#i had to leave after getting a glimpse at how she’d moved him

[livwritesstuff]

Steve is home one day with his daughters when he realizes that his oldest, Moe, is ten.

Okay, obviously, he knew she was ten. She’s been ten for a while, as her birthday is in July and it’s now December, and the girls are discussing Christmas as they perceive it in their little girl worlds.

It’s really that Steve realizes that Moe is the same age Erica had been when he’d asked her to climb through air ducts and infiltrate a Russian military base.

It’s a realization that has Steve feeling a little nauseous, because Moe is ten and she’s plotting with her little sisters about how they’re going to stay awake on Christmas Eve to catch a glimpse of Santa (their conspiring has Steve worried for his and Ed’s own role in Christmas Eve and the way it hinges on the girls falling asleep as early as fucking possible), and she’d lost another baby tooth this morning and hasn’t stopped talking about what the tooth fairy might leave for her overnight, and she still sneaks into his and Eddie’s room after nightmares looking for snuggles, and she’s afraid of car washes and bugs, and she still wants to be read to before bed every night.

He’d been struck suddenly by how little Moe still is. Maybe he’s only thinking that because she’s his daughter – his first daughter, at that – but he still looks at that kid’s face and sees the newborn baby who’d made him a dad ten years ago.

He can’t imagine looking at her and seeing someone equipped to take on Erica had been asked to do, never mind actually asking her to do it, which is precisely what Steve had done twenty-five years ago.

It eats at him for the rest of the day.

“Just call her, Steve,” Eddie urges him after Steve brings it up for the sixth time that evening, “You clearly need to air this shit out.”

So Steve calls Erica.

Erica is in her mid-thirties now. She’s a kick-ass lawyer at a private firm in Indiana, and she picks up the phone on the second ring.

“This is Erica,” she says.

“Hey, it’s Steve.”

“What’s up,” she replies, still never one for beating around the bush.

“I just – I need to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For Scoops,” Steve says, “For Starcourt.”

Erica is silent for a while.

None of them really talk about any of that stuff anymore. They’d hashed everything out ages ago, until all that was left behind was the understanding that none of them would ever be able to truly move past it, that there would always be guilt and fear and pain they could never shake.

“Okay?” she finally says, question in her tone.

“I just…” Steve hesitates, “Look – I didn’t get it. I didn’t fully get how fucked up it was. I was the grown up in the situation and I should have put a stop to it but I was stupid and reckless, and now that Moe is ten, I can’t stop thinking about how insane it was for us to even consider roping you into that.”

“I agreed to it.”

“You were a kid.”

“You were a kid,” Erica insists.

“Eighteen isn’t a kid anymore.”

“Say that to me again when Moe’s eighteen and maybe I’ll believe you.”

Steve doesn't have anything to say to that, because Erica is probably right (though only time will tell, he supposes). Their phone call ends only a few minutes later with Erica telling him to go easy on himself and Steve saying he’d try before apologizing one more time.

“You gonna take her advice?” Eddie asks after he’s pulled a begrudging Steve into his arms.

“No,” he tells him, curling into his husband’s side and sticking his nose in Eddie’s neck so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye.

“Figures.”

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

+:✿ Chapter - 1 ✿:+ New Pretty Cage

next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of animal death, alcohol consumption, mention of infant death, mention of parent(s) death, loras being very lgbtq , mention of arranged marriage. 

Leaving the Eyrie at first was exciting. You hated to admit it, you screamed at your father for even suggesting it, you cried like a child, but it was. The Eyrie was hardly a home, It was cold, isolated, and a constant reminder of what you’d lost. Kings Landing was warm, crowded, and offered a future outside of living in the past. 

Your father, Jon Arryn, was more than optimistic that you would find a suitor worthy of your name. Your aunt and now step mother, Lysa Arryn was elated at the opportunity of ridding her and Robin’s lives of you. 

After the death of your mother, Elorie of house Tully, your father married her sister, your aunt. You could have stomached it, you could have even forgiven it, if it weren’t for the fact your mother died during her labors of childbirth. 

As you and your father rode in the carriage, your mind couldn’t help but think of it. You’d spent your mothers entire pregnancy hoping she’d bear a son. You even prayed, prayed to the seven Gods whom you didn’t even believe in. You had hoped if the child was a boy, you wouldn’t have to be wed off to the best house name possible. 

What's worse, not only did the labors kill your mother, but it also killed your brother. You’d prayed for a brother and the Gods gave you a brother. But they took him away and your mother with him. 

You had spent days sulking, wallowing in grief. Unbeknownst to you, all the while your father was arranging his own marriage with Lysa. A son followed behind soon, Robin, the brat. You hated him, even if you were the same blood.

“We approach,” your father said under his breath. It was enough to bring you back to reality. 

“How long will I be here?” You asked, knowing the answer. Your father shot you a look with a furrowed brow, as if to say, “You already know.” You nodded as your concerned gaze turned to a glare as you looked out the carriage into the city. You lost your sweetness after your mother died, you were in no rush to get it back. 

“Who am I to wed?” You asked flatly, your stoic expression and eyes filled with venom shot outside of the carriage and away from your father. 

He sighed and looked upon you softly. “The Baratheon boys are eligible I suppose,” before he could finish you began. “Blondes, I have a distaste for blonde men.” You say as you rest your chin on your fist, still staring outside of the carriage. Your father let out a sigh about to lecture you on the importance of uniting families and the unimportance of such trivial things like personal happiness. But you cut him off, you look at him with eyes filled with venom, “I know you’ve a plan. You don’t go into anything blind.” he let out a small huff of a laugh as you arrived at the impressive castle. Your eyes did move from your fathers however. “You are just like your mother. Filled with angry eyes and hard questions.” Your eyes narrowed a bit, as the door to the carriage opened. 

“Welcome Lord Arryn, welcome Lady (Y/N)” 

Later that evening, you met the Lannisters and Baratheons over dinner. 

You took note of the “Baratheon boys” your father mentioned. Sons of the King. From all those story books you'd read as a girl you would have thought that Princes’s would be handsome, kind, gentle, and brave. However you weren’t a naive child anymore. So the scrawny and boyish looking Joffrey didn’t surprise you, but did disappoint you. And Tommen was boyish too however Tommen was just that, a boy, a child. You found yourself praying again, praying you wouldn’t be subjected to an arranged marriage between either of them. 

The dinner was mostly spent with your father and Robbert yammering, and occasionally people needing to remind you that you were being spoken to. 

It was strange, on one hand you were excited to be out of the isolation of the Eyrie, on the other hand you couldn’t care less about the people around you. That was until the royal family's guard stepped into the room. The man was giant, standing at least 6 '6, his shoulders were so broad he had to step into a room at an angle. You felt your eyes linger on the figure just a second too long. Reverting it back to your hands in your lap. 

You felt her cheeks blush, you felt yourself get embarrassed by this. But the thing is you’ve never seen a man like that. You never saw a man that big, a man that broad, ever. The Eyrie was secluded and maybe men from the vale were just shorter. Maybe this was a southern thing. Before you could roll the thought around your brain for long, the hulking figure walked to the opposite side of the room, it was only then when you noticed his face lit by the candle lights.You saw the left side of his face first. His face was masculine, there was nothing about his appearance that was feminine. As you analyzed his face, he turned it towards you which is when you saw the opposite of his face. It was horribly scarred, all the hair on his face was burnt off and ribboned in scarred tissue. 

It was beautiful. You’d never seen anything like it. 

You didn’t break your gaze as it was intertwined with the giant in the room. His deep brown eyes seemed somewhat confused with something about you. You felt the blush returning to your cheeks and nose as you studied him. You only broke your improper gaze once you felt the dread you feel everytime your fathers gaze comes towards you. You were able to look away before he noticed. He grabbed ahold of your hand and shot you a half hearted smile hoping your sour mood would magically improve with this minimal affection. However the daggers in your eyes did not surrender. 

You spent the following days walking around the castle, hoping for another glimpse at the man everyone feared so terribly. You asked your father about him, “He’s the royal family's dog, both the Cleganes are. They are not the kind of people I wish for you to be around.” You rolled your eyes, but the information you got from anyone else was no better. His monstrous and vile actions. His temper is so fierce he’d kill anyone without a second thought. But when you saw his eyes, those deep brown eyes, they weren’t mean or angry they were sad. They were scared.

Days in this shit city were long, and often just as boring as the days in the Eyrie. Only instead of a shivering cold there was a sticky warmth. Instead of Lysa and Robin there was Cersei and Joffrey. At least Robin didn’t kill little creatures and beat girls for fun. 

There were some advantages to living here however. There were more books, more food, more drinks, more dresses, more music. Living so high in the mountain such luxuries were sparse. Luxuries like friends, of which you felt you gained a few. The Tyrells for example were the only people you felt you could be truly honest with. Specifically Loras, there was a sense of vulnerability you two shared with each other. Both of you are unhappy with the prospect of marriage, arranged specifically. You remember the time he confessed to you that he was in love with a man. You walked through the garden together, those times became special. The only times when you and he could speak plainly. You always thought of how lovely it would be to have a friend, someone to trust solely. You always thought it would be a woman but you couldn’t complain. 

You held onto his hands as he confessed. He said he wished he could change, to not be what he was. 

“Never,” You held onto his hands tighter “Never wish for such things. Change even a single thing of you and you aren’t you. And you are my friend, my dearest friend.” You whispered, he embraced you tightly. You however had a slight growing distaste for Renly, a man who brought such tears to your friend. 

To anyone secretly observing, it was courting. To you and he, it was friendship. In its purest way. 

Maybe your father was true to his promise, he’d find you a man whom you’d love, a man who was brave and gentle. Only this love was different. As he was the only person you could trust.

The two of you thought of a plan for you and the wedding of one another. It was a good plan, the two of you would be bound by love and respect of which you both shared for the other. And the two of you would be free to find romantic, and sexual love freely. Loras teased you’d be able to fuck all the KingsGaurd if The Hound did not please you. It made you giggle but blush in embarrassment like a little girl.

Honestly you and he would have had the most healthy relationship of all the realm, and the only difference would be the two of you never consummated. But who would need to know? 

You almost went through with it after the death of your father. If it weren’t for the fact Cersei forced her company upon you so much, you could have ran to the nearest septon and made your marriage official. But Cersei never left you alone, you were either with her, or one of her ladies. And, and you hated to admit it, you’d miss those butterflies in your belly anytime you caught The Hounds gaze. It makes your cheek red and your belly burn. And you loved it, it might have been the only reason you could have lived during those days. You spent anytime you got alone with Loras talking about The Hound, a topic he grew bored of quickly. So you also spoke of your marriage. 

However these plans changed at the arrival of your cousin Sansa. Upon her arrival you saw a girl who would never handle the city she was stepping into with such naive big eyes and fairy tale fantasies of her future. You agreed with Olenna that Loras should attempt to court Sansa prior to her wedding with Joffrey, one last attempt at her freedom. You began to care less and less of your own.

Selfless yes, but stupid. 

During the tournament you sat beside Sansa, and her father Nedd Stark who had such an affinity to your father apparently it was transferred to you now that he was dead and gone. She begged her father to stop the tournament. You wanted to roll your eyes at it, but you also wished someone would stop it as well. The Mountain, Gregor Clegane, scared you. He was different from his brother. The Hound was almost as big but he had a stoic and sad nature to him, even though everyone told you to beware. The brother you feared was Gregor, he was unstable, rabid, and frightened you to no end. You’d hoped your plan of him using your mare, who was in heat, would work. 

It was a trick, but a good one, if it worked. And it did, it upsets and confuses Gregor's mount. Gregor was thrown off his horse. You felt a wave of relief as Sansa stood and cheered. What you didn’t account for was Gregor's reaction. Gregor, absolutely furious, decapitated his own horse. You, still seated, grabbed ahold of Sansa’s arm as Gregor made his way to Loras. You sat and watched, you hoped someone, anyone would intervene. Renly, Nedd, the King, anyone. 

Just as you were sure that was the end, “Leave him be!” The giant man behind you roared. The Hound swung his sword blocking a fatal blow to Loras. You sat there, your eyes not wide but narrowed and brows furrowed. You studied the battle between these two brothers. You wondered why, why would this man risk his own life just to save one of Loras? If he was the merciless monster that everyone had claimed, why do this? As you watched these men fight you noticed, the noble men all fought as they were trained, this man fought as he knew would kill. He fought with experience. 

You couldn’t help but find it exciting. 

As The King called off this fight, The Hound dodged a fatal blow he simultaneously bowed to the King. This made your lips part slightly as you struggled to conceal a smile. 

As Loras named The Hound champion everyone stood and clapped, but not you. 

You sat and stared at the man, your cheeks with a renewed blush on them. You smiled softly at him, his gaze soon met your own. Once met, it was hard to break. 

You managed to weasel your way out of the sight of the Starks and Lannisters to check on Loras. As you made your way to the stables you didn’t find Loras but The Hound. You felt like you walked into a brick wall as you saw the Giant drinking from a wine skin sitting against the stable that held your own horse. He didn’t look at you as he said “Your pretty boy isn’t here, girl.” as he took another long swig of the wineskin in his fist. 

“I’m sure I don’t know who you refer to.” You lie as you slowly walk over to your horse. 

“Fuck you don’t.” He hissed  “Dirty trick you and that boy pulled.” 

“No honor in tricks.” You say feeding your horse some feed from your palm. 

“Honor,” He scuffs “only cunts believe in that shit.” your brows raised, you’d never heard a man curse so much. They rarely did in the company of a Lady. 

“There was honor in what you did, It was quite brave, Ser.” 

“I'm not a ser, I already told your pretty boy that.” 

“Loras is not my ‘pretty boy’” you said in a mocking tone making the hound crack a small smirk. 

“Fuck off,” He scuffed, “Round that boy you’re as in heat as that bitch mare in that stable.” 

“Is that why you came here? You sit in front of my mare's stable because you wanted to accuse me of having relations with a friend of mine?” You eyes shift from your mare to glare at him with disgust. His eyes locked with yours. He hardly needed to look up at you to see your eyes. 

“I don’t like the way you look at me.” He said flatly

“I don’t like the way you talk to me.” Your eyes went back to your mare. “Don’t talk to me like that and I won’t look at you like that.”

“Don’t matter how you look at me, just that you do.” He said as he took another swig. 

You looked down contemplating what that could have meant as you looked over to him. 

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ tell ya not to do that?” He growled however your gaze did not falter. 

“You did not, you said you don’t like it.” You asserted mockingly, not at all scared of this man beside you, even though you maybe should be.

He stood, showing just how small you were in comparison to him. As he loomed over you, his eyes raked over every part of you, avoiding your eyes. 

“It will serve you well to listen to a man. Save yourself some pain. Some men, like to hit stubborn girls like you. Men who like to beat them.” He said in a somewhat more gentle tone than before. 

Your eyes met him once more, as you looked up at him, you realized he’d never been so close to you. 

“And what of you? Are you one of those men?” You asked teasing him, testing his patience 

“Maybe,” he rasped “You don’t know the things I’ve done,” 

You turned your body towards him to face him completely. 

“You should be scared of me, of any man in this shit city.” 

“I should be, but I’m not. I tried to be, but I can’t make myself feel frightened by you.” You said fidgeting with your necklace. 

“I’m a killer,” He wrapped his fingers around your throat, but his grasp was hardly there at all, almost like he was hovering his hand there. “I could crush your pretty throat.” 

“Do it.” You said quickly, His brows furrowed, “You think I want to live here? Do it.” you held onto his wrist, needing both hands to grasp his thick wrist fully. “No, you won’t hurt me.” You say softly. 

His hand runs down your throat and lays flat engulfing your chest in his palm as his fingers laid on your collar bone. He felt your heartbeat for a moment, savoring it.  “No, no little bird, I won't hurt you.” He conceded painfully, the name he called you made your cheeks blush. With that he turned away from you and stomped out of the stables. 

You felt yourself release a breathe, fuck, you thought to yourself. 

Few questions remained in your mind, ‘Why was he so gentle?’  and ‘Why did he make you feel this way?’

NOTE: Hi, this is my first time writing any fanfiction- believe me it will get better. We will be fuckin I promise we will be laying it down girls!! This one is mainly just world building. Let me know if there's anything you’d like to see going forward! 

Xoxo 

Bambi <3

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie and Ms. Sweetheart's honeymoon 🥹🥹🥹

The way I ran to Google Docs to write this, not just because I love me some fluffy smut, but also because I love you.

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Relaxing on the beach, giving your new husband a sexy surprise...what more can you ask for?

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), p in v, breeding kink (of course), Ms. Sweetheart/Reader wears lingerie

WC: 1.1k

A/N: Big thank you and smoochy kisses to @jo-harrington for helping me make this piece body-inclusive, and to @corroded-hellfire for ensuring the breeding kink was on point.

August 1998

“What a day.” Eddie flops onto the king-size bed face first, still in his wet swim trunks. Sand sticks to the bottom of his feet; you swear he’s traipsed in half the beach. “Who knew lounging in the sun could be so exhausting? I don’t know how we’re gonna go back to our normal lives.” He flips over onto his back so his words are no longer muffled. “Like, my body might be back in Hawkins, but my mind will be in Myrtle Beach.”

You laugh, arms crossed over your chest and pressed against the thin fabric of your cover-up. “Can you drag yourself into the shower and wash off?” When he doesn’t move, you let your fingertips dance along the sole of his foot. He giggles maniacally and reflexively, drawing inwards. 

“Dammit, okay, okay!” He shakes his head and pushes himself up to an upright position. “The things you do to get me naked…”

“Mhm.” You roll your eyes dismissively as though his suggestion is absurd—even though that’s exactly what you’re trying to do. 

As soon as you hear the squeak of the spigot and the ensuing stream of water, you unzip your suitcase and rifle through until you find what you’re looking for. You feel it before you see it, fingers grasping the lacy fabric triumphantly. 

You shed the flower-printed cover-up, catching a glimpse in the mirror of yourself in your swimsuit. Eddie had picked it out for you—a one-piece that hugged you in all the right places. Truthfully, you could wear this and it would turn him on, but this is your honeymoon, and you want it to be special. 

Peeling off the damp suit, you toss it aside; it lands on the floor with a comical thwack, and you make a mental note to pick it up later. 

The teddy you’d bought weeks ago suddenly looks daunting, purchased during a trip to the mall with Jess. She’d insisted that no honeymoon is complete without some lingerie, and you’d reluctantly given in after she’d assured you multiple times that Eddie would, quote, “lose his goddamn mind.”

Soft black cups perfectly hold your breasts in place, accentuating your decolletage. The sheer mesh covering your torso is embroidered with lace roses, leaving just enough to the imagination. 

All right, you can admit it—you look good. 

You lounge on the small sofa that faces the bathroom, adjusting the bodysuit’s thin straps as you wait for the steadily falling water to cease, punctuated by several rogue drops. Your heart leaps with excitement as you hear the door knob twist and you’re bathed in a plume of steamy air. 

“Surprised you didn’t try to join—holy hell.” Eddie exhales with a grin, taking in your scantily-clad body. A white towel is slung low on his hips, sopping up the water trickling from his curls. “Where did you get this little number, baby?”

Heat creeps into your cheeks as he saunters toward you, one hand finding the small of your back while the other caresses your cheek. He leans in and kisses you hungrily, his burgeoning erection pressing against your bare thigh.

“Got me all worked up just by looking at you, Mrs. Munson,” he murmurs into your lips. It sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine as he deepens his embrace, pulling you as close as he possibly can.

Your fingers dip beneath the towel, tugging it from where it’s tucked along his waist and letting it drop. He’s fully exposed, and it takes all of your willpower to keep up this game of seduction and refrain from kissing down his happy trail.

“Since you’re so tired tonight, baby,” you coo, nipping at his earlobe as you speak, “I figured I could take care of you.” Your palms journey the expanse of his chest, draping them over his shoulders and guiding him onto the bed. The fresh bed sheets are crisp underneath your knees as you straddle him, grinding your core against his. “‘S that okay?”

Eddie nods, letting out an incredulous breath. “Course, yeah, whatever you want…” He sits up slightly, mouth drawn to your breasts as though pulled by a magnet. 

“I want you,” you tell him, sucking bruises into his neck that you hope will last until you return home. “I want you inside me, filling me up, making me feel so, so good…”

The fabric between your thighs is already soaked with proof of your desire, and you shift it over so you can sink down onto his hardened length. You take him inch by inch, the tip breaching your hole and stretching you in its delicious, familiar way.

“Oh, my god,” you whimper, bringing his hands to the flesh of your ass and giving your movements more stability. Each rock of your hips draws a moan from your husband’s plush lips, his tongue darting out to wet them every so often. “Eddie, oh, my god!”

His grip on your ass tightens as you clench around him and continue to bounce. “‘M close,” he grunts, breath hitching as he begins slamming up into you to chase his release. “Fuck, baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight…can’t hold back any more…” He speaks through gritted teeth, purely animalistic in nature. 

Your middle finger finds your clit, rubbing small circles into it. The small movements drive both you and Eddie absolutely wild. 

“Thassit…touch yourself for me,” he groans, barely audible above the lewd sounds of skin-on-skin and the way you’re drenching him right now. “You look so goddamn perfect like this, filled to the brim with my cock.”

“Wanna be filled with your cum, too,” you whine, feeling the beginnings of your own orgasm. “Wanna take all your cum, Eddie, like a good little wife.”

Eddie’s eyes practically roll back in his head. “My good little wife, all barefoot and pregnant…fuckfuckfuck…takeittakeittakeit.” With a final few thrusts, he spills into you with everything he has. His grasp loosens as he softly kisses your arms, desperate to remain close to you in any way possible. 

“So,” you start with a giggle, gently moving off of him so you can cuddle into his perspiration-slick chest, “looks like you got a second wind.”

He tilts your chin up, his eyes studying your face like a precious gemstone. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll get a third, okay, Sweetheart?” He winks, thumb gliding up and down your jawline. “Keep that sexy outfit on f’me, though. I’m not done with either of you.”

--

[steddieas-shegoes]

“We have to discuss the temperature of the water in this shower.”

“You could get out if you don’t like it.”

Robin rolled her eyes as she continued to lather up her hair.

They were both running late, hence the showering together.

They’d done it quite a few times when they were in a rush or just didn’t want to be alone, which happened a lot after nightmares.

It further proved they’re platonic with a capital P friendship, as if they needed the proof to begin with.

Sometimes Robin would wash his hair when he had a migraine, sometimes he’d give her a shoulder massage after a long day in class.

It just worked for them.

Robin joked it was the only time she’d ever shower with a man, and Steve joked that it was probably the only time he’d shower with a lesbian.

It worked.

They were so caught up in their usual routine taking turns in the water and soaping up, they didn’t even notice when the bathroom door opened.

“Robs, I have soap in my eye, move.”

“You’re a child, Steve. A child.”

“It hurts! Move!”

“Learn to close your eyes dingus!”

“Learn to move when I need you to!”

Eddie was frozen in the doorway to the bathroom watching as the argument continued despite the fact that Robin moved and Steve got the soap out of his eyes.

Robin had come out to him a year ago. He remembers very distinctly laughing about how the small town queers always found each other like fucking magnets.

Steve had come out to him a few months previously, letting him know he was definitely into men and women and had probably always known, but was too stubborn to admit he was probably way more into Billy Hargrove than he should’ve been.

Robin was a lesbian.

She was currently naked in a shower with Steve, who was also naked.

They were naked in the shower together.

He looked down at the floor for their modesty, but still couldn’t move, his brain trying it’s best to come to any conclusion that made sense.

The water shut off and the door opened.

He was still looking at the floor.

Robin’s feet were on the bathmat. He assumed she was wrapping herself in a towel, but he had no idea because he couldn’t look up.

Then Steve’s feet were on the bathmat.

He wanted to look up.

He really wanted to get a glimpse of what his dreams built up in his mind almost every night.

But he couldn’t.

He was still in shock that they showered together. Naked!

Robin was leaving the room. Had she said something? Surely she’d noticed him, he was still standing halfway in the door. Her shoulder brushed his as she left.

He forced himself to look up a little and saw a smirk on Steve’s face.

Why was he so calm? Why was he not yelling at him about looking at them naked? Why was he not explaining what was going on?

Steve’s hand was on his shoulder.

Oh god. He was soaking wet. The towel barely covered him at all.

Eddie was going to die. Right here in their bathroom.

“You good?”

Eddie choked on his next breath. Was he good?! How was he supposed to be good? Something needed to be explained.

“Uh. Robin’s a lesbian?”

Steve snorted. “She is. Very true.”

“Naked? In the shower?”

“Also very true. We do tend to be naked when we shower.”

“Together?”

“Yeah, not all the time, but we do.”

“I’m confused.”

“I know. We confuse a lot of people. It’s just a comfort thing. Routine. Don’t read into it.”

Then Steve left the bathroom like he hadn’t just blown Eddie’s mind.

They platonically showered together.

Did they platonically have sex too?!

Oh Jesus, no. Robin was definitely a lesbian. A lesbian who very much didn’t like men even 0.01%.

He stood there for a while letting his brain run the marathon. He didn’t really cross the finish line before Steve was coming back in to do his hair.

“Dude, can you go get some air or something?”

“Why don’t we platonically shower?”

What the actual fuck, Eddie. That wasn’t even a thought your brain had before. What the fuck.

He managed to look up at Steve’s face, which was bright red.

“Uh. Well.”

“Sorry. I don’t know why I asked that. Um.”

Eddie turned to leave.

Steve grabbed his shoulder before he could.

“Because it wouldn’t be platonic.” Steve cleared his throat. “If it was you. It wouldn’t be because we’re good friends. It would be because I want to see you naked. Kiss you naked. Probably other things.”

“That can be arranged.”

Eddie had no fucking clue what he was saying. Some horny demon had taken over his brain and he couldn’t control anything anymore.

But it must have done something because Steve was smiling at him like he’d just told him it was Christmas morning and Santa brought him everything he asked for.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Tonight?”

Steve giggled. He fucking giggled.

“Yeah, okay. Tonight.”

Eddie left without another word.

Tonight.

Part 2

[gurugirl]

A Good Boy | The Morning After

Summary: What happens the morning after Harry and Y/n wake up together. Did Leo hear them? Has their secret been exposed?

A/n: This is the first little check-in to give you guys something to hold on to until I get into some more substantial ones. This is a glimpse of what happens the morning after they've made a commitment to one another while they're still on vacation in Greece. ALSO - This is stepmon!reader x stepson!harry - both are adults in this story but don't read if you don't like it.

Word Count: 2360 (she's short but relevant)

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, cheating, lying, smut, age gap (-7 years)

A Good Boy Masterlist

The morning after Tyler had caught them Y/n snuck out of the room first, leaving Harry with a soft kiss and blazing hot cheeks after what they’d just done.

“Where were you?” Leo’s voice suddenly caught her off guard as she gripped the coffee carafe so it didn’t fall from her already shaky hand. Shaky because she had no idea what she was going to be facing once she saw Leo. Had he heard her and Harry?

“I slept in one of the guest rooms. Didn’t want to disturb you when I went to bed because seemed like you really needed to sleep,” she half lied. She was definitely in one of the guest rooms. But she was most certainly not sleeping alone.

“I called for you and everything. Was downstairs looking for you too,” he scratched the back of his head and chuckled, “but I guess I was pretty sloshed. Barely remember much else.”

She gulped down the sand in her throat and licked her lips. So he didn’t hear them. Or if he did he couldn’t remember it.  Either way. This bought her time to get her affairs in order and figure out the best way to break to him the news.

They had been careless the night before but part of her thought that if he did hear them, that would get the ball rolling. Surely that would be one way of delivering the news to Leo. But she preferred to tell him on her own time when they were both ready, prepared. The truth was going to come out. She was in love, and playing around with his son in secret needed to come to an end as soon as possible. Because it was no longer play. They were serious about one another. It was insane but they were going to make it work. However, best after vacation, she figured.

“He didn’t overhear us.” She closed the door to the room Harry was in and stepped toward him.

He let out a breath in relief, “Thank fuck. But now what? What’s the plan for the rest of our time here? And then after?”

Y/n stood to her toes and draped her arms over his shoulder as he grabbed her by her waist, “We’ll tell him after vacation. Once we figure out a plan. I’m not going to be sleeping with him or next to him again. I do need to at least make that clear to him soon.”

“You could bring up Parker to him? Tell him you heard him talking to her.”

Grinning she nodded, “Actually, that’s a great idea. Tell him I know he’s started to get feelings for her. That can be the excuse.”

Leo did try to initiate sex, as was expected, but she’d already made up her mind that she was with Harry. She wouldn’t be sleeping with Leo again. Ever again. And Harry’s idea about using Parker as an excuse was perfect.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked after she nudged him away from her. He’d tried hugging her and kissing her neck but she moved out of his arms and said no.

“I just…” she had to really put on her best act. Even though she didn’t care one bit about Parker she needed to state what she was about to say in such a way that it would put the kibosh on his advances again, “overheard you on the phone. With Parker. And… you’re allowed to do what you wan–“

“What? How?” He stopped in his tracks, a surprised expression, eyes wide.

“I was in the bathroom the other morning and you were on the balcony and I heard everything you said clearly because the window was open.”

Leo let his eyes wander to the edge of the bedroom in thought as he began to nod.

“And anyway… you can sleep with whom you want. We agreed to that but, Leo,” she paused until he finally looked back at her, “it sounds like… I don’t know… kind of like it’s more than just sex with her. And if that’s true then that crosses a boundary I’m not comfortable with.”

Leo was quiet for a bit as he paced back and forth. Y/n could see he was figuring out how to respond. He finally stopped and turned to look at her, “What exactly did you hear?”

She sighed for dramatic effect, “That you missed her, called her honey, said something about how many more days it would be, and that you wished it was her that was here with you.”

Blinking his eyes and looking down at his feet he nodded to himself, “Wow. I…” he looked back at his wife and ran a hand through his hair, “Y/n I’m sorry you heard that. It wasn’t… I don’t know what to say. Maybe we can talk about this when we get back home,” he took her hands in his, “Let’s not let this ruin our vacation. Okay?”

It was a sweet gesture, she felt. He wasn’t normally so gentle about things and she could tell he felt bad. Perhaps this could work in her favor. In their favor.

It was also the perfect excuse to not sleep in bed with him. She moved her clothes to the guest bedroom and Leo didn’t question it once.

And Harry was relieved his dad hadn’t overheard them. Having a little more time to figure out everything would be ideal for them both. He was set to graduate at the end of Fall that year, which meant he’d have his degree and he could get a good job. He imagined both he and Y/n renting a small apartment, whatever they could afford because he was sure his dad would cut him off once he did find out the truth.

Everyone, including Tyler, noticed the sudden change in Leo. He withdrew slightly but was polite and kind. Y/n felt a little guilty about it but it was better than Leo knowing about her and Harry and trying to finish off the vacation with that hanging over them.

But both Y/n and Harry couldn’t have been happier deep down. They maintained a healthy distance from one another during the day or anytime Leo was around. Which turned out to be a bit harder than they realized. Because once they’d both admitted their feelings they just wanted to indulge in the newness. It didn’t stop the lingering glances or quick whispers with promises, a cheeky hidden pinch, or hot stolen kisses.

And once the lights were off and everyone was in their rooms, Harry would join Y/n in her room, or she in his with the door closed and locked.

Keeping quiet was no fun but being able to imbibe in one another every night and every morning before they parted was worth covered mouths and muted moans.

Harry woke up feeling warm with Y/n’s back against his chest. She was sighing and slowly fidgeting under the sheets as she was just beginning to rouse from her own slumber.

He grinned to himself as he inhaled her scent and brought a hand up over her bare arm, “Morning.”

Her eyes were still closed when she heard his raspy tired voice in her ear, “Morning.”

Waking up early was not something either of them enjoyed, but it had been worth it to savor one another before the day began. Before anyone else woke up.

Harry’s warm hand traveled down her hip and over her thigh with purpose as she felt his mouth sponge wet kisses on her neck. Reaching behind her to pull his arm to her front she brought his hand up to her bare breasts.

They didn’t even need to say a word to know what would come next. Y/n reached down to lazily rub her clit when she felt Harry’s cock digging into her bum.

She barely even needed to touch herself to get worked up. Harry’s lips on her neck and his hand manipulating and pinching her nipples were quite enough.

Angling her hips and pressing herself back onto Harry he felt her wetness and groaned softly as he lifted her thigh and placed his cock to her wet hole, pushing through the tight muscle as he continued kissing the sensitive skin on her neck.

Stunted thrusts into her pussy were met with her own hips pushing herself down over him. Harry began to whine at the way his tip was being fucked and how tight she felt on him. It was hard to get in long deep strokes in that position but for Harry, it was sending him over the edge too fast, “Gonna come… fuck!” He spoke his words in a frantic whisper.

Y/n’s mouth dropped open when she felt him suddenly throbbing and pumping into her as he stilled his hips and tightened his grip on her thigh. He gasped and pasted his lips over her neck to keep himself quiet as he came inside of her embarrassingly fast.

When he lifted his face from her neck he groaned, “Sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to come so fast. Felt so good…”

Grinning she turned her head and moved herself so she was on her back and Harry was next to her, “It’s okay. You’ve been so good.” She spread her legs as a hint for him to finish her off.

Harry breathed out a shallow laugh as he watched her lift her hips and lick her lips, “I try to be good for you. I can still make you come,” he grabbed her thigh, positioning himself in between her legs, pushing them apart to watch his orgasm slowly drip out of her pussy. Pressing his fingers into the warm come he pressed it back into her, watching the filthy act as his fingers disappeared into her.

She moaned as he began to curl his fingers and stroke her insides slowly. He looked from her eyes to where he was fingering her, his digits coated in her arousal and his creamy come. A bit of sperm dripped down her ass he plunged his fingers in and pulled out.

“Fuck, baby. You like fucking your come back into me with your fingers?” She whispered her words.

“It’s so pretty,” he moaned his words and then lowered his face to suck on her clit and lick over her in wide, flat strokes with his hot tongue.

The moment his head was in between her thighs she pushed her hand into his hair and gripped a hold tight, “Good boy… right there. Don’t let your come go to waste, baby.”

She loved watching him eat her out. But he was good at it too, now that he’d learned exactly what she liked the most, “Yes… Lick it like that. Uughh… fuck…” She didn’t dare throw her head back like her body wanted. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on Harry’s lewd act. His mouth sucking and licking her (and consequently himself) up, his fingers pumping into her.

Harry pressed his shoulders into the back of her thighs and began digging in as deep and hard as he could like she liked. Her soft pants and gasps in the room, and the slick, sticky sound of her pussy being eaten were surely quiet enough for the early morning stillness of the house.

 And when she came she covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed, dropping her head back into the pillow against her will. She had wanted to keep her eyes on her pretty boy but he had her coming so hard her body shook and the will to keep her eyes open wasn’t strong enough to overcome her body’s natural inclination.

Harry softly licked over her as he watched her heave and tremble under him. He loved gently tonguing at her clit until she pushed him away when she couldn’t handle it anymore.

She softly giggled and bucked her hips up, sliding away from his mouth with droopy lids and a lopsided smile as Harry sat up, “How was it?”

Rolling her eyes she pulled him over her body to glue their mouths together as an answer. It was good. It was always good. She and Harry had an intrinsic connection. Something that couldn’t be forced or imagined. It was real and natural. This was her lover, her man, her soulmate.

Ending their vacation in Greece was bittersweet. Of course, it was time to get back to reality.

“I’m gonna be sad when I can’t have you in my bed every night,” Harry spoke as he sat on her bed next to the suitcase she was stuffing with her clothes. They had another hour before the driver was to pick them up and bring them to the airport for their long day of travel back to California.

“I know, baby. Me too. I think Leo isn’t going to question me being gone more often, though. Knowing what I know about how he feels about Parker. So I was thinking maybe every couple of days I could go to your dorm? Stay with you?”

That would have to do. Until they could figure out how to tell Leo.

“And how long do we do that until we finally tell him?” Harry watched her put her shoes into a shoe bag before placing it on top of the pile of clothes.

“I don’t know. Maybe Tuesday night I can come over and you and I can really discuss our plan. With you graduating soon, that might be something to factor in, you know?”

He nodded, “Yeah. We could rent an apartment together. I’ll get a job.”

“And me too. I’m gonna start looking for work,” she looked at the young man and stopped what she was doing, placing herself in between his legs and sticking her fingers into his curls, “This won’t be easy but it’s gonna be worth it. I love you.”

Harry tilted his head back and closed his eyes to bask in the feel of her fingers on his scalp. He smiled and hummed before opening his eyes to look back at her, “I know it’ll be worth it. I love you too.”

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[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done , Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : this one is pretty PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing in this chapter is warning worthy, but the story in general is going to turn pretty smutty from chapter 3 onwards and there will be strong language throughout. I’m not going to list all the different ways things get smutty unless I think it’s something that could be considered triggering. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~4.5k

A/N : this started life as an original piece that I couldn’t finish, so I decided to make a few little changes and turn it into a fanfic. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a tumblr, so sorry if I fuck this up. The story as a whole is going to veer recklessly between cute fluff and some much darker things with themes of obsession, will-they-won’t-they, and running from past trauma. Both Billy and reader are messy AF.

CHAPTER ONE

You checked your phone for what had to be the hundredth time. A measly two minutes had passed but the August heat made it feel longer. You found yourself thinking about how you were going to kill your roommate for making you chauffeur her around in the height of summer, trying to ignore the way the sticky New York heat made your tank top cling to your body beneath your unzipped hoodie.

You’d given up on waiting in the car after the first ten minutes - the AC in the old VW was busted, making it even less comfortable than sitting on the hood of the car under the glaring sun. Still, the parking lot was nicer than some of the places you’d found yourself waiting for your roommate over the years. That was the thing with Tammy; everyone around her lived on her schedule, did what she wanted to do. And you were no exception.

Actually, this whole thing was your idea. A friend, albeit in a very loose sense of the word, had told you that ANVIL were hiring office staff, and you’d passed the message along to Tammy who’d - well, she’d turned her nose up at it at first, she’d even laughed at you. But Tammy needed a job and ANVIL had a reputation for paying well.

So, you agreed to drive her to the interview and even agreed to wait.

Every now and then someone would appear - honestly, it looked like a steady stream of models leaving the building, the sorts that Tammy fit well with - but, for the most part, it was just you, mindlessly scrolling Instagram, trying not to think.

Until you saw him.

He came out the door and just stopped. It looked like he was breathing a sigh of relief at being out of there, and you couldn’t help but smirk a little at that. Poor guy.

Despite the weather he was dressed in a suit, dark hair slicked back, tall and slender. You suddenly felt out of place, like you shouldn’t be there, like you shouldn’t keep watching him, but the longer it went without him noticing you, the harder it was to try and tear away your eyes. He answered his phone as you watched, even without being able to hear a word, you knew he wasn’t happy. When he turned you got your first glimpse of his face and -

Fuck. 

Your eyes dropped back to your phone, knowing that he’d seen you watching him. Fingers swiped across the screen, jumping from Instagram to emails to Facebook, looking for anything to reply to. Your eyes stayed fixed on the phone even as you heard the shuffle of boots on gravel moving towards you, trying to act like you hadn’t been staring at him even as his shadow fell over you.

“Do you make a habit of hanging out in parking lots or are you here to interview?” His voice didn’t sound quite the way you’d imagined - though you weren’t really sure why you’d been imagining his voice to begin with. There was an edge to it, something that sent a shiver up your spine.

“I’m waiting for someone,” you answered, squinting as you looked up and the light seemed to halo around him.

“Friend?” he asked.

“Roommate,” you answered awkwardly before shaking your head, “but, yeah, she’s my friend too.”

You weren’t expecting him to laugh at that, for him to smile the sort of smile that probably had women all across the five boroughs ready to drop their panties. (And that was another thought you weren’t sure you should be having.)

He didn’t move, for a few moments he just looked at you as if he was taking measure, and all you could think about was how there was a bead of sweat rolling down your back. You probably looked completely gross while he was standing there in what looked like a professionally tailored suit that probably cost more than you could make in a year, with not a hair out of place despite the oppressive heat. 

“Does she make you wait around for her a lot?” He asked as if it was the strangest thing he’d ever heard, like he’d never allow anyone to put him in your position.

“She doesn’t drive,” you shrug, “anyway, this is nicer than most of the places she drags me to.”

“Yeah?” he prompted with little more than a raise of his eyebrow.

“Tammy’s an actress - at least, she wants to be. So I end up waiting around while she auditions.”

The look he gave you was surprisingly sympathetic. “Actresses can be hard work.” You didn’t think to ask how he knew that.

“Yeah, I’m just glad she gets to keep her clothes on for this interview,” the words slipped out and you instantly grimaced but if he noticed that, he didn’t let it show. “Not like - I mean, she’s not doing porn or anything. Not that there’s anything wrong with women wanting to -”

You could see him fighting back a laugh the more flustered you got.

“I mean, it’s not the nudity that’s a problem - you should read some of the scripts, they’re just so bad.” You finally managed. “It’s like ‘oh no the serial killer caught me with his knife and now my tits are out’.”

Silence fell again and you watched him glance away, daring to hope that he was done with you. He’d walk away and forget all about you, and you’d spend the rest of the day replaying this moment in your mind, cringing at how ridiculous you are.

“I was going to grab a coffee, your friend is probably going to be another hour or so, so if you want you could always join me?” 

You quickly started coming up with reasons why you couldn’t, why you shouldn’t. But, it was just coffee, it wasn’t like he was asking you to leave the country with him. And, besides, you weren’t sure you could stand the heat much longer.

“There’s a place nearby that does amazing iced coffee,” like he was reading your mind. And that sold it.

“Yeah, sure, that sounds great,” you decided, sliding off the hood of the car in a less than graceful manner.

Once you were standing you could really appreciate the height difference between the two of you; you almost had to tilt your head to look at him. You pushed the thought away, taking a moment to check that your car was locked up, following after him when he started to leave the way.

As you walked, it dawned on you that you still didn’t know his name, so you clumsily introduced yourself.

“Billy,” he responded with a smile, realising that he’d made the same mistake you had, “come on, it’s just across the street.”

You both fell into silence as you left the parking lot, but it wasn’t long before it got to be too much for you in an awkward, uncomfortable sort of way. It struck you that he didn’t look uncomfortable though, in fact you were already pretty certain that he wasn’t the kind of man to get uncomfortable easily. 

“So, do you work at Anvil?” You asked him, wanting to fill the silence but also wanting to know a little bit more about him. You weren’t sure what he found so funny about the question but the smirk he shot you left you feeling like you were missing something obvious and he found your ignorance amusing. You started to fiddle with your sleeves, gaze dropping from his.

“Yeah, I work at Anvil.” And then silence fell again.

When you looked up again you were outside a little coffee shop that was so small and non-descript that you’d completely missed it when you drove by it earlier. He held the door open for you and let you slip inside before following, watching as you breathed a sigh of relief as the cool air from the AC hit. When you moved towards the counter, you realised he was only a step behind, towering over you almost possessively.

The girl behind the counter smiled at him first before bothering to spare you a glance.

“What would you like?” He asked. You quickly realised that he was intending to pay and that just unsettled you further.

“I can get mine,” you were quick to tell him. You didn’t need him paying for you and you’d never been the sort to accept drinks from men you didn’t know, not even coffee. So, you ordered your drink, your favourite iced coffee with syrup, before he ordered his, an americano with an extra shot of espresso. But before you could pay, he reached over and tapped his phone on the reader, flashing you what you could only describe as a darkly mischievous smile.

“You didn’t have to -” you started to tell him.

“I know, but I wanted to,” Billy shrugged, “besides, I owe you for keeping me company.”

The girl behind the counter shot you the sort of look that made you think that she would have been more than happy to keep Billy company herself and that she saw your presence there as an annoyance. You guess that was probably the effect he had on a lot of women.

“Here you go, Billy, just how you like it,” she smiled as put your drinks on the counter, leaning and fluttering her eyelashes at him, completely ignoring you. Billy gave her a muttered thanks and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing as you reached for your drink. 

As you turned, Billy placed a hand on your back, leading you towards a table by the window, far enough from the counter that it felt a little more private. You sat on the edge of your seat, eyes nervously wandering towards the door for a second and, when you looked back, you found him watching you. There was a confidence about him that was getting harder and harder to ignore, he was clearly a man who knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it - so, what did he want from you?

Company? Or maybe you were being used to make the barista jealous? No, that didn’t feel right, he’d barely even looked at her, anything between them was obviously one-sided. Maybe you were there to keep her at bay so he could drink his coffee in peace? Though from looking at him you knew he had to be used to women fawning over him, with those dark eyes that looked right through you and the shirt that fit so perfectly you could make out the muscles beneath as he shrugged off his jacket. 

“What?” 

Shit. You realised that you’d been staring at him and your cheeks started to warm. He didn’t look bothered, in fact he was still smiling at you, amused, almost as if he wanted you to look.

“Sorry,” you apologised, dropping your eyes to the table, quickly thinking of a way to move the conversation along, “so how long have you worked for Anvil?”

“Too long,” he answered and, again, there was that little laugh, that little smirk telling you that you were missing something. Billy obviously didn’t want to talk about himself though. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Bike messenger, mostly...” you shrugged awkwardly knowing how guys like him looked down on people like you. You weren’t ashamed of what you did; it paid the rent, put food on the table, you just hated having to defend it to someone like him who probably made money in his sleep. He surprised you by not reacting - there was no look of superiority, no pity, just a nod of his head.

“Mostly?”

“What?”

“You said mostly,” 

“Oh, right, yeah. I do some work as a photographer. Just freelance and a couple of exhibitions,” you shrugged again, “it’s actually how I found out that Anvil were hiring.”

“Really?” It was hard not to notice how intently he was looking at you, like he was hanging on your every word. You started fiddling with your sleeve again.

“Yeah, sometimes I do work for The Bulletin if someone is out sick, and my friend Karen knew Tammy was looking for a job, so -”

“Karen? Frank’s girl?” 

“Yeah,” you’d never met him but Karen had been talking about him a lot since they got together, “we were talking and I guess I let slip that we might have to move to a smaller apartment if Tammy can’t find a job…” 

“High rent?”

You nodded. “Higher than either of us can really afford, but Tammy’s parents pay half and we split the rest.”

“Her parents still pay for her?”

“They’re loaded and I guess they didn’t want her having to live anywhere that might be ‘dangerous’,” you offered, but you knew how it sounded. You and Tammy were both in your thirties , it was strange that they still went out of their way to provide for her, but you didn’t fault them for wanting to look after their child, something that your own parents had never seemed inclined to do. The thought sent you down a rabbit hole and had you falling silent, wondering how he’d look at you if he knew the truth about you.

You took a drink, letting your eyes drift to the window and the street beyond. His eyes stayed firmly on you and you could almost feel him watching you. It made you tense and shift uncomfortably.

“What kind of photography are you into?” 

“Mostly candids, but since I moved to New York, I’ve been really getting into urban stuff and I’ve been playing around with architecture shots.” Billy listened, looking interested in everything you had to say in a way that had you smiling again.

“And you put on exhibitions?”

“Little shows sometimes, yeah.”

“I’d love to see one sometime.” He kept smiling at you, all his focus completely on you, and you found that you didn’t entirely mind it. It was nice talking to someone who seemed to care about what you were actually saying. “Did you study photography in college or -”

“No, I never got to go to college.” It wasn’t until you’d said it that you realised how much it gave away; that college wasn’t your choice, that you’d been stopped from going.

“I never went to college either,” Billy offered, as if he sensed your sudden discomfort. You nodded, eyes dropping to your fingers, tugging at your sleeve again. “Do I make you nervous?” He asked suddenly, pulling your attention back towards him. He was still smiling, still looking at you in a way that made you feel like he was taking you apart in his mind, piece by piece.

“What? No - that’s not -” you stumbled over your words, embarrassed that he’d caught on so easily. You took a second before letting out a sigh. “It’s not you, I just don’t do this a lot.”

“Which part?”

“The whole going for coffee with a random guy I’ve never met before.”

“Is that because guys don’t ask or because you don’t normally say yes?” He asked but didn’t give you time to respond. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I already know the answer.”

An eyebrow raised, unimpressed by the assumption; the situation might have been making you nervous but you weren’t going to take shit from a stranger. “Oh yeah, and how’s that?”

“You’re too attractive for men to ignore.” Billy shrugged and your eyes rolled. Yikes, what a fucking line.

“Maybe I’ve got a boyfriend,” you retorted, “or a girlfriend.”

Billy laughed. “You know that wouldn’t stop most guys, right?”

“Would it have stopped you?” You were pretty sure you knew the answer to that.

“I dunno, do you have a boyfriend?” He asked. “Or a girlfriend?”

“Do you?”

“Have a boyfriend?”

“Or a girlfriend.”

“Would you be here having coffee with me if I did?” He asked, turning the tables so effortlessly that it made it seem like flirting was an olympic sport and he was a gold medallist.

“Would you have asked me if you did?” You answered back, trying to fight back a smirk of your own at how ridiculous this was becoming.

“Do you always answer innocent questions with more questions?” It was obvious he was enjoying whatever this was, his dark eyes practically shining with excitement as he watched you from the other side of the table.

“You call that an innocent question?” You retorted, letting out a snort of laughter.

Billy let out another laugh, holding up his hands and signalling surrender.

“Maybe you should come work for Anvil, I bet you’re a pro at interrogations.” And that really made you laugh, and the sight of it had his gaze fixing more intently on you and his smile widening. 

“I don’t think I have the necessary qualifications to work somewhere like that,” you shrug, “besides, I like my job.”

“Really?” Usually his question would have pissed you off, but there was something in the way he asked that made it seem like he was genuinely curious to hear your reasons rather than it being some kind of judgement.

“Yeah, I get to see the whole city, there’s no office politics to deal with, and I get to listen to music all day,” you found yourself shrugging again, and his eyes were still fixed on you, like he was fascinated. So, it felt like your turn to ask; “what?”

“Nothing,” he sat back and lifted his mug, taking a long drink, “I think it’s great that you like your job, there’s a lot to be said for enjoying your work.”

“Do you? Enjoy what you do, I mean. With Anvil?” Whatever that was.

“Some days more than others,” he smiled at you.

“And today?” You asked stupidly, before considering the implications and how it might sound.

“Today’s definitely getting better.”

Your eyes dropped to your drink again, teeth running over your bottom lip. He wasn’t talking about you, he couldn’t be talking about you, but some part of you wished he was. But you wouldn’t have known even if he was, you’d never been good with those sorts of things, flirting and separating a little bit of fun from something more. Billy was an enigma to you in the same way that most people were, but there was something about him that made you almost want to break all of your rules, just to see what might happen.

“What do you do for Anvil?”

“These days I mostly deal with the bureaucracy,” and the look on his face told you just what he thought of that.

“So you don’t - I don’t know, go on missions, all Seal Team 6, kicking down doors?”

Billy let slip a laugh that was equal parts amused and offended.

“Seal Team 6?”

“What?” You laughed, awkwardly.

“You know a lot of Anvil are ex-Marine Corps, right? I’m an ex-Marine.”

“Is there a difference?” You knew there was though, honestly, you couldn’t remember exactly what it was, and the look on his face was priceless enough that you didn’t regret asking.

“Okay, wow, you’re really going to make me explain it to you?” You nodded in response. “Okay, it’s -“

Before he could start on whatever lecture he was about to give, your phone started to ring, loudly - loud enough to make you almost jump out of your skin. (You must have knocked the volume while you’d been frantically trying to look like you hadn’t been spying on him earlier.)

“Fuck, it’s Tammy,” you tell him before answering.

Moments later, you’d wish that you hadn’t. She was at the car waiting for her ride home and you were nowhere to be found, which was apparently so inconsiderate of you. You finished the call with a sigh and looked at Billy. 

“Guess her interview didn’t go well,” you took one final drink before pushing back your chair and getting to your feet. “I’ve got to go, if I leave her standing around out there I’ll never hear the end of it, it’s been -“ you stopped as he got to his feet.

“I’ll walk you back.”

“No, that’s fine, really, you don’t have to.”

“I insist.” His tone making it clear that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m sorry, she’s just -“

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

When you started towards the door, he was right behind you, again staying close to you. Outside the oppressive heat hit you again and it pissed you off; you’d been having a nice time and Tammy just had to ruin it. Now it was over and you’d never see him again. 

Billy didn’t say anything, even as you picked up the pace. You wanted to get this all over and done with, you wanted to drive Tammy back to the apartment and - you didn’t know. All you knew was that you didn’t want to be around her, you didn't want to have to deal with her bullshit, and you didn’t want to think about the man walking a step behind you. 

You didn’t see him frown at you, you didn’t dare look back because it just felt childish. You’d met him forty minutes ago, he’d probably forget you by the end of the day. 

You rounded the corner, about to cross the street when you felt his fingers around your wrist. All it took was one gentle pull and you were turning back towards him, stumbling into his arms. It felt like a moment pulled from some romcom; you spilled forward into his arms, your hands against his chest. And then you looked up, finding those impossibly dark eyes staring down at you.

Billy looked at you like he was trying to decide something, fingers still wrapped around your wrist. The, less than a second later, he was kissing you, pulling your body against his. And you let him. Later you’d tell yourself that it was shock but, in that moment, you wanted him to kiss you for no other reason than he was nice; you’d had fun getting coffee with him. It took you a moment to return to your senses, to use the hands on his chest to gently push him away.

“Billy —”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I’ve been thinking about doing that for the last thirty minutes.” He grinned. “Go to dinner with me.” You couldn’t tell if he meant it as a question or a command, but it definitely sounded more like the latter. Maybe he was just that used to women doing what he wanted them to do.

“I think you’re supposed to ask that before kissing someone,” was all you could think to say with a nervous laugh.

“Well, now I’ve asked…” And a second later, his lips were on yours again, tongue running against the seam of your lips, desperately wanting to deepen the kiss, and you let him. For a few sweet moments, you gave yourself over to him - to a random stranger you’d known for all of forty minutes.

Finally, you pushed him again, taking a step back, out of his arms and back to reality.

“I can’t,” is what you told him once you’d managed to find your voice again.

“Can’t or won’t?” He dared to try and take a step closer, forcing you to take another step back.

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“Why?” Honestly not sure you even wanted an answer from him.

“So I can figure out how to change your mind.” He explained, like he thought it would really be that simple

“You can’t.” But that just made him laugh.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got no idea what I’m capable of.” And there was something dangerous in that; you didn’t know what he was capable of. “And I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

“I told you; I don’t do this.”

“This can be whatever you want it to be. I’m very adaptable.” He reached for you again, fingers brushing your cheek before you managed to pull away.

He looked ready to say something else, like he had some line on the tip of his tongue that he was sure would convince you, his lips even parted ready, but nothing came out. You weren’t sure why until a moment later.

“Oh my god, there you are! Do you know how long I’ve been standing around waiting for you?”

Tammy. You didn’t know whether to be glad of the interruption or pissed at the tone she was taking with you.

“Sorry,” Billy stepped around you, towards Tammy, “I distracted her.”

“That’s -“ and then the impossible happened. Tammy actually fell silent. You decided that it must just be the effect that Billy tended to have on women.

“I’m Billy,” he offered out his hand and Tammy was quick to take it, no doubt falling for his charms already. And Billy, well, obviously he’d managed to get over whatever momentary insanity he’d been suffering from when he kissed you and had moved onto the next victim.

Only that wasn’t exactly what happened.

“Oh, I know who you are, Mr Russo. I’m Tammy.”

“Wait… what?” If anyone heard you, neither bothered to respond. How did Tammy know who he was?

“I hear you’ve just been interviewing to come work for me,”

For him. Not with him.

Your stomach dropped, remembering something Karen had said about a Russo, about how Frank called him a pretty boy and Karen thought he was a bit of a womaniser. He kept talking to Tammy but you barely caught a word, too stuck on everything that had happened and how you’d let it. 

“Come on, Tammy,” finally, you snapped out of it and started to walk, “if you want a ride home we need to go now.” 

You didn’t even wait for an answer, you just let her say her goodbyes to Billy.

“Let me know when you’re free to go for that dinner,” Billy called after you, You chose not to answer, some part of you hoping that Tammy wasn’t going to follow because you knew what would come next.

Fumbling for your keys, you had them in hand before you got back to your car, not daring to look behind you. What had just happened? Your lips still tingled from his kiss, you could still taste him, could still feel his hand on your hip. And some part of you was inexplicably still annoyed that the moment was over.

Tammy followed behind you, calling after, barely making it into the passenger seat before you started the car.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed and you steeled yourself for the oncoming argument, “you are the best friend ever.” 

There was no sarcasm, no anger - she was actually smiling at you. What the hell did she think you’d done?

“What?” Throwing the car into reverse and trying to ignore the fact that Billy was there, watching you as he made his way back towards the office building, his office building. There was something unknowable in his dark gaze as it followed you and, again, you found yourself thinking about how you had no idea what he was capable of.

“Flirting with Billy-fucking-Russo to get me a job at Anvil.”

CHAPTER TWO

-

END NOTES : if you made it this far, thanks for sticking around. Like I said, this is something that started out as an original piece and I was struggling to find the energy to finish it. I’ll be trying to release a new chapter at least once a week, though the second part will probably be up in a few days time because the first two chapters are really just to help set things up, and I know that’s not what people are interested in. I already have the first five chapters pretty much written, they just need some editing before going in the queue and, in total, I have around 20 chapters planned. I’ll be working on this through NaNoWriMo too, so how much I get done might change the posting schedule a little.

Likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated, though this fic will be posted regardless of engagement because I just need to get this story out of my head once and for all.

Anyway thanks for stopping by, I hope you have a wonderful day wherever you are!

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 3)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: Price has a solution to end the fighting between you and Ghost - permanently.

Chapter Warnings: cursing

Notes: Aaand here's the next chapter. Things are about to get better(?) in the next few. Konig will appear soon, I promise. Ghost will be absent for a bit though. Might write some oneshots for him to keep yall happy in the meantime. But ch. 4 is in the works!!

(Y/N) (M/I) (L/N)

“BONNIE”

D.O.B. 10.22.94 / D.O.S. 10.22.13

Navy Seal, USSF / Sniper / Marksman

-----

Price had knocked on my door this morning, waking me up at an ungodly hour on my day off. “Come to my office at nine hundred. Don’t disappoint me.” He had said. He then walked off, leaving me in the doorway with a rats’ nest head of hair and puffy eyes from crying the night before. I stared into the hallway as I processed his words. Figures… throwing a knife at Ghost wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

I peered out beyond my doorframe, watching as Price stopped in front of Ghost’s door. It creaked open, words were exchanged briefly, and then Price moved on. There was a long pause before Ghost’s door slammed shut, followed by a bang as he punched the wall in his dorm.

What a child…

I looked back in front of me; Soap, whose dorm was adjacent to mine, was poking his head out. He winced mockingly. “Ouch… I think he didn’t like your assassination attempt, lass.” He mimicked me throwing my knife.

I stared at him for a moment, unamused. “Go fuck a donkey, Soap.” I barely caught a glimpse of his pout before I slammed my door shut.

-----

I got there at nine hundred on the dot, my hair still wet from my shower, and for the first time since I had met him, Price was the one who was late. Or rather, held up in his office by someone. But, nonetheless, his streak of punctuality was broken. A bad omen, for sure…

I listened, unintentionally, to the conversation in Price’s office. I heard him speaking with a man I heard called “Jax” – a higher-up, a therapist, someone from the “HR” of the military… I didn’t know who he was. But it appeared he would be deciding how Ghost and I would get reprimanded for the rift we were causing within the team.

“Bonnie?” said the unfamiliar voice. “Like Bonnie and Clyde?” followed by an affirmative grunt from Price. “Why?”

“She’s got looks, she’s small, but she’d blow your head open for the thrill of it. And you’d best believe she never misses, either.”

The unknown man paused, glancing over the file – my file, I could tell – and reading the details. “Sniper, marksman, Navy SEAL…“

Price huffed. “Stealth is her specialty. If her head is in the game, she’s a quick thinker, and an even quicker hitman – she once took out a whole checkpoint on her own. Killed ‘em all in less than a minute n’ a half, never even made a sound.”

The man whistled low in admiration. “How’d you get your hands on her?”

“Military couldn’t handle her attitude,” Price admitted, “but they didn’t want to waste the talent either. Bought her off of them before she could end up in the wrong hands.” He sounded smug.

“Leave it to you to pull an operations team out your ass, Price.”

“If it were that easy I’d have a lot more soldiers, Jax.”

The muffled lull of their conversation continued, and my mind refocused on what I had planned to say to Price. It was never supposed to be this messy. We both made a mistake, and a damn big one. We caused issues for the team, we were only thinking of ourselves… basically, share my side of the story, and admit and own up to it all. It was the truth, after all, as well as the best possible way to come out of Price’s office with my head and my job.

Of course, I’d leave out the part where Ghost insulted me – more than once. Or, where he was the one who started the fight in the hall. I mean, technically I did… but I was trying to right my wrong, he had no reason to go after me. Why did he do that? I suddenly realized that Ghost had been seeking out fights ever since a month ago. At first, we avoided each other, but he was the one who lurked around in places I frequented, just to single me out and argue.

That fucking prick.

The conversation in Price’s office ended, ended, and the door swung open. A tall, burly man stepped out: he looked down at me with scrutiny. I stared back. He chuckled.

I tilted my head up and narrowed my eyes. “Can I fucking help you?”

“I guess we’ll see.” He replied, before walking away with a smirk on his face. I scoffed in disgust just as Price stepped out of the office.

“C’mon in, Bonnie.” He stepped aside and gestured me into the office. I reluctantly stood, stretching my limbs and trying to seem unbothered, and entered. Price closed the door behind us. Feels like I’m a kid again in the principal’s office.

I took a seat in the chair facing his desk and immediately stared at the ground. I was hoping this was just going to be some stern, disciplinary lecture. Don’t let it happen again. Which I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have lashed out at all, if Ghost hadn’t been pushing every single one of my buttons, when he was the one who created this whole landslide in the first place. Honestly if Ghost had just acted like nothing had ever even happened, like I was trying to do –

“- Bonnie, you with me?” Price said, snapping me back to the present. He was now sitting across from me and waving a hand in my direction.

I cleared my throat, doing a poor job at hiding my anxiety. “Yes sir.”

“Alright then. Let’s talk about it.”

I nodded. “Well, after the job in Mexico, maybe about a year – “

“Oh no, no…” Price cut me off with a shake of his head. “I don’t need a recap. I know everything that the two of you have been up to. The whole damn base does.”

I felt a shameful blush rise into my cheeks. If I had any confidence before walking into Price’s office, it was long gone by now. “Oh…” I mumbled.

“‘Oh’?” Price repeated. “Don’t tell me you actually thought you were goin’ under everyone’s nose, did you?” He tapped his pen on his desk with an irritated look. “Aren’t you supposed to be an ex Navy SEAL, here?”

I stared back at him, unamused and unphased by his comment. “Ok, so we may not have tried that hard to keep it a secret. But it was initially just a casual thing.”

Price nodded as he listened. “Initially… so what did it turn into? Because this – “ he gestured to me with a flourish of his pen, “ – is not from something casual.”

I couldn’t answer him. I averted my eyes to his desk, feeling his eyes burning into mine. Into my soul, trying to bring me to the breaking point. But if there was one thing I was perfect at, it was avoiding. So I let myself burn under his gaze, knowing the storm would eventually pass. One way or another.

Price sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Look, it happens. You throw a bunch of people in a room, deprive them for a few months, and stress them the hell out – they’re bound to make mistakes.”

There was that fucking word again.

“I won’t lie, I’ve been there myself.” Price continued, and I raised a curious eyebrow at him. He ignored it. “And I’m not going to try and prevent it, it’ll only muck things up more. But, when it causes such an issue that my entire team is suffering, something needs to be done. And clearly you and Ghost aren’t reaching any solutions.”

I chewed my lip, leaning my elbows on my knees and anxiously bouncing my knee. I wanted to jump in and tell him my side of the story. I knew for a fact that Price had let Ghost spill his guts on the subject. He always listened to him no matter what. I wanted to explain why I was angry, exactly what Ghost had said and how I had felt – but I know he wouldn’t listen. Not to mention, it would have been extremely personal.

“So, going off of that –“ Price reached across his desk and grabbed a pile of papers, “ – I found a solution for the both of you.”

I sighed. Therapy, workplace relationship, probably anger management for me… Honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he suggested one of us moves to the other side of the barracks –

“That man out there? ‘Jax’. Director of a private military group, just like us.” He flopped the papers on the desk in front of me. I hesitated, looking at Price with confusion, to which he tilted his heads towards the papers. “Take a look.”

I sighed and grabbed the documents. He’s got to be so fucking dramatic, doesn’t he. I scanned the first page: Major August Jax, a very decorated ex-marine. Served two terms, now owns a private military special operations force. Based in Arizona, mostly deals with hostage situations –

“I’m sorry,” I toss the papers back onto the desk. “Why am I reading this?” I asked, my tone a little too angry. It gave away that I knew exactly what Price was thinking, feigning innocence just to push it away a moment longer.

“Jax’s got a good team on his hands.” Price began. He wouldn’t look at me. I leaned forward and glared into his eyes, daring him to look back. Fucking look at me when you throw me out the window, Price.

“He’s always looking for the best soldiers to add to his group. We got wind that he’d been asking around for a marksman. I offered him you.” He paused, noticing the hurt and anger building in my expression. “You’re a good soldier, Bonnie. I would only recommend you to the best team out there. And I might not even have half a mind to do this, if it wasn’t for the situation at hand, between you n’ Ghost.” His face showed compassion, although I felt none of it. It was a façade.

Instead, I felt betrayed. Maybe I did deserve some sort of reprimand for the way I’d been acting, but this felt like a banishment. That’s exactly what it was.

“You’re kicking me off the team?”

Price sighed, facing the dreaded conversation ahead. “This is a reassignment, I’m not- “

“You’re getting rid of me.”

“You’re making this seem much worse than it is.”

“How much did he pay you for me, huh?”

“Bonnie.” Price warned. Watch yourself, now. I was treading awfully close to the edge of the knife here, but I knew he had received some sort of payment or trade for me.

I sank into the back of my chair and huffed, folding my arms over my chest. “So Ghost gets a slap on the wrist. I get sent away.” I looked away from Pierce’s stern gaze and chewed my lip. The anger was quickly boiling over. “Like a fucking dog.”

“Ghost will get his dues.” Price said. “You both were causing issues for the team, now you’re both cleaning your mess up.”

I looked back at Price, taking a moment to glower at him. “Then why does he get to stay?” I said.

Price faltered, searching for the right words. “Ghost is a lieutenant, and he’s an important member of the team.”

I scoffed. “Wow, thanks…”

“- and…” he continued, “… because he’s been a part of this team for so long, he’s essential to it. He’s a leader for the 141, and I’d be ripping the group apart if he was the one goin’.”

“I’m waiting to hear how you somehow avoid insulting me in this next part.” I sent him a glare full of daggers.

“You’re not making this easy, girl.” Price leaned back in his chair. He was unphased by my anger; one of the few who were. “You’re a wild card: you’re a damn good shot, and your wit has gotten our missions through on the better side of things, more than once. But no one outside of our team knows that. You’re good at your game, but you don’t stand out – to the enemy, anyways.”

There was a pause in the conversation as Price let me process his words. They scraped the inside of my mind like burning daggers. Why is this such an easy decision for him to make? Did he decide this last night? Or in the last few days? Looking into Price’s eyes, I felt humiliated. Like I was never as important to him or the team as he made me feel. And it felt heartbreaking, watching his unreadable expression behind his locked fingers.

“Sir, I’m not a fucking baseball card.”

“No, you’re not.” He replied. “But it’s easier for you to move teams. No one knows what you’ve been involved in, because you managed to stay under everyone’s radar. And I salute you for that – it takes a lot of skill.”

His words weren’t convincing. They felt like colorful ribbons tied around a pile of trash. I huffed. “You’re a load of horseshit, you know that?” My anger clouded my judgement as I spoke, forgetting that Price was my superior.

He sighed, seeming to fight some internal war. “Jesus, y/n, I don’t want this anymore than you do. But you know this is how it has to be.”

“Is it?!” I raised my voice (something Price seemed to fully expect, as he remained unbothered). “No – you know what? You’re right.” I got up out of my seat, walking to the far corner of the room, pacing in small circles. “Ship me off to whoever gives you the most money, why don’t you? It’s not like I was a part of the team just as much as he is. But whatever, keep your happy little group together, right? Keep your favorites and to hell with everyone else, huh? I don’t care. I don’t fucking care anymore. I just want to get the fuck away from you all, so maybe you’re onto something, John.”

Price leaned forward in his chair, looking at me with stern eyes. He made it clear that I was dangerously close to crossing a line, if I hadn’t already. “You listen hear and you listen good, alright? We do dirty work in an even dirtier world for people who don’t deserve shit. I run things smoothly by having a team that respects one another. They know they have each other’s backs out there. They work together. You’d best be very careful with what you say about how I operate my team. Now you n’ Ghost have been causing way too much trouble for way too long. It’s been affecting the whole team, and the two of you have been so selfish that you can’t even notice. You in particular have completely lost yourself to your emotions. It’s my job to make sure that my division stays in-tact and on top of their shit. And you bet that the moment I see a flame threatening to burn all that down – I snuff it out. In whichever way gets it done.”

I’d never seen Price so angry before. At least, not with me. Knowing that I had disappointed him – and was currently doing that – felt worse than a bullet to the chest. Price had saved my ass when I was about to be dumped in a military prison; I respected him for that and was forever thankful. So, when I realized how I had just disrespected him, a hint of shame tugged at my mind.

But I forced it down. He was uprooting my entire life from the past ten years and expecting me to ‘take one for the team’. Maybe I hadn’t done as much for everyone as he had done for us, but he said it himself all the time: “Your skills are unmatched.” “We would’ve had a lot more losses without you out there.” “You’re essential for a smooth mission, Bonnie.” The only reason he was doing this was because Ghost had probably talked him up about it. Ghost could really be manipulative when he wanted to… but this still hurt. It still made my blood boil, thinking that Price was so quick to get rid of me, like I was a weed in his garden.

“So that’s it.” I said, defeated, the sting of tears threatening to fall. There was no coming back from this. “I’m out.”

Price nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Afraid so.” He said curtly. He’d had enough of trying to sugarcoat things. I could tell he just wanted me to skip to the acceptance stage and start packing my bags.

I blankly stared at him. I felt my body slump as the realization finally hit. I felt the need to say something, anything, but nothing worth saying came to mind. Instead I looked at Price, sitting behind his desk, hands folded as he watched me process it all. A sudden anger flooded my veins. This is just another transaction for him. He would have done this for any situation. I narrowed my eyes as my mind was brimming with rage.

Price could tell I was getting worked up again. He sighed in annoyance, glancing at the paperwork on his desk. “Look, girl, it’s all said and done. Best you start packing your things tonight, get some sleep before you leave tomorrow.”

Like a weed. Like a thorn in his side. My breaking point had been reached. Crushed. I was back at the bottom of the ladder, where I started out with the 141.

“You know what, sir… “ I leaned over the back of my chair, placing my hands on the arm rests and glowering at Price. “… respectfully- “

“Bonnie-“ he warned, but I didn’t care.

“ -fuck you.” I shoved my finger indignantly in his face, then immediately turned on my heels. I punched open the doors to his office, feeling the buzz of my anger radiate off of me.

Price doesn’t say anything as I storm off. He doesn’t have to. The decision has been made – I could shout and curse and fight all I wanted, but I was being taken off of the team, whether they had to handcuff me and drag me out or not. I felt humiliated realizing that the whole base would be able to guess what happened, and why. I knew that Ghost wouldn’t dare open his mouth about it – but he wouldn’t stop the rumors, either. Price wouldn’t even care.

Fucking push-over. Of course he chooses Ghost. Two peas in a fucking pod, they are.

-----

I didn’t sleep. I had packed everything – my clothes, personal files, knives, and whatever else I cared to call mine – in less than an hour and in three duffel bags, which were now piled by my door. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at them. My head was empty, unable to process a single thought or emotion. I was spent from my conversation with Price. I didn’t cry after, like I usually did when I fought with Ghost. At least that will be over. I tried to think optimistically, but it was hard. It was hard to think at all. The hours ticked by like minutes as I waited for the dawn to break.

Finally, at seven hundred and nine hours, a knock rapped against the door. I knew who it was. I stood up and swiftly grabbed my bags, opening the door – Jax stood there, a proud smile on his face.

“You said all your goodbyes?” he asked.

“Yep.” I lied. I hadn’t said anything to anyone after leaving Price’s office.

“Great. Let’s get moving, then.” He grabbed one of my bags from me, throwing it over his shoulder. “I’ll give you a hand, young lady.”

Already, I could feel myself hating the reassignment. Already, Jax was treating me like a fragile, sensitive girl. To be fair, the 141 did at first, but they had grown to see me as the skill and potential that I am. An independent soldier. I didn’t want to start over and try to prove myself to a new team. No use crying over it now.

I followed Jax, passing Soap as he stood leaned in his doorway, looking melancholic. I looked back, emotionless. I would miss him. He was one of the only people I would miss at this point, after what had gone down. He was always there to listen, and either offer solutions, or just let me vent. Whichever I needed, he provided. Losing him was going to hurt the most.

But I wasn’t going to let it. I turned my head from him and kept moving.I saw that it looked like Soap wanted to say something. I ignored it.

Beth and Skyline weren’t there. Neither were Gaz or Price. I knew Ghost was somewhere, lurking from the sidelines as I loaded my bags onto a heli. But I didn’t care. I did, but I didn’t let myself look back. If I did I would be in shambles, realizing how much I needed this place and the people here. I felt like a tree being torn out of the ground, roots hanging in the air, searching for a place to ground myself. As long as I didn’t look back, as long as I pushed back the pain and the loneliness, the voice in my head screaming for me to get closure, to say goodbye and get one final look – I would be fine. Or at least, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

I slapped a headset over my ears, sliding into the back of the heli. Jax and an unfamiliar soldier sat in the front as we prepared to take off. “Where are we headed?!” I asked over the deafening sound of the spinning blades. I ignored the sickening feeling of loss that ebbed in the back of my mind.

“Didn’t you read the file from Price?!” Jax turned and looked at me through his dark sun glasses, a smirk resting on his lips. “We’re going to Czech Slovakia!!”

[throneofsapphics]

the moth and the flame part four: the breakdown

poly!Nessian x f!Reader

summary: after meeting Nesta in a bookshop, you find the darkest parts of yourselves bonding with each other. Naturally, Cassian finds himself entangled with the two of you.

warnings: drinking

a/n: he's hereeeeeeee

series masterlist

Yes, she was mated to Cassian - but she hadn’t forgotten about you. You were impossible to forget about. Each day she would find little reminders of you. In the clouds, the different colored leaves, the beauty in between all of the busy spaces. You were in all of the small things in her life but she found those little things added up quickly.

Fuck, Cassian knew all about you too. He might even be more eager to see you than she was to see you again. Not that Nesta didn’t, but even she could admit she was a bit scared of your reaction. Neither of you were the most rational people together but she couldn’t let you go, not without seeing you again, maybe not after that.

“When’s the big day?” Cassian grinned, bringing his sword up to cross in front of him, blocking her blow.

“Never,” she grunted, reentering herself.

“Enough, Ness.” Cassian’s voice had that hint of command that made every Fae instinct in her stand up and pay attention.

“What?” She half-snarled.

“You need to go see her. It’s killing you.”

Nesta gave him her back, “If you’re not going to be a good sparring partner, I'll find another.” He scoffed, but didn’t call her bluff. Did you know how to spar? Would you want her to teach you? Nesta tried to push you out of her mind but you’d carved yourself a small corner in there, no matter how hard she’d tried recently she couldn’t quite and didn’t quite want to evict you.

Nesta didn’t like going out to taverns much anymore. Yes, she would have the occasional glass of wine but that was about it. Somehow, she allowed herself to be dragged out to Rita’s with the inner circle.

She sat in the corner of the bar, watching Cassian and Feyre dance like idiots, nursing her singular - that’s all she would have tonight, she was determined - a glass of wine, when she caught a hint ... No, Rita’s wasn’t your stomping ground. In fact, you told her you’d sworn the bar off. Had you lied and really been coming here the whole time? Or did not want Nesta to show?

She shook her head. Half a glass of wine and she was already thinking like you were somehow together. Well ... you didn’t exactly get a chance to tell Nesta you weren’t, and until then perhaps she’d just assume otherwise to make herself feel a little better.

The ‘feeling better’ disappeared the same instant she caught a glimpse of familiar movement. She knew who moved her hips justlike that, and just what a movement like that could do to another body.

Skin-tight red dress, jewel tones bringing out your naturally radiant skin, lipstick a perfectly matching shade. You’d pointed that dress out to her before, called it your revenge dress, one you’d wear out to flaunt in front of someone who wronged you.

If anything ... the dress was a calling sign to Nesta.

Apparently it worked on others too, because the second you stepped onto the dance floor a male was there.

And his hand was ... Nesta felt her body move instantly as the male’s hand drifted down, cupping your perfect ass. Hers.

You belonged to her.

Near animal instinct took over as she stalked across the dance floor. Her arm reared back as she approached, your eyes widening as you spotted her, the male still in ignorance. Not for long.

A hand closed over her own closed fist, spinning her back in a circle, not unlike a ballroom dance. She knew that hand and those callouses.

Cassian.

“What are you thinking?” He snarled, “I know it’s her, but you can't go punch random males.”

She tried to tug her hand out of his put his grip on her was iron tight. “You’d do much worse.” Nesta shifted to the side, a wing flared out to block her view.

“Quit,” she snapped. “Let me go.”

To her chagrin, he didn’t release her. It was probably a smart choice, but she hated it. That male needed to be put in his place ...

“That’s not your job to do,” a sweet voice came from behind her. Nesta hadn’t realized she’d said that last phrase out loud. “But I recommend you release her,” you followed up.

She spotted a glass out of the corner of her eye, ruby red liquid tilted just to the edge, poised over Cassian’s head. You had no idea who the male was to her, possibly didn’t recognize him from this angle. No, you were too smart not to recognize him.

You didn’t care. You’d dump your drink on the general of the Night Court for her. She was flattered at the slight bullheadedness and stupidity.

“It was for your sake, sweetheart,” his mouth opened, white teeth glinting in the dim light - a signature smile playing on his lips. One that probably had several females dropping to their knees in the past. Not you.

Still, Nesta’s nostrils flared at his tone with the last word. Borderline derogatory. If she wasn’t careful this could turn into a three-way brawl.

“Sweetheart,” Nesta mocked, sickeningly sweet. Cassian winced. “How about you give us some space?” Your drink looked even more precarious now, Cassian barely side stepped a single drop that would’ve landed on his white shirt.

Cassian read the room and backed away, both hands held up and mirth in his eyes. You were looking at him with an expression Nesta couldn’t read, and she didn’t like that.

“Is that your mate?” You said quietly after he disappeared.

Nesta wanted to lie to you. She wanted it more than anything else. Yes, he might be her mate but what the two of you had together went beyond and above any kind of mating bond.

“Yes,” the word was choked.

You slipped a hand into your pocket, a dress with pockets - of course you had one. Nesta knew what was inside and imagined the little red pill swirling back and forth between your fingers, your mind begging you to toss it down your throat. Those would kill you one day, she knew it. 

“I think we need to talk,” you sighed, glancing behind you, jerking your chin towards someone. From her peripherals, Nesta saw a few females melt away into a crowd. Waiting for a signal from you. When did you make friends? The last she knew, the two of you were all each other had. But ... she supposed she’d made friends as well. You were entitled to move on with your own life. She could hardly expect for you to wait around in limbo while she disappeared for several months, logically Nesta knew that but by the gods she wanted you to. Logic had no place between the two of you.

taglist: @breadsticks2004 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @rowaelinsdaughter @fightmedraco @acourtofbatboydreams @readinggeeklmao @krowiathemythologynerd @kooterz @anxious-study

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

a knife in the dark, pt. 3

[adar/oc]

read part 1 | part 2

Set in the "Awake, Arise"-verse (I'd recommend reading at least chapters 1-9 if you haven't already to get the history of these characters) PREMISE: Erenyë is reembodied in Valinor, but Mandos shrouds her memories of Utumno, hoping to spare her pain in her new life. But she is restless in Aman, sensing that something is missing... She boards a ship heading for Middle Earth, hoping to discover just what that is.

OKAY PEEPS AS PROMISED, HERE'S THE SPICE. [cw: blood, knife-play, implied previous dubcon/noncon, related to the creation of the orcs]; M rating applies.

ENJOY. (don't look at me.)

Cuiviénen.

Her blood sings at the sound of the word. She does not know how it could be true, only that it is. She begins to pick up the scattered pieces, the visions that she had seen: a lake under stars… water flowing over stones… tall, primordial trees…

With eyes full of questions, she lets the dagger fall away from his throat. “And you…”

“I was yours,” he says, tremulous and yearning. “And you were mine.”

A breeze moves gently through the glen, and in her mind’s eye, she catches a glimpse of him, young and uncorrupted—his skin unblemished as he steps into a patch of moonlight, breathless after chasing her through the wood.

She remembers how she’d led him through the trees after he’d caught her, down to a secluded place by the waterside. She remembers how they’d spent blissful hours discovering one another beneath the stars, how much she’d hungered for him.

She realizes then that she knows his name—for it is an inextricable part of her own: Eren.

“Oh,” she gasps, struggling to reconcile that vision of Eren with Adar who sits before her now, still bound to the tree. She can still make out unmistakable traces of his elvenness—his pointed ears, his high cheekbones—but his terrible transformation from elf to orc is clear.

She squeezes her eyes closed, overwhelmed suddenly by more memories of her own—of time spent in darkness and torment. For she had not escaped a similar fate…

Despite the strengthening sunlight, she is suddenly pulled down, plunged into icy waters—she is drowning in cold, swimming in a sea of terrible truth.

“I was with you,” she says, discovering it slowly. “In that dark, nameless place. They brought me to you, after I had been changed… after I had forgotten your name, and mine.”

She lets out a strangled sob, remembering the chamber, remembering being held down, remembering Morgoth, watching. “He forced us.”

As quickly as they’d returned to her—those blissful memories of starlit Cuiviénen—they are eclipsed by this single, horrible fact. As quickly as everything had come together, it now smashes, like a pane of glass against stone.

Erenyë crumbles with a terrible cry, wrenched from the depths of her soul as she comes to full understanding. They had been used—both of them—by Morgoth, to create the race of the orcs. She hearkens back to the hordes of snarling creatures that had attacked her party earlier. With a wave of nausea, she realizes that they are descended from her.

She looks back at Eren—Adar, she reminds herself. He is Adar—an orc, an enemy. She considers leaving him there, bolting off into the forest, returning to Pelargir, forcing the ship to turn around and return her to Valinor.

But Valinor is not her home…

At last, she understands the reason why she’d always felt incomplete. She never belonged in Valinor, not truly. She belongs with him—he is her purpose, her place in this world.

But she does not know how to have him now, after everything.

She is no longer the wild elf-maid who had danced carefree through the forests at Cuiviénen. Now, she feels broken and afraid—and she senses that he is, too. They are both changed, though her body bears the physical scars no longer.

“Erenyë.” His voice, barely a whisper, pleads with her. “Á cene ni.”

Look at me.

His unlovely face is bathed in golden sunlight. As the moments slip past, she allows everything else to fall away, piece by piece, until she focuses only on him. She allows herself to see him—to see in him that which Morgoth could never destroy, and what even the turbulent storms of ten thousand years could not weather away. She feels a hunger stirring deep within her, a hunger that only he has the power to slake.

She is utterly at a loss for how to proceed, but she feels a faint flicker of the boldness she’d once possessed, and it helps her to take the first step. She returns, kneeling over him, straddling his legs, reaching out with her free hand—the one not still clutching the dagger.

To her great surprise, he recoils from her, shaking his head.

“I do not deserve your touch,” he says, his voice thick with self-loathing. His eyes fall to the knife in her opposite hand, and she understands that given the choice of pain or pleasure, his preference now is for the former.

With a terrible pang, she wonders if he can even remember what tenderness feels like.

A part of her is angered by his denial, but she strives to accept it. They are neither of them who they once were, she reminds herself. They must forge a new path through the ashes.

She raises the dagger, letting it rest lengthwise against his cheek. Taking a steadying breath, she digs it into his skin enough to make him wince and squeeze his eyes shut.

“How are you here?” he murmurs, incredulous, as a single tear escapes.

She leans in, tilting her head toward him until they are almost nose to nose. She breathes him in, her body slowly relearning how to be close to his. She shifts, rolling her hips tentatively, experimentally against his legs, feeling heat kindling to life deep within her core. Her lips move close to his ear. “I am here,” she replies.

He shivers, leaning into the blade like a caress. Angling it carefully so that it will not rend, she traces it down the side of his face. His eyes open, and they are tinged with the haze of deep memory.

“I watched you die,” he says, laying his anguish bare before her, and it is a gaping chasm so wide and deep she fears her own heart to be in danger of splitting into and falling into it.

She had been so caught up by her own harrowing discoveries, she had not yet fully contemplated that while she had lived long in ignorance of their torment, he had wandered the world carrying the full weight of everything that had befallen them under Morgoth’s hand.

“I came back for you,” she breathes, seeking to reassure him, to assuage his anguish as best she can. She wishes he could accept softness, and she offers up a silent prayer that in time, he might come to do so. But for now, she drags the blade again, letting the tip of it settle at the center of his lower lip. He is trembling now, and his breathing is heavy as he begs her silently with his eyes.

She lets the dagger pierce him, splitting his lip in two and drawing blood. And then she dives, hungrily, unwilling to wait any longer, swallowing his gasp of surprise with her mouth. He resists at first, but she moves the blade to his throat—a gentle but direct threat. He acquiesces, opening himself to her kiss. She does not try to be sweet; she devours, letting their teeth gnash together before moving to nip and suck at the wound she’d made.

He moans against her mouth, and she remembers the thrill of being needed by him. How, she wonders, had she survived for so many years without this?

She twists the fingers of her free hand into his hair, pulling his head back so that she can assail his neck. She nicks him with the dagger several times in succession, letting him feel pain for only a moment before allowing him the balm of her lips. His black blood tastes bitter on her tongue, but she savors it, nonetheless.

With a sharp intake of breath, he shifts beneath her and she grinds herself down hard against the cradle of his hips, the heat between her legs blooming until it is slick and wet and impossible to ignore.

She pulls back, lowering the dagger to the cord of elven rope that binds him. Hesitation flickers across his face, but she grips his chin in her free hand, jerking him toward her to claim his lips again. “Grant me this,” she says when they are both breathless, resting her forehead against his.

He makes a noncommittal noise in the base of his throat, and she prepares her argument, but he interjects before the words reach her lips.

“Grant me one thing in return.” He leans back ever so slightly, his eyes raking over her face, coming to rest on the long, dark braid draping over her shoulder. “Your hair,” he implores. “Undo it.”

Warmth floods her chest. It is such a simple request, but as she moves her hand to undo the cord, he watches her with a startling intensity, and as she begins to finger the strands free from the braid, she realizes that she had never worn her hair this way back in Cuiviénen, and that his request is born out of a desire to see her as she had been then.

His breath hitches as he watches her, and she slows her movements, taking deliberate care as she unwinds the rest, combing through her dark locks carefully until they fall free at last, framing her face.

“There was starlight in your hair on the night of our awakening,” he murmurs, his voice dreamlike. “I have never forgotten it.”

His desire for her is so guileless, so open, as it ever had been since their earliest days, and she feels a sudden burst of incandescent joy amid all the anguish that had passed between them during their reunion.

She takes his face between her hands, heedless of his earlier talk of undeserving, and kisses him fiercely, thumbing over his scars and broken skin. Then, with haste, she reaches down for the dagger she had dropped, and slices cleanly through the elven rope, freeing him, wanting nothing more than to feel his arms enveloping her.

But he does not match her fevered pace—and when he does reach for her, it is to lightly stroke her hair. He does so with reverence, as though handling a holy relic. She leans into his hand, placing her palms upon his chest to brace herself, for even under this lightest of touches, her knees grow weak.

His armor is firm and solid—an outer shell that she longs to remove. She wants nothing between them, just as it had been when they had lain together in the eldest of elder days. But as she gropes for the fastenings, he catches her wrists, and the pained look in his eye tells her no.

She wants to ask if he means never or not yet, but she is frightened to learn the answer, so she leans in soundlessly, winding her arms around his neck, knitting her body against his, coaxing his lips to part for her once more.

She is confused by his unwillingness and wracked by feelings of selfishness for wanting him so recklessly. She prays he will not notice her hot, anguished tears as they begin to fall. But she soon tastes their salt, and she knows he can, too. He pulls back, and she drops her eyes immediately, ashamed.

She feels the cold kiss of metal as his gauntleted hand tips her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His face is contrite yet pained—he hides nothing from her.

“For you, it was once,” he explains, and she knows immediately that he is speaking of their violation in Utumno. She clenches her jaw, feeling the icy, sick sensation overwhelm her again as he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “For me, it was… many times. Always at Morgoth’s command.”

Her heart shatters at his confession. The death she had suffered—it had been a mercy. She understands that fully now. Her tears fall faster as she aches for everything she imagines he’d endured, alone. Without her.

She yearns to comfort him, but to her distress, she realizes that she does not know how—she does not know anymore what will soothe him, or if there is anything that can.

With a shuddering intake of breath, he continues. “Being lost to lust—I fear it now.” He looks to her mournfully. “But I do long for you.” His unclad hand caresses her now, sliding slowly down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, over her belly and down to the cleft between her legs. “Oh, how I long for you,” he growls low, stroking her there.

She cannot contain the cry of pleasure that breaks free, and to her surprise, he smothers it with a sudden, scorching kiss.

His hands move to unfasten the clasp of her cloak, letting it fall away behind them. Snatching her around the waist, he tips her back, laying her out on top of it, a silken barrier between her and the ashes that lie beneath it. He kneels carefully over her, and she watches a silent struggle play out upon his face. He breathes in deeply, finding steadiness within himself.

She waits, as patiently as she can manage, though every inch of her feels raw, and in desperate need of his hands. One by one, he undoes the fastenings of her tunic, unfolding the fabric gently, unwrapping her, letting the morning sun soak her pale skin. A ripple of delight courses through her as she watches him look down upon her, followed by a surge of impatience. She thinks she sees the edges of his lips curl up ever so slightly as he slides his fingers beneath the hem of her trousers, as he begins to tease them slowly down her legs.

His unhurried pace is maddening. She bucks her hips as he strips the garment finally away, releasing a pathetic whimper. He returns it with a satisfied growl that sounds from deep at the base of his throat, before lowering his head, planting a chaste kiss on the skin just above her hip. His bare hand moves to cover her breast, fingers sinking into a slow caress as his lips forge their own path across her abdomen and lower.

When he reaches the place where she needs him most, he delays no further—her legs part as his tongue finds her center. She undulates in pure, simple, velvet-soft ecstasy, as half-conscious sighs and moans fall freely from her lips.

The sensation of his mouth upon her sex makes her deliciously weak, but she summons enough strength to raise her head enough to look down and watch him, his dark head between her thighs, eyes closed in concentration, his grey hand kneading her breast, his iron gauntlet gripping her hip, the sharp spikes of his fingers sinking into her flesh.

Within a few moments, she is finished, reduced to quivers and cries as she comes undone beneath him.

His face swims into view above her, wan and satisfied, his green eyes cloudy with arousal. She clasps him around the neck, pulling him down to kiss her, catching the trace of her own tang still upon his tongue. Finding more strength, she rises somewhat clumsily, moving to straddle him once more, so that his back is against the tree.

They are both breathless, and for a moment, they linger in stillness. Her hand drifts to his forehead, brushing strands of dark hair away from his face. Then she leans forward, kissing along his jawline before teasing at his ear with her teeth. He gasps at the sensation, hands digging deliciously into her bare back.

She presses her body close to his, flattening her breasts against the hard plate of his armor, rocking so that she feels the friction of his mail against her flesh. Her hunger for him—having been momentarily sated—comes roaring back, and her motions grow more frantic as she confronts again a deep sense of emptiness between her legs, aching to be filled. She trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, each an invitation.

Please, she begs in between them.

His hands abruptly leave the base of her spine, and for a moment she fears that they have reached the end—that she has asked too much, pushed too far.

She buries her face in his neck, unwilling to tear herself away. But then she feels something brush against her—something hard that teases at her still-weeping entrance. She sucks in a sharp breath, glancing down at the space between them. He is holding the hilt of the dagger against her slit, clutching it in his own hand by the blade, and she can see a thin rivulet of black blood running down his fingers. He winces, but she reads in his face just how much the pain grounds him, and she remembers his earlier words, his fears of being fully lost to lust.

This, she realizes, is what he can offer her now. All she can do is accept it and be content, and live in hope that together, they might conquer the rest in time.

It is a challenge that she is more than willing to accept for him, and she tells him so with a deep, passionate kiss. Pulling back, she locks her eyes onto his, letting herself sink down onto the hilt, as a breathy moan begins at the back of her throat. He manipulates the dagger gently, pressing it inside of her as the sound deepens and lengthens. His forehead droops against hers and they breathe in time together with each thrust until she comes, and his hand is covered in blood.

With her body still quaking from the aftershocks, she wastes no time in tending to him. Reaching for her cloak, she tears a strip of fabric and binds his mangled palm. When she finishes, she holds his hand carefully in both of her own.

Where will we go now, she asks him, suddenly fearful of what may lie ahead.

Home, he answers. To Mordor.

...y'all still with me?

want more?

[i have some ideas]

lemmeknowkthanksbai

[ggukkiedae]

notes: hannah tries her best to send taeyong off to the navy. (dialogue written in italics are spoken in english)

setting: jeju international airport, 240415

wc: 1,175

content warning: taeyong’s enlistment

“You good, Hans?”

Mark’s voice pulled Hannah back down to earth. As soon as he sat down next to her, she leaned into his side and glanced at Donghyuck, who stood a few steps away on the phone with Taeyong. She was the last of the three of them who’d be on the phone with him since they decided to go by age.

She groaned while pulling her hat down by the visor. Next to her, Mark was shuffling in his seat until he had his arm around her, lightly patting her shoulder.

“This isn’t fair,” she ran her hand down her face. “Is it so hard to say no to even just one event so we could have all come home yesterday?”

She could feel the 99-liner squeeze her shoulder, “You know how it is, Hans. Hyung knows, too.”

“We tried so hard,” she slumps further into his side, “and we don’t even get a glimpse of him in real life before he leaves!”

The two of them could only sit in silence after that. The three 127 maknaes had taken it upon themselves to rearrange their schedule in order to reach their leader’s send off, but they were beat.

That’s how they found themselves in Jeju.

The stress of trying to make it in time was something she didn’t think she’d ever go through. Months ago when their leader first told them he was enlisting, she thought she’d be right there with the rest of 127 (and maybe all of NCT) to send their leader off.

She didn’t expect to look at their managers’ itinerary only to find they wouldn’t even be in Korea on the day of.

“Hyung wants to know why his princess is pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Hannah looked up to glare at Donghyuck until she realized who was on the small screen looking at her. “Oppa!”

The older 00-liner snickered while handing her the phone and placing the bluetooth headphones over her ears. In her excitement to stand up, she elbowed Mark in the ribs.

“I gotta take this,” she jogged over to the isolated corner for a semblance of privacy then looked at the smiling man on the screen. “Boss! How are you? Are the oppas treating you okay? Did you get my present? Have you met any other people you’re entering with?”

“Calm down, Haeeunie,” Taeyong chuckled, “breathe. I’m alright, missing you kids. Everyone’s treating me the same, I haven’t really met anyone yet, and what present?”

A grin made its way to her face, “I snuck something into your backpack last week when I helped you pack some stuff.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he smiled at her.

Seeing him smile pulled at something in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, slipping her sunglasses on. She did not want to cry in front of Taeyong, but it felt impossible to do. She went for the second best option: not letting him see.

“Hey,” Taeyong held his phone closer to his face so she could only see one of his eyes on the screen, “I want to see your face before I go.”

That did it. A tear escaped.

“Oh,” she sighed while taking off her hat and moving her sunglasses up her head to hold her hair back, “I hate that we’re not there with you!”

He gave her a sad smile once he held his phone at a normal angle again, “Don’t worry about it. We know how hard you three worked to get here, and I love you for it. You did everything you could, and that’s what matters, alright?”

“Alright,” her voice came out as a whisper. “I’m really sorry, Oppa.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Haeeunie,” he reassured her. “I promise. And you know I don’t take my promises lightly, especially not with you.”

She bit her lip, nodding instead of talking. Talking would just make her cry harder. But Taeyong wasn’t done talking.

“You know what?” His tone brightened, “I’m going to make you another promise right now. After basic training, when I get my phone back, you’ll be the first person I call after my mom and my sister. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” to her luck, her voice didn’t shake, “and I’ll have Hyuck and Markie with me.”

“Good, good,” Taeyong nodded.

Hannah smiled, “And you bet I’ll drop any schedule I have then and there and drag those two with me so we can talk to you.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t expect any less.”

“Unfortunately?”

“As your leader,” he shrugged with a mischievous smirk, “but, as one of your big brothers, I say have at it, Boss Lady.”

Laughs slipped past her lips, in time with his. “You better look out, oppa, because I’m planning on doing something to anger the company for not having the balls to reschedule or say no to one event.”

He grinned at her, “Can’t wait for you to tell me all about it. Don’t give your oppas too much grief.”

She was about to retort when a muffled voice caught Taeyong’s attention. His frown told her all she needed to know.

“How much time you got there?” she asked him.

“Not a lot,” he admitted, “but I’m gonna tell you what I need you to hear right now before I leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

“First of all,” he began, “it’s not your fault, okay? We can put the blame on the weather. Second, I miss you, and I’m going to miss you, but this’ll pass and either you’ll be able to visit me or I can go on leave. Watch over the boys, you know most of our brain cells rest in you. But also don’t forget to allow them to take care of you. I love you, Haeeunie, a lot.”

“I love you, too, Oppa,” she smiled at him, wiping away the tears that were starting to fall. “You stay safe. Don’t get sick, don’t get hurt.”

“I’ll try my best,” he nodded, “now go and get the other two with you so I can say bye to all of you!”

With a nod, she walked back to the two boys with her, sitting on Donghyuck’s lap and throwing her legs over Mark’s. She handed the phone to Mark, who turned the bluetooth off.

“You kids take care of each other,” Taeyong began with a smile. “I’ll see you when I see you. It won’t be too long.”

The three 127 maknaes said their goodbyes and watched as Taeyong clicked out of the call. They sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at the black screen.

That was it.

That was them sending their leader off. That was the first time they were sending off one of their big brothers, and this was how it ended.

“This isn’t fair,” she muttered, leaning her head on Donghyuck’s shoulder.

Her twin flame sighed, “It really isn’t.”

“It’ll be okay,” Mark gave her knee a squeeze. “Hyung knows we love him and that we’d do anything to be with him right know. He’ll be okay.”

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drop an ask or a dm if you wanna be added or taken out of the taglist 🥰 requests are also open!

[eilishalways]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

caught your eye

summary: someone catches billie’s eye at the met gala, and things get a bit steamy.

warnings: kinda suggestive

a/n: first post!! hope you guys like it 💋

billie stepped out of the car, finneas by her side. “you ready?” he asked. billie responded “i’ve done this before. i’m fine.” “yeah,” finneas replied, “but only once. just checking in, that’s all.” “sorry- i guess i’m just kinda nervous.” billie apologised. they made their way to the start of the stairs with an eruption of screams and camera flashes. although this was only billie’s second met, she had done many red carpets before this, so she knew how to handle the bright cameras. she posed alone and alongside her brother before moving on to the next bit of the carpet to pose again. as she headed up the next few steps, she turned her head to where she had came in through, and stopped still for a moment.

in came what billie reckoned to be the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen - wearing a stunning dress and adorned in jewellery that complimented it perfectly. billie was starstruck. she kept staring until finneas tapped her on the shoulder “billie! what’s wrong?” he asked. billie was snapped out of her trance, telling her brother nothing was wrong & continuing on with him to the next part of the carpet.

it would be another half hour before billie made it to the top of the stairs and was greeted by anna wintour. she only talked to the stylish woman briefly, her head occupied by the gorgeous woman she had seen earlier. she went inside the event with her brother and started to look around the exhibition. she admired the different outfits half-heartedly, not able to stop thinking about the woman. until she caught a glimpse of a beautiful dress, and went round the corner to follow it, leaving her brother behind.

billie stopped still when the woman turned to face her. “oh- hi. billie, isn’t it?” she asked. billie stuttered “oh- uh- yeah…” “my names y/n.” you said. “that’s- that’s a gorgeous name.” billie replied. “thank you, billie. how are you?” you asked her. billie blushed, silently berating herself for getting flustered at such a simple question. “i’m good,” she said finally, “how are you?”

the two of you chatted for a while, until finneas went looking for billie and found her there, talking to you. by then it was time for the dinner, so billie introduced you to her brother while the three of you walked to the place you’d be having it. sadly you weren’t seated at the same table, so you had to separate. throughout the meal, billie kept thinking about you, so much so that she couldn’t hold a conversation with anyone at her table. towards the end of it though, she saw you leave your table to go to the bathroom, and she decided to follow. “sorry,” she said to the people she was barely talking to, “i’ll just be a minute.”

billie entered the bathroom just seconds after you did, and grabbed your arm. “hey,” she smiled, “how are you finding the dinner?” “honestly, i’m not a big fan - the whole fancy ‘barely anything there’ dish isn’t my thing.” you laughed. billie agreed with you, grinning. “i’ve been dying to talk to you this whole time.” you said. billie blushed “oh- really?” she asked. “mhm… you’re good company. the people at my table are so boring.” you complained. you continued to whine about the people you had to sit with, nit-picking their annoying personalities one by one. “yeah,” billie said, “i’m kinda the same. i can’t focus on a conversation with any of the people i’m sat with.” you laughed quietly, and asked why. billie suddenly got hesitant, but told you why. “well,” she started, and looked down, “i keep thinking about you.” she looked back up, expected to see your disgusted or annoyed face, but was instead met with a smile.

“oh really?” you grinned. billie blushed harder than before. “mhm.” she answered. there was a pause, then you put your hand on billie’s cheek and kissed her. she was startled for a second before kissing you back. it started off pretty innocent, but it quickly escalated until to two of you were messily making out. billie took a quick break to lock the door before she back to you, not wanting to stop at all as her heart rate increased. you pushed her up onto the counter beside the sink and continued to make out with her. seconds turned into minutes, and before you knew it, it had been half an hour.

billie didn’t wanna stop, but when she got a text from her brother asking her was she alright, she knew you two had to finish. she left the bathroom with her lips a little more swollen and her cheeks a little more red.

[clangenrising]

Month 13 - Newleaf

Life in the wild cat camp moved slowly. Mystique spent the first day talking with their leader, Goldenstar, and Russetfrond, who seemed to be her second in command which was less than ideal. The wild cats had all sorts of questions about Razor and the city and their plans and her intentions and she could understand why but she eventually had to admit that she didn’t have that much to tell them.

“Look, you’re asking the wrong cat,” she had said when pressed about battle plans. “I know how to fight but I’m not like… in charge of training the Chaff or strategizing or anything. Razor keeps all that stuff between him and his friends. I just hang out and do odd jobs now and then, like watching Ginge- I mean, Scorch.”

“Right,” Goldenstar had nodded. “You were asked to keep her from running away, correct?” 

Mystique had shifted uncomfortably. “No, I mean… He asked me to keep her safe, that’s all.” She still didn’t feel ready to examine that train of thought too closely.

“Sure,” Russetfrond had huffed in that infuriating way he had a habit of huffing, “and that’s why she wasn’t allowed out of your sight ever.” 

“Yes!” Mystique’s tail had lashed back and forth over her back. “Is that so unbelievable?” 

“Thank you for answering our questions,” Goldenstar had quickly ended the conversation. “I apologize again for needing to keep you here. Just let your guard know if you need anything.” And they had left her in the empty den. In the days that followed, there were no more questions, although Russetfrond did come by to check in with her guards and glare at her. She entertained herself by poking fun at him. He always took the bait and he always ended up stomping off in a huff after a few minutes. That at least gave her a little satisfaction. 

The rest of the time was much duller though. She wasn’t allowed to leave the den except to scat. Her meals were brought to her by the younger cats - apprentices, if she’d heard right - and she was starting to get used to eating mice but she missed her kibble and gravy treats. Sometimes she would try to strike up conversation with the guard, depending on who they were, and sometimes she slept, but for the most part she just watched. 

She learned their schedules, picked up on their habits. She had a pretty good sense, in her opinion, of who was friends with who. Scorch seemed to be friends with no one even though Goldenstar and the loud ginger tom seemed to be trying very hard. 

One time, she and Scorch made eye contact as she was coming back from a sanitary break with her guard. Scorch had lifted her head with an aloof twitch of her lips but Mystique noted the split second before it where her ears flicked back. If she wasn’t mistaken, the expression was one of guilt. 

That puzzled her. Everything about Scorch was puzzling, honestly. It was like she was always performing this gracious, all powerful being but you could catch a glimpse of something underneath if you were looking right. Mystique still wasn’t sure what kind of beast she had glimpsed slithering beneath the surface and when she thought too hard about it she inevitably ended up thinking about Razor and that was where that ended. 

She didn’t want to think about Razor right now. Alarms flashed in her head every time she tried. You won’t like it in here! they cried, You don’t want to see the shadow truth! Turn around! She always turned around. Still, there wasn’t much to do but sit and think and it was driving her mad. If she didn’t find something else to do soon, she just knew she was going to ignore the warnings out of sheer boredom so she decided to find a distraction and fast.

One afternoon, when this need for something else gripped her, she looked over at her guard for the day and sized him up. He was smallish and round, with a face almost but not quite flat and black spotted fur. He’d been pleasant with her the other time or two he’d been assigned to watch her. As she stared, he seemed to notice and awkwardly turned his head to look at her. 

“Hey, there,” she said, sprawled out near the entrance of the den where he was sitting. 

“Um,” he shifted and straightened his posture, “hello.” 

“Remind me your name?” she asked.

He smiled with a touch of nerves. “Pantherhaze.” 

“Right,” she grinned. The name was familiar now that she heard it again. She jerked her chin up in a nod and said, “Mystique.”

“Right,” he echoed back, trailing the words with a little laugh. She snorted softly. He would be pretty cute if she was into that sort of thing. 

She flicked her tail. “So, is there anything interesting to do around here?” 

“Oh, um,” he frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure… At least, I’m not sure what you could do.”

“Well, what do you do for fun?” asked Mystique. 

He shrugged. “Hunt, fish, maybe wrestle? I dunno.” 

“We could wrestle,” she tried. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he shifted again.

“Come on,” she pressed, “I’m dying of boredom over here! Indulge me a bit.” 

“I don’t think Russetfrond would like that very much,” said Pantherhaze, sounding more like someone who didn’t want to upset a friend than someone who was worried about getting in trouble. 

That intrigued her so she pulled at it like a shoelace poking out under the door. “You know him well?” 

“Yeah,” Pantherhaze smiled. “We grew up together. Kind of. I was always a few moons ahead of him.” 

Mystique rolled onto her side and looked up at him, head tilted upside down. “Was he always such a stiff?” 

Pantherhaze blushed. “He just has a lot on his shoulders is all. He’s actually really great when you get to know him.”

“Yeah?” she laughed. “How so?”

“Um,” her guard squirmed slightly under the scrutiny. “When we were apprentices, he challenged the whole group to climb a tree on a dare. He and Goldenstar nearly made it to the top but I got stuck on one of the branches. They came back down for me and he even jumped first to show me it was safe to go down.” 

“Aww,” Mystique said, mocking him in a way she considered good natured, “how long were you stuck?” 

Pantherhaze’s ears pressed back against his head. “I- That’s not important.” 

Mystique laughed, rolling onto her back and stretching her paws out as far as she could. “Aww! I bet it was a while, wasn’t it stumpy?” 

“Is the rogue giving you trouble?” Russetfrond’s joyless growl cut in on their pleasant moment. Mystique folded her front paws to her chest so she could get an unobstructed view of him, snorting a little at how silly he looked upside down. 

“No, we were just talking,” Pantherhaze said, sounding embarrassed. 

“Yeah, we were just talking about what a sweet boy you are,” she said. “Don’t be such a wet blanket.” 

Russetfrond curled his lip in disgust at the term. “You kittypets and your strange phrases.” 

“Look, you’re the one who’s weird for not knowing what blankets are,” she said, “not me.” 

“I’m glad to see you’re as vapid as ever, kittypet,” he droned back, scowling down at her. 

“Ooh, ouch,” she winced sarcastically. “You know, your silly little insult doesn’t get better just because you insist on saying it.” 

“Hey, guys, let’s not fight,” Pantherhaze meowed gently. 

“I’m just having a bit of fun,” Mystique said, rolling back over to sit up. 

“Tch,” Russetfrond shook his head. Looking at Pantherhaze, he said, “When Goldenstar gets back from patrol she’ll switch you out, alright?”

“Okay,” said the other warrior. Satisfied, Russetfrond turned and started off towards the prey pile. 

“Aw, come back!” Mystique called after him in a playful pout. “Don’t take the fun away! I’m dying in here!”

“Good,” he called back over his shoulder. Mystique snorted, a wide grin spread across her features, but it quickly faded. She sighed heavily and dropped her chin on her forelegs.

“This is worse than being in a cone,” she grumbled. 

Pantherhaze’s brows shot up curiously but all he said was, “I’m sure it will be over soon.” 

“Oh?” she twitched one ear and looked up at him. “You know something I don’t?”

He stiffened. “No, just trying to be friendly.” She believed him.

“I appreciate it,” she sighed again. “Better than ol’ Bee Face over there.” She watched Russetfrond picking out a meal and noticed him glancing back her way. 

“I dunno,” Pantherhaze shrugged. “You seem to like him a lot.” 

“I don’t know about a lot,” she rolled her eyes. 

“But you do like him?” Pantherhaze chirped. 

“I guess,” she conceded. “He reminds me of my brother a bit, but like… grumpier and better tempered at the same time.” She chuckled at the juxtaposition.

“Oh,” Pantherhaze paled, swallowing thickly. “I see.” 

“Look, he’s really not so bad,” she said again, a frown forming. “I know he makes himself out to be this big scary guy but he’s just kind of a dick, that’s all.” 

“I-if you say so,” Pantherhaze smiled but she could tell he wasn’t convinced. She glowered at her paws. Why was everyone so convinced Razor was some uniquely terrible monster?  Everyone she knew liked him fine enough. He was a smart leader, if a bit hot headed, a loyal friend, an attentive partner. She grimaced. Scorch had seemed pretty upset the other night… And there was that time when she cried while explaining how they met… 

STOP! STOP! The alarms caught up to her in a frantic, screaming hurry. YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR! THE SHADOW TRUTH IS ALMOST UPON YOU! She shook her head to distance herself from that train of thought immediately. That had been close. Something squirmed in her stomach though, like a shred of the shadow truth had escaped and refused to be ignored. She thought she might be sick. Her body ached to move, to drown the thinking out in adrenaline and physical satisfaction. She briefly considered running circles around the little burrow. 

“Hey, Pantherhaze!” Goldenstar’s voice sounded before she appeared from the hill beside the entrance. The lanky white and blue apprentice and the dark bengal she-cat continued past her with poorly disguised stares at Mystique. “I’m here to relieve you.” 

“Okay,” he smiled, “Thanks, Goldie.” He jumped up to leave and then, as an afterthought, looked back and said, “Uh, goodbye Mystique.” 

“See ya, Stumpy!” she purred, flicking one ear. Goldenstar raised a brow at that and settled down next to her to start grooming her own paws. Mystique watched her for a moment before she sat up and said, “Well, how was the patrol?” like a busybody fishing for gossip. 

“Same old, same old,” Goldenstar said. “I hope you’ve been doing alright.” 

“Honestly, Goldie- Can I call you Goldie?” 

“Sure,” shrugged Goldie. 

Mystique smiled. “Honestly, Goldie, I’m about to chew my own legs off. I am so tired of laying around! If you’re not gonna let me go home, can you at least let me go hunting or something?” 

“Hmm,” Goldenstar quirked her mouth to the side as she considered the idea. “I dunno…” 

“Oh, come on, please?” she said, “I promise I’ll be good!” She pressed her paws together and swiped them in front of her like she did when the Folk asked her to beg, to which Goldenstar’s brows shot up in amusement. 

“You sound like Floodpaw,” she laughed. 

“Is it working?” Mystique asked, giving her best totally-innocent-I-swear smile. 

Goldie groaned a little and said, “Yeah… Alright, I’ll think about the schedules and see if we can make it work.” 

“Yes!” Mystique gave a mrrp of triumph. “Thanks, Goldie, you’re the best.”

“I try very hard,” laughed Goldenstar.

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Pan Says... (11/13)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: As promised, another update! Now, if you'll excuse. I'm just gonna leave this here and, um... hide.

Much love to my @kmomof4 and @ultraluckycatnd for being amazing cheerleaders and betas! Love you, ladies!

Rated E / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six  / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten

Part Eleven

Killian inhaled deeply, reveling in the early morning air as the dawn crested the horizon. Not for the first time since he and Emma had moved into their new accommodations, Killian was overwhelmed by the beauty and splendor of the sunrise. Gods, how he had missed this. Waking with the sun, feeling those first rays on his skin.

A disgruntled moan from the bedroom pulled a chuckle from deep within his chest, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Emma grumpily roll over and bury herself further into the blankets of their bed. Among the many things they had come to learn about one another whilst cohabiting in a more traditional sense, it hadn’t really come as a surprise to Killian that his Swan was absolutely not a morning person.

Turning back to the horizon, Killian shifted his stance and grimaced slightly at the discomfort he was experiencing this morning. A soreness he knew he’d have to contend with after their performance the previous evening and the role Pan had cast him to play. Not that he wished to dwell on it. They had persevered as they had the first time. However, unlike the first time, it was he who had taken the brunt of the mob’s demands, their desire to see him - well, not him, but the lowly deckhand he’d been cast to portray - broken and submissive to the will of his Pirate Queen.

Emma had been concerned for him when Pan had laid out the vision. Knowing his past and the trauma he associated with certain acts, she’d nearly refused to go through with it. Killian would have been lying if he’d said he’d been completely okay with the idea. They ought to have known that the things they’d marked a firm no to the month before would come back to bite them in the ass.

Or in Killian’s case - peg him in the ass.

He’d done all he could to convince Emma (and himself) that it was all right. That he would be able to endure whatever she had to do to him. To remind her that not only had they given one another their consent long ago, but had already decided upon total forgiveness as well. In the end, she had relented and gave one hell of a performance.

His Pirate Queen had been magnificent and he would gladly serve her (and under her) any day.

Arms snaked around his waist, warm hands brushing against the muscles of his torso and causing them to jump as her fingers toyed with the wisps of hair littering his navel.

“Good morning, love,” he murmured quietly over his shoulder, smiling at the way she buried her face in his back. “Sleep well?”

A noncommittal grunt vibrated against his spine. Slowly, he turned and wrapped her in his arms, caressing her bed-messed locks and placing a kiss at her hairline.

“That well, hmm?” he chuckled.

“Offey,” she mumbled against his chest.

“Come again?”

Tilting her head back, eyes still stubbornly closed, she exaggeratingly enunciated, “Coff-ee.”

“Already brewed and in the kitchen,” he told her. “Would you like to crawl back in bed whilst I get you a cup?”

He was pretty sure there was a ‘yes, please’ mumbled before she turned back to the bedroom. Taking in one final breath and glimpse of the sunrise, Killian made his way to the kitchen to fetch himself and his grumpy Swan their morning brew.

Entering their bedroom, he found Emma a bit more awake, sitting up in bed with her knees pulled to her chest and worrying her bottom lip.

“Here you are, love. Just the way you like it,” he said, handing over one of the mugs before slipping back beneath the covers next to her.

She cradled the mug in her hands while furtively casting glances his way. Knowing what was likely plaguing her now that she was more awake, Killian took a fortifying sip of his coffee before assuring her, “I’m fine, love. Truly.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that,” she said, a quiver running through her words that forced his gaze to hers.

His heart ached at the sight of tears welling in those gorgeous green depths.

Setting his cup aside, he took hers from her hands and set it next to his on the nightstand before taking both of her hands in his. “I swear to you, Swan,” he vowed, his gaze never wavering from hers. “Other than a bit of soreness, which is to be expected, I am perfectly well.”

“It’s not your physical well-being that concerns me,” she countered. “I mean, yeah. I’m concerned about you physically, but I’m more concerned with--”

He halted her words with the press of his lips, then murmured, “Emma, love. I am more than okay in every aspect. Last night was… better than it had any right to be.”

“Really?”

“Aye,” he said, brushing his nose playfully against hers before pulling back and donning a more serious expression. “If I had any ill feelings at all, they would be over the fact I’m not more… affected by the circumstances of last night.” Releasing one of her hands, he scratched at a patch of skin behind his ear, which he could feel turning red from the heat of his blush. “I know we ought to both be indignant and disgusted by what we… and I am, to an extent, but,” he blew out a breath as he ran his hand through his hair, then gestured vaguely, “I fear I’m not making much sense.”

“No, you are,” she said in a commiserating tone. “I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” she confessed sheepishly. “In spite of how terrible and gross and demeaning this whole thing is, I… I kind of enjoyed myself?”

“Is that a question?” he asked on an amused breath.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I hate being here. I would give anything to get out of here and go home and never hear Pan’s voice again. I just…”

“I know,” he assured her. “It’s not easy to admit that it isn’t completely terrible here all the time. That we might actually have moments of genuine happiness and contentment, or that we might even revel a bit in the depravity.”

“You don’t think that makes us terrible people?”

“No, love,” he said, stroking his hand up and down her arm in a soothing fashion. “It makes us human. It makes us survivors.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay with everything I did to you last night? Not just physically, I mean.”

Killian took a moment to truly take stock before answering, “Aye. I wouldn’t have trusted anyone other than you to… You made me feel safe. You made me… want it. More than that, you made it pleasurable for me.” Cupping her face in his hands, he stared down at her with an awe he could not keep from seeping into his words. “You were bloody brilliant, love. Amazing.”

A preening, self-satisfied smirk worked its way to her lips, her eyes sparkling from the compliment as she quipped, “Don’t you mean, you were bloody brilliant, My Queen?”

“Forgive me, My Queen,” he responded in a low, husky gruff. “What must I do to rectify such an offense?”

Emma flicked her gaze upward, as though she were considering options for his punishment, then focused her attention on the nightstand. “Giving me back my coffee would make a nice start.”

Killian chuckled as he retrieved her mug. “As you wish, My Queen.”

Humming, Emma mused, “I could get used to this.” She took a sip of her coffee and snuggled back against the headboard.

Killian followed suit, settling back in bed and enjoying his cup as they sat in contended silence. That was until a few moments later when Emma shot out of bed and hurriedly declared, “Bathroom!” over her shoulder.

Killian practically held his breath as he strained to listen. Had her bladder merely threatened mutiny, or was her rush to the commode for a different reason?

When she emerged moments later, he scoured every inch of her complexion, attempting to ascertain whether she’d been ill again.

“Everything alright, love?”

“Yeah,” she said a bit breathlessly. “Just really had to go all of a sudden.”

“You don’t think it has anything to do with our recent activities, do you?”

Something in Emma’s eyes gave him the impression that she found his question startling.

“W-What do you mean?”

Killian clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. He was teetering on dangerous territory. “I remember that Milah used to get UTIs rather frequently from… you know. I believe a sense of urgency is one of the symptoms, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, combing her fingers through the tangles in her hair as she pondered that bit of information. “I suppose that’s something to consider, even though I’ve never really been prone to them. I’ll, um… keep that in mind and see if I notice any other symptoms.”

Killian nodded, his heart frantic from his near folly. Although, if he could convince her she had an altogether different medical issue, one they could petition Pan for her to be tested for, might he finally give up the game regarding her lack of birth control? Or… would he see this as an infraction to the decree he’d given Killian? Could he risk leading Emma down this path of discovery knowing the penalty Pan had issued?

“Killian?” Emma said, pulling him from his thoughts. “You okay?”

“Uh, aye,” he replied, shaking himself. “I think I just need breakfast. Hungry?”

“Um, sure,” she said, giving him a look of meaning he couldn’t quite discern. “Maybe something light, though?”

“Scrambled eggs and toast?”

“Sounds great.”

~/~

As much as she wished she wouldn’t, Emma could get quite used to this.

“Not being too rough, am I?” Killian inquired as he worked his fingers through her wet strands.

“Nuh uh,” Emma hummed, basking in the relaxing heat of the bath water and the feel of Killian’s firm body she was reclined against. “It’s perfect.”

“As are you,” he whispered against her skin before trailing his lips and tongue along the slope of her neck and across her shoulder.

“Flattery will get you,” she said with a heavy tongue, almost too relaxed to even formulate a response.

“Get me what?” Killian asked in a teasingly sultry tone.

“Hmm,” Emma hummed again. “What do you want?”

Killian’s hands abandoned her tresses. One cupped her breast beneath the water as the other skimmed across her belly on a path towards her sex.

“You,” he growled, his cock hardening against the cleft of her ass. “Always you.”

Emma’s back arched away from him when his fingers slipped through her folds. The heat of the water was nothing in comparison to the scorch of his touch.

“You like that?” he whispered filthily in her ear. “You like it when I touch you like this? When I finger this greedy cunt and rub your clit ‘til you beg?”

“Y-Yes,” she panted, rolling her free nipple between her fingers, mirroring the actions of his other hand on her opposite breast.

Killian groaned against her jaw, his chin resting atop her shoulder so he could watch as they jointly pleasured her. “I love watching you touch yourself.”

Emma whimpered when he pulled his hand from between her legs, then bit down on her lip when he grabbed her wrist and guided her hand down her body to replace his.

“Show me,” he commanded, his timbre deep and rough. “Show me how you make yourself come.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” she cheeked, using the moniker she now associated with this side of him and earning her another reverberating growl from his chest.

Running her fingers through her folds, she collected moisture from her center - the water not quite as efficient a lubricant as her own arousal - then began teasing her clit. Her other hand moved from her breast and wrapped around the back of Killian’s neck, anchoring her to him as he wrapped a hand around one of her legs and draped it over the side of the tub, giving her room to open herself up more.

“That’s it, love,” he praised, his hot breath mixing with the steam clouding her face, making her feel light-headed. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this.”

Emma’s fingers continued to dance over her clit. Every so often she’d administer a hard slap to her center, but the resistance of the water lessened the effect she was going for.

“Here,” Killian said, adjusting the position of his legs to help lift her bottom half out of the water. “Do that again, Swan.”

Emma complied, slapping her clit hard and crying out from the mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Again,” he gruffed, and she gladly surrendered to the command.

His hands grabbed onto her thighs, spreading her even wider as she went back to rubbing herself. His cock slipped between her legs from behind, stimulating other areas from the way he rocked his hips beneath her.

“Fuck!” she cried out from the way his cock teased her ass and how it made her own ministrations that much more pleasurable.

“Are you close?” Killian asked in an almost pleading tone. “Say you're close. I want to be inside you, love. Can’t wait to be inside you, but I want you to come for me first. Come for me.”

Emma couldn’t answer him with words, her body was too close to answering him in other ways. Too close. So close. Very, VERY close.

“I…I…I…” she panted, her movements becoming sporadic as her orgasm began to crest.

“That’s it,” he coaxed as he took over and finished her off, his fingers giving her no quarter as she shuddered and convulsed against his body, splashing water over the edge of the tub and onto the tile floor of their bathroom. “Fuck, Emma. Yes. Yes, love. That’s it.”

Although her release should have left her feeling boneless and sated, it somehow managed to only heighten her need for him. The last vestiges of pleasure hadn’t even worked their way through her before she abruptly shifted her body and repositioned herself atop Killian, straddling his hips.

“Swan, what are you-- Ahhh…” he moaned as she sank down on his length, allowing herself the briefest of moments to acclimate before her pelvis began to grind against his.

Killian’s head fell back against the edge of the tub, the cords of his neck drawn taut and his skin flushed red from the heat of the bath and the desire coursing through his bloodstream. The coarse hair of his chest had softened from the steam, and Emma’s palms fought to anchor themselves against the slickness of his skin.

Fucking Killian in the tub might have been murder on her knees, but the erotic feel of the water ebbing and flowing against their bodies from the way they moved together, mixed with the heady scents of the bath oils they’d added earlier, and the way Killian looked, all hot and flushed and wet and… God damn! was totally making it worth it.

Grabbing onto the sides of the tub for extra stability and traction, Emma shifted her hips and gasped at the jolt of pleasure running up her spine. Killian sat up and wrapped his arms around her. Their bodies rolled in tandem, moving as one with undulations that made a mini wave pool out of their tub.

Forehead pressed to hers, Killian’s brow was slick from sweat caused by the steam and his exertions. Exertions that had also made his cheeks rosy and his lips dry, though Emma was happy to assist him with the latter.

They devoured one another. Lost themselves in the heat of each other’s body and the breath of the other’s mouth. When they came up for air that breath turned into decadent utterances. Moans and prayers and curses and groanings deeper than words murmured against flesh and whispered across skin as their bodies continued to writhe and race towards a common goal.

“Emma,” Killian moaned, his hold on her tightening as he bucked his hips a bit harder beneath her. “Emma, my love. Emma, my darling. Emma, my…”

Words turned to staccatoed grunts of ecstasy, his release triggering her own, causing her to fall to pieces in his arms with his name reverberating off the tiled walls.

They both collapsed back against the end of the tub, chests heaving in equal rhythm and their hearts thundering against the other’s rib cage.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

It took a few minutes before Emma felt as though she could move. When she did, she didn’t get any further than simply extricating herself from Killian’s chest and sitting back onto his lap.

“Not yet,” Killian pleaded, willing her to stay put with his hands anchored at her waist. “Let’s just stay like this for a bit longer. Please?”

“Sure,” Emma relented, not that having Killian inside her was in any way a burden.

Even if…

Her gaze slipped down to her abdomen and to the plaguing question that may or may not reside there. Killian’s thumbs were softly skimming her lower belly and she flicked her eyes to his, startled by the expression held in his tender forget-me-not gaze which was lovingly focused on the space beneath her belly button. A small gasp fell from her lips as a realization suddenly came to her. His eyes shot up to hers, confusion over her utterance pulling at his brows until something akin to alarm flashed in those blue depths.

His eyes bounced between hers as he tried to school his features. School them as he had done numerous times these past few weeks. Times when she caught him staring at her belly or seemingly lost in thoughts that seemed to both trouble and please him. Times when she tried to hide or downplay things that required her to put on a false facade of her own.

Swallowing tightly, she rested a hand against her belly and continued to stare down at him. Was it possible? Did he know the truth? Had Pan been playing them both against each other this whole time, forcing them to keep the same secret from one another?

Lowering herself against his chest, she nuzzled her face against the side of his neck then turned her lips towards his ear, her voice no more than a scant breath as she whispered, “You know, don’t you?” His body stiffened and she could feel the microscopic shake of his head. “You’ve known all this time that he had it removed, haven’t you?”

“We should get out,” Killian said, clearing his throat uncomfortably and encouraging her to sit back up while trying to keep his tone light and teasing. “I’m well past pruney at this point.”

“You’re right,” she said, allowing him to assist her off his lap and out of the tub. “Sorry I… I shouldn’t have… kept us in there so long.”

“No worries, love,” he said, accepting the towel she’d held out for him after wrapping one around herself. “No need to make mention of it again.”

His eyes, locked with hers as he dried himself off, told her everything she needed to know. Everything he dared not say for fear that Pan might be watching. Might be listening. Might be deducing that which they’d already figured out. They both knew about the removal of her IUD. They both knew and had been threatened with keeping it a secret from the other. They both knew and now they both knew that the other knew.

Killian wrapped his towel around his waist then gathered her in his arms, placing a kiss upon her forehead before crushing her to his chest. “Emma, I…” Words seemed to stick in the back of his throat, but she didn’t need him to say anything.

Reciprocating the embrace, she rested her head against his chest and softly murmured, “I know. Me, too.”

~/~

“Here,” Emma said, offering Killian a tumblr of dark liquid. “I brought you a rum and coke.”

“Thank you, love,” Killian replied, taking the proffered glass and swirling the liquid as he continued to stare out at the sunset.

“So,” Emma sank down onto his lap, sipping from her own glass, prudently filled with a non-alcoholic option. “What are you brooding about this evening?”

Killian scoffed and gulped down a large swallow, sucking against his teeth in response to the burn the rum left behind. “I don’t brood.”

Emma hummed a dubious sound. “Oh, you brood.”

A half smile twitched at his lip. “I don’t brood… much.”

His Swan smiled over the rim of her glass and turned her attention towards the horizon, giving him a few moments to decide whether or not to share his current broodings with her… or more to point, crafting a way to share them in case they had to do with a certain topic they could not discuss openly.

A taboo topic regarding a secret they seemed to have gotten away with exposing to one another. Their host had made no mention of it. In fact, they had not heard from Pan since the night they’d entertained his guests four days prior. Killian knew they’d both been on tenterhooks following the revelation that had occurred after their bath, fearing retribution for breaking Pan’s rules. A fear that had led to Killian’s aforementioned brooding by the gorgeous woman currently competing with the vision of the setting sun and putting Mother Nature to shame.

“You’re so beautiful,” Killian murmured, running his fingers through her hair and brushing a section of it over her shoulder.

“And you,” she replied with an amused expression and knowing look in her eye, “are avoiding my question.”

Killian sighed and swirled his glass once more. Damn her for being able to read him as well as he could her. Open books, the pair of them.

“If you must know,” he said, taking another large gulp of his drink to fortify himself, then having to finish his response on a bit of a choked cough, “I was brooding about… my father.”

Emma balked and her brows shot up her forehead. “Your father? Why? What’s brought him to mind all of sudden?”

“I was trying to work out today’s date,” he told her. “I believe there were 43 hashmarks on the wall before we left our old room.”

Emma nodded her agreement on the number. They’d taken to marking off the days early on in an attempt to keep track.

“And we’ve been in our new lodgings for eleven days now.”

“Right,” Emma said, her face still expressing her lack of understanding of how any of this related to his father. “So, a little over seven weeks since he took us.”

“And we know the exact date of our kidnapping, so I calculated what today’s date ought to be and, turns out… it’s my father’s birthday.”

“You’re kidding!” Emma exclaimed, clearly taken aback. “Seriously?”

“If my math is right, then… yeah. Today is my father’s birthday. Hence,” he said, lifting his glass in a mock salute, “the brooding.” Throwing back the remainder of the glass, he welcomed the burn settling in the pit of his stomach, preferring it to the emotions currently swirling there.

“Wow,” Emma exhaled, mulling over what he’d just told her and worrying her lip in response.

“What?” Killian inquired, curious as to her reaction and sensing as though there was something she wished to say, but was hesitating to do so.

“Nothing, it's just…”

“Just what, love?”

She set down her glass and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, toying with the overly long growth at the base of his skull. “I know this may not be what you want to hear, but… I can’t help but think that knowing your dad’s birthday is kind of a blessing.”

“A blessing?” he said, a bit more scathingly than he intended. “How is it a blessing to be reminded of that bastard’s birthday? The man who ran out on my brother and I during the time we needed him the most.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Emma whispered woundedly, preparing to extricate herself from his lap.

Chastising himself, he wrapped an arm around her waist, imploring her to stay. “No, love. I’m sorry. You’re just trying to help and I… I’m being a right arse.” Tipping his head to the side, he rested it against her bosom and cast puppy dog eyes up at her. “Please. Tell me what you meant by it being a blessing?”

“You’re not an ass,” she assured him, fighting back the smile his current, ridiculous expression was provoking. “I get that it’s a sensitive topic for you, and maybe I’m out of line, but…” she struggled with some internal turmoil for a moment before confessing, “I don’t know if my birthday is really my birthday.”

Killian’s eyes slipped shut in shame and his grip on her waist tightened. “I’m so sorry, love. I… I had no idea.”

“How could you?” she said, her tone sad yet forgiving. “My birth records reflect the day I was found, but who’s to say whether that was the day my mother gave birth to me. Did they simply assume some woman gave birth by the side of the road and dumped her newborn to be found only a few hours later? Maybe she had me the night before, or the day before that.”

She shrugged despondently and folded her arms over her chest. “I’ll never really know what my real birthday is, or the birthday of the woman who gave birth to me, or the birthday of the man who fathered me. I’ll never know which parts of myself I got from them. Whose nose. Whose eyes. Whose chin. Just as I…”

She swallowed thickly, her eyes misting over, and Killian’s heart ached for her. As much as he wished to put a stop to her pain, he also sensed this was something she needed to say. Something she’d needed to say for quite some time.

“Just as you what, Swan?” Killian prompted. “Go on.”

Casting her eyes down to his, she took in a breath of resolve and continued on. “Just as I’ll never know those things about my son. Whether his eyes are green like mine, or brown like his father’s. If his hair is brown or blonde, whether he inherited the dimple in my chin or his father’s laugh, but,” she sniffled and wiped the tears that had begun to fall from her face. “I do know his birthday. And every year, I get to save all the pain, and sadness, and hope, and happy memories I did get to make with him in those few short minutes for that one day.” Reaching up, she brushed his hair from his forehead then bent over to press hers against it. “So, what I meant was… it’s a blessing to know his birthday, because you can save all your pain and anger and maybe even some of the love and fondness you can’t help but feel, for just this one day. Then, the rest of the year, for the other 364 days, you can be free of him, because you only give him this one day.”

Threading his fingers through her hair, Killian closed his eyes and breathed out, “You’re a marvel, Swan. You know that?”

“Aye,” she said, taunting him with his accent. “I know.”

~/~

Killian stretched and groaned, his eyes rebelling against the light flooding in through the windows, the sun having risen several hours ago without him there to witness it.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Emma cooed in his ear, sounding far too chirper.

Must be later than he thought.

“Rise and shine. You’ve nearly slept the day away.”

“What time’s it?” he asked groggily.

“Almost ten,” she told him, poking him playfully in the side as punctuation to her next words. “Some. One. Over. Slept.”

Killian growled and pounced on her, rolling them until she was on her back beneath him with her arms pinned above her head. “Well, someone,” he shot back in a gruff yet teasing tone, “kept me up late.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Absolutely not.”

Her giggle was short lived, cut off by the fierceness of his kiss and seductive roll of his hips.

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed after a few minutes’ make-out session. “As much as I’d love to continue this, I did actually wake you for a purpose.”

“Oh?” Killian replied, still applying kisses to the length of her neck. “What purpose would that be?”

Her stomach supplied the answer before she could, grumbling loud enough for both of them to hear and forcing a chuckle from Killian’s chest.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he teased. “You only want me for my skills in the kitchen.”

“Right now. In this moment. Yes.”

He shot her a disgruntled look, the effect of which was probably ruined by the light-hearted eye roll and exasperated sigh that followed.

“Very well then, My Queen. If it is breakfast you desire, then breakfast you shall have.”

“More like brunch, at this point,” she sassed back as he rolled off of her and got up from the bed.

“Just for that,” he said, pulling on some pants, “you can forget breakfast in bed.”

She gave him a pouty lip and despondent sag of her shoulders, but he would not be deterred. Holding out his hand he waited until she begrudgingly accepted it, then assisted her off the bed and led them out to the living room.

A living room unexpectedly occupied by two Lost Ones, flanking the tv which displayed Pan’s silhouette.

“What the hell?” Emma exclaimed, stopping short behind Killian. “What are you two do--”

“It took me some time to confirm it, but now… I have,” Pan’s voice echoed through the apartment in a tone neither of them had ever heard him use before. A tone that sent a shiver of dread straight down Killian’s spine.

“Confirmed what?” Emma asked. Although Killian could tell from the quiver in her voice that she was concerned he might be referring to the very thing they’d feared he’d discover.

“Oh, I think you know, Emma,” Pan replied in a hush of menace. “You broke the rules, and now it’s time to pay the Piper.”

“What? No! I… I--”

“No! She… We didn’t--”

“Don’t try and deny it,” Pan spat. “I had to bring in the best audio engineer in the world to enhance the recording, but it’s there, clear as day. You told him, Emma. You knew you weren’t supposed to, and what would happen if you did.”

“But… but he already knew!” Emma shouted. “I didn’t tell him something he didn’t already know. He--”

“That was the point!” Pan admonished. “The secret was that you both knew. It was a game of chicken, and you, my dear, blinked first, so…” The Lost Ones advanced towards them as Pan declared, “It’s time for me to collect that pound of flesh.”

“No!” Emma screamed, attempting to throw herself in front of Killian as he was trying to keep her behind him.

“Let go of me!” he shouted when one of the Lost Ones grabbed him by the arm. The cattle prod in his hand jumped to life, electricity sparking from the end of it as he brandished it towards Killian who continued to struggle in his grasp, despite the unspoken warning.

Behind him, Killian heard the other Lost One say something to Emma before he grasped Killian’s other arm and assisted the first in dragging him towards the middle of the room.

“Please!” Emma sobbed behind him. “Please, don’t do this.”

Sitting on the coffee table was a heavy, wooden block with metal straps bolted to the top of it. The Lost Ones forced him to his knees and stretched his arm out, securing it to the block by his wrist.

“What are you doing?” Killian screamed in a panic. Pan’s words were finally beginning to hit him. A pound of flesh. His flesh? Did he mean to…? Snapping his head towards Emma, he felt the color drain from his face at the sight of a hatchet in her trembling hands. “Swan? What?”

“Don’t worry, Killian. I won’t take much,” Pan said in a feigned soothing tone. “Or rather, she won’t. Think how fitting it’ll be for you to have a hook rather than a hand once you’ve healed and are ready to entertain my guests once more as the Captain!”

“You’re insane!” Killian spat at the camera. “Bloody fucking insane, do you know that? You fucking demon!”

“I’m so sorry, K-Killian,” Emma sobbed, collapsing to her knees beside the couch. “This is all my fault. It should…” She sniffled hard and wiped her face, turning to look into the camera as she pleaded, “It should be me! I should bear the punishment! Punish me! Please! Don’t make me do this!”

“No, Swan!” Killian argued. Terror flooded him. She didn’t know what she was saying. Didn’t know what she was asking for. “No, love. You don’t understand. It’s better this way. Truly.”

As much as he didn’t want to lose his hand, he couldn’t bear the thought of Emma having to endure such torture. Not to mention the fact that if Pan wished to trade their places, the punishment for her would be far worse. What was a hand compared to her life. He’d already lost one love, he’d never survive losing Emma.

“It’s okay, Swan,” he told her, trying to keep the fear and panic out of his voice and expression. “It’s okay, love. I can take it. Remember? I’m a survivor. I can survive this.”

Emma grabbed on to the couch, the hatchet still firmly held in her other hand, and shakily got to her feet. Tears streaming down her face, she vehemently shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t do it.” Tossing the hatchet onto the couch, she firmly declared, “I won’t! I won’t do it!”

“Then I will,” one of the Lost Ones said, startling them both as he made his way towards the couch.

“No.” Pan’s voice halted his steps, and Emma’s rush to stop him from grabbing the hatchet. “Lost One B will do it.”

“What?” the other Lost One exclaimed, and Killian only now realized how the man had been keeping his distance with his back turned to him this whole time.

“Go on,” Pan said. “Take the hatchet and collect my pound of flesh.”

“No,” the Lost One stated, malice coating his words. Killian’s brows shot up his forehead and his eyes snapped to Emma who was also clearly shocked.

“No?” Pan oiled menacingly. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean,” the Lost One paused, his gaze turning towards Killian, though his eyes were still obscured by the mask he wore. “I won’t do it. I won’t hurt my son that way. Not when my actions have caused him enough pain for a lifetime.”

“Son?” Emma gasped.

Blood thundered in Killian’s ears from the frantic pace of his pulse. That voice. He knew that voice. “F-Father?” he choked out, even as he refused to believe his own ears.

The Lost One peeled off his mask, revealing a face Killian had not seen since he was nine years old.

“Aye, Killian,” Brennan Jones replied. “It’s me, son.”

Part Twelve

[angelkissiies]

we fell in love in october

abby anderson x reader x ellie williams

cw : fluff, tears, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of birth, grandpa joel and grandpa jerry.

a/n : literally so short but i needed to get this out of my brain before i died (of baby fever)

Abby held the tiny bundle in her arms as Ellie and Joel crowded around her to catch a glimpse. She’d only been in the world for twenty minutes before the village of a family poured in itching to see their newest addition, gasping in awe as they took in her tiny blushed figure swaddled in a thick layer of blanket to counteract the cool fall air that drifted in from the open window. 

You smiled at the sight, looking over to Jerry as you nodded towards the group. “Go see your granddaughter, worry about me later.” He had been hovering by your side the entire time, watching you carefully just in case anything went wrong at the last minute but you couldn’t bear seeing Abby experience this moment without him. “I’m fine, trust me.” 

For a moment you thought you heard Dina and Jesse outside, awaiting their turn to see the baby- but Ellie’s soft voice caught your attention, drawing you back to the moment at hand. 

She was all tears, kneeling by your bedside now as she broke away from the group. “Oh, baby. You did so well.” She hiccuped, brushing the hair from your face. She had slight dark circles around her eyes, showing just how long she had spent pacing around your room, the hallway, the bathroom, and even the courtyard as she waited patiently. “She looks just like you.” 

Abby handed the baby off to Joel, letting him and her dad coo over the angel as she came to rest beside Ellie, intertwining her fingers with the brunette before ghosting her free hand over yours- nervous to be too rough after the day you’d been through. “God, she is so beautiful.” She stated, a small sigh leaving her lips as she peered up at you through her thick lashes. She never thought she’d see the day she’d make her dad and grandpa, yet here it was, and something inside of her knew she’d never be able to live without this. Without the family the three of you had created. 

You nodded, moving a weak hand to grip onto hers. “She’s ours. Our baby girl.” You reminded them, through the entire pregnancy- your biggest fear had been either of your girls feeling less than the other when it came to being your daughters mom. Yet as you saw the tear streaks that adorned both of their faces, you couldn’t deny their claim to her parentage. Maybe biologically, you were her only connection, but emotionally the women before you had taken on the role of mother long before she’d ever even seen the sun. 

“Thank you.” Ellie breathed, resting her head on Abby’s shoulder. 

The two held each other close, Abby being as gentle as she could as she peppered soft kisses on your knuckles. The sound of soft laughter and sniffles filled your ears as you let yourself finally begin to relax for the first time since you went into labor. There was nothing as sweet as the love that pulsed through the room, spilling out the windows and into the depths of Jackson, swallowing up the dangers that waited outside the walls and allowing the world to feel a lot softer than it had in a very long time. 

All it took was a little girl born on the first of October.

[honey-deku]

Late at Night

Robin x gn reader

CW: sfw, pre time skip, pre Enies Lobby, mutual pinning, double sided angst, tears, heart ache

Robin doesn’t make a move due to her believing she’ll have to leave the crew eventually; she doesn't let herself get too close to you and it tears both of you up on the inside

Word count: 1181

Image Source: One Piece chapter 320 ____________________________________________________

“Do you ever feel alone Robin?”

The hairs on the back of Robin’s neck stood sharply when you asked her. How was she supposed to respond to that, a question that came out of left field and from all the people, it came from you.

She took a deep breath before answering your question truthfully.

“Of course.” She paused for another gasp of the cold air. “Do you feel that way right now?”

She only came outside for a breath of the night air to fill her lungs and calm her nerves, hoping to soothe her concerns about the world government that would eventually come for her.

Instead Robin found you outside, leaning on the guardrail of the Going Merry, staring longingly at the black sea, the black void ahead of you.

Robin walked to your side to accompany you on this night. She looked up to the sky to catch a glimpse of the stars scattered erratically, placed so haphazardly above the two of you.

You turned your head away from her as you responded, not wanting Robin to see you be so vulnerable.

“Maybe. Is it bad that I do?”

“No. Not at all.”

“It’s weird.” you started. “I feel so alone. I could be surrounded by so many people and yet I feel nothing.” 

“I think it’s normal to feel that way sometimes.”

Robin wanted to so badly hug you, so badly comfort you. She always had a soft spot for you that was different from the one she had about Chopper; he was a cute, intelligent, and empathetic doctor and she loved spoiling him.

With you, she wanted to give you a kiss. She wanted to hold your hand. She wanted to try so many things with you first. She so badly wanted to stay by your side and show how deep that love ran for you. You were that irreplaceable crew member who, like her, was tight lipped about your past and cared for the well being of the crew, putting yourself after the others, a trait she found very comforting and admirable.

As for you, you always felt like Robin treated you with more affection through her actions than the other members, not exactly playing favorites but definitely… different. Another part of you kept thinking otherwise, thinking it was all in your head, that she didn’t return the feelings, carrying doubt on your shoulders.

You dropped plenty of hints in the past but Robin never seemed to notice; other times it looked like she would ignore them. You weren’t sure what to make of it but you just assumed it was your wishful thinking that she would like you back or confess first despite the lack of response you’d receive from her.

Recently, you backed off on the hints, taking one yourself and leaving Robin alone, not knowing how much it hurt her deep down.

You let out a deep breath, watching the warmth disappear into the cold.

“It’s funny” You spoke up. “Late at night, a restless feeling takes control of me and I can’t fight it.” You smiled, looking up at the night sky, hoping to look cool in front of Robin as you said that.

“You too huh?” Robin smiled. “I couldn’t sleep either right now.” she said, following suit and looked up, trying to find any constellations she recognized.

Robin had a wretched feeling in her gut, something telling her that this would be one of the last nights she’d be spending with the straw hats before her eventual departure. Something about the town of Water 7 sent chills down her spine, like she shouldn’t be there. 

But yet, standing next to you, Robin’s rapid heart beat slowed to a calmer rhythm, calm enough to quell her vicious worries for the moment at least.

The silence that surrounded you two was more peaceful than tense, you two just got each other, you two clicked and understood each other without even exchanging words. 

Your gaze returned to the dark horizon ahead of you, stretching your arms above your head to get the blood pumping once more. Completely unintentional on your part, as you lowered your arms and hands back to the guard rail, your hand fell on top of Robin’s, making you both flinch a bit from the contact.

“Ah… Sorry Robin, I wasn’t trying anything funny.”

She chuckled at your modesty, finding it adorable. “It’s alright, you can hold my hand. I don’t mind.”

You stared at her in awe, was this a sign? You were perplexed to say the least but hey, you didn’t want to make her feel awkward or uncomfortable. You’d rather enjoy the moment. 

“Well alright then.” You smiled as you placed your hand on-top of hers again. “Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?”

“For being here, for being a good nakama.” Your thumb rubbed her chilled knuckles. 

Oh how she wished you hadn’t said that, how she wished she didn’t have to leave sooner or later and desert this crew like all the others. Robin almost wanted to cry as her guilt and anxiety ravaged her conscious.

She took another deep breath as she removed herself from the situation, bringing her hand that you held back to her sides. Your darkened expression didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“I’m going to go back to bed. Don’t stay out too late ok Y/N?”

You tried hard to make your voice sound unfazed by her guarded demeanor, “I won’t. Good night Robin.”

“Good night Y/N”. The archeologist turned around and retreated back to the women’s quarters.

As you heard the door shut softly, your lips pouted, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill out and run down your face as your throat burned. All self control broke loose. 

Did you do something wrong? Was it something you said to her? You couldn’t wrap your head around what had just happened; the faint warmth of her lovely affection suddenly being replaced by that cold, professional attitude she always bore, within a matter of seconds.

You knew it was probably a one sided affection but it still didn’t lessen the heartache you felt. You knew well that matters of the heart were finicky and risky and in your experience, often leads to complications and tragedy.

As the tears rolled down, swallowing your dejected feelings, you tried your best not to sob too loudly lest you wanted to draw the attention of the crew.

Near you was a disembodied eye on a wall, also shedding a tear at your plight. Robin herself leaned against the wooden door she had stepped through moments ago. With all those years of being an assassin and hiding from authorities, she had much better control of her breathing and emotions but it all hurt the same, if not, maybe more so since she knew, and could only imagine, how shaken you’ll be when she one day has to leave. 

All those unanswered questions and unresolved feelings will haunt you so long as you live and there was nothing Robin could do to change fate.

______________________________________________________________

this short fic was inspired by this one song

not to be a music theory nerd but i tried to emulate the same cadences of the song into the fic: starting out melancholy, slowly building up to a more cheery tone just to go back to gloom again

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Freak and The Princess (IV)

Summary: Eddie lets you walk by during his rant in the cafeteria, stumped by your quietness and manners toward the town freak. He then decides to be the perfect gentleman. [Part 4/5] 1.2k+ Words

Warnings: nightmare (about death), stress about the future (angst?), meddling best friends Steve and Robin, Jason Carver returns. I think that's all!

A/N: This part is written from a different perspective to give a glimpse into Eddie's life and thoughts! I edited this and proofread it, but please point out any errors or things you like! My requests are open! Hope you enjoy! :)

Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Part V.

The Freak and the Princess

Part Four: The Freak

“No, no! You cannot die on me!” Eddie pleaded with tears streaming down his cheeks. “I just got you; I can’t lose you!” He watched as her eyes closed and her hand lost its grip on his. “No. I love you, princess.”

Eddie woke with a jolt, sheets all over the place, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, and tears rolling down his face. It felt so real; he thought she was gone. Eddie kicked the sheets off the bed, stepped over the pile, and walked around the trailer, trying to find anything to get his mind off the image of his princess dead in his arms. He struggled to go back to sleep, fighting the temptation to call her and ensure she was alright. When he finally fell asleep again, his mind drifted to his princess and the life they could have.

“Princess? You ready?” Eddie asked as he knocked on her door.

The door was pulled open a second later, revealing his princess holding her bag and extending a muffin to him.

“Yes, sorry I’m late. Here, I made blueberry muffins.”

Eddie happily bit into the treat, groaning in delight as he tasted it. “Of course, you can bake. What can’t you do?”

“Legally drive.” She smiled as she accepted his hand to climb into the passenger seat of his van.

“True, but that works out for my benefit too, so win-win?” he asked, popping the last bite of the muffin into his mouth and shifting his van into reverse. He looked over to see her nodding and smiling.

"How ya doin', princess?"

“I’m fine. Tired.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I just stayed up a little too late stress baking.”

“What are you stressed about?” Eddie was concerned, his thoughts drifting to his dream before he had a chance to stop them.

“Nothing specific, I guess. Finals, graduation, college, all that stuff." Her eyes were on her lap as she answered.

“You’ll ace your exams, princess.” He truly believed she’d do well but did not want her to move away to college in the fall.

The conversation shifted to D&D and music before they walked into school and went their separate ways. Eddie’s mind drifted to his princess, and he had to consciously fight to pay attention in class; he wanted – needed - to graduate with her this year. When lunch finally rolled around, he collapsed at the Hellfire lunch table with a sigh, drawing the attention of everyone present.

“What’s up, Eddie?” Dustin asked.

“Nothing,” Eddie lied.

“Is it your princess? I saw her going into the headmaster’s office earlier,” Lucas asked, shoving a piece of candy in his mouth.

“What? When?” Eddie lifted his head, suddenly concerned.

“Before last period.”

Eddie went to his locker after lunch, opened it, and found a note:

‘I left early, but I’ll be back for Hellfire. -Princess’

His mind started racing, and questions ran through his mind. Did something happen? Why did she leave, and where did she go? He pushed the thoughts back and went to his least favorite class, Mrs. O’Donnell’s English. After his last class, he went straight to the club meeting room but couldn't focus on the game. The boys started filing inside a few minutes early, talking about their characters and what they were doing over the weekend.

“Eds?” Eddie heard a quiet voice say from the doorway. 

He looked up and saw his princess point over her shoulder, asking him to come with her. He stood up and followed her into the hallway, trying to ignore the fluttering in his heart at the new nickname.

“Is everything ok? I’ve been worried about you all afternoon,” he explained, a hand landing on her bicep.

“Yeah. The headmaster had some stuff to talk to me about. We went over some of my college applications and I left to go to the library for essay research,” she answered.

“Oh. Well, I have no doubt the schools will be fighting over you.”

“I don’t know, Eddie. I’ve been so stressed about finals and college, but I don’t even know what I’d be good at or if I can get into any schools,” his princess countered quickly, her shyness present in her insecurities. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go to college, because I don’t want to leave you.”

“Hey,” Eddie interrupted, pulling her closer. “You will get in, trust me. And if you decide to leave Hawkins, I’m right beside you. If it comes down to me or your dreams, choose your dreams.”

“I’m not going-“ his princess began.

“Eddie! It’s time to start!” Dustin yelled from inside.

Eddie and his princess returned, sitting in their usual seats and playing as if they hadn’t just been discussing a future with one another. When the game ended and the boys left, Eddie hugged his princess, holding her as closely as possible and burying his face in her neck.

“Eddie, are you alright?” She returned the hug as she spoke.

“I…” Eddie cleared the tightness from his throat before continuing, “dreamed you died in my arms. And then you disappeared today and it just- it scared me.”

“I am so sorry,” she said, squeezing him tighter.

“It’s not your fault; I’ll be ok. Wanna go to Family Video and get a movie? I don’t think either of us should be alone tonight.”

She nodded against his chest, not wanting to let go yet. He squeezed again, head on her shoulder. His hand found hers as they exited the school and headed to Family Video. As soon as they walked in, Steve and Robin looked up at them as if they knew something no one else did.

“Munson, a word?” Steve asked.

“You’re with me,” Robin added, pointing to Eddie’s princess.

They reluctantly separated, Eddie and Steve moving toward the front window as Robin and the princess went to the back room.

“Munson, you have to tell her. You’re not helping anything by keeping it bottled up,” Steve started.

“What are you getting at here, Harrington?”

“You’re in love with her. Tell her before you lose your chance.”

“She’s going to college; she’s leaving soon, and I am holding her back.”

“What if not telling her is holding her back? What if she wants to know how you feel?”

“Why would she want to know that I’m in love with her?”

“Because she feels the same, idiot!”

“Whoa, easy with the names. Honestly, I want nothing more than to believe you, I want to be with her, but she can do amazing things and I just-“

“Eddie,” Steve interrupted, “telling her isn’t going to stop her from doing great things. I’m willing to bet she already told you she doesn’t want to leave.”

“She did.”

“Everyone she loves is here, she doesn’t have anyone else. She deserves to know. Don’t you think?”

Eddie groaned. “I hate that you’re right.”

“So, you will tell her?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“I’ll wait ‘til she isn’t so stressed.”

Steve heard the phone ring once, silencing as he watched Robin answer it. She handed the receiver to Eddie’s princess, who faced the wall as she listened with tense shoulders. After a few moments of silence, she hung up the phone and took a shaky breath, tears building as she looked at Eddie.

“That was Jason Carver.”

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