across tho???

A/N: there’s a lot of stuff about reader that i’m super vague on because i’m thinking of explaining it more in the final part or maybe additional drabbles and stuff like that (she is adopted tho). i really hope that this chapter lives up to the hype and praise that the first one got since it’s taken me three months to update lol. as always lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

When you heard the soft groan of your window slowly sliding open, you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across your face. Turning around, you were met with Eddie maneuvering his lean body through the window; it wasn’t quite as awkward as you’d expected, but he certainly wasn’t as silent as he’d hoped to be as his feet thudded on your carpeted floor.

“Not too bad, Munson. You’re definitely lucky being a heavy sleeper runs in the Henderson DNA, though.” As you face him completely, he holds out a baggie of weed and a small box. 

Eyebrows furrowing, you took it to examine it further as he explained. “It’s uh– incense. I noticed you lit some last time, figured it was for the smell.”

“Yeah, makes it a little easier for Mom to pretend she doesn’t know.” Opening the package, you placed one of the sticks in the holder and lit the end. “That’s really sweet, Eddie, thank you.”

“Hope the scent is alright ‘n everything, I didn’t really know what you like.” Shrugging his jacket off, he tossed it over the back of the chair at your desk.

Suppressing a smile, you bent down to the drawer next to him to get out your tray and paper again, “It’s actually one of my favorites.”

“Oh,” He seemed pleasantly surprised, but he kept his head down as he took a seat at your desk. “Good.”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m gonna roll? Why? What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Flicking the back of his head, you replied, “Suit yourself then, smartass. I was gonna do it this time, but never mind.”

“Jeez, touchy,” He huffed playfully as he swatted your hand away. “I don’t mind rolling, I’d be doing it if I were at home right now anyway. Your only job is to sit there and look pretty for me, alright?”

“A little demeaning, but I think I can handle it,” You sighed dramatically. Much like last time, you stretched yourself out on the bed, lying on your stomach as you watched him roll the joint. His fingers handled the paper so delicately, knowing exactly how to roll and pinch it without threatening to rip it. Every now and then one of his rings would drag or clink against the wood of your desk, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as you remembered the way the cool metal had felt against your hot skin.

“So, how’ve you been doing?” He placed the finished joint between his lips and held his lighter to it as he claimed the first long drag of the night. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”

“I really am sorry about that,” You answered bashfully. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear I don’t usually do stuff like that.”

“What? You mean invite in guys you hardly know to make ‘em dinner and let ‘em finger you?” Wearing a massive smirk, he held the joint out to you. You accepted it but huffed embarrassedly and his smirk only grew. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, babe. Christ knows I’m reliving every second, I could recite every gory detail back to you.”

“I don’t know why you’re reliving it. You made me come, got blue balls, and went home.”

“So? Making you come is like seventy-five percent of the fun. Jerking off’ll make up for missing the rest,” He shrugged.

“You really don’t hold anything back, huh?” You croaked around a chestful of smoke.

“Maybe I just don’t feel like I have to with you.” You couldn’t tell if that statement went deeper than this conversation. “Should I?”

“You don’t have to hold anything back with me, Eddie,” You answered honestly. “As long as you behave around my brother.”

He pointed a finger toward you in warning as his lips curled mischievously, “I’ll remember you said that.”

Rolling your eyes, you take a couple extra hits from the joint before passing it back. He watched as you laid back on the bed, closing your eyes and slowly exhaling, the smoke billowing upwards. Eyes wandering down your body, he took in the way your shirt had rolled up to show the flesh of your tummy, how the band of your thong peeked out of your pajama pants– a different pair than last time– and accentuated the dip of your waist. He wondered how many people had gotten to see you like this; he wondered if they really appreciated it. 

“You’re about to get ash on my carpet and I’m gonna have to kick your ass,” You spoke abruptly, breaking him from his reverie.

“I’m shaking, babe,” He monotoned as he ashed it in the tray.

“You should be.”

“What’s with you, hm?” He stood and placed the joint between his lips, lifting his arms to stretch his back and shoulders. His voice was teasing as he stepped toward your bed, toward you.“Bein’ so mean to me today. You know, you were a lot nicer the last time we smoked together.”

Scooting over to make room for him on the bed, your eyes caught on the faint trail of hair leading into his jeans before lifting to meet his. Reaching out to take the joint back, you said, “‘M not being mean. Just keeping you in line, Munson.”

Crawling into the bed beside you, he settled on his side, head resting in his hand. “Probably a good idea.” Hoping his fingers weren’t twitching with nerves, he slowly grazed them over the soft skin of your stomach. “You know I’m always gettin’ into trouble.”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you,” You posited, taking yet another long drag.

“A close one,” He hummed in agreement. His touch moved up your stomach, raising goosebumps in its wake as your head slumped against his shoulder. “This okay?”

Though you were leaning into his touch, you asked, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Eddie’s hand froze and he leaned back slightly to try to look at you. “What? What do you mean? Do you think it is?”

You didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. You’re just so important to Dustin and I don’t want to change the way he sees you. I would never want something between us to affect your relationship with him.”

“In the nicest way possible, babe–” He brushed your hair back from your face, finally locking eyes with you. “You worry too much. We’re both adults, alright? Even if something were to happen, I wouldn’t let Dustin get caught in that. We’d work around it, y’know? I think we could be mature about it. If things went bad, that is– and I mean, I don’t really think they would–”

You stretched your neck to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Careful of the now-unlit joint still in your hand, you squeezed his side. “You’re probably right, Eds.” Your lips trailed to his jaw, lined with a light smile. “I won’t worry about it anymore tonight, I didn’t mean to get you worked up.”

His cheeks flushed and he mumbled only half-jokingly, “‘M not worked up. Just don’t want you runnin’ out on me just yet, you’re actually kinda cool.”

Your eyes softened and your hand slid from his side to his chest, “I won’t go anywhere, Eddie. You don’t have to worry about that. Now,” Pressing against his chest, you urged him onto his back so you could straddle his thighs. He bit down on his lower lip, looking up at you with eager eyes. Slipping your hand into his jeans pocket for his lighter, you continued, “Enough with the heavy. We still have half a joint to finish and I seem to remember getting interrupted in the middle of something important the last time you were here.”

“You know, you really don’t have to feel obligated,” He reminded you. Still, his hands immediately wandered from your thighs, up your sides, and back.

“Who said I felt obligated, hm?” The pads of your fingers brushed his lips as you placed the lit joint between them. “Maybe I’ve just really been looking forward to making you come.”

A cloud of smoke rolled from his mouth as he groaned, clutching your hips to draw you further toward him. “Fuck, keep talking like that and it’s gonna happen way too soon, sweet thing. Been thinkin’ about it, huh?”

“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since you left,” You answered. “About what you’d do when you got home.”

“Yeah?” His hand crept beneath your shirt, running up your spine before guiding you closer. “That’s cute, baby. Thought about me stroking my cock and thinkin’ how much better that pretty pussy would feel instead? You didn’t touch yourself after I left, did you?”

Hips already grinding down against his, you lightly pinched his side. “None of your business.”

“Wait, seriously? I was just fucking around, did you actually make yourself come thinking about me beating off?”

Your head fell back and you let out a laugh that was way too loud for the time of the night. “Eddie, what the fuck?”

He said your name, tone far more serious than his statement required. “You have no idea how fucking hot that is. You’re actually about to make me bust in my pants.”

“Well don’t, alright? We were just getting to the good part when somebody got sidetracked,” You teased. Leaning down, you let your lips graze his and smiled. “Let me make you feel as good as you made me feel, yeah?” After pressing a quick peck to his lips, you sat up. “Take off your shirt.”

“Bossy,” He muttered with false exasperation. As he yanked his shirt over his head and whipped it across the room, he felt your hands drift to the button of his jeans. He tilted his chin to kiss you deeper than before. 

“Of course, you have more tattoos,” You huffed.

He might have asked if that was a problem if he hadn’t picked up on the subtle whine behind your voice. “Mmm, should’a known you’d dig the tatties. I’ll give you a tour later, huh, sweetheart? Wouldn’t wanna get sidetracked again, would we?”

“You’re a jackass, y’know that?”

“I think I’ve been told once or twice, yeah.” Hand framing your jaw, his rings pressed into one side of your neck as his left slow, open-mouthed kisses along the other. “Pretty baby,” He hummed lowly against your ear. “Bein’ so good to me.”

“You still haven’t let me show you how good I can be,” You replied breathily. 

“I just keep on distractin’ you, huh?” He pressed a couple playful kisses to your lips before asking, “Want me to let you get back to work?” Before he’d even finished his sentence, you were unzipping his jeans and scooting backward to tug them past his hips.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be big,” You whined as you eyed the outline of his length within the confines of his boxers.

“I’ll try not to let that go to my head,” He jested with a smirk. 

“I’m sure it will anyway. That’s okay though, your confidence isn’t misplaced, Eds.” When you finally pulled his boxers down, you practically had to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan at the sight. His cock twitched against his lower abdomen, precome almost dripping into the hair there. “Eddie, shit. Gonna taste so good.”

The way his length jumped at the sound of your voice almost had you drooling. He held your hair back from your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as your hand wrapped around his base. “So fuckin’ dirty, gettin’ all desperate to suck my cock. Go on, baby, I won’t keep you waiting anymore.”

“I think I’m the one who’s s’posed to be saying that,” You hummed. Leaning forward, you let spit drip from your lip to the head, slowly stroking him. 

“Don’t sweat it, you’re worth holding out for.” His words already held a faint pant. As your tongue traced his length he tightened his grip on your hair. When your lips finally wrapped around him, his mouth fell open, a shaky breath escaping him as he hits the back of your throat. “Shit, definitely worth it.” Eyes glazed, he watched how your cheeks hollowed around him, how your lashes fluttered as you kept your eyes down. “Look at me, sweet thing. Gimme those eyes.” Nervously doing as he asked, your gaze locked with his and he stifled a groan. “Too fuckin’ pretty.” 

His hand still sweetly held your hair back from your face as you let his cock slip from your spit-soaked lips, mouthing sloppy kisses along it until you reached his balls. Your tongue laved across one and his eyes rolled back, head falling against your pillows. “What the fuck,” He groaned incredulously. “You’re fucking unreal. I have to be dreaming right now.”

“Vivid dreamer,” You quipped lowly.

Smirk never leaving his face, he tugged lightly at your hair, drawing a small gasp from you. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had this dream, sweetheart. Definitely never felt this good before, though.”

“Glad I’m living up to your expectations, Munson.” Taking him back into your mouth, the musky taste of his precome coated your tongue. The moan he fought to hold back became a whimper as you lapped up every drop. Resisting the urge to gag, you bobbed your head further until your nose brushed the dark curls around his base. Your nails dragged lightly over the ink winding around his hipbone, making them jerk in response. 

“You have no idea,” A whine was beginning to leak into his tone. “‘M already close, baby. You’re s’fucking good. Such a good girl for me.” Hand cradling the back of your head, his hips rutted carefully to meet your movements. Nails digging into his hips encouragingly, you tried to keep your eyes on him as the rise and fall of his chest grew more rapid. “Fuck, you’re g’nna make me come.” You moaned eagerly, vibrations making his thighs tense. 

Not wanting to pull your hair too hard, Eddie clutched your bedding instead. His other hand formed a fist which he bit down on, huffing out ragged breaths around it in an attempt to keep quiet. You could feel his cock twitch as his come filled your mouth and a tremor ran through his body as he watched you swallow all of it.

He was still panting as you crawled to his level, planting a far-too-sweet kiss on his lips and smiling. Shaking his head, he breathed, “Too fuckin’ good.”

“Happy to return the favor.”

“Fuck favors.” His hand found a home in your hair again as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. His free hand lifted your shirt until you leaned back so he could tug it over your head. “I just want you. Are you alright with that?” You just looked into his eyes for a moment– silently communicating something that you weren’t sure either of you fully understood– before your lips met his again, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. Calloused fingertips brushed down the sensitive skin of your neck and over your chest to your nipples. You shivered, goosebumps pebbling your skin as he teased them with the pads of his thumbs. Your mouth fell open against his and his teeth nipped your lower lip. Trailing a few kisses along your jaw, he murmured, “Pretty baby.”

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the hallway followed by the bathroom door creaking made you both freeze. You glanced at your bedroom doorknob to ensure it was locked before you and Eddie both eyed the alarm clock on your nightstand. It was almost a quarter past three in the morning and Dustin would be getting up for school in less than four hours.

“That’s my cue, isn’t it?” He pouted.

“I think so,” You sighed. Lifting your hips, you allowed him to fix his boxers and jeans before he handed you your shirt. “We can hang out again soon though, okay?”

“Yeah,” He snorted, crawling out of your bed to search the other side of the room for his own shirt. “‘Hang out’. ‘Cause I do this with all my friends, y’know?”

“I’m sorry, do you want me to say you can sneak in my window for head again?”

Laughing, he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his shoes back on before walking back over to you. His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes from where he stood between your legs. “Maybe I wanna give you head next time, hm? How ‘bout that?”

Body heating embarrassedly, you tried to look anywhere but his eyes. “I’ll consider it.”

“Mmm, good.” He pressed a long, slow kiss to your lips before hesitantly pulling back. “I’ve got a lot to think about until the next time I see you.”

“I’ll call you, okay?” 

Grinning, he swiped his thumb over your cheek one last time before he headed for your window. “I’ll be waiting, Henderson.” He ducked back out the window and you peeked your head out after him. Throwing you a quick wink, he started to cut across the yard where he must have parked a few doors down, lighting a cigarette on his way. This was far from the last time Eddie Munson would make an escape from your window.

Letting out another sigh, you kicked off your pajama pants and climbed back into bed. After spending nearly an hour tossing and turning, your hand found its way between your legs, seeking relief so you could finally fall asleep.

Nearly four weeks later, you were watching TV in the living room when the boys came in after school. Dustin threw himself down on the couch with a loud groan while Lucas and Mike both sat down with much less dramatic frustration. “I just don’t understand why they can’t rehearse somewhere else, Hellfire uses the same room every week and they’ve already kicked us out once!”

“Well, it is the drama room and they are rehearsing for the school musical,” You reminded him, going to the kitchen. He grumbled something unintelligible in response as you poured glasses of water for all three boys. “You guys could always have Hellfire here again. Gives Mom a reason to get out of the house and I don’t mind having you guys as long as you don’t totally trash the basement.”

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, cautiously. “...Will you make snacks ‘n stuff?”

Rolling your eyes, you ruffled his hair which made him swat at your hand as you answered. “I suppose I could do something like that. I’m not making anything extravagant though. Let me know if there are any allergies I should know about.”

“Should someone call and ask Eddie?” Lucas piped up. “You know how he can get. He probably won’t like not having his throne again.”

“Eddie would probably have Hellfire here every week if he could,” Mike scoffed. After a none-too-subtle look from Lucas though, he glanced at Dustin, then you, and seemed to think better of it. “‘Cause of the uh- snacks, y’know.”

“Right, anyways–” Lucas took over, inconspicuously trying to guide the conversation back on track. “Someone should probably call him and let him know so he can tell the rest of the guys.”

Over the course of the past month, Eddie had snuck in a grand total of three times, and between these secret smoke sessions you managed to squeeze in conversation at the weekly Hellfire meetings. You called him every now and then when no one else was home, but that was it. While you suspected he’d told Jeff and Gareth, you definitely didn’t believe he would say anything to Lucas or Mike. Whatever suspicions they had, you just hoped they wouldn’t share them with Dustin.

You raised an eyebrow at the two of them questioningly and, in almost perfect sync, they stood and said, “I’ll do it!” You still had no idea how they got away with lying to their parents so often.

You suppressed a smile as you heard Iron Maiden’s “Phantom of the Opera” slowly growing louder until Eddie’s van creaked to a halt in your driveway the next week. The music cut out, replaced by voices and doors slamming. He didn’t even knock before he walked in, Jeff and Gareth in tow. Wearing a wide grin, his dimples were on full display as he leaned across the counter separating the front room from the kitchen. “Heard all this was your idea. You obsessed with me or somethin’, Henderson?”

“Excuse me for trying to be a good big sister, I’ll let them kick you to the basement with newspaper and AV club next week.”

He opened his mouth to respond but got distracted when he caught sight of just how much food you made. It looked like you were hosting a potluck; there were three different crockpots plugged in, at least four covered pots on the stovetop, and countless bowls and foil-covered plates scattered across the countertops. “Woah.”

“Did you make all this?” Jeff asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I hope you didn’t eat anything before you came. I may have gone a little overboard.” 

The three of them grabbed paper plates and Gareth chimed, “How long were you cooking?”

“I don’t know uh– since around ten this morning? It’s really not a big deal. Dustin was at school all day and Mom was at work and I had the day off anyway, figured I had nothing better to do.” You shrugged, turning to get a few glasses out of the cabinet for them. “You can drink whatever outta the fridge. The boys are already downstairs digging in, of course.”

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do so much. We would’ve been thrilled for a couple bags of chips and a two-liter.”

“Yeah, seriously. Thank you,” Jeff added, he and Gareth piling their plates high.

“It’s my pleasure, guys. Really.”

Eddie’s plate was still empty in his hand, waiting up for them to head to the basement so he could get a moment alone with you. The other two noticed, exchanging a knowing glance before making their way toward the basement door. “We’ll go ahead and start setting up.”

“Thanks, I’ll be down in a sec,” Eddie nodded. When the door closed behind them, he set his plate back down on the counter. “They’re right, you really didn’t have to do all this, sweetheart.”

“Gave me something to do with my day,” You insisted. “You’d better eat some or you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna eat. You’ll be lucky if there are leftovers.” He spared a glance at the basement door before his hands found the counter on either side of you, trapping you between his arms. “Maybe tonight I can come back for dessert?”

“I already made cookies and peach cream puffs–”

He interrupted you with a laugh, “C’mon, now you’re practically setting me up for it.” You shoved at his shoulder, fighting back another smile, and he leaned closer anyway. “How about I just come back to thank you for all your hard work then?”

Tilting your chin up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and replied, “How about you make your plate and eat your food first and I’ll think about it?”

“I’m already on it. I’ll get seconds, too. I’ll get fuckin’ thirds, babe, you’ll see. The way to my heart is through my stomach.”

“Save the theatrics for the game downstairs, hm? They’re waiting on you.”

“You in a hurry to get rid of me or something?” He asked, maybe two-thirds playfully. 

“You’re here for Dustin is all,” You shrugged, toying with a loose thread on his Hellfire tee. “He’s expecting you down there and you know how he is, he won’t have any problem asking me questions about what takes us so long when we see each other.”

His thumb rubbed careful circles against your upper arm. “I really think you’re reading too much into it. You’re his big sister looking out for him and I’m the head of his school club, we’ve got plenty of stuff to talk about. Dustin’s not gonna notice  if we make conversation for a few minutes whenever we see each other.” His tone grew more joking as he added, “Besides, I seem to remember being owed a certain phone call that I’ve yet to receive.”

“It’s been a week. I can’t sneak you in every night, alright?”

“You would if you could though, right?” He smirked.

Shoving him away, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, Eddie the Banished is now officially banished from my kitchen. Get your food and go downstairs.”

His eyes narrow at you as he started making his plate. Between crunches, he spoke around a mouthful of chips. “You’re a bully, you know that?” 

Grabbing a roll of paper towels, you tucked it under his arm for him to take down to the rest of the boys. “Just make sure you all clean up after yourselves and maybe I’ll let you come back over after Dustin goes to Mike’s.”

“You drive a hard bargain, babe.” He stole a quick kiss before making his way toward the basement door. “But you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll try and keep the noise down.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

When he left about two and a half hours later, he only drove two blocks away, circling around long enough for the younger boys to have ridden their bikes away from the Henderson house. “I could get used to usin’ the front door,” He chimed as he strolled back in. “Think I pulled a muscle squeezing through your window last time.”

Having changed into an old Judas Priest tee and pajama shorts, you were sealing the last few containers of leftovers and putting them in the fridge. “Uh oh, should I start looking for a new dealer?”

“See, that? Mean. So mean.”

“How about I let you go ahead to my room and light the joint sitting on my nightstand? Would I be less mean then?”

He frowned, taking a step in your direction instead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you clean up?”

“I’m already almost done, it’ll just be a minute. Promise.”

“If you say so,” He drawled as he headed down the hall to your room. The door creaked as it closed halfway behind him and he looked around your room yet again. He liked being in here, being surrounded by you. He hoped you wouldn’t find it rude that he opened the drawer he’d seen you keep your incense in, lighting a stick and placing it in the holder. The radio was already turned down low when he turned it on, a cassette of Black Sabbath still inside. Then he cracked open the window, taking off his shoes and jacket afterward. 

Holding the joint between his lips, he lit it and tossed the lighter on the bed before continuing to look around. A few necklaces were hooked over the corner of the mirror that hung on your wall. Mascara, rings, and a couple pairs of earrings were left out on your vanity. On your dresser, there was a framed picture of you and Dustin in the Hawkins middle school, your arm around his shoulders as he flaunted a science fair ribbon enthusiastically to the camera. Bottles of lotion and perfume sat beside it and he was obviously lacking a healthy level of self-restraint as he picked one up and popped the cap off to smell it.

He nearly jumped three feet in the air when you spoke up from behind him. “Did you wanna take a pair of panties too or…?”

“Well, if the offer’s on the table–” Still, he had on a sheepish expression as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry, that was probably totally weird of me–”

“Maybe it’s weird of me that I don’t mind,” You shrugged as you took the joint from him and sat cross-legged on your bed. “Thanks for getting everything ready in here. Obviously, I don’t need to tell you to make yourself at home.” 

He sat down backward on the chair at your vanity, facing you though his head was tilted toward the floor. “I swear I wasn’t like– actually snooping through anything. I just looked around the room.”

“Eddie, you don’t have to defend yourself. You were smelling perfume that was sitting out, it’s not like you were rifling through drawers. I told you you could be in here by yourself, I wouldn’t have left anything out I wanted kept private. Besides, I trust you.” Leaning forward, you passed him the joint. “And you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

“You really aren’t upset at all?” He looked up at you through his lashes.

“Would you just get in the bed? The house is gonna be empty til at least 11:30 and we’ve still got half a joint. I was thinking of possibly smoking a bowl too.”

Suppressing a smile, he settled into the bed beside you. “So, does that mean I still get the panties?”

You replied by jabbing him in the side with your sock-covered foot, but his fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling your leg across his lap. He traced patterns along the bare skin of your legs as he watched you smoke, occasionally squeezing at your calf or thigh. Feeling a little jittery as the quiet held out, he murmured, “I like your shirt.”

“Thank you, Eds,” You hummed back.

Your little amused smile made his cheeks flush faintly. “Welcome.”

He was flooded with a wave of déjà vu as you crawled into his lap, cupping his jaw to exhale smoke into his mouth. “This feels awful familiar.”

“Well, we’ve got more time than usual.” One hand wandered the expanse of his chest through his shirt as the other placed the dwindling joint between his lips. “I was thinking maybe we could finally finish what we keep starting.”

“You sure we aren’t gonna get interrupted this time?” He asked jokingly.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” You reassured him with a small smile.

“Good.” He drew you closer, “‘Cause I’m thinkin’ we don’t need to go so fast tonight.” Your eyes fluttered closed at the first touch of his lips to your skin, the kisses he left growing sloppier as they moved farther down your neck. A small chill shook his shoulders as your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, caringly gathering his hair into a fluffy bundle and loosely tying it back. So fuckin’ precious. “Thank you, sweetheart. You always think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try.”

Hand cupping the back of your head, his lips molded to yours in a long, slow kiss. As he did, he urged you onto your back, fingers grazing your lips as he settled the joint between them. “That’s enough of that. You don’t have to think anymore tonight. I just wanna take you apart, okay? Make you feel good.” His fingers slipped beneath both your shorts and underwear, gently tugging them past your hips. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks.” The way he pushed your legs back toward your chest had you spread wide for him, your arms rising to cover your face bashfully. Warm hands eased back and forth along the backs of your thighs as he pressed kisses to the delicate skin at the creases of them. “Fuck, you even smell good.”

Eddie actually moaned when he finally tasted you. His tongue soothed over your clit before delving inside you, hands grasping at any part of you he could touch. Meanwhile, your hands were weaving into his hair, further dishevelling his already-messy bun. “Eds,” You breathed.

He briefly pulled back just enough to pant, “Can you take your shirt off? Please? Wanna see you.”

The second you lifted it over your head he was groping at the newly exposed skin, back to burying his face between your thighs. Looking up at you with those big, brown eyes, he zeroed in on your clit. You gasped, “Oh my god, right there.” When he eased his middle finger inside you, curling it to prod at a sensitive spot, you were unable to stifle a squeal.

“I’m just hittin’ all the sweet spots, huh? Pussy was made for me, baby.” Your hand found his free one on the bed, fingers lacing with his as the other remained in his hair. “That’s right, I’ve got you.” A second finger joined the first inside you, spreading you open. Devoting his effort to making you come, his mouth only ever broke away from you to coo the most knee-weakeningly dirty words. Things like, “Want you to come all over my fingers ‘n’ then I’ll stretch you out with my cock, okay? Know you’ve been waitin’ for it.”

“‘M almost there, Eddie, please. Need more.” Distress colored your tone, muscles tensing and un-tensing sporadically. His hand released yours, choosing to drag the pad of his thumb over your nipple instead. The careful pinch he gave afterward made your toes curl.

Feeling your walls squeeze around him, he fractionally sped up the movements of his hand, tongue still tormenting your clit. Quiet gasping moans overpowered the sound of the music as you clutched at the t-shirt covering his shoulders. “That’s my girl, let it out. I’m right here.” He waited until you’d relaxed to gently draw his fingers from you– arms covering your eyes and forehead as you caught your breath, you didn’t see him lick them clean. His palms were warm and slightly rough as they moved over your stomach and sides, “Still with me, sweet thing?”

“Yeah, yeah ‘m here,” You sighed airily. “Just waiting for the stars in my vision to go away.”

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, babe.” His lips made a path up back up your stomach, sloppy kisses and gentle bites ravishing your skin. Instead, you urged him to kiss you before finding the hem of his Hellfire t-shirt to yank it off. Your nails scraped gently over the tattoos on his chest and he shivered, clutching your hips to his. The icy cold metal of his handcuff belt buckle met the heat between your legs, making you gasp into his mouth. You reached down, fumbling to undo the handcuff design. “Easy, baby, lemme do it.”

Standing from the bed, he took his time working his belt and jeans open, eyes slowly raking over you. His lips curved into a subtle smile making your stomach flip. The way Eddie looked at you sometimes was almost overwhelming. You could see the tip of his tongue poke out from the corner of his mouth as he pushed his pants and boxers down, immediately climbing back over you. “Condoms in the nightstand,” You mumbled against the demon head inked on his pec. 

He reached over to open the drawer, chuckling at the pre-packed bowl in the corner and grabbing a condom. You surprised him by taking it from him, tearing it open, and pulling him down for another long, slow kiss as you rolled it on for him. Humming as you slowly pulled apart again, he said, “You’re kinda fuckin’ adorable, you know that?”

“Don’t be a dick,” You pouted against his lips.

“You always think I’m teasin’ you and I’m not.” His nose brushed your cheek as he murmured, “Just think you’re the sweetest little thing. Let me appreciate you.”

You tucked your head into the crook of his neck a little bashfully. “Wanna feel you, Eds.”

“I’ve got you, honey, don’t worry.” The first few inches already had you clenching around him as he pressed in. His fingers laced into your hair, gently tugging your head back enough for him to watch your face. “There she is. Doin’ okay, pretty girl?”

“Feels so good,” You breathed out. Your voice sounded strained like your throat was tight. “S’big, Eddie.”

“I know, but you’re takin’ me so good. Doin’ such a good job, baby.” He brushed your hair away from your face as he gazed down at you, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Tell me if you wanna stop.”

Your nose brushed his when you shook your head no, nails digging into his shoulder blades. Eddie gripped your thigh, hitching it over his hip. Eyes closing, you didn’t see the way he watched you as he pulled out nearly completely before pushing back in. He admired how your eyebrows furrowed a little, your lips parting with a reserved moan. You still weren’t letting go.

He was gonna change that.

Forgoing the slow pace he’d been giving you to adjust, sudden quick thrusts of his hips had your eyes opening. You blinked up at him with glassy eyes. Thighs squeezing at his sides, you clung to him. Still supporting himself on one arm, the other snuck between your bodies to find your clit. The broken moan you let out made him smile. “S’that what you needed to make some noise for me? Love hearing you, sweetheart.” He hissed as your nails dragged down his back, but that smile never left his face.

Heat licked up your legs starting from the soles of your feet, your stomach tightening as a second orgasm crept up on you. He could tell when you came again, feeling your walls spasm around him while pitchy whines you couldn’t suppress escaped your throat. “Shit,” He panted out. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. C’n I keep going?”

Nodding, you crossed your ankles behind his back, legs wrapping more comfortably around him and caging him in closer. “Wan’ you to come, Eddie.”

“Jesus, babe, won’t take long if you keep doin’ shit like that.” He kissed you, but your lips fell open against his as his cock ground deeper into you. “God, this pussy’s fucking perfect, baby.” His grunts became pronounced groans as your hands tangled in his hair, hair tie barely hanging on. He gripped your thigh so tight you knew you’d look for fingerprints the next morning. You tugged his lower lip between your teeth and his hips jerked, burying himself as deep inside you as he could when he came.

Neither of you loosened your hold on the other for another minute or two– you just tucked your head into the crook of his neck and let your palms explore the expanse of his back while you both caught your breath. His weight was warm and grounding on top of you, calloused fingertips grazing back and forth along your side.

When you let your head fall back against the pillow you were met with Eddie’s big, warm eyes and soft smile. It was a little flustering, you could only meet his eyes through your lashes. “What?”

But he didn’t answer. He just cradled your face in his hand and delicately molded his lips to yours. It was only after that that he finally pulled out, making your legs twitch around his waist before letting him up. He tied off the condom and threw it away and as he pulled on his boxers, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom? I’ll get some water and get the bowl ready.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” You hummed quietly in response.

“Don’t need to thank me, sweet girl.” He handed you your shirt, watching you pull it on and head for the bathroom before he went to the kitchen.

Finding him back in your bed, bowl and lighter in hand, you didn’t hesitate to crawl in with him. Your back against his chest, he offered it to you and lit it as you took a hit. His arm settled around your waist and your fingers loosely wrapped around it. He took a decent hit for himself and finally spoke again as he breathed out the smoke. “Is everything alright? You’ve been kinda quiet– I can go if you want.”

Your hold on his arm tightened slightly. “No, not at all. Sorry, I’m just kinda…” Searching for the words, your thumb tapped impatiently on his skin and you nuzzled yourself further back into him.

“That’s okay,” He reassured. “I think I get it. Take your time, baby, whatever you need.” You hit the bowl again, letting him hold it for you this time and resting your head against his chest afterward. Eddie looked down at you, your eyes closed as you sighed out smoke, and he was taken aback again by how open you were being with him– how much you were trusting him with. Warmth filled his chest at the realization that you were letting him take care of you.

Over the next few minutes, your head seemed to clear a bit. Taking a drink of water, your eyes finally met Eddie’s again, giving each other a small smile.

“So, I’ve got a proposal for you,” He began.

“I’m listening.”

He passed the bowl back to you, gaze following your movements as he spoke. “I wanna spend time with you. Not just sneaking in to fuck around or stealing a few minutes when we see each other at Hellfire, I mean really spend time with you. Let me take you out to dinner or– or come watch a movie at my place or something.” His nerves rose as he kept talking, seeing your eyelids sink lower as you inhaled a lungful of smoke.

He fidgeted with the chain around his wrist until you breathed out a response. “Okay. It’s a date.”

 His face split in a grin, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trinuh @cantreadbutcute

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(so tumblr doesn’t eat the end of my fic again)

[a-spes]

T H E D O G ' S F A L L - One shot.

Words count - 5,2k.

Tags & Warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, angst, harm/comfort, manipulation, mentions of blood/past abuses, human trafficking.

Summary - Anyone that can beat her in a fight will earn her, and Natasha intends to be the one, working hard to get what she thinks is hers. A dog can't fight for eternity, can it?

Moodboard here.

N/A - It's the longest os I've wrote so far, took me a lot of time but it's enventually here so I really hope you'll enjoy it! If it's the case, don't hesitate to let me know by interacting with the post :)

It is at the back of that popular night club that everything is happening, where no one can see your distress except the one that enjoys it, where everyone is too busy having fun to pay attention to the veritable purpose of this building. On a dark corner that light never reaches, a man is guarding the most important secret of that place, and very few are the people he lets through; only rich and influential men and women get their ticket for this special spectacle that takes place here every night.

Down there, the loud music is replaced by the shouts of excited men that makes her sigh; why do they have to scream like animals? If she gets a few glances, no one dares to say anything as the infamous Black Widow is walking through the crowd to get to her place. She has blood on her back, people are whispering, some from admiration, others from fear, but no one stays indifferent - how could they? One of the most important mafia bosses of the city, but also one of the most discreet, is here. She has her reputation and, even if she is rarely seen, she is well-known, so none of the men dares to protest when she decides to take place in their lodge, chasing them out of the room. 

From here, she has a perfect view of the cage and, most importantly, of the Dog.

It is obvious that there is no way out of the ring, that you are trapped in that cage until one of these men’s victory - or your last breath - but, somehow, you still believe that defeating them will lead you out of that basement. So, not caring about how many of them are daring to step in your cage, you beat them, one by one. You watch the man you just defeated being escorted out of the cage so the next one could take his place - it gives you a few seconds to catch your breath. 

The world is spinning, you can’t even see the faces of your opponents, but you don’t give up. Even if the only thing you want is to curl up in the corner, crying for your mom, you can’t. You can’t because it will mean giving them your life. No, you need to be stronger than them, to pretend that you don’t feel the pain inflicted by their blows, to pretend that you are not bothered by the metallic taste of the blood in your mouth, they need to believe you could do that all night. But you are not foolish and you know damn well that you won’t last long. 

It is hard to focus on anything, even on breathing, because you are overwhelmed by a crew you can't even see, blinded by the lights; you are the spectacle. They all came to see the Dog fighting, hoping to witness its fall. They are shouting, mostly insults in Russian, whistling and clapping everytime something exciting is happening during a fight, but it won’t be enough to save you from that place. 

Oh, at first, they were cheering for you, but it slowly changed, people getting tired of seeing your pretty face every night. They thought you would be easy to break and hated to be proven wrong, and you perfectly know that the stakes have changed. It is no longer about giving them what they want, entertainment, it is purely about surviving and you noticed how the attitude of your opponents changed over the weeks, becoming more aggressive.

You were a champion, now you are just a little bitch they need to get rid of. 

The organization that threw you in that rat hole understood that as much as you did and, tonight, they changed the rules. Tonight, it'll be only you against the world, until they are tired of it. No break, no help, everytime one leaves, the next one is already stepping in the ring, as an endless torture. 

Tonight, she will be one of them. She has been looking at you hungrily since the first time she came here, and she knows that you will be hers by the end of the night, after all she came just for that, to take you home.

Even if she is here every night, you never had a chance to notice the woman. She was always sitting in the last row, observing you from her balcony, where she is hidden by the shadow, but she noticed you for sure. The time she came, it was only because of one of her associates that wanted to meet here specifically, she never left since. From the moment her eyes landed on you, she was unable to think about anything else, the way you were looking so innocent but so feroce at the same time got her heart. 

She sent a few of her best men, knowing they would lose, as a test, waiting for the moment it would be her turn to enter the cage. She never expected them to win and she would have killed them if they had the audacity to: she is the one that is supposed to defeat you, the only one that has the right to own you. The urge to possess you only grew stronger over the weeks, being deeper every time she came here, she wants to see you as you are breaking under her effect, to control every aspect of your life. 

So she patiently waited for the right time to come, she always liked a bit of challenge anyway, having a soft spot for things that are hard to get. She worked hard to get you, spending weeks observing every of your movements: she learned how you are fighting and your habits, she learned to read your body and face as if she was on your mind, and that’s the difference with the others: if you are a game for them, for her, you are a goal she must reach at all costs. 

As soon as your eyes laid on her, you knew she wouldn’t back up, somehing in the way she stepped in the cage already made all the difference. It is her confidence. It is the smirk on her face, a cocky one. It is the way her hands are stuck in her pockets while she is observing you. It is the slight sigh as she gets rid of her leather jacket. It is all these details that give the impression that she is just here to settle a formality, already certain of her victory.

Even the way she is moving has something unrealist. Every step, every look, is calculated and almost imperceptible. Usually, you would step forward, ready to fight even before they entered the cage to show them you are not afraid, but this time? You can’t help but instinctively step back when she enters. The movement was slight, as you were already leaning the grid but she noticed it, the way her aura is pressuring you, and she loves it.

As soon as the door was closed, your fate was sealed.

It all happened really fast because she knew exactly what to do, she prepared for that moment. You quickly realized that you were right: the woman had nothing in common with the men you were fighting against earlier, you never stood a chance to win that fight. The realization is more painful than the blows she is currently throwing at you. Every punch you try to land, she knows exactly how to dodge it. As if she was on your mind, she knows exactly where to hit to get you weak, stealing your breath and your strenght, having you on your knees then laying on the floor in less than a few minutes. 

At first, you tried to get up, to fight, but she is faster than you are, and wiser, and stronger, and more trained. She is being pretty much better in everything. Soon your vision is so blurry that you can’t see anything, you are feeling so weak that even moving your fingers or keeping your eyes open is just too much. 

"Stay still,” she quietly ordered when she noticed you were struggling against her grip - she had you pinned down on the ground by pressing her foot on your back and grabbed your hair to lift a bit your head. "You're going to be mine no matter what, so don't make things harder for yourself, honey." 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

You hear the countdown but, this time, it is not your victory that is announced, it is hers. As soon as her name is shouted by the crew, her grip releases your hair but you simply don't have the strength to move, the news leaves a void in your chest. The pain, but mostly this feeling of emptiness, is keeping you frozen in place. She owns you, and this simple idea is sending shivers through your whole body. You don't realize yet what is happening, thinking that, maybe, it is just a cruel joke on you, and it explains the lack of reaction when she asks you to get up; she needs to grab your arm and lift to get you on your feet. 

You stumble, fighting the urge to vomit. Your brain can barely process what is happening, especially when you realize that your feet are not touching the ground anymore. In her arms, you are nothing more than a rag doll, silent and motionless, barely having the energy to keep your eyes open. 

"She is not for sale,” she coldly said, her voice bringing you back to reality. As she was on her way to get out of the night club, some men were offering the woman outrageous amounts of money in the hope of getting you, they all backed up once she coldly glanced at them. "No one will ever take you away from me, do you hear that, love? You are safe as long as you’re with me," she then whispered in your ears. 

You drift into unconsciousness as soon as the car starts, despite the woman that kept begging you to keep your eyes open, the way she was cadling you not helping. You just had enough time to notice the men sitting at the front of the black van, both armed and intimidating, before falling into darkness. 

You opened your eyes again when the car stopped in an alley. It is late, the sun gave its throne to the moon a long time ago and, even if you can't tell what time it is, you know it is the middle of the night. How many hours did you spend down there, fighting for your life? The question makes you sick because the only answer is too many. All these hours for nothing because, no matter how hard you triee, you loose. You were never supposed to win their twisted game, you never got a chance and you slowly realize that the promised freedom was just a lure. For weeks you believed them, you played along their rules, thinking it was the only way to get your life back.

And here you are, in the arms of your new owner, a woman you know nothing about but that now has every rights on you, even if you will live depends exclusively on the redhead's choices. The fear twists your stomach, the humiliation clenches your throat and the exhaustion makes your eyes burning, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you repeat in your head, but you don't know for how long you will be able to keep your tears for yourself.  

The woman is not looking at you at all, she is concentrating on not falling as she is walking to the house, barely seeing where her feet are landing. You, however, can't help but observe every detail of her face, noticing how serious her expression is. You are trying to guess how your life is going to be by her side, but you can't, she is a complete mystery and you hate that.

A part of you wants to go back in that basement. It may have been a living hell, but you had your habits, you knew how to survive, now you will have to learn everything again. 

You notice that two armed persons are guarding the front door and, when you pass by them, they exchange a few words in Russian. You can't understand a word of what they are saying, but you guess they are greeting the woman, beside some insults, you don't know a lot and only because that's how they used to call you.

The inside of the penthouse is exactly as you imagined it: expensive, tidy and minimalist. You never felt comfortable in that kind of environment, it always reminded you that you will never have a place in that sphere, you are nothing more than their animal, a dog that does everything they want. 

Once inside, you almost expected her to drop you on the floor but she didn't. Her grip is strong, as if she doesn't want to let you go, that's because she is scared too. She exchanged a few words in Russian with a woman before heading upstairs. 

Your eyes closed because of the light, you don't see much more of the house, nor of where you are going. You can feel that she climbs the stairs, takes a few turns and walks through a door before she eventually lets you go. It is with care that she sits you on the floor of the bathroom. 

"Here we are," she whispered, "you can open your eyes, love," she added when she noticed they were still closed. If you can't see her smile, you can feel her hand brushing your cheek. 

For weeks you didn't see anything else than pitch darkness and the dimmed light of the basement where you were fighting, it is great to eventually be able to see something else. She even made sure to not turn the big light on, only a small one in the corner that diffuses a subdued light. Somehow, she knows exactly what to do to make you feel comfortable. 

"Let me help you," she said, coming closer to kneel in front of you when she realized you couldn't take your bath alone.

On the way home, she sent a message for one of her maids to run a bath for you to enjoy when you arrived. The mirrors fog up and a scent of jasmine fills the room, but even if the idea of taking a bath sounds good, you don't move. You are curled at the exact place she left you in, your knees against your chest.

You are like a dog, but nothing like a fighting one, she thought when she saw how you tried to back up when she reached for your shirt.

"I am not going to do anything," she quietly said, trying to sooth you by using a gentle tone and caressing your cheek with her thumb. "I am going to help you to get rid of those rags so you can get a bath, okay? Then, we can clean your wounds and have a good meal, does this sound good?" she asked and you slowly nodded. 

She helps you to get rid of your clothes that are closer to rags honestly as they have holes in them, the fabric being soaked in dirt, blood and sweat, sticking to your skin. You never felt so vulnerable than right now, under her serious gaze, what is she thinking about? It is impossible to guess but you can feel her eyes on your body as she looks you up and down. A quick glance which allows her to take a mental note about all your injuries.

"What are you doing?" she chuckled, when her eyes didn’t land on your chest but on your crossed arms - you were trying to hide, how cute. "How silly you are,” she whispered when noticing you didn't seem to understand what she was talking about, "thinking you can hide like that."

Her tone sounded too sweet for it to genuinely be and there is something behind her gentle tone that is rigging alarms in your head. You can't tell what it is exactly, but there is that weird feeling, your instinct screaming at you to be careful when your body just wants to give up and be in her arms, ‘cause what could go wrong?

She takes your hands to pull them away from your chest so you can’t hide from her anymore. Her grip is firm, just a little too strong so you understand that, despite her sweet smile, she won't hesitate to be harsh with you if you don’t behave. However, she still seems to be extra careful while moving you, as if you were a porcelain doll, because for nothing in the world she would hurt her fragile princess. She  slowly takes your arms away so she can give a glance at all your injuries. What she sees makes her sigh, she seems about to say something but keeps her words for herself ; you should have been more careful. 

She helped you to get in the bath and it was a nice moment, a few minutes you got for yourself because, surprisingly, she let you bathe yourself alone. Oh, she wasn’t far away, just at the other end of the room, keeping a close eye on you at every time, but dealing with something on her phone. She would occasionally comment on the way you were doing things, talking you throught it so you can shower the proper way, her way. Once you are done, she wraps you on a soft towel, bandages your wounds and gives you clothes that are hers, a hoodie and a short, and you can’t help but notice how good they are smelling, how comfortable you are feeling in these.

"Did you say something?" she genuinely asked, turning to you because she was sure she heard you mumbling a few words. 

She was talking about your life here, talking almost alone as you weren’t really talkative, but thinking she would miss the words you whisepered was a mistake because she never misses anything.

"Nothing important," you replied, but this answer doesn't seem to please the woman, something twitching in her eyes, coming from soft to sharp.

"When I ask you a question, you reply to it, am I clear?” she said, immediately leaving what she was doing to come close to you and grab your chin.  “You are not the one that gets to decide what’s important, your small brain can't handle big decisions and that's why I am here. I mean, see how it got you to be by yourself …" she continued, looking at you with disdain, as if she was thinking that it is only your fault if you ended up in that rat hole, caught in human trafficking. “I am here to give you a second chance and you better take it ‘cause it may be the last… so don't talk to me like that ever again, did I make myself clear enough?"

The only answer you are able to give her is a whining accompanied by a sniffle and she obviously doesn’t like that. Even if you tried your hardest to not let those tears rolling down your cheeks, you can’t help it, her harsh words only making things worse because you are already hating to disapoint the woman. 

"If I knew you would cry, I would've sold you ..", she sighed in annoyance, her nails digging into your skin, "I hate cry-babies, understand?" she asked, but it wasn’t not a question: it was a warning. "The fighter I saw in that ring must be here when I am back," she coldly added before releasing the pressure she was exerting on your face.

She leaves, slamming the door shut so you easily understand that she is upset with you reacting that way. She has done everything she could in order to help you to be comfortable here : she gave you a bath and clothes, cleaned your wounds, promised you a meal and a bed, even gave you comfort but it still doesn't seem to be enough because you were crying as if she was some sort of monster, and she can't bear that vision. She tried to repeat to herself that you are just tired, that things are going to get better with time but it doesn’t calm her down. Whether you want it or not, she will make sure that, one way or another, you will accept her and she won't hesitate to use the hard way if she has to. 

When she comes back, she notices that didn't move an inch, scared by what the woman could say and impressed by the bedroom. But it didn’t prevent your eyes from wandering around the room. It is really minimalist, there is nothing that could give you a hint about the person she is, everything is exactly where it should be, not a speck of dust and no personal objects. It feels like a hotel room more than hers.

When you hear the door, your gaze settles on the woman. Your knees are bent against your chest as if it could protect you from all the dangers of the world. She probably left you for only five minutes, but they felt like hours. Your thoughts had time to run while waiting for her : what about trying to escape? But it never worked, it’s always a dead end, a path to regrets because they always find you, making sure you won’t even think about doing it again and, if they do not find you, it's someone else. You learned that there is no escape and gave up on going back to your old life a long time ago. It is not even the fear of the armed men that is keeping you here, it's the void in you when you think about what you would do if you were free again, nothing. Nothing because you forgot how to live on your own. So you didn't move, not even a finger because she didn't ask you to do it, only being a dog that lives for its masters' will.

But what piques your curiosity is more the tray in her hands than anything else. As soon as she enters the room, closing the door behind her with her foot, a pleasant smell spreads through the room. You can see many things on the tray she brought back : a glass of water, some pills, a bowl of steaming soup with bread and a plate with rice, vegetables and chicken. When was the last time you ate a real meal? Long enough for you to not remember what it was.

"Eat." she said as she put the tray on your knees.

It smells good. That's the first thought that crossed your mind when you saw the plate. For a moment, you forget about the past hours; when was the last time you got a real meal? You can't remember, not even a fragment of a memory. 

You would eat what your owners give you, eat quickly before they come back, never knowing what you are eating nor when the next meal would be; you learned to not ask too many questions. At first, it was difficult to accept such a fate: you would refuse to even taste the food they were giving to you, but it didn't last long. Eventually, you started to eat - inhale - anything you were given without thinking twice about it.

Tonight, for the first time in years, you are going to eat something else than the leftovers of someone you don't even know. Tonight, you won't have to be scared about your food being stolen. Tonight, you can even see the smoke, a sign that your meal is still hot, freshly cooked and maybe homemade.

"I-," you started, but she didn't let you finish your sentence, your lips barely had time to move that she already cut you, leaving no place for an argument.

I am not hungry, you were about to say, and she somehow knew it. She also knew it was a lie, your stomach has been painfully twisted because of that sick feeling for days, but the knot is also caused by your fears. 

It all feels a bit too perfect. It feels like a trap, a way to encourage you to let your guard down only to break you after, making the fall harder. Some did that in the past, why not her? She doesn't look less cruel than the others. Yet, when she is talking, she seems more genuine, you could believe her when she says she only wants what's best for you, that she cares, she just has a twisted way to show it. 

"Yes, you are, so eat, now," she ordered you with such a cold tone that you don't dare to argue. There are all these warnings she doesn't say out loud but you can read in her eyes: just do whatever I tell you, pretty girl, they say. 

And, for sure, you don't want to face the consequences of your insubordination. So you slowly take the fork, not glancing away for one second, your eyes into hers. You are looking at every detail of her expression as if it would change, telling you that it is a trap, except it doesn't and her expression stays stern. It is impossible to read anything on her face, not even a hint of how she is feeling.

You take the first bit, carefully swallowing and… nothing happens. You don't feel weird, it doesn't taste bad and she doesn't snap at you for a small imaginary mistake you would have made. It is the complete opposite. The food is really good, melting on your tongue, and you start to eat quickly, not because you have to, but because you want to. For the first time in years, eating is a pleasure. 

She sighed when she noticed that you were inhaling your food, but she didn't say anything; she will have all the time later to change that habit of you. So she just stood there for a few seconds, observing you in silence, with her arms crossed, before sitting next to you - that's when you broke eye contact, once she was sure you would eat everything. 

As you are eating, she is barely paying attention to you, at least that's the impression she is giving. One of her arms wrapped around your shoulder, her hand is absently drawing circles on your skin while she is on her phone, dealing with something serious - you can hear her frustrated sighs from time to time.

Except she sees everything and your mistake was to not be careful enough around the woman. A little because of your clumsiness, mainly because of how fast you were eating, you dropped a bit of your food on the floor. You didn't think it was a big deal, picking it up to put it back on the plate. Three seconds rules, dropped on a clean floor, you don't have very high standards anyway - but she does. She turned to you the moment she felt you were moving, a curious, but disgusted, look on her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her hand grabbing your wrist before you could drop the bit of food on your plate. She moves your hand on the side of the tray, far from your plate, before you even get a chance to reply. "Drop it," she ordered to you, "that's gross, hope you weren't going to eat that." 

You shake your head, too scared to do anything else, but she knows you are lying; of course you were about to eat it. You spent the past years living like a fighting dog, you would eat anything she would give you, you might even eat directly from the dirty floor if she asked you to. She winces in disgust, not letting your hand go.

"Give me that," she snarled and you can feel how her grip tightened on your wrist to force you to give the fork away.

She then takes the tray that was in front of you to put it on her side of the bed, you are looking at her, scared she would definitely take your meal away. You are about to protest when she notices it and glances at you, daring you to say a word, you don't. 

"Come here," she said, gesturing you to come closer, she even grabbed your arm to guide you when she noticed you were hesitant to move.

She sits you between her legs and you are clearly uncomfortable, wiggling, but if she notices it, she doesn't seem to care. She is so close to you that you can feel her breath tickling your skin, but she keeps acting like nothing is weird here. When she leans to cut your food, you can feel her chest pressing against your back, the contact making your heart races. Too focused on how close you are to the woman, you barely noticed when she approached the fork from your mouth, waiting for you to open. It takes one more second for you to understand what she is waiting for and, when you do, you blush in embarrassment. She takes advantage of you opening your mouth to say something to feed you, and you don't dare to push her away. 

"Can't even eat alone, hm?" she whispered in your ear while you were chewing the bit of food she just gave you, "but that's fine, I am here now," she added, and there is something in her tone that makes you shiver.

Once she made sure you ate everything, she wrapped her arms around you, laying a kiss on your temple. It is strange how safe you are feeling in her embrace: for a few seconds you forget she is the one that beat you earlier. Right now, she is just someone that cares for you, with whom you feel at peace. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel that way, you can barely remember your life before entering the human trafficking circuit.

You don’t really know when you fell asleep, but your eyes were quick to close under the effects of her fingers running on your hair and of her voice whispering sweet words in your ears. At some point, a maid came to take the empty tray away and the woman layed the both of you in the bed, under the covers, trying her best to not wake you up. This night, you slept in a comfy bed, feeling protected in the arms of the woman despite the things she did, not even thinking one second about pushing away her hands that found their way under your sweatshirt, resting on your stomach. 

The Dog fell right into the Black Widow’s web.

[konigsblog]

Hi! This is my first time asking something :D 

Do you do anything, not nsfw? And if so, what would some random könig headcanons you agree with? Like habits and stuff you’d think he’d do? (does that make sense lmao)

If you just do nsfw you could make them nsfw headcanons.. Or just combine both aha

**HII.. i do write for sfw and fluff, as well as angst it's just not really requested as much as smut :) but here, hope you enjoy this!!! 🌙

silly könig headcannons

⭒ mentions of weed use, fluff.. 🌷🎀

⭒könig who prefers cats over dogs. they're quieter and calmer, has a ginger cat called ‘spice’ that's fiesty to new people. he loves the animal to death, and hands it to his oma when he's on deployment.

⭒i've mentioned this before, but i feel like könig was in a band as a kid, just a school one. he played the drums and was pretty emo in his teenager years...

⭒he sleeps in the weirdest positions. he'll either wake up with his body contorted into different ways, his arms above his head and across his chest with his legs intertwined with eachother.

⭒he's an easily jealous person, always top of his classes and getting 100% on his tests. his mother always wanted the best outcome for her son, so she was shocked when he decided to join the kommando spezialkräfte instead of becoming a doctor or a lawyer.

⭒has 100% attempted to get up but fell because his legs were stuck and tangled in his bedsheets.

⭒gets second hand embarrassment far too easily. he's cringing on the inside when someone does/says something stupid.

⭒absolutely hates the summer. it's horrible; everybody's sweaty and stinks, missions make him want to peal his skin off. definitely prefers autumn/winter.

⭒his favourite food to eat whilst sick is soup, a special homemade soup him and his mother made together while growing up. her own special recipe that he only teaches to his closest of friends.

⭒loves late night conversations. they're so deep and understanding, chatting for hours 'til your jaw hurts and the sun his peaking through the curtains.

⭒either drinks black coffee, really bitter. or drinks the most sugary coffee ever, no in-between. (tell me your opinions)

⭒is a morning person. gets up early and has his breakfast, something quick and easy, like toast or porridge (oatmeal), has a morning shower 'nd everything. (i love adding salt to my porridge/oatmeal)

⭒hates when people say germany and austria are the same. will definitely have a whole rant about the differences 'til you understand fully.

⭒smokes weed a lot, pretty much an addict. he says it's to calm his nerves down but he gradually started doing it more and more often. a stoner fs.

⭒enjoys movies, a lot. he loves sitting down with a blanket beside him, covered in orange cat hair. will probably make a bowl of popcorn to eat whilst watching, but ends up eating it all before he's even 30 minutes in.

big, bear hugs. we all know that the big, brute and towering man gives amazing hugs, but he really wants to lay atop of you, to cage you with his warmth.

⭒has a tendency to over share, rants sometimes while pretending to be confident, finding anything to talk about before feeling a bit uncomfortable with what he'd said.

⭒isn't shy. it's my biggest pet peeve when people make könig out to be someone shy, scared, ect.. he's not shy, he's socially anxious, but that doesn't make him quiet. he either puts on a front and pretends to be confident with a cocky, loud personality.

⭒absolutely adores milk. he drinks like a gallon in two days, that's why he's 6’10.

⭒enjoys mint chocolate chip ice cream, hates strawberry, especially if they have chunks. (self projecting)

⭒enjoys doing the dishes, finds it satisfying. until he touches food and gags.

⭒avid banana hater, the texture to the taste, everything about it makes him feel ill.

⭒listens to music for hours, usually something rock or heavy metal, loud music in his ears and the loud explosions gives him some hearing damage.

⭒usually smells woodsy, fresh cut trees and vanilla.

⭒germaphobe. doesn't like being near people when they're sick and will avoid them, probably because he gets sick too easily, despite having a strong immune system.

⭒isn't a very emotional person, he has sympathy for others but can't express it through tears and emotions. he's cold and aggressive to the recruits, blaming them for his issues because he struggles taking blame and fault for situations and needs a punching bag.

⭒owned a fish when he was around 7, cried because it died. turns out it was alive and he saw it swim down the toilet. never got another fish again, traumatized.

⭒doesn't like being told he's in the wrong, will refuse and deny it 'til he's forced to either apologise or end the friendship.

⭒curly ginger, or wavy ginger, you can't change my mind.

⭒doesn't really understand tiktok that much, or instagram. not really something that he's interested in, but occasionally uses twitter for like 5 minutes.

⭒has anemia, or iron deficiency. takes a couple naps a day because he doesn't like taking his supplements.

these are all i could think off 😵‍💫 tell me your personal headcannons!!

banner credit; @cafekitsune

[dwindlinghaze]

reader pretending she (or they) doesn’t love peter back when he confesses because she is scared to lose him as a friend if they break up so after some angst and pining and avoiding feelings they end up together? ty!

main thing

(peter parker x reader)

summary : you're scared of losing peter as a friend by being more than friends with him.

contents : fluff, small angst ig, she they pronouns used!!! kind of short and rushed im so sorry but i love this concept a lot so thank you anon !!! 🫧🫧

a/n : im back!!!!! im really sorry if my writting is messy and stuff cuz i haven't been writing fics for months noww,, anyway i hope u like it 🫧☃️☁️ and a little rant here um i have this exact situation with a girl- i like her a lot and i knew she liked me back but i also happened to know that if we were to be together it will not last very long so we just ignore whatever is there between us. but don't worry lovelies r and peter's ending won't be like mine <3

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

the hallway between classes were so full. crowded by students walking in eight cardinal directions. your head felt dizzy, it's like you're seeing everything underwater. your steps came to a halt when you were met with a row of lockers. palm against the cold metal as you gain back your stability.

peter must've seen you from the other side of the hall. frowning as he took in your state.

he walked over to you, cautiously. "you okay?"

you looked up to meet his eyes, immediately closing them back when the ceiling light hit your vision. "not feeling well."

peter placed his left palm over your cheek, rubbing them softly to soothe you. he didn't know if it helped but he smiled nevertheless when you nuzzled your face further into his hand.

you wanted peter to give you a hug, maybe his shoulder can be a good resting spot for your heavy head and his warmth can relax your muscles.

and of course. peter did. without you even asking.

"wanna go to the infirmary?" he asked softly, rubbing the side of your head as you completely lose all energy, so now he's the one that held you standing.

"mmh," you replied, not having the energy to form real words.

"alright then let's go," peter started to pull away but stopped midway when he felt you struggling.

"pete, i'm sorry i can't, i have to lay down," you whispered. so soft and low. if he weren't that close to you, he wouldn't hear it.

"that's alright, just slow steps," he encouraged.

he missed his class but he didn't care. he just wanted to be there with you. showing his affection because of his new slash old found love he has for you.

your migraine has not subsided at all the following day. you decided, for good, to skip class. there's no point in going to school when you're sick anyway right? you'll have ended up in a worse condition by the end of the day.

peter was searching for you left and right, he knew you were sick and he is worried sick about your whereabouts. he called you several times already but you never picked up.

when school finally finished, which for him was the longest six hours of his life, he immediately went to your house.

your mother was the one greeting him, saying that you're resting in the comfort of your bed. he went upstairs, after getting your mom's permission, and knocked on your door softly. "hey, it's me peter, can i come in?"

you gave him a very soft hum, thanks to his advanced hearing he can hear you just well.

you were lying on your bed, covered in tons of blankets. peter felt warmth rushing through his chest, seeing you like this. he approached you slowly and kneeled beside your bed.

"how are you feeling?" he asked ever so gently, hand on your shoulder with the blanket in between.

you peeked an eye open, your room was dimly lit, only your vanity lights were on. "better than yesterday," you answered, pushing yourself up slowly. "the migraine is not as bad as yesterday, my head is hurting- just a little."

"oh okay," peter replied. "do you need anything? i can bring you food or drink or water? do you need painkillers?"

you smiled, reaching for his hand, "i'm fine pete, just cold. can you turn up the ac please?"

peter did just that, jumping to his feet to take the remote.

after that you fell into a deep sleep again. peter was there the whole time. he was thinking about... stuff. stuff he wants to tell you.

he sat on your bed right beside your blanketed legs, his hands over them. he looked at you, your sleepy face, perfect hair, soft cheeks. you are his friend. best friend in the whole world. no one understands him like you did. just a few months ago he realised that his feelings may have grown.

it's not just a friendship kind of love but a lover kind of love.

he recalled the amount of time he had cried on your arms. laughed together with you. talk about embarrassing things he had done and had regretted. nobody knows him like you do. and peter would not let anybody know him like you do.

you're the only person that he can be vulnerable with. the only one that he can just be himself even if it's not the best. the only one he trusts.

"what are you thinking over there?" your voice pulled him out of his thoughts. he gave you a smile and you gave peter space for him to lie down.

"just thinking about thoughts... ?" peter answered but it's more like a question.

"thoughts about?"

"nothing."

"you know you can always tell me anything right? no matter what it is," you assured the boy.

"yeah..."

"so...?"

"you're sick right now, you should be resting," he said instead.

you sat up, stretching your muscles as you scrunched up your face. "i feel a whole lot better now... hey do you want some meal and we'll talk about whatever you are thinking about? cause by the look of your face, it's something that has been bothering you hm?."

peter thought about it for a while, but he really didn't have to. it was about time for him to tell you how he feels. he just hoped that you feel the same way.

your mom brought the two of you dinner to your room, you thanked her before she left and urged peter to eat. "pete?"

"yeah," he cleared his throat, "um i don't really know how to start this."

"it's okay, you can take as much time as you want, i'll be here," you said as you take a spoonful of the dinner.

that's also another thing about you that made his feelings even more clear. you never pushed him. always waiting for him to be ready.

"i like someone," he started. you stopped what you were doing and turn your focus fully on him. your heart felt like it has been crushed. "i know we never talk about y'know- this kind of stuff together but the thing is, i like her so much maybe i even love her, i don't know yet though cause i don't really know how love feels- but i sure do like her a lot."

"and does she know this?"

"no... but she knows now" peter answered, hoping that you'd get what he meant.

"what do you mean?"

peter sighed looking down at his lap, "well she's my best friend. my only friend actually. i really really want to be more than friends with them because she is everything to me. i smile every morning because i know i will see them later that day. i spent most of my time thinking about the two of us together. and you know just how worried i was when they didn't go to school because she was sick."

"peter-" you warned him.

"y/n, listen to me-"

"peter please don't," you whispered. you thought you would be jumping and giggling if peter ever confessed to you but instead it's the complete opposite. you don't want this. you can't have this no matter how much of you wanted him.

peter's eyes were brimming with emotion, shiny tears fighting their way not to roll down. "you don't feel the same do you?"

you wanted to say yes. yes you feel the same, you like him so much and that's what you're so worried about. "peter it's not that easy. we- we can't," you shook your head.

peter's brows knitted together, he was bitting the insides of his lower lip. "that's ok. i'll just go home now. i'm sorry for making things weird yeah? just forget everything i said. tomorrow is a new day." he forced a smile before he is out the door.

just like what peter has said 'tomorrow is a new day' so you acted like yesterday never happened. you walked into school, seeing peter by his locker. you smiled at him. "morning!"

"morning, y/n," peter said back, voice cracking.

"let's go to class," you suggested.

through out the day everything was just like how it used to be. you still sit besides each other. still eat lunch together. everything was the same... except that peter can't look at you for more than three seconds and you two don't talk as much anymore.

peter still walked you home, though there is no goodbye hug.

you wondered if you had made the wrong decision. what if you just accept your feelings and let peter in? but the thoughts of ever, god forbid, breaking up with him is what makes you back away from accepting his love.

you love peter so much. more than you can ever say. in a world of boys he's a gentleman. he proved so today. even after getting rejected and having his own heart torn into pieces, he still walked you home.

the next day though, peter seemed to be avoiding you.

you tried to come to him several times but he just gives you short replies. you couldn't blame him. he has every right to do so.

it has been two weeks since. you missed your peter so much. you missed his cheeky smile. his science jokes. his laugh that never fails to make you smile.

sure you can live without peter parker, but would it be as exciting? would you let the only person that knows you best slipped away like that just because you pretend to not return his feelings?

it was such an emotional rollercoaster. on one hand you want to wake up beside peter, but on the other you worried that he'll realize that he's better alone so you'd break up. you want to cuddle up next to him, but you fear he'll get sick of you and break up.

why does every intimate thought of him always ends up with breaking up?

you tried to bottle up your feeling until you can't anymore. so here you are now, knocking at his door.

he opened up, looking as tired as one can be. now that you really look at him, you notice his beautiful freckles that doted all over his nose and cheeks, his smile lines around his eyes, his pretty eyes that you love so much. even in his exhausted state he still looked so- so perfect.

"y/n? what're you doing here?" peter spoke.

"i want to talk to you." you mumbled, looking down at the pavement.

peter was silent. complete silence.

"i want to tell you that i do like you too, peter. i was just being dumb because you're my best friend for years and if we ever get together, what will happen when we break up? i don't want to lose you. so by pushing my feelings aside i can just continue like nothing happened... but i can't stop thinking about how i have hurt you. i completely denied and hurt your feelings and i can't forgive myself for that."

peter put a warm hand over your shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth.

"it's fine. if you don't want this then we don't have to." he said.

"but i want this."

"you do?"

"yes but-," you took a deep breath, "but what if we broke up?"

peter shook his head at that, "we haven't even got together yet and you're thinking of breaking up?"

"it's not funny."

"y/n look at me, i love you. i will not let that happen. and if you really think about it, what is there to be the reason of our break up?"

"i don't know something might come up."

"we know everything about each other, we understand each other. if there's something, i'm so so sure we can work it out," peter placed a hand on your cheek, forehead touching.

"really think so?"

"of course," he replied. "i'm also sorry for saying that so suddenly. i should've known better."

"it's okay peter, we're here."

"yeah we are, and we are not leaving each other yeah?"

"promise," you said.

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

literally shaking, convulsing, after reading your work, oh my goodness. my favourite is your metal arm drabble, your miiiiiiind—literally blacking out as we speak, send help, immediately. now, i had a thought:

bucky with a pillow princess, but like, kind of laying her down as a pillow princess, he just wants to make her feel good, because i know this man eats pussy like his life depends on it, like it’s so vital, he’s totally addicted.

i hope you’re doing well, please take care of yourself. and i hope this ask isn’t obnoxiously long; i did get carried away here. only because you’re the bestest!

I loved writing that drabble so much and I'm so happy you liked it!! I'm sorry for being gone and taking my time to answer your asks, but I do have a lot to say about this...

You felt a certain pressure to service Bucky. Not because of anything he did, he never made you feel pressured with anything. But after everything he’s been through and being so emotionally and intimately neglected, you wanted to show him the other side of it. You wanted him to lie back and go cross-eyed with pleasure. You wanted him hissing and groaning and whining for more. You just love it when his face contorts and relaxes violently as if unable to choose between pleasure and relaxation. Selfishly, you fucking love that.

But Bucky doesn’t really understand how you think pleasuring you doesn’t give him nearly as much pleasure, if not more. When he pulls at his own cock, he imagines you coming around it and squeezing his come from him, he imagines grinding into the mattress with his face buried between your thighs, he imagines his other hand knuckle deep inside of you until you drool. Bucky’s fantasy is always of your pleasure. Specifically, the pleasure induced by him.

He likes that you put up a fight, however. Bashfully slapping or shoving him away, writhing in the sheets as he positions you in a way that he knows is comfortable for you. He’ll be firm and gentle, pretending like it isn’t the easiest thing in the world to manhandle you. He likes spreading a wide hand over your belly to keep you down and then… tease.

Kissing, biting, tracing, nudging everywhere but where you need him. With knuckles and lips and fingertips and the tip of his nose. Nipping with his teeth as he watches you clench around nothing and until slick drips down between your legs. That is when you become pliant like he wants you.

Oh, he loves eating pussy, but he enjoys it so much when you just… take him.

“That’s it,” he’ll murmur and nudge his nose over your clit, making you shudder. “Just how I like it. Let me have my way with you for a little while…”

You can only whimper, knowing the only way to get what you want – what he made you want – is to take everything he gives you. Allow him to enjoy eating your pussy more than you enjoy having your pussy eaten. And then, you feel his tongue. Sliding through your slick and curling around your clit, before the small nub gets sucked between his perfect lips until the nerve endings swell with need.

Oh shit–

“Good girl,” he whispers and wraps his entire mouth around you, groaning into your folds as his arms wrap around your thighs and pull you up to his mouth further.

He once had you like this under a table at a deserted restaurant, where you tried to push his head away and fought for your life to keep some modesty about you. He enjoyed that too, but–

The low moan that leaves you on a sigh has Bucky pressing his hips into the mattress with a choked grunt. His ministrations sound so wet and filthy, it spurs him on even more. His tongue slips and his lips tingle with something like adrenaline to push you further. Your flesh dips where his fingers grip you and he groans at that, too.

He’s not sure if the heavy breaths he hears are yours or his, doesn’t know if your hands in his hair pull him closer or push him away. He chooses to believe you pull him closer– and he doubles his efforts, making you gasp with a high-pitched whine. Oh, you are heaven on his tongue…

And then, you say something that has Bucky smirk wolfishly.

“More.”

He peers up, marvelling at your heaving chest, your swollen lips and glowing skin. He makes an inquisitive noise and knows you’re fully in tune with him when you repeat yourself on the last of your oxygen.

So his finger breaches your entrance and you sigh in delight, clenching around the digit gratefully. You sink down into him and Bucky’s heart swells, his brain shutting off. He’s not going to feel sated with just one orgasm. He needs all of them. He wants you begging for more, yet unable to do so. He wants to burst with all the things he wants from you.

His eyes flick towards the clock on the nightstand and he smiles at himself. 7am. That is plenty of time. Plenty of time to make you soak the sheets, move you to the couch, eat you there while he washes the sheets, and then move you back to the bed where he will worship you until you’ve lost a day to laying in the pillows and taking him.

Your moans raise in pitch, breaths coming to you with more difficulty. He slides another finger in to add to his first, skating over that spongey spot and causing your thighs to tremble.

“Right there, huh?” he mumbles and presses soft kisses to your clit as his fingers explore inside of you. “You going to come for me? I want you on my tongue, okay? I want you to come right on my tongue so I can lick you up. Let me lick you up, baby. Let me taste your come.”

He doesn’t know where the filthy words come from, but the contortion in your face tells him you’re exactly on the same wavelength as him, and it drives him insane to know how much you love the idea of him drinking you up as you come for him.

His nose circles your clit as his tongue settles right along his fingers. “Good job, sweetheart. Come. Right now.”

[jadewritesficshere]

Sitting Pretty

This is just pure filth like barely a plot ok 😫🥴

Eddie Munson x Female!reader

18+ONLY

Warnings: pet names (baby, pretty girl), slight degradation and condescending language (use of slut) (this really isn't degradation in my mind but that's cause I'm used to a lot worse so technically it is but), boot riding, squirting

Eddie dropped the box on the coffee table with a loud thud. It landed next to the other boxes he had carried, and the one you had. After a long day of work, he was tired. He wanted to sit down, relax, and do absolutely nothing. Of course, when you called and said you needed help moving boxes, he came. He knew he was entirely fucked. Wrapped around your fingers. You could tell him to jump and he'd ask how high.

Eddie pushed a strand of hair out of his face, it briefly getting caught on his fingers, making him shake his hand to get it unstuck. He glared at the partially grey hair still wound around his fingers (you said it made him look distinguished and metal. He couldn't complain too much at that). You set your own box on the table and smiled at him,"Thanks Eds, I know you're tired. It means a lot to me you would do this." Eddie hummed,"mhm. What is this stuff anyways?" "Oh, my uncle and aunt were getting rid of a bunch of stuff, so they gave it to my parents, who got rid of more stuff, aaaannnd dumped it on me," you shrugged," I'll go through it and see if there is anything good, then send it to the secondhand store."

Together, you and Eddie started going through the boxes. Eddie pretended to be wounded finding a dungeon master's guide, you found a harmonica and attempted to play a Corroded Coffin song (which had Eddie wheeze laughing and joking about adding a harmonica solo to their next single), he had tried on a pink jacket at your insistence while you had put on a hat that didn't fit (both of you traded items and agreed they looked better on each other then yourselves before promptly tossing the items back in the box), and then you struck gold.

You pulled out a pair of light brown leather cowboy boots. The intricate stitching on the side had caught your eye at the bottom of the box. The tips of the shoes slightly pointed and squared off. You blink at them and hand them to Eddie. Eddie looks at them before scoffing," Nope, those will squish my feet. You see the ends of them?" You roll your eyes," Eddie, if they hurt people's feet why would cowboys wear them? They work on their feet all day!" Eddie was tempted to tease you and say cowboys aren't real, but then you pout at him. The pout making your lips stand out caused him to hesitate. "Please?" He sighed and couldn't help but give you a quick kiss before grumbling and sitting to put the boots on. He could hear your faint cheers as he sat on the recliner.

Your focus was on the box in front of you until you heard Eddie clear his throat and ask,"Well, what do ya think?" You turned and-

Damn.

Eddie stood there with his hands on his hips. Your eyes trailed over him. His curly hair was frizzy from the humidity and a long day of working and sweating at the auto shop. His skin pale, save for a smear of oil on his cheekbone. His tank top showed off his arms beautifully, muscles straining, his bicep wrapped from a new tattoo he had gotten. The tank top tight against his skin, showing you his waist. You could see the bump at his belly button where his piercing was. His jeans were slightly loose, the only light wash pair he owned that he threw on when he hadn't done the laundry. Those stupid cowboy boots sat on his feet, the slight heel giving him extra height. He turned and held his arms out, striking a few poses. They weren't heels, but they made his ass pop (God, now you wanted to see him in heels). The light jeans making his ass look bigger, perfect to hold. Slap even.

"Ya know, they actually are kinda comfortable," Eddie turned back to face you with a smile," they don't- oof!" Eddie lands on the recliner with a grunt from you pushing him. He glares at you," you have to quit doing that! You're gonna strain my back or some shit." "Hm...stop being so fuckable then," you climb on top of his lap and lean close to his ear to whisper," besides, you like it." Eddie clears his throat and grasps your hips. You roll your hips slightly into his, watching him inhale sharply. The scruff of his unshaved jaw beckons you forward, kissing it lightly before trailing down his neck.

You nip and suck at his neck, smirking as he tilts his head to give you better access. His hands that firmly grasp your hips, shift to grab your ass instead. You hum as you pull back, staring at the glistening neck and the lovely purple mark you left. It may be childish to leave a hickey, but you couldn't help but want to mark Eddie up, adding shades of purple and red near his existing tattoos. Eddie's eyes are blown, his pale face flushed a deep red. You shift on top of him, rolling your hips into his again, feeling his hardening length. The feeling of you grinding against him makes him groan. Unbuttoning his jeans, you awkwardly try to unzip them, leaning back into Eddie's hands. He takes that moment to squeeze your ass. You whimper at the feeling and lean forward to kiss him, thoughts of removing his pants forgotten.

His lips are soft, slightly chapped, but still so plush against yours. Your mouths move in tandem, tongues darting out. Eddie licks into your mouth, groaning as he takes control. He sucks on the tip of your tongue before pulling back. Both of you taking deep breaths. "Take these off baby," Eddie mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shorts. You nod and clamber off him.

You push your shorts and panties down, balancing a hand on Eddie's knee as you step out of them. You go to get back on Eddie but he stops you," Now hold on, baby." You let out a whine in annoyance. Eddie chuckles and clicks his tongue at you," You seem all pent up, what's got you like this?" "You, now let me on-" "Nah, I think it's something else. Like my boots, Baby?" You nod emphatically, attempting to straddle Eddie again, but he puts his leg out in front of you. The sole of his boot presses against your stomach, and he pushes you back lightly. "Prove it pretty girl."

You pause and tilt your head slightly before grasping Eddie's boot covered ankle. Eddie nods to his foot and taps your stomach with the sole. You step back and bend at the hips, eyes locked with Eddie's, and kiss the tip of the boot. He chuckles and motions you with a finger to continue. You give the boot another kiss, and another. The leather firm against your mouth. Eddie smirks," You can do better then that." "I'm not licking the boot." You stand up and drop Eddie's foot with a thud. Eddie relaxes back spreading his legs, "Who said anything about licking? What's that saying...save a horse, ride a cowboy?"

You blink at him as your mouth falls open. Eddie taps the boot against the hardwood ground, causing clicks to echo. "Go on pretty girl." You can feel your arousal slowly drip down your thighs at the thought of Eddie's request. It was demeaning, dirty, and damn if it didn't delight you. You slowly kneel at Eddie's feet, lowering yourself until your core hit the leather.

The fabric was stiff and slightly rough against your pussy. Your arousal dripping onto the boot, causing it to slicken and make it easier to move. You look up from where you're situated to look at Eddie. You can't help the moan that escapes at the site of him. The once slightly baggy jeans are now very filled out from his bulge. One hand resting on it, squeezing lightly. The top of his unbuttoned jeans showing off his happy trail. The opal belly button piercing glinting in the light. The tattoo of the dragon above the jewelry moving with every deep breath he takes. A hickey on his pec from last week. The rest of his tattoos scattered about, glistening from sweat. The scruff on his jaw and neck. The grey hairs at his temples. The smirk on his face, even though it is flushed. The demeaning look he gives you.

You grind against the boot, faltering slightly under his gaze. "Look at you, sitting pretty," Eddie coos at you, patting your head. He knows you hate that, making you feel small. Stupid. "Such a good slut, making my boots all wet." His words make you clench around nothing, throbbing with want.

You buck your hips quicker against his boot. You shift angles slightly and moan as the boot rubs against your clit. The sensation is too much. The pleasure invades your brain, coherent thoughts gone. You feel the pressure building in your lower stomach. A tingly warmth spreading out from your core. "Fuck I'm-" your breath hitches and your hips fumble losing rhythm. "Come for me baby," Eddie grasps your jaw firmly, tilting your head up to face him," Drench my boots like the good slut you are, pretty girl." You gasp as the pressure builds to a crescendo. Your eyes close and you moan head falling back in pleasure. Lights flash behind your eyes as euphoria spreads throughout your limbs. You distantly feel the wetness gush as your hips buck wantonly. Your brain goes fuzzy with static from euphoria. You briefly hear Eddie moan a fuck.

You come back down to earth, loosening your grip on Eddie's thighs. You hadn't even realized you were gripping them. You scoot away from his boot, still on your knees. The light brown leather is soaked, turning a dark brown. A puddle of your release is on the boot, making you feel warm from embarrassment.

"Fucking hell...you squirted," Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. You stand on shaky legs, Eddie helping hold you in place. You glance down at the puddle slowly dripping off his shoe and onto the floor. "Can I ride you now?" You ask saccharinely.

"You're gonna have to give me a minute," Eddie's eyes dart away from yours, clearing his throat. He shifts and you glance at the movement. His jeans are slightly loose again. The light denim jeans having turned dark at a wet spot. "Made me come like a fucking teenager," Eddie stands grabbing your hand. He tugs on your arm, leading you towards the bedroom.

You were definitely keeping the cowboy boots.

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕄𝕖𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕥𝕙 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ anon request: Could I request Simeon, Barbatos, and Solomon with a metalsmith s/o?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Yeah! Definitely! Honestly, I'm not fully satisfied with it but... I hope you're still gonna somehow like it?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ Barbatos is honestly surprised someone his young is still doing it, it's now rare to find a metalsmith so you must be really dedicated...

✧ back then, when metalsmiths were still common, he remembers helping and observing, learning how humans do it

✧ so now when he sees you, he'd love to see if the methods changed and maybe even push you towards right direction

✧ if you're simply using new methods, he'd be more than happy to learn or understand them better

✧ but if you're new to this, he won't interrupt your learning process but he might point out few basic mistakes so you won't adapt them later on

✧ if you're a woman, he'll be even more impressed, it's not often you meet female metalsmith so his theory that you're passionate about this, only confirms more

✧ even if you're not working as metalsmith and do it just as a hobby, he'll still support you

"Few years ago your earn thousands by doing this everyday... well yes, it is couple hundreds but for me there's little difference."

✧ and if you have your shop of any kind, he'll be happy to assist you and help you out, mostly in the cleaning process since he doesn't want to accidentally mess up your vision but still wants to somehow help

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Simeon has big respect towards what you're doing, he know it's not easy nor is it profitable nowadays

✧ if you'll want to, he'll be happy to tell you how this profession was doing in the past but he doesn't want to demotivate you either so he might keep it brief

✧ if it's your job, he'll often remind you how rare it is and try to motivate you so you won't burn out

✧ but if you're doing this because it's your hobby , he'll of course still do his best to motivate you but also takes it a bit easier as he realizes you must have some passion for it if you call it your hohby

✧ he definitely knows more about this than technology so you can actually count on his help here!

✧ if you want him to help with metal, he gladly will do his best to take some weight off your shoulders

✧ but if you just need someone to clean, he'll be happy to do that too and knows he won't mess up here so he's much more confident!

"Don't worry. You can finish your swords, I'll take care of cleaning. Oh and also, would you like to eat something? It was about 6 hours since you had something... I'd be happy to cook something for you."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@vodka-glrl - come get your soft angel~

✧ Solomon somehow have that feeling you'll be into stuff like that, it was like his intuition just told him the right thing

✧ he's happy to see you're doing something so important and so rare

✧ he can't keep his hands to himself, he'll touch every sword or anything you make and inspect it. But he at least gives compliments while doing so!

"Wow... this sword is great! You really did it by hand? I'm surprised it hasn't been sold yet... if someone won't take it, I might as well do so!"

✧ if you're doing this just for works sake, he'll try to show you all the positives of what you're doing and hopefully you can start enjoying your job as well

✧ but if you're doing this we hobby, prepare he'll often drop his ideas to you and watch what you'll do with them

✧ he's really just hanging out around you and being your mental support as he peeks into every corner

✧ and he probably knows a lot about metalsmith work too but he decides to keep it a secret and pretend to learn from you, because he just loves seeing how much you know about it and your passion for it

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[animeficsworld]

Babysitter

Metal Bat x Reader

Summary:  You are the babysitter of the one and only Metal Bat's little sister. But what happens when a certain man starts liking you?

---

Zenko specifically asked for you.

She wanted you to be her babysitter since she liked you so much. You met her when she was waiting for her brother to pick her up, you were concerned to see a child alone so you walked up to her.

You noticed that she was a very strong person immediately. And so, you agreed to be there for her.

She needed you a lot, when she had practice or when her brother was busy with his hero stuff, you took care of her.

And while you looked after Zenko, a certain hero had his eyes on you. But of course, you didn't know about that. You would have never thought that a man like Bad will like you, so you just contiued with your secret crush.

One time you went to pick up Zenko after her practice, when you noticed Bad standing there. 

"Oh." you said as he looked at you. 

"Y/N."

"Hello Bad. I thought I will have to pick Zenko up."

"I didn't have anything to do so I came, I should have called you not to come." 

"It's okay, I promised her that we would stop at the donut shop in front of the station, will you join us?" He looked a bit surprised. 

"You shouldn't treat her this many time. I heard you treated her to ice cream the other day."

"It's okay, I like spending time with her."

"At least let me pay you back." he said as he reached for his wallet. 

"No no. It's really okay."

There was a moment of silence as you just stood there next to each other, waiting for Zenko. You finally decided to speak up.

"You know, Bad. Your sister is really something. She's so fierce, independent, I envy her, she's so fearless. I'm very thankful and happy that she asked me to look after her whenever I can." 

"I like you." you looked up at the hero standing next to you, you were shocked. Did you hear him correctly?

"Huh?"

"I like you, Y/N. Please go out with me." you could only blink.

"Onii-chan!" You suddenly heard Zenko. She rushed to her brother and hugged his leg. Then she looked at you. "Why is your face so red, Y/N-chan?" The siblings looked at you and this only made it worse.

"N-Nothing. It's nothing. I'm just...hot. Yeah, I think I shouldn't have worn a thick jacket." you laughed awkwardly. 

"Well, Onii-chan, Y/N-chan promised donuts for me, so I'm going."

Zenko grabbed his brother's and your hand and lead you in the direction of the store. You were still shocked about Bad's confession. It wasn't that you didn't like him, you did, it was just that you really didn't expect him to say something like that.

In the end, Bad paid for all of your food and drinks. As all three of you sat at a table, eating while Zenko talked about her day.

Then when she left to go to the bathroom, the silence between you two continued. You knew you needed to do something or he might get the wrong idea.

"B-Bad...I-I don't know how to say this, you, an S class hero, liking me, you shocked me. B-but I don't hate it. I also like you, it's just that I'm a bit ner-" you couldn't finish your sentence as he leaned over the table and kissed you on the lips. His lips were smooth. And when he pulled back he was blushing a bit.

"I'll take you on a date. I'll text you details later."

"O-Uhm. Okay." you said, blushing madly.

Zenko arrived back and both of you pretended like nothing happened. 

***

You didn't even notice, but only a week later, you were waiting for Bad under the Christmas tree at the station. He still had five minutes to arrive. He said he will take you on a cosy date.

"Y/N!" you heard him yell. "You look beautiful." he said. a slight pink tint on his face, you assumed it was because of the cold weather.  

"Thank you." although he was wearing his usual black trousers with his red shirt under, he wore a jacket today. And of course, his bat was right in his hand. 

"I hope you like hot chocolate." he said as he started to walk with you following him.

"I do."

He bought you a hot chocolate which almost burnt your tongue, it was so hot. During the date you talked about yourself and so did he, you got to know each other better. You learned that he actually was a very soft person although his attitude and the way he spoke was telling you otherwise.

Bad really was an amazing person, and you felt very lucky to spend time with him, that is until a group of his fans decided to come up to you.

You would never mind fans, but they weren't nice. They kept on shoving you further away from him until you weren't even close. You decided to just wait out what would happen and stood there. You watched as they all drolled over him, some even touched him, that not only bothered you, but him as well.

"STOP!" he yelled and the girls got shocked. "I have a date, and you are taking it too far. I don't mind pictures or whatever, but now you need to leave!" he didn't even wait as he pushed the girls away and grabbed your hand, walking away. His other hand was gripping his bat in anger. Soon the two of you arrived at a rather isolated place. 

"Thank you." you said so softly he barely heard you, but he did. You stopped in front of you and just stood there for a second before he turned around to face you.

"You are beautiful." he said as snow began to fall. 

You decided not to say anything, you pulled him close by his shirt and kissed him. You closed this eyes and let your feelings get the best of you. You only heard your heartbeat and when he wrapped his arms around you, you hear him drop his bat. 

You were so glad that you became Zenko's babysitter, now you knew you needed to find a way to tell her that you fell in love with her brother.

[suzukiblu]

Another excerpt from the one where Clark panic-adopts his teenage clones (yes, including the supervillain one).

Previously-posted excerpts: one | two

Thirteen is in a cell in the basement, to Match's entire lack of surprise–that's standard procedure, with his class of prisoner. There are no guards on the floor, but Thirteen is currently suspended in an anti-grav field in the center of the room.

No way to use his TTK on anything but himself, then.

That's not as secure a containment procedure as the Agenda thinks it is.

Match should inform them of that. And he will inform them of that.

Eventually.

"Superman," Match says as he inspects the room for a power source or some manner of off switch for the field. Thirteen says nothing, because he's unconscious. Sedated, presumably, which is also standard procedure with his class of prisoner.

That would explain the lack of guards despite Thirteen's recorded tendency to escape, Match supposes. Though there'll be someone watching the cameras either way, of course, so they don't have long before someone shows up.

The reinforced door on the other side of the room tears off its hinges and reveals Superman standing behind it. His eyes are blazingly red. There's crumpled metal twisted up in his hands.

"I found the other experiments," he says.

"Were they viable?" Match asks.

"No," Superman says, very darkly. Match wonders if that means Superman killed them, or if that means they were already dead. It's not really something he's going to think too much about either way.

He has a lot of dead brothers, after all. Some of them he killed himself.

Assuming that he uses Thirteen's definition of what a "brother" is, anyway.

They have a lot of dead brothers from Cadmus, too.

Or at least twelve of them, anyway.

Superman strides forward into the room, staring up at Thirteen's suspended form. Match inspects the power source he's found.

"I think I can disable the anti-grav," he says. "I don't see any traps or failsafes, at least."

"Then disable it," Superman says. He's still just looking at Thirteen.

He's only ever looked at Thirteen.

Match wonders what might've happened if he'd just pretended to be Thirteen after all, and never told Superman anything about this lab. It's a stupid thing to wonder, though.

He already knows Superman doesn't even like Thirteen, whether he looks at him or not. There's no reason he'd like Match any better.

Even if he is a better experiment.

Match disassembles the power source with a quick burst of TTK and the field deactivates. Thirteen falls out of the air. Superman catches him in his arms.

Match wonders why he bothered. It's not like the fall would've injured Thirteen. He's not even conscious enough to have noticed the impact.

"Ngh," Thirteen says, his eyelashes fluttering restlessly.

. . . alright, maybe he would've noticed the impact.

Still, though.

"You're safe, Kon," Superman tells Thirteen quietly. "I've got you."

"Ngh," Thirteen repeats, and then just sinks back into unconsciousness and goes completely limp in Superman's arms. There is no trace of wariness or fear or anything but absolute faith in those words in any part of him.

Match cannot even imagine ever having a similar interaction with another sentient being.

He feels . . . odd, he thinks, hearing Superman say "Kon". He knows it's one of Thirteen's preferred aliases, of course–he's heard the various members of Young Justice all use it more than once, usually by unknowingly calling him by it. It's not a secret or anything.

He's never heard Superman use it before, though.

[rogueddie]

The small selection of metal music at the local music store is pathetic. It’s a lot of old stuff, the more popular albums. The type of popular albums that, Steve is pretty sure, every metalhead already owns. He knows for certain that Eddie already has at least 85% of the albums available, and those are just the ones that Steve can remember.

“There has to be one,” Robin insists, glaring at the selection.

"There is nothing," Steve repeats. He waves his arms at the displays, wild enough that Robin flinches back. "There is nothing! They don't even have that Metallica one, the- the puppets one."

"Master of the puppets?" She says, stepping closer, moving cassettes aside. "No way, that came out in March."

"It's not here."

"What the fuck. There is nothing!"

"That's what I've been saying!"

"There's got to be something, right? Anything!"

Steve watches her move to one side and begin looking through every album... again. He knows she won't find anything, especially on her own- she doesn't pay attention to Eddies music enough to know what he already has.

But, whilst looking around in boredom, he spots it.

The single is in the sale bin, barely visible. Steve only noticed it because of the bands logo and, pulling it out, confirms his suspicion. It's only the one song on the cassette but it's perfect.

"Rob, I found it."

"What? Really?!" She practically jumps on his back in her excitement, nearly bowling him over. "That's great, that- oh. Steeeeve, that's just the single! And you said he has that album already!"

"I know it's... it's the song."

"What, did you make-out to it?" Her laughter quickly stops when she glances over at him, noticing his blush. "Did- oh, Steve, gross!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"You said it with your face!"

"Then stop looking at me!"

Robin pretends to gag, shoving him lightly, before turning serious. "You're sure this is the right one? We could still go to Indy."

"No, this is perfect, he'll love it. I'm sure."

"Good for you. What could I get him that can compete with that?"

"Nothing. There's no competition, mine will always be better."

"Ok, I know you're jealous that I'm wooing your boy toy so easy, but you don't have to be a bitch about it."

Steve repeats her in a mocking high voice, sticking his tongue out and blowing a raspberry when she punches his arm.

[tsuutarr]

Pokémon Prom: Arven

Pairing: Arven x GN! reader

Word count: 959

Content: fluff, prom

Summary: a part of my Pokémon Prom series where Pokémon characters ask you out to prom (Arven ver).

Arven can feel the moisture gather at his palms, making them a sweaty mess. He can’t help it, though–this is probably the most nervous he’s been in a while. He’s rehearsed at least a couple hundred times in front of the mirror, afraid to mess up, but the more he practices, the more he thinks he’ll mess up.

“Okay–it’s simple, just ask,” he mutters, clenching and unclenching his hands. “The worst that can happen is a rejection–”

“Is this seat taken?”

Arven’s head swivels so fast he’s pretty sure his neck is broken. “Yeah–no. I mean, no it’s not taken.”

You laugh, taking the spot next to him. “You okay, Arven?”

“Yeah.” He can feel his throat dry as his hands get clammier. “Yeah.”

Your initial smile tips downwards. “Are you sure? You–”

“Yeah!” He says it so loudly that he knows people are looking. “I’m just–ugh.” Nervous? Yeah. But it’s not like he can say that without you asking why. “Don’t mind it. I guess I slept kinda badly last night.”

“Ugh, yeah, that sucks.” Your frown eases into a smile. “But hey! No worries, I’m pretty good at home ec., so having me as your partner should help!”

Partner, Arven repeats inside his head, but says, “Yeah, guess I’ll have to count on you a little this time.”

Before you can say anything else, Mr. Saguaro enters the room, his pink shirt straining against his muscles. “Hello class,” he beams, “I hope you’re excited for today’s class. We’re going to learn how to make sweet hearts. It is a chocolate that gives Pokemon twenty HP when consumed. A fantastic way to let your Pokemon know you love them, no?”

Love, Arven thinks, before smacking his cheeks to rid himself of the thoughts.

You glance at him, whispering, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah–yeah. I’m good.” Arven pretends to give his full attention to Mr. Saguaro even though his attention is pretty firmly set on you. You look at him a bit longer, before following suit and looking at Mr. Saguaro, who has already begun to write the recipe down on the whiteboard.

“Seems pretty simple,” you note, before standing up. “I’ll get the ingredients, so stay here, okay?”

“I can–” Arven begins, but is shut up by your look. “...Okay.”

Satisfied with his answer, you stand up to get the ingredients and tools to make the sweet hearts. 

Arven watches as you leave, internally chastising himself for being so abnormal. He made you worry about him because of how oddly he was acting. Shit. Still, he can’t help but think about how sweet you are. Worried about him–he didn’t deserve it…

The thud of metal hitting the table snaps him out of his own thoughts. He looks towards you as you look down on him. “Got the stuff.”

“Thanks,” Arven responds, repositioning the cuffs of his sleeves. “Let’s get started.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you laugh, watching as Arven sets the tools out. You’d have helped, but Arven’s movements are too quick for you to interject. Instead, you glance at the board to read the instructions. “We’ve got to heat some hot water first, then put a bowl inside the pot.”

“On it.” Arven put everything in place almost robotically, showing his years and years of experience in cooking. You keep watch as he dumps the chocolate chips into the bowl, using a spoon to stir. 

“Huh. You don’t need the instructions?”

“Nah,” he responds, “I’ve done this a lot.”

“Heh.” You grin. “Your Pokemon are lucky to have you–they must be constantly well fed!”

“I’m lucky to have them,” Arven responds, tapping the spoon against the side of the bowl to get the excess chocolate off, “I was really lucky to have met you, honestly.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah–before it was just me and Mabosstiff. But now I have a full team, and I’ve got you. And the student prez and shortie too, I guess.” He mindlessly pours the chocolate batter into the heart molds, before sprinkling some berry powder on the top. His own words only begin to settle in when he realizes that you’ve been silent for a while, and he almost knocks the chocolates over. “I mean–”

“I’m grateful to you too, Arven.” You give him such a bright, earnest smile that he honestly can’t help but flush. “You’re one of the reasons why I got settled into Paldea so well, you know? Thanks for being a part of my journey.” You give a little laugh. “Maybe you’ll be willing to be a part of my next journey, too.”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Arven swallows. “Actually… speaking of adventures…”

“Hm?”

“Do you–you know. The–that is–” Arven taps the chocolate mold against the table to get rid of air bubbles. “You know.”

“Yeah?” you encourage as you melt some more chocolate over the stove.

“The dance. The one that’s coming up… I was wondering if you’d–like, do you want to go? Together? No pressure, though.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Oh!” Laughter bubbles out of you. “That’s what it was, huh?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been acting weird all class, y’know.”

“I wasn’t.”

You give him a flat look, before huffing out a laugh. “All right, fine, whatever. I’d be glad to go with you.”

Arven blinks, before his lips twitch upwards. “You mean it?”

“Of course!” you laugh. “Why wouldn’t I mean it?” 

“Yes!” he cheers, loud enough that the class looks at him. He sheepishly tacks on, “I’m so glad our sweet hearts are turning out well.”

You suppress a laugh. “Yeah, totally.”

He looks at you, before clearing his throat when your eyes meet. “...So, can I pick you up for dinner? Uh–before the dance, that is?”

You grin. “Does five work?”

He smiles back. “Five works great.”

[sugawhaaa]

Beomgyu x reader

E M O B O Y

Pairings: switch!beomgyu x switch!fem!reader

Warnings:smut...like hard core

Genre:friends to lovers, childhood friends, smut

Themes: blow job, public sex, oral sex, based off the song by Ayesha Erotica

Word count: 2,150

A/N: this actually sucks...I really don't like it. I feel like the descriptions for the spicy time sounded weird no matter how I tried to describe it? Idk let me know if you genuinely like this lol

You leaned against the wall of the bathroom in the mall as your friends gossiped. There wasn't anything too interesting going around lately but according to your friends there was a lot. You kept an ear out as your friends dolled themselves up in the mirrors. Of course when gossip is being talked about boys come up.

One of your friends, kizzy, brought up her boyfriend and added on some info you really didn't need to know about him. But your other friends seemed to enjoy this topic. It was strange to say the least, you're all from the ages 19-21 so all this sex talk is completely normal yet you always felt out of place. I mean it's not like you haven't thought of anything like that but it's still odd to talk about.

Your thoughts got interrupted as the girls started discussing their next shopping destination.

"Hey, Y/N you haven't picked a place yet! You should choose the next one," Sissy said with a smile, her shining pink lip gloss drawing attention to her lips.

"Um, I'm good. I don't really care where we go haha, we all like the same stores anyway," You said with a shrug and a complimentary smile.

"That's true…" Kizzy said as she thought to herself. "Alright so how about Spencer's? What do ya think!?" She said with a clap of her hands, it echoed throughout the (hopefully) empty bathroom.

"Oh you whore you just want to go to the back section," You commented making everyone laugh as they packed up their makeup including Kizzy.

After getting to Spencer's the girls all roamed around the store in groups of two, you were with Sissy in the LGBTQ+ section. It didn't take long for the girls to get bored and head to the store across from Spencer's, hot topic.

"So what's the deal with you and that boy," kizzy nudged you with her elbow. Of course you didn't forget that Beomgyu works there but you pretended to act dumb.

"Who?" You said widening your eyes.

"The cute boy with the long hair. He works here?" She said as we walked in.

"Oh him yeah. What about him?" You said as you automatically followed Kizzy to the anime area.

"You get closer to him?" She said with excitement on her face.

"I mean I can't really get much closer, we've been friends since first grade," you said with a shrug. Kizzy just nodded her head and sighed. That's when Sissy, Abigail and Minnie came over. They had a ton of things with them already and we'd only been there for five minutes. They were showing Kizzy everything they found when Abigail showed her a pair of strawberry earrings and a cute strawberry dress. Kizzy flipped out and asked her to show where they were. All the girls giggled off to another area, you kept browsing around when you heard an ever so familiar voice.

"Need any help Y/N?" He said with a smirk. You looked up to the source of the sound and viola Beomgyu standing over you. Today he was wearing about a thousand layers of black clothes. A my chemical romance tee, with a baggy fishnet over top of it, he also wore baggy and slightly ripped jeans. As for accessories he wore a black choked with some small spikes, a cross necklace, a skull necklace, a metal star belt, tons of rings, snake bite lip piercings, and a nose piercing. His make up was Suttle today, just some cloudy black/blue eyeshadow.

"Oh Beomgyu you scared me!" You said with a slight jump.

"I'm not that scary looking!" He said, crossing his arms and tipping his chin up. You laughed as you set your hand on his shoulder. You sighed and started stretching. All this walking around was making you tired.

"Getting too old for this already?" Beomgyu chuckled lowly.

"Hey! No. Just these girls move faster than sonic when it comes to clothes and cute boys,"

"So that's why you're all here," he said looking down at you while leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Yeah they somehow always find the cutest things here,"

"What can I say, it's in my genes," beomgyu said, flipping his hair. You laughed at him and he grinned as well. His dark bangs hung in his face as he laughed. "Anyways, do you want to sit for a minute," he said gesturing to the back of the shop.

"Yes please," you laughed. He led you to the back of the store and you sat behind the counter with this other girl who was wearing a very scene fashioned outfit. She was very kind and bubbly but you seemed to forget her. You sat awkwardly as Beomgyu and the scene girl chatted. It was quite the awkward angle, but Beomgyus Jean's did fit on him nicely. Your cheeks were red at your dirty thoughts. You patted your face trying to snap yourself out of it. You looked down at the floor and saw Beomgyu wearing some new boots.

"Gyu, are those new?" You said pointing to his shoes. He looked down and nodded.

"Yup I actually got them from here," he laughed. He then bent down to your level, looking you in the eyes. You blushed and tried to keep eye contact, he rested his arms on your bare thighs. You jumped slightly at the cold feeling of his bracelets. The look in his eyes suddenly turned you on so much causing you to reflexively rub your thighs together. Doing so secretly so Beomgyu wouldn't notice anything. "Are you alright? You seem off," he said looking up at you with lustful eyes.

"J-just hungry," you avoided his eyes. He grabbed you by the wrist and said

"Alright, I have some snacks in the back," he said looking up at the scene girl.

"It's fine your shift is almost over," she said with a wave of her hand. He took you to the very back of the shop to a door. He opened it and dragged you into the pitch black room. It was a little closet filled with some random trinkets they might need. He shut the door tightly and turned to you.

"So what do you feel like eating," he said with a smile as he turned the lights on. You looked at him suspiciously.

"Um, maybe a bite of you," you said jokingly. You laughed while Beomgyu gave you a bit of a peculiar stare. He inched closer to you as he rested his hands up aimlessly aiming for you.

"Gyu?" You said as his lustful gaze burned through you. You put your hands on his boney shoulders, the feeling of his warm body on yours. You then found your back against the wall as Beomgyu's hands were placed on the wall. Pinning you to him.

"You aren't actually hungry are you?" He said with a smirk.

"W-what?" You stuttered as your cheeks heated up. There's no way he actually figured you all out! Right?

"A minute ago you said you were hungry, but I think you actually meant to say horny," he said with a small smile. Your eyes widened before looking away from him. He just got closer to you, close enough to kiss you. His addictive scent filled your nose as his hand gently swiped some loose strands of hair behind your ear. "God you're so pretty," he said as his lips came closer to yours. Your eyes started fluttering shut while Beomgyu looked down at you. He stood there waiting for some kind of permission to kiss you.

You grabbed him by the shirt harshly and pulled him in for a rough kiss. It was messy and uncoordinated. Hands and tongues roaming heated skin. Moans and hums filled the small closet. It wasn't long before your curious hands found their way down to the zipper of Beomgyu's black jeans. You used your middle finger to rub up and down the zipper line. Beomgyus hands went up to your hair and played with it. You broke the ongoing kiss to breathe. Without any thoughts inside your head besides wanting to hear Beomgyu moan your name you went down on your knees. His hands still held onto your hair as you started undoing his jeans. Beomgyu panted above you as his hair hung in his face.

"Y/N what are you doing?" He said with a quivering voice. You pulled down his pants to see his hardened member before you.

"Getting a snack," you replied before wrapping your lips around him. He gasped before throwing his head back and covering his mouth. You slowly moved your mouth up and down his length before letting go for a quick breath. As you moved back, strings of his arousal connected with your saliva. Beomgyu looked down at the beautiful sight below him and he basically started petting you while praising you. You slipped your lips back around him and started going at a quicker pace using your spit as lube. Beomgyu bit his lip as he muffled his whines and moans.

"So good, so good," he kept whispering as you started using your hands for extra support. His moans started getting louder and more frequent as he bucked his hips into your mouth. Gyu then started speaking nonsense. A mix of "I'm so close" and "I'm gonna cum," and not surprisingly he was right. Your mouth filled with salty yet sweet and warm liquid. You choked slightly, making you cough, letting some of his cum drip from your lips. Beomgyu then fell to the floor in front of you. Shock was very present on his face along with the black strands of hair. He panted as some drool fell from the corner of his mouth.

Meanwhile you swallowed everything and started crawling over to him. You kissed him passionately as you fell to the floor. As he entertained your mouth his hands went to your ass abruptly moving his hands around. His hands traveled up to your waist before tugging and the hem of your skirt. He swiftly pulled them off as you took a breather.

"Now that I'm thinking about it," he started as he sat up straight, allowing your bare legs to rest on the floor. "I'm getting hungry myself," he said, pouncing on you, landing on the floor. He placed some hickies all down your jawline and neck. He pulled off your shirt before tracing more kisses, bites and hickies all along your body down to your tummy. He locked in between your thighs and over your still clothed pussy. You moaned and whined throughout the whole process.

"Beomgyu please, stop teasing," you whined as your hands found their way to his hair.

"Alright, you've been a very good girl," Beomgyu said, pulling down your undies. He quickly used his whole tongue across your whole entrance making you moan and squirm. He wasn't messing around when it came to giving oral, apparently. He ate you out like you were his last dessert to ever enjoy. He collected every last bit of your arousal. Beomgyu's long fingers then found their way inside you making you moan before covering your mouth. Gyu quietly hushed you before continuing to venture inside you. His fingers quickly moving around inside you to find that specific spot that'd make you scream his name. He decided to go as deep as possible into you and he found one spot that made you jolt up to him. You mumbled out "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my fucking God," a bunch as he kept hitting that same spot over and over.

You then felt your walls tighten around his slim fingers and your legs quivered. You warned Beomgyu about your high before his fingers were coated in your juices and his ears filled with loud moans. After you released everything his fingers went to his mouth, cleaning up all the mess you made on them.

"You taste so good," he moaned as he bent back down to your clit and started licking it. That's when the door burst opened.

"Alright Beomgyu get out your shifts over," the scene girl stood there not even phased by the situation at all.

"Close the door! My girlfriend doesn't want the whole world seeing her naked!" Beomgyu yelled and the girl closed the door.

"Fair. But Beomgyu if you don't get out I'll pull you out by your choker," she said outside the door before walking away to help some customers.

"Girlfriend?" You asked as you put on your clothes with Beomgyu.

"Oh um yeah," he said awkwardly as he slipped his jeans back on. "I thought since you just gave me a blowjob you'd want to be my boyfriend…" he said awkwardly as his cheeks filled with blush.

"Haha of course, babe," you said with a smile.

[wordstome]

your brain holds so many scrumptious thoughts and ideas I absolutely adore reading anything you have to say.

that being said, König and his relationship to god and religion, discuss plz

hold for a second.

I'm standing outside your house with a baseball bat, because what do you MEANNNNNN dumb shit. I won't have you speak that way about these ideas that I like so much!!!

Alright then rolls sleeves let's get into it.

To be totally honest with you, Alexander (my König) just doesn't really think about religion at all. He grew up Catholic, but his family was never really that devout, so to him being Catholic is just something he puts down when forms ask him for religious affiliation. However, since I love some good religious guilt in my men, let's crank his Catholicism up to max.

...sorry, I got distracted by the idea of König in a preacher's collar. Can you imagine a little König in a Catholic schoolboy uniform? Ahhhhhhhhh the aesthetic of Catholicism. So much better than the actual religion. Anyway, do you remember that post "this character believes himself abandoned by God?" I think that's the essence of König's relationship with God. I don't know if you guys remember, but being a kid/teen SUCKS, y'all. I can easily see König going through childhood bullying and adopting a "if God exists, he will have to answer to me" attitude. Later in life I can absolutely see this merging with his anxiety coping mechanism, which is his emphasized confidence and arrogance. I don't think he develops a god complex necessarily, but something adjacent to it. It's actually quite well described in @kaiasdevotion's fic Break My Mind, specifically in chapter 6:

"Frankly, it makes no sense to him. He's killed many, butchered plenty, and murdered countless. Most die quietly, and some die bravely. One bunch dies with honor, a fucking joke of duty they pretend to hold onto. The other bunch, however, dies praying. To a god, to a higher power, to whoever strained voices can reach. But why? Why ask for mercy? Who are you asking? God? But it's him that's holding the weapon, is it not? Is it not König who has burning metal pushed down a bleeding tongue?"

(Kaia, you're brilliant.)

König definitely thinks faith is wasted on God, but true to his upbringing and his anxiety, he has a bad, bad, sense of Catholic guilt. If he felt like a dirty old pervert jerking off to your panties before, he feels even worse about it when his Catholic guilt kicks in. He's kind of absorbed a lot of those ideals about purity and sin, but rather than him caring about his own immortal soul or whatever (he's already done enough shit to constitute being sent to hell, and honestly, sometimes he thinks he's already in hell, so who gives a shit?) he worries about tainting you. As if his own existence in proximity to yours, his unquenchable hunger for your touch will corrupt your very being. He definitely beats himself up for that, but he's also got that demon in him, so it's certainly not going to stop him if you reciprocate.

And speaking of you, I can very easily see König doing the whole Hozier thing where his lover becomes his god. He will worship you, pray to you, and devote his life to you if you let him. The Take Me to Church parallels are obvious: "The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you [...] I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies // I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife // Offer me that deathless death // good God let me give you my life" I think König eventually detaches sinfulness from sexuality, and in fact associates it with virtue. The act of pleasuring his partner is like worship. And it’s a lot more fun than Mass, that’s for sure.

That serves as our segue into Foreigner’s God. Especially observant OGs may have noticed that I used some lyrics from Foreigner’s God as the title of a chapter of Shrike, because it just fit so well. But Foreigner’s God is sooo König (honestly reminds me of @kneelingshadowsalome Fatum Nos Iungebit König)

“She moved with shameless wonder // The perfect creature rarely seen” is just the way König thinks of his lover, very reverent. “Wondering who I copy // Mustering some tender charm” I do think König can and does learn to be charming, but it’s definitely something he learns with age and experience, and it’s still easy for him to be caught off guard and become awkward again when talking to a lady. This is kind of emblematic of his insecurities regarding the way he talks to people.

“She feels no control of her body // She feels no safety in my arms” You could take this line down a very dark yandere path, but for a softer König I tend to interpret it as projecting his own anxiety onto his lover: he’s always going to be some big, (sometimes far older) pervert who doesn’t know how to act or put them at ease with words. He worries that when his lover is with him, it’s always because he’s forced them in some way, and they don’t truly like him or feel safe with him.

“I've no language left to say it // But all I do is quake to her // Breaking if I try convey it // The broken love I make to her” sort of a continuation of both of the above. He finds himself awkward and stoic and not charming at all, but he loves his partner, and he thinks the easiest way for him to convey that is making love to them. Which admittedly he tends to be good at, if not with experience then sheer dedication (his size doesn’t hurt of course).

“Screaming the name of a foreigner’s god” While of course this works for a lover who isn’t Austrian/doesn’t speak German, I think König has definitely felt like a perpetual foreigner, othered by society at several points in his life. His lover is his god. He may be unworthy of them, but he will always be devoted. That’s his own sort of religious fanaticism. It’s like this quote by John Keats, which serves as my tl;dr for this entire post tbh:

“I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion—

I have shuddered at it,

I shudder no more.

I could be martyred for my religion.

Love is my religion

and I could die for that.

I could die for you.”

and that’s Königcore as hell.

[cha-melodius]

A ship of your choice firstprince, please!

A location—(Although I dare someone to send the White House or Kensington, I WILL make it into an AU. I have ideas.) Also if you want a particular historical setting, you can feel free to include a time period too. GO NUTS, please.

Well sheesh, with that kind of tease, I suggest both the White House and Kensington Palace, circa the year 2068.

I look forward to seeing what you choose to do with this! I am certain to enjoy it, whatever it is ❤️

(This was such an intriguing prompt, and I hope you enjoy what I did with it. Also happiest of birthdays to @dumbpeachjuice, who's incredible fic "make me your god" inspired this one.)

The Impossible Soul

(M, 7.2k, read it below or on AO3)

“I shouldn’t let you do this for me,” Henry tells him in the moments before.

“You should know by now that you’re not letting me do anything, sweetheart,” Alex returns. “Anyway, I’m doing this for us.”

“Even though we still won’t be able to be together?”

“I told you, it’s only temporary. Once my mom’s no longer in office, I won’t be in the spotlight. But I can’t leave you trapped here for another four years. I won’t.” Alex cups Henry’s cheek with his hand and brushes a thumb against the corner of his perfect mouth. “Besides, what if I left you here and you forgot about me?”

Henry covers Alex’s hand with his, warm and soft. “Never.”

~~~~~

One Year Earlier

Alex didn’t think he could be surprised by AIDEs at this point, but the ones populating Kensington are really something else.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here,” Prince Henry says, his blue eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he shakes Alex’s hand.

Alex can’t help but stare. The eyes are the hardest part, or so Nora says. All the Secret Service agents’ eyes have a kind of strange metallic glint behind them. Often it’s not even noticeable, but if you look too closely, it becomes obvious. Prince Henry’s eyes are flawless, though. Just endless, perfect blue. Really, the only flaw Alex can see in this model is that they made him inhumanly beautiful. No real person has lips like that.

Henry’s hand is warm in his, his grip firm but not too tight. Alex forces himself to let go.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, looking around rather than staying trapped in Henry’s piercing gaze.

Palace servants flit about, attending to all of the gala guests’ needs along with those of the princes and princess. Apparently, it’s a perfect recreation of the palace’s operations from the turn of the century, back before the monarchy was abolished. Now they just keep fake royalty here, like they can’t quite let go of the idea. Alex has never understood it, and visiting hasn’t really helped. Of all the things he’s had to do on this goodwill trip, this is by far the strangest, pretending to hobnob with royalty at a fancy ball like anyone does this shit anymore. Then again, maybe showing off is the whole point, same as it ever was.

It’s not like Alex isn’t used to interacting with AIDEs. The use of Artificially Intelligent Dynamic Entities is still limited more broadly, but they’re common in dangerous or sensitive jobs. The entire Secret Service was replaced by them two administrations ago; their loyalty is never in question, nor their willingness to protect their charges at all costs. Use of AIDEs for entertainment purposes is growing in popularity too, like the Kensington ones. They play the role they’re programmed to without deviation, they don’t need to eat or sleep (though they usually do, to better mimic humanity), they can be abused or even killed without repercussion and, most importantly, they don’t need to be paid.

“I hope your visit to London has been pleasant?” Prince Henry asks with perfectly-tuned amiability. It makes Alex want to push a little, though he knows Nora would tell him it’s a futile exercise.

“Mostly I’ve been spending it in lots of meetings,” Alex says. “Kinda wish I had time to go out and see more of the city.”

“I can understand that,” Henry replies, glancing toward the doors in a way that Alex would call wistful if he didn’t know better.

Can he? Do they let them leave the palace? Probably not. Does Henry want to, though? That would be a weird thing to program into an AIDE that’s supposed to stay in one place.

“I guess you probably don’t get out much, huh?” Alex asks.

Henry smiles indulgently at his bad joke. “Not so much, no. Makes it ever-so-difficult to meet people, you know.”

Alex laughs despite himself. He’s never met an AIDE that was so self-aware. If he tries to joke with Cash about taking a day off, the agent just stares at Alex blankly. “You must talk with a lot of visitors to the palace, though.”

“I do,” Henry allows, taking a sip of his champagne. “Most of them aren’t very interesting, though. All they do is ask what it’s like to be a prince.”

“And? What’s it like?”

Henry smirks a little. “Bloody boring. Not that I can tell them that, you understand.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, a little lost for words. Henry is nothing like what he was expecting. “So, what do you want to talk about, then?”

In response, Henry takes a step closer. He smells like fancy cologne, like linens and fresh grass, and something inside him seems to tug Alex closer. “Can I show you something? Still inside the palace, of course.”

Alex’s eyes flick over to June and Nora, chatting with someone he doesn’t recognize—AIDE or government official, he can’t tell—and the Secret Service agents linger at the periphery of the ballroom. He knows shouldn’t leave the event, but honestly chances are no one would notice he was gone. Plus, his curiosity is through the roof.

Henry takes him to a library. There are barricades set up to keep the visiting public to certain areas, but Henry slips past them and Alex follows him. Watches as Henry walks down the rows with a small, private smile curving his lips, trailing a finger along the spines. He pauses and plucks a book off the shelf—Pride and Prejudice, Alex can just make out—and smooths a hand lovingly over the cover.

“I love to read,” Henry says, almost to himself. His eyes flick up to Alex’s, shining brightly in the low light. “All those worlds… They’re incredible, don’t you think?”

Alex doesn’t know what to say. AIDEs don’t read. They don’t dream of other worlds.

“The rest of your… family,” Alex says, diplomatically. “Are they like you? I mean, with the reading.”

Henry laughs quietly and shakes his head. “No. No one’s like me.”

Alex is rapidly coming to that same conclusion.

~~~~~

“There’s nothing special about the Kensington AIDEs,” Nora tells him, sounding more beleaguered than necessary. “We talked to Princess Beatrice for like an hour, it was the same as any other AIDE. Pleasant, but a little vacant. The eyes are a neat trick, though.”

“I’m telling you, Henry is different,” Alex insists. “We talked all night. He’s aware of what he is. He reads and he thinks and he feels. Fuck, Nora, he dreams when he sleeps.”

“AIDEs don’t sleep. Not really.”

“Henry does.”

“Someone just got a little creative with the programming,” Nora says dismissively. “He’s supposed to say those things to make him seem more real. If you went back, he probably wouldn’t even remember you.”

“And what if he did?”

“Alex—”

“What if he did remember me? What if all of it really is real?” Alex presses.

Nora frowns at him. “Then there are some major ethical implications that current AI laws are frankly not prepared to deal with,” she says bluntly. “Look, it’s just not possible. They don’t have feelings, period. He’s just a fancy computer.”

“Fine. Whatever you say,” Alex huffs, mostly because he doesn’t want to have this argument anymore. She’s not going to change his mind, and clearly he’s not going to change hers.

“Promise me you’ll leave this alone. We can’t afford some kind of diplomatic incident because you got a crush on the prince AIDE.”

Alex glares at her. It’s not a crush. “I’ll leave it.”

He absolutely will not.

~~~~~

Cash doesn’t blink—literally—when Alex tells him that he’ll be visiting Kensington Palace again rather than the scheduled afternoon tea with some MP he couldn’t care less about. He sends his apologies with an excuse that he’s not feeling well and heads to the main entrance with the rest of the tourists. He has no idea where Henry might be, but AIDEs don’t take days off, so it stands to reason that he’ll be somewhere acting princely, or whatever he does all day.

Unfortunately, he gets stuck on a tour led by an AIDE with a dirty blonde bob and green eyes who most definitely shows none of Henry’s spark. It’s boring as fuck, and he almost bails more than once, but this place is huge and he’d probably get lost forever before he found Henry. They go past a few rooms Alex recognizes, but there’s no sign of the ‘royal family’ anywhere, and Alex starts to worry. Maybe they only trot them out for big events. Maybe you have to buy a special tour package. Ugh, his mom is going to kill him if he ditches any more events.

“Next, we’ll visit the palace library,” the guide says, and Alex perks up.

This has got to be his chance. Henry had said they were basically allowed free run of the palace so long as they remained in areas where they’d run into visitors during operating hours, and Alex knows there’s nowhere Henry would rather be than the library. Sure enough, he’s reading in a massive armchair by one of the windows, though he gets up when the tour group enters and comes over to talk to them. His face is fixed in a pleasant, bland smile as he looks over the group, until his eyes land on Alex. The flash of recognition is clear, even if he recovers quickly, and Alex’s heart thuds a little harder in his chest.

He lingers toward the back as the rest of the visitors ask Henry about living in the palace and being a prince—exactly as he said they would. He answers graciously, of course, the words so bland and scripted that Alex almost wonders if maybe he hadn’t been drinking too much champagne during the gala. But he hangs back when everyone else files out, and as soon as Henry turns to him, his eyes practically light up.

“You came back,” Henry says, his voice soft with something like wonder.

“Of course I did,” Alex replies. “We didn’t finish our conversation.”

Henry ducks his head, blond hair falling alluringly over his forehead as his cheeks turn pink. The way their bodies mimic human physiology is astounding sometimes. “I suppose we didn’t. Would you care to walk with me in the gardens? It’s a lovely day.”

“Can we do that?”

“Ironically, you’re allowed so long as you have one of us with you, and I’m allowed so long as I’m with a guest,” Henry explains. “Plus, you’re a foreign dignitary. No one will bother us.”

“Sure you wanna be seen with me? My sister would say I’m the furthest thing from dignified,” Alex says, grinning probably a little too broadly.

Henry’s smile slants mischievous as he steps close enough for Alex to get a noseful of linen and fresh grass again. “Maybe I like that about you.”

~~~~

“Have you ever been outside the palace?” Alex asks on his next visit. Nora had given him a look like she knew exactly what he’s been up to when he’d begged off from an official tour of the British Museum, even though he hasn’t brought up Henry again. The fact that she’d found him down a rabbit hole of academic papers about AIDE psychology probably hadn’t helped anything.

“Not that I remember,” Henry answers. It’s rainy today, so they’re ensconced in some kind of parlor with ornate, uncomfortable furniture. The fact that Henry only knows this life is outrageous. Has he ever truly been comfortable? Does anyone even care? “They gave me a basic knowledge of London as a background. I’m supposed to be fond of the Victoria & Albert Museum, but I’ve never seen it myself.”

“That’s fucked up,” Alex blurts.

Henry shrugs. “It’s just how it is.”

“How does none of this ever seem to bother you?”

“It can’t bother me, Alex. My entire existence has been—and will be—only this, and if I allowed any of it to bother me, I’d go mad.”

This does not, in fact, make Alex feel any better about the situation. “Guess I’ll just have to be angry for the both of us, then.”

“I’d rather you weren’t,” Henry says mildly. “It’s no use being upset about my life. Nothing can be changed.”

“Bad idea to tell me something can’t be changed, sweetheart. I fucking love a challenge,” Alex returns. He’s not joking, but Henry laughs anyway. “I’m serious, Henry. You deserve to get things you want, too.”

“What if I said I wanted you not to worry about it? That I want you to be happy?”

“Because you’re programmed to?” Alex counters, letting more bitterness than he means to slip into his voice.

Henry reaches out and slides a hand over Alex’s fist where it’s curled on his thigh. “Because I like you, Alex.”

~~~~

On the last visit he can manage before he leaves London, Alex brings Henry a cell phone.

“What’s this for?” Henry asks when Alex hands it to him. It’s a cheap smartphone, pay as you go, something that Alex can renew the data and minutes on remotely.

Alex frowns at him. He would have figured Henry would be familiar with the concept of phones, but maybe they purposefully programmed him to not recognize it. “It’s for communication. Audio, text, video—”

“I know what a phone is, Alex,” Henry says wryly, interrupting him before Alex can make a fool of himself. “I mean why are you giving it to me?”

“I’d like to keep talking to you after I go home,” Alex tells him, feeling oddly exposed by the question. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

Henry smiles, almost bashfully. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“I assume you’re not allowed to have that,” Alex says with a nod at the phone.

“I don’t think anyone would consider it a possibility that we might,” Henry muses, “but I’ll keep it hidden nonetheless.”

“Good plan.”

“I’m going to miss your visits, Alex,” Henry says earnestly. “I’ll miss you.”

AIDEs can’t miss things, Alex’s brain supplies, an oft-repeated truism. He feels vaguely sick, leaving Henry here like this.

“Yeah,” Alex croaks, unable to quite meet Henry’s bright blue eyes. “I’ll miss you too.”

~~~~~

“How would you get a site-locked AIDE off the premises?” Alex casually asks Nora one late night at the Residence, when they’re deep in the weeds of polls and projections.

The campaign has been rough; rougher than the first one. Or maybe it’s just that Alex is far more involved in the filthy underbelly of it this time around. The experience has definitely made him question his resolve to go into politics. Then again, sometimes it feels like his only option to make a difference in the way he wants to. These days he frequently gets into arguments about the need for more protections for AIDEs, though right now it feels like a losing battle. They’re not supposed to need protections, that’s the point of them, and no one believes him when he suggests that they might have more in common with humans than previously believed.

It’s been months. Months of texting, and phone calls, and occasional video chats. Months of getting to know Henry—the real him, beyond his programmed backstory. For his part, Henry has seemingly blossomed further with access to the internet. Alex was admittedly not certain that was a great idea, but Henry seems to stay off the darker parts. He watches a lot of Bake Off, apparently. He’s obsessed with some cute beagle account on Instagram. He reads travel blogs and insists that just knowing that these wonderful places exist is enough for him.

Alex doesn’t believe him. Well, he believes Henry believes that, but that doesn’t stop Alex from yearning to show Henry some of them in person. Even something in London would be worth it. Hence, the question.

Nora looks at him like she knows exactly what he’s on about. He’s kept his correspondence with Henry a secret from everyone, but he’s pretty sure she suspects something is up. Him broaching this topic all but confirms that, but he needs the help.

“Permanently, or short-term?” she asks.

“Let’s go with short-term to start.”

Another capital-L Look. “Well,” she says eventually, “I would probably hack into the control system and override the barrier protocols. These systems are self-healing, though. You’d have a couple of hours at most.”

“And what happens if the AIDE was off-site when the system kicked back on?” Alex asks.

“Depends on the program. Possibly just an alarm or something. Most of the time it’s full deactivation though.”

“They kill them?”

“AIDEs aren’t alive, Alejandro,” Nora says pointedly. Alex bites his tongue. “But yes, in a manner of speaking.”

“Fuck,” Alex breathes, wiping his hands over his face. “And to permanently get him out?”

It’s a slip. He’s not dumb enough to think she missed it, though she doesn’t show it.

“Not entirely sure,” she admits. “I’d need one of the tablets they use to control them so I could go into the AIDE’s code. And good luck with that; the companies that make them have some of the tightest security out there.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She turns back to her laptop, and Alex half-expects the conversation is done, at least for now. But then, as she’s typing, she says, “I assume this isn’t idle curiosity.”

Alex sighs. “No.”

~~~~~

It takes nine months from their first meeting for Alex to find a reason to visit London. His mother offhandedly mentions sending someone to some conference he doesn’t really care about, and he jumps at the chance. All he can think about is Henry. Being in the same city as him again. Seeing him. Touching him.

Alex has had time to come to terms with his desire for Henry. Honestly, the bisexuality was easy compared to the AIDE aspect of it. Nora is fond of pointing out that they’re literally designed to be desirable, even the ones not populating what basically pass for sexy amusement parks, but Alex doesn’t just want Henry physically. He wants to spend time with him, to make him laugh and see the crinkle of his eyes not through a phone screen.

Frankly, he also wouldn’t mind a little clarity on the whole situation. To either get incontrovertible proof that Henry is fundamentally the same as a person, or else be reminded that he isn’t, that Alex has deluded himself into believing Henry was more than a machine (a possibility that Nora regularly reminds him of).

On the flight over, Alex finds himself watching Cash, not for the first time. He’s doing a sudoku puzzle, which can’t really be much of a challenge for him. Still, he works on them religiously. Did someone program that into him? Or does Cash actually enjoy doing them?

“Do you like your job, Cash?” Alex asks.

Cash looks up at him, setting his ballpoint pen down—he does the puzzles in pen because he never makes a mistake. He’s got an expression on like he doesn’t really understand Alex’s question, even though it should be straightforward. “It’s my job,” he finally says.

“Yeah, but do you like it?” Alex pushes. “Do you find it fulfilling?”

The tip of his head means Cash is analyzing Alex’s body language. After another moment, he says, “Yes.”

Alex can’t quite hold back a sigh. The answer is predictable. Cash is only saying that because he thinks Alex wants to hear it. That’s what AIDEs do, they anticipate your needs and wants.

“Is that not the right answer?” Cash asks, frowning.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex says.

He knows Cash won’t.

~~~~~

Henry is understandably nervous about the plan. It is, after all, his life on the line.

“The control system will go down at the very end of the visiting day, so we can slip out with the exiting crowds,” Alex tells him. “It’s gonna look like maintenance, which shouldn’t set off any red flags right away. Between that and the roadblocks Nora’s set up, we should have five hours.”

“For what?” Henry asks.

Alex just grins. “It’s a surprise, sweetheart.”

Henry looks even more human in Alex’s Longhorns baseball cap and hoodie. Soft. Dangerously so. It makes Alex want to do reckless things. Instead, he sets his watch for four and a half hours and reminds himself how high the stakes are. He’s arranged everything just so tonight. No surprises.

The escape goes off without a hitch, and Alex breathes a sigh of relief once they’re making their way through the crowded city streets. Out here, the two of them are completely unremarkable, even with Cash trailing a few steps behind them. Henry seems to take it all in stride, though Alex doesn’t miss the quiet looks of awe that steal over his face as he takes in the city. They stop and get falafel at a food truck. Henry asks to pet every dog they come across. He looks indescribably happy in a way that makes Alex’s heart clench in his chest.

At the back entrance to the museum, Alex pays off the night guard—not an AIDE, thank god, they’re nearly impossible to bribe—and they slip inside, leaving Cash by the door. It doesn’t take long for Henry to catch on.

“You brought me to the V&A,” Henry breathes as he looks around.

It had seemed like the obvious choice, after what Henry had told him. “I’ve never actually been here,” Alex admits.

“That’s all right, love,” Henry says, grinning now. “I know my way around.”

Alex has never been so enraptured by someone telling him about art, but it’s impossible not to be taken in by the passion with which Henry speaks about the sculptures. He tells Alex about Tipu’s Tiger, about Giambologna, about Narcissus and Zephyr and Pluto rendered exquisitely in marble. His programming hadn’t bothered to give him anything more than a general interest; all of Henry’s knowledge comes from reading in the palace library—and now on the phone Alex gave him—and he’s apparently done a lot of it. His programming also has nothing to do with the wonder and emotion in his voice, with the tears that glitter in his eyes when he gets overwhelmed by the experience.

Machines don’t cry over art. They just don’t. Art is supposed to be a fundamentally human experience, which is proof enough to Alex that, whatever he was designed as, Henry is just as human as Alex is now.

~~~~~

In the Santa Chiara chapel, Henry finally pauses and turns his awe on Alex.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmurs, closing the space between them until only inches remain. Alex has to tip his head up to meet Henry’s bright gaze, and his heart thuds hard in his chest. “You risked so much to give this moment to me. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You deserve it,” Alex tells him, meaning every word of it. “You deserve the entire world.”

“Alex,” Henry breathes.

Alex doesn’t think; he leans up and presses their lips together, a fleeting thing, over before he can convince himself it was a mistake. Except it was, because now he knows the softness of Henry’s lips against his, and he’ll never be satisfied with anything else. Henry’s eyes are wide when he pulls back, his lips slightly parted, and all at once Alex curses his impulsivity. What if Henry thinks that’s what he wants in return, that he owes Alex part of himself for this, when the last thing Alex wants is to take advantage of his programmed desire to please?

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

But Henry presses a hand against his face and pulls him in again, slides their lips together with intention, leaves Alex breathless when he pulls away again.

“You don’t have to do that,” Alex breathes into the silence afterward. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I want to,” Henry says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I want you, Alex.”

“You’re not just saying that because you think I want you to?”

Henry laughs a little, shaking his head. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he confesses. “I can assure you, that wasn’t programmed. And neither is this.”

This time, when Henry kisses him, Alex can’t help but smile into it.

~~~~~

They go off-plan. There are two hours left when Alex takes Henry back to his hotel room and presses him back into the bed. Peels away their clothes and kisses across warm skin that feels no different from his own under his lips. Henry gasps and twitches under him as Alex takes him in hand; for an AIDE that was only supposed to staff a museum, whoever designed him really went all out on the anatomy.

“Have you ever done this?” Alex murmurs into the crease of his hip, breathing in the scent of him. Linen and fresh grass and something else, musky and heady.

Henry shakes his head, and relief floods through Alex. It isn’t some virginity kink, ok? He’s just heard stories of how some people treat AIDEs no matter what their jobs are, like they’re free for the taking because they never say no, and he’s glad Henry’s never been in that situation.

“And you’re sure you want to with me?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Henry nearly growls. He drags Alex up from between his legs and kisses him hard, then rolls them over so he’s on top, straddling Alex’s waist. Slides back until Alex’s cock is pressing into the cleft of his ass and rocks his hips in a way that makes them both moan. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Alex is pretty sure he sees God when Henry lowers himself onto his cock, sitting upright with one hand behind him gripping Alex’s thigh and the other splayed over Alex’s chest. Or maybe it’s just that Henry looks like a god, like one of the mythical marble sculptures in the V&A, muscles rippling beneath his skin, but warm and yielding and vibrant and alive.

You’re unreal, Alex almost says, but that’s not quite it. Henry like this is very, very real. Impossible might be a better word.

Henry is impossible, and Alex is impossibly in love with him.

~~~~~

“Do you think you could steal one of the tablets they use to access your code?” Alex asks as they lie together in the darkness. His ear is pressed to Henry’s chest, listening to the steady thud of his circulatory pump—not quite a heart, but not not one either.

Henry’s hand cards through his hair, idly twirling Alex’s curls around his fingers. “What are you planning, love?”

Alex tips his face up to look at him. “Can you?”

“I doubt I can,” Henry answers after a pause, “but the technician responsible for us… he may be willing to help.”

“And you trust him?”

“He’s protected me before. I think he knows about my… differences.”

Alex hums. “How do we contact him?”

~~~~~

What Shaan Srivastava is not willing to do is speak over any sort of electronic form of communication, which Alex honestly takes as a good sign. They meet in a cafe on the other side of London, the day before Alex is set to leave.

“I want to get him out,” Alex tells him plainly. “For good.”

“Mountchristen Technologies puts numerous failsafes into the AIDEs they build,” Shaan tells him. “Trackers. Latent viruses. Kill switches.”

“Can they be disabled?”

Shaan takes a sip of his tea. “I have an idea, but I have no way of implementing it. I’m just responsible for keeping them in good working order. I’m not a coder.”

The hope that flares up in Alex’s chest is dangerous but oh-so-seductive. “I think I know someone who could help with that.”

~~~~~

“This is insane,” Nora tells him. “You honestly think it’s a good idea to pull off some kind of heist from the world’s biggest tech company a month before the election?”

“No,” Alex says reasonably. “That’s why we’re waiting until after. I convinced mom to let me take a trip to London between New Years and the inauguration.”

Nora shakes her head, every movement like a knife in Alex’s gut. “I can’t do this. I won’t. I never should have helped you on that little excursion in the first place, but this is a whole ‘nother level. We could both go to jail for who knows how long. And for what? Because you fucked an AIDE and now you want him for yourself?”

“Fuck you,” Alex nearly shouts. “I love him, asshole! I can’t let him stay a— a slave in that fucking palace.”

“He’s a machine! That’s what he was designed for, Alex!”

“Maybe he was, but that doesn’t mean that’s what he is now,” Alex insists. He holds out the tablet that she has yet to take from him. “Just look at his code. Even I can tell it isn’t like anything else out there.”

Finally, she snatches the tablet from him and jabs at it a few times. Her frown gets deeper. “There’s something wrong with this tablet,” she says eventually. “It’s not displaying things properly.”

“It is.”

“It can’t be, this level of complexity is impossible—”

“He’s writing his own fucking code, Nora,” Alex interrupts. Shaan had explained his theory on Henry’s code as best he was able before Alex left London. “With every one of the choices he was never supposed to be able to make. That’s why it looks like that.”

Heavy silence stretches between them as Nora stares at the tablet, occasionally swiping around and tapping. She chews on her lip. “It shouldn’t be possible,” she mutters, half to herself.

“But it is. He is. Please, Nora,” Alex pleads, not caring how desperate he sounds. “I’ll do anything.”

“Yeah, well. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

~~~~~

“You need to understand that the changes to his code means that accessing the safeguards is much more difficult.”

“Ok.”

“And I can’t guarantee that this will work. We can’t test it out. Once we shut him down, there’s no way to know exactly what will happen when we boot him back up again. He might come back the same as he is now, but he also might undergo some kind of reset. Even if he retains his free will, he might not remember his life before. He might not remember you.”

Alex swallows hard. “I understand.”

“Does he?”

~~~~~

It takes Alex a month to work up the nerve to broach the topic with Henry. On video call not long after the election, he explains Nora’s plan, how they need to do a full shutdown so she can extract the safeguards like a surgeon. He makes himself explain the risks even though his first impulse is to downplay them. Henry deserves to know, deserves to make the decision for himself. Alex would be a huge fucking hypocrite to take that away from him.

That doesn’t mean he’s required to like Henry’s reaction, though.

“It’s too much risk,” Henry says, a stubborn look on his face that Alex is very familiar with by now. “Things are fine now.”

“They’re really not,” Alex argues. “You’re no better than a prisoner there, Henry. Your freedom is worth the risk.”

“It’s not.”

“Of course it fucking is!” Alex snaps, rapidly becoming frustrated by this argument.

“Not when it could mean losing you!” Henry bites out. He presses his lips together and looks away from the camera, but Alex can see the tears shining in his eyes. “My memories of you—of the museum, of us,” he says eventually, his voice unsteady, “are the only things I have that are truly mine. And you tell me I could lose them… I can’t do it. I’d rather stay here forever.”

“Don’t you understand?” Alex pleads. He wants to reach through the screen and grab him, turn his face and make Henry look at him. “I’m trying to give you the world, baby.”

“I don’t want the world,” Henry says miserably. “Please, Alex. It’s better this way. You may think this is worth it now, but one day you’ll change your mind when you realize that having a secret AIDE lover isn’t exactly compatible with a political career. You’ll want to be with a real person. Someone whose affection you can be certain isn’t just programming. Just… leave me here with my memories.”

Then Henry hangs up on him.

~~~~~

Henry doesn’t answer his calls or reply to his texts, and Alex couldn’t be more miserable. He doesn’t eat and sleeps only fitfully, which confuses his family. Everyone’s still riding a high from winning the election. They think Alex is seriously ill and try to bring in a doctor, but nothing’s physically wrong with him. He can’t tell them he’s suffering from a broken heart like some pining Victorian maiden.

On the fifth day, Nora comes storming into his bedroom in the White House and throws a duffle bag at his chest.

“Pack your shit, we’re going to London,” she says bluntly. “Also take a shower. You reek.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s Henry.” She waves the tablet in the air, which is still linked to Henry’s code in real time. “Someone’s trying to make changes to his code.”

Alex flops back down onto his bed and stares at the ceiling. “It’s probably just him deciding he’s done with me.”

“God, you’re pathetic,” she huffs, now rummaging through his dresser. “It’s not him. Looks like someone else is poking around, and that can’t be a good thing.”

That’s enough to make him rocket straight out of bed, an icy spike of dread shooting down his spine. “Have you gotten in contact with Shaan?”

Nora shakes her head. “No. He’s radio silent.”

“Fuck.”

“I booked us tickets with your credit card on a flight that leaves in two hours, so hurry the fuck up.”

“Nora, is he—” Alex starts before his voice clips off as his throat closes. He forces out, “Can you tell… is he ok?”

Her expression softens, and she puts a hand on his forearm and squeezes. “For now.”

~~~~~

The good thing about Kensington being a museum is that no one can stop him from just buying a ticket and going in. He’s been here enough times to know his way to the library, at least, which is where he goes first, barely aware that Nora’s following hot on his heels. All he can think about is Henry.

Henry’s not in the library, though, nor in any of the surrounding rooms. Alex stops a palace attendant and asks for directions to Prince Henry’s apartments, which she helpfully provides. It’s a part of the palace that’s not on any tours, but that doesn’t seem to matter. A palace attendant’s directive to be helpful to humans is off the charts, even for an AIDE.

Somehow he’s not expecting Shaan to answer the door when he knocks. Alex immediately shoulders his way into the room, anger and fear an unholy cocktail in his veins.

“Where is he? What going on here?” he demands, frantically looking around. “Henry, baby, where are you?”

“Mr. Claremont-Diaz—”

“Henry!” There’s no answer, and Alex rounds on Shaan again. “Are you doing this to him?”

Shaan sighs, and it forces Alex to look closer, to take in the bags under his eyes and the grim set to his face. “I told you, I’m not a coder, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. I have, however, been doing my best to slow their progress.”

“What’s happening?” Alex demands.

“Someone higher in the company noticed Henry’s unusual code. I’m not sure how. A standard review of the AIDEs in the palace, I suppose. Or your trip out of Kensington was less secret than you hoped.”

Fuck. None of that is good. Alex scrubs a hand over his face, forces himself to take steady breaths and not descend into a panic attack. “Ok, ok. Is he all right?”

“Alex?”

Alex’s head whips around so fast he nearly strains his neck. Henry’s standing in the doorway, dressed in his usual slacks and button-down with a blue v-neck sweater over it. He looks… normal, and Alex nearly sobs in relief.

“Baby,” he breathes, practically throwing himself across the room and into Henry’s arms. He buries his face in Henry’s neck and breathes deeply, and the barbed wire wrapped tightly around his heart loosens a little.

“What are you doing here?” Henry asks, his strong arms wrapping automatically around Alex’s body.

Alex yanks his head back and looks askance at Shaan. “Does he not know?” He stares up at Henry. “Your code is under attack.”

“Ah, yes,” Henry says carefully. “It’s not the first time.”

“This has happened to you before?” Nora asks, and Henry looks at her in shock, like he hadn’t realized she was in the room.

“You must be Nora,” he surmises. “Yes, it has. I might have thought you’d have noticed the effects in my code.”

A look of understanding dawns over Nora’s face, and she nods. “They’re like scars. Fuck. How many times?”

“It’s not important,” Henry says in a way that suggests he’s been doing this for a long time. “The main point is that I can handle them.”

“Fuck that,” Alex spits out. “I’m not letting them scar you anymore.”

Henry closes his eyes and sighs wearily as he extracts himself from Alex’s grip. “Alex, love, you shouldn’t be here—”

“No, you listen, asshole,” Alex snaps, his terror giving way to fury. “You can’t fucking hang up on me this time.”

“I told you my decision, Alex—”

“And what about what I want? Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“Fine,” Henry says shortly, his own temper flaring. “You know as well as I that we can’t be together as long as your mother’s in office and the public’s eyes are on you. So if you still want me in four years, come back and we’ll talk then. You know where I’ll be.”

He says it with a humorless slant to his lips that’s probably supposed to pass as a wry grin, like it’s a joke. Alex wants to fucking scream.

“And let them keep on trying to chip away at what makes you you? Take the chance that they’ll just get rid of you?” he retorts instead. “Fat fucking chance! I’m not leaving the man I love in captivity for four fucking years!”

It takes Henry’s eyes going wide and his mouth falling open for Alex to realize what he’s said. “Alex, you can’t—”

“What, love you? Because I do,” Alex says defiantly. “And I think you love me too.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you AIDEs can’t love?” Henry says, his voice wavering as he stares at the floor.

Alex steps close, forcing Henry to look up at him, until their noses are almost brushing. “Yeah, well, I know better,” he says, low and heated. “I also know I’m not gonna want anyone else, ‘real person’ or not. You’re a real person to me, Henry, and that’s what matters.” He raises a hand to Henry’s cheek and swipes his thumb through the tear track streaking it. “You’re it for me, sweetheart. I’m never gonna love anyone like I love you, and no one can take that away. Plus,” he adds, for the first time letting a corner of his mouth tug upward, “you know how annoyingly persistent I am. If you forget me, I’ll just make you fall in love with me all over again.”

Henry lets out a wet laugh and covers Alex’s hand with his. “It won’t take long.”

~~~~~

Seeing Henry shut down is wrong. He doesn’t even look dead, he just looks… not there. There’s no light in his eyes. Alex hates it. Can’t make himself watch as Nora works furiously.

It takes longer than he expected, but eventually she takes a deep breath and mutters, “Here goes nothing,” then taps a big green button on the tablet.

Henry’s eyelashes flutter as he wakes up. He looks around the room, eyes landing in turn on Shaan, Nora, and Alex. He holds Alex’s gaze and Alex stares back as if he could make Henry remember him through sheer force of will.

“Hello,” Henry says pleasantly. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

~~~~~

Five Years Later

Alex stands at the end of the long driveway that leads to a small bungalow by the sea on a tiny island in the middle of the Caribbean. He’s got a bouquet of flowers clutched in one hand, which feels silly now. Maybe this was a mistake.

He’s kept tabs on Henry and his life after leaving Kensington. From what he can tell, Henry seems happy. He visits the markets and restaurants, knows the locals, and spends lots of time writing. He’s never taken a lover, but Alex doesn’t let himself believe that’s because of him.

It seemed easier, if they were going to have to be apart, to not fill Henry in on their history at first. At least one of them could weather the years without heartache. Alex threw himself into law school, letting nothing distract him. Graduated at the top of his class, got the job of his dreams working for a firm specializing in civil rights litigation, one of the few considering cases related to AIDE protections. He lives a pretty quiet life. No one really cares about what the former FSOTUS is up to these days. And now he’s here, half a decade later, with little more than hope.

Hope, and a wilting bouquet of flowers.

In his darker moments, he’s wondered if it wouldn’t be kinder to Henry to leave him be. Let him live his life. After all, Alex will get old and die, and Henry… won’t. No one really knows how AIDEs might break down over time—their organic-based bodies must, eventually—but their lifespans will surely be much longer than a human’s. In that context, coming back and hoping Henry will fall in love with him again seems nothing but selfish.

Still, he made a promise, and he owes it to Henry to tell him, if nothing else. Maybe Henry will decide that he’s happy as he is, that he doesn’t want the eventual heartache. He owes it to Henry to let him choose.

The gravel of Henry’s driveway crunches loudly under his shoes as he walks toward the bungalow, announcing his arrival as well as any doorbell. When he gets closer, he catches sight of Henry sitting on the porch that faces the beach, a notebook on his lap and a drink on the table next to him. They’d dyed his hair brown after fleeing Kensington, and brown it has remained. He’s still as pale as ever, though; AIDEs don’t tan or get sunburned.

He doesn’t turn at the sound of Alex’s approach, just stares fixedly out at the ocean until Alex stops at the bottom of the two steps that lead up to the porch. Alex’s heart is in his throat when Henry finally gets up and walks to the top of the steps. The smile on his face is warm, fond. Nothing like what he’d left Alex with when they’d parted.

It shouldn’t be possible… but then again, Henry is the very embodiment of the impossible.

He holds out his hand, and Alex climbs up to take it, letting Henry pull him in.

“Hello, love,” Henry says, raising a warm hand to his cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you.”