#him. uh. ... okay gimme a minute. i got this.

[transgender-catboy]

I am here to say something inappropriate in the tags.

and then go the fuck to bed.

[rafeysdoll]

can u pls write bsf!rafe x reader who comforts her after her bf broke up w herrr💞

ohhh i love this. he most definitely would be giggling inside his head.. thank u for requesting i hope u enjoy hun

“j-jus don’t understand why he’d just break up with me rafey.” you cry on his shoulder, tears streaming down your pitiful face. “i-i thought everything was going fine with us!” you whine, stepping back to look up at rafe through wet, wispy lashes. “i thought he liked me!”

he’d just lick his lip, looking off into the space— pretending to think real hard. “god, i.. i don’t know baby. really don’t know. he was just stupid, nothing to do with you.” he comforts, lying straight through his teeth.

of course he knew why— he had gone and visited at his house, threatening your little boyfriend that if he didn’t break up with you soon, he’d kill him.

“i-i dunno what to do, rafey.” you continue, going back to burying your flushed face in his chest, rafe accepting you with open arms, rubbing his hands only on the sides of your shoulders. you whine, needing more comfort than that. “gimme a hug please, need it.” you request, voice cracking.

“course doll, anything for you.” he whispers, now wrapping his arms around you completely, closing his eyes and imagining this was a different situation. one where you were already his.

“y’know.. i’d never hurt you like that baby.. rafey’s always here for you.. isn’t he? i never ever leave you hanging, always taking care of you, right?” he says, planting the little seeds in your mind.

you sniffle, nodding— a soft smile tugging on your lips.

you loved rafe dearly, and you loved when he took care of you. loved how you could always count on him. “mhm, that’s why you’re my best friend.” you remind him, as if it isn’t constantly taunting him every second of his day.

he clenches his fist, irritation running through his body. he almost wants to lash out, frustrated at how long the process of you becoming his is taking, even with that fuckass gone. he secretly hoped somehow that straight after your breakup, you’d realize rafe was the one for you. but he takes a deep breath, nostrils flared before nodding.

ever the proactive man, he quickly thought of a way to make the best of his situation. “b-best friend, uh.. yeah.” he chuckles.

“you’re uh.. you’re right, doll. i am your best friend, and as my best friend duties..” he pauses, taking a step back to examine your face. “gotta make you feel better, don’t i?”

“and i know just the perfect way to help you through this baby, perfect way to get him off that little brain of yours.” he persuades, hand following up your neck then up your face.. testing his boundaries as he starts stroking your face.

“r-really?” you question, glossy eyes looking at him full of hope. “yea, but you gotta tell me you trust me first, can’t do anything if you don’t trust me.”

your brows furrow, light whine passing your lips. “of course i trust you!” you reply, almost offended. “good.. good. jus’ making sure. here, just take my hand, okay?”

and when he leads you upstairs, taking you to his bed, slowly pulling off your clothes— he makes sure to plant even more seeds into your brain.

reassuring you that he was just trying to help, that he would never do something that wasn’t in your best interest, that it would all be okay if you just let him take care of everything.

you give into all his sweet words, because you truly believe that he was the only one that had your back.

he drills into your head that he knows how you needed to be treated and that he’d gladly give it you, just needing your word.

he breaks that virgin cunt of yours with the most addictive mixture of roughness and care you could ever dream of. long and deep strokes having you creaming on his shaft in minutes, suckling on his fingers as he coos that he’s got you.

and when you wake up in the morning, rafe’s arms wrapped around you.. you couldn’t be more happier— he’d never hurt you like your ex boyfriend.

[princessbrunette]

oofff flashing criminal!rafe through the divider glass when you visit him in prison 🥰🥰🥰

𐙚 ㅤ  ❦︎ ㅤ ₍ᐢᐢ₎

you promise yourself you won’t cry, and you don’t — brows etched in a permanent knit as the stoic officer leads you through to the visitation centre. you’re seated infront of a glass window and a telephone, awaiting the men in uniform to escort your boyfriend into the room.

he’d been in jail for a few weeks now, and today was finally the day you were able to visit him. it had been long and lonely without him, your communication wittled down to measly 2 minute phone calls that was likely listened in on by guards or other prisoners. you’d only hoped he had been doing okay, trying to put the horror stories you’d heard of prison out of your mind.

they bring in rafe, the man looking already more bulky from his time away, head shaved and orange uniform worn lazily, the shirt open to reveal a wife beater. you try to swallow down the urge to fully check him out, the concern getting the better of you as you snatch the phone to your ear, staring at him with wide glassy eyes. a smirk tugs at his lips at the eagerness as he raises his own to his ear.

“hi, baby.” his voice comes through drawled but clear as day.

“hi, are you okay in there? do you need me to send you anything? i— i just recently got in touch with this lawyer who said there may be a loophole —”

“yeah uh, let’s not talk about that a’ight? another time. i’m… i’m in here now, okay so— let’s just talk. normal shit.” he raises his eyebrows, to show it’s not a request but more so a demand— however at the end his expression melts into a reassuring smile. you sink a little in your seat, sucking in a deep breath.

“yeah, sorry.” you shake your head and he waves you off with a hand to show he didn’t mind, leaning back in his seat with his legs spread a little, phone still pressed to his ear. you stare at eachother in silence for a moment before he speaks again. “that dress… i haven’t seen that one.”

“its new.” you nod, looking down at yourself. he presses a few fingers over his lips, nodding slowly as he stares at the way the fabric is taught around your chest.

“mm… walkin’ round lettin’ other guys see you like that, huh?” he speaks but it’s soft, like he’s not really accusing you of anything — but old habits die hard. you frown, shaking your head anyway and he returns your gaze with his eyes hung low.

“wore it for you.”

“yeah…” he glances at the robotic officers stood stationed at the back of the booth, minding their business whilst simply doing there job. “why don’t you uh… gimme somethin’ to remember when i head back in? hm?” he cocks his head, eyes jumping down to your chest again.

“like what?” you sit forward slightly. you wanted to help him with whatever you could, you just wasn’t so sure what he was getting at.

“like… why don’t you pull that dress down for a sec? just real quick baby, i’m tryna see something.” he lowers his voice, and your eyes naturally flutter at the nasally rich-boy drawl that comes through the phones receiver. you burst into a giggle, looking around at the other visitors.

“rafe!” you sweetly scold, and whilst his lips jump up just a tad, he sits forward like he means business.

“m’not joking, okay? look if— if i could reach through this glass n’grab those fuckin’ titties right now i would, but i can not so i’m beggin’ you to work with me here. you don’t know what it’s like in here, kid — i’m a man starved, a’ight, please.” he drops his voice even more to hiss in a desperate whisper and you look around, wetting your lips as you consider making your move.

you return your gaze to him, and as your dress was strapless all you had to do was pull it down. you giggle mischievously as you do so, pushing your tits together with your hands, squeezing at them a little before yanking your dress up after you suspected the officer taking peeks. rafe grins, pleased — before shifting in his seat, adjusting his crotch area and glancing around. “mm, s’what i’m talkin’ about baby.”

“i miss you.” you’re still giggling, the smiling gently fading into a pout and he presses his lips together with a nod.

“miss you too. when i get outta here it’s fucking over for you, hope you know that. don’t expect to be walkin’ for a few days. that’s a damn promise.”

“well, i look forward to it, big bad rafe cameron.”

𐙚 ㅤ  ❦︎ ㅤ ₍ᐢᐢ₎

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

A gnawing sense of foreboding creeps up on Steve as they head to Eddie’s trailer, armed with weapons.

He tries to outrun it through action: ensuring he’s the first one to go through the Gate; jumping back and forth between The Upside Down and their world whenever someone forgets something, “It’s okay, I’ve got it!”; triple checking that the cables for Eddie’s amps are long enough; searching for the slightest thing than seizing upon it with an enthusiasm bordering on desperate, “Hey, we could use this, right? Better take it, just in case.”

But that only works for so long, and then Steve’s just standing in Eddie’s kitchen, the real one, staring blankly at the cupboards, all out of distractions.

Out of time.

He hears a grunt of exertion behind him, then an unsteady landing, a muffled curse. Eddie.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. Wanted to fit your aerobics routine in?”

He’s teasing, so light-hearted despite it all; Steve can’t stand it.

Keeps his back turned, gut twisting, opening the cupboards then slamming them shut, thump, thump. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. He never has.

“Uh, so I was thinking,” Eddie continues, like Steve’s not doing anything weird, “that I could stretch out the, um, the song? My playing? Could buy you some more time, anyway.”

“Sure, great,” Steve says shortly.

He thinks—with a numb kind of calm—that he’s going to be sick.

He gets to the bathroom, tries to shut the door, but his grip slips on the handle.

Turns on the faucet, scoops cold water from his hands into his mouth, and it helps until it doesn’t, until he’s almost choking on it, and he’s been here before, the feeling familiar: a shadow looming over him, just waiting, waiting, and he knows it’ll pass, it always does, but he can’t stop thinking of Robin, it might not work out for us this time, and what if, what if—

He can hear Eddie knocking on the doorframe, just out of view—as if he’d seen Steve’s failed attempt at shutting the door and wanted to respect it.

“Hey, man, you okay?” Then Eddie mutters to himself, “Obviously not, get a fucking clue.”

Steve’s laugh is strangled but real. He wipes his mouth dry and shuts off the water.

“You don’t need to talk to a wall, dude,” he says.

And Eddie steps into view, leans against the open door. His eyes flicker across Steve’s face, and Steve doesn’t want to know what he’s noticed, so when Eddie opens his mouth hesitantly, he speaks first.

“We should—they’re gonna wonder where we are.”

Eddie pauses on the verge of speech; Steve watches him reevaluate whatever he was going to say.

“Well,” Eddie says, gesturing to the bathroom, matter-of-fact, “we could be peeing.”

Steve manages a chuckle. “You’re an idiot.”

Eddie grins like he’s saying yup, that’s me, like he’s won a prize.

Steve has seen him wear something close to that expression not even an hour ago: when the kids had started a line to use the bathroom in the RV, and Eddie had snorted, giggled with a childish kind of delight, “You—ha! You all look like you’re on a field trip,” before joining the line himself—calling out that he hoped their plan accounted for bathroom breaks because, “There’s no way I’m pissing in the alternate dimension,” and that had made Nancy break, laughing in a way Steve was certain he hadn’t heard since ‘83.

Eddie steps into the room and shuts the door quietly. Steve gets why: his breathing’s still all wrong, and if Dustin happened to see him, he doesn’t think he’d ever forgive himself.

“Sorry.” Steve sucks in a breath, tries to hold it. Loses it in an exhale that shudders at the edges. He speaks through the tail end of it, hoping that’s enough to conceal the sound, “Gimme, like, two minutes.”

“Make it ten,” Eddie says.

The way he says it makes it seem like it’s already a done deal; he must’ve spoken to Robin and Nancy before he tumbled through the Gate.

Despite himself, Steve feels a wave of relief: just for a little while, he has time; it overpowers the shame, leaves him sinking down to sit on the closed toilet seat.

He closes his eyes, just breathes. In… out… in…

He doesn’t realise that Eddie’s sitting down, too, until he hears the clunk of his boots, the rustle of clothing as he moves.

“Sorry,” Steve says again, and it annoyingly still comes out a little shaky, like he’s in the pool and he’s left it too long to snatch a breath. “You can go back, man, I’ll… I’ll be right there.”

He opens his eyes to see Eddie shaking his head, sat with his back against the bathtub.

“Stop apologising,” Eddie says, and then it’s as if the seriousness of it is too much for him, because he adds, with a self-deprecating smile that Steve hates, “I get it. You’re walking into the dragon’s lair, I’m just putting on a concert.”

“Don’t,” Steve says, and he doesn’t intend for the word to come out as sharp as it does, but that doesn’t change the fact that he means it. He means it.

Eddie’s smile fades.

“Don’t,” Steve repeats, quieter. Not quite an apology.

Slowly, he moves off the toilet seat, until he’s sat next to Eddie. There’s just enough space that they don’t need to touch, but Steve presses his shoulder against Eddie’s anyway, like he can somehow pass on everything he means through that alone.

Eddie sighs, presses back for just a second. “Don’t what?” he asks. He sounds tired all of a sudden.

“Don’t—don’t joke like that,” Steve says. “Like you’re not—” He swallows. “Like it’s not dangerous.”

There’s a pause. Eddie reaches across and puts a hand on Steve’s knee. Squeezes briefly and pulls back; already Steve finds that he misses the warmth of him.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Eddie says. There’s no joke in this, not a trace. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to Dustin.” Another smile. Gentle. “Swear on his mother.”

I’m not worried about that, Steve wants to say, but of course that’s not true; he’s tried hard not to look at Dustin directly ever since they arrived at the trailer, because his throat would start to close up alarmingly whenever his gaze lingered, and he knows the kid’s doing that whole semi-aloof teenager thing lately, but a part of him still wants to hold him tight and never let go.

It’s more that the shape of Steve’s worry is different to what he thinks Eddie’s imagining, covers more than Dustin’s safety alone—that the cold dread in his stomach brings him back to the tunnels in ‘84; to clutching Dustin, who was so small, Steve desperately trying to shield him with his own body, thinking the kid’s thirteen, only thirteen, this isn’t fucking fair; and that if this had to end one way, all he could do was pray that he’d be the only one to…

And Steve hadn’t wanted to die, but he was suddenly facing it anyway, and Christ, looking back at it, that was crazy, the whole damn thing was crazy, but it all made a twisted kind of sense at the time.

Eddie must spot that his train of thought’s gone down a dark alley because he knocks their knees together, but he doesn’t say anything. Just breathes, slumped against the bathtub; it’s probably the first time he’s been still—truly still—in a long while.

He must be exhausted, Steve thinks.

The gnawing feeling digs in, grips his heart.

“I can hear you thinking,” Eddie says quietly. “Listen, Steve, I know I’m new to, uh… all of this shit, but I’m on it, okay? Got it all up in here,” he taps the side of his head, “trust me—”

That’s not what—I trust you, of fucking course I do, but—

“—no deviations, and—”

“Plans change,” Steve says, and he hears himself, the calm decisiveness, just get ready; Dustin’s scream carrying across the junkyard, Steve, abort, abort! “Just… just promise me.”

“Promise you?” Eddie murmurs.

Steve feels the words on his tongue, the weight of them. Don’t do anything stupid. 

He swallows them down—afraid suddenly that if he really puts a name to it, it’s going to happen.

Fuck it, he’s exhausted too, and for a long moment he evades speaking: gingerly rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Feels his body heat, the swell of his breathing.

Eddie doesn’t tense up, just lets him rest there. 

If I kissed you, Steve thinks, drained, would you stay?

He doesn’t say it. Instead he lifts his head and asks, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Eddie chuckles. They’re still so close, Steve can feel his amused sigh.

“Tomorrow? I’ve not really… like, hopefully I’m not in jail. Anything else is a bonus.”

“We’ll fix it,” Steve says fiercely. “Trust me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Eddie says, grinning fondly, but he sounds genuine. “Shit, man, I think you could do anything.” He gestures outside. “Got the fucking dream team out there.”

“We solved a secret Russian code last summer.”

Eddie laughs. “Did you?” His eyes sparkle with mirth.

You’re beautiful.

“Gospel truth, I swear,” Steve says. He tries to stay light, but he makes the vow anyway. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

I have so much to tell you.

They stand up, and Steve doesn’t know who’s the first one to move—just that they both probably sensed the time dwindling.

And maybe it’s that, the inescapable thought that something’s coming to an end that does it. Steve doesn’t know for sure, just knows that his eyes are burning suddenly—mortifyingly—with tears. He looks up at the ceiling, hurriedly trying to push them back, but Eddie notices anyway.

“Steve, what is it?” he whispers, with a look of utter devastation.

Steve shakes his head. “Just being stupid,” he says, voice brittle, cutting himself off before he can say something ridiculous.

God, Eddie, let’s just stay here and grow old.

“You’re not stupid,” Eddie says, heartfelt—he stops just short of touching Steve; he clearly wants to help so badly, but he doesn’t know how.

Steve wants to tell him it’s fine. He doesn’t know either.

Maybe nothing can help this.

They leave for the Gate in unspoken agreement; at first Steve finds comfort in the sight of Eddie dangling on the rope, not quite in either world. Like every possibility is laid out before him.

I’ll tell you tomorrow.

But there’s a near imperceptible shift as Eddie keeps climbing, and Steve needs to look away, anything to avoid the pit in his stomach: the suspicion that the path’s already been chosen.

[findafight]

Been thinking about another time travel au...

But this time, it's Robin. Just. Robin. She lands the Friday before Will goes missing, and she immediately assumes Steve went with her. Because of course he time traveled with her, why wouldn't he?

Until she gets to school and sees Steve flirting with Nancy and joking with Carol and Tommy. His eyes glance over her without recognition and she realizes she's alone. She panics every morning period until deciding to just go up and corner Steve at lunch and explain to him, try to prove to him she's actually his best friend from the future, and get help.

It ends up with her sitting on the floor of the boys bathroom crying, holding onto (a very confused and mildly freaked out) Steve's hand, and telling him that her day has sucked because how do you even deal with timetravel without your best friend? How do you deal with trying to save the world without them? She can't do this without him and she's freaking out and she wants her best friend back.

And Steve going "hey, uh. Okay. So... you're my friend in this weird future you're trying to stop? Prove it."

Which is something Robin can do. She stares at him for a long time, thinking, and Steve's huffs

"yeah okay. Super weird prank or whatever. Don't bug me again." And goes to stand up but Robin tugs his hand towards her and stops him.

"you are so impatient! I'm trying to think of something to say that won't freak you out and has actually happened! Gimme a minute!"

And Steve raises his eyebrows but he does wait.

"your aunt Ev." She says, finally. "She was your favourite grownup. Loved star trek. You cried so hard when she died and- uh. At her funeral, your dad got mad at you."

Steve blinks at her, brows furrowed."How...how did you know that? Nobody knows that."

Robin smiles. "Dingus. I'm your best friend from the future. You did."

Steve frowns. "Tell me something else."

"okay" she nods "you and Tommy tell everyone both your first kisses were with Carol but the day before you kissed each other."

"what the fuck."

"do you believe me now? Because seriously I need your help with this but I can keep going."

Swallowing Steve nods. Gives her a hand up.

"great. Okay. So, I think we need to tell Jonathan and Nancy about this. Then go to Joyce and Hopper. I'm not quite sure? You were always better at gameplans honestly."

"what about Tommy and Carol?"

She looks at him, and tilts her head (the same way he does) thinking. "Sure. Why not. They'll be suspicious why we're so buddy buddy now anyways."

[chlorinecake]

“I cherish you” | N.RK ff ༄

༄ Last year’s Valentine’s Day marked the day you and your boyfriend Riki first starting dating. Ever since then, he spoils you on the 14th day of every month in honor of your love story…

🍒 pairing bf!nishimura riki x fem!reader genre romance, fluff 🍒

༄ wc 1.1k ~ written with black reader in mind ~ requested !

You found your boyfriend in your shared apartment bathroom doing his typical morning routine. You walked up behind him, snaking your hands beneath his shirt to pull him closer. Pressing your cheek against his back, you could smell a new body wash he must’ve used. Or maybe it was cologne?

“Morning,” Riki mumbled through a mouthful of minty foam, wiping his mouth before turning to kiss the top of your head.

“Good morning,” you returned warmly.

He ran a clawed hand through your hair before his fingers got caught in your curls. You winced at the sudden tug before giggling at the worried expression that waved over Riki’s face.

“Sorry, baby! Did I hurt you?”

“No, Riki, but you did remind me that I need to comb my hair,” you smiled, freeing him from your clingy grasp.

You searched through the bathroom drawer for a few products to style your hair. In the meantime, your boyfriend was busy lathering his face with shaving cream.

“Uh,” you started confused, “what’re you doing?”

“Prepping to shave my beard.”

You snorted, “Your what?”

“I’m not as young as I was when we first met, y’know? This is what men do.”

“Mhm, and who told you that?”

“Heeseung-hyung. He’s one of the best people I can go to for advice. Especially with girls.”

“Oh, so you’re a man and I’m just a girl?”

“For now, yes. Though, maybe in a few years I’ll make you my woman if you stick around long enough,” he winked, making you cringe but in a loving way.

“Hey, I wanna try,” you chirped, snatching the razor from his hand.

“Woah, ____! Did you forget there’s a sharp blade on that thing?”

“Oh, c’mon! You’re a man now, remember? Don’t tell me you’re scared of your girlfriend.”

He shook his head at your teasing, “only when she’s on her period… that’s when she get's really crazy.”

You nudged him in the shoulder, making him giggle.

“Okay, now hold still,” you said, guiding him by his chin as you slid the razor against his face, checking after each stroke for any access hair. “Riki, there’s nothing on here!”

“Gimme that,” he said, taking the razor from your hand to examine it for himself. And to no one’s surprise, there wasn’t any hair on it.

“Ugh, this is useless,” he whined, wiping his face before leaving the bathroom.

You followed after him, “Riki, is everything okay? Why’re you putting so much stress into getting ready today?”

He looked at you with offended eyes, “Don’t tell me you forgot today marks our 14th month anniversary.”

Suddenly, everything started to make sense.

“Riki, you don’t have to try and impress me. I love you just the way you are like I always have,” you smiled, holding his hands in yours.

“I love you too, ____, but that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna spoil you on our anniversary.”

Riki was never one to consider gift-giving to be one of his love languages. Not until he asked you to be his girlfriend on Valentine's Day over a year ago.

The day started with him showering you with gifts and praise as an attempt to earn your love which he already had. These days, your romantic boyfriend can't help but to celebrate the day he won you, even though his friends call him a simp for it.

And in perfect cliche fashion, your anniversary happens to fall on the 14th day of every month, which is what brings you here today.

“Spoil me, huh?” You grinned, “so what do you have planned? I mean, sometimes I feel like we’ve done everything already.”

“You know I'll always think of something new. But for now, it's a surprise. You’ll find out after we finished getting ready.”

You and your boyfriend shared the bathroom for the next 25 minutes as you two got dressed together, wearing the cutest matching red outfits that he picked out a whole week prior to today.

“You look absolutely stunning, ____,” he marveled, taking in your frame like a work of art.

Your stomach fluttered at his remark, “Oh please, you’re just proud of your work.”

“Maybe,” he smirked, pulling a large bouquet of red roses from behind his back.

“Riki,” you began before he took your hand, interlacing your fingers around the flower stems.

“I wanna get a picture of you like this,” he smiled, counting down from three before snapping a quick picture, “Don’t worry, I won’t post it anywhere,” he said, noticing that you seemed a bit awkward.

You walked outside with his arm linked in yours, still holding the rose bouquet. You two made your way past the familiar shops that lined the city streets beyond your apartment, taking in the beautiful early morning scenery.

That’s when you two spotted a band of instrumentalists, harmonizing to a romantic tune. You looked up at Riki with playful eyes, communicating to him that you wanted to dance.

Knowing your boyfriend, he would happily oblige to any opportunity to dance, especially with the love of his life.

“May I,” he asked cornily, bowing before you.

“Yes, Riki, you may.”

He took the bouquet from your grasp, placing it on a nearby coffee table before tucking a rose behind your ear.

“And for you,” you smiled, placing one of the roses between his teeth.

He took your hand in his, pulling you close before guiding you across the floor along with the music, bracing your lower back.

Your hands sat at his shoulders before getting lost in his hair, staring into his piercing eyes as the heart-warming melody came to a sudden stop.

It was starting to rain.

The band busied themselves with packing up their instruments before fleeing the moist environment.

"Welp, that was fun while it lasted," Riki chimed, grabbing the bouquet before walking back in the direction of your apartment.

"Hey, I thought we were gonna spend the day out," you pouted confused.

"I know, but I had a picnic date planned in the park, which I doubt would be much fun in this weather."

He held the flowers over your two heads as a way to shield yourselves from the down pour.

"Sooo, what do we do, now?"

"Hmm," he hummed in thought, "we could always just run around the city and hope we don't get struck by lightening. Orrrrr, we could have a dance off in the rain! First one to slip loses."

"Riki!"

"What? That's better than me sulking over how a few grey clouds ruined our anniversary."

You looked at his face which fell from its original enthusiasm, trying to think of something to cheer him up.

You smacked the bouquet out of his hand, running ahead of him.

"Yah, ____! I paid good money for these!"

"Last one to the apartment's a rotten egg," you giggled, hardly getting far with your high heels against the rain.

Riki counted from five, giving you a few more seconds to get ahead before sprinting ahead of you, laughing as you pouted in defeat.

Fin.

🌹 Special thanks to @microwvdstrawb3rri3s for requesting this piece! This was my first time writing an established relationship fic so I hope you guys enjoyed it!

🌹 Taglist (open) — @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @kaykay11sworld @rickysblkgf @4imhry @yngwife @bambangan @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @nikipedia07 @naddii @beomgyusonlywife @rickysblkgf @nikiiitties @03sunoos

[tartarusknight]

The Fallen King and the King of the Freaks | Part 1

Ao3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Steve didn't have the heart to tell the kids about how Billy didn't back off after Max's threat. Not when they seemed to look up to him for some reason. So, instead, he stayed out of Billy's way as much as he could. But it seemed like the man was hunting him down. It got to the point that Steve dropped basketball.

Steve got used to being slammed into lockers and taunts from the people he used to friends with. So what if he wasn't top dog anymore? So what if he didn't have any friends his own age? So what if Nancy dumped him (ripped his heart out and stomped on it with bullshit)? So what if Billy left bruises on his body with well time jabs and kicks? Steve was an adult he could handle this...

However, as he was shoved into the janitors closet and hearing the lock click behind him, he thought maybe it was getting worse. He slammed his shoulder to the door but it didn't budge and he heard Billy's stupid laughter outside. "Enjoy your alone time, princess," Billy taunted.

Steve slid to the ground and tried not to panic. He wasn't going to freak out just because it's dark and he doesn't have anything to protect himself. He really wasn't going to. He wasn't that much of a loser that he was scared of the dark.

Then he started to cry. He normally was a silent crier, but normally, he wasn't struggling to breathe. He curled around himself and tried not to think of creatures with mouths that took up their entire head and opened like flower petals. Really, he was trying. But Steve just couldn't focus.

There was a soft voice outside the door that shook him from his isolation. "Hey man, you alright?" A dude questioned, and Steve tried to focus so he could answer. "Imma pick the lock, just gimme a minute. I've got ya," the voice was smooth, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't really want to be seen at the moment, but he wanted out more.

The door clicked, and Steve crawled back so it could open. Eddie Munson was crouched there, a few things in his hands that he probably used to pick the lock. The known drug dealer looked frozen in shock at the sight of Steve, and Steve basically plowed into him to get out of the room quickly.

His brain was fried, and he really wanted to cling to Munson and let the calm voice focus him. Instead, he backed off and pressed his back to the wall, hanging his head between his thighs. "Thanks," he mumbled and hid his tear stained face from the other.

"Uh, it's um, not a problem... Usually, I'm helping others after you pick on them, though," Eddie's voice wasn't as soft as it had been. It made Steve wince and curl up tighter on himself. Of course, Munson would hate him...

"Never shoved anyone in janitor closets before," he said instead.

"Ahh, lockers then."

Steve shook his head, "You could really hurt someone doing that. What if no one found them? Or if they passed out or something?" He pointed out and finally looked up at the other boy. Eddie was just staring at him like he's never seen Steve before. "I never wanted to hurt anyone," Steve breathed out, but it came out more snappish than he meant it to.

"Right... so how come King Steve was shoved into the closet?" Eddie questioned and Steve looked away from him. "Did you sleep with someone's girl-"

"Jesus man, I get it! You hate me but can you fucking stop? Not everything that happens to me is my fault, okay?" Steve snapped, and Eddie flinched back. "Fuck, stop acting like I'll hurt you, Jesus. Billy's just an asshole who needs a punching bag, okay? And he learned that he can take he down, okay?" He gestured to the slowly healing bruises on his face.

Eddie was staring at him, "why you?"

Steve scoffed, "cause he can't take it out on his sister anymore? Cause he's an asshole with mommy issues? Or maybe just because he knows I won't fight back! I don't know, I'm not in his brain! I don't know what he thinks when he trips me in the hallway or throws a ball at my head in the gym!"

Eddie blinks and gets up to his feet, but then he holds out his hand in offering. "Come on, man." Steve takes it and lets Eddie pull him to his feet. He's still a little shaky, but he manages to stay on his feet. "I've been known to adopt lost sheep," he's guided away towards the exit and he's so shocked he doesn't fight it.

"Thought you hated me," He points out.

Eddie laughs, "eh, you can just buy me dinner." Eddie pauses for a moment, but Steve is already nodding. It makes Eddie grin, and he throws an arm around his shoulder. "Welcome to the land of the outcasts. Here I'm the king." He gestures to the group of people smoking by one of the picnic benches outside.

"You'll lose a few cool-dude points if you're seen with us," Eddie smiles like it's funny but Steve just feels bad. These were the people he never stood up for. These were the people he never looked at, just ignored.

Steve smiles and looks at Eddie, "you inviting me into the Munson cult?"

Eddie's grin goes sharp, "You gotta earn that. I'm offering you a starting point."

Steve thinks about how lonely he's been and how kind Eddie's voice had been. "So, how do I climb up the ladder? My only skills are giving rides, basketball, and hair."

"Don't forget the Harrington charm," Eddie grins and it's kinder. "Show us yourself, and we'll see from there." He whispers before turning to the group of people.

"Gentlemen, we have a traveler from the halls of royalty! He's come to bless us with his presence!" Eddie's voice is filled with so much emotion. Steve almost misses the way the group tenses up.

Steve might have a while to go before they trust them. But he thinks maybe it could be worth it. Especially as Eddie looks back at him with a smile that makes Steve's stomach flip. "Uh, hey," he smiles awkwardly, wiggling his fingers in greeting.

[sednas]

['CAUSE HE'S A F×CK BOY ─ s. gojo]

꒰ ͜͡➸ sorry what did you say? oh you want a virginkiller!gojo fic? with enemies to lovers vibes? yeah I might have this one in store for you. smut will be in the second part tho! (which will be posted in one week or five months, who knows! :))

pairing: virginkiller!gojo x virgin!fem!reader

tw: college!au, suggestive themes, virginity kink, (dub-con) make out session, gojo is annoying but hey what's new, sexual tension, light fem masturbation at the end

gojo satoru was the golden boy. the most intelligent student of his class, the most talented sports player of the school, the most popular guy of the campus, maybe even of the whole city. he was excellent at everything. people were too amazed by his talent to notice his arrogance and his condescending smile, too blinded by his bright blue eyes and his snowy white hair.

gojo was the best at everything, and it included fucking. hell, fucking was actually on top of the list. he had a cheerleader waiting for him every night in his room, sometimes he could just wink at a girl and she was already spreading her legs for him in the bathroom a few minutes later. he could have literally everyone, but what he liked best was virgins. he loved them, such good girls who managed to keep their innocence until college. they were always so easy, so pliant.

and the thing he mostly liked to do with them was fucking them so hard that nobody could ever compare after that. he wanted them to think about him every time they would fuck someone else, he wanted them to rub their thighs together while thinking about him years later, this is what he liked to do with them. of course, the thought of ruining them for their first time was also appealing, they were usually so shy and reserved, he liked to take them apart piece by piece, make them drool, and then cry, and then forcing them to look at themselves in the mirror, letting them see how the filthiest version of themselves looked like. and in the end, when they were too fucked to think, he made them say thanks.

and this was exactly what he wanted to do with you.

you were way more difficult than the others, doing your best to ignore his piercing blue eyes, answering by a simple nod of your head every time he was trying to start a conversation, leaving the room every time he was in.

yeah you were difficult, but satoru always got what he wanted.

“all by yourself uh?”

he startled you a bit, and he could see that you were already looking for a way out by the way your eyes were looking at everything but him.

he moved his body to be at the same height as you, looking at you through his glasses, and then he said your name in a sweet voice, smiling when he saw how easily he got you looking back at him, your face obviously flushed.

“finally paying attention to me mh? it's a shame that you don't look at me often, I really like your eyes, they're pretty.”

and he really meant it, you were telling him everything with those eyes, the way you were constantly daydreaming about him, how you were humping your pillow at night, imagining it was his thigh instead. yeah, very pretty eyes.

“I want to get to know ya.” he said with a smile, and he got closer.

he kept himself from laughing when he saw you taking a few steps back and then he stopped, not wanting to make you panic too much.

“here, gimme your phone.”

you obeyed after barely a few seconds, and it only confirmed what he was already thinking; you were wrapped around his finger even though you were trying to hide it.

“mmh cute wallpaper… alright I'm just gonna add my number to your contacts annnnnd… done!” he finally said, his relaxed smile still on his face, handing you over your phone.

he didn't let go of it immediately, making sure your hands brushed against one another, noticing the way your breath got stuck in your throat.

“call me okay?”

one month passed by and you never called, or even texted. gojo felt frustration for the first time in his life, and because of that he was rougher than usual when he was fucking a cheerleader, his thoughts always coming back to you, and the way you were still ignoring him even though you were fucking yourself with your fingers every night while thinking about him. he was starting to get tired of his own game, but still, he wasn't planning on giving up. and so when he saw you standing in the kitchen during that halloween party, a devilish grin appeared on his pale face...

it's already too late when you spot him across the room, his blue eyes are on you. you can barely think of an escape that he's already in front of you, wearing a black tuxedo, a white collar wrapped around his neck and long white victorian sleeves hugging his arms, and making the rings on his fingers look elegant.

“you didn't call me.“ gojo whispers against your ear, his long arms trapping you between his body and the kitchen counter.

you open your mouth but no sound comes out, your eyes try to escape his teasing gaze as you're sure he can see every little detail on your face by standing so close.

“I thought… I thought you weren't serious when you gave me your number.”

he chuckles, noticing how you're even more embarrassed to look him in the eyes when he hasn't his glasses on.

“I like your costume, it suits your body.”

you feel your skin grows hot, his voice so soft and intimate, his eyes trailing on your body from up and down. it feels like you're alone in the whole house with only him. and your heart is racing with fear and anticipation, as you bring your thighs together. gojo notices it, placing his knee between them before you can fully close them, making you gasp.

“so tell me something baby…” he starts speaking in a honeyed voice, his lips coming closer to your ear.

you blink at the nickname, his body weighting a little more on your own, your back uncomfortably pressed against the kitchen counter as your body slowly bent to accommodate to the awkward position.

“are you scared of me or something?”

a nervous laugh comes out of your mouth, turning your head to escape from his warm gaze.

“I'm not scared of you.”

he can tell you're sincere, but it only makes him want to know more.

“then why are you avoiding me all the time uh?”

he tilts his head to the side, eyes burning with curiosity and his teeth flashing at you when you finally look back at him.

“i'm avoiding you because… you're so annoying, and you fuck everyone you know and you're so arrogant, always thinking you're better than anyone else. I don't like you, at all.”

a few seconds of silence pass by while both of you just look at eachother, until a smirk slowly appears on gojo's face.

“I didn't know you were so mean.” he laughed. “but if you hate me so much why aren't you pushing me away right now?” his sultry voice keeps sliding on you like honey, his mouth so close to your skin, breath fanning over your neck.

he's right, and he knows it, smiling even wider when he sees you looking at the ground in defeat.

“that's what I thought.” he smiles, one of his hand sliding along the side of your jaw, the sudden touch making your heart skips a beat.

his pale hand looks good on your skin, you can feel his fingers squeezing lightly your throat and the atmosphere becomes more tense than before, he still has this grin, like he knows everything about you, especially how much you want him to touch you more.

you're a few seconds away from giving up, your body almost falling on the counter to let gojo fully rest on you. somehow his smirk grows wider when he sees you closing your eyes. you let out a little whine when you feel him pressing all of his body weight against you.

“that was a sweet sound baby, mind if you make some more for me?”

despite shaking your head no, you pressed your body against him, hungry for more, finding a new pleasure in being the center of his attention. his slender fingers find their way to squeeze your chest, drawing another whine out of your mouth.

“more…” he orders, the sound of his voice muffled against your skin.

you try to close your lips, in a poor attempt not to give in so easily, but your legs turn to jelly as soon as he puts his soft lips on your neck. one of your hands flew through his white hair as you gasped at this new sensation.

his hot tongue tracing kisses along your neck, he grabbed your hips, bringing you even closer, letting you feel his boner. you feel dirty, intoxicated, but the heat coming out of his body is addictive. you let out another sound and your fingers are now grabbing his shirt in a needy way, trying to get him even closer to you. you want more. you need more.

you suddenly open your eyes when you feel his warmth vanish from your trembling body. you watch him walk away in disbelief while he's wearing a wicked smile on his face.

“I think my friends are waiting for me… it was fun, you should call me later okay?” he winked at you before exiting the room without letting you have any time to react.

you're left here, breathless, blood pumping into your veins, eyes clouded with desire, a pool of arousal between your legs. your hands clench into fists, of course he did it on purpose.

your eyes are fixated on your phone as breathless sighs keep coming out of your mouth.

"fuck!" you let out an exasperated groan, throwing your head back into the soft pillows.

your fingers are still trying to reach that spongy spot inside you, you arch your back, lifting your hips in the air, hoping it will allow your fingers to touch deeper parts. but you're left unsatisfied again, your legs twitching in frustration. your head hit your pillow and your eyes go back to your phone.

"he would fuck me right." you mumble to yourself.

part two

jjk masterlist

a lovely reminder that reblogs and comments are highly appreciated ♡

[leoncillo]

Sooo uhhh the clones' colors reminded me of Uno cards and I couldn't get the idea out of my head so I wrote this, but it's messy and not really edited or fleshed out and written on my phone. I might put more into it and put it on AO3, too. This is like only the second fic I've ever shown to the public. Uh yeah. >.>;;

Aizetsu/Sekido/Karaku/Urogi x Reader, Zohakuten is their little brother. Reader is gender neutral. Reader is Black.

Uno with the Hantengu Clones

You walked with a pep in your step ready to get home to your apartment and four demon boyfriends and their little brother. You knew during they day they tended to get antsy because they couldn't go outside freely and this usually resulted in-

"Leave me alone, Karaku!" you heard your sorrowful boyfriend shout as you approached the door.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath before adjusting the groceries in your arms to open the door.

"Okay! Okay! I'll stop, Sekido! Ahh!" you watched as your easily angered boyfriend choked his green eyed brother with his staff for messing with the blue eyed one.

"They're home! They're home!" you heard as your feathered joyful ball of energy of a boyfriend as he nearly tackled you in an embrace. "We're so bored! Play with us!"

You pushed him away to get a little space and protect him from the sunlight long enough to get the groceries on the counter.

"I figured you would be so I got a little card game at the store. The cards reminded me of you guys. I don't know how hard games back when y'all were younger were, but it's pretty easy. First, could I ask for a little help putting things away?"

Sekido, the angry one, let go of Karaku and roughly pushed him towards the kitchen and Aizetsu and Zohakuten followed. They each you a kiss on the cheek as they passed by to grab items from the bags. Except Zohakuten who gave you a simple nod and glare. He's a bit shy, that one.

"So many plastic bags. This makes me sad. You should get reusable bags, dear." Aizetsu said, his eyes glossy with unshed tears.

After ten minutes or so, you lead the boys back into the living room and told them to sit down at the low table for the game. A small part of you figured this was probably a horrible idea, but the curious side just had to see what happened.

"This game is called Uno" you said as you explained the rules and dealt their hands for them.

"Are you not gonna play with us?" Urogi asked, watching you sit in a chair a bit far away.

"No, no. I'm goo-"

"Gimme all your green cards. I don't want these other colors" said Karaku.

"I would rather have blue i-if that's alright" said Aizetsu.

"And I want red, but according to them, that's not how this works, you imbeciles! Stop switching cards!" said Sekido

"I hate this already. I don't even have a color, either. Hmph." said Zohakuten

You sighed as you dealt out the cards AGAIN before smirking to yourself in your seat with your phone recording. You wondered how long it would be before the first incident.

"Ha! Draw four, Aizetsu!" Urogi happily shouted as his brother was on the verge of tears.

"That's so mean! I already have 15 cards."

"Just take it like a man and draw the cards, damnit!"

Urogi watched in a fit of giggles.

"I demand the new color be red!" shouted Sekido. You peeked at his hand and raised your eyebrow as it was mostly yellow.

The pile was only red for five seconds before Karaku made it green.

"MOTHERFUCKER" said an extra angry Sekido who had to be held back by Zohakuten and Aizetsu before he smacked his brother over the head with his staff.

"I hate all of you!" said a pouty Zohakuten as he had his turn skipped.

"Wait, you two, come here" you asked Zohakuten and Aizetsu to the side to give them a tip as you could see they were going to get bullied.

When the game resumed, Zohakuten and Aizetsu both put down draw four cards making it so that Karaku had to draw eight.

"No fair! You told them to do that! You can't pick favorites" said Karaku ready to blow the whole damn table away with his leaf.

"I don't even see that being allowed in the rule book! What gives?!" shouted Sekido.

"You read the rule book? T-These are house rules. It's how me and my friends and family play! Besides you guys are always so mean to my sweet boys" you said as you held Aizetsu's and Zohakuten's heads against you.

"Can I be pet like that, too?" asked Urogi completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

By time the game was over, no one had actually won and the room was in shambles and the table in splinters, but you were all in a cuddle puddle to cool off. You sent the video to Hantengu's main body to share with the other upper moons.

[salty-croissants]

Heya! Just hear me out:

When their s/o buys matching hoodies (w/ Bullfrog & Rayman/Ramon)

Thank you for the request ! 

This is a really wholesome and original idea of a prompt , I really enjoyed writing it :D

I apologize for the long wait , but it’s been a very , very busy week , and I’ve been feeling a bit too tired to write anything the past days … sorry about that ;( 

Anyway , I hope this turned out okay ! 

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

When you come back home and show him the matching hoodies you got while you were outside , Bullfrog is definitely very surprised : 

I honestly don’t think he has ever received something like this as a gift , so expect him to be especially enthusiastic .

< Merci beaucoup my dear , it looks so nice ! > 

< Haha , you’re welcome sweetie ! 

I just couldn’t help myself : the idea of sharing some matching clothing with you sounded amazing to be honest ~ > 

This frog will have the brightest smile on his face when you’re both wearing the matching hoodies … 

He just can’t stop gushing about how much he likes his and just how cute you look in yours , it never fails to make you smile ://)

The other Ghosts have seen you two with the matching hoodies occasionally , and while Dolph thinks it’s … well , maybe a bit too cheesy , Jade definitely supports you both , even suggesting more matching clothing you could get … 

< Oh - you guys should definitely try wearing these ! 

I think you’d look super cute in them ! > 

< *sigh* … please don’t encourage this . > 

It’s especially nice when you’re in the safety of your home , cuddling under the comforting warmth of the hoodies and just enjoying each other’s company …

< y/n , thanks again for this hoodie … I just love it ! >

< Don’t mention it … I just really wanted to do something nice for you , y’know ?

If anyone deserves that , it’s you . >

< Aw , venez ici mon amour ~ > 

< Heyy - hahah , that tickles honey ! ~ > 

Rayman 🧡

To say that Rayman is happy about your gift would be an understatement : 

the fact that you decided to surprise him with a matching hoodie just to see him smile is enough to make his daily stress caused by his job disappear for a few precious minutes … 

< So uh , do you like it ? I wasn’t sure about the color at first , I thought it might be a bit too much , but these were the last matching hoodies they had left , and - > 

< Like it ? 

y/n , I love it ! You couldn’t have chosen better ! > 

Rayman is already a big fan of spoiling you , so as soon as he understands that you’re into matching clothing you better believe that he’s going to buy you a lot more of them in the future … maybe exaggerating a little sometimes , but he just wants to do all he can to make you feel loved and appreciated .

< Woah - Ray what happened ? You look like you just bought an entire store ! > 

< Uff - it’s okay ,  I just gotta carry these inside … gimme a second … > 

< Hold on , let me help you …

I really appreciate you getting me all these gifts honey , but maybe don’t get so many next time : I don’t want you to hurt yourself carrying them around ! > 

< Heh … you’re right , you’re right …

I just couldn’t help myself : you deserve all the best things I could possibly give you . > 

< Pfft … you’re always so sweet , thank you ~ > 

< Anything for you , y/n ~ > 

When you’re separated during the day , Rayman likes to carry his hoodie with him and keep it by his side when he’s at work : just looking at it makes him feel so happy to have a loving partner like you , you truly are the best thing that’s ever happened to him ❤️

He loves it whenever the two of you are outside wearing the matching hoodies , it’s like a nice little way of showing to everyone around that his heart belongs to you and you alone … 

Also if you ever feel worried about him getting embarrassed by it , Rayman is quick to make your anxiety go away . 

< That’s nonsense darling … this isn’t just any hoodie , it’s a gift from you , and that makes it all the more special : I could never get embarrassed by it ! > 

Ramon 🖤

Okay , so Ramon might get … pretty worried at the thought that you went to buy something , especially without him : 

he’s the one who is supposed to watch over you , plus Eden knows who you are … they could’ve taken the opportunity to capture you and do horrible things to you .

… however , he can’t bring himself to be actually angry . 

< I’m sorry Ram … I just wanted to do something nice for you , you’ve been looking down lately and I thought … > 

< No - no no , I like the hoodie y/n , I do … it was very sweet of you to do this for me .

Still , please remember that Eden is on the hunt for us , you can’t just go outside without a way to protect yourself . 

Just … be more careful next time , okay ? 

I love you , and I can’t bare the thought of you getting hurt … > 

< I love you too , sweetie … I’ll be more careful , I promise . > 

Sometimes , Ramon is going to hold the hoodie and just … stare at it , quietly reflecting to himself : 

you put your life on the line to get it for him … you risked getting hurt , all to give him a gift that could make him happy … 

While that thought worries him , he just can’t help but smile a little in front of your sheer dedication to make him smile .

It can get very cold in the hiding place you’re both staying in , so you and Ramon definitely cuddle while wearing the hoodies : 

they’re so warm and cozy … they really make those little moments of affection even better . 

< Are you comfortable like this , y/n ? >

< Mhm … couldn’t be better ~ >

It’s not rare for you to stumble upon a sleeping Ramon using the hoodie as a blanket , and he just looks … so cute ;//; 

He often has trouble sleeping , so having your gift so close to him definitely helps him relax … not as much as actually holding you , of course , but it’s still nice ! 

[miniwheat77]

Enough. (Soap x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cheating, arguing (let me know if I missed any.)

(Summary): After Soap gets cheated on, he learns who his real friends are.

(I’ve had this in my drafts for a while, hope you like it.)

You could see the pain in his eyes. The icy blue’s full of tears, but he wouldn’t dare let them fall. Never. He’d let her down again, the woman he thought he cared most about.

He’d been dating a woman named Nadia for almost 2 years. Sure, he’d spent a lot of that time deployed and on missions, but in the time he spent with her, he loved her. He loved being with her. She made him feel complete. But he couldn’t describe these feelings he had. Couldn’t figure it out. He felt dread weighing down on his chest like a brick wall. He felt the freezing cold air nipping at his skin as he sat in the helicopter. It was bringing the both of you back from a mission and he’d opened up to about Nadia.

You both had spent some time in Ukraine, around a month or so. He tried to play it off, tried to explain everything away. “She’s just been through a lot with me, I don’t blame the girl for being done.” He’d said. A sigh leaves your lips. “You said she asked for an open relationship?” You ask. Trying to confirm it. He nods his head. Heart clearly hurting. “Do you want advice from a coworker, or do you want advice from a friend?” You breathe. He looks down. “Which one is goin to be sugarcoated ah?” He laughs. “Coworker.” He snorts. “I’ll take advice from a friend then.” He breathes.

A sigh leaves your lips. “I don’t want to put stuff in your head. But.. when someone asks for an open relationship it’s usually because they’re interested in someone else, or already with someone else. Probably getting sloppy and not trying as hard to hide it. Have you noticed anything different about her?” You ask. He looks down, not liking the words coming out of your mouth. “Uh.. not really.” He says confused. “Any photos of you disappearing off walls? Text messages getting deleted? Weird contacts in her phone?” He looks down. Thinking. “Has she rejected you… sexually?”

“Uh.. yeah.”

“For how long?”

“About.. 6 months now. Anytime I see her she’s just…” he pauses, everything starts to sink in.

The random watch on their dresser, her “work” phone, him finding the toilet seat up.

You watch his eyes widen in realization.

“Shit Johnny…” you trail off. “I’m sorry.” He nods his head. “It’s alright.”

You and Johnny didn’t live far from each other, and would be getting dropped off in the same base to go home from there. But now, Johnny didn’t want to go home. But he knew he had to. When the both of you get off the helicopter, making your way to the parking lot with your bags in hand, you look at him. “Are you going to be okay?” You ask. “Sure, I’ll be fine.” He breathes. “We aren’t married or anything, it’s gonna be just fine.” He sends you a fake smile. “Gimme a hug Sergeant.” You wrap your arms around him. “Let me know if you need anything okay? I got your back.” He nods. “I appreciate it. Same for you.” You throw your bag into your car, turning it on and messing with the radio. Soap is the first to pull out, turning the opposite way of you. You worried about him, knowing this can’t be easy on him.

You pulled out of the parking lot, not ready for the twenty minute drive it’d take to get to your house. The time seemed to bore you, the only thing keeping your mind occupied was the music you had playing. You felt unsettled in your chest, worried about Johnny. He was your friend, your coworker. Of course you’d worry about him. When you pull into your driveway, you hurry inside. The cold weather was almost unbearable. The first thing you do is throw everything down right at the door, and make your way into your bathroom for a hot shower.

Soap pulls into his driveway, noticing a car had been parked behind his girlfriends, as the ground underneath it had been dry. A sigh leaves his lips, this was just proving his suspicions even further. He hoped you were wrong. That it was just a friend. He decides to leave the bag in his truck, he’d unload it later when this is over with. He climbs out, shutting the door behind himself and walking up to the house. Nadia is there, waiting for him. “Johnny.” She smiles. She hugs him but he doesn’t hug her back. “Is something wrong?” She asks confused. “Who is he?” He knows he can’t talk much, his voice will betray him, and break. “Who. Is. He.” He breathes out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I made dinner-“

“Nadia, I know you’re cheating on me.”

She goes quiet, eyes filling with tears. “Johnny he meant nothing to me okay? I-I” he feels his heart shatter right there in his chest. His worst nightmare coming true, his whole world falls apart right in the palms of his hands.

He has no choice but to watch it crumble, with nothing he can do to fix it. “Who?”

“Someone from work.” Johnny closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “How long?”

She’s quiet again. “Nadia how long.”

“6 months after we started dating.”

Right there. His whole relationship has been nothing but bullshit. “I’m going to leave for the night, Nadia. Want you and everything you own gone. One week.”

“Johnny you can’t do this!” She jumps to stop him as he turned to leave. “No!” His voice booms and she flinches. “I didn’t do this. YOU did this. One week.” He rips open the door, slamming it behind himself. His tires spin out as he pulls out of the driveway. He can’t lie, tears fall freely from his eyes as he drives anywhere but there.

You’re looking through your cupboards, wondering what to eat. You’d gotten rid of everything perishable for your mission with Johnny, meaning you had only box and canned food items. You’re tapping your chin, digging through the cupboards when there’s a knock at your door. You slide off of the countertop, making your way for the door. Surprised when you open it and Soap is standing there. “Johnny? What’s going on?” He laughs, looking down. His nose is red, eyes are bloodshot. “Ya said to let you know if I need anything.” His voice is shaky. “And uh… I need a friend.” He breathes. “Come in.” You usher him inside. “What happened?” You ask. “She uh..” his lip quivers but he turns his head away so that you can’t see it. “I confronted her and she admitted to it, she’s been seeing someone else for most of our relationship.” He nods his head. “Jesus Christ.. I’m so sorry Johnny.” He nods his head, trying to keep himself together. But he can’t. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a tight hug. You hated seeing him like this. It made you want to drive over there and punch Nadia right in her stupid face. Johnny was a good man. Kind, gentle, funny. He talked so highly of her. Even planned to ask her to marry him soon. His body shook as you hugged him. “It’s okay Johnny. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me. Let it out.”

“I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” He was meant to reassure you, but really he was reassuring himself. “Do you have clothes to change into?” You ask as he pulls away. “Uh.. yeah.” He shakes. “Go upstairs and take a shower okay? I’ll wash the clothes you’ve got on.” He nods his head. “Thank you Y/N.” He breathes. “You’re a good friend.” You send him a small empathetic smile. “It’s going to be okay Johnny. You have to find someone worth your time.” He nods his head. “I’ll be alright. I’ve got to go grab my bag.” He sighs. You nod your head. He disappears for a minute. He’s brought Nadia over for dinner once before, so he knows where your bathroom is. You decide to order takeout for the both of you while he showers. When he comes back down, he’s got no shirt on. Just sweatpants. You have to draw your eyes away from him. He sits down on the chair across from your couch. “I got takeout. Hope you like Chinese.” He smiles. “Thank you Y/N.” He breathes. “You can stay as long as you need Johnny. You’re always welcome here, don’t forget that.” He nods his head. “Thank you Y/N. You’re a great friend.” He breathes. You smile.

For the next couple hours, the both of you talk about your missions, everything that happened on them. You’re up until ungodly hours of the morning just talking. He takes your guest room and when you finally go to sleep, the sun is peaking through the curtains. Soap loves being around you, you make it easier on him.

After about a week staying with you, he’s ready to confront this. “Hey. Will you go with me to make sure Nadia left my house?” He asks you. “Yeah sure.” He smiles. “I appreciate you so much. I’m sorry I’m making you do all of this.” He sighs. “Johnny, it’s no problem. I really don’t mind so relax.” You smile. “She’s got a track record of accusing me of things I didn’t do so I need a witness,” he breathes. You nod your head, going to get into his car. You can see that he’s tense, so you keep cracking jokes and talking to him to bring him down. His anxiousness is easily readable. When you arrive, he sighs. Her car is still out front. She was supposed to be gone by yesterday. You open the car door, stepping out onto the asphalt. You follow behind Soap, he walks up to the door and tries to use his key to unlock it, but it doesn’t unlock it.

“Fucking hell. She changed the fucking locks.” He growls. “You make the payment, bust a window or something.” You say. “Nah.” He pushes you back, raising his foot and kicking the door until it busts open, hitting the wall and shaking violently. You jump a little bit at how angry he has become. “What the hell!” You hear a woman cry. You are inside behind Soap. “Get your shit and get out.” He growls. “Fuck you John. I’m not moving. This is my house too.” He laughs, a bitter laugh. “Alright, easy enough. Since it’s your house too, you can start making the payments on it.” She’s clearly pissed off too. “I’ll pack my shit, you can buy another lock for that too.” She glares at you. “What is she doing here?” She growls. You smile at her, stepping toward her, your nose only a few centimeters from hers. “I’m here to keep you in line.” You smirk. Johnny smiles, turning his head to walk back into his bedroom. You step away from her, following him back. She follows close behind you. He picks up a duffle bag, digging through the drawers, packing up everything he can think of. “This is so ridiculous. I asked for an open relationship.” She crosses her arms, pouting like a toddler. “You only asked for an open relationship because you were already screwing someone else.” Soap shakes his head. You lean against the door.

“Are you staying with her?” She seethes. “Yes. I am.”

“I’m not okay with that.”

“Okay? We aren’t together so I’ll do as I please.”

“I always knew she’d come between us.”

Soap pauses, looking at her. “She isn’t what did this. You did this. You’re a cheating slut, and it’s your fault.” He shakes his head, lifting his bag up. He’d gathered everything of his by now. What little amount of clothes he had, things out of his bathroom, the rest she could have. He didn’t give a shit. He’s digging through his nightstand, and you’re still where you were with your arms crossed. “Johnny, please don’t leave.” She cries. He shakes his head. “John!” She cries, latching onto his arm. “You can’t leave me for her.”

“She’s my coworker. And I do mean my actual coworker. I’ve never even looked at her in a sexual way. Because that’s how you’re supposed to treat coworkers. Not go behind your boyfriends back and fuck them.” He pulls his arm from her. “Let’s go Y/N.” He groans, moving past you. You follow behind him, a vase shattering over your head has you bending down, hands on the back of your head. You’re stunned for a moment, feeling wetness on your hands. “Are you fucking crazy?!” Soap shouts at her. “I.. I’m sorry- I-“ She’s trying to explain herself. Soap pulls you into the kitchen. Digging around for a first aid kit. “Don’t Soap, let’s just go.” You groan. He nods his hand, passing you a clean dish towel to hold against it. Nadia follows the both of you outside, “John! You can’t leave me like this! I’m pregnant!” He pauses. “We haven’t had sex in over a year. If you’re pregnant, it’s not mine. He looks over the bed of his truck. He’s completely shocked when you swing at her, fist colliding with her nose, sending her back. She lands on her backside, blood spilling from her nose. “That’s for hitting me with a vase, you crazy bitch.” You mumble, opening the door and climbing into the passenger seat. He climbs into the drivers side, driving away. You shake the hand you’d just hit her with and Soap laughs.

The ride back to your house was quiet. You figured Johnny probably didn’t want to talk anymore than he had to. He’d definitely have to patch you up for that.

—

A couple weeks after everything happened, Johnny realized he didn’t have feelings for Nadia like he thought he did. Being without her, not being tied down. It was almost nice. Not having to check his phone every two seconds to respond or she’d get pissed off. Not having to hear her screaming or crying when they weren’t getting along. It was nice. He just didn’t realize how little feelings he had left for her after everything else. You told Johnny to stay for as long as he needed, and you’d even started clearing out the guest room for him to stay in. He was nice to have around. For the most part you didn’t know he was there. He cleaned up his messes, he helped contribute to the supplies in your house, offered to help pay the bills. Of course you wouldn’t let him. But him offering made you feel better. Johnny knew a different version of you than he thought. He seen the walls built up, the thick skinned version of you in the military. But outside of it, you were fun. Went out clubbing with your friends, all kinds of stuff. It started out as fun. Johnny would give you tips on the outfits you wore. Usually tight dresses. Which was a drastic difference from the uniform he was used to you wearing.

Johnny liked being alone in your house at first, but eventually it started to feel different. He didn’t like that you’d rather go out clubbing, probably finding random men to hook up with when he was here. He could keep you company, not them. It took Johnny a couple months of it to realize what was going on. He was starting to grow feelings for you. He kicked himself for it. This went on for a while. Johnny would admire you from afar, and you’d be completely oblivious. Johnny was sitting impatiently on your couch. You were meant to be going out tonight and the thought of you meeting another man ate him up on the inside. But to his surprise, you come down the stairs wearing pajamas. “Thought you were going out?” He asks confused. You laugh, “I’m tired of going out. Those girls have dragged me out more these last couple months than ever.” You smile. “What exactly do you do? Just dance around and drink all night?” He asks. “Um.. kinda. I usually hide in a booth in the back and let them buy me drinks.” You laugh. “Sounds boring.” He laughs. “It is boring.” You sit down next to him on the couch. “Here I was, thinking you were having the time of your life, random hookups, dancing.” He laughs. “Oh god no.” You scrunch your face up. “Johnny have you met me? I’m no man-eater.” You laugh. “What?” He looks confused. “What, you jealous or something?” You joke. But he goes quiet. You turn your head to look at him. “Uh.. here is where you fire back? I’m just screwing with you.” You laugh.

He laughs it off, trying his best to hide how he’s feeling. “How are you Johnny?” You ask. “Oh, I’m great. You know.. my roomate goes out partying and wakes me up at ungodly hours of the night, you know. Awesome.” He laughs. “You can sleep in my bed when I’m not here.” You roll your eyes. “No, I’m not going to do that.”

“Than don’t complain when I wake you up.” You smile. He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” Your smile falters. “What’s going on Johnny?” He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just.. hate you going out.” You tilt your head, “Johnny. You’re not my boyfriend. I can go out whenever I want. Maybe you should try going out every once in a while. You wouldn’t be so uptight.” you roll your eyes. He laughs bitterly. “Not my fault you have a problem.” He shrugs, you stand up. “What problem do I have hm?”

“Clearly a drinking problem.” You snort. “Oh yeah, because my house is just littered with booze. Right? Oh wait.” You go to walk away. “Don’t know what your problem is Johnny, but you need to fix it. Go get laid or something, asshole.” You mumble, walking away. Johnny gripping your wrist tightly and slamming you into a wall has a gasp leaving your lips. “-the hell MacTavish.” You growl, trying to push him off. He’s so much stronger than you, he doesn’t even budge. He presses his hips into yours and you freeze. “I think you’re right, I do need to get laid. But why would I go out when you’re already here, hm?” His breath is hot on your ear and your cheeks burn. “J-“ a gasp leaves your lips, cutting you off when he lets go for just a second to push your baggy shirt up over your hips. Pushing his hand down your panties. Fingertips brushing over your smooth opening. “Johnny-“ you gasp. “Fuck.. so fucking pretty.” He growls. He’s rubbing circles into your clit, his calloused hands on you causing your heart to thump in your chest. A gasp leaves your lips, when he slides a finger into your opening, body moving up as he pumps it into you. “Thas’ right pretty girl, moan for me.” He attacks your neck with his lips, sucking bruises into your skin. You’re moaning out, pushing your hips forward and moaning out when he adds a second finger. Your eyes are screwed shut and you’re trying to force back to cries that want to leave your lips.

When his lips are finally on yours, he’s needy. Tongue forcing it’s way into your mouth and he’s moaning into the kiss, grinding himself into your thigh. The friction not giving him what he so desperately wants. He draws his hand back, lips still on yours as he lifts you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, arms moving to wrap around his neck as you kiss him fervently. He moves with you, going up the stairs and pushing your bedroom door open, laying you down on the bed. He doesn’t even waste any time by taking his clothes off. Pulling your panties to the side, not bothering to undo his belt or the button on his jeans. Unzipping them and freeing his cock through the hole. He stops for just a second, eyes meeting with yours as he sinks himself right inside of you, a gasp leaving your lips as he fills you to the hilt. Not even another second later, he’s hammering his hips into you. Your bed slamming into the wall with each of his hard thrusts. You’re moaning out, barely keeping yourself together as he fucks himself into you.

“Oh fuck Johnny!” A gasp leaves your lips when his fingers work their way against your sensitive nub. “So fucking tight.” He growls. Leaning down and attacking your neck with his lips and teeth. You can’t keep back the moans anymore, they’re leaving your lips in strings, panting and crying out when he brushes over your spongy spot. He stops for just a second, propping himself up and spitting on the base of his cock. Thrusting back into you, easier with the wetness of his saliva. He tilts his head back, a moan leaving his lips as he finally takes a second to pull his shirt off. Pushing your baggy shirt up over your hips. He pulls it over your head, moaning out at the sight of your exposed chest. “So fucking beautiful. Been waiting months for this.” He growls. Attaching his lips to your nipple. Feeling you moan out and clench down around him. “Oh fuck.” He groans. Johnny spaces out a little more than he should, but he has to think about literally anything else so that he doesn’t cum too fast. But he can’t. The scratching of your nails on his back, your whimpers and cries. It’s too much. “Fuck-“ he grits his teeth. “Going to make me cum so fast, like a pathetic teenager.” He laughs. You try to laugh but it’s hard as he hammers his hips into yours. “We can switch p- ah!” You whimper when he thrusts right into your spongy spot. “Don’t think we’ll need it sweetheart, can feel you clenching around me already.” He smirks. He steadies his thrusts, slowing them and gripping you tight. A cry leaves your lips and he can see how tense you are as he pushes you closer to your high. Pants leave your lips and cries are following. He’s got a steady pace, cock sliding perfectly into every sensitive part on you. “Clenching so tight around me baby.” He grits his teeth, the muscles in his neck clenching up. “Come with me, cum on my cock. Give yourself to me.” He’s holding off, but his dick is twitching. He’s right on the edge.

A mewl leaves your lips and it’s music to his ears. Your pussy clenching down around him, milking his cock. A groan leaves his lips, followed by a string of curses as he reaches his orgasm. Your pussy tightening down, cries falling from your own lips as you hit your own high, milking his cock with each pulse he feels from you. When the both of you are fucked out and sensitive, he slides out of you. Laying down next to you. “Oh fuck.” He groans. A few minutes of silence is broken by him. “I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard.” He breathes. You laugh. “Don’t be. I liked it. Just caught me a little off guard.” You smile. He pulls you into him. You rest your head on his bare chest. “You could’ve told me sooner, you know.” You laugh. “Yeah well. Not exactly a good conversation starter.” He laughs. You roll your eyes.

“I like you a lot Y/N.” He breathes. “You’re not using me as a rebound are you?” You narrow your eyes at him. “No.” He rolls his eyes. “Been thinking about you since the day we came back. Our last mission together and stuff. Thinking about it too much.” He laughs. “Clearly.” You give him a slight shove. He laughs. “Give me a chance. You’re not a rebound.”

“Fine.” You laugh.

You lift yourself up, straddling his hips. He smirks. Leaning up to kiss you. Smiling when you’re tugging your panties to the side to line himself up with your entrance again, moaning into your lips when you sink down onto him again.

“Gonna be the death of me sweetheart.”

[s-4pphics]

more mechanic!ellie x snobbybitch!oc lol i’m kinda obsessed and i missed them ngl 

wc;cw: 765 reaaal cute, oc is a cunt lol, joel slander i love him dont start, ellies a sub, more monologues, dassit

you smashed the second window of your three day old, freshly glossed pink bentley with a metal baseball bat

and you couldn’t be happier! 

not only was ur dad getting you a new car but u were seeing your girlfriend today!

you were giddy with excitement as you went to your contacts and called the number saved as i wanna fuck the freckly girl! 

“YELLO!”… joel… great

yawn…. he’s nice or whatever but yawn 

where’s ur daughter gimme ur daughter

but you put on an act before ur annoyance could come through the phone 

“JOEL HELP ME SOMEONE TRIED TO BREAK INTO MY CAR AND—“

“uh darlin’, i’m not a cop….. you know that right?” 

“no i KNOW but i need repairs on my back window, could you pleaaaaase help me?” 

you sounded honey sweet, he wouldn’t say no to you! 

“uhh sure. you shouldn’t drive it if glass is everywhere, we’ll come pick it up to bring it into the shop.” 

you smirked devilishly 

“thank you sooooo much! you’re a doll! i’ll see you soon?” 

“umm…. it’ll be a few hou—“

you weren’t hearing that, they’re coming now!

“ten minutes?! great! see you then!” 

and you hung up, your heels clicked on your garage floor as u walked into ur fathers marbled kitchen

this calls for a celebratory glass of lemonade! 

u and the devil on ur shoulder clinked glasses

you heard a knock at the door ten minutes later 

but you were already standing there! you ripped it open and was greeted with… joel

sigh

“hey! your car’s pretty messed up, someone went crazy on it, looks lik—“

“yeah it’s sad isn’t it, did ellie come?” 

“pardon?”

“ellie, did she come?” 

“…no…. she’s at the shop” 

“doing what?” 

“she’s…. she’s working. on a car. at the shop.” 

you pouted 

“well, why are we still standing here! let’s go!” 

“uh…. okay.” 

and you smiled as you brushed past him, hopping in the tow truck with a giddy smile on ur face 

you applied more lipgloss and chanel no. 5

u were finally seeing ur girlfriend! 

he tried to make conversation the whole drive here, but you didn’t care about shit he was talking about

“that’s so funny joel! gonna go inside now!” 

and the minute you slammed the truck door and ran inside the garage and glitter obscured ur vision

the love of your life

the only star in ur sky

you felt your pussy clench in your lacy panties

and ur nipples got hard 

she was under the hood of some raggedy ass car and her muscles were out and she was biting her lip and she was covered in filth and u wanted to bend her over and fuck her in front of everyone in here 

wanted to make her scream for u 

wanted to make her cry and beg u to stop—

“why are you standin’ here, darlin’?”

“just sightseeing!” i’m gonna fuck your daughter so hard! 

“alright i’m gonna examine ur car and we’ll have a price for u in a bit.” 

and he left

fucking finally

u walked over to her

she had earphones in so u tapped her shoulder 

she took them out and turned and her face immediately fell 

you were smiling so hard! you were so happy! 

“hi!” 

“…..”

“whatcha up to!”

“….”

“did u miss me!” 

“you’re fucking crazy.” 

she’s making you wetter

she was so dirty, u wanna make her dirtier

u wanna ride her fucking face—

“what the fuck r u staring at?” 

“you. you look so cute right now.” 

she scowled harder, but u caught that pink tint on her face 

mhm, u knew she liked u

“take a break!” 

“the fuck r u talking about?” 

“ellie.” 

and her expression changed at ur serious tone. a little intimidated. a little scared. 

“take a break.” 

she blushed harder 

and u held her gaze 

hers flicked down to ur mouth

minemineminemine—

she put the tool she was holding down on the side table before she turned to look at u

u saw that little glint in her eye as she scanned you up n down. you want her you want her 

u took a step closer 

and closer and closer 

until u were right in front of her

her heavy breaths were hitting ur nose and you wanted fuck her now!

“where’s the bathroom?” 

her breath hitched and u heard it 

“um..”

“mhm?” 

“in the back.” 

the devil on ur shoulder applauded u 

“show me.” 

and she nodded shakily

you grinned like a kid in a candy store!

u loved ur girlfriend so much!

theyre gonna fuck so hard l8r lol

p.2 to this

[imajinxnation]

Hi! So I have two ideas for request on my mind. I will not ask you to fulfill two requests, I will be glad to read one of them.

So it’s up to you. Love your writing.

1. Constantine teaching Reader a magical skill, creating a heartwarming and intimate moment as they share knowledge and connect on a deeper level.

2. Constantine surprises Reader with a handcrafted magical charm or artifact that he created, imbued with protective and loving enchantments, symbolizing his commitment and affection.

Soft For You

John Constantine(2005) x Reader

SUMMARY // It's your birthday and your boyfriend got you a present.. What could it be??

TW // Fluff, Cussing, Slight Angst..

THIS!!!! I'M SO SOFT FOR HIM AGGGHHHHH!!!!

This is short and sweet cause I couldn't think of any other storyline..

ALL GIFS FROM PINTEREST

Unfortunately, you woke up alone in bed this morning. Great way to start your birthday! You were hoping to get some morning cuddles from your boyfriend, but only felt cold sheets beside you. Seems he had been out of bed for awhile. You went searching your apartment for him, but he was nowhere to be found, no note, no nothing.

Upset, you made yourself breakfast, suddenly not feeling very celebratory about turning a year older. You quickly eat your breakfast before deciding to go for a walk, needing some fresh air, hoping it would keep your mind off your absent boyfriend. On your walk, you noticed a stray cat on top of a trash can. You smiled and walked over cautiously, wanting to see if it was friendly and would let you pet it, luckily it was, and appreciated the pets.

"You know, one day he's gonna tell me when he leaves to do a job and NOT leave me high and dry.." You sigh, realizing you're talking to a fucking cat.

You stop petting the cat and head back to your apartment, the walk wasn't helping with your thoughts. Soon enough, you get back home and open the door.. wait. You locked the door when you left.

"John? You back?" You ask loudly as you close the door behind you.

"Yeah, just... uh, gimme a minute, I'll be right there!" He calls back.

You let out a breath of relief, glad it was just John and not someone who broke in. You set your jacket on the coat rack and left your shoes by the door. You're curious as to what he could be doing right now, and just as your about to head to your bedroom to check on him, he comes out, hands behind his back, as if hiding something.

You tilt your head, curious at what he had in his hands that he was hiding from me.

"Whatcha got there, John?" You gesture to him and what he has behind his back.

"..Nothing.." He replies.

You narrow your eyes at him and launch at him, trying to see what he has that he's acting suspitious about. He moves away and fights back, not letting you see for a second what he has.

"Baby (Girl/Boy), stop it, it's really nothing special!" He laughs, slightly nervous.

"If it's nothing special, then why are you trying so hard to hide it? Is this another one of your artifacts? You usually don't hide them here.." You reach behind him, but he avoids your grasp easily.

"Okay! Here, you can see, Jesus.." He throws the artifact to you. You catch it easily, quick reflexes tested, still working.

It's small and has the shape of a dog whistle, but with a chain and clasp to wear it. You turn it around and notice the markings on it, your thumb feeling the indents of where the metal was carved into.

"It's enchanted with a protection spell.. I enchanted it. Uh, you can also open it and put something inside if you want," he stratches the back of his neck, nervous about your reaction.

"..You made this?" You ask, your eyes flickering from the necklace to your flustered looking boyfriend.

"I just enchanted it and did the engravings, that's all.. Happy Birthday.." He says quietly, embarrassed.

You smile widely when he says those two words, eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas day. He's not paying attention when you hug him tightly, and end up making him jump from the sudden contact.

"Thank you, Babes, I love it," You tell him.

His eyes soften while you aren't looking, but still, he gives a nonchalant response.

"Yeah, yeah, you fuckin' sap," he says, facial expressions not matching his words, especially as he ruffles your hair. He rolls his eyes, but a soft smile graces his face, relieved you like his gift.

[party-hearses]

i am a nightmare, you are a miracle // 2

not a saint, but do I have to be?

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader, ex!Tommy Miller x f!reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

Summary: After your two year relationship with Tommy Miller ends, Joel takes you in — and it’s home like you’ve never quite known before.

Series Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, language, infidelity, eventual smut, age difference, soft!joel, AU - no cordyceps outbreak, Sarah doesn’t exist (sorry), Tommy stans don’t come for me, some mention of mental illness (nothing named, but it’s hinted at), competency kink, praise kink, alcohol, some recollections of verbal abuse, I guess? mutual forbidden pining for suuure. Let me know if I’m missing anything!

Wordcount: 8.7 k

A/N: I feel like this took me FOREVER. Life uh, uh, got in the way — or, my summer classes started and I’ve been reading Tennyson instead of writing. But gimme feedback! Unless it will make me cry.

You stand, shifting your weight from foot to foot, in front of the bed in Joel’s guest room.

You’d been in the room plenty of times before — when you and Tommy had had too much to drink at a barbecue, when you’d used the ensuite bathroom during parties, when Tommy had needed to borrow something stashed away in the closet. But this time is different, and that difference is palpable.

The room itself is comfortable, with a tidy dresser opposite the bed, and a small nightstand next to it. It’s plenty spacious for you, and simply standing inside those four walls makes you feel so grateful you could burst. It’s more than you need — more than you deserve.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you survey the boxes on the ground around you. Unpacking them feels…too familiar; like this is still a dream that you could snap out of any second. Like Joel could return from wherever he is and tell you that this isn’t right. The idea overwhelms you, and you have to bite your tongue to vanquish the thought.

The boxes can wait. The unpacking can wait. You want to be — need to be — sure that it’s okay; that this is real. You bend at the waist, rummaging through the box nearest you, fingers grasping to find a sleep shirt near the bottom. It’s soft to the touch from years of washing and wearing and the threads being pulled at in desperate attempts to get it off of your body and be discarded on the floor. You crumple it in your fist.

Stepping into the ensuite bathroom, you switch the shower on the hottest setting. As the steam curls around the room, you’re overcome again with Joel’s generosity. Even if he, for whatever reason, does ask you to leave in the morning, or the minute he gets home, or in two weeks — just getting out of Tommy’s place will have been enough. Rescued from your doom of playing and replaying and doing and redoing. A perpetual cycle of never leaving because you’ve only ever been left. The spell broken.

As you wash your hair, you assure yourself that whatever amount of time spent in this house, in this room, as little as it may be, you will carve out this tiny corner of peace for yourself.

The scalding water washes over you, conditioner cascading down the ends of your hair to circle the drain, and you feel baptized. Cleansed. The spell broken, if only for a night.

You wake, hours later, to the muted thud of Joel’s boots on the hardwood of the entryway. Eyelids heavy, you keep them closed, stirring only slightly — readjusting beneath the thin sheets that entangle your limbs. He’s quiet in taking his boots off, but you listen fixedly as he enters the kitchen and turns on the faucet. Watching him from the inside of your eyelids like a movie, tracing the steps you know he’s taking, your blood hums in recognition of something — something you can’t name, but something that tugs at your lungs in the most pleasant way.

He moves around the kitchen, quietly opening and closing cabinets, moving and shifting and existing naturally in the space he’s created for himself. The sounds soothe you — balm to a burn you didn’t know was there — and you feel the languid lure of sleep again.

Just before it takes you completely, he’s there, on the other side of the door, pausing before continuing down the hallway to his own room. The pleasant hum of your blood turns to a resounding symphony, and your breath catches in your chest. You stay completely still, ears attuned to any movement he makes — but he moves on, padding almost silently to his door.

And like you had imagined it all, slumber claims you.

For the first time in weeks, you sleep deeply enough to dream.

The alarm you set for the morning never has the chance to go off, your eyes flicking open naturally moments before the soft vibrations would have roused you.

It should feel strange — waking up here, in Joel’s guest room, alone. But as you brush your teeth, throw your hair up in a ponytail, and dress quietly, you sit with how normal it feels.

At least, you remind yourself, for the time being.

Joel isn’t awake yet, the sun barely beginning to soak through the curtains in the kitchen. You inhale the silence of the house, glancing at the spot where he had stopped outside of your room the previous night. Had he? Had you dreamt it? Had you so blurred the seam between fantasy and reality in the same way you had pictured — nearly felt — his hands across your collarbones—

You bite your tongue so hard you taste the rich iron of blood, the cold metal of pennies.

Guilt burns crimson across your cheeks as the room closes in on you. Stumbling to the front door, you pull it open, gasping for air as you cross the threshold.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You drop your elbows to your knees, head down, panting for breath.

Forbidden. Wicked girl. Forbidden. Obscene. Forbidden.

Head low, you trace the words on your palm as you say them to yourself, repeating the ritual until your chest slowly opens back up. There’s a light sheen of sweat covering your forehead, though you know it’s not from the early-morning, late-summer sun, still climbing the horizon.

Straightening your body, you subtly shake the tension from your limbs, rolling your shoulders back and unfolding your coiled muscles. Your last run had been nearly six months ago, but you ache for the rush of endorphins and reprieve of a clear head.

Especially now, you think, with a subtle glance back at the house.

How shameful it is, to hunger for something which you cannot taste.

The sun fully up when you return, you let yourself in the still-unlocked front door. Bending down to untie the laces of your running shoes, you are assured to hear movement in the kitchen. A vision of Joel standing outside your door flashes again in your brain, and you shake your head to scramble the thought.

When you enter the kitchen, he’s at the table, coffee mug in one hand, newspaper in the other. His eyes are trained on the text, and you stop in the doorframe to steady your nerves. Your hands find each other, subconsciously kneading one inside the other.

Sensing you, Joel folds the newspaper just enough to meet your eye line. He doesn’t immediately say anything, so you don’t, either. You can’t read his face, but you can feel a heated flush creeping up yours.

“Coffee?”

“Please,” your voice is quiet, and you pray it doesn’t betray you.

He sets the newspaper down, moving to get up, but you quickly stride further into the room.

“No! I can get it. Please, let me.”

With an arch of his eyebrows, he sinks back into his chair with his hands up in surrender.

“Mugs are there,” he nods to a cabinet behind you, and you quickly turn your back to him and hold your breath while your hands move mechanically to open the cabinet door. Get your shit together. It’s just Joel.

Breathing out slowly, you grab the first mug you see, turning to delicately cross the kitchen toward the drip coffee machine. With trembling hands, you raise the pot, filling the mug, and set it back down with a silent expression of gratitude to whatever god that you hadn’t shattered it with your shaking.

You lean back against the counter and bring the mug to your lips, eyeing Joel’s broad back and shoulders. His hair is tousled, just out of bed, dark curls threaded with silver — more than the last time you had seen him.

He twists to face you, a quizzical look splayed across his features, brows furrowed.

“You can, ya know, sit down at the table. Like a normal person.”

A breathless laugh escapes your lips, but you acquiesce, rounding the table and sliding into the seat opposite him.

Seemingly satisfied, he brings the newspaper back up to cover his face. The silence settles between you comfortably, but your skin buzzes with the proximity to him. You can’t help but glance again and again at his large hands, holding the newspaper — eyes sliding over the way his fingers curve around the edges gently.

The coffee is a welcome distraction, though you’d have to remember to pick up some creamer for yourself. Dropping your eyes to the table, a thought strikes you, and you shift uncomfortably in the seat. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel.

“Somethin’ on your mind, Peach?”

He sets the newspaper flat on the table, folding it back into itself. You feel his gaze on you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet it.

Neither of you says anything for a moment, the seconds ticking by slowly enough that you begin to count them. You instead study the woodgrain of the table, the single crack in the handle of the coffee mug before you.

“You’re actin’ like a skittish cat.”

His assertion surprises, and for some reason, amuses you.

“A…skittish…cat?” A small smile plays across your lips as you raise your head.

He shrugs. “I know we’re not like, the best a’ friends, but this,” he waves his hand in the air toward you, “isn’t the Peach I know. You’re jumpin’ at every move I make.”

You laugh gently before sighing. “It’s been a really strange couple of weeks. I’m… really trying to find my footing as a ‘single person’ again.”

He nods thoughtfully, mouth fixed in a frown, waiting for you to go on.

“And…and I just don’t know how to do this.”

“This?”

You shift in your chair again, fingers oh so gently tracing the sides of the coffee mug. “Like, just now, I thought about needing to buy myself cream for my coffee. But then, I thought about how I don’t know if I can just…start putting things in the fridge? And then that made me think about how meals will look. Like, dinner in shifts, or…something? Do I avoid you? I just don’t…know how to navigate this. Living here,” you drop your voice to barely a whisper, “or you regretting allowing me to stay here at all.”

Joel leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes are drawn to the way the sleeves of his white t-shirt strain against his biceps, but you look away quickly, instead focusing your gaze on the clock above the stove behind him.

“I’m not allowin’ you to stay here, I’m askin’ you to stay here.”

His voice is smooth, his words wrapping around your rib cage and squeezing gently.

“But why, Joel? Tommy is your brother,” you mumble, “I’m just some girl. You don’t owe me anything.”

His eyes darken as he shakes his head. “You are not some girl. A smart girl, with a good head on her shoulders, a career? Tommy hit the jackpot,” his tone softens even further, though you didn’t think it possible. “I saw what you did for him. Showed up for him, every time. Kept his head on straight. Kept him on his toes. Challenged him, bettered him. And he…repaid you by fuckin’ it all up extraordinarily. You’re owed better ‘n that, and if he won’t do it… ” he trails off.

You swallow hard. “He’s impulsive. I’ve always known that about him.”

Joel laughs, but it’s devoid of humor. “You don’t need to keep defendin’ him. You’re allowed to be mad. You should be mad.”

“‘Sides,” he says, picking his coffee mug up and taking a sip, “He fucked me over, too. Makin’ an ass of himself just to get in bed with a client. Givin’ a bad name, a bad reputation, to the company I’ve worked my ass off for. So I guess you could say that havin’ you be the one to stay here was logical.” He emphasizes the final word of his sentence, jutting his plush bottom lip out in a mock pout.

You pull your own bottom lip into your mouth, chewing gently.

He’d hurt you both. You and Joel Miller, parallel cracks in concrete facades - show me yours, and I’ll show you mine. The guilt of being too consumed by your own sadness builds in your chest again.

Wicked girl.

“I- I’m sorry. That it affected you, too,” you say slowly, your words measured. “You shouldn’t have had to let him stay here.”

Joel lowers his head, rubbing a large palm over his mouth thoughtfully. “I did, t’be honest. I couldn’t handle the thought of him bein’ around you…convincin’ you that he could make it up to you. I felt like…like it was my job to protect you from that, and it felt easier to have him here to do it. I know how persuasive he can be.”

Without your permission, white heat gathers between your thighs. Your tongue is thick in your mouth, and you’re confident — entirely sure — that you are not correctly processing what he’s saying to you. It makes you feel off balance, and you wrap your fingers tightly around the edge of the table for a grasp of something solid.

It doesn’t help, and the words escape your mouth before you can stop them.

“Did you know?”

He looks dismayed, immediately leaning forward, molten eyes penetrating yours. “Absolutely fuckin’ not.”

A ball of emotion lodges in your throat. You hadn’t anticipated getting into the thick of it with Joel so quickly, laying it all on the table in front of you the first morning. Wading through the shrapnel of your previous life.

You nod one two three times, blinking back tears.

He leans back again, studying you for a moment. Letting you swallow what he’s handed you - letting you digest it.

“As for the fridge…you can put anythin’ you damn well please in there.”

Unwrapping your fingers from the table and pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes, you laugh shakily.

He pauses. Then,

“I’m serious, darlin’. I want you to be comfortable. Not like, hotel comfortable, but home comfortable,” he leans across the table, gently taking your jaw between his thumb and index finger. Making sure you’re focused on him. That you’re hearing him. Your skin sparks — damn near sizzles — where it meets his, and your lips part every so slightly in marvel at his grip. “I don’t know what this will look like, either. But I want to figure it out together. Me ‘n you. Okay?” His voice is husky, as if he’s sharing a secret with you. Entering into a covenant together. Sacred.

His eyes are aflame - searching yours intently.

“Me and you,” you repeat, soft and supplicant. Obedient.

“Good girl.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s dropped his hand from your face and angled his body away from you. You dig your fingernails into your palm beneath the table, desperate for a distraction from the ache growing in your core.

Casually, he brings his coffee to his lips again, softly murmuring, “Told me you found his emails.”

It’s followed by a scoff, and you detect the condescension, the disgust. His nostrils flair just slightly. “I don’t even know anyone who uses email like that anymore.”

The image of Tommy’s emails, those words, douses the growing wildfire in the pit of your stomach. Distraction granted.

Bringing your own coffee up to your mouth, you reply, “Probably the same people who still read newspapers at the breakfast table.”

The cursor of your mouse blinks tauntingly in the empty cell of your spreadsheet. Your fingers are poised over the keyboard, the machinations of your brain refusing to cooperate. Every number is just a stupid fucking number and none of them matter when Joel’s hands were on you mere hours ago.

Good girl.

You press your thighs together in your pencil skirt as the words flash in front of your eyes. The pull you feel transcends surface-level attraction; it feels primal. Necessary. Inescapable and relentless. And so, so wrong.

Wicked girl.

Like an old nemesis, those words echo in your ears, contrition nudging desire out of the frame of your mind.

Being distracted at work isn’t a feeling you’re familiar with.

Even back in grade school, you’d possessed laser focus when it came to completing a task. Neatly, efficiently, perfectly. Now, long hours spent in your cubicle for a shot at the corner office; then, spending all night at the kitchen table buried in math notes to prepare for a quiz. It makes you feel complete, in a way that nothing else does, to accomplish.

Your mother’s cold words drowned out by teacher’s praises, by Kit’s warm hands rubbing your back under the cover of darkness. Your sister’s motherly instincts developed young, raising you — you, the perfect amalgamation of quiet and wild. Never in trouble at school, always in trouble at home.

“I know. I’m so sorry. Jackson asked me to stay, to get this account tied up by tonight. We can get drinks tomorrow instead?”

A telling pause.

“You gonna be home at all?” Tommy’s choked response.

Silence. He knew that meant that he’d be drinking beers in front of the television by himself all night.

“Might go out, then.”

You should have seen it coming. You should have seen it coming.

Never leaving because you’ve only ever been left. Kit marrying so very young and starting a family as soon as she could; your mom dying from the illness that made her vapid and unhappy; your friends going off to college states away from home; your dad a shadow by the time you turned five.

Tommy, checking out emotionally without you even noticing.

Finding respite in numbers and equations and your boss smiling, “pulled us out of a tough spot, kid.” Letting work swallow you in order to avoid, avoid, avoid.

Keeping the world at a distance. Keeping Tommy at a distance.

But Tommy had been exciting; his stupidwarm grin unshackling your steadfast demeanor, pulling you by the hand through the crowd vibrating with drinks and music and abandoned delight the night you met.

“You’re so cerebral,” his breath in your ear, praise igniting you.

The world tilting just so — the things he thought he loved about you becoming the things that drove you apart.

And here you find yourself again, in front of a stupid fucking spreadsheet.

It’s not even that you find your work terribly important — you’re but a loose bolt in a complete machine — but everything, every number, has a home and a purpose, and that notion has always settled your nerves. Everything fitting neatly into boxes in a way that eludes you — in a way that you’ve never experienced.

But now, it’s less than important — it’s not even remotely intriguing. The contentment you’re accustomed to feeling has shifted into disdain for daring to turn your thoughts away from the events of the morning.

It’s all very confusing, if you’re being honest with yourself. Taking a step back to examine the situation twists your stomach into knots. You barely know Joel, and the little you do know is in the context of him being your ex-boyfriend’s older brother. A quiet mystery, always tucked in the corner of the room, nursing a beer or glass half-full of whiskey. Existing on the same plane had only ever happened because of Tommy, so his kindness, his offering, makes your head spin. You don’t know how long it will last.

“Everyone knows what a selfish girl you are.” Your mother’s snarl in the chill of the morning, her breath soft white puffs against the dark. An emotional grim reaper. “And if they don’t know now, it won’t take long.”

Joel’s smart. He’ll see it in time, that malignant streak inside of you. The one that had killed your mother, that had pushed everyone else away. That will eventually push Joel away.

You don’t know when Tommy had caught on, but you had always known it was inevitable —knew that it was just a matter of time between the way he looked at you the night you met, the sincerity in his voice the afternoon he had asked you to move in, and the lust you imagined in his blown-out pupils when he looked at someone else’s naked form beneath him.

And now Joel. Showing you an openness, a softness, that you didn’t think he possessed. Your guilt wrapping like vines around the butterflies in your belly, suffocating them. The guilt of taking Joel up on his offer. Of letting him be kind to you. Of returning that kindness with a distinct hunger.

You pick the bulky office phone up out of the cradle, dialing the only extension you know by heart. Ava picks up on the second ring, her tone bored and distracted as she goes through the motions, “Accounts Payable, this is Ava.”

“Av, it’s me.”

You can’t help but chuckle lightly at her brazen disinterest in answering her phone.

“Oh thank god. I couldn’t handle another call about actually paying accounts.”

You imagine her rolling her eyes, and it fills you with the strangest sense of gratitude.

“Do you have plans tonight?”

“Nothing I can’t blow off. Why? What’s up?”

You close your eyes, a smile across your mouth. Dependable Ava — always down for a party.

“I was thinking…that it’s been a while since we went out. Maybe drinks? Dancing? Something to…help me think less?”

You smile to yourself, hoping she can hear it in your voice.

She doesn’t even try to suppress her squeal of delight, before a muffled, “Shut up, Belinda! Can’t you see I’m on the phone?”

You laugh out loud this time. Ava’s mortal enemy being a sixty-two year old secretary in the cubicle next to her never fails to amuse you.

“Silas and I will pick you up around 9? He can DD tonight.”

“Sound perfect, Av. I’ll be ready.”

Her voice, closer to the mouthpiece of the phone now. A whisper for only you. It sends warmth through the synapses of your brain. “If this isn’t a return to form, doll, I don’t know what is.”

True to her word, Ava and Silas show up in his car at 9 o’clock on the dot.

Joel hadn’t been home yet when you arrived, and you couldn’t decide if you were disappointed or eased by his absence. You’d heard the door open and close from your place in the bathroom a little over an hour later, but neither of you moved to greet the other.

Donning a silky black slip dress that hugs your curves just right, your breasts all but spilling out over the top, and chunky black platforms, you feel invincible. Sexy. Wicked.

Leaning forward in the mirror to apply your dark currant-colored lipstick, there’s a light knock at the door.

Without moving your lips, lest you ruin your lipstick, you manage a mangled come in just loud enough for Joel to hear and open the door.

“He-“ His eyes widen as they land on your form, and you clock the way his breath catches in his throat. Something akin to pride swells in you, desire following it. You shove the feeling down, as deep as possible.

Turning just enough, hand still raised to your lips, you meet his eyes.

He blinks a few times. Struggles to put words together. “Goin’ out?” He finally spits.

You hum in affirmation. Then, dropping your hand to your waist, “Is that okay? I won’t be out crazy late. And I’ll be quiet when I get back.”

His brows knit together as he leans against the doorframe. You can’t help but take in how big he is, arm crooked with one thumb through his belt loop — and for a brief second, you hesitate to leave the house at all.

He must catch the reluctance transcribed across your face, because he damn near smirks. “Not worried about you bein’ loud or late.”

Turning back to the mirror, you softly respond, “Just wanna make sure I’m being considerate.”

“Never seen you be anythin’ but, Peach.”

His praise coats you from the inside out, warm as sunshine. You bask in it.

Then, Silas honks the horn from the driveway, and the real world comes crashing down around the two of you.

Grabbing your bag from the floor, you stride towards Joel, still in the doorway. He shifts to let you pass, but gently catches your wrist in his large hand.

You stop, turning back to look up at him through your eyelashes, heart beating rapidly in your chest. You’re sure he can feel it at the pulse point in your wrist. He’s close enough that his heady scent makes your thoughts hazy. Dark, moody — just like him. He swipes his thumb back and forth across your flesh, absentmindedly.

“Be safe, okay, darlin’? Call me if you need to.”

His voice is silk. You want to wrap yourself up in it, lean into him.

Instead, you nod, swallowing hard. “Will do.”

He mirrors your expression, pulling his fingers back from your skin.

You walk to the door, heart still racing from his touch, him awkwardly trailing you. Stopping just short of it, you rifle through your bag to make sure you have everything. He opens the door for you, wrapping his fist around the bulk of it as he pauses. He clears his throat, drawing your attention to him.

“You, uh, deserve this. A night out. To not think about it.”

He’s awkward in a way you’ve never seen before, usually so sure of himself.

Your cheeks burn, but you can’t help but give him a small smile.

“Thank you. For everything. Seriously. I don’t think I’ve had the chance to say that, yet.”

He nods, not meeting your eyes.

As you step through the doorway, not wanting to keep Ava and Silas waiting any longer, you almost miss what he says next. But it stops you, and you look back at him for confirmation. Just to be sure. His eyes, finally meeting yours again, reiterate it.

“You look great, Peach.”

It feels like you float to Silas’ car. You slide in the backseat, watching Joel close the door through the windshield.

“So glad you could finally join us!” Ava coos, twisting in the passenger seat to look at you. “What took so long?”

She’s teasing, but you know she’s dying to know; that she watched your entire interaction from the car.

You sigh, long and laborious. “Trying really, really hard not to want to fuck my ex’s brother.”

Forbidden burns across the tender flesh of your belly.

The dance floor is packed. Bodies writhing against each other, the music vibrating any lingering thoughts out of your head.

“Let’s get drinks, first.”

Ava’s voice in your ear, her hands on your arms. Steering you towards the bar. She’s lit up multi-colored by the lights bouncing around the room, perfect mouth forming words you can’t hear as the bartender leans in closer and closer to her. Silas, off to her other side, scanning the room. His hand on her lower back.

You do the same, taking in your surroundings. Ava is half-draped over the bar, giggling at the bartender while he mixes shots. You feel amazing in your dress, catching the eyes of different men as they pass. One wolf-whistles at you, and you drop your head to cover the intense blush covering your cheeks.

As hot as you feel, you also feel out of practice. Clubs had never been Tommy’s scene, his preference being dive bars with pool tables and cheap beer. You’d still gone out with Ava occasionally, all too pleased to utter I have a boyfriend to any man who got a little too comfortable. Those encounters feel like entire lifetimes away, now.

Ava turns to you, two blue concoctions in her hands. She quirks her brow, handing you one. “Bottoms up!” she encourages, clinking her glass to yours.

The liquor, too-sweet and nearly syrupy, slides down your throat and settles in your stomach. Silas grins at you from behind Ava, his hands migrating to clasp around her hips.

“D’you wanna dance?” her voice is loud over the music. You nod intently, matching Silas’ grin.

“One more shot?”

Ava pokes her tongue between her teeth in affirmation, and your heart leaps. Joel was right. You do deserve this.

It’s your turn to slide up to the bar, and you curl your fingers around the edge and thrust your top half over, bouncing on the toes of your platforms. It doesn’t take much to catch the bartender’s eye, and he makes his way back to you.

“What’ll ya have, darlin’?” he leans into you, but you’re not sure if it’s to hear you better or to get closer.

“Two more of whatever she just ordered!”

You hook your thumb backwards at Ava, and the bartender nods. He pulls a handful of different liquor bottles from the well up to the top of the bar, and begins measuring the contents of each one out into a shaker.

He looks up at you, asking a question, but you don’t catch it.

“What?” you lean further in, trying to hear him.

“You from around here?” he asks again, his eyes flickering between you and the bottles in his hands. He has a half-smile on his face, playful and charming.

Pressing your lips together in the slightest of pouts, you consider your next move. The bartender is lanky, but cute, and you watch the way his hands move while he pours your drinks into glasses. You can’t help but compare them to Joel’s hands, big and calloused and holding your jaw just firmly enough.

The corners up your mouth quirk up in a sultry smile at the memory, and you snake the glasses from the bartop just as the bartender finishes pouring and pushes them forward.

You lean in a final time, clocking the way his eyes fall to your chest. Voice low, you finally respond to his question.

“Nah, just visiting.”

He chuckles, nodding graciously, accepting defeat, while he steps back from the bar. “Have fun tonight, darlin’,” he shouts over the music, and with a wink, you turn back to Ava and Silas.

Silas, who has caught the whole interaction, gives you a geeky thumbs up. Ava takes one of the drinks from your hands, nudging it against the glass in your other.

“Cheers to finally being the baddest bitch in the room, again.”

The shot goes down easy, and you’re led onto the dance floor as soon as you’ve swallowed it.

Ava spins and dips you, and you laugh so hard you can’t breathe. It doesn’t matter that her silly dance moves don’t match the heavy bass of the music, because Ava is Ava and it’s impossible not to get caught up in her aura.

Silas is off to the side of the dance floor, chatting with some friends from work that he’s run into. He’s been in charge of refilling your drinks, per Ava, and you haven’t had an empty hand all night.

The booze licks against your skin, flushed and sweat damp, and all you’re focused on is how good everything feels. So you don’t hesitate when one of Silas’ friends cuts in on your dance with Ava, extending his hand to you. You giggle and grin, nearly feverish with happiness. It’s a foreign feeling, but one that seems to satisfy the whispers normally residing in your brain.

Silas’s friend drags your body close to him, pressing his chest into yours. His hands find your waist, and you transition easily from dancing with Ava to swaying your body with his. He’s taller than you, even with your platforms on, and you shiver when he leans down to whisper into the shell of your ear.

“I’m Peter.”

He’s handsome, in a rough-around-the-edges kind of way. The kind of boy you would have brought home just to piss your mother off. Sharp angles and a piercing tongue.

He’ll do, for the night.

“Hi, Peter.”

You raise your chin to his shoulder, your speech lilted. “I’m celebrating a break up.”

“Celebrating, huh?”

He raises an eyebrow, face bathed in blue light. His smile is coy - dangerous.

“Celebrating. Silas’s been buying my drinks all night in honor of what a party it is.”

You gesture with your head in the direction of your friends, now dancing with each other across the floor.

“Maybe I could join the party, buy you a drink? In honor of the celebration, of course.”

Peter’s hands are warm on your hips, his lips just brushing the wild strands of hair framing your face. You relax into his touch, relishing in the way his fingers splay across the space between your waist and back.

Tilting your head to the side, a smirk plays lightly across your lips. “S’that what brought you over here?”

“That, and the way you look in that dress.”

His fingers tighten around you sharply, and the delicious sting of it makes your breathing quicken.

You slowly place the very tip of your tongue on the pillow of your top lip. His gaze traces the movement, and you watch as his eyes darken.

“Would’ve kicked myself later if I didn’t shoot my shot,” he continues, eyes still fixed to your mouth.

“So you’re out here, taking advantage of poor girls who just dumped their cheating boyfriends?” your voice drips with sardonic teasing. Eyes wide as orbs, doe-like and innocent, looking up at Peter’s height through your lashes.

“Figured your defenses would be down, might have a chance,” he smirks. “Know I wouldn’t, otherwise.”

Your cheeks heat under his intense gaze, and you’re unsure what to say. There’s viscous penitence on the flat of your tongue, knowing, in the deepest part of you, that it’s not Peter you want to undo you.

But you want - need - to get out of your own head, and he touches you like he can feel the painful ache inside of you.

It occurs to you that you’ve both stopped moving to the music, though his hands are still on you. They feel heavy in a bittersweet way — desired but detested, all at the same time. His face remains inches away from yours.

“Can’t promise that it’s your lucky night,” you mumble.

“It doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be,” he whispers back, lifting your chin with his fingers to rake his eyes over you. His stare is fiery, ravenous.

The thrill of it - all of it - rushes down the knobs of your spine, straight to your cunt.

You can’t remember the last time someone looked at you that way, like they wanted to devour you. And god, how you want to be devoured. To be consumed. All gnashing teeth and licking tongues and searching, bruising hands.

You’re only half aware of who the hands on you don’t belong to.

Obscene.

Your mother’s words spur you on, this time, as you thread your fingers through Peter’s hair at the back of his head, urging it towards you. He’s quick to respond, meeting your lips with his in a collision. You wish she could see you, now.

As he licks into your mouth, his hands slide down to the curve of your ass, and you shiver. The enormity of your need to be wanted by anyone clouds your vision; your focus acutely tuned to the way Peter’s body feels against yours.

That selfish, cruel streak inside of you lights up iridescent, and you let yourself take and take and take until you’re breathless.

Peter swallows your soft moans into his mouth as he inches one hand up to the length of your hair, wrapping it in his palm and tugging gently.

You’re past thinking, allowing yourself to just do, to just feel. There are stars in your eyes as he leads you away from the dance floor, through the door to the patio, and presses you against the brick wall of the building, vibrating from the music pounding inside. The night air is tepid, smoke from the few people sucking down cigarettes hanging thick above you. You inhale deeply, anyway — a glutton for punishment.

His lips are hot on the column of your neck, hips pressed flush to yours. You feel his tongue lave over your flesh, frenzied and desperate.

Be careful, okay, darlin’?

Joel’s words hit you like a slap in the face. It’s sobering, the molecules of your brain suddenly realigning — dragging you back from the precipice of your indulgence. Your mother’s voice nagging at the back of your brain is a relic — old hat, to be expected, always. But Joel’s deep baritone in its place surprises you, makes you reflexively set your hands against the barrel of Peter’s chest and push.

He either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t understand. You need to make him understand.

“Peter,” His name leaves your lips weakly, nearly panic-stricken and icy. The tone is impossible to misunderstand.

Breaking his mouth from your mottled skin, you feel his warm breath across the plane of your chest.

“You good?”

He’s panting, aching, raising one hand to the solid wall behind your head to bear his weight.

“Fuck. Fuck. I- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t…be here.”

You shake your head, squeeze your eyes shut — wishing you were anywhere else. Wishing you were home, whatever that means.

There’s a whoosh of air as you feel Peter pull his body back. When you open your eyes, his thumb is pressed to his lips, four fingers curled beneath his jawline. His eyes are set, hard as stone, and you know he’s contemplating what happens next.

The silence between you is thick. Bringing your hands together at your stomach, you trace the word safe across your forearm with featherlight movements.

“It’s shitty. What your boyfriend did to you,” he finally sighs, tone clipped.

Your brows knit together in bemusement, and you slowly exhale the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“Silas told me. I mean, you told me, too, but Silas…warned me,” A crooked smile appears on his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Said you’d had a pretty rough few weeks. Advised that I ‘tread lightly’.”

You laugh mirthlessly. “I feel like that’s the understatement of the century.”

A beat, a realization.

“It’s not you, though. Oh god, please don’t think you’re the problem, here,” you groan.

“Ha. No, no,” he answers reflectively. “I should have…heeded his warning, I guess, before kissing the prettiest girl in the club.”

He shoves his hands in pockets, shoulders bunched up around his ears. You notice the barest sprinkle of a blush across his cheeks, and it fills you with something you can’t name, but feels a lot like embarrassment.

Neither of you says anything for a few more moments, and you study the ground beneath your feet. The letters s-a-f-e burn under the weight of your index finger, traced again and again and again. A ritual.

“I should get back to my friends,” you blurt awkwardly, “make sure they know I’m…”

“Safe?” he cuts.

“Safe,” you whisper, true humiliation creeping up your neck. Why the fuck had you insinuated that he wasn’t safe?

When he doesn’t respond, you take three steps back, unsure how to make the most graceful exit.

Right before you turn your back to him, you squeak, “I’m sorry…again. I’m just…a mess, honestly.”

Not meeting your eyes, he raises one hand to shoulder height, palm open, fingers extending from it lazily. “Maybe next time.”

But you’ve already slipped back in the door, your brain on the verge of a total shutdown. Chest rising and falling in cracked, ragged breaths.

wickedwickedwickedwickedwickedwicked.

“Fuck, Joel,” you mumble to yourself as you pass the bathrooms, couples crammed into dark corners, clusters of girls giggling and cooing over each other, “couldn’t even let me lose myself in stupidity for one night.”

You enter the doors leading back to the main dance floor, and spy Ava with her head thrown all the way back, laughing open-mouthed. It fills you with awe to see her so light, carefree — deserving. Capable of love. If it wasn’t Ava you were watching you would be red with envy.

But because it is her, you make your way over to where she is, and when she notices you, she grins so wide it cracks your heart in two. Throwing her arms around you, nuzzling into your hair, she sings the song that’s pulsing over the speakers into your ear. Her cotton candy halo washes over you, and you feel steady on your feet again.

Then, the softest, most content sigh you’ve ever heard. “Babe, I am so happy you wanted to come out tonight. It kills me to see you so down — I could have fucked Tommy up myself, if you’d have let me. And I know it might feel weird now, but I have the best feeling about you staying with Joel for a bit.”

She pulls away to look you in the eyes, her hands clasping your shoulders.

“You’re both the loneliest-“

Wounded, you open your mouth to protest, but she shushes you.

“The loneliest, weirdest people in this city. And I don’t mean lonely like you had Tommy and you have me. I mean lonely like no one has any idea what goes on behind those pretty eyes, doll. You’re so closed off — even with your people. The people who love you. Who adore you.”

She moves one hand to poke into your chest. “It’s like you never actually let your guard down for anyone.”

You scoff lightheartedly. “You think Joel Miller is the person who’s gonna help me figure that out?”

Ava’s gorgeous grin is mischievous, as if she knows every secret you’ve ever kept.

“You never know, babe. You never know.”

For some reason, Joel can’t sleep. His eyes are fixed on the small digital clock next to his bed, and he’s helpless as he watches the minutes, then hours, crawl by.

He keeps waiting to hear the sound of the front door opening, of you stumbling back inside. It’s not coming fast enough for his liking, and he has to remind himself multiple times that you’re young, nearly half his age, and this is normal behavior for 28 year olds.

“She’s an entire fuckin’ adult,” he mumbles to himself in the darkness, frustrated. He doesn’t understand why he’s so concerned; why it’s keeping him up all night.

Around 1:30 (1:26, to be exact, as he can’t take his eyes off the neon numbers), he throws the quilt and sheets off of his body, stretching his coiled, over-anxious muscles. Running his hands through his tousled curls, his jaw ticks, and he makes his way out of his bedroom to the bottle of whiskey that he’d left open on the kitchen counter.

He pours himself two fingers and wanders over to the couch. Clicking on the tv, he attempts to get comfortable, dropping his head back to rest on the top of the cushion, and settling the tumbler of whiskey on his stomach.

The television drones on in the background, some late night news program that Joel couldn’t be less interested in. He stares up at the ceiling.

“Why’re you here? What’s goin’ on?”

Tommy’s stubborn growl over his bottle of beer. Not saying anything, but saying everything at the same time.

“Fucked up, Joel.”

“What else is new, Tommy?”

“Havin’ an affair.”

His voice wrought with guilt, with shame. Joel’s eyes pinning him to where he stood, as cold as he’d ever seen them. Tommy unable to bring himself to meet them.

Joel laughs — fucking laughs — dryly. “Wow. You really are an asshole. Didn’t think you actually had somethin’ like that in you.”

Tommy raking his fingers through his hair, pounding his bottle on the counter just a little too hard. Not denying it.

“What in the fuck possessed you to do that? With who?”

Joel crowds Tommy, anger shooting through his arms to his balled fists. Gritting his teeth so hard he’s afraid they’ll shatter.

Tommy looking up, away from Joel, blowing the air out of his cheeks.

“Donovan. Uh, Tracy. Tracy Donovan. In Tyler. The one with the, uh, kitchen remodel.”

Hot, scorching red blankets Joel’s vision.

“Look, I’m sor-“

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” Joel spits. “You’re not sorry. Compromised the business? Fucked around behind your girlfriend’s back? That girlfriend bein’ the only thing keepin’ you out of jail for what, two years, now? Fuck, Tommy. Don’t know how you come back from that.”

Tommy looking like he wants to cry.

It throws gasoline on Joel’s already raging fire. “And you’re, what? Here lookin’ at me pathetically? Askin’ me to fix it?”

Joel placing his hands palm down on the cool countertop to center himself. He breathes in through his mouth, out through his nose three times. Attempting to calm himself before he entirely wrecks Tommy’s shit.

“Should kick you out,” he finally says nonchalantly. “Should beat some sense into you.”

Hands steady, he reaches into the fridge to pull out another beer. The chill of the bottle in his hands brings him some clarity.

“Won’t, though. Only because I know Peach doesn’t have anywhere to go, and I’m not sendin’ you back for her to deal with.”

An evident wave of relief washes over Tommy, but as Joel gets closer to him and pokes a finger into his chest angrily, he swallows hard.

“She deserves better’n that, and we both know it. Won’t blame her a single bit for kickin’ your ass to the curb.”

Lost in his thoughts, Joel doesn’t realize his eyes have slipped closed. It’s only when he finally hears the door that they snap back open. In his haste to sit up, he spills a tiny dribble of whiskey over his undershirt, and curses as he leans forward to set the tumbler on the coffee table in front of him.

“You’re up?”

Your voice is scratchy, a consequence of the shots and smoke from the club. Arm still stretched toward the table, Joel turns his head towards you, his breath hitching as his gaze lands on your form before him.

Your hair is a wild halo around your head, skin flushed, the straps of your tall platform shoes hanging from your fingers. Eyes hazy, lips kiss-swollen and soft. No trace of your lipstick left.

The living room is dark except for the light of the tv, and the way it hits you makes you look damn near holy.

Joel’s mouth goes dry, and he has to pick that tumbler of whiskey right back up and drain it.

Setting it back down, now empty, he measures his words.

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

You toss your shoes on the floor of the entryway as you make your way towards him, and they land right next to his boots. It makes his chest clench. The realization that they should have always been there — should always be there.

Situating yourself on the couch, you tuck your legs underneath your body and lean back. Joel mirrors you, leaning back into the cushions, but your eyes drop to the way he subconsciously parts his muscular legs.

He’s careful to keep his eyes on the tv, though he’s not the least bit invested in what’s playing, and not on the soft swell of your breasts peeking over the top of your dress.

It’s a comfortable silence, but your blood buzzes with the leftover alcohol and distinct heat still smoldering between your thighs.

“Have fun?”

He doesn’t look at you, and you don’t look at him, but you’re both so aware of each other.

You hum in agreement. “S’always a good time with Ava. Needed it.”

“Meet anyone?”

The air stills between you, and you both know what he’s really asking.

“No,” you reply in a low voice, “didn’t want to meet anyone.”

Your answer makes his fingers ache to reach out and touch you, feel you, but he knows better. Knows he can’t.

“What’re you watching?” Your words are slurred so slightly that he barely catches it, but when he does, it makes him feel warm all over.

“Dunno. Some news bullshit, I guess. Didn’t really matter what was on.”

Your head falls back onto the cushions as you melt further into the couch, sudden exhaustion overtaking you, eyes half-lidded and sluggish.

“Y’know, Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir loved each other so much that they were buried next to each other. But they were never married — never even lived together. Had other lovers that they threw right in each other’s faces.”

Joel furrows his brow. He doesn’t know who the fuck those people are, or why you’re saying this. But you’re talking, saying the most you’ve said to him in days, and he’s listening, so all he says is, “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah. It makes me feel like you can fail at love in so many different ways, and still have it deep inside you — even if it’s buried far, far down.”

He’s quiet, never having seen you with your defenses down like this, and he’s grateful for the glimpse into you. He’s afraid to ruin it.

“I feel like that, too, you know? Like I loved someone, and failed at it,” you continue, your eyes opening more and more slowly with each passing second. Eventually, you stop trying to fight it all together. “I have so much love inside me and no way to get it out.”

He hums in consideration. Your words bury themselves deep in his chest, strangle his heart. Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.

“You didn’t fail, Peach. Tommy made a shitty decision all on his own,” he whispers after a few moments of silence, finally allowing himself to look over at you.

But you’re already asleep, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

You had tried to get it out, before sleep took you, to tell him that no, it wasn’t Tommy. It was your mother. That she’d broken you and broken you and broken you. But you weren’t fast enough, couldn’t get your mouth to form the words.

Joel marvels, for just a second, at your small frame next to him on the couch. At the way your brain works, at the things that matter to you. Soaking in how you look while you sleep, the usual worry on your face smoothed out. He may never see it again, he knows.

Hoisting himself up off the cushions, ignoring the pain in his knees, he slides his hands under you — one arm beneath your legs, the other under your arms. As he straightens, pulling you close to his chest, you automatically curl around him. Melt into him.

He revels in the weight of you in his arms, so tiny compared to his broad frame, his large hands. It takes his breath away.

Slowly, he walks toward your room, nudging the door open with his hip. He’s careful not to bump your limbs, careful not to jostle and wake you. Your head is nestled against his chest, and he’s displeased to lay you down on your bed. He does anyway, gently untangling his body from yours, palm open as it passes under your thighs.

He ignores the fact that he’s half-hard in his sweatpants, just from touching you. Like a teenage fucking boy. As soon as his hands are off you, he readjusts himself quickly before striding silently to the door.

Right before he closes it, he hears your soft, sleep-soaked voice.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” He pokes his head back in the room, letting you know he’s there.

“I don’t deserve this.”

[katyawriteswhump]

The power of love, part 10 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near-death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 11 Part 12

Contains mild kink (under-negotiated and going slightly wrong—all for plotty purposes, honest!)

(also on AO3 here)

...

Steve POV continued

“You sure about this, Stevie?”

“What part of ‘let’s do this’ do you not get?” 

Steve unwinds himself from Eddie. He peels his sweater over his head then glances down at the bandages… Screw it, can’t think about it now.

“Damn,” breathes Eddie, apparently drooling too hard to care. “I totally dreamed about this, when I luuuuurved to hate you. Okay, hate is kinda overkill but—”

“Yeah, I was a douche. Blah, blah, blah.” Steve shivers lightly, pitches the sweater at Eddie, who totally fails to catch it. “If this is some freak show revenge kink—”

“Wasn’t like that—seriously, you have no idea. It was, uh…” Eddie ventures closer. Under the quivering beams of the flashlight, his dark eyes seem impossibly large and liquid. “I used to watch you in the pool—you were so disgustingly squeaky clean. I wanted to drag you into the deepest, darkest recesses of my dungeon-master mind and, ahem…”

“I needed bringing down a peg?” Steve gets right in Eddie’s face.

“Not even that.” Eddie’s deadly serious. “Just wanted you aaaaall for myself.”

Steve smirks—best way to disguise the candy-ass swirl of butterflies in his belly—then steps back and spreads his arms. “I’m all yours. Knock yourself out.”

Eddie gets some rope, hooks it over a high beam, and climbs on a crate to fasten it in place. He then plants a palm on Steve’s bare chest, backing him up against a wooden post. Steve smirks harder than ever, if only to distract himself—and Eddie—from the heart hammering insanely beneath Eddie’s hand. Jesus Christ, don’t think! Focus on the hotness.

Eddie reaches up to grab one end of the rope, loop it around one of Steve’s wrists. Steve tugs himself free: “You do know what you’re doing here, right?”

“Believe me, my uncle is worse than any overgrown boy-scout leader. Not sure he taught me knots and shit for exactly these purposes, but… anyhoo.”

“Okay. Got one condition. You get shirtless too.”

Eddie’s grin makes Steve ache in all sorts of fun places. “Guess I can indulge you, Babe.”

“Babe? I was a brat five minutes ago. Make yer mind up.”

Eddie flips the bird, turns away and strips. Steve lolls against the post, despite longing to drag his tongue over every salty inch of Eddie’s torso. Jesus, he never knew he had a shoulder and back kink, because… Gnnng! And those tats, stark against Eddie’s pale skin? As Eddie turns back, Steve drinks them all in. Even the goddamn bats, which should be scary as hell these days, are beyond intoxicating, and seem to dance and spin and…

“Ready now?” Eddie grabs the rope.

Steve fakes a yawn. “Getting old waiting, Munson.” 

“You really are a brat, you know that? C’mon, gimme your hand.”

Eddie ties Steve’s right wrist with a loopy, hitchy knot. He tugs another part of the rope, suspending Steve’s wrist in the air above him.

“How ya doing, big boy?” Eddie grazes his fingers, feather-light, down the light stubble on Steve’s cheek.

“Never better.” 

Steve swallows hard, offers Eddie his other hand. The exquisite concentration on Eddie’s face, the tip of pink tongue at the corner of his mouth, is hilarious. Eddie’s half-naked body is totally smokin’, and yet…

Steve’s eyes drift closed. Those butterflies in his stomach are fast transforming into a horde of angry wasps. He’s had his hands tied before, by the Soviets and… Dammit, is this really distracting him from anything? I DIED IN 1978. I DIED! His breaths come faster, shallower. Nevertheless, he bites his lip against asking Eddie to stop, to slow down even. Don’t spoil this, Harrington.

“Stevie, you sure you’re okay?”

As soon as his gaze meets Eddie’s, Steve’s anxiety fades a little, and he nods. He tugs lightly at Eddie’s handiwork, now complete, and a snigger he genuinely feels tugs the corner of his lips. While the ropes don’t dig in, he doesn’t think he could easily yank himself free.

Okay, this is definitely kinda hot. Like the channel of air between their bare chests, which honestly, steams like a sauna. He’s always been in control in sexual relationships, always taking the lead. Lately, yeah, it’s felt kinda dull almost, as if he’s been going through the motions. Now, his nerves still jangle, but simply losing himself again in Eddie’s soulful eyes, he’s getting a goddamn semi. He peeps down, and the strain at Eddie’s fly suggests he’s suffering the same.

“What you gonna do next, Munson?” he husks.

“Stevie, I… I…” Eddie steps back, plows all eight fingers deep into that lush hair. “Seriously, now I got you like this, I have no clue, other than I want to kiss you so bad.”

“I want that so bad too.” 

Eddie kisses his own knuckles, dusts them across Steve’s lips, setting Steve squirming, keening even. His heart and his every goddamn fibre strain madly toward Eddie. Then an unexpected rumbling noise clamps those same fibres super-tight.

“Fuck!” Eddie’s half-lidded eyes stretch wide. “More choppers?” 

“No… No. Sounds like a truck or something.”

“How?”

“Robin said there was a track, remember? Shit, shit, shit! Turn the flashlight off. Now.”

Eddie obeys. Pitch darkness slams down. “Fine,” says Steve, struggling to keep it together. “You gotta untie me, man.”

“Right. Yeah.”

Cold sweat carves rivulets down the back of Steve’s neck, soaking the hair as his nape, while Eddie fumbles at the rope. Eddie’s frantic, singsong voice unsettles Steve further: “Nooooo. Can’t see what I’m doing.”

“You tied the dumb things? How hard can it be!”

“Stop struggling. You’re making the knots tighter.” 

“Oh.” Steve hadn’t realized he was doing that. “Sorry. Sorry.”

Eddie switches the flashlight back on. 

“Are you insane?” hisses Steve.

“Not the expert I thought I was, okay? I’m gonna have to slice them. Don’t wanna slice you.” Eddie retrieves a flick-knife from his back pocket, starts hacking above Steve’s right wrist. “Aaaaargh! You blunted this thing slashing your way through that goddamn jungle.”

“Somebody had to carve a path for you two great wusses. Just… Don’t be a klutz.”

“Aaaaah, I suck at this, Stevie. I don’t like this. I don’t like this.”

Neither does Steve. An engine revs and grinds, waaaay too close. “Turn the stupid light off. Go! Warn Robin. She’s a heavy sleeper.”

“But—”

“DO IT!” Steve’s furious desperation hits home. Eddie kills the flashlight, leaving Steve tethered by the wrists. Totally helpless.

Calm down, calm down. Focus, Harrington. Free yourself and then you can help them.

He grits his teeth, tugs again at the ropes. They simply bite deeper into his flesh. Nevertheless, Eddie has sawed partially through the rope above his right wrist. He throws everything into that, shoulder and biceps burning, until…

Snap.

His right wrist flies free, and he slumps forward into the darkness. Which makes the bonds around his left wrist snare super-tight, like he was caught in an animal trap.

Ooow! Oh great, just great.

He staggers upright to slacken the remaining rope, gives it a single strenuous tug then pulls short, gasping. At this rate, he’s gonna squeeze his own goddamn hand off.

He hears murmured voices—Eddie? Robin? Two beams of dusky white light streak through the small windows of the cabin—headlamps!?! 

His increasingly feeble struggles dry up. Whoever is coming is nearly here, and he wants to punch something, to kick something. Anything! He’d do anything to protect Eddie and Robin. Anything… Anything.

Giddiness swirls through his body like a mist. He’s nearly bent double, before the wrench through his shoulder revives him. Ow, Jesus! He scrambles to find his footing, to lighten the burden on his shoulder socket, though he’s still light-headed, his chest tight and shuddering. Are the army here? Have Robin and Eddie been taken? Oh God, oh God!

Something that feels like a mini lightning-storm consumes his brain, echoed by a deafening clap of thunder, and then…

Nothing.

…

Eddie POV

Eddie dips around the wavering beams of the slowly approaching headlights. He dashes into the bunkroom, where Robin is asleep.

In the gloom, he grabs her shoulder, shakes her. “Robin!” 

“Mind the kittens… Huh? Shit, sorry, dreaming. What the—”

Eddie flattens his hand over her mouth. “Someone’s coming,” he hisses.

“Shit-birds, what do we…” Robin sits up, slides to her feet. Her attention swings to Steve’s empty bunk. “Where is he?”

“Long story. Listen, you gotta run. Now. Hide.”

“Where? There’s only one way out.” Her arms flap everywhere. “Where’s Steve, Eddie?” 

“Gonna get him. Come on!”

They sidle out of the bunkroom, keeping tight to the cabin and the shadows. The revs from the vehicle are hard-by. “Hide in the trees,” says Eddie. “Go.”

“Not without Steve! Where is… Oh my God, oh my God.” 

Two headlight beams dazzle, as the vehicle enters the camp. A few fleeting heartbeats later, lightning forks across the sky, echoed by a deafening thunderclap. As Eddie and Robin charge deeper into the shadows, the heavens literally crack apart and a wall of rain slams down. Eddie sprints for the cabin where he left Steve, already soaked to the skin, no idea if Robin followed.

“Steve?” he whispers. “Steve! Shit! Shiiiiit!” Blundering in the dark, he discovers Steve’s completely out of it, dangling limply from one wrist. Eddie’s clumsily bracing his weight, when a flashlight sets him squinting, and a large figure blocks the doorway.

It’s all over.

Somebody roars, “What the hell is going on?” 

It sounds like Chief Hopper.

Eddie’s so stunned that he almost lets Steve drop. Fortunately, Hopper is already there—or, at least, some tall, lean, mean-looking dude that resembles him. Whoever he is, he gets his arms around Steve, while elbowing Eddie out of the way.

“Eddie? What? Why? What did you do to him? How could you? HOW COULD YOU?” Robin, holding the light, sounds ten times angrier than the thunder.

“It… uh, it wasn’t like that.” Eddie wrings his sopping hair. “I can explain?”

“Save it, Munson,” mutters the Hopper-look-alike, who’s already produced a vicious-looking blade and is hacking Steve free. Then he scoops one arm under Steve’s knees, and with a grunt, he picks him up.

“You got beds somewhere?” asks Hopper. Robin nods, before leading the way out into the easing rain.

Part 11

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 11

[italiansteebie]

Schizophrenic Steve Harrington? The whole party thinks he’s vecnaed or something bcuz he’s talking to himself but no…he just has diagnosed schizophrenia and he’s just trying to have a good conversation with the voices but keeps being interrupted 🙄

Literally ignore me if u hate this idea okay ty bae bye

i love this idea!!! i can't say i know much about how schizophrenia presents butttttt i wrote this based on your prompt!!

---

"haha, i know, right?"

robin looked up at steve, "what?" she questioned, watching him closely, looking around the room to see if anyone else was bearing witness.

steve didn't look at her, "dude! that's my favorite game, yknow? of course you know... i mean, how could you not, right?"

eddie stood abruptly, "stevie? you okay buddy?" steve looked at him with an arched eyebrow, "im good, why?" eddie shook his head. "uh. no reason, i guess." he looked to robin, who only shrugged in response.

"what did you say? .... oh okay, i got you. sorry, they keep interrupting us. rude."

now eddie was very concerned, "steve, seriously what are you doing?" he watched as steve shook his head, muttering something of an apology.

"im having an auditory hallucination, just gimme a minute."

the rest of the group watched in morbid curiosity as steve said his goodbyes to an invisible force, waiting with bated breath for his clarification. "sorry, it's done, it's over. uh- talking to them, helps. it makes them like... less negative i guess? when i ignore them they get... weird."

"sorry, what?"

"what?"

"you, uh." robin paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "hallucinations?"

"oh, yeah. i was diagnosed with schizophrenia when i was 13."

robin rolls her eyes "and yet another fact about steve that makes me wonder about your life." she singsongs.

he shrugs, grabbing a bag of chips, opening it and popping one in his mouth. "yeah." is all he said, mouth full of chips.